#its that the voice acting just throws me right out of it

[sserpente]

S T R A Y

Synopsis: The streets are not safe at night, not in the N109 zone, and even less so for a woman. When you realise you are being followed one night, panic surges through you, your heart pounding in your chest. You have to come up with a plan, fast. Hardly anyone still mingles at this time of day, yet there is a club nearby whose lights are still lit. A group of men are chattering just outside. One of them, you recognise. It is Sylus, the leader of Onychinus himself. Discarding all rational thinking, you throw yourself into his arms, hoping that he will play along and help you. It’s an encounter you’re certain you will never forget. So when you meet again a few weeks later during a fateful business meeting and your own father offers you up to him as payment to settle a dispute, only one question remains—did you get unlucky…or lucky?

Words: 5434 Warnings: bad parenting, being followed

Life in the N109 zone was…different. More than the booming trade of vitamin D pills and weaponry, there was a certain beauty to it. One that I had come to appreciate. The glooming lights, the abrasive darkness, and that mysterious aura were a balm to the soul that most people failed to appreciate.

It was life. Life was rough. This dream of Linkon City, an escape most people here longed for, was as unreachable as the sunlight.

As for me, my father made sure of that. I was all he had—and he wouldn’t let me leave to find joy elsewhere. Not unless he could draw an advantage from it himself.

I sighed, clutching the pile of neatly stacked documents tighter to my body. Confidential documents, retrieved illegally, of course, that were too precious to entrust anyone else with. It was already past midnight and the cold had crept in without mercy, crawling further and further into the heart of the N109 zone and freezing up its streets and alleys.

I breathed out through my mouth only to watch it mix with the crisp winter air. I wasn’t dressed warmly enough but there had been no time to put on several layers of clothing before my father sent me out with urgency in his voice.

He was mad. I could consider myself lucky if I made it home safely—without any vicious Wanderer attacks or thugs who wanted my father’s head as much as they wanted the pile of documents I realised now would be better off in my bag.

Perhaps it was a coincidence that I did. Or perhaps it was some sort of divine intervention because the very moment I closed the zip, I spotted a man wearing a black beanie from the corner of my eye. It was too dark to make out his face, only that he had stopped walking…and stepped forward again as soon as I did.

Shit. Don’t panic. It could just be a coincidence. Just change the side of the road and it’ll be fine. I drew in another deep breath, bracing myself. I took a sharp turn right, crossing the street over cracked asphalt and a discarded car tire only to watch the stranger do the same.

Perhaps now it was time to panic. There was no doubt about it. My gun was in my bag. Would I be fast enough to pull it out, cock it and aim before he realised what I was doing? Possibly not. He was getting closer already. I had to act fast.

The main road was the only one fairly lit in the N109 zone. I had to disappear out of sight if I wanted to gain an advantage and in order to do that, I had to merge with the shadows. I took another sharp turn, slipping into a side alley.

Old cardboard boxes and bins lined the narrow pathway, and the pavement was still glistening with the tears the sky had cried throughout the day in the artificial light of a shady poker club that was still open.

An opportunity, perhaps? I quickened my steps, heading straight towards it. Voices accompanied the weak source of light—cheerful chatter by men and women alike. Normally, I’d stay miles away from these places. But right now, it may be my only lifeline.

Another inconspicuous glance back proved the stranger was indeed still following me.

Ten more steps. Ten more steps and I could…could do what? I bit my lower lip. I hadn’t thought this through at all. People who visited these clubs were hardly of the trustworthy sort. If anything, there was a chance they were even deadlier than the man behind me.

Still, I had no choice, perhaps I would…

My heart skipped a beat when my eyes fell on one of the men facing the open door of the building. His hands were buried in his pockets as if he didn’t have a care in the world, a nonchalance unusual to the N109 zone. But it was his appearance that made my breath hitch.

White hair, red eyes…this…this was Sylus. I’d only seen him once before. As a real estate agent on the dodgier and more exploiting side, my father liked picking fights over property he believed he was entitled to—it got him on Onychinus’s bad side quickly, and onto their long list of enemies they were happy to strangle on sight.

My instincts should be telling me to run. I could only imagine the pure horrors they’d inflict on me if they knew I was his daughter. But I was also running short on options. Sylus was the most powerful man in the N109 zone. And as of right now, he was the only one I would trust to be capable of helping me out of my predicament.

He heard me approach before he turned his head to face me. One of his perfectly shaped eyebrows rose slightly when my eyes locked with his, yet before he could utter even a single word, I threw myself into his arms as if he was my boyfriend and I hadn’t seen him all week. He placed his hands on my waist presumably by reflex, a barely audible gasp escaping his lips in the process.

“A little stray kitten is seeking the protection of a lion. How…adorable,” he purred. Mockery swung in his dark voice. It sent pleasant shivers up and down my spine, reminding me of how dangerous this man was, and yet…I felt safe in his arms. Protected. With a shaky breath, I nuzzled up to his neck even closer.

“Please…I’m being followed. Help me. C-can you pretend we know each other?”

Sylus stiffened in my arms. For a brief moment, I worried he’d push me away and tell me to deal with this myself but instead…instead he tightened his grip around me with a start. I let out a sigh of relief before I could stop myself.

“Who? The guy right behind you?” he asked, his tone low and stern.

“Yes,” I whispered into his ear. “He’s wearing a black beanie.”

Sylus hummed, looking up when the strange man reached us at last. “Can I help you?” he growled.

I swallowed thickly, pressing my face against Sylus’s chest. Heavens, he smelled…good. His masculine scent calmed my nerves in an instant, my trembling ceasing a little.

“N-no…” I heard the man stutter behind me.

“Then what do you want from my girlfriend? You don’t strike me as the poker type,” Sylus continued, his voice carrying just a hint of a threat. My girlfriend… Why did I like the sound of that so much? I suppressed a scoff. I’d been reading too many mafia romance novels, that was for sure.

“Your girlfriend, huh? I’m just taking a walk. Enjoying the fresh air, taking in the night breeze.”

Clearly, he was not convinced. Yet it appeared he did not realise who Sylus was either—and that as of right now, he was playing not only with fire but death itself.

“Then keep on walking and don’t look back,” Sylus said. He leaned back a little, hooking his index finger under my chin to force me to look at him. His crimson gaze went soft, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Did you have a good day at work, kitten?”

I nodded, too stunned to speak. Studying him up close, he…he was attractive. Very attractive. Shit, what was wrong with me? This wasn’t just anyone, this was…this was the leader of Onychinus himself! Sylus is dangerous, I scolded myself. Your father’s arch enemy, your...oh please, don’t develop a crush on him!

“How can I be sure you really know the lady, huh? You could be blackmailing her, making her work for you, or some shit like that. She might need my help.”

Sylus growled. I was unprepared for the jolt of electricity rippling through me when he did. But what had me at his mercy was his following action. Without showing any signs of hesitation, Sylus leaned down and pressed his lips against mine, claiming my mouth in a kiss full of longing and the promise of more.

I froze. Panicked and melting into him both at the same time. By the time he released me, his hot breath ghosting over my face, the stranger scoffed and then, finally, took off.

Butterflies exploded in my belly, my heart fluttering in my chest to the point I was worried he could hear it.

I should thank Sylus. Show him my appreciation, shower him with grateful words, and yet…my throat remained paralysed as if his kiss had awakened something in me my body was yet to come to terms with.

“You are reckless wandering around the N109 zone unarmed at this time of night, kitten,” he said once the man was out of sight.

Damn it. I shook myself. Pull yourself together!

“I’m not unarmed. I have a gun in my bag, I just…I panicked. He would have reached me by the time I got my weapon out.”

“Then carry it on your hip next time. How far are you from home?”

“About a mile. That way.” I pointed down the alley—the exact same direction the stranger had disappeared into.

I only realised now that Sylus was still holding me. I cleared my throat, peeling myself out of his embrace.

And whoever he had been conversing with, they were all gawking and had been following the spectacle as if I was the main character of a reality TV show. Oh, how lovely.

“Luke, Kieran!”

“Yes, boss?” Two young men dressed entirely in black, their faces hidden by eerie masks stepped into view, answering Sylus in unison. I blinked. Where had they come from?

“Take my car and bring this lady home safe.” His tone allowed no contradiction—not from me and certainly not from the twins. Not that they were not inclined to read every wish from his lips anyway.

“Sure thing, boss,” one of them said.

“Follow us!” the other one added.

Expecting me to do as I was told, they disappeared around the corner, the way I came from, before I could protest.

I took a step back. “Uh… Sylus?”

His crimson eyes locked with mine. A mute invitation to continue speaking.

“Thank you.”

He nodded. “Good night, kitten.”

I did not look back when I took off. I couldn’t. I could still taste him on my lips along with the lingering aroma of expensive whiskey…

“In you go, miss!”

“Yeah, just tell us where you live and we’ll get you home in no time!”

Unable to tell who was who, I merely recited my address to them before I climbed into the back of the car hoping that this wasn’t a trick and they would indeed take me home.

Studying the interior as well as the exterior and taking into consideration that I didn’t know a lot about cars; even I knew that this one was expensive. Very expensive, surpassing the wealth of my father by far.

As soon as the engine was started and the twins stirred the vehicle further and further away from the poker club, my mind drifted off to Sylus and the way those stunning red eyes had softened with compassion upon learning of my precarious situation. A man with such a look in his gaze couldn’t possibly be a villain…right?

“Wait…this is where you live? This is the real estate agent’s mansion.”

“Are you his daughter?”

They both leaned back, staring at me through their expressionless masks. I swallowed thickly. Shit. I should have given them a different address. One that was right around the corner or something. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“I…I…”

“Explains why you’re sneaking around at night. That real estate agent is shady.”

“I was just trying to get home. I’m not up to anything. And I certainly don’t want any trouble.” Plus, I wouldn’t have thrown myself into the arms of my father’s greatest enemy, your boss, if I did.

“Ah, don’t worry, we won’t tell Boss about your dad.”

“Yet.”

The car doors unlocked, prompting me to breathe out audibly. “T-Thank you.”

“Good night!” they called out in unison when I got out of the car as quickly as I could muster. I’d barely closed the door again before they drove off already, leaving me behind confused and speechless. Yet? What was that supposed to mean?

It was a few weeks after this incident that my father announced I was to attend a highly important business meeting with him. So far, Onychinus had been silent. No surprise attacks, no kidnappings. I should have felt at ease that Sylus had acted like a true gentleman that night, ensuring I got home safe without expecting anything in return.

Luke and Kieran must have kept their mouth shut about my identity. And if they hadn’t, and Sylus already knew who I was and where I lived…

It should have been concern or even fear pumping through my veins. Instead, my thoughts kept circling back to the very moment the infamous leader of Onychinus had kissed me as if we were in love.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” My father stepped behind me, meeting my gaze in the mirror.

I took a deep breath and straightened my suit. “Ready, Dad. So…who are we meeting tonight? And where?”

“Place is a shady poker club about a mile from here. We won’t stay there any longer than necessary.”

Shady poker club? I swallowed thickly. He couldn’t possibly mean…

“Dad, who are we meeting up with?”

“The less you know, the better, sweetheart. Now let’s go. We’re gonna be late. He doesn’t like it when you’re late.”

He. Who was he?

My father ushered me outside and into his car before I could pry any further. We soared through the streets ignoring speed limits and the occasional obstacle. He was nervous. The way his fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white had me shift back and forth on the passenger seat all restless and uneasy myself.

He hadn’t even told me why he wanted me there in the first place. Not knowing what to expect at all threatened to have me decorate the dashboard with my dinner.

But perhaps that was a lie. Part of me did know, precisely, what to expect. I realised that the very moment the car came to a stop.

Sylus’s crimson eyes locked with mine when I entered the poker club a few steps behind my father and his men, his brows furrowed ever so slightly. If Luke and Kieran had indeed revealed my identity to him, he did not show it. His demeanour was calm. Collected.

“Mr. Sylus… Thank you for your time,” my father said.

“Don’t thank me before you have made it worth my while.” He paused and my heart skipped a beat when he stepped towards me and raised my hand to his face, pressing a tender kiss to my knuckles. “We meet again, kitten.”

It lingered on my skin even after he let go, like the gentle wings of a butterfly caressing the back of my hand. I was on fire, my face and ears so warm I could practically feel the blood pumping through them. Airplanes took off in my body, making me nauseous for different reasons entirely now. Damn it.

“Good evening, Sylus,” I pressed out at last.

My father’s eyes widened. “You know each other?”

Sylus looked at me expectantly.

“Uh… Sylus helped me out of an iffy situation the night you sent me to retrieve those documents for you. He ensured I returned home safely,” I said.

It was a challenge to hide the trembling in my voice. I’d had good reason not to tell my father about my encounter with Sylus. I suppressed a gasp when he grabbed my upper arm.

“Are you kidding me, child? You’re telling me you put yourself in the leader of Onychinus’s debt?” he hissed.

And this was exactly why.

I spotted the twins, standing guard on either side of Sylus’s chair, their masks void of any emotion as usual. Sylus himself had sat down already in the meantime, an untouched glass of whiskey on the stained poker table in front of him. The place was deserted. Neither customers nor staff filled the place with life, leading me to believe that Sylus had made sure there wouldn’t be any unwanted eyes and ears present.

“I don’t have all day,” he called over. He almost sounded…bored.

“Mr. Sylus… Of course. Excuse me. Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

My father’s men scattered across the room, taking position in every corner with one hand on the handle of their guns. I swallowed, relieved when my father finally let go of me and sat down opposite Sylus. I took a seat next to him, unsure of what he expected me to do next.

Already I was hardly looking forward to the ride back home. My father would give me hell for getting involved with Onychinus on my own terms. Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

“So…Mr. Sylus. I heard you are currently investigating Mr. Edward Geoffrey’s efforts to create Evol serums?”

I frowned. Of course, Onychinus would be interested in Geoffrey’s Evol serums too. My father had always had an eye for opportunity. He surpassed himself, however, with this. Willingly setting up a meeting with the enemy was not only reckless, it was suicide.

“You heard correctly.” Sylus took out a coin from his pocket and began flicking it between his fingers.

I bit my lower lip, fighting for composure. The tension in the room was palpable. One wrong word and it would blow, causing a deadly explosion.

“I may be able to help.”

Sylus huffed a laugh. “Is that so?”

“Mr. Geoffrey is an old acquaintance of mine, you see.”

“And why would that information be relevant to me?” he replied, clearly unimpressed.

Hypnotised, I watched him play with the coin.

“Because I sold a property to him. I have access to the floor plans…and skilled men who know how to bypass the security system I set up for him.”

My father pulled out a small package and slid it across the table. Sylus looked up. Now he was interested.

“You stole a sample of one of his serums? Why?”

“Consider it a peace offering.”

“You are a fool if you think all will be forgiven because of this.” Sylus nodded at the package with his chin, then gestured for Luke and Kieran to take it. One of them snatched it off the table before my father could change his mind.

“Mr. Sylus… Let me be frank with you. I made myself very vulnerable by meeting up with you and I have no ill intentions, not tonight. I did this in good faith. My investors are not happy with me. My involvement with Onychinus has made them…wary of future collaborations.”

Sylus huffed another laugh. “That merely sounds like you are facing the consequences of your own actions. Were you expecting pity? Compassion?”

Compassion. He’d shown me compassion that night. But I was not my father. I was not here to strike a business deal. I was, apparently, here to look pretty and keep my mouth shut. It was in moments like this I resented the crudeness of my own flesh and blood.

My father shot me a brief look. He was desperate, I could see it glistening in his eyes. “Alright. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this but…how about we raise the stakes then?”

The stakes?

“An addition to your workforce, perhaps?” he went on. “My daughter is an excellent assistant to me. I’ve tasked her with many important missions in the past. She is reliable, resilient, and obedient.”

My heart skipped a beat, my stomach churning. Nausea crept its way up my throat, my limbs tensing. My own father…meant to sell me to Sylus? To Onychinus?

The shock and hurt must have been visible on my face. It was ironic, really, that my ability to keep a poker face was remarkably pathetic given the very place of this meeting.

Sylus’s crimson eyes flickered over to me before they focused on my father again. My own gaze followed him. There was no way he would agree to this. Sylus had shown himself to be nothing but a gentleman the last time we met. He’d respect my autonomy, he’d—

“Hmm. That does sound like a fair enough deal. I accept.”

What? My head whipped back in his direction, my eyes widening in pure horror. He…he couldn’t be serious now, could he? He wouldn’t let my father sell me to him like cattle…right? Right?

The man who was supposed to love and protect me turned to me. His hand felt heavy and sweaty when he put it on mine. “Go with him, sweetheart. Make me proud.”

“You’ve planned this all along.”

He nodded.

“How could you?” I choked out.

“Sweetheart…this is the N109 zone. It’s to kill or be killed. And you working for Onychinus? It will lift my reputation and respect tenfold. It won’t be too different from working for me, hmm?”

I should be surprised. Hurt. Heartbroken. And perhaps I was all of these things but instead, all I was able to feel was an uncomfortable numbness revealing to me what I had known for years without wanting to realise. My father had never truly loved me. I was a tool. A means to an end. Another mouth to feed that he was now finally rid of.

Sylus rose from his chair, flinging the coin in the air before catching it and letting it disappear in his pocket again.

“Come on, kitten. It’s getting late. Consider your name off my list. For now,” he added, addressing my father.

The twins approached me when I made no move to follow Sylus back outside and to his car. Their touch on my shoulders was surprisingly gentle. I wanted to cry. Wanted to ruin the makeup I had applied so meticulously only an hour before in order to please my father. Not a single tear was willing to escape my eyes though, not even when Sylus opened the door to the passenger seat for me and the all too familiar scent of his expensive car filled my nostrils. Moments later, we rushed through the streets as if we owned the place. In a way we did. Well, Sylus did.

I refused to take in the beauty and vastness of his home when we arrived. It reminded me of a gothic novel, one with mysterious counts and vampires luring in young women to keep them as playthings and living blood bags. Expensive art and antique furniture filled the place, our steps echoing all the way up to the high ceiling. I followed Sylus and the twins into what I assumed was both a lounge and a dining room.

Luke and Kieran placed the mysterious serum my father had retrieved on the table, removed the stopper, and gave it a little sniff before popping it back on.

“Now what?” I spat.

“Is it a fake, what do you think?” Sylus asked nonchalantly, ignoring my question entirely.

He… I gnashed my teeth. Why was he acting like I wasn’t even in the room?

“Looks genuine, Boss. We should have it checked though, just to be sure.”

Sylus nodded. “Leave it here for now. I’ll deal with it later.”

Three…two…one. I waited until Luke and Kieran had left the room before I all but threw myself at Sylus. This time, however, it was not to seek comfort and aid. This time, I was out for blood.

“You bastard!” I lashed out at him. “Why did you agree to this? Accepting me as a prize like I’m some sort of slave! I thought…I thought you were…”

Sylus’s reflexes were downright terrifying. He snatched my wrist before my palm got even close to his cheek, his red eyes darkening.

I gasped for air when he pushed me against the nearest wall and my back hit the golden frame of a painting, his large body pressed up against me and nullifying any chance at escape. Heavens, he was strong. I was well trained in martial arts, my father had insisted I learned to defend myself since my early childhood, but Sylus? Sylus could crush me. He wouldn’t even need to use his Evol for it.

“I agreed to your father’s proposal for your sake, kitten,” he growled. “Not for mine.”

“My sake? My sake? Am I supposed to believe that?”

“What kind of father bargains his own daughter away, kitten? You’re better off without him.” He paused, closing his eyes for a moment as if my behaviour was sawing on his nerves. “I have half a mind to send you back. You are acting obnoxiously ungrateful.” I…I couldn’t even tell if he was joking or not.

“How dare you?” I spat.

“Am I wrong? Your father doesn’t strike me as the type you say no to. What was your life like, I wonder? Running errands for him? Constantly putting yourself in danger like that first night we met, disregarding your own dreams, your own needs, all in order to earn the love of a man who was never willing to grant it to you in the first place?”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” I struggled against his steel grip, hot and salty tears now finally threatening to spill and stain my flushed cheeks. Sylus was right. He was right about everything and hearing him speak it all out loud was so painful my knees gave up on me. It all came crashing down on me like a landmine. My father’s betrayal, my services being sold like a pint of milk in the supermarket, Sylus…Sylus.

My attempt to shove him away caught him off guard long enough for me to slide to the floor the very moment he reached for the next best thing to steady himself—it was the dining table, the small bottle containing the mysterious Evol serum an inch too close to the edge.

Sylus cursed when it tipped over. The twins must not have stuffed the stopper back in properly, for when it did, its liquid contents spilled all over the smooth surface of his mahogany table and his long fingers. It sizzled when it made contact with his skin, throwing bubbles and emitting smoke before eventually drying into his pores in the blinking of an eye.

“What happened? What did it do? Are you hurt?” I didn’t want to show concern for this man. I ought to hate him, despise him, loathe him… I blinked my tears away. I just…I couldn’t. There was anger, yes. But…there was something else too. It was that feeling again. That very same feeling that had already filled me from head to toe the very night I had wrapped my arms around him begging for his help. It was security. Security and…protection. Like I could put my life in his hands and he would cherish it.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled. Sylus shook his hand out as if that would help remove whatever substance had crawled under his skin, salvaged what was left of the serum, and then, finally, sank to the floor so we were eye to eye again, propping one knee up and resting his underarm on it. His dark red gaze met mine. He appeared to be…fine. Perhaps my father had lied and the serum was a fake after all.

“I suggest…a ceasefire for now.”

I sucked my lower lip between my teeth, wiping my eyes. My palms came back bearing black streaks from my makeup but I couldn’t care less. Nevertheless…I nodded.

“If you don’t want me as your assistant…does that mean…I’m free to go?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“You are not a prisoner here. Although, I would prefer to keep you around for a while longer. Your father will notice if you go straying again too soon, kitten.”

It took me a sharp inhale to process his words. Safe, a treacherous voice in my head whispered. You are safe with him.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that.” I wish you’d never stop calling me that. My heart skipped a beat whenever he did.

Sylus chuckled. “Don’t act like you hate it. You are…” He did not finish his sentence. My jaw dropped to the floor when he was suddenly stopped by a pair of fluffy brown cat ears springing from his white hair. They were quickly followed by a long tail of the same fur colour. Sylus tensed and gasped audibly.

“W-what is happening?” I choked out.

With one hand, he reached up to feel his ears, flinching when he realised that they were part of his body and…assumingly sensitive.

“So that’s what the serum does…” Sylus mumbled.

I gasped, covering my mouth with my palm to stifle a hysteric laugh.

“Who’s the kitten now, Sylus?”

Shit, this… This was all so…so absurd! All of it! This whole evening, me being here, Sylus turning into an Evol cat…could anything else go horribly wrong at this point?

My emotions turned into a bubbling cauldron full of uncertainty. It was overwhelming, to say the least. And I was getting tired of trying to figure out which feeling I wanted to give in to. Wiping the wet tears from my cheeks one last time, I sniffled and sat up, determined to not let fate get the better of me. I’d get through this. Somehow.

“I’m glad you’re amused.”

“You…you have no idea how much I needed this. You…you’re going to be okay though, right?”

“Of course I will. I just need to find out how to reverse the effects.”

“Why were you interested in this serum anyway? My father’s motivations I can understand, he’s in it for the money but you are…you are filthy rich already.” And the more I’m speaking to you, the more I’m realising you’re not the brutal and cold criminal I thought you were.

“There may be links to the usage of an Aether Core. That is all you need to know, kitten.”

I raised an eyebrow, half a smirk battling the sternness on my face. Truly, I couldn’t care less about Protocores. “I think you lost the right to call me that when you grew a pair of cat ears and a wagging tail, Sylus,” I said instead.

I paused, biting my lower lip. I made my decision there and then. I was safe. For now. And…I trusted him. I trusted Sylus enough to keep me alive and well and that had to suffice for now. I could deal with those strange butterflies awakening in my belly whenever he was near me tomorrow.

“I…I want to stay. And help you fix…whatever this is.” I reached up, scratching his left ear. My eyes widened when a little moan escaped his lips.

“That…is sensitive.”

Oh. Did…did he just growl?!

“You are welcome to stay, kitten. Nothing will happen to you here. Besides…I could use another assistant once I’ve sent Luke and Kieran off to find an antidote for…this.”

He whipped his tail in my direction where it wrapped around my waist. I cleared my throat. I was starting to feel a little cheeky now that I was certain that Sylus would keep his promise. Banter helped. Banter kept me distracted.

“I could be of great assistance indeed. I’ll clean your litter box every day, buy you fresh milk, brush your tail…and I’m more than happy to take you to the vet to get you checked for fleas.”

His gaze darkened. Evidently, my joke was not lost on him. Nor was the playfulness.

“You’re dancing on very thin ice, sweetie.” Sweetie? Now that was a new nickname. I decided I liked it just as much.

“I like to live on the edge. I… I hope you’ll compensate me adequately for my services though.”

Sylus crawled forward and pressed me closer against the wall with a start, almost as if his newly won feral instincts had taken over, ushering him into showing his affection by rubbing against me. I suppressed a moan. Being so close to him had my mind wander off into dangerous territory I was certain there was no coming back from. And to make matters even worse… Sylus’s crimson gaze now dropped to my slightly parted lips.

“Generously…” he whispered.

I’d gotten unlucky before. All my life, to be precise. Maybe today, the tables had finally turned.

[dreamscapeee222]

Jinx Headcannons

Jinx x reader

Masterlist

A/n: This doesn't spoil season 2 of Arcane but I could write something that will involve its act ^^

Jinx keeps you on your toes, never quite knowing what to expect, but always in the best way. One second, you’re caught up in her chaos, and the next, she’s throwing you a surprise adventure. She’ll grin, grab your hand, and tug you along, brushing her lips against your cheek as she says, “Let’s go cause some trouble.”

She’s the type to wrap you in a hug while she’s mid-explosion, laughing manically and pulling you closer, even if she’s covered in dirt or sparks. Her way of showing affection is loud, messy, and completely full of life, always with that “I’m so glad you’re mine” vibe underneath it all. Sometimes, she’ll press a quick, playful kiss on your forehead, leaving you laughing and breathless.

Beneath all the madness, Jinx is always there to make sure you’re okay, even if she doesn’t show it in the most conventional way. When you’re having a rough day, she’ll sneak up behind you, wrap her arms around your waist, and rest her chin on your shoulder, mumbling softly, “Stop worrying. I’ve got you.”

Jinx loves to tease you—playfully getting under your skin in the sweetest ways. She’ll smirk and tease, “What’s wrong, shy? Did I steal your heart or just make you blush?” before pulling you into a quick kiss that lingers for a moment longer than you'd expect, her fingers grazing your cheek as she pulls away.

Jinx is never one to sit still, and when it’s just the two of you, expect random, chaotic adventures—like late-night escapades or explosions just for fun. You can’t help but laugh as she pulls you into it, her arms circling your waist to keep you close, whispering, “You’re in this mess with me now.”

After a day of causing mayhem, Jinx will crawl up beside you, resting her head on your lap, her hair a bit wild but her eyes soft and tired. She’ll take your hand, bringing it to her cheek as she looks up at you, saying quietly, “You’re the only thing that keeps me from blowing everything up. Thanks for sticking around,” her voice tender in a way that makes your heart flutter.

Every once in a while, Jinx surprises you with the most random little things—a handmade necklace, a goofy drawing of the two of you, or even just a sudden kiss and an “I love you.” She’ll hand it over with a grin and, before you can react, pull you into a quick, warm hug, her arms lingering just a little longer than you expect.

Jinx doesn’t show her concern in the usual way. When you’re hurt or feeling low, she’ll be right there, pulling you close, her hands a little shakier than usual, trying to hold it together for you. If you’re feeling down, she might cup your face gently in her hands, her eyes serious as she says, “You mean everything to me.”

The way Jinx loves you isn’t always conventional. One minute, she’s blowing things up and laughing, and the next, she’s holding your hand, staring at you with a soft, rare smile. “Wouldn’t want anyone else to put up with my crazy,” she’ll say, pulling you close by the waist and giving you a quick, affectionate kiss on the lips.

Even after all the chaos, Jinx can’t help but flirt with you. She’ll walk up to you, throw her arms around your neck and whisper, “You know, you make chaos look way too cute,” before stealing a kiss, her hands lingering on the back of your neck as she pulls you even closer.

Jinx’s past is a heavy burden she often hides behind her chaos and manic energy, but she’s learned to lean on you for comfort. When the pain gets too overwhelming, she’ll find herself reaching out for you, desperate for the kind of stability you offer. She’ll bury her face in your chest, her voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t know how to do this without you. You’re the only one who makes me feel like... maybe I can be more than this.” You’re the one who listens when she talks about her fears, the one who helps her work through her anger, and the one she trusts with the broken pieces of her heart.

Requests may be sent. Only SFW.

[revelboo]

what is your worst "hear me out" for transformers? mine is tarantulas like a spider in irl hell no… but a big robot spider thats hot

Probably Tarantulas (I love his Earthspark design) or IDW Waspinator.

I read Windblade for Metroplex lore and it reminded me of this messed up, fatally gullible mech that is everyone’s punching bag and just knows it.

Worker Bee

IDW Waspinator x Reader

• Dragging his broken body, his alt mode scrabbles for purchase in the leaf litter. It’s hard to focus on much besides the pain and finding somewhere safe to hide and heal. He’s not even sure what he did, only that Skywarp had pointed at him right before Megatron went ballistic on him and the two other Decepticons that had been close by. Maybe he had done something wrong. He must have. “Waspinator’s fault,” he rasps, antenna flicking because there’s light up ahead, a building where he’ll be out of the snow just beginning to fall. Leaving the tree line, he drags himself inside, legs scrabbling and knocking over a metal can that clatters as it goes rolling and he collapses on the straw inside. So tired, burrowing in.

• Looking up from your book at the noise, you groan because the raccoons are back and they’ve tipped over the trash can. It’s late and you just want to ignore it and deal with it in the morning, but there might be garbage strewn across the yard by then. Standing, you tug on a coat, grab a flashlight, and a rifle just in case it’s a bear, not cute little trash pandas raiding your garbage. You’d left the barn door open apparently and you find the can turned over, but its contents not scattered everywhere. Maybe the sound scared them off? Setting the gun down, you right the can and turn as something shifts within the hay, rising slowly to tower over you.

• There’s a human with a weapon. Here to hurt him, because everyone does. They always do. It hurts to transform and reach for the human, but his injuries throw him off balance and he crashes down, knocking the little organic sprawling with him. And you’re screaming at him, your fear jangling through him making him curl forward, servos over his head. Waiting for a blow that doesn’t come. “Not hurt Waspinator?”

• Hyperventilating as the monster lifts its big head slightly, you can’t even scream. Voice overlayed with slow buzz, the thing had spoken. It’s gigantic, seizing your ankle when you try to crawl away and dragging you back, looming over you. All you can do is hold up your hands in supplication as those awful mandibles work and those glowing optics stare. “Don’t hurt me.”

• This is new. Someone afraid of him? It should make him feel powerful to be the one feared for once, but it just makes him oddly ill. Sitting up and gingerly touching the wound in his torso sluggishly bleeding energon, he makes a buzzing click of his mandibles. “No hurt,” he says as you scramble to your hands and knees to put some distance between you. “Already hurt,” he adds tiredly, and you hesitate in your retreat. Staring at the energon welling through his servos. You take a hand through your hair, expression twisting.

• All you have to do is run like hell. That thing, Waspinator it had called itself, is hurt too badly to chase you. But there’s something about its defeated tone that makes you feel guilty. This isn’t your problem. Big and scary was already hurt when he crashed in your barn. So why do you go over to the workbench and retrieve a roll of duct tape? He hisses at you, rearing back when you try to touch him and you freeze. “Cut that out,” you snap and his antenna flatten back. Not hurt Waspinator? You’d guessed with the way he’d worded that question that maybe he’s used to being hurt. That he’d fold if you acted aggressive and you were right. It’s unsettling to see a giant, metal death bug cringe like a puppy being scolded. But he doesn’t make a peep as you find the hole in his metal side and gingerly tape the leaking lines, trying to not think too closely on what you’re touching or that your hands are inside him rooting around. “Waspinator, right?” The way he’s just staring down at you with those wide glowing optics just cements in your head that he’s a big, really ugly puppy.

Next

[stop-the-play]

> [Take the blade]

The figure watches you in silence as you reach down to pick up your blade.

VOICE OF THE HERO: Moment of truth, I suppose.

> [Throw the blade into the darkness]

You reach your arm back and toss the blade as hard as you can into the darkness around you. For a minute, there is only silence, before you hear the faintest clatter somewhere very far away.

VOICE OF THE HERO: And it's gone. Have fun ending the world, you three.

VOICE OF THE MEEK: Oh, shut up.

"It's... nice to have that out of the way, I think. Should we go now?"

> "Yeah. Let's go." [Turn towards the stairs]

You turn towards the stairs and step onto the next stone, and the clink of chains sounds behind you as the other follows suit.

"Ah!"

[Look back] "What happened?"

The figure glances back at you.

"I-it's fine. The stones just... aren't very stable, I think. The last one fell away when I stepped off of it. I get the feeling we don't have much time left."

"But it's fine! If we keep going, we'll be fine. Just go. Please. Don't worry about me. I'll be right behind you."

"Just go, please."

VOICE OF THE HERO: Hm.

VOICE OF THE MEEK: What are you—you know what? Never mind. Let's just get out of here.

VOICE OF THE HERO: Sure. Let's.

> (Explore) You're acting weird about this and I don't like it. Spill.

VOICE OF THE HERO: Oh, nothing. It'd just be a shame if it happened to fall off the stairs while you were on your way to ending the world, and you didn't even notice it happening until you reached the top and looked back.

VOICE OF THE HERO: A real shame.

VOICE OF THE MEEK: Shut up, shut up, shut up, now that's all I can think about...

> Yeah, let's just go. [Begin climbing]

The stairs stretch endlessly up into the distance ahead of you.

As you begin your ascent, you notice you don't hear the other's footsteps behind you, nor the clinking of its chains.

VOICE OF THE MEEK: Don't think about it, don't think about it...

VOICE OF THE HERO: ...

> (Explore) "Hey, you're still there, right?"

"I am, I'm just... taking a moment to steel myself. I will begin climbing very shortly."

Choices:

[Keep climbing]

[Turn around]

[omniblades-and-stars]

Still mad that Bioware was too cowardly to let me romance Tali as FemShep.

[ableedingpromise]

God I'm so fucking annoyed how come she gets to treat me however she likes and then gets to say she didn't mean it?????

[sahkuna]

LET'S KEEP IT PROFESSIONAL — GOJO SATORU

synopsis: the end of your contract with GS Holding Corp. is coming to an end. well, your contract working for the company's founder and CEO, gojo satoru, as his personal assistant is ending since you no longer would work directly under him. but gojo will be damned if he lets that happen without trying to change your mind.

content warning(s): fem! + afab reader, plot-ish → eventual smut so 18+ mdni, office au, risky workplace relationship, oral (m→f), unprotected, semi-public sex??? (it's in an office), pining gojo satoru bc that's my fave to write

word count: 6.7K+ holay molay...

a/n: wanted to post this bc 1) its been a millineum since i last posted & a fulfilled req and 2) mentally rejecting that manga leak/ending -_-

“I’ll miss you.”

You stand in front of the photocopy machine unmoving. The soft buzz of ink etching itself onto paper is the only sound that floats through the air beside the voice of the persistent CEO you work under. 

Had you known that he would be following you around the building, bugging you as you tried to complete the tasks that he assigned you to finish on his behalf, you would’ve straight up told him to do it himself. 

You contribute much of your time and effort to this company, and you’re highly recognized for your work. …But you absolutely didn’t need the recognition to come in the form of being under constant surveillance from your boss.

Assuming you might’ve not heard him the first time when you don’t respond right away, he leans in closer and rests a comfortable arm on your tense shoulders. “I said, I’m gonna miss you—”

“I heard you the first time, Gojo.”

When the machine stops whirring indicating that it has finished the job, you don’t hesitate to snatch the sheets of paper from the printer and slap them onto Gojo Satoru’s chest, decked out in a baby blue button-up. All too soon, you’re sidestepping around him and heading out the door toward your office right down the hall.

“Hey!” he exclaims at your sudden early departure.

Hot on your tail, Gojo trails after you clutching the papers close to his chest. “Where are you going?” Gojo asks when you take an unexpected sharp left turn from the usual route to his secluded workroom. 

Despite your best efforts to leave him behind, his tall stature annoyingly reminds you that he can keep up with you just fine.

“Y’know,” your boss starts, catching your attention as you practically speed-stomp your way down the halls of his corporation, “Ijichi would never treat me like this!” 

You could practically hear the way he pouts from behind you. When you briefly glance back to confirm your suspicions about what expression he could be wearing, you’re not surprised to see he’s throwing a wistful gaze above your head. His soft, pink lips are downturned and tacked with his snow-white brows all bunched together, probably wishing you’d be more graceful with him.

Or take pity on him at the very least, you know?

You turn back around and continue your path toward your own office space. “Well, it’s a good thing he’s coming back next month then, huh?”

Pity denied.

Gojo swore he heard the wry smile in your voice as soon as you finished your sentence. You’re willfully teasing him and playing with his emotions. But that’s why he’ll miss you— none of his employees would dare talk to him or give him the same flack as you do.

When you step into your office, so does he. And Gojo, either painfully oblivious or simply choosing to ignore the blatant act of you purposefully and almost slamming the door shut in his face, swings it wide open and ambles toward your workstation, a smile creeping onto his lips.

“Extend your contract with me,” he starts, carelessly tossing the sheaf of paperwork onto your tidy desk once he’s within arms reach of it. He peeks at you over his shades and returns your unimpressed stare with an innocent smile. “I’ll raise your salary a reasonable amount once you do.”

While that did sound nice on paper, realistically speaking, dealing with Gojo’s antics for the foreseeable future was less than ideal for you. God forbid you start getting grey hairs at such an early age. Or a raised blood pressure. And besides…

“I still work under and for Utahime’s department though,” you say matter-of-factly, once you’ve crossed the space of your room to sit behind your desk. Your lips twist into a soft pout as you shuffle the scattered sheets together and place them into a neat pile.

Ah, right.

After Ijichi had filed for a paid sick leave after an unrelated work injury several months ago, you graciously covered your colleague’s position as the personal assistant to the founder and CEO of GS Holdings Corp., for the time being.

Pushing away the urge to roll his eyes into the back of his head at the namedrop of his top leading director, Gojo deflates onto your desk.

Utahime has been on his case for the past few weeks to hurry up and file the paperwork so that you’d be back in her good graces as soon as your term with him expires. He’s been procrastinating on filing out the paperwork, mostly because he hates doing tedious work, the other half of him flat-out does not want to see you go so soon.

To say Gojo has thoroughly enjoyed you operating as his aide would be a huge understatement. 

Wherever Gojo was in his grand office building, it wouldn’t be unusual for your co-workers to spot you too far off. Outside of work is the same story, especially considering you’d be the one driving him home from work since Ijichi acted as both his assistant and driver. 

“Just switch to mine!” Gojo whines. He joins you at your desk and sits his ass right on the documents you had printed and stretches his limbs against the surface, nearly eating up all the space on your desk. He ignores your strained quips at him to get the hell off. 

“Utahime’ll be fine, let her find someone else. The job market’s already bad as is, so let another person take it and come be with me.” 

There’s a double meaning if you dig deep, and Gojo prays and hopes you’d take the time to digest what he really means. 

However, it seems like you’re not in the mood to be an excavator today.

Pushing his antics and sweet-talking to the side, you arch a questioning brow at him and lean back into your chair. There was nothing explicitly charged behind that reaction of yours, but it shook Gojo to the core realization that his attraction to you was unnerving— though not unnerving enough to have him stay away from you.

“What about Ijichi? Where’s he gonna go if I stay?”

Gojo visibly perks up at your usage of the word ‘if’, because in his mind he’s already imagined the situation to be quite likely. You see the way he sits a little taller, a little higher on your desk at the proposed question.

But alas, you dash his hopes by adding, “Which I won’t. But if I did, what then?”

“Then you guys can make it a two-person job!” he proclaims as if it were the most easy and obvious answer in the world. Gojo rests his feet on either side of your hips and the heels of his dress shoes press into the leather material of your rolling chair, prompting you to squeeze your thighs together due to the lack of room. “You know I need all the help I can get around here.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “You’re being ridiculous, Gojo.”

With the wheels on your chair, your boss uses it as leverage to roll you impossibly closer to him than you already were, angling your face centimetres away from his lower torso. You will your eyes to not drift down his body and toward his lap.

Lord knows the field trip the man would have with that if he were to catch you blatantly checking him out right before him. 

“Why’s it so hard to convince you to stay, huh?” he asks, knocking a soft knuckle against that stubborn head of yours. “Why? You don’t like me or something?”

Your heart stutters in your chest at his question. 

Insufferable as he can be sometimes, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel some magnetic pull towards him. 

Losing control of the situation a bit, you grab the reins again. Clearing your throat you ask, “Do you talk to all your employees like that?”

He shakes his head. “Nah.” Gojo props an elbow onto his knee and presses his cheek into the palm of his hand. His smile grows warm and gooey when his blue eyes clash with yours from where you sit a few inches below him. “Just you.” 

You’ll die. You swear you can die right now from the way he’s looking at you— which is no way a boss would ever look at their employee. Let alone assistant. 

Keep it professional.

“Wow! I’m flattered,” you reply, your tone laced heavily with dry sarcasm. You brush his legs away, successfully bringing his feet to rest on the floor and scoot back from your desk. The heated tension that once lingered in the air clears out a bit as you rise to your feet.

Soft cerulean eyes watch as you stand before him, a bit more guarded as you cross your arms across your chest. Whatever you say next is completely lost on him because unlike you, as subtle as he may be, Gojo allows his eyes to wander.

He swallows thickly. You shouldn’t do that. His gaze inconspicuously slides down to the low neck of your blouse and zeroes in on how your arms press against your chest, deliciously squeezing your breasts together and—

“Satoru!” you hiss.

Shit.

Maybe he wasn’t as discreet as he thought.

Quickly flitting his attention back to your face, Satoru offers you a half-assed apology but it’s too late for that. Your face is screwed tight with abashment and bafflement after having caught him in the act. It’s an emotion he hasn’t seen you wear lately. He wants to see more of that. More of you.

Before you could get a word out, ready to rip him a new one about how your eyes weren’t ‘down there’, he hurriedly rushes out a proposition— changing the subject and bringing you both back to the original reason as to why he’d been following you around this past hour. “If I get you to like me, will you work past your term?”

You rest your arms at your sides, completely forfeiting your motion to scold him. Now that’s new. “I never said I don’t like you.”

Satisfaction settles in his chest, warm and heavy at your statement. Gojo liked the sound of that. 

“Then how about this,” the tall CEO moves from his seat on your desk toward you. With each step you take back, he matches you in stride until he’s got your back up against a wall. Quite literally. 

“If I get you to like me more than you do now, you stay. With me. Deal?”

The gentle scent of fabric softener and sandalwood cologne wafts around you. This proximity made you squirm with anticipation. “Do what you want,” you say, craning your neck up to stare at him resolutely. “It won’t change the fact that I’ll be in a whole new department next month.”

The smirk on Gojo’s lips stretches wide as he meets you stare for stare. His voice drips heavy with confidence and a brazen spirit as he asks, “Yeah?”

You only manage a stiff nod, not trusting yourself to speak lest it comes out as a fucking moan from the sexual tension alone.

Content with your compliant state, Gojo finally backs off from you and makes his way toward your door. “Don’t forget that meeting we have with the executives this Friday.”

“I know,” you tumble out, sinking back onto your office chair, miffed that he's got you in such a tizzy. It's a miracle that you don’t melt into it right away under his gaze.

You pick up a new batch of paperwork and begin filing them into their respective folders. When you finish with the first set, Gojo’s still lingering by the doorway, watching you.

“Yes?”

“Nice top, by the way.” His hand rests on the wooden frame, eyes half-lidded with intent. “It really does bring out your eyes.”

As expected, you did not forget about that special executive meeting on Friday. Nor did you forget about the many others you’d have to host and coordinate after that, too.

Essentially, you didn’t let what had transpired the week before deter you from your respective duties as Gojo’s personal assistant. As his right-hand… woman.

But you didn’t entirely forget about what went down either. 

Whether you adhered to his “deal” or not was completely up to you. However, after that day, every personal meeting or time alone together seemed to bristle with tension, heavy with a delicious sort of pressure of the unknown. 

When Gojo would catch your eye or you’d catch his during prolonged meetings that stretched over the initial run time with the higher-ups, there would be a brief moment of shared glances. One recent instance stuck with you to the last few weeks of your contract.

You remember how he would roll his eyes sarcastically as if he were being forced against his own will to attend these kinds of things— which technically he was, but that’s the reality of being a successful founder and CEO of your own company— and his actions would rouse a stifled giggle from you, which in turn prompted an easy smile of his own.

But it was through these shared glances, these brief moments of humour that it would slip into something a little slower, a little more sweet the more you two held eye contact like dripping honey until you broke it off, hurriedly directing your attention back toward the front of the room.

It’s only a matter of time until this bundled ball of emotions displayed through knowing glances and brief moments of heated exchanges finally snaps.

You both wonder when that’ll be.

“This is crazy.”

You slide your gaze away from swirling your cup of iced cappuccino to Shoko who sits beside you. She leans her head back against the cushions of your office sofa— a complimentary gift from Gojo two weeks ago(you suspect it was his last-ditch effort to get you to stay).

“What is?” you ask.

Sitting up, Shoko crosses her leg over the other and fixes you with an exhausted look. “This!” she exclaims, gesturing her hands around the vicinity of your room. There are moving boxes scattered everywhere, which is a bit absurd considering you’re only moving one level downstairs to your old space. 

“I can’t believe you’ve only got a week left until you switch departments,” she says. “Suguru’s gonna lose his head the moment you’re gone and Satoru’s already started with the theatrics.”

Trust and believe that you already know. It’s hard not to when you’ve got the Chief Operating Officer, Geto Suguru, knocking on your door for an offer you ‘don’t wanna turn down’. But once you’d told Geto that you were still going ahead with filling out the documents to head back to Utahime and her team, it led to a hefty chunk of your lunch being taken up by him asking (begging) you to reconsider when your contract end date drew closer. 

“I just worry for Ijichi is all,” you say, shrugging as if the situation were already out of your hands. “Gojo’s been very temperamental and… well, bratty these past few days.” 

Shoko’s brown and neatly trimmed brows shoot up with interest at the disclosure.

You think back to a few days ago when you told Satoru to take it easy on Ijichi. You told your white-haired superior that he’d have to patiently reintroduce him to the new tech and procedures that Ijichi would work with as it would be his first week back. You couldn’t believe your ears when he straight-up told you, “I don’t care about a man’s hardships. He can work them out by himself!”

“Satoru’s always tormented the poor guy,” Shoko says, shaking her head at her friend’s show of obnoxious behaviour, “but he does mean well. I think.”

And speak of the devil… 

Over the curve of Shoko’s shoulder through the open blinds of your clear, glass window you spot Gojo. Noticing that he’s caught your attention, he waves incessantly at you through the glass before you hear him twist the knob of your door open.

“Which reminds me,” your friend continues, drawing your sights back on her, “the rest of the team and I were thinking of heading out for drinks later to celebrate with you one last time. Wanna come?”

“Oooh,” Gojo drawls once he’s within earshot. 

He’s looking extraordinarily handsome today, wearing black slacks and a buttoned, linen navy blue top. He’s smiling boyishly from ear to ear when he catches you twisting your lips in a tight purse as if you were trying to stifle a smile of your own. “A celebration, hm? Can I come?”

Shoko scrunches her face at the sudden question and self-invitation. She throws a bewildered look in Gojo’s direction when he settles himself onto his signature spot in your office. Your desk. “Why?”

Huh?

What kind of question was that? Why else would he want to spend an evening out with everyone? With you especially.

White brows bunch together, tight with confusion. “To celebrate with you guys?” he responds as if Shoko had just asked a one-dimensional question. 

“You’ve been a moping mess this past month after you’ve learned that she—” Shoko points her finger into the flesh of your cheek, “—wasn’t going to extend her work contract with you. So, if anyone’s gonna be celebrating, it sure as hell isn’t you.”

Yeesh! Tell him what you really think.

Knowing Shoko didn’t mean any harm by her words, you still felt inclined to soften the blow of her statement just a tad. “Plus, you don’t drink alcohol, Gojo.”

“And you don’t drink,” Shoko adds, raising her arms in exclamation as if to thank you for bringing that point up.

“Well,” pushing himself off the edge of your mahogany desk, Gojo stops a bit before the sofa you and Shoko both occupied. “I don’t need to drink to have a good time with my team!” he defends, directing a pout-induced glower at his colleague.

You’d think he’s done, but with the touch of Gojo’s large hand grabbing your wrist and pulling you off the couch that you realize he’s far from over at stating his point. “And neither do you,” he says, he pulls you behind him, steering you both toward the door. “We’ve got plans.”

Puzzlement crosses over not only yours but Shoko’s features as well.

“We do?”

“Since when?”

Gojo nods at you and Shoko’s questions spoken in tandem. “Emergency meeting. She and I’ve got important matters to discuss.” You feel the faint brush of his hand find the small of your lower back and maneuver you out the door and away from Shoko’s view. “You wouldn’t get it.” Is the last thing he says before he pokes his tongue out at the woman and ducks out of sight.

“Oh, really?” She says, rising to her feet but making no moves to follow you both out the door.

“You don’t even put your own two cents during our regular team meetings! There’s literally nothing for you to discuss, Satoru.” You hear her call after him as he guides you down the hall, past the elevators and toward his big office.

If only she knew how true that statement would be.

Gojo hates meetings. They always happen at inconvenient moments and eat up way too much of his precious time. It’s time that he could be spending doing something else… or someone. 

Which is why this “emergency meeting” was different.

If someone had told Gojo Satoru several months ago that his favourite employee, his darling assistant would be seated pliant for him on his expensive Birch Lane executive desk he would have laughed in their face with a furious blossoming blush nipping at his neck.

But right now, there’s nothing to laugh about.

Gojo’s watching you closely in the shaded dark of his room, tracking every subtle shift in your body language for any indication that you may be uncomfortable and change your mind at the last minute. But when you wrap an arm around his neck, slotting him closer in between your legs, he realizes he couldn’t have been more wrong.

Something in the air felt different. It was thicker. Electric. 

Gojo knew in an instant he wouldn’t last when your lips ghost the words, “This doesn’t mean I’m changing my mind,” on his mouth, before tipping his head to the side, giving you the space to slot your lips with his.

Game fucking over.

Sure, maybe he wasn’t able to completely get you to change your mind about working with him and his department.

But this?

You whimper into his mouth when his hands skim down back and cheekily resting right above your ass. Your body warms underneath the palm of his hands with every touch and how he kneads your hips tucked away beneath your business casual attire.

Gojo Satoru had won in his own right.

Your breaths come quicker as he steals them from you, his left-hand squeezes your side while the other slides across your lower belly and traces the hem of your blouse.

“Take this off,” he commands, his voice wrecked with reckless abandon. His forefinger hooks on the band of your pants, in a pathetic attempt to pull them down despite not having undone your button and zipper. His air of frustration is not lost on you when you see the slight furrow in his brows, the more he pulls but to no avail of getting you in a state of undress.

Not wanting to lose the momentum you both have, you unhook your arm from his shoulders to give him a helping hand.

“Relax,” you say, softly nudging his hands away from your clothing. He hungrily eyes how you pop the button of your dress pants and shuck them onto the floor. 

Once that was off though, everything came into sharp focus, and Gojo’s breath caught in his throat. 

There’s almost a crazed look in his eye the more he stares at your clothed cunt unblinking, unmoving. His breathing’s gone a bit ragged, and every so often you feel the twitch of his fingers dig into the skin of your thigh.

It was a bad idea, considering how the sight of your panties alone had him this rigid, this excited. But he still grits out a rough, “Lemme see.”

Slowly, you pull your laced underwear to the side and Gojo's teeth dig into his inner cheek at the sight. His hands mark a slow path from your thighs down to your knees, pushing them wide apart so that he could see more of you. 

The delicate spread of your folds had your boss entranced. Gojo has seen and salivated over the various outfits you wore to the workplace, always wondering what was underneath before he deemed such thoughts as inappropriate and immediately started thinking about something else. But now that he sees it for himself, it was all too tantalizing. He wanted to see all of you, taste all of you.

The tuft of snow-white hair that once obscured your vision is now gone, sinking lower to your lap.

“Oh!” you exclaim loudly at his sudden movement. Shocked by how quickly he came down to eye level with your pussy.  “You don’t—” you stammer, swallowing hard as all the blood rushed to your head. Instinctively, you snap your legs shut in a weak attempt to shield yourself from his intense, unwavering gaze. “You don’t have to do that!” 

Having one of Japan’s richest, self-made men drop down to his knees staring fervently at your cunt through you in for a loop. You’re sure by now the expression face was no less than gobsmacked right now.

Gojo’s hand grasps one of your calves, his thumb rubbing smooth circles over your warm skin before he hooks it over his shoulder leaning closer to you. “What do you mean?” 

Pulling you closer to his face, you’re forced to plant your other foot onto the ground for stability. “This!” you hiss out, tone laced with embarrassment and arousal as your finger points between his face and your body. “It’s unbecoming, you don’t have to do that to get me off. Really!”

“Why not?”

You don’t have to say what you’re thinking out loud. You were his assistant for fuck’s sake! 

You’re sure what you two are doing would be an issue with some legal policy with the company. But then again… Gojo Satoru is the founder and CEO of said company so he can technically get away with one or two things. But—

Sensing your hesitancy, Gojo’s eyes soften when he looks up at you. “Just… forget the formalities for a sec, will you?” he implores, strong hands grazing up to your knees again hoping you wouldn’t be stubborn with him this one time. “Please? I want to do this for you.”

You look searchingly into his eyes before you finally mellow out. Feeling you relax in his hold and your thighs lose that tension, that was enough of a green light for Satoru before his mouth skims along the mound of pussy. Each kiss he pressed lovingly against your skin, left you shivering in their wake. 

It wasn’t long before his tongue, firm and slick, pokes out and licks a long, slow stripe up your slit which has you keening. You feel his lips twist into a smug smile when he hears the broken sound of his first name from above him.

“Hm?” he hums, still mouthing at your pussy which encourages another ragged moan from you. “Am I doing good so far?”

You don’t know why he even bothered asking, considering the sheen shine of your arousal coating his mouth and chin. Nonetheless, you give him the answer he patiently waits for.

“Yeah,” you breathe, moaning again when the tip of his tongue circles your sensitive clit. 

And it all becomes too much when his hand abandons supporting your leg on his shoulder, to skate its way up your thigh and toward your pussy. The combination of his forefinger rubbing tight, intricate shapes on your clit and his mouth working you open have you yelping from overstimulation. 

You press your palm against Gojo’s forehead when the heat in your lower belly runs hotter, successfully pushing his face away.

“Not like this,” you protested weakly, your hand smooths down from his face to grip his shoulders. There’s a light flush that peaks beneath the collar of his shirt. He looks absolutely debauched right now. “I want you.”

With the cuff of his sleeve, Gojo wipes your arousal off the bottom half of his face. Unhooking your legs from him, you're left to shakily stand on your own, with nothing but the support of his desk to keep you upright.

“Alright,” he breathes, smiling at how your eyes follow the way his hands undo the expensive black Ferragamo belt on his waist. “How do you want me then?” 

“Um…” You look around the place for feasible places for you to get fucked on. Crude, but true. 

Behind Gojo is his office chair rolled back, looking vacant and lonely. “We could do it on the chair?” you suggest, eyes twinkling at your proposal. “If you want?”

“You want to ride me?” he asks, a proud smirk twitching at the corner of his lips.

Your air of confidence softens into something more breathless and vulnerable which has his heart surging with reckless affection. “Don’t make it weird!” you yelp, giving his shoulder a light shove.

Dragging the chair closer, Gojo chuckles at how quick you are to change moods. “Come,” he says once he has sat down, patting his lap with one hand while the other pulls himself free from his boxers and slacks. “Ride me. Make yourself feel good.”

You don’t know what turns you on more: A) the way he’s speaking so dirty, so obscene with you right now or B) the sight of Satoru’s cock smacking against the pale, creamy space of his exposed lower abdomen. You stare at it for too long, the build-up of saliva gathering in your mouth the more you stare at his thick and hard shaft, occasionally bobbing on its own under your intense glare.

You could die and go to heaven right now.

Gojo’s hands grab your waist and pull you closer to him. Running your tongue along the inside of your cheek, you twist around so that you’re back is now facing him as you prepare to take him all in.

“No, no, no, no,” he rushes out when you’re about to sit down on his lap facing away from him. Within seconds, Gojo has you facing him. He grasps the back of your knee and tugs it to his side, pushing the armrest out of the way and does the same with the other. 

Oh! You didn’t know it could do that. 

“I wanna see you,” he murmurs, once you’re now straddling his lap and hovering mere inches away from his erection. His free hand moves between your bodies and grabs the base of his cock and angles it toward your slit.

“Oh.” You feel giddy. The noticeable brush of his tip stroking along your slick folds only adds to that dizzying sensation. “Yeah, I’m—”

When the head of Gojo’s cock slowly starts to push inside of you, your sentence is cut off by a broken moan emitted from the back of your throat.

With his eyes closed, there’s a lazy smile that spreads across Gojo’s mouth as he breathes out a heavy groan once he’s all the way inside you. “Yeeeah,” he whispers, the pads of his fingertips pushing tight against your bare skin.

You bite your lip and experiment with this position. Lifting your hips slightly before you sink back down, Gojo buries his face into your neck and breathes, ragged and heavy.

So much for wanting to see you.

“Shit,” you hear him hiss, as he blindly gropes at your ass, working your body to continue to slide up and down his hard cock. The heat of you had him seeing stars as searing pleasure tore through him.

Whimpering, you clench onto firm biceps, enjoying the shallow strokes he pushes into you.

It’s incoherent at first. However, when you tumble out a dazed huh? so that you could hear him repeat whatever he had said, Satoru's lips parted in ecstasy. “I forgot,” he choked out, voice raw and unhinged.

Gently tugging him away from your neck, your core tightened at the fucked out expression on his face. Curious eyes trail down to his stomach and how with each pump inside you, his muscles involuntarily spasm.

“The condom,” he states, slowing down his fevered pace. “I forgot…”

If it were anyone else, you would’ve hopped right the fuck off their lap with panic, body tense over the fact of how careless you were being.

But surprisingly there were no alarm bells and no flashing red lights in your mind. If anything your blood ran a little hotter, the need and tightness in your core taking over.

You don’t know you have it in you to completely stop everything in a search for a condom you don’t even know he might have.

“Pull out then,” is all you say before you begin to ride him again.

Gojo can definitely get behind that. He’s not complaining if it meant he got to have you completely raw.

Your pussy swallows his cock, and Satoru gathers up the bottom of his shirt— wrinkling it in the process— so that he could see the way he disappears inside you over and over.

When he shifts his gaze back up again so he can take in the expression you might be wearing, Gojo’s surprised to see you already looking at him.

There’s an adorable tinge to your lips that has Gojo flitting his gaze back to them every damn time he tries to make eye contact with you as he fucks himself sweetly into your pussy.

He’s overcome with the strong urge to kiss you. To cross the small width of space between your mouths.

So, he does.

His brow bumping yours, Gojo’s hands return to your ass and he stands up with you in his embrace. The cold press of his desk accosts you as he uses his weight to push you slowly onto your back. 

“Satoru,” you sigh your boss’s name blissfully once his lips leave yours to press them along the curve of your jaw before pulling away.

“I wanted this to be nicer,” he says, brilliant blue eyes glittering down at you through the sex-soaked shadows. His hips don’t stop pistoning in and out of you, and he exhales a particularly harsh hiss when he feels you squeeze around him. “Nicer than here.”

You drag in a breath at his sentence, its implications not lost on you. He’s thought about this before. “It's okay, there's always another time.” 

Satoru hums appreciatively, seemingly pleased with your answer. After leaning in for one last kiss, he brushed his mouth from yours and announced in a voice you barely recognize, “I’m gonna come.”

Propping yourself onto your elbows, you nod at him. “Pull out then.”

“Are you sure?” 

 Stuck between the incredulous look painted across your features and how your nails press a little tighter into his skin, Gojo listens. Not without hissing out a disgruntled, “Fine.”

Pulling out from your wet pussy, Gojo’s hand wraps around his dick and he strokes it fast and hot. He growls with sharp relief when you reach a hand down to massage his sac. He thinks he may come all over you if you continue doing that.

“Fuck,” he snarls when your fingers graze the base of his cock. 

Cracking his eyes open, he messily knocks your hand away from him before intertwining his fingers with yours and grabbing himself with his free hand, stroking hard and fast. Every so often his tip would intentionally rub up and press against your nub, successfully stimulating the sensitive bundle of nerves with the main goal to climax.

With every pent-up thought he’s had about you, Gojo finally comes with you in tow. His cum dribbles out from his slit and lands on your skin— mostly between your inner thighs and folds.

“So,” Gojo starts, his hands wandering up to the middle of your back after a few moments of comfortable shared silence between you two. As much as he wanted to relax in your post-sex session and bask in its warm glow, he had to address the elephant in the room.

You hum in response as you work the buttons of your blouse, waiting for him to continue. “When you said ‘next time’, did you seriously mean t—” 

The two of you abruptly jump apart at the telltale sound of heels clicking down the hall drawing closer and closer to Gojo’s office door. In a panic, you leap off his desk, sending a flurry of sheets flying down to the floor into a sorry pile. 

“Nice going,” Gojo remarks with a sly grin, as you hurriedly shimmy your pants up your legs. The sheen layer of sweat— among other things— makes it a bit difficult for you to easily slip them on.

Once they’re settled at your hips and you tend to the zip, you cast a withering glare his way, you’re relieved to see that he’s already tucked himself away into his pants, already looking presentable by the time the door opens.

With the click of the lock giving way, you hear a woman starkly ask, “Why are all the lights off?”

You could pinpoint that voice from a kilometre away. 

Turning on your heel, you see the shadowy figure of one of your closest colleagues in the dark of the room. “Utahime!”

When the head director steps into the room and flicks on the lights, the sudden brightness has you squinting your eyes a bit. Upon catching your gaze she offers you a sincere smile, visibly lighting up at the sight of you.  

But it doesn’t last long because seconds after her smile morphs into a displeased scowl when she spots Gojo lounging boneless in his office chair a few feet away.

“And why’s it so…” Utahime fans a delicate hand in front of her face, casting a weary gaze at you two from across the room. “Warm in here?” she questions no one in particular.

Her eyes take in the setting before her, and she pauses in her tracks. You could only imagine what thoughts were racing through her mind.

“What hap—”

“—It’s warm?! I couldn’t even tell!” you respond, a bit too chipper as you cut her line of questioning off. A bit too fast. 

From behind you, you hear Gojo’s stifled laughter that’s covered by poorly by a ridiculous attempt at a coughing fit.

“Well,” you wring your hands together subconsciously, “what brings you here?”

Noticing your off demeanour, Utahime fixes you with a puzzled look that reads as if she were asking you "are you okay?" as your plastered smile only grows more strained by the second.

“I came here to grab your reports and documentation from Gojo’s outbox, but somebody,” cue Satoru slipping on his signature shades to deflect the icy stare Utahime was housing, “forgot to put them there. Hence why I’m here.”

“Oh, right!” Gojo hums, rolling back from his desk as he reaches down to gather the scattered sheets that had fallen to the floor. “They’re all here.”

You both watch in shared silence as he flips through each page, meticulously setting each one aside that wasn’t labeled with your name on the header. 

Thrown off by how long he’s deliberately taking in smoothing out the crinkles on each page, the older woman stomps up to Gojo and unceremoniously slaps her hand on the wooden table. “Give me that, will you?!” she exclaims, snatching and wrestling the papers out from his hands.

“Ah! Wait—”

Scanning the pages your department leader seems content that everything’s in order.

Until it's not?

The woman’s once sunny and bright disposition suddenly flips on his head, as there seems to be something written on that page midway that makes her freeze.

“Go ahead and hand me a new copy,” Utahime says, practically tossing the sheets of paper back onto his desk without a second glance. She smooths her hands down the silky expanse of her long skirt, once, twice, then three times for good measure. “I want it in my inbox by next Monday.”

She nods curtly at you before she turns and practically books it to his door. You don’t know why but you swear you saw the faintest hue of pink tickling the apples of her cheeks. There was also an expression that couldn’t quite put your finger on that highlighted her features. 

If you were to say though, her emotion looked between the mix of detachment, embarrassment… wait, no. It was mortification.

But what was there to be mortified over?  

“What’s wrong with the copy you gave her?”

Gojo presses his lips together in a sad attempt to keep his smile at bay as he hands it over to you to see for yourself.

Eyebrows furrowed, you skim each sheet. You don’t get it. What’s the problem with—

That’s until you notice that some of the pages are sticking together. It’s on the third page you see it and understand why Utahime was in such a rush to leave. Why she kept wiping her hands onto her clothing.

Right there among the printed hiragana and kanji was a few small white streaks of fluid covering bolded characters and numbers. 

Oh no.

“Y’know…” The sleeve of his dress shirt rests along your neck as his hand squeezes at your shoulder. Delicate fingers slide against your bare skin and pull at the strap of your bra, successfully tucking it underneath your blouse again. Had that been poking out the entire time?!  “I knew it would’ve been a good idea to finish inside.”

Horrified that you’d have to deal with the information of going back to Utahime next week knowing that she knows what you guys did, has you burying your face into Gojo’s chest and letting out a muffled scream.

“Just saying!”

FIN

i don't know how to stay within the maximum word count for the life of me... i'm not sorry!

[nvuy]

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE TO THE BOOTHILL COMMUNITY I'm eating very well this week salute for your contribution 🫡🫡🫡 I also like the idea of sappy boothill he's the type to say "my girlfriend hates me I hope I die" and the Jessica and Roger rabbit dynamic is so!!!

he’s your ride or die. it’s most definitely a case of somebody asking “what do you see in him?” to which you reply “he makes me laugh.”

he’s so whipped to the point he’ll be in a serious debacle with somebody, guns drawn, throwing threats, but as soon as he hears the custom ringtone he’s set up that indicates that it’s you calling, he holds up a finger to his opponent and answers the call.

example: “oh, keep talking.” his gun is aimed directly in the centre of his opponent’s forehead. “one more word and i’ll blow a nice hole through yo–”

his pocket vibrates and chimes a ridiculous tune.

gun disappears back in its holster, the red targets in his irides fade and he turns his body away to answer the phone. “hey sweetie!”

his opponent is stunned. “wh–”

boothill holds up a finger. “of course i can buy dinner on the way home! what do you want to eat?” his opponent just barely hears a voice speaking on the other side of the phone. “mhm… i can get that… no problem… hey, you’re not working on friday, right? i’ll take ya out for dinner. there’s a nice little restaurant on the xianzhou luofu i think you’d like… sound good? i’ll see you tonight… love ya lots.”

probably makes kissy noises before he hangs up.

“seriously? are you–”

whoops. trigger finger’s a bit too itchy today.

adding onto what you said, he’s so sad when you’re upset with him. to me, he seems very disorganised and more of a risk taker. he’s got a body of steel; lots of risks won’t even leave a dent on him. he’s constantly running late to things, constantly leaving tasks unfinished to start something he finds more interesting. he’s in for the thrill of the ride.

one time, he forgot a date he himself had set up.

not only did he come home to find you clearly upset over it, but he was absolutely fuming at himself. apologised one million times to you, two million kisses, probably got on his knees, and he can’t ever forgive himself.

even if you’ve already forgiven him, you’re laughing and trying to get him to stand up because “you’re a grown man acting like this.” he latches onto you like a koala bear.

it’s not even that deep either. it’s just a lunch. it’s not like it was a special occasion. speaking of which, he’d never forget a birthday, valentine’s day, whatever traditional holidays you celebrate. never ever.

he’s actually such a sappy gooey loser it’s so sweet. his favourite thing to do is bury his face in your neck or your chest or your lap. he’s all over you like sticky sweet honey, and you can’t get rid of him that easily.

[kbwrites]

Breaking up is hard to do!

synopsis: breaking up with the jjk men.

⚝characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami

⚝content: heavy angst, gaslighting(Gojo's), depression (Suguru's), mutual breakup(Nanami's)

⚝wc: 3.5k

Satoru Gojo

“Yeah so then Yuji popped out of the crate and surprised them all! You should’ve seen it baby!” Satoru wheezes holding his stomach as he recalls the event from the day.

No matter how hard you try though, you can only muster a small smile.

It had become really hard to do much else recently. With the weight of the hundreds of tasks at work taking its toll. Satoru looks over at you, waiting for a laugh—but it doesn’t come.

“Hellooo? Everything alright princess?” He questions giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Mhmm!” You nod.

He looks at you for another moment, unreadable expression on his face. Satoru shifts, clearly expecting more from you. “You sure? You’ve been quiet tonight. That’s not like you,” he says, his voice still light, but there’s a hint of curiosity now.

You try to hold back the frustration, but it bubbles up anyway. “I’m just tired, Satoru.”

“Tired? Seriously?” he mutters, pulling his hand away. “You work, what, a nine-to-five? You act like you’re running yourself into the ground.”

You blink, taken aback by his dismissive tone. “Satoru, it’s not just about the hours. It’s everything piling up, and—”

“Piling up?” He cuts you off with a scoff, already reaching for his phone. “Why didn’t you just say something sooner? You know I could’ve hired someone to handle that for you. I’ve got the money. You shouldn’t be stressing over... whatever this is.”

The words sting. You knew his mind would go there. It always does—like money could just make the exhaustion disappear, like hiring someone to take care of the smaller details would magically solve everything.

“It’s not about the money, Satoru.” you snap, trying to hold onto your patience. “I don’t need someone else doing my job for me. I just... I need you to listen.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Listen? What do you expect me to say? You’re tired. I get it. But don’t act like you’re drowning when I could have fixed this a long time ago. Hell, I could’ve bought you time off or flown you somewhere. You're sittin' here sulking like I can’t take care of things.”

You clench your fists, the exhaustion now compounded by frustration. “It’s not about you fixing things, Satoru. Sometimes I just need support—not your money.”

He stares at you, eyes narrowing. “Right. So you want to feel miserable instead of letting me help. That’s real smart, princess.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you shove clothes into your bag, the sound of zippers and drawers slamming echoing through the room. You can feel Satoru’s presence behind you, hovering, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Not after that.

“C'mon, princess.” he says, his voice exasperated, like he’s the one who's supposed to be annoyed. “What are you doing? Where do you think you’re going?”

You don’t answer, your hands moving faster, yanking more clothes off hangers, ignoring the sting behind your eyes. You’re so angry you can barely breathe.

“I’ll book us a trip,” Satoru tries again, a hint of desperation creeping into his usually arrogant tone. “How about Paris? We’ll stay at that five-star hotel you like, the one with the private balcony. You love that place.”

Your jaw clenches. “This isn’t about a vacation, Satoru,” you snap, stuffing the last of your things into the bag. “It’s not about your money or your fancy hotels.”

“Then what is it about?” he shoots back, his voice rising with frustration. “You’re acting like I haven’t given you everything. "What more do you want?"

You freeze, bag halfway zipped, your body trembling as you turn to face him. His icy blue eyes are wide, confused, and maybe even a little hurt, but you’re beyond caring. “I want you to see me!” you shout, the words tearing out of you, louder than you intended. “I don’t need you to throw money at the problem! I need you to actually understand what I’m going through!”

Satoru stares at you, speechless for once. His mouth opens, but no words come out. He looks almost... shocked, like he can’t comprehend that his money, his status, can’t fix this. That he can’t fix this.

“Do you even care?” you ask, your voice quieter now, but no less angry. “Do you care about how I feel? Or is it just easier for you to throw cash at me until I stop complaining?”

He’s silent, his gaze hardening as he crosses his arms. “I’m trying to help. What else do you want me to do?”

“I want you to listen!” You throw your hands up in frustration, feeling more alone than ever. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want trips or fancy dinners. I want you to care about me, Satoru. Not just the idea of me.”

His lips press into a thin line, but he says nothing. The silence is louder than any of his words.

As your hand grips the doorknob, ready to leave, Satoru’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and bitter.

“Right, run off to Shoko’s.” he scoffs, his arms crossed defensively. “You always do this, don’t you? The moment things get tough, you bolt. Guess it’s easier to complain to her than actually deal with me.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, stopping you in your tracks. You turn slowly to face him, disbelief clouding your vision. He’s standing there, arms folded, arrogance in his posture.

“I always do this?” you repeat, your voice trembling with anger. “I’ve stayed through everything, Satoru!"

“You’re just like Suguru.” Satoru spits out, the words dripping with bitterness and desperation.

Your hand freezes on the handle. You weren’t expecting that. Slowly, you turn to look at him, and the mask of arrogance has cracked. His eyes are wild, wide with something close to panic. “Running away the moment things get hard,” he continues, his voice shaking slightly. “Is that it? Just gonna leave like he did?”

Your heart skips a beat, anger fading for a moment as something else stirs inside you. You’ve seen Satoru angry before, frustrated, even cold—but this? This is different.

“That’s not fair.” you say quietly, though the anger still simmers beneath the surface. “I’m not leaving because things are hard. I’m leaving because you’re not listening.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow, his lips pressing into a hard line. Then he snaps, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade, sharp and cold. “Well, fine. Go. I survived him abandoning me, I’ll survive you too.”

His words sting, burning through the air with a finality that makes your breath hitch. It’s a challenge, a defense—his way of masking the fear that’s clawing at him from the inside out. He’s pushing you away before you can leave, just like he’s done with everything else that’s threatened to crack his carefully controlled world.

You stand there, frozen for a moment, staring at him as his walls rise higher, shutting you out. This is what it’s come to. He’s too scared to let you in, too scared to admit that you leaving isn’t something he can just survive—that it’s something that terrifies him.

But he won’t say it. He won’t ask you to stay.

And that’s when you know.

Suguru Geto

You rest under the comfort of your blanket. How many days have you been in this bed? Three days? Four? 

The world was just too much right now, and your room was the only security available. It had been a week since Suguru vanished without a word, leaving behind nothing but unanswered questions and broken trust. Principal Yaga’s words still echoed in your mind—a whole village slaughtered, his parents among the dead. 

And not even a text.

You weren’t sure if he was even alive, maybe it would be better if he wasn’t. At least then you wouldn’t have to come to terms with the fact that the love of your life was now a wanted killer.

You took another tissue from the box, blowing into it and tossing the crumpled mess into the garbage can.

Satoru hadn’t responded either, was he okay? Did he know?

Your mind screamed for silence, for the thoughts to stop, but they kept coming, relentless.

“Angel?”

That voice… no it couldn’t be. You lower the covers from your face.

It was

“Hi baby...” his normally soothing voice does little to alleviate the ache in your chest.

“You…” your voice barely a whisper, threatening to break. “I thought you were dead.”

He moves closer, his footsteps barely making a sound on the floor, and you finally take him in. Despite everything, despite the horrors you’ve been told, he looks… normal.

How could he look so much like the Suguru you knew, the Suguru you loved, when everything inside of you was shattered?

Was this the same man who held you close? Whispered sweet nothings in your ear—promised to protect you with his life? 

“It’s me, (Y/N).”  he says softly, his voice cutting through the silence as if he had read your thoughts.

The tenderness in his tone feels like a knife twisting in your chest. How could he say that—so casually, so easily? Like everything was normal, like your world hadn’t come crashing down around you. You blink, trying to force the tears back, trying to find the right words, but nothing comes.

“Are you?” your voice is small, barely more than a whisper. Doubt lingers in every syllable.

He doesn’t respond to your question. Instead, his gaze softens, and without a word, he pulls the covers off of you. The cold air rushes over your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you had buried yourself in, and for a moment you flinch, instinctively clutching the blanket before you let it slip from your fingers.

His eyes trace over your fragile form, and there’s something in them—a flicker of sympathy, regret, even—but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s the reason for your downward spiral. He knows it too. The weight of it presses on him, though he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he moves with a gentleness you hadn’t expected, sliding his arms under you and lifting you up as if you weighed nothing.

You want to protest, want to ask what he thinks he’s doing, but you’re too tired, too drained to fight. So you let him carry you. His arms are steady, and despite everything, you can’t help but melt in his embrace.

He takes you into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the space as he sets you down gently. You can feel the cool tile under your feet as he kneels in front of the tub, turning the faucet on and testing the temperature.

You had so many things you wanted to say. You wanted to yell at him, curse him, ask him why. But you couldn’t.

He dips his hand under the stream, adjusting the temperature until it’s just right. His movements are deliberate, methodical, as if this is the only way he knows how to show you any kind of care right now.

You stand there, numb and silent, watching him. The man who destroyed your world, now kneeling before you, acting as though he can piece it back together with something as simple as a bath. It feels absurd, almost cruel, but at the same time, you don’t have the strength to stop him.

Suguru rises to his feet, his presence towering yet calm as he began to undress you. Gentle hands pulling his t-shirt off of you, the one you had been clinging onto for days.

His hands brush lightly against your skin as he lifts the shirt over your head, sending a shiver down your spine.

He had seen you in this state before, many times. But this….this was different.

Suguru guides you to the shower, washing your body with a gentleness you missed so deeply.

You close your eyes, letting him take care of you, even though you don’t understand why or how he can. The silence between you grows heavier with every passing second, filled with words unspoken and emotions too tangled to sort out.

Finally, you speak, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. “Why are you here, Suguru?”

His hand pauses for a moment, the washcloth resting against your skin. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, but when he answers, his voice is low, steady, like he’s speaking more to himself than to you.

“Because I….I love you” His voice almost too quiet, as if he’s afraid to say the words out loud.

“Then why, Suguru?” your voice trembles, almost breaking under the weight of your next words. “Is it true? You killed those people?”

The washcloth falls from his hand, splashing into the water as the silence between you deepens. He doesn’t speak right away, and the hesitation in his silence is an answer in itself.

You swallow hard, the air thick with the weight of the truth you already know but can’t bear to accept.

“They were… in the way,” he finally admits, his voice low, almost hollow.

You step out of the shower, the warm water sliding off your skin in slow rivulets. Without thinking, you reach for the towel, wrapping it tightly around yourself like armor.

This isn’t the man you loved, the one who spoke of protecting the weak, of valuing life. Yet, there’s something so heartbreakingly familiar in the way he says it—like a twisted version of the Suguru you knew, now wrapped in darkness.

“But those were people, Suguru,” you say, your voice fragile, as if you’re trying to reach the man you once knew beneath the monster he’s become. “Innocent people. How could you…?”

He takes a deep breath, stepping closer to you, his hand brushing against your skin, cold and distant. “Because this world is broken.” he murmurs. “And I need to fix it. I had to do it. Can’t you see that? We—sorcerers—we’re meant for something greater. And they… they were holding us back.”

You shake your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “I don’t understand, Suguru. I don’t understand any of this.”

He steps closer, his hand cupping your face gently, as though trying to reassure you with his touch. "Come with me." he whispers, his voice softer now, pleading. “Run away with me. Together, we can build something new. You don’t have to be a part of this broken world anymore. We can leave it all behind.”

Before you can respond, his lips press against yours, a kiss that’s both gentle and urgent, as though he’s trying to pour every unsaid word, every plea, into this one moment. It’s the Suguru you remember—the Suguru who once made you feel safe, loved.

But the reality of who he’s become crashes down on you.

You pull away, your hands pressed firmly against his chest, creating a wall between you. “No.” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I can’t.”

For a moment, Suguru just stands there, staring at you, his dark eyes searching yours for something—some kind of understanding, some sign that you’ll change your mind. His hand lingers on your cheek, his touch softer now, almost hesitant, as though he’s trying to hold on to whatever connection is left.

But then, slowly, he withdraws, his hand falling back to his side. He straightens up, his expression hardening as he steps away from you, giving you the space you so desperately need. The softness in his eyes fades, replaced by the cold determination you’ve seen before.

“You’ll see,” he says, his voice quiet, but there’s a sharp edge to it now. “One day, you’ll understand. When you see what I’ve seen, when you finally understand the truth about this world—you’ll come around. I know you will.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and without another glance, he turns and walks toward the door, leaving you standing alone, trembling in the silence.

Nanami Kento

Kento was an honest man. There was nothing he ever kept from you. Other people might view him as a hard shell, but you could read him like a book.

So when he came to bed that night, holding you just a little tighter than usual—you knew something was up.

You shifted slightly in his embrace, his grip tightening instinctively as if he feared you might slip away.

“Kento?” you asked softly, your voice breaking the stillness of the room. 

“I’ve decided to talk to Gojo tomorrow.” he said quietly, his voice steady but with a hint of resolve. “I want to return to being a sorcerer.”

The words hung in the air, sinking into you like lead. You stiffened, a sharp sting blooming in your chest as you processed his decision.

“Are you seriously considering this?” Your voice trembled with a mix of hurt and disbelief. “You know what that life entails. You’ve seen the consequences. Are you really willing to go back to that danger?”

Kento’s silence was heavier than any response he could have given. His arms, though still holding you close, seemed distant now, as if they were reaching out from across a chasm of uncertainty.

“I’ve thought it through,” he said finally, though his tone lacked the conviction he tried to project. “I need to do this for myself. I can’t keep pretending I’m satisfied with where I am.”

The last words echoed in your ears their weight sinking deep into your heart. “So you’re not satisfied with me?” you whispered, barely able to speak past the knot forming in your throat.

Kento’s eyes widened in shock. “No, that’s not what I meant—”

“Then what is it, Kento?” you demanded, frustration and hurt sharpening your words. “We have something good here. You have a good job. You left Jujustu High for a reason! What about Haibara—”

At the mention of Haibara, Kento’s face hardened. His eyes, which had been searching for the right words, now burned with anger and frustration. “Don’t.”

Your eyes widen at his tone. He sighs, trying to catch himself. “This…isn’t about him, or his fate. It’s about my own path, my own choices. You think I’m risking everything without knowing the cost?”

 “And what do you expect me to do, Kento?” Your voice cracked, raw emotion rising as you slid out of bed, unable to lie still any longer. “Sit at home and worry about you? Not knowing if you’re going to come back in one piece? I can’t live like that! I can’t live every day with the fear that you might not come back, that you might be hurt or worse?”

The silence that followed was suffocating. You paced the room, your emotions boiling over, while Kento sat still, his gaze following you but offering no solace.

“You’re asking me to accept a life where every day is a gamble with your safety!” You stopped, turning to face him, your chest heaving with emotion. “How am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to pretend everything’s okay when the reality is that you might not come back to me? This isn’t just about you, Kento. It’s about us, our future!”

Kento ran a hand through his blond locks, frustration etched into every line of his face. “I’m not asking you to pretend it’s okay. I’m asking you to understand that this is something I need to do for myself, even if it means risking everything.”

You blinked, tears blurring your vision as his words sank in. “And what if everything we have is the cost?”

The question lingered, echoing in the space between you. Kento rose from the bed, standing tall before you, but the weight of the moment seemed to bow his shoulders.

He stepped closer, his hands trembling slightly as they cupped your face. His eyes, filled with a deep sadness, searched yours, looking for understanding that he knew might never come. “I love you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You need to know that.”

You shook your head, your voice breaking. “But that isn’t enough… is it? It never will be…”

There was a heavy silence between you, the weight of your words pressing down on both of you.

“I… can’t watch you throw your life away, Kento.”

He took a deep breath, the sound heavy with resignation. "Then… we’ve both made our decision."

His hands, which had held you with such tenderness, felt distant as you pulled away. You took a step back, a sob catching in your throat.

He opens his mouth, but no words come out with a trembling breath, he stepped forward and gently pulled you into his arms. The embrace was tender, filled with the weight of finality.

He buried his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent one last time as if trying to imprint it into his memory. The warmth of his body, once a comfort, now felt like a dagger in your chest.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, his voice strained. The words were barely audible, but the sentiment hung heavy in the air.

Kento lingered for a moment, his hand sliding from your back to gently cup your face. His thumb brushed away the tear you hadn’t realized had fallen, and his expression softened with a promise you weren’t sure either of you could believe.

“I’ll come back,” he whispered, his voice strained but resolute. “Somehow… I’ll find my way back to you. One day.”

You clung to him for a moment longer, feeling the ache of goodbye in every fiber of your being, before he slowly pulled away. Leaving you.

[evie-sturns]

calm - Matt Sturniolo

summary: after a terrible day of arguing with your boyfriend, accidentally breaking your favorite perfume, and now your hair and outfit not going to plan, all your emotions hit you at once and matt has to calm you down.

contains: fluff, crying, arguing, comforting!matt.

----------------------------------------------------------

10:38am

i huff angrily as i tug up my knotty hair into a ponytail, my arms burn while i attempt to tie the elastic around my thick hair. suddenly the elastic snaps, pinging my hand almost in a mocking way.

"oh for fucks sake!" i whine, throwing my fact into my hands as i reach for the hair gel.

i plop more on the top of my head, my hands now sticky and my whole body sweating. i finally get my hair up into a ponytail, but it looks like total shit.

i sigh before stomping out of the bathroom into matt and i's shared room, i swing open the door and ignore matt as i reach for the closet.

matt and i have argued a record amount of times today, it's almost impressive.

flashback:

it was 6 in the morning, and i rolled over onto matt accidentally.

he shoots up in bed as i lay my body weight on his arm, "ow! ow get the fuck off!" he says in a pissy mood, i drift awake slowly as matt shoves me off him.

"matt come on." i groan, grabbing my shoulder from where he just shoved me off of him. "dont say come on like you didn't just break my fucking arm and wake me up at 6am in one sweep."

"i'm not that heavy matt, don't be stupid." i scoff, rolling over in bed to the edge of the mattress, a good meter away from him.

"yes you are, your fully body weight was on my arm." he says with an attitude,

"so you're calling me fat?" i ask angrily,

"dude, just go get out of here." matt demands, pointing towards the door, the nickname stinging a little bit.

"its my room matt, i'll stay right here, not my fault your acting like a child." i raise my voice, slamming my body down onto the mattress and tugging the covers up over me, my back facing matt.

i wasn't expecting matt to leave, but he did. he shot up out of bed and grabbed his pillow, he walked swiftly out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him

and i think that set the mood for the whole day, because now 4 hours have passed and we’ve argued about matt being lazy, me leaving out dishes, him ignoring me, and me apparently being a brat.

-

i sort through our closet, tugging out a small skirt and one of matt's shirt.

"did i say you could borrow that?" matt speaks from the edge of the bed, my head snaps round to look at him.

"stop matt!" i almost yell, which shuts matt up quickly.

i storm back into the bathroom, i hear matt laugh slightly from behind me.

i tear off my pyjamas, and tug up the tiny skirt. as i go to zip up the sides the zipper pops off.

and that will do it.

i erupt into a loud sob, which quickly escalates into floods of tears.

i hear some movement coming from matt and i’s room before the bathroom door swings open, matt takes one look at me and his face drops.

i don’t want to look at him, or for matt to see me like this.

“hey- hey what’s going on sweetheart?” matt says, panic clear in his voice as he reaches for the side of my face.

i shake my head as more and more tears flow down my flushed cheeks.

he wraps his arms around me and i bury my face in the fabric of his shirt.

i let out shaky breaths as i attempt to calm myself down, my body shaking in matt’s arms.

“come- come to the bedroom.” he whispers into my hair before picking me up by my ass.

i nod as i bury my face into his shoulder, matt carries me into our air conditioned bedroom and plops me down on the edge of the bed.

my legs dangle of the edge of the matress, matt sits down right beside me, the matress shifting under his weight.

he wraps his arm around my shoulder and tugs me closer to him as i continue to cry.

“what’s going on baby.” matt says softly, rubbing my back.

i crawl over and sit myself down on matt’s lap, straddling him.

he grabs the sides of my face with two hands, his thumbs wiping my tears delicately.

“you- you’re mad at me.” i squeeze out with a loud voice crack

matt’s eyebrows furrow, but i continue to speak “and- and i don’t look good.. like my hair and outfit.” i sniff

matt plants a kiss to my swollen lips, he grabs my chin, making me look at him.

“i would never be mad at you princess, sometimes people fight and that’s okay, but what happened today wasn’t worth fighting for.” matt says while looking into my eyes

“and you look absolutely gorgeous, honestly.” matt says, his eyes gazing over my face.

“i didn’t mean to wake you up this morning- i promise.” i sob, letting my head fall onto matt’s shoulder.

“you know i’m grumpy in the mornings don’t you, it’s not your fault, and i’m so sorry for making you feel like it was.” matt sighs, rubbing my back soothingly.

i sit on his lap in silence for a couple minutes as i take in sharp breaths.

i feel matts chest rise and fall against mine, i attempt to copy his breathing.

“my skirt broke earlier.” i say lightly, lifting my face away from matt’s shoulder.

“did it?” matt asks, his head tilting down as his long fingers inspect my skirt.

i nod, pointing to the broken zip. “i’ll get you another one tomorrow, how about that?” he speaks with a small smile.

“you don’t have to do that.” i breathe, “i’m gonna do it anyway as an apology for how i acted today.” he protests.

“let’s get you out of that skirt then if it’s broken.” matt suggests, picking me up again and walking me over the the closet.

he pulls out a pair of his sweatpants and brings me back over to the bed, matt places me down on the edge of the bed and bends down.

his hands tug down the hem of my skirt, pulling it down my thighs.

he purses his lips out of concentration before tugging the sweatpants up my legs.

he stands back up “you want your hair out?” he asks,

“it’s gonna be crunchy if i take it out, because of the amount of gel i put in.. but it’s also tugging on my scalp like crazy.”

“i’ll wash your hair later for you.” matt smiles, he’s always loved washing my hair for some reason.

i wipe my face, flustered by his words.

“do you want some water?” he asks, i rub my puffy eyes with a nod.

he walks over to me and grabs my hand, tugging me up off the bed. matt walks me out of our room into the corridor.

i follow closely behind him as we walk down the corridor into the kitchen.

i stand next to the counter top, matt walks over to me and grabs me under my armpits before lifting me up onto the countertop.

he grabs a cup and fills it up with cold water before walking over to me.

he holds it up to my lips, “and… open.” he says, i open my mouth slightly and matt pours some water into my mouth,

he accidentally pours too much, my cheeks hollowing out as i lock eyes with him.

i let out a loud laugh, spraying the water all over his shirt.

i slam a hand over my mouth as the water leaks down my chin.

“oh- my god.” matt erupts into laughter, both of our laughs filling the room.

“i am so sorry-“ i say in between giggles.

“how did that even happen-“ matt rubs his eyes with a wide smile,

“i’m so sorry- i don’t even know-“ i laugh,

but i’m cut off by his soft lips pressed against mine.

“i love you.” he mutters against my lips with a grin,

“i love you more.”

——

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[insufferablelust]

GEVĪ [BEAUTIFUL] Aemond Targaryen x F!Sister!Reader

This work contains mature acts, Minors DNI. 18+ Only.

Two dragons, hatched from the same womb, nurtured by the same hands, yet bestowed with different fates— how do you, rekindle your love for Aemond after he has left you to pursue your mother and brother’s wishes? well he will show you how.

Words counted: 7.2k

Content include: 18+ MDNI! Targcest (canon incest practice of the Targaryen house), Smut, Sex, Oral sex (F receiving), Heavy corruption kink, breeding kink, Slight exhibitionism (Sex next to window), Choking, Claiming of maidenhood, Manhandling, Slight degradation, Reader has the attributes of the Targaryens (silver hair, purple eyes etc), Mention of blood (nothing graphic), Slight angst (mention of fidelity and arguments nothing heavy), Mention of usurping the throne (half-canon), LOTS of pet names (i’m a sucker for those).

Hello! this is my second HOTD character fic, yes this one is smutty too lol, its a filler i wish to post before posting the completed requests, this is NOT BETA’d, because i’m slammed with work so I apologize, however, a friend of mine will try to beta this soon (so it’ll be revised). Remember that english is not my native language so bear with me. My request is always open for HOTD characters. Enjoy and let me know what you think! thank you my loves.

Masterlist

The soft pitter patter sound of your nieces and nephews makes you giggle in delight, their tiny puffy hands clutching the dragon figure, making gestures of flying them around, as they make sounds to imitate the giant beasts. Jaeherys and Jaehaera were playing on your personal chambers, as you hand invited your older sister, Helaena, to have a chat. You have always try and take care of Helaena, even when she is the older one, you hold a strong contentment to make sure she is alright, especially knowing her hardened path with that of your older brother, the King himself.

“Do you have a name for this one, sweet Prince?” You tenderly asked Jaehaerys, taking one of the dragons on the soft fur carpet up ahead of his line of sight, “Sunwyre!” Jaehaerys exclaimed excitedly, making you throw your head back and laugh softly, his mispronunciation have always warmed your heart, the innocent nature of children, their pure conscience, not yet tainted by royally duties, nor know the taste of power, their world filled with imaginary tales, and make-do creatures.

“Your father’s dragon hm? and what about… this one?” You hold another dragon figure now, a bigger one than the last, this one has the color of dark green, oddly reminding you of a certain someone’s dragon. Ah. “Vhagaw!” it was Jaehaera’s turn to answer, a shy quiet little girl just like you once were, but bright and intelligent nonetheless. Your lips curled into a warm smile, eyes crinkling at the adoration of your niece and nephew. You had hopes for them, even through this impossible times, that they uphold the values of their mother, Helaena, more than they do that of your older brother, Aegon.

“Vhagar? uncle Aemond’s dr—“

“Hm, the most powerful one, isn’t that right, Jaehaera?”

Your head snapped backwards as you heard his velvety voice, gulping quickly at the moment you caught sight of his figure, standing tall, leaning against the entryway of your chambers, head tilted, eyes darted to you, and lips stretched in a knowing grin.

“Aemond…”

It has been awhile since you saw him last, having been too angry to bid him farewell when he went on his way to propose a marriage deal between he and one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters. He sought you out for hours leading up to his leave and the days afterwards, yet you always manage to elude him, breaking your regular routine of breaking your fast with him, and retreating to your chambers at the earliest convenience, even strictly telling the guards stationed at your door to never let anyone in, even the Prince himself, not that they can say much if he insisted, but you know if he heard of your hardened resentment, he would never push you. No, not his little sweet sister, the delight of his days, the beacon of his visions, the only decadent part left from his viscous life.

You had spent your days crying inside your chambers, for you know it was selfish of you to be mad at him for doing his duty, but the pain had eaten its way through your heart, gnawing ever so brazenly through your sanity. You had refused to talk to your mother, only limiting few chosen ladies of your maids to be of assistance to you— once telling Alicent that you have no desire with entangling yourself in her business to Aegon’s crowning.

You see, Aemond and you were always inseparable, from the day you were born, he had been so infatuated by the small babe cradled by his mother, someone other than Helaena that he saw his mother doted on, he admitted that he was jealous of the treatment both you and Daeron received, something he never felt from his own mother, but alas your soft velvet nature is incredibly difficult to resist, not by his mother and well, certainly not him. A pretty little thing you are. Always so gentle, docile, never fuss much even as an infant. He would always play with your babbling lips when you talked about your lessons, or how you have dreamed on claiming a dragon of your own.

Your silver locks of hair as the curtain to your beautiful supple face, eyes alike his— lilac with tinges softer, your pink dewy lips… oh the stuff of dreams to him, curve of your neck which usually adorned by the various jewels your mother sought out for you, your enticing figure— growing into a grown Princess that bewitched him beyond belief. You are the epitome of everything he was not and never will be, an angelic dew scented nymph, to his raging soulless dragon.

Growing up with you alongside him was what made his life bearable, even through all the bullying he has suffered by the hands of his own brother, and nephews as well as the petulant ignorance of both of your parents, you made it all somehow possible. You would tend to him, fill his days with the stories and knowledge you have learnt from your Septa, blabbering about the story of the Conquerer’s war in the Dornish region, and fluttering his heart when you speak of your pious upbringing, obviously influenced by his mother.

It was you who cleaned his wounds when Aegon had pushed him too far, it was you who always listened to his heart’s content— during his darkest depleted epoch, it was you who wiped his tears after he was presented with a pig by his brother and nephew, sweet you— who have claimed yourself a dragon, one gentle hatchling when an egg was placed on your cradle. He was wary then, that you too, would cast him away, make him feel small— but alas he had judged you too quickly, for you never do any of his blackest imaginations, instead you would warm him up to your little dragon, a gesture which granted him confidence to later tame the beast herself, Vhagar.

But he had left you. For some other Baratheon girl. He left you to crawl into your hole of despair and insecurities. Damning yourself on what had you done for fate to be so cruel to you. What had you done for the Gods to banish his hands away from your own.

“Sister…”

His tone had been gentle, you looked away as you could not even peer into his eyes for you know he would be able to see the looming tears on your gentle violet eyes, one he had seen in his dreams each night since his return back to the Keep.

“Here, Jaehaerys, how about you play with Sunfyre, hm?” Your voice was shaky, eyes fleeting everywhere but at him, you are desperate to run away, anywhere but here, “Jaehaera, come, accompany your brother with Vhagar, yes?”

“Yes, auntie.”

“Good girl, Jaehaera, my sweet princess.” You kissed her temple lovingly, feeling saddened that you had to pry away from your niece and nephew so soon, but you had to go away, “Helaena, I must go, I shall catch you later during supper, yes?” Your eyes met that of your older sister’s distant ones, who just hummed, as she continued to draw some sketches on her brown paper. You were always grateful for her inquisitive mind, now more-so. Pecking a small kiss to her temple before standing up.

“Little one wait—“ You felt his hands graze the peeking flesh underneath the slit of your gown, the touch was— exhilarating, igniting that dragon fire inside of you once more, yet you paid it no mind, not now, you thought. Heels walking past him, making a beeline towards your reading chamber, the only place where you can escape.

Sighing softly, your eyes shut tight, the memory of his voice, his touch, his look, and even the feeling of his breath so close yet so far away, it makes you shudder. Gods, you think. Even after leaving you astray for days, he still leaves such an imprint on you, as if he had claimed you from inside out, and you have naught but a small grasp on your will to deny him.

You moved aside, setting yourself beside the door as you slowly drop to your knees, head thrown back against the wall— heart beating way too quick for your own comfort, what in the Seven hells—

“I thought I’d find you here…” You jumped slightly at the sound of your chamber doors opening as well as the sound of his voice again, of course he’d find you here, you thought, he was the one that had begged your mother to designated this place to become your safe haven in the first place, he always found your love for Old Valyrian literature to be as magnificent as you are, and had wished to accommodate you with all there is to know— a tutor, the ancient tomes, and the room itself.

“I do not wish to see you.” You stilled your gaze to the balcony far ahead of you, distracting yourself from his overwhelming presence— his voice, his tall lean figure, his musky smell that strongly resembles home for you, and his oh so devoted attention. “You do not mean that…” There’s a pang of guilt when you heard the softness of his voice, yet you ought to scoff and bit your lip instead.

“You know nothing of my wants or desires, brother.” You cringed at the shakiness of your own tone, scolding yourself at your constant reverie of him, making you lost inside your own thoughts, with tongue too numb, and throat too tight, “Why don’t you fly back to your Baratheon girl on Storms End? you ought to be excited to wed her, are you not?” Venom laced your voice, nails digging onto the soft lilac ensemble you had worn today. He chuckled.

How dare he.

“Little one…” He trailed, crouching down beside you, his thumb and index finger reach out to grip your chin softly yet demandingly all the same, you struggled against him, “Ah ah, do not fuss now.”

“Let me go.”

“Look at me, sweet girl, please?”

Sometimes you wish that the Seven could just curse your brother out for a bit, so that you do not have to be subjected to your own weak will against his own domineering charm, you looked up at him albeit reluctantly, oh how have you torn him to pieces with that look alone.

Your eyes are glistened with unshed tears, lips flushed and slightly pouty just as you used to do when you were a child— begging him to stop studying history and to play with you instead, Aemond does not know how does one capable to hold his life in the gentle crook of their palm, but here you are… his precious little sister, the core of his being.

“There you are, pretty princess..” He gently trace his knuckles across your cheek, then down your jaw, neck, and move to tuck strands of your silver locks behind your ears, softly caressing your hair, “What is it that makes you so restless, hm?” You scoffed at his pathetic attempt to sound dumb to your dilemma, knowing he is far too smart to not know.

“You left me, lēkia.” Brother. Your eyes darted away again before he tuts and tugs at your chin once more, “You know I only do what is asked of me, gevī, to help Aegon secure his throne…” Beautiful.

“Yet, you could not have proposed a better deal?” Your gaze sharpened at him, heart tugging tight at your ribcage, suddenly remembering his promise to you when you were once only seven, and then again during every single one of your name day.

I will never leave you, dōnus ñuhys, you are destined to be my queen, for all the Seven can never deny us.

“Tis’ my duty, sweetling, you know I—“ You rolled your eyes at that, tugging your chin free from his hold but remain your gaze at his own, “So it seems that you have chosen your duty over me then, brother, I should have known I was never more than a vessel to fill your desires with.”

“Left you for a few days, and you run your tongue as you please hm?” You shivered, flush heat spreading through your skin, down to the apex of your thigh, Gods, “Do you deny it, Aemond?” You gulped down your nerves, eyes finding his lips tilted in amusement, his little endeavor has left his sweet girl went feral, it seems.

“A vessel for my desires, you say… little one, how can you be just that when you have me wrapped around your little fingers—“ You were about to retort back, “Ah ah, let me speak.” He grabbed your fingers in his, tilting his head like how he did when you were kids. “All of this, I do for you, as to keep you safe, if that takes me to wed some girl to put you on the throne as My Queen, then tis’ a sacrifice worth my lifetime.”

“How come you do this for me if we shall never be together?” A tear fell from your eyes at last, unable to form other ways to express your distress, “If it is the throne that takes you away from me, I never want it.” You averted your gaze for you know that your brother has always desired Aegon’s throne even before it was bestowed upon the eldest, and he will do whatever it takes go get it as it was his birthright.

“Pretty girl with such pure wishes, you are.” He mused, both hands come up to cusp your jaw, directing your eyes back at him, clicking his tongue, “I will not let you get any less than what you deserve, the realm at our feet with you by my side.” For sure you could never conclude which is sharper, his stare that makes your spine tingle, or his words— full of high promises, one that is dangerous to talk aloud, one that would grant him a harsh slap on the cheek from Mother, one that can cost him his tongue.

“But… Aeg—“

“Do not let that worry your pretty head, little one, just trust me like you always have hm?” His promises were too sweet to resist, the temptation to breach what is beyond the comprehension of your family is too ripe for the taking, you are sure that if either your grandsire or mother have heard of this, you both will never set foot in King’s Landing again, but alas your childhood fairytale always clung to him, his words are inescapable… and well, if he will be damned as the consequences, then you may as well join him, for the world is a dull one without his devotion.

You crack out a tiny smile, one he always cherishes, once it was the center of his boyish infatuation, then it became the only thing other than Vhagar rumble or the promise of the cold hilt of Blackfyre that enlighten his youth, then it became his end goal, your smile— your beautiful oh so sweet saccharine smile. Fuck.

“You know I will always tru—mm!”

The declaration has yet to leave your lips, barely through your tongue when suddenly his breathing fawns over your cupid’s bow, the feeling was exhilarating, his lips—warm lips engulfing your own, gentle at first, like how he had kiss you once, twice, thrice when you were younger— the last one being the night before your sire had died, a day before he set out his proposal to the Baratheons, oh how you’ve missed this— him.

His palm hold a strong grip on the side of your neck, making you gasp and bringing you back slightly down to earth, you didn’t even realize you were floating in the bliss this whole time, “Aem—“ Your sweet voice, he thinks, so soft whimpering his name that the sound is enough to make his breech tighten. Aemond cuts you off by kissing you harder this time, tongue prodding against your lips so you may grant him an entrance to your wet cavern.

When you showed a little resistance through your teasing giggle he bit the bottom of your lip— now red and raw from his ministrations, you mewl deliciously, as he takes his chance to slip his tongue inside, oh, you think, the pressure is so immense, the swirl of his tongue tangling with your own overwhelms you. Aemond explores every inch of you, his thumb grazing at the pulse point on your neck, making you shudder and slightly arch your back to reach out for him, before he parted you both.

“Uh what—“

“Stand up, Princess.” He commanded, holding his hand out to help you up, you tried to stand as steady as you could but there is no mistaking the way your knees wobbled ever so slightly— damn him for making you so weak, Gods.

He spared you no time to muddle with your thoughts before pressing you to the wall beside the door, you whimpered at the sudden force, but he is careful on placing his palm behind your neck to protect your delicate head from the intrusion with the wall. “Aemond, what are we doing?” You asked, eyes glimmering with adoration, admiration, love, lust, fear, anticipation, and everything in between.

He smiled at you, scorching hot sent right to the core on the apex of your thighs, his eye flutter shut before pressing his forehead against yours, his nose also nudged into your own, lips flushed against your quivering one, “What we should have done a long time ago, sweetling.” Aemond moved his fingers to graze against the column of your neck, “Making you mine, in every sense there is, wholly.”

You trembled at that, if it weren’t for his strong grip on your hips and neck, your knees would have buckled and fell then on, you take a deep breath— closing your eyes before entangling your hands around his neck, pressing your lips back to his awaiting red, now tongue and teeth battling in the midst of pure pleasure, hot white whines, and mewls escaped your throat.

Aemond’s arms slipped from his grip on both your neck and hips, crouching down slightly— lips still interlocking with yours ferociously, he hooked them up under the back of your knee before pulling you towards his hips, you moaned through his lips, “Ah!” Wrapping your legs around his back, he effortlessly carry you to the nearby table— places you on top of it, one that so conveniently sat beside the oh so grand window overlooking the surrounding area of smallfolks outside the Keep.

“I have waited years to do this, riñītsos.” He grunts against your lips, you claw at his neck seeking him closer and closer to you, for any space between you felt like a void of infinity— fearing that it, too, will take him away from you again, “to devour you as I please…” He trailed, lips canvassing your skin with heated marks, first the corner of your lips, then to your jaw— oh and your most sensitive part, on the column of your neck. You shivered and let out a wanton whine. Little girl.

“To take you as I want to…” His teeth graze against your pulse as you arch your back, eyes sewn shut, pretty girlish pink lips parted with melodic whimpers escaping them, your skin heated— hands grabby for him, “To make you mine, my little petal.” You gasped as he bites down at the exposed skin, “Aemond!” Your cunt is surely drenching your smallclothes by now, but you spared it no thoughts, for you are too meddled in your blissful paradise.

“When the time comes,” After making his mark, albeit the color is a gentler one than he’d hoped, he grazes his fingers along the silk of your white dress, right atop of where the fabric seal the supple flesh of your breasts, the delectable bud that begs to be caressed, sucked, and worshipped, “Will you let me, hāedar?” His eye glinted at you, so gentle yet ravenous all the same, “Kessa, lēkia.” Yes, brother.

He passionately grunted, pressing his forehead against yours as his nimble fingers unlaced the intricate details of your dress, you are glad that you wore a rather relaxing dress today, for it is not so hard for him to loosen the laces and let it gently fall from your body— the silk pooling at your thigh against the desk, “Gevī.” He muttered as his eyes scanned through your ever so soft skin, from the way your neck is slightly arched backwards from your heavy breathing, your exposed collarbone, to the oh so mouthwatering swell of your breasts. He can feel his breeches tightening to the point of painful tugs, not that he cares much. Beautiful.

“Kostilus, Aemond…” You whimpered when his lips ghosted over your collarbone, “Ah ah, quiet, Princess.” His deep amber voice rattles your spine like no other, “Let me taste you.” He whispered, fingers moving to tug a gentle grip at the reddened and darkened bud on your breasts, “Mmnh!” You moaned delicately, arching your back with your palm flat against the desk behind you, your figure enticing and inviting him even closer. Please.

You bit your lips hard— harder than you should when Aemond engulfed the blood filled buds up to his lips, he goes gentle at first, suckling like small babe would but then he grows ferocious— “Gods!” You yelped as he bit at the hardened flesh, causing you to shiver once more, bucking your hips to try and assuage the building pressure at your cunt, now wet and weeping to be filled. Him… by him.

Aemond did not dare stopping his ministrations, one hand tugging on the other one as he continues to suckle on your nipples greedily, your nails dug through the hard material of the desk but you have naught care to it, for your brother is keeping your nerve ends alive— lit with fire and blood.

“Your purity has always been mine to corrupt, little one…” He trails as he moved to crouch down, his lips also trailing a soft kisses path down your tummy, to your navel before tugging at your dress a tad bit forcefully, as it fell to the floor below, he makes a quick move to release you of your smallclothes, wasting no time to stare intensely at your now exposed fluttery soaked cunt, “My my, Princess… look at you…” He groaned, making you mewl.

“S-stop looking at… me like that.” Your hand moved downward in a shy attempt at covering your now exposed flushed mound, which he clicked his tongue at— as if he is scolding you, and grip your wrist tightly, “You will not deprive me of seeing what is mine, sweetling…” He keeps a hold of your wrist, as you wiggle about, “Your cunt is mine, to taste, fuck…”

“Aemond…” You can no longer hold the wanton sounds originating from your bewildered state, body so flushed with heat and desire that your mind has reduced to blank fuzzy space of just him, him, him.

“Mine to own.” His other thumb move closer to your heat before pressing it softly against the throbbing bud that is your pearl, “I— ah! w-what…” Mix of confusion, thrilling pleasure, and indescribable rush flows through you when you feel the blissful pain from his fingers that had pinched your pearl, you desperately try to keep your moans and tears at bay, however, that proves to be fruitless when Aemond decided to replace his fingers with his mouth. You were done for.

“Slow down! mmnh!” You writhe in his hold, feeling his tongue slide from the fluttering of the silky entrance of your cunt and drags your sweet nectar up against your pearl, the bud thrumming in attention, relishing in the licks and suckle of his sinful lips, “Seven hells, riñītsos…” He let out an sadistic chuckle against your dripping petal, making you shudder, “You open up so beautifully… for me, tastes better than any Westerosi wine.” You clench tightly on nothing, he hummed at the sight. Little girl.

“Please please!” You begged, your body folding, grasping his silky locks on your hand, Aemond looks up at you with so much vigor as he continue working his tongue and lips on your cunt, the constant ah-ah-ah leaves your mouth, filling his ears. Aemond pushes a finger past your flushed opening, “Relax, sweetling, let me in.” He said with faux gentleness.

“I—oh!” Your peachy lips drops and your tongue lolls out at the intrusion of his index finger, curling it up as he inches in, your cunt is tight, tighter than anything— and you are not just any maiden, he thought, you are his sweet little maiden of a sister, “Syz riña.” He hummed against your nub, continuing his earlier work of suckling on your pearl as his finger eases in and out of you. Good girl.

You can only gasp and let out strings of mewls at the feeling, it’s so good, you think, so so so good— it feels better than being intoxicated in goblets of wine, it feels better than any gifts you have ever been given as a Princess of the realm, it feels better because it is given by Aemond, you concluded.

Your lips curled in pleasurable tandem, feeling your cunt clench like blooming flower around him, his lips leave you no choice but to submit to both him, and your upcoming peak. There is a strange yet powerful tugging at the base of your tummy, something about to snap— “Aemond.. I.. Gods, I think—“ You mewled desperately.

He looked up to you then, smiled and chuckled deeply, “Tis’ okay, little one, peak for me.” He urged you, mouth suckling around your peal, biting at the nub almost mockingly, combining with how the tip of his finger right on the spongy part inside you, curling them with purposeful jabs— your only response is a high pitched scream of his name followed by strings of girlish pet-like mewls as your cunt gush around his fingers.

“Good girl, my good Princess.” Aemond cooed, his tongue greedily lapping up the sweet saccharine nectar from the now fluttering oversensitive tightness of your cunt, “Mmh.. c-can’t..” You wiggle from his hold, shaking your head as your body shake with the aftershocks of your heightened pleasures— the feeling is akin to that of when you rode your dragon, Valyx, the majestic red winged creature that bonded with you.

“Shh, I know, too much hm?” Aemond hummed, releasing his finger out of you as your opening winked at him— what a petal of a slut you are, made just for him, pure and ever so decadent—“What did.. what happened, Aemond?” Oh you looked at him so so softly, demure and skittish, shy. Just like a kitten would. He suppressed the way his cock is begging for release just at the sight of your corrupted flushed face, and shivering body.

“You peaked, sweetling.” His voice deepened considerably, as does his lilac eyes, “Peaked? oh… like..” Your hands went to cover your face as you heated up, only for him to click his tongue and grip your wrist tightly, “Ah-ah, no need to be shy, little one. It felt good, didn’t it?”

“Yes but—“

“But no, Princess, from now on you should expect to feel like that from me, understand?” His voice is soft, although strained by lust and his desire to just fuck you then and there, he had to wait though, anything to make you feel more at ease with your body and the pleasure he brings to you. His innocent little sister.

“I suppose that’s okay…” You whispered timidly, which causes his heart to flutter, Gods, he will give you the fucking moon and rebuild Old Valyria from its ashes if it so pleases you, “Did you— did you do that to Floris too?” You asked, eyes are darted to anywhere but him.

He sighed, “Poppet, what are you talking about hm?” You shrugged, oh his sweet angel, always such a possessive little thing you are, knowing what you want yet restricted by your gentle nature, “I have not and shall never give that to anyone but you, my sweet, t’was a deal I myself never planned on following through.” He said, looking up at you— his eyes glinted with nothing but honesty and love for you, you’d know because of the numerous time he had lied on not being in pain after the torment he had suffered at the hands of your own brother and nephews.

“But what about Aegon, and mother?” You whispered, now looking at him, “Won’t they be furious if they knew? wouldn’t it be… treason?” The word leave an acid feeling on your tongue, it feels like you’re accusing him, Aemond knows you better than anyone else though, he knows you mean no foul— it showed you care for him.

“They can voice out their complaints to me when I am King, little one, it matters not.” Your wyes widened at his implication, excitement and thrill oddly runs through your blood at his declaration, Gods, you have no more care for formalities or ideals, not when he is here— not when this is what you can have.

“Brother…” Both of your palms come up to cusp his face, your finger gently peel the eye patch he wears— the movement has his eye fluttering, yet he bears no resentment to your action, only affection, “I want you, take me as you wish.” You are many things, hesitant in your steps— that innocence shines through most of the time, but none came when you said that, only truth and love. Solely devout to him.

Something animalistic flashes through the glint of his eyes, something feral, so driven by passionate affection, devotion, and lust—eternally for you, “As my Princess’s wish.” He muttered before standing up fully to his height, making you crane your head up to look at him. You watched as he tugs his coat and sleeves off, your eyes danced on his pale skin— his sapphire that taunts you with promise of unnerving fealty, and overwhelming dominance.

Exposing his upper body to you, your finger trail a feather light touches to his skin, a tad of your innocence apparent in the way you felt him yet you’re also teasing him with how you press on certain spots, in which he only smiled and chuckled at you—his wanton little slut wrapped in a saint goddess bodice of a Princess— admiring the way his muscles tense, the way his masculine musk penetrated your senses— so his, so so his.

Aemond then tugs his breech loose, letting it drop to the stone floor below— there he is, permeated by the sun shining through the slit of window, all in his naked glory— so enticing, your mouth waters as you gazed him fully— mouth agape, a loud gasp slipped from your mouth as your eyes focuses on the throbbing length of his cock, oh you almost cooed, he is hard—length so full with blood and tension, it looked like it was going to burst, the veins protruding on his shaft, darkened and angry, his tip is flushed a reddish color— thick and inviting, with the opening dripping with his arousal— oh how you would so easily taste him.

Your fingers swiftly went down to grasp his length, thumb about to swipe away the spend on his tip before he holds your wrist—you looked up at him like a child would, he was vastly reminded of a face you’d make as a little girl when he had taken away your lemon cakes just for fun— oh your pouty raw and bitten lips, your puffed out cheeks, your eyes that radiates want want want, silently begging him, Gods, you’d be the death of him.

“Aem—“ You whined like a spoiled little brat you are, oh he’d have so much fun taming the living soul out of you, later though, he thought, “You will get your taste later, little one—“

“But!” You and your stubbornness, he thought, oh but he’ll relinquish in the joy and thrill to break you fully— mould you just for him, “Ah ah no, behave, sweetling. Pouty mannered little girls will not get anything other than denied of their peaks, you do not wish for that, do you? hm?” Your spine shivered at the tone he used, so mocking, making you so small, especially with his fingers on your wrist and the other on your chin— scolding a child—yet the only sound that escaped your pouty lips are soft desperate mewl and whine.

You are so fucking sweet, he was ready to come then and there.

“N-no Aemond… I will be good for you.” You whispered, eyes glassy, lips trembling, he breathes heavily, “Oh sweet dove, shh you will get what you want.” He hummed, moving his fingers to gently run through your luscious silver hair, lips leaving an oh so sweet peck to the crown of your head.

When you nod to his words, he leaned in to kiss you ferociously, his palm move to your hips, bringing you to the edge of the desk as your tongue dances in a fiery battle— well less of a battle when you consider that he dominates you— “Uh!” You moaned as his thick shaft touches the soft pulsing wet folds of your cunt, you’re incredibly soaking the table beneath you by now.

Aemond groaned at the way your cunt is opening up to him, fluttering around the very top of his tip as if inviting— daring him to just slide in, though he restrains himself because this is your first time, he will go gentle, there’re plenty of times to break you later, he mused. “Syz, riñītsos.” Aemond purred deeply, “Ready?” He sweetly gaze down at you and your quivering form, pressing a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose. Good, little girl.

“Mhm.” You nodded, voice naught but a small whimper, one of Aemond’s palm reach down to grasp yours in his, intertwining your fingers to his— his other hand grip the base of his throbbing length—You let out a loud gasp as you feel him breaching your wet entrance with a swift motion, the tip is in and you cried.

“I-it hurts…” Tears dropped down from your eyes, “Shh, doing so well for me, sweetling.” Aemond cooed gently at you, holding him back from indulging in the feeling of your unimaginably tight tight tight warm wet flowery cunt grasping the tip of his cock— Gods has to reward him for his resilience for he can wait little longed than to come right then and there, you’re intoxicating, too sweet for him and way too fucking tight.

The Prince kissed your lips gently, lovingly as if to ground both you and him, the softness of his lips bringing you back to earth slightly— but mayhaps it was to distract you for what comes next, you wailed loudly as he pushed in more of his length, your cheeks now drenched with tears, chest heaving, and cunt clenching around him ever so torturously, both of your fluids mixing below you, feeling the wetness help him to push in yet more inches, filling you to the brim.

“Full Aem… so full, too big…” You truly ought to send him to an early grave, he thought, “You can take it, my sweet girl taking her brother’s cock like the perfect girl she is.” Aemond cooed against your ear, the praises consuming you whole, the pain from your core gradually subsides as you feel him waiting— you heart warmed at the gesture— he’s waiting for you to be comfortable.

“Please… please continue.” You whimpered, craning your head backwards as he pressed his thumb against your swollen pearl to relieve the pain, “I-ah! fuck me, Aemond.” Your comment might’ve been brazen but he doesn’t miss the way your body shivered at your eyes drooped, lips curled just as you did whenever you revert back to your girlish demure self. Oh his sweet little girl, being brave just for him, his little dragon.

He shushes you all at once, both palms on the either side of your hips as he slowly experimenting by moving his hips backward so that only half of his length is inside of your tight haven, before thrusting back in, deep deep deeply, you both moaned loudly at that, the feeling of his cock in and out, in and out, in and out of you is heightened— you can feel his veins against your walls, clenching tightly— holding him in a vice grip.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” Aemond grunted, his hips faltering a bit but keeping a nice steady pace as you mewl, cunt gushing his cock with the pain now dulled and replaced by pure white pleasure, you swear you can feel your ear rings, “Perfect little cunt for a perfect little girl.”

“For you! ah!” The plethora of moans and whiny gasps that left your lips has his head spinning, “Gods made you for me, to be mine.” He possessively growled, increasing the pace of his thrusts as he leaned down to capture the sensitive part of your skin just below your ear and leave a reddish purplish mark.

You can do naught but to take the way he thrusts thrusts thrusts in and out of you, his curved tip always hitting that spongy spot inside you, making you dizzy and drunk— cockdrunk and dumb on him, your lips agape as he continue to nibble marks on your skin, you could care less on how you will conceal that later, too wrapped up in bliss of his grunts and the feeling of his cock inside of you.

“One day you will bear me an—fuck! heir, you hear me little girl?” His thrusts are borderline mean now, hips rutting inside you as if you’re his drug and he cannot deprive himself from your sweet intoxicating cunt, “Yes! Gods yes! as many as you want.”

The sound of the skin slapping inside the room will for sure frighten anyone, especially guards outside the door, but you had hoped that mayhaps someone from the council might able to hear, so that they know Aemond is irrevocably yours— and so that they know you will bear his babes, heirs— none of that arranged marriages for political gains, just you and him, thrumming with the strong bond of Old Valyria, the dragon’s blood danced and merged.

Aemond pulled away from your neck as he looked at you with eye full of love love love, lust lust lust, and adoration, like he would worship the ground you walked upon, and even you knew he would if you asked. At one of your loud mewl, he bring his thumb to rub harsh circles on your pearl making you grip him as you soak him and your thighs even more.

“Mmh Aemond…”

“I know, close aren’t you, Princess?” He taunts you, all the while you do not have the strength anymore to care, for you are so so so close to reaching your peak, utterly desperate for it, “Uh huh, please please please.” Oh you sweet sweet dove, begging him like that, how can he ever refuse you? his beautiful little sister? he might be mean but not so mean to deny you of your peak.

“Shh, little one, I know what you need, you trust me don’t you?” His tone is sickly sweet, mocking and genuine at the same time— your mind having been too fuzzy to comprehend it only let out a muffled whimper, “Mmhm..” He laughed at that, finding you so unbearably cute, just his little dragon wanting to come so bad, it makes him wanna fuck his seed into you more.

“C’mon my sweet, i know you can do it.” He urged you, all of it— the hot breath against your skin, the nibbling, the way he circled your pearl so sinfully, the way his cock impaled you open— all of it is just too much, addictive. “Peak for me like the good little whore you are, hm?” His voice is rough, hips faltering in his pace— obviously holding himself back from releasing into your womb.

“Nnmh, not a- not a whore.” You hiccuped in a high pitch, oh his sweet little girl, he chuckled at you— looking at your pathetic teary eye, cheeks drained— as drained as your cunt is soaking his length, “My little princess, the purest of maidens, the finest of whores, mine, nobody else’s.”

“I- ah ah ah! Aemond!” You clenched your cunt so tight around him as something snap inside of you, the dam broke and once more you can feel yourself hitting that plethora of pleasures— brain fuzzy, only Aemond, only him him him. You peaked— body trashing, and flushed all over for you are unable to control the movement of your limbs and muscles anymore— too drunk on his cock.

“Good girl, shit, my good fucking girl.” Aemond cooed but the harshness of his voice indicates that he, too, is close, “Gonna come too now hm? want that little one? my seed inside you?”

“Yes yes yes, uh huh, give it to me please.” You begged him so sweetly, how can he refuse? after all you’re his little sister, his Princess, he never gave you less than what you deserve, even that one time when you asked to take the remaining berry tart that he wanted so bad yet he let you have it, or that one time you begged him to show you the tunnels inside the paintings, the one that holds Balerion’s skull knowing he’d have to evade Ser Cole, or that last time you asked him to kiss you before he went to Storms-end, anything for you. Everything for his Queen.

“Fuck! Gods you’re perfect, going to make you my fucking wife, I swear it.” He possessively muttered, or more like babbling now— too obsessed with the way you hug him so tight like he’d disappear, or the way your cunt clutch him in a come come come motion. “Give it t’me.” You pleaded, voice so soft it makes his head heady— He simply can’t resist you, “Seven fucking hells.”

Aemond shuddered as he released his spend inside of you, the tip of his cock right against the opening of your cervix, enough to make itself known but not enough to hurt you, never to hurt you, not when it does not bring you pleasure. “Thank you thank you thank you…” Your voice is barely a whimper now, your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth parted with your lips lolling out. Sight to behold indeed.

“Shh good girl, my good little girl.” He hummed against you, looking at you with adoration as he slides out slowly— you whined at the loss, already accustomed to being stretched by him, he shushes you one more time as he hold you— seems like you’re a bit gone inside your fuzzy little head.

“My little dragon, so good for me, hm?” He cooed at you, one hand holding you close to him, as his other palm cups your cheek, rocking you slightly, “Come back to me, little one, c’mon, I’m right here.” He whispered, grounding you back down as you hiccuped slowly.

“Aem…” Your voice is barely there but its there, it’s you, and Aemond smiled knowing you are alright, “Here, Princess, did so good f’r me.” He kisses all over your face, making soft pecking noises that has you giggling softly and make an attempt on nudging him away, “Stop.” You whined adorably like a little cat, which he laughed at, “There’s my girl.”

By the way you smiled and blinked at him, he just know that he would give you all 7 realms if you asked, make you his Queen, and demolish all your enemies, so that you shall rule with him— as it always meant to be. The dragons that lived through the dance.

[daisymbin]

look at me! - choi seungcheol

warnings: alcohol, mild menace jeonghan

pairing: seungcheol x reader

genre: friends to lovers, drunken confession

wc: 2.5k

a/n: i've decided to do a drunken confession series for seventeen sooooo let's start with cheol!

read part2 here!

drunken confessions masterlist

check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list

“oh my god he's lost his fucking mind….” seungkwan mumbles to no one but himself. your panic ridden voice rang over the loud music blasting from the tons and dozens of speakers littered in each and every corner of this club. “ya! choi seungcheol! what are you doing standing on that table! get down here!”

jeonghan steps right next to you as he whips out his phone to start recording his friend, “dont stop him now! this is just getting good! he's standing on a table in a club, throwing a fucking drunken tantrum! this is 100% blackmail material, please.”

“are you out of your mind? he's on a table, DRUNK jeonghan! he's gonna hurt himself!” you shouted over the loud music.

“choi seungcheol did you not hear me? get down here!” now your anger and anxiety has reached new heights, how did he even get up there? “choi seungcheol? why are you calling me by my full name? & no! i wont get down!” seungcheol retorted back firmly, his arms akimbo as he stomped his left foot on the table, “not until you stop dancing with random dudes & start paying attention to me! what about me? why don’t you ever look at me?” the sight of his furrowed eyebrows and pouted lips are all too familiar to you, if it isn't the signature choi seungcheol look.

“what the hell are you talking about? I do look at you! I look at you a lot.” you whispered that last part to no one but yourself only.

“you don't look at me the way I look at you!”

giggles. you heard giggles….from your left. yoon jeonghan… “& now im about to have even more embarrassing blackmail material. sweet future mrs choi, what would I ever do without you & all this blackmail material that you've presented me the opportunity of having?” you rolled your eyes & shake your head disapprovingly, too tired to argue with him.

this time, its seungcheol who is giggling, clearly enjoying the choice of words jeonghan used, “future mrs. choi, huh?" seungcheol wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively, making you glare in his direction as you let out a heavy sigh.

you continue keeping your eyes on seungcheol, who's now swaying dangerously on the table. his eyes are glossy, yet somehow focused on you, and your heart does an unsettling flip. his words; slurred and loud, echoing in your head.

“cheol-ah, please get down!” you plead, stepping closer. “you’re going to fall and break your neck!” maybe breaking his neck was an over exaggerating but stil…

your words only seem to frustrate seungcheol even more as he shakes his head, stumbling a little as he shifts his weight, his previous playful demeanor vanishing, “not until… until you… you tell me why!” his voice cracks, frustration dripping from his tone & his eyes threatening to spill tears. “why don’t you see me?”

your breath catches in your throat as you realise, he’s serious. despite the alcohol coursing through his system, this isn’t a joke or just another tantrum. the raw vulnerability in his voice, the weight of the question, hits you harder than the loud bass of the music.

“I do see you,” you mutter under your breath, unsure if he can even hear you through the blaring music and his drunken haze.

seungcheol wobbles on his feet again, his balance precarious. panic seizes your chest. you’re torn between your worry for his safety and the confusion over what he’s saying. why is he suddenly acting like this?

almost as if he could read your mind, seungcheol answers you unknowingly, “I don’t want to just be your friend,” he blurts out suddenly, his voice almost drowned by the music but not enough for you to miss it. “I can’t- i love you…I love you…” he says as he drops his head & fidgets his fingers.

there it is. the confession that shatters the space between you, that suddenly turns the wild, chaotic night into something much heavier. jeonghan, who was still recording, lets out a low whistle.

“well, damn,” he mutters.

your eyes widen at his confession, frozen on the spot as seungcheol stands there, his breathing uneven, chest rising and falling with the weight of his admission. everything else in the club; the music, the people, the lights…it all feels like it fades into the background. It's just you and him.

“cheol-ah..” you start, but the words die in your throat as he stumbles forward again, nearly toppling off the table.

“shit!” you and jeonghan rush to catch him before he takes a nasty fall.

you and jeonghan both rush forward, arms outstretched just as seungcheol loses his balance. you barely manage to catch him, his weight collapsing onto you. his strong frame nearly knocks the breath out of your lungs, and it takes all your strength just to keep him upright.

"seungcheol-ah!" you grunt, trying to steady him as his head lolls against your shoulder. he's mumbling incoherently now, his earlier bravado disappearing into drunken exhaustion.

jeonghan, on the other hand, is laughing so hard he has to clutch his stomach. "oh this is gold," he wheezes, quickly tucking his phone away to help you with seungcheol. "guess we should probably get him out of here before he does something even more embarrassing, huh?"

you nod wordlessly, the weight of seungcheol’s confession still hanging heavy between you. you can feel your heart pounding in your chest, but your mind is scrambling to make sense of everything.

“I love you….I love you…”

his words loop in your head, over and over, louder than the music around you. How long had he been feeling this way? how long had you been blind to it?

jeonghan helps you guide seungcheol towards the exit, his drunken body leaning heavily into yours. “careful, future mrs. choi.” jeonghan teases again, though there’s a hint of softness in his voice now. jeonghan is so not gonna let you live this down, you thought to yourself as you look back at the drunken boy.

you shot jeonghan a look, not quite in the mood for more of his jokes. "not helping, jeonghan."

as you make your way outside, the cool night air hits seungcheol’s face, and he groans, blinking slowly as he tries to make sense of his surroundings. he glances up at you, his eyes a little clearer now but very much still hazy from the alcohol.

"why did you dance with them?" he murmurs softly, the hurt still lingering in his voice. his hand grabs weakly at your arm, as if afraid you'll slip away. "you never look at me…you never look my way…you've never looked at me like that….”your chest tightens again, and for a moment, you can’t find your voice. you didn’t think your casual dancing would mean anything to him.

jeonghan, sensing the shift, gives you both a gentle nudge toward the car. "come on, let’s get him home before he passes out right here."

as you help seungcheol into the backseat, your mind is racing. you sit beside him in the car, his head resting on your shoulder as he starts to drift into a state between dozing off & trying to stay awake. his hand, still loosely holding onto yours, sending a blast of warmth through your body. jeonghan drives in silence, glancing at you occasionally through the rearview mirror, as if waiting to see what you'll do next.

silence envelops the car as you think back on seungcheol's words, they twists in your chest because that couldn’t be further from the truth. you look at him all the time, just never long enough for him to catch you. you can’t bear to.

seungcheol’s hand is still holding yours, his body heavy against your own, “I always look at you,” you mutter under your breath in a soft sigh, though it’s meant for no one but yourself. jeonghan catches it though, he glances at you, eyebrows raised, but doesn’t comment.

seungcheol's alcohol ridden voice only stabs at your heart, because it only makes him sound even more….sad. he leans his head further into your shoulder, his voice quieter now but no less insistent. "you don’t look at me," he slurs, his fingers gripping your arm a little tighter, as if trying to make you understand. "not like you look at them…"

your chest tightens once again, his words hitting you hard. he doesn’t know, does he? he’s never realized that you don’t look at him because it hurts too much, because every time you catch his eye, the feelings you’ve been burying inside of you for so long threaten to spill over.

“I do look at you,” you say, louder this time, though your voice still wavers. you glance over at jeonghan, who’s watching you both intently now through the rearview mirror, jeonghan thinks to himself: do they not realise we’ve reached?

seungcheol pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression muddled by alcohol but the hurt still there, clear as day. “you don’t,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “you never do…I would have known if you did…I'm always looking at you…”

your heart aches at the sight of him; his pouted lips which you've always found so adorable now looks so vulnerable and raw, and suddenly the weight of all the years you’ve spent hiding your feelings feels suffocating. you’ve loved him for so long, much longer than you’d care to admit but you were always too scared to let it show, too scared that if you looked at him the way you wanted to, he’d see it and never feel the same.

“I don’t look at you because I can’t,” you finally admit, the words spilling out before you can stop them. you bite the back of your lower lip, fighting back the lump in your throat. “every time I look at you, it hurts. It hurts because I-” you stop yourself, your hands trembling as you try to steady yourself.

seungcheol blinks slowly in confusion, trying to process what you’re saying. “hurts? why would it…?” his voice trails off, and for a split second, it’s like the pieces are clicking into place in his foggy mind.

you shake your head, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “i’ve always looked at you, seungcheol. but i couldn’t let you see me do it. not the way i wanted to.”

for a moment, everything stands still. the low hum of the engine, the aircon blasting, the soft music from the car radio, they seem to go silent, the world outside seems to blur, and all that exists is the space between you and him. you can see the confusion in his eyes slowly being replaced by something else, something softer; more vulnerable & fragile. hope, perhaps?

he leans in closer, his forehead almost resting against yours yet not touching, his breath warm on your skin. “then why?” he whispers, his voice barely audible, “why didn’t you just… tell me?”

you swallow hard, your throat tightening as you try to find the right words. “because I didn’t think you felt the same,” you say, your voice shaky. “and now i-”

seungcheol’s hand reaches up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he cuts you off. “i’ve been waiting for you to look at me,” he murmurs, his voice suddenly clearer, more sober. “i’ve been waiting for so long.”

your heart skips a beat at his touch, the tenderness in his eyes almost too much to bear. you feel the warmth of his hand against your skin, and it makes you realize just how long you’ve wanted this; wanted him.

jeonghan clears his throat from behind you, his voice breaking the moment. “as much as I love this dramatic confession, we really should get him inside before he passes out for real, plus im tired.” he says with a smirk, though there’s a softness in his tone now. he knows what this moment means.

jeonghan gives a small, knowing smile but keeps quiet & doesn't move still. for once, he doesn’t crack a joke, and you’re grateful for that. you’re not sure how to process everything yet, and the last thing you need is his usual teasing.

seungcheol stirs slightly, his fingers twitching in yours. His head tilts upward, eyes fluttering open, still clouded with drunkenness but more aware than before. “are you…still here?” he mumbles, his voice thick with exhaustion.

“I’m here,” you say softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere.”

he lets out a small, relieved sigh, shifting closer as if seeking more of your warmth. “good,” he mutters, his voice barely a whisper. “don’t leave me.”

your heart leaps at his words. you’ve always been by his side but now, the meaning behind them feels so much heavier. you wonder how long he’s been carrying these feelings, thinking you didn’t care, while you were hiding your own all along.

“alright, lovebirds, let’s get you both inside.” jeonghan says as he shatters the quiet.

you help jeonghan guide seungcheol out of the car, his arm draped over your shoulder again as you half-carry him toward the door. he mumbles something incoherent, his head dipping low against your neck, and you feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at the close proximity.

inside, you carefully lead him to his bed, helping him lie down. his grip on your hand loosens but doesn’t let go entirely, even as his body sinks into the mattress. you sit down beside him, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his face, your heart still pounding in your chest.

as you pull the blanket up over him, seungcheol’s eyes crack open again, just barely. his voice is soft, almost too quiet to hear, but the words make your breath catch. “I meant what I said…earlier,” he whispers, his gaze searching yours, even in his drowsy state. “I love you…”

you swallow hard, your throat tightening as the weight of his confession presses down on you again. you don’t know what to say, your mind swirling with everything you’ve kept hidden for so long.

but instead of words, you lean down and press a soft kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering for a moment. “we’ll talk about this when you’re sober,” you say, your voice trembling with emotion. “but I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

seungcheol smiles faintly, his hand finally releasing yours as he drifts off to sleep, his breathing deep and steady. you sit there for a while, watching him, your heart full of everything left unsaid.

and for the first time in a forever, you don’t look away.

[mariasont]

Office Sleepover 3 - A.H

a/n: yeehaw this took me way longer than i thought but here she be

i feel like im so ass at writing smut so just bear with me yall

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

part one here! part two here!

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which reader gets put on a hit-list and has to stay in the office (kind of based off when penelope got put on a hit-list by the dirty dozen)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, hungover reader, unwanted attention from some rando, awk as fuck reader, fingering, dirty talk, doing the dirty in the office, definitely illegal, definitely probably caught on cameras

wc: 4.2k

Everything hurt--your stomach churned, your head throbbed, and your eyes burned. You squeezed them shut, feeling your body tense against the stiff fabric of the pull-out couch. Fists curled tightly, you gradually let your eyelids part, casting a slow, sweeping glance around the room, trying to piece together what the hell happened.

Pain hammered around the inside of your head. You desperately needed a hefty dose of Advil--ten at least. As though your mind had materialized them, you rolled over to discover a bottle and a glass of water on the nightstand. You assumed you had JJ to thank, though the certainty of that was as fuzzy as your thoughts. Each effort to reconstruct last night's events was a stab to your already excruciating migraine.

You had all your clothes on, that was a plus considering your notorious history with wine and stripping. Stripping. Your hand slapped over your mouth, a floodgate of recollections bursting through--calling Hotch in a wine-induced haze, flashing your tits, asking him to stay.

You were in full-blown panic mode, the sudden urge to throw up clawing at your throat. The bed was empty, save for yourself, but you vividly remember Hotch laying down with you. This only left two possibilities: he left after you fell asleep or it had been a figment of your imagination. You were desperately hoping it was the latter.

But clearly, the universe had its own plan, because there he was, leaning against the door frame, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a paper bag that, by the smell of it, contained greasy food.

With a throat like sandpaper and sweaty palms, you met your boss's gaze. "Hotch," you croaked, pausing to swallow. "Um, good morning--or is it? My sleep schedule's always off after drinking. It feels bright in here, right? It's also kinda hot, is the AC working?"

You impulsively rose from the bed, a decision you instantly regretted as the room seemed to spin around you in protest.

"Sit down," he commanded, a firmness in his voice that brooked no opposition, and you promptly sat your ass back down, watching him with an expectant look.

You attempted to read his face, but it was a blank slate, making you that much more nervous. He must hate you, you figured, because you certainly hated yourself. Your boss had seen your nipples. A wave of heat washed over you, and you clenched your eyes shut, as if that could make this situation disappear.

"Here," he said, handing you the coffee and the bag, then gesturing to the Advil on the counter. "Take that, and I know you might not feel like eating, but it's necessary. The food and coffee will stabilize your blood sugar levels."

"Right, yeah, course," you nod, accepting the items with shaky hands, holding the cup with a grip that's a little too firm. "Listen, sir, I'm really sorry about last night. I promise I don't usually drink that much. I don't even know how I got that drunk, and I know I acted completely inappropriate towards you. If you need to file a complaint, I understand. Again, I'm just so sorry..."

You wanted to cry, but you held it back, knowing it would only make this whole situation worse. You deliberately avoided his eyes, focusing on anything but him while you absentmindedly toyed with the breakfast sandwich in your hands.

After a moment, he releases a soft sigh, the mattress sinking slightly as he settled beside you, his knee gently knocking yours.

"I'm aware this week's been tough on you. It's, uh, clear you weren't thinking straight, and I'm not about to make a formal issue out of a slip-up."

Your head dipped, as you tried to fend off the rising warmth in your face. "I don't think I can ever look you in the eyes again."

"That feels dramatic," he pointed out, a chuckle in his voice that made you glance his way. "Trust me, it's already forgotten."

That was a lie. He may have lacked Reid's eidetic abilities, but there was no possible, imaginative way that he would forget the image of you topless--it was imprinted in his memory. In fact, it had become the sole focus of his thoughts ever since. He silently thanked the gods that it was a Saturday, and he didn't have any pressing work issues.

"Somehow, that's not very comforting," you replied, a suppressed giggle breaking through as you met his gaze. "So, did you, um, end up staying over?"

Your cheeks glowed with a soft pink, hands unconsciously smoothing over your thighs--a nervous habit of yours he had quickly taken notice of. It emerged involuntarily when you faced tough cases, or when your computer took too long to start up, or even when the elevator made an unexpected noise.

"I did," he admitted, "You shouldn't have been alone."

Your whole body felt like it was on fire, and you were weirdly frustrated that you couldn't recall being the same bed as him, being able to feel his body against yours. You bet he was warm, and soft, and large against you.

"Thank you."

His phone went off. "Hotchner."

Your eyes followed his movements, noting the firm nods, watching as he stood, his expression hardening, jaw tightening, and hand coming to rest on his chin as he faced away from you.

The phone call was brief, and he quickly turned his attention back to you. "We've got a case."

And it was quite the case--three male victims, all in their forties. Each crime scene was close to Quantico, about twenty minutes, sparing the team any extensive travel. Though, after last night, you don't think you would have minded if they had been halfway across the country.

You were really banking on Hotch's ability to keep things professional, knowing full well that if Morgan caught wind of this, you'd be better off dead.

The team was huddled around the briefing table, absorbing Garcia's detailed rundown of the killings--they were violent to say the least--with heads bashed in and over twenty stab wounds per victim. Whoever was doing this was angry.

Hotch eventually split everyone up into tasks—Spencer and Morgan to the crime scenes, JJ and Emily interviewing the families, and Rossi was tasked with convening with the local police force. So, you know who that left at the office? You, Hotch, and Penelope. What a great group.

You avoided both of them, a pattern that had become all too familiar you had realized. Hunched over your desk, you were engrossed in sending Spencer images of your latest research on the town. True to form, he responded--Can you just fax that over to the police station?--because god forbid, he has to read it from his phone.

So, there you were, barely resisting the urge to slam your head into the fax machine. You wouldn't consider yourself technology impaired, but to say you were on friendly terms would be overstating it.

"Need help?"

"Oh, yes, please—," you began, but your voice trailed off as you noticed one of the guys from forensics hovering just a tad too close for comfort.

"They're always a bit stubborn," he noted, barely giving you space to breathe before his shoulder nudged against yours as he fiddled with the device, "just a slight...there we go."

The machine sprang into action, prompting you to step back and acknowledge his help with a nod. "Oh, thanks."

"Not a problem," he assured, stepping closer in the process, his fingers lightly brushing your thigh as he pointed out the correct button. "You see, it's all about timing," he added, his voice low and unnecessarily close, "these things can be so fussy, right?"

A subtle nod was your only response, hoping he'd take the hint that you weren't in the mood for small talk. The hangover clung stubbornly, and the whiff of his breath was a cruel taunt against the fragile peace you were maintaining over your stomach.

"So, do you find this kind of tech stuff challenging?" he asked, a little too casually. The question hung awkwardly in the air. You sought to put some distance between you, yet he matched your every move, keeping the space closed. "I mean, I'm pretty good with my hands, not just with machines honestly."

Ew.

You mustered a smile, though you were sure it was more of a grimace. The room felt smaller, the walls inching closer. "I usually manage," you responded, the strain evident in your voice.

He leaned closer, if that was possible, it was like the concept of personal space was foreign to him. "Maybe I can show you a few tricks, help you manage a little better?"

His words were light, but his proximity was anything but, almost suffocating.

Just as you were firmly about to tell him to shove it, a sharp voice beat you to it--probably for the best.

"That won't be necessary."

The forensics guy, whose name you still hadn't gotten, straightened, his smile faltering under the weight of Hotch's piercing, don't fuck with me, stare. A look usually saved for unsubs and incompetent officers, but now it singled out this man.

The same look remained on the poor guy as he directed his words to you, "why don't you join me? We need to go over some case details."

It really wasn't a question.

The man backed up instantly, mumbling something under his breath about just trying to help, but Hotch's glare followed him until he was well out of earshot.

Surprisingly, a similar sharpness was aimed at you as soon as he opened his mouth. "I'd appreciate it if you chose to flirt on your own time, not the Bureau's."

His words landed with the sting of an unexpected slap. You blinked, taken aback. "What? I wasn't--,"

But he didn't allow you time to finish. Instead, he pushed a water bottle in your hands, his eyes scrutinizing your face with such an intensity that you wished the floor would swallow you whole. "Drink. You look pale."

"Gee, thanks," you grumbled, under your breath, more to yourself than him, as he wheeled around and headed briskly for the briefing room.

Your steps lagged slightly behind him, your forehead lined with a thoughtful frown. What was that about? The way he acted--the tightness that had formed around his mouth and the harshness in his words, it was so unlike him, well, at least for it to be directed at you.

The rest of the day unfolded just as you thought it would upon waking--like shit. Hotch kept his distance, his exchanges with you brief and to the point. Every time you tried to grab his attention, hoping to clarify things (why you felt the need you weren't sure), he was already looking else, focused on literally anything but you.

It was painfully evident that he was avoiding any personal conversation with you, a realization that bit deeper than anticipated.

The office slowly emptied, the case binding you and Hotch to the briefing room, the only sounds being the faint gentle tapping of your pen and the occasional snap of your hair tie.

It was late when you finally spoke. "Hotch, this says the victim had fibers under his nails that don't match anything from the suspect's home."

Hotch's gaze snapped up to yours. "Are you saying you think the forensics team missed that?"

You met his eyes squarely, cocking your head to the side at the tone of his voice. "I'm not saying anything. I'm just pointing something out."

He bridged the space between you, his jaw set in a firm line. You could feel the warmth spreading across your cheeks as the distance dwindled.

"I'm just saying I don't want you jumping to conclusions based on underdeveloped theories."

You met his eyes with a glare, your teeth grinding together in the process. "Underdeveloped? Is that how you see my contributions now?"

The space between you had now vanished, your heart racing, finger almost poking into his chest as you spoke.

Hotch settled back against the wall, arms folded across his chest, giving you a pointed look. "I didn't say that," he replied, his voice level, markedly different from your agitated one. "We just can't afford to investigate every insignificant detail."

"Every insignificant detail?" you scoffed, "these are leads, Hotch."

His shoulders lift in an indifferent shrug that made you want to wrap your hands around his throat, and not in the good way. "Maybe. However, we need to be sure before we pursue it."

Drawing in a controlled breath, you fought to stay calm, but he was making it very hard. The sensation was all too reminiscent of college, contending with the overconfident frat boys just to voice your thoughts. That comparison may have been a tad extreme--Hotch was far from being like those insufferable boys, but he was certainly pushing your limits right now.

"I am sure. Why aren't you listening."

"I am listening," he said, but his voice was distant. "I just... I just don't want to get sidetracked, that's all."

"Sidetracked? By what, exactly?"

"I'm just not sure you're all here right now."

You felt your cheeks warming with a tinge of shame, but you pushed back, fists clenched at your sides. "I'm here, Hotch. I'm focused."

"Because last night—,"

"Last night was a mistake, okay? I got it. I already apologized for that. But I'm not irresponsible, my focus is on this case."

A lengthy pause followed, his expression unreadable. "You're certain about that?"

"Yes, I'm certain," you snapped, moving towards him again. "And for the record, JJ said you were okay with us having a few drinks."

"I was," he admitted. "But I didn't think—,"

You didn't let him finish. "What, that I'd get wasted? That I'd do something stupid? I'm sorry I'm not perfect."

"Well, yeah."

"Screw you, Hotch."

You knew that was a mistake the minute his nostrils flared, his chest now a pressing force against yours.

Then, without warning, his lips crashed into yours. A muffled oomph of surprise left you, your hands hanging motionless at first, only to quickly melt, grasping at his jacket, pulling him into you.

It wasn't a gentle kiss, nor was it kind, but it was magic, exceeding anything you could have imagined, setting every fiber of you on fire. His lips pressed against yours with an intensity that drew out a breathy sigh, arousal tingling through you, and your passion rose to meet his, equally hungry, equally desperate.

Your fantasies had never done him justice--kissing him was intoxicating, and now you could feel yourself getting lost in the sensation, realizing it was everything you never dared to hope for.

Drawing back just enough, his hands drew you closer, pressing against the dip of your back, his breath fusing with yours in a dizzying blend, making the air seem scarce.

Against the soft pressure of his lips, you murmured, "I wasn't flirting."

There's a pause as his eyes locked on yours, searching, questioning. Then, his hand settled at the side of your neck. "You better not have been."

Any witty comeback you had dissipated as his lips crashed against yours again, more urgently this time, his hands tracing every contour of your clothed body with an insatiable curiosity.

His grip tightened around your waist, effortlessly lifting you onto the briefing table's cold surface with a resounding thud, his palms then cradling your thighs. Documents and files fluttered beneath you, hopefully they weren't too important. His eyes, dark pools of brown, were meticulously scanning your face.

"You," he breathes out, his voice a low rumble laced with something you couldn't quite place, "have consumed my thoughts since the moment I discovered you on my couch." He inches closer, his breath scorching your cheek as his fingers waltzed a pattern up your thighs. "Do you understand that feeling? The intense frustration?"

You were rendered motionless, frozen in place, scared to even twitch and risk this all being a very realistic wet dream. This was Hotch, your boss, the man defined by his lack of outward emotion. To think that you--of all people--could have an effect on him was an overwhelming concept. The room seemed to tilt on its axis as he gently guided your legs apart, positioning himself between them.

"Y-Yeah, I know," you uttered unevenly, your thoughts scattering as your hands tentatively reached for his collar.

"So, you know what it's like, huh?"

Your nod was subtle, a flustered smile briefly lighting up your expressions.

"And?" he prompts, while his fingers explore the shape of your thighs, squeezing gently.

You squirm under his gaze, the intensity of it making your heart race inside your chest.

"And... it's annoying," you confess, puffing out a breath, trying sound annoyed, but the delicate blush dusting your nose gave you away, you were sure.

"Annoying?" Hotch repeats, his hand tenderly angling your face upward, his smile laced with a taunt. "Is that all?"

You rolled your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "It's distracting," your voice was softer now, desire pooling in your belly as you grasp just how compromising of a position you were in.

"Distracting," he tsked, echoing you once again as he nodded solemnly, pulling your hips into his. Your mouth parted in an 'o' of surprise, your gaze lifting to meet his. "Have I been the subject of your thoughts, then?"

Your head dipped in a nod, your fingers brushing against his firm chest, a soft blush coloring your cheeks. "Maybe a little, in a totally platonic boss-employee type of way."

"Oh yeah?"

You caught your lip between your teeth, considering your next words very carefully. "Well, maybe more than a little, and maybe more than just a boss."

"Oh, wow," his breath was a warm hover over your lips, hanging in the space between you. You ached for the tase of him again, rich with dark expresso and spiced cinnamon. It was a lovely combination. "Sounds serious."

You released a hushed giggle, a light note floating between you as your foreheads met. "It's not like I can help it."

"And why is that?"

"Because," you paused, wetting your lips in anticipation, "you're infuriatingly unforgettable, that's why."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You would."

He was kissing you again. This time a little softer, unhurried, and the whole reason for your argument faded into nothingness. Although if insubordination led to this sweet consequence, it might just become a habit.

His lips traced a path down your throat, prompting your head to tilt back, baring the expanse of your skin to his exploration. Your legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him impossibly close. The world seemed distant, the sensation dreamlike, buoyed by the soft lull of a lust-induced haze.

Reason gave way to impulse; your hands lost in the softness of his hair, your back arching to his hands grasping at your ass, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection.

His hands hesitated, hovering as he reached for your top, his eyes holding yours. "Is this okay?"

You nodded, more eagerly than necessary, but that still wasn't good enough for him.

"I need a verbal yes or no."

Desperation clung to you, a needy sigh escaping you as you squirmed into his touch, his hands halting your restless movements. "Yes, please, Hotch."

"You were so eager to call me Aaron last night. Say it again."

"Aaron, please, I need you to touch me," your voice rang out, imbued with such sweetness making his length constrict against the fabric of his slacks.

His fingers deftly navigated to the hem of your shirt, sliding it over your head with a fluid motion. Your bra was next, its clasp yielding effortlessly to his touch, your tits releasing with a gentle bounce, and he fought back a groan as his large hands enveloped them.

"Every bit as perfect as I remembered," he said, his fingers skillfully pulling and twisting at the nubs as you brought you forehead to meet his, a breathy gasp tumbling from your lips at the contact.

You arched your back into his heads as he let out a soft chuckle, loving the way your body reacting to him. Your eyes held a glazed-over look, lips parted ever so slightly, and you looked up at him expectantly in way that could surely kill him. 

His hands moved slowly down your sides before brushing the sensitive skin under your waist band. You swallowed a gasp, moving your hips into his again, rolling yourself against his stiff erection.

His palms pressed against your hips. "Slow down. Let me take my time with you, yeah?"

You were at his discretion; he could ask you to jump into oncoming traffic right now and you'd probably say yes.

A nod was all you could manage as you fought the urge to move, every muscle tensed, waiting for him to make the first move, but god was it hard. You couldn't really believe this was happening, until the solid press of his thumb against your clit brought the moment into sharp focus. 

"Aaron, god," you gasped, your hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. Your teeth found your bottom lip harshly, trying not to show him just how easily you could come apart right now.

"Is that good, honey?"

Honey. You could practically feel the arousal dripping your thighs as you nodded eagerly.

The pad of his thumb glided between your folds, gathering the slickness to continue his assault against your swollen clit. You buried your face deeper into his suit jacket, attempting to stifle the embarrassing sounds that you couldn't seem to contain. 

A whine of protest filled the space between you as his hand slipped away from your pants. His eyes bore into you as he gathered the strands at the back of your neck, guiding your gaze to yours. 

"None of that. Let me hear you gorgeous."

"Aaron, please, I need your fingers inside me, please."

You were painfully aware of how ridiculous you sounded, knew that if anyone else was in the office right now, you'd be so screwed, fired probably, but as his fingers dipped into your cunt those concerns dissolved quickly.

"Since you asked so nicely."

He was torturing you--his pace aggravatingly slow, working in and out of you as you tried to fight the overwhelming desire to slam your legs shut. It was so much, yet not enough. You ground yourself against his hands as his other hand clamped around your back, keeping you from falling back.

"That's it, baby, fuck yourself on my fingers."

His eyes were dark, pupils dilated, his chest rising and falling in a way that only seemed to spur you on, doing exactly as he ordered. His words felt foreign in your ears, before today you could never imagine him talking like this, so vulgarly. 

"Aaron, I-I need—," you paused, your eyes falling to his pants, more specifically the hardened cock inside them.

"Yeah? Is that what you want?"

"Yes, fuck, please," you gasped as his fingers hit that one spot just right. Your head lolled back as you clutched at his collar, his arm behind you keeping you in place.

"Watch your mouth," he said, and for some reason that was enough to send you right over that never ending ledge, your stomach coiling, heat spreading under your skin, every part of you ached.

"Oh—, Aaron, I-I'm—," you were a blubbering mess, rocking without mercy against his fingers, his thumb brushing against your nub in a way that made you feel like you had met your maker.

"That's it, baby, go ahead."

That was enough for you, your walls clenching around his fingers, back arching into him and you swore for a minute you could see stars. He helped you ride out your high.

You were wholeheartedly convinced; this was heaven. You had died and gone to heaven and the first one to greet you was Hotch, his hands tracing soothing patterns on your bare skin in an attempt to bring you back down to Earth. 

Just as you were about to reach for his pants, determined to feel him inside of you, his phone went off. Of fucking course. He shot you an apologetic look, the sound a wake-up call, pulling you both from the lust-fueled moment. 

He moved back with a couple steps, offering nods and muted words to whoever was calling at 12 am. You were suddenly extremely aware of your appearance--topless and on the briefing table for crying out loud. 

You attempted to stand, your legs betraying you with a wobble that had him instantly clasping your arm firmly, his attention flickering from the phone to the tremors in your stance. You gave him a small in return as if to say I'm fine.

You reached across the table, grabbing your shirt from its discarded state, not bothering with the bra as you dressed quickly. He cleared his throat, causing you to turn, just in time to see his phone disappear into his pocket.

"That was the Stafford police chief, there was another murder," he explained.

"Oh, right, okay, um..." you started, your brain racing into overdrive as you instinctively moved towards the door. "I just need to..."

Your movement was too quick, a dizzying spin that resulted in you tumbling into Hotch's solid frame. His reflexes were immediate, hands clasping onto you once again, preventing you from landing straight into him.

"Whoa, hey, are you okay?" he asked, brows knitting in a frown, "take a second."

"Yeah, um, yeah, I'm good," you managed to get out, even as heat suffused your face. "Just need to get changed, uh, can't imagine either of us want to the team to find me like this."

"Right."

He was still frowning, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss away the harsh lines of his forehead, but you were sure he wouldn't appreciate the gesture. 

You made a beeline for your office, the door's thud barely registering over pulsating rush in your ears. God, you were so screwed.

taglist: @chronicallybubbly @aremuslupinsimp @sky2nd @thisisdaisytrying @ryswritingrecord

[mxilkyways]

Sweet Affairs

summary: after a hunt gone awry, dean is pissed that the reader had put her life on the line - however, through concealed feelings and misguided judgement the reader refuses to see why dean is so worked up. An argument ensues between the pair that reveal hidden emotions and lead to them indulging in what they both had been craving for so long.

warnings: very heavy smut (⚠️), all the shenanigans

pairing: dean winchester x f!reader

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” his voice was taunt, gritted through clenched teeth as the door to the cheap motel slammed shut behind him.

Your jaw ticked, vein popping from under your skin as you swallowed down the obscenities you were tempted to spew at him. The tense silence on the car ride back had paid no help in trying to douse the frustration and insults whirling through your mind, rather having provided you the opportunity to stare daggers into the side of his head.

Your quietness seemed to push Dean even further, a disgruntled huff passing his lips as his fingers curled around your forearm; whirling you towards him. You whined in protest, attempting to tug yourself from his grip however his hold just tightened.

“Dont. Dont you dare try to pull away.” his tone left no room for argument and so you reluctantly stopped resisting. “Do you even understand what you did today?”

Your eyes narrowed, mirroring his, as you swallowed harshly. You could feel the anger in his hold, his fingertips dug in so hard there’s no doubt bruises would be left behind, yet it only served to fuel your own rage.

“Im not a baby, Dean. Of course i know what I did — i had a choice to make and I did what I thought was right.” venom leaked from your tongue, speaking to him in a manner that portrayed him as a petulant child.

A growl emitted low within his chest, his restraint clear on the verge of snapping. You watched as his head pivoted to the side, tongue darting out to wet his lips. It was barely a few seconds of peace before a scoff was drawn from his throat followed by the chastising echo of a laugh.

“Bullshit. You’re exactly what a fucking baby is — you got no goddamn brains throwing yourself into danger like that. You nearly got yourself killed, what about that screamed right to you?” he was provoking you, trying to get you to admit you were wrong but you were too stubborn for your own good.

Your eyes scanned over his face as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, biting so hard a metallic tang bled against your mouth. You noticed his gaze drop before he subconsciously moved, running his thumb along the outline of your bottom lip; pulling it from between your teeth.

You jerked your head backwards, away from his touch. “You’re acting like you wouldn’t do the same —“

“Its different” his words cut through yours. You glared at him again yet he seemed to pay no attention, his focus solely drawn to the blood that stained the cracks of your lips “you’re different”

This caused you to reel back, your arm yanking from his grip. Your chest heaved as disbelief coursed through your veins; eyes drawn almost into slits. Dean cursed as his fist clenched, dropping down to his side.

“Are you kidding me? How am I different, Dean? I had every right to do what I did and so what if I put my life at risk — the goddamn vampires are dead, thats all that should matter” your voice was raising with every word that left, your emotions coming to a boil.

You were about ready to turn and leave when Dean closed the distance between the two of you, his chest pressed so closely against yours you could feel the beat of his heart as it hammered against his ribcage. His fingers moulded to your chin, twisting so you had no choice but to look at him. His hold was so tight your cheeks squished inwards, your lips pouting involuntarily.

“You dont get it do you?” his tone was so grating you were left stunned, chests fitting together as you both struggled to cool down “I cant lose you — and when you do stupid shit like this, it scares me.”

Silence seemed to filter through the air as you registered his words, brain churning to try and decipher exactly what he was implying. His gaze jumped around your face, from your eyes to your lips, to your cheeks as his fingers flexed.

His hold loosened, hand sliding to the back of your neck as he now cradled you. His thumb swiped idly across your flesh, soothing down the impressions his nails had left behind. His lips drew into a thin line, an indication he was battling whatever was running through his mind, before his eyes snapped back to yours; a newfound sense of determination clear.

“I care about you, okay?” he paused, letting the words hang in the air “more than id ever bothered to admit to myself — to admit to you. You’re different because i dont know how the hell I would ever be able to live with myself if something happened to you.”

“Dean, I —” the words got caught in your throat, a tight coil forming within your stomach. Your tone was no longer harsh rather it was weak, like all the air had been sucked from your lungs.

“Just listen… please” his eyes were half glossed over, his eyebrows drawn together in a desperate act of pleading. He didn’t wait for you to respond before he spoke again.

“Ive tried so hard to push down my feelings but you make it so goddamn difficult when every time you walk into the room, I feel like being sick because I’ve never seen someone so beautiful. I thought… I thought you’d cursed me, bewitched me cause’ there was no way I was finally falling in love with you, but then I realized that maybe — maybe you’re just that perfect.” his eyes closed momentarily, a sharp inhale whistling in the space between us. “I hate you for it, sometimes - having made me fall in love with you because when you do the things you did today, I panic. I would do anything to protect you but at times like this I feel so useless, helpless that I cant just take you away from every bad thing in this universe… m’ sorry for getting angry but can you blame me? I dont want to lose the only pure thing I was given the honor of loving in this godawful life”

Your lips were parted as you took in every word that left his tongue. You stood, frozen, your hands itching to reach out, touch him, show him how much his words meant to you. There seemed to be a buzzing in the air that vibrated against your skin, causing goosebumps to awake on your skin.

“You’re not joking are you?” the sentence sounded dumb the moment it entered into the space however your brain was running overdrive and it was impossible to control what slipped out.

Deans head fell back, a dry laugh tugging at his throat before he drew back, gazing at you with such disbelief. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

“No” you shook your head, your own smile gracing your face before you leaned forward; connecting your lips to his.

The kiss was soft at first, your lips only slightly pressed against his as you tested the waters yet, almost clinically Dean deepened the contact. His hands moved across the flushed flesh of your neck, trailing over the blades of your shoulders, down the hollows of your back before coming to rest on the plush fat of your hips.

His fingers tightened possessively, drawing you impossibly closer as a groan jutted against your mouth. Your own hands splayed against his chest, creasing the fabric of his shirt.

You pulled back momentarily, a string of saliva connecting the two of you before it popped, glazing your bottom lip and chin. Deans gaze darkened as he eyed the scene, barely giving you time to register what was happening before his lips were attached to the skin of your chin. He kisses up the length of your face till he reached your lips again, letting his tongue run over your bottom lip; seeking entrance.

You hummed against him, parting your lips as his tongue directly began to map out the entirety of your mouth. Your hands threaded into the hair at the nape his neck, causing a sudden moan to escape Dean. The corner of your mouth tugged up before his teeth were biting down on your swollen lips, your own moan following suit.

One of your hands delve down between the two of you, landing on the prominent bulge tenting his jeans. He hissed, his hips rutting forward; chasing the way you palmed him through the, what he now considered, inconvenient fabric of his pants.

Your movements never ceased, working in tandem with the way his lips fought against yours. Suddenly his fingers caught your wrist, pulling back your hand as he whined against your mouth.

“Ah — fuck… you gotta’ stop that, sweetheart, or i ain’t gonna last” his breath was hot against you “plus if my cock’s gotta be milked, its gonna be inside you”

Your body shuddered as his words reached your ears, your thighs clenching instinctively to try to release the pressure that was building up. Dean didn’t fail to notice your action, a cocky smirk gracing his features as he patted the underside of your thigh.

The fat of your ass jiggled as you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist as your arms linked behind his shoulders. His hands grasped at the flesh of your thighs, holding you against him as his erection subsequently rubbed against your core from outside your shorts.

His lips met yours again in another feverish kiss as he began to lead you both over to the edge of the bed. With a soft thud your back hit the sheets, the mattress creaking under the newfound weight. His body caged atop yours, his forearms resting either side of your head as his hips slotted between your legs.

He rolled his hips forward, the rough material of your shorts snagging against your underwear; eliciting a moan from your lips. “shit, dean — need you so bad”

Your words caused him to hum against you yet something seemed to snap inside him as he picked up his pace. His fingers grasped the edge of your shirt, tugging it over your head before moving to the buttons of your shorts; those being torn from your body like it was a reflex.

Once he had you stripped down, he pulled back to admire you — sprawled out on the bed, hair tossed about, chest heaving. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed, like he was a man starved.

“Fucking hell” he muttered under his breath before diving to the column of your neck. His lips worked overtime, sucking harshly at your already reddening skin before his tongue would soothe over his art; licking a stripe up the column of your throat.

Your head fell backwards against the pillows, allowing him more access to assault your flesh. You were already a moaning mess and he hadn’t even touched you.

His fingers skimmed up the sides of your stomach, lifting your back off the bed as he fished the bra from your chest. His lips memorized their way down your neck, leaving marks along your collarbone before he paused just above your breasts. His eyes filtered up to yours through his lashes, silently asking you for permission.

“Please — please” you begged autonomously. At your signal, he wasted no time. His hands cupped around your breasts, kneading them as his mouth sucked and devoured your hardened peaks simultaneously. His teeth grazed along your skin, your back arching off the mattress as your legs tightened around his waist.

“So beautiful” he whispered as he continued to abuse your breasts. With a harsh pop, he pulled away from your chest, pushing up to capture your lips with his. “Cant wait to taste that pretty pussy of yours, baby”

You mewled against his lips, your underwear no doubt soaked through to the point of it being transparent.

“You gonna let me taste you, sweetheart? Please, let me taste you”

You clearly came undone right then. Your nails dug into the sheets beside you as you breathlessly pleaded for him to touch you. He gave a satisfactory hum before his fingers breached the edge of your panties, toying with the lace against your plush hip.

“Pretty little thing” he purred as he moved to spread your legs, settling himself on his knees at the end of the bed.

He trailed a line of wet kisses to the inside of your thighs, his hands placed with such a forceful grip to keep your legs pried open for him. You watched him with bated breath, your lip sucked between your teeth again.

His nose skimmed along your skin as he made his way up torturously slow. His nose nudged against your clothed core as his mouth came to a pause at the edge of your underwear. His tongue darted out, leaving a sloppy trail of saliva over the lace as it soaked through to your searing flesh underneath.

His teeth grabbed the top of your panties, sliding them down your legs until you were bare in front of him. An animalistic growl tore from his chest as his eyes locked into your core; glistening in a sweetness he was dying to savour.

He tightened his hold on your thighs before roughly yanking you towards him, causing you to yelp in surprise. He huffed out a laugh, the air blowing out on your bare cunt. You shuddered, your legs closing instinctively - wrong move.

Deans fingers flexed as he forced open your thighs again, his eyes staring up at you with a fiery desire. “Do that again. I fucking dare you” he scolded, the vein in his neck popping in frustration.

You could only whine out a pathetic ‘sorry’ which seemed good enough for Dean as seconds later his tongue was pressed between your folds.

“Goddamn, baby — you gonna get me pussy drunk with how sweet you taste” an incessant spew of moans fall past your lips as he drinks you in, slurping at your cunt like its the best thing he’s ever eaten.

He hooks your leg over his shoulder, giving him better access to delve his tongue deeper, ravaging every part of you he can reach. Your heel digs into the crease of his back, a pitiful attempt at grounding yourself before you spill against his mouth.

Dean hums against you, the vibrations nearly snapping the coil that has built within your stomach. He feels your legs shake, one hand coming up to rub encouraging circles.

He pulls his mouth away; his nose, lips and chin glistening with your slick and the sight almost sends you over the edge. Instantaneously his fingers replace his absence, toying with your cunt as his thumb moves to tease at your clit.

A slew of curses are thrown into the air as you messily grab at his hand on your thigh, intertwining your fingers with his. His efforts are relentless, pumping in and out of you as you drip down his digits and create a pool on the sheets underneath.

It’s once he curls his fingers inside you that the rubber-band finally snaps and your whole body spasms around him. His fingers work you through it, swirling around your folds as he coats his hand in your release.

“God — you’re too fucking good to me, feeding me when I’ve been so hungry for you” he brings his fingers up to his mouth, sucking them clean as he groans in fulfillment. He licks his lips, swiping your wetness from off his chin as if he was savoring every last drop of you.

You watch him with half-lidded eyes, your lips parted as small puffs of air tear from your lungs. The sight of him licking himself clean of you has your core throbbing again, a new wave of slick coating your walls.

You push yourself onto your elbows, your hand reaching out to grasp his jaw as you bring him up to your mouth; tongues clashing together in a battle of dominance. His hips rut into the mattress, his erection boarding painful from the lack of attention.

His fingers thread into your hair, wrapping around sweat-slicked strands as he continues to wreck your lips.

“You taste that, my pretty girl? Taste how fucking good you are” he groans into your mouth, making sure to run his tongue over every inch of your gums “Need more… need to stuff your pussy full of my cock — need to fill you up”

A whine pours from your throat yet not a second is wasted as your digits tug at the hem of his shirt. In one fluid movement, the fabric is stripped from his body; his muscle’s flexing as he settles back down between you.

Your cunt tightens around air as your gaze rakes over his body, every crease and hollow is reflected under the dim lighting of the room. Involuntarily your hips rock forward, brushing against his stomach.

“Ah — shit” he curses, his eyes dropping to your trail of slick that now coats his abs. His patience is worn thin, the need to feel your gummy walls clench around him becomes too much.

Theres a brief clinking of metal and the ruffling of jeans as he relives his body of clothing. His cock springs up, slapping against his stomach as his swollen tip glistens in pre-cum.

Like a greedy child, your thumb moves to swipe over his slit before sucking it clean off your finger. A pleased hum vibrated against your throat, his cum coating your tongue like a film.

Deans cock twitched against his abdomen, pulsating red and angry as it sought to be buried deep within your heat.

His hand wraps around his length, a shuddered intake jerking his chest. He shifts his hips, bending your knees and drawing you in closer. He slaps his shaft against your cunt before sliding it through your folds, coating his member in a layer of your wetness.

You hiss, your nails digging crescent moons into your palms. His eyes float up to meet yours as he positions himself at your entrance.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” his tone is soft, genuine.

“Ive never wanted anything more than you” your words serve as reassurance; a pathetic moan escaping Deans throat as he finally sinks into you.

His pace is slow, allowing you time to adjust as your pussy sucks him in. As his balls slap against your heat, he pauses above you — the stretch of him inside you both tender yet addicting.

His fingers skim your cheek, his face lowering to pepper kisses against your skin; your temple, your nose, your eyelids before meeting your lips.

“Doin’ such a good job f’me sweetheart, taking me so well” he praises as his hips slowly rock back and forth, setting a steady rhythm.

Your walls tighten around him, a string of incoherent mumbles spewing into the humid air of your bodies. The life outside is quiet, a stark contrast to the pornographic sloshing of his cock as it squelches in your juices.

Deans eyes fall to where he rocks in and out of you, his cock disappearing between your folds before emerging lathered in your wetness.

“Thats it baby, keeping suckin’ me in — fuck, you feel so good” his pace is becoming dreadfully slow, your body craves to feel every inch of him as he utterly destroys you

“Need you to go faster, Dean” you mewl, fingers curling around his bicep as if you could pull him to go harder.

Immediately his hips snapped forward, sheathing himself fully inside you before pumping in and out at a brutal rate. The fat of your ass rippled relentlessly, your breasts bouncing in sync as he continued to batter your cunt.

Your head lolled back, back subconsciously arching off the bed to take him deeper, feel every vein as it brushes your cervix. His hands shoot to your waist, holding down your body to angle himself just right as he reaches that spongy flesh.

You cry out, everything seemingly becoming too much as his tip kisses and teases that knot forming in your belly.

Dean only growls as your walls flutter around him, arms flexing as he tries to fight back his own simmering release.

“Could stay buried within’ your sweet little pussy all day” his hips stutter briefly “S’ like you were made for me — you’re the only thing i did right”

His name leaves your lips in a breathless chant; a warning. You can feel the knot tightening in your stomach — his length antagonizing you, testing how long you would be able to last.

You try to claw at the mattress, attempting to break away as the sensation overwhelms you but he holds you close. His body comes to encase yours, forearms resting beside your head as his lips dip to the shell of your ear.

“You’re so fucking perfect, too innocent for this world” his teeth nip at your earlobe, hot breath tickling the skin of your neck.

His words were ironic given your current state; cheeks glossed with tears of pleasure, lips swole and bitten, his cock pumping in and out of your tight hole as the only sounds filling the room were that of your lewd moans and his balls spanking against the flesh of your ass.

“Ive got you, pretty girl” at his signal the heat in your belly boiled over, body spasming under him as your ears rang and vision turned bleary.

Through your haze you barely made out the approval of his words, his voice strained and low; “Look at you, creamin’ around my cock”

He worked you through your high, pace keeping steady before he suddenly pulled out; thick ropes of cum painting your puffy cunt. Your walls clenched at the empty feeling, already missing having him make you feel so full.

His fingers glided through your folds, pinching your clit and eliciting a sensitive whine from you. He lathered up a mixture of both his and your release before stuffing his fingers inside you, making sure nothing went to waste.

His fingers pulled out with a squelch before he brought them up your lips, nudging at your mouth. You enclosed around his digits, tongue swirling over the tops of his fingers as you drank down the last of both your releases.

He placed a gentle kiss atop your temple before capturing your mouth with his.

“You did so well, love — you okay?” his eyebrows knitted together as he examined your worn out state. You could barely muster a nod in response, your legs still shaking and chest still heaving from the aftermath.

Dean patted the outside of your thigh before he was off the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. He returned only moments later, a damp towel in hand as he clambered back over to you.

He delicately spread your legs, pressing the towel along the inside of your thighs and over your core as he worked to clean the sticky mess of your body. Your teeth ground together as he drew along your tender flesh.

“Sorry, pretty lady, but i gotta get you cleaned up” he murmured, tossing the soiled towel to the side as he finished.

He helped lift your hips from off the sheets, gliding your bare form underneath the warmth as he slid in next to you. His arm wound its away around your waist, drawing you in as your head perched against his chest; the steading beat of his heart pounding into your ear.

He left a kiss to the top of your hairline, his lips resting on your slightly sweaty and flushed skin. Your fingers skimmed along his chest, tracing along the lines of the tattoo inked into his body.

A comfortable silence blanketed the two of you before your quiet voice broke the air: “I know i didn’t say it before but I love you too, Dean —”

“You dont gotta say anything, sweetheart… havin’ you here’s enough for me” he cut you off, hold tightening around your waist.

“But i want to” your chin perched upon his shoulder, eyes peering up at him through thick lashes. “I dont want you to think you’re alone in this, Dean because i feel the exact same way… I always have, I was just scared of ruining whatever we had”

He scoffed, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“Baby, if i ever rejected you, id damn sure have lost my mind”

a/n: idk what i just wrote

© dividers by cafekitsune

[taintedcigs]

— late night blues

pairing: roommate bsf!eddie munson x f!reader

summary: you can’t seem to sleep, so eddie offers to drive you around, but you have something else in mind that can make you relax and help you fall asleep faster; his fingers. (wc: 3.1k+)

author's note: not proofread. entirely self-indulgent. and normally i would gaf about interactions but i literally dont rn. i needed this <3 and for all my insomniacs out there... i appreciate u and i am u. hope this is like a warm/horny hug to all of u as much as it is to me. bc i need it desperately. the ending is kinda rushed i am so v sorry. pleaseeee reblog to support me. ty!! mwah.

Hogging the blanket you sank deeper into the couch, the light illuminating from the TV screen enough to have you squinting, but never enough to lull you into sleep.

You huff, impatiently, trying to shut off the voices in your head, thoughts swirling around everywhere and anywhere, making it impossible to let you embrace the sweet sleep you so desperately need.

"Why are you awake?" A low groan of Eddie's voice almost startles you, slight gasp leaving your lips, making you sit up straight with a deep breath.

"Couldn't sleep," you shrugged, "didn't wanna wake you."

"Should've," he grumbles, stomping on his way next to you, "y'know I can't sleep knowing you're awake, right?" A lazy smile is placed on his lips when he slouches right next to you.

The couch sinks with the impact and so does your stomach, the implications of his words not going unnoticed, the two of you have always been close, too fucking close to being considered as just friends.

Yet, none of you ever made any effort.

And you were growing tired of it, because, shit, did you like him. And a part of you, as well as everyone else in the gang kept teasing you about, told you he liked you too. Just waiting to be pushed.

"Wanna smoke?" He asked with a hum, "might help you sleep better." The brunette placed a lazy kiss on your forehead, another act the two of you always did, affectionate, too affectionate to be just friends, yet none of you ever dwelled on it, despite it leaving your entire body on fire in its wake, and Eddie's stomach churn with delight as you always smiled up at him. Sweet, almost peaceful, making you nod quietly, looking so fatigued that his chest ached for you.

"Was t'tired... couldn't roll one." You point toward the mess on the coffee table, grinder open with strains stuck in it, crumpled-up rolling papers, and a bunch of filters sprawled everywhere.

"How about we take a drive, princess?" He asks with a slight tilt of his head, the pad of his thumb slowly circling your face, tender and making you melt into him.

You shake your head quickly, not wanting to bother him in any way. "Eds, it's too late, I don't want you to-"

But he's quick to scoff. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Eddie, I mean it, we can just smoke this here and-" He tuts you quickly, already getting up, his Garfield sweatpants fully in view, making you giggle.

He takes your hand in his, dragging you while you huff and puff. "Grab a jacket or one of my hoodies, and let's fuckin' roll, honey."

Once you throw over one of his oversized hoodies, he almost carries you to the car, not wanting you to lose that sleepy state, knowing that it'd be hard for you to get it back.

You buckle your seatbelt, just watching him in his groove, head falling into the headrest as you admire him rolling a joint so quickly that it makes your head spin. "How the fuck can you do that?" You groan, "'s not fair." A pout overtakes your lips, causing him to grin. He wants to kiss it away, yet all he does is tuck the strands of your hair that are covering your features, turning your lips into a mellow smile, matching his.

"Well it helps if you were a dealer in high school." He rambles, a hearty giggle escaping from your lips, "I'll teach you some time too, honey, promise." You nod in acceptance, and another kiss is planted on your forehead, one you happily accept, let his warmth overtake your skin, eyes glazy and lidded as you look up at him, sleep deprivation so apparent in your face that it tugs at Eddie's heartstrings, seeing you this miserable. And not being able to do anything about it. Yet.

Quickly retrieving the lighter from his back pocket, he places the rollie on his lips, letting the igniting flame heat it quickly, sizzling sound as he inhales a small huff before passing it onto you calming you further.

You suck on it with a hum, watching the way Eddie quickly turns on the ignition, windows rolled down, the same relaxing tape playing over and over again, volume dimmed, Good Feeling by Violet Femmes serves as a background drop, one of your favorite songs, and of course, Eddie knows it.

The velvety dark sky steals your attention as you once again suck on the fragrant joint gently cradled between your fingers. Letting it engulf and numb you, for your bloodshot eyes to have a reason other than being restless.

A gentle breeze whispers through the cranked windows, rustling your hair in front of your face, making you giggle lightly. Three puffs, and you are already feeling giddy, "not too strong is it?" he asks, glancing at you with the biggest grin on his face, amber hues watching you intently.

"Nuh-uh," you hum, and his hand tenderly droops down to your thighs, giving you three gentle squeezes as a form of comfort. At least, he intends it to be for comfort.

But all you can think about is how thick and warm his fingertips are, cladded rings bringing a coldness that makes you hiss, tummy doing a flip as your hazy mind craves more.

It is the last piece of the puzzle you need to finally fall into that deep slumber, Eddie making you cum on his long fingers, curling inside of you, rings slicked with your juices, it's all you can think about.

You whine at your thoughts, throat growing dry at them, not knowing if it is cotton mouth or how stunning Eddie looks while focused on the road.

The perfect side profile that you can't help but admire; chiseled jaw with the slightest stubble that you'd do anything to have it rubbing against your clit right about now, Adam's apple bobbing slightly the more he gulped, lips plushy and so soft that you wanted nothing more than to bite into them, have them suckling your neck.

Fuck, this could be it, couldn't it?

You were already a bit dizzy, giving you enough courage to ask him to, and if he rejected you, you could always just turn it into a joke, couldn't you?

You rasp a desperate breath when his hands squeeze your thigh again, prominent veins making you mewl. His head cocks towards you in worry at the sound, "you okay?"

You barely register his words, gaze too focused on the tempting hold he has on you, "hmm?"

He quirks a brow, a smirk playing on his lips when he realizes how hazed you are, "are you hungry or something, sweetheart?"

Yeah, you were. Hungry for him.

You shake your head slightly. "You sure?" He asks, more attentive, and you can feel your wetness pool around your thighs, slicking you.

"Mhmm," you reply, head turning to meet his gaze, and when he slightly tilts his head, his shaggy bangs fall onto his forehead, making you gulp physically, he looks beautiful.

"Do you want anything?"

If he was any more attentive, you were going to crawl into his lap and grind on his bulge that hugged the print of Garfield on his sweatpants, "Nope," you gulped, prying your eyes away from the outline of his huge cock forcefully.

"Need anything?"

"You." The words slipped past your lips without any interference from you, it's like your subconscious was doing all the talking you had been so afraid of.

The insomnia and weed becoming a dangerous combo.

He choked out a laugh, cheeks crimson red, spreading across his bone like crushed raspberries. "Hah, funny aren't ya?"

He avoided your gaze, yet your head snapped to meet his. "Eddie- I-I mean it."

"Sweetheart," he mumbled, a low groan awaiting in his throat.

Doe-eyed, melting, and pleading hues finally met his. "P-please, Eddie, need it so bad, need to cum, relax," you coaxed, hand placed on his, squeezing it back, causing a drawl of sigh out of him.

He can't bring himself to ease into your touch, his lips quivering at the thought of finding you soaking for him, "Honey, you're high," he tries to reason, voice squeaky pitch, he wants it, so goddamn bad, but he can't take advantage of you in any way.

You huff, disagreeingly. "Oh, c'mon, Eddie, I just took like three huffs, you know I'm not a lightweight!"

"Sweetheart, I know but it doesn't feel right-"

"But I'm begging you to!" Your pleading voice crushes him, cock stirring just at your squeaky tone, you're going to be the fucking death of him.

"Y-you have no idea how fucking stupid I feel for turning you down when all I want to-" He sighed. "I don't wanna do anything that you might regret."

You huff at that, does he not realize how desperately you want him? How badly you have wanted him all this time?

"Fuck, Eddie, just-" Fingertips graze his once you grab his rough hands, they are powerless in your hold, and you're quick to dip them down your pajamas, rubbing them against your cotton panties that are now entirely soaked with your juices. "Do you feel that?" Your voice is shaky, and low groans rumble in his chest, his focus on the road becoming dizzy.

It feels surreal, you begging for him, for his fingers, how wet your panties feel just because of him. His brain can't comprehend a thought, your name slipping past his lips like prayers.

He can't help but press his hand further against your panties, just to feel more of you, cock straining against his own cage of boxers, knuckles white from the harsh grip he has on the steering wheel.

And you can see the desperation in his eyes, spurring you more and more. "How fucking wet I am just because you squeezed my thigh? Do you think I'd regret anything when I'm this soaked for you?"

He can't help it, roaring the engine again before he abruptly comes to a stop on the side of the road, his mind too dizzy to comprehend anyfuckingthing. "Fucking christ, baby, I-"

You interrupt him again, head lulling to his side, giving him those desperate, lewd eyes again. "I've wanted this for so fucking long, Eddie, p-please, you said you'd help me sleep... relax, I'm more than okay with it."

You know he's on the verge of caving in, he wants this as much as you do. "Angel..." he mumbles, tone so pornographically lustful that you feel the need to show him how much you want him.

You shove his hands inside of your panties in frustration, and he groans lightly at it, fingertips run up and down your slit, never entering your hole, taking his time to fully feel how badly you want him.

He collects your wetness at the tip of his digits, smearing them over the hood of your clit, earning a shallow gasp from you, just enough to break him, "Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, you're soaked," he grunts, eyes watching you hungrily.

"Mhmm, all for you," you hum, head thrown comfortably into the headrest, eyes lulling. He runs his fingertips over your sides, teasing, covering you in your juices, and all you can do is mewl for him.

A digit slips inside of you easily, making you moan so loud that Eddie's cock aches in the confinements of his sweats, admiring the way your mouth gapes at how good his fingers feel. "God, you're perfect like this, princess," he hums, fingertips circling around your clit, knowing exactly what to do to get you worked up.

It makes you whimper pathetically, turns out Eddie really does know you. So much so that all you want to do is cum on his thick fingers, have him take you home, make you bounce on his cock again and again.

He pushes another finger inside of you, watching the way your cunt takes his fingers all greedily. You're the one who's supposed to be high, yet he feels dizzy, so fucking dizzy that he can barely comprehend it.

This is all real, you just begged him to finger you, and now you're mewling on his fingers, pussy throbbing as he stretches you out slowly.

"That's it, baby," he encourages, listening to the sweet sounds of your whimpers, "doin' so good f'me," his praises drive you even crazier, and loud moans escape from your parted lips the more his thumb circles around your clit.

"So greedy, hmm?" He coos condescendingly, relishing in the pretty faces you make, his ring finger joining inside of your soppy cunt easily, "E-Eddie," you mumble, lost in him, fully.

His fingers pump in and out of you at a rough pace, getting you closer and closer to the edge, he can feel your cunt squeezing his ringed fingers desperately.

"You close, angel?" He grunts, and a sheen of heat creeps its way across your chest and up your throat at how good he is, all you can do is nod pathetically, too dizzy and too lost in his fingers to even speak.

You take your plump bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to stiffle your pathetic moans, but once he adds another finger, cold rings brushing against your clit, you can't help yourself.

"E-Eddie, fuck!" You moan, and he watches in awe, keeps his praises up, eager to see what you look like when you cum. He knows you'll be even prettier, screaming out his name, soaking his fingers in your pretty juices.

Your chest heaves with how much you're feeling him, stuffed full of his fingers, you can't even begin to imagine what his cock would feel like inside of you. Shit, maybe next time.

You pathetically rut your hips into his fingers, and he groans so filthily that your body feels frail, "That's it, baby," he praises. "Use me, honey, use my fingers to get yourself off."

Your face contorts with the sweetest pain and pleasure, his fingers plunged deep inside of you, padded thumb still continuing it's circles. Once his fingers curl inside of you, you know you’re a fucking goner.

Each of his movements, his touch, ignites a fire within you that is heightened by the weed, you are so desperate to cum that you don't even realize how pathetically you've been soaking his fingers, so wet and Eddie relishes in it.

"Oh, f-fuck, I'm gonna cum!" You moan out once you feel that dizzying pleasure bubbling in your chest, he can feel your pussy flutter around his thick fingers, making his chest swell with pride. "Mhmm, just like that, darlin', cum on my fingers."

It's all the confirmation you need before you cry out his name again, back arching as pleasure explodes inside of your stomach, vision growing white and dizzy. Your fucked out face, pathetic moans, and your gaping mouth making Eddie's cock strain tighter and tighter, as if that’s even possible.

His fingers don't leave your soppy cunt until he makes sure you ride your orgasm out, relishing in the pretty expressions your face contorts to as you fall apart for him.

Bringing a stupid wide grin to his face that has you feeling giddier. The weight of what the two of you did doesn't dawn yet, you're too tired, too fucked out to care, and all Eddie can think about is going back to the trailer and rubbing one out while thinking about the pretty sounds you made, the pretty shapes your face took as you came on his fingers. His.

He'll think about how pretty your eyes look rolled all the way back inside of your head when he's slamming into you, cock stuffed inside of you, parted lips repeating his name like a fucking prayer. Your tight cunt fluttered around his cock, milking him dry.

With a groan, he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking clean the remains of you, pathetically groaning at how sweet you taste. You watch him with lulled eyes, breath growing heavier, and if you weren’t about to pass out, you’d beg him for more, have his hard cock stuffed inside of you.

“Tastes so goddamn sweet,” he grunts, licking any taste of you left off his lips, your sweet juices engrained in his tastebuds.

You blink quickly to process all of it, mind numbed out. Fuck, he’s making this so goddamn hard for you.

“E—Eddie,” you say breathlessly, chest heaving as a shy smile appears on your lips, mind hazy as you try to form words. "T-that was amazing, shit."

"Yeah?" He beams, the praise is all he needs. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes glimmered at his words, air between the two of you was charged with a sweet tension. Breaths almost synchronized with the way both of your chests rose and fell on the rhythm of what just fucking happened. And all the feelings that led up to it.

You wanted to talk about it, take this further, maybe even continue back home.

But sleep began to settle inside of you, eyelids betrayed your pent-up feelings for him, already drooping in surrender.

And of course, Eddie knew by the sheepish smile you gave him, you were almost on the brink of sleep, and it was more important than his stupid feelings because the two of you had all the time in the world to talk about... whatever this was, tomorrow.

But if you lost your sleepy state, he knew you'd never get it back, “You sleepy yet?" He asked, thoughtful, caring gaze watching you intently, making you nod.

"Mhmm," you hummed, "But, Eddie..."

"Yeah?" He prompted, eager to soak up each and every one of your words.

"I don't want this to be a one time thing," you admitted, shyly, your heart leaping out of your chest in excitement.

"Thank fucking God." Slipped past his lips unintentionally, causing a hearty giggle to bubble up within you, easing away all of your worries.

Pools of warmth swam in his gaze, fully melting into you. "Me neither, sweetheart," he whispered, starting the car again, engine humming to life.

He met you with a saccharine smile. "But we have all the time to talk about that tomorrow, promise."

It hung in the air, the promise, almost like a warm hug engulfing you. All the confirmation you need.

"You just go to sleep, now, honey, I'll carry you inside," he urged, pressing a light kiss onto your forehead.

"T-thank you," you hummed, resting your head comfortably, deep slumber not taking long to find you while he watched intently, mind still running with thoughts of you.

Both of you had no clue what would happen with this; yet, you were now sure that this wouldn't remain as a one-time thing.

After all, you had a hard time sleeping almost every night, thankfully, you would now have Eddie to fix that.

[shmalk]

141 is filled with alphas, not a single omega in sight. there are a few betas, but they're either low-ranking or transfers that were never going to last.

like you! (beta!reader) who works at reception and takes calls, scans badges and is the first point of contact for the task force.

none of them know your name, none of them even speak to you - maybe price, when you transfer a call to him, he'll mumble a thank you. or even laswell, when you bring her a coffee.

it's nothing, really, you don't mind.

only, one day, a totally normal friday, you've done the exact same style in your hair you always have, and you're wearing more clothes than you were yesterday.

price wants a coffee, sure- you make it, just the way he likes, and head towards his office. you knock, and wait a few seconds until you hear 'come in.'

the office is silent, it usually is - but this time there's more than just price inside.

they're finishing up just as you enter, soap and gaz sitting in front of the desk whilst ghost leant against the back wall.

"my apologies, captain." your voice isn't exactly quiet - why should it be, you've done nothing wrong, but its still respectful. price just nods as you place the cup down on his desk.

"thanks, that's all." he dismisses everyone in the room, and you wait for the boys to file out before you do, soap and gaz both giving you a cheeky smile.

ghost is the one to hold open the door, standing just adjacent to the doorway with his arm sprawled against it. its a heavy door, and you swallow as you pass him.

"thank you," you all but mumble out as you rush past him - straight into the break room.

you can't help but rant about the situation to your roommate whilst you're packing up your things, your phone tucked between your jaw and shoulder.

"i mean- he held the door open for me and i couldn't even look him in the eye to say thank you!" you stress, throwing your bag into your passenger seat before leaning back against your car. "god, all i wan't right now is a plate of sushi and some boba."

"too bad its pizza night, dweeb."

"thats not fair! i could loose my job, i should be allowed to eat my comfort food when im stressed out."

you stress about it over the whole weekend, and when you return back to work on monday you try to act as casual as possible. of course, you don't see ghost - price doesn't order a coffee, and youre break time comes around quicker than you expected.

you had brought- oh, theres- your favourite sushi, and a boba drink sitting where your food was supposed to be. in somewhat messy hand writing, on a small piece of paper, theres your name.

signed ' s. riley. '

i am a sucker for sweet lil moments like this !!

in my head i think that simon would like a beta, or an alpha, but in this lil snippet (which is CERTAINLY getting turned into a fic) he's big and broad and gets worried when he's with alphas because they can't think straight, he tells them what to do and he does it.

but you? you dont react to his scent or chase him down to get him to court you - so, of fource, he courts you. <3