#just have fun and jump around and make what you like

[pythonmoth]

cw: post-traumatic stress disorder (torture). reader is unreliable, angry and inconsistent. reader is traumatized. military inaccuracies. jealous simon, jealous johnny. bros kissing their mates.

Simon Riley x f!Reader. implied Simon Riley x Soap. implied Simon Riley x f!Reader x Soap.

First | Last | Next

After your talk with Price, and the promise of Gaz bringing you food, you realize there's not much you can do. You can't use your fingers properly, you can't walk, you can't read, you can't even use a phone. It's not like you can concentrate, even if you wanted to. Your mind feels fuzzy and blurry, like you're under water.

Ironic.

Having nothing else to do, your mind goes back to Ghost and Soap. You try to concentrate on the man under the mask, on Johnny's loud laugh when Simon would pin him to the bed so you could tickle him or forcefully shave that disturbing mustache he gets sometimes, or Simon's crude, ridiculous jokes. A smile makes it to your lips when you remember your favorite.

"What do you call a dog with no legs?" you mumble, shaking your head. With a sigh, you look at your hands, the dull pain making your eye twitch. "Doesn't matter. He's not coming either way" you whisper to yourself, closing your eyes. Now that the panic has gone down and now that you know the full story, from Price's mouth at least, you really, really want to forgive them.

Really.

But just thinking of them makes it impossible for you to focus on the good parts; at least not long enough to forget the rest. The soft kisses, the cuddles, the long nights filled with smoke, and drinks, and holding each other in a single bed. All of that, is covered by a thick layer of betrayal and pain. You might understand Price, but the fact that he used your deepest fear against you is something you will never forget nor forgive. Same goes for Ghost and Soap. They don't deserve your forgiveness, and you're aware of that.

Your mind goes back to the day Simon confessed, making your dark thoughts pause for a moment.

All of you were drinking that night and they wanted to play truth or dare. Price had to lick places around the base nobody would dare mention again, Johnny had to wear your bra filled with peanuts for seven rounds —Price thought it would be funny—, and you all had fun making each other kiss. Hands, cheeks, lips, foreheads. If Gaz had to kiss Price's ass, nobody will ever mention it again.

It wasn't so funny, though, when Gaz dared you to kiss Simon. You were dismissive, saying it's funnier when they kiss each other, but then:

"Just say you're a wimp. You're scared you'll like it".

Not even two weeks later, Simon confessed. He wrote a ridiculous poem of your eyes shining like grenades, your hair being as dry as the desert, and your lips tasting like the first sip of water you take right after waking up at night in a mission, rusty but perfect.

It worked, of course.

A soft knock on your door makes you flinch, sudden fear making your heart pound hard. All thoughts and memories leave your mind in a second. You keep silent, staring blankly at the door as it slowly creaks open.

"Hey, it's me. Come in peace. Brought you food".

"Gaz" you cry out, rushing to stand up. It was a bad idea, but you couldn't even focus on that. Gaz' eyes go wide and jumps forward, nearly dropping the food in his haste to catch you when your knees give out, hissing in pain as your feet touch the ground.

"What are you getting up for, you idiot?" Gaz scolds, his arms under your armpits to keep you up, gripping the bag of food between his teeth so he can help you onto the bed. "Dumbass. Come on".

He keeps on grumbling at you for a few moments, setting the food aside after making sure you're comfortable. He tells you something about how he had to fight the lady in the mess hall for it, but you can only stare at him. He looks tired.

"You look like shit" you mumble, interrupting whatever he was talking about. Gaz looks down at you and grips your nose between his fingers, shaking your head slightly.

"Missed you, too. Now, come on, let's eat. I'm starving" he says, not giving you a moment of silence. You know he's trying to take care of you, so you just let him guide you, both of you sitting on the bed. You watch him set the food between the two of you.

He talks about his mission, though you're not sure he actually did all that or if he's bluffing just to make you concentrate on something else. He's halfway done with his food when he realizes you're just listening to him talk and haven't eaten.

"Weren't you hungry?" Gaz questions, his voice a little muffled, his mouth is filled with food. It's terribly disgusting, but it makes you feel warm.

"I guess. I don't know" you sigh, uncomfortable. You stab the food silently, not really in the mood for eating. Just the thought of it being even a little salty makes you want to throw up. And, using a fork feels ridiculously hard, even with all the bandages keeping your fingers safe from pain.

Gaz reaches out to steal a piece of chicken from your plate and takes a bite, munching happily as he starts talking again, mouth full. You don't realize he slowly starts feeding you the bites he steals, filling your mouth and watching you chew.

He's the same as always. Maybe it helps that he doesn't treat you like a victim, or perhaps it is that your tummy is full, because your head lands on his shoulder at some point. Gaz watches you sleep, his yapping coming to a stop as you drool on his uniform. He gently moves the food from the bed, making sure you stay comfortable resting against him.

Deep in sleep, your dreams are haunted by Ghost's mask. It morphs into a smile, laughing at you, haunting you, the teeth opening wide as if to bite your head off. Hundreds of Soap's hands grip you from everywhere, and you scream, and cry, and beg, and Ghost's just laughing at you, Price's voice echoing somewhere in the back of your mind, but you can't make out what he's saying.

You slowly wake up from your nightmare, your head spinning. Gaz' shaking your shoulder slightly, a lazy smile on his lips. "Oi, morning. You slept like a rock for nearly a day, good for you".

Gaz has to trick you so you can eat again, but when he leaves, promising you he'll be back later, your coffee remains untouched. You stare at the cup as the medics come and go, checking your hands and your feet. They tell you it's for the discharge, but you're really uncomfortable as they touch you, as they check on the wounds. You knew they were bad and that it would take at least four to six months for you to walk with the boots again and not feel pain, but when they confirm it, you want to curl in the bed and cry.

When the military psychologist gives you a visit, your sobs just can't stop. Talking about it is even more difficult than experiencing it, you realize. Your mind has locked so many things but you refuse to let them out for now, not wanting to accept anything but the pain they caused you. In any case, the psychologist isn't there to be of help just now. You know it's for the discharge, again, but it's as if they wanted to make sure you're truly crazy traumatized enough for them to send you home.

The exams take three days. Gaz and Price have been visiting you as much as they can, both of them managing to make you smile, or at least distract you. Even Ghost? Simon comes to visit you, with a different mask, and he takes it off as soon as he's inside so you can see his face. He looks as tense as always, but he keeps bringing things he knows you like: a chocolate, sour candy, even some of Johnny's cookies.

"Is he... not visiting?" you question him, your eyes fixed on the sour candy, blinking slowly. In a way, it pisses you off that he doesn't have the balls to come and see you. Again, it's not like you expected—

"Johnny's scared you won't want to see him" Simon answers, his voice gruff and hard, but it's clear he's trying to be gentle. He sounds different without the mask, and that helps your shoulders relax. Not much, though.

"Well, he hasn't come. How is he supposed to know?" you grumble, crushing one of the cookies with the heel of your palm. "I don't want to see you and you're here, anyway".

When you don't hear his response, you look up at him. He looks like he wants to cry, you realize. He's been doing that. Whenever you tell him the truth, he goes silent. Whenever you say you're scared of him, he's silent, whenever you say no, why would I want you to hug me?, he's silent.

You know you're probably being unfair, but how is that your fault, though? You're angry, pissed, and he keeps coming, showing you his face like you're so dumb you can't understand he will still wear the other mask outside, like you're so stupid he can fool you and make you think he never meant to hurt you. Isn't that why he did that, anyway? The only reason you stand him is because Price and Gaz have been telling you he's been mopping around like a fucking pup, and that maybe just letting him sit with you isn't a bad idea. But how's that not a bad idea? It's ridiculous to think—

"Do you want me to leave?" he cuts you off, his tone quiet. Only then, you realize you were speaking out loud.

It makes you falter. You take a moment to genuinely think about it.

"No, I don't" you admit, crumbling another cookie, keeping your eyes down for a moment. The silence is oppressive, exhausting. It keeps you on edge. "Did you believe me when I told you this was over?"

"Yes".

"Good".

On the third day in the clinic, Price tells you you're going home the next morning. It's so relieving to hear that you give him a hug, and then immediately freeze because Simon's in the room, staring at you, no mask. Johnny's right next to him, looking down at his feet and using his index finger to pick on his fingernails. They say nothing, only staring as you let go of Price and turn to Gaz, your shoulders relaxing completely.

Simon and Johnny share a look at your reaction, their jaws clenching hard enough to almost break their teeth, but they both remain silent.

You've grown used to their presence at this point, but as soon as Simon slips the mask back on, you have to look away. Perhaps the fear will always be there, even if you're half convinced he won't hurt you again. After a while, the two decide to leave so you can rest. Price leaves a few minutes later, promising to be there when you leave the next morning. Gaz is the only one who stays with you, as he has the past few days, but instead of him sleeping on the floor you two share the bed.

It's the last day, so why not?

He tells you a bit more about how he got certain scars, about how he plans on visiting you when he can so you can show him your house. You smile, nodding at the idea, just listening to him talk your ears off. It's comforting. You feel like you're in a sleepover with your friend, sharing gossip about other soldiers, and making fun of Price.

Your head is nested against his chest, your arms gently curled between the two of you as he holds you lazily, one of his hands caressing your hair. It's comforting and warm, and slowly, at some point, the idle gossip turns a bit more serious, finally reaching Simon and Johnny.

"You don't have to forgive them. Fuck them. I hope you remember that" he mumbles against your hair. You can hear the anger in his voice, and it makes you feel a little better. "Maybe you'll learn to understand why they had to do it, but that doesn't mean you have to be cool with it".

"And I'm not" you mumble back, shaking your head as you shift, looking up at him. "It's hard to just... look at them and not think of it. It happened like a week ago, anyway, so I can't be blamed. Right?"

"Fuck no. I'd say you give them hell a few months" he says, winking at you and nudging you slightly. It's enough to bring a smile to your face. You shift again, feeling restless, anxious.

"I don't know. I understand, I guess. I can't say I wouldn't have done the same in their position, but... I don't want to think about that right now".

"Of course" Gaz hums, his hand gently rubbing on your back. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.

It's warm, and it's nice. You melt into him, your eyes blinking lazily as you both lay in silence. Since Gaz has been taking care of you these past few days, you haven't been allowed more than two minutes of silence whenever he's in the room, so you treasure it.

Perhaps is the peace you're feeling, perhaps is the way he's holding you, but you can't help but look up at him. He's lost in his head for a long moment, looking up at the ceiling, before realizing you're staring at him. He raises an eyebrow, playfully poking your back.

"What do you want? Is there something on my face?" he asks, moving so he can look down at you properly, his eyebrows furrowing.

When he shifts, trying to get comfortable again, you surge forward.

It's only a brief, soft press of lips.

Gaz is silent when you pull back, his eyes worried, mostly surprised, but also deeply conflicted. His body is frozen, half lifted from the bed where he was changing his position. You feel shame deep in your stomach. Fear, maybe.

"I'm sorry. I'm really—"

He cuts you off.

It's a soft kiss. There's nothing but calm and affection in it. You're not sure for how long it goes, but it's only when he cradles your face, the kiss slowing down, that you realize you're crying. He hugs you closer, letting you cry into his chest, caressing your hair.

It takes a while for you to calm down, your hot face buried deep in his chest, embarrassed. Ashamed.

"Are you angry?"

"What? No. Why would I be?" Gaz asks, sounding genuinely confused.

"Because I kissed you?"

He hums, his hand never stopping where it's caressing your back. "No. I'm not mad. It was a good kiss." You groan, hitting him on the ribs with your elbow. He laughs, patting your back so you settle against him again. "Nothing bad with kissing your mates".

"Shut up!"

"Fine, fine. Well, look" he starts, shifting to turn the lamp on so he can look at you. "I think you needed that, and maybe I did too. I don't think I'm a replacement, either. Or am I?"

"No!" you shriek, your face heated.

"Then that's fine. Just kissing the mates goodnight".

"Garrick!"

"All I'm saying" Gaz says, grinning down at you and placing a hand on your head, "is that a kiss can just mean that. Did it feel good? It helped?"

You purse your lips, frowning. It did feel nice. It's not like it took away the trauma or anything, but it was nice. Your restlessness isn't there anymore. "Yeah".

"Then that's alright. Don't question it much".

"Should've asked. I'm sorry".

"It's cool. Just don't do it in front of the rest. They wanna kiss their mates, too, but they need alcohol for it".

"What? You'd be embarrassed?"

"No. You would be, though".

"Why? It's not like— ugh!"

Gaz playfully grips your face, not letting you move, and kisses your cheek loudly, making you laugh for the first time since you woke up. He manages to keep your good mood, not letting you dwell on whatever that kiss could've meant. At some point, you hear him snore softly, and decide to settle against him, focusing on his heartbeat.

Your feelings haven't changed for Gaz. You're deeply aware the kiss wasn't romantic. It's like... you're just closer, somehow. With a big sigh, you let your body relax, and fall asleep.

The next morning, it takes you around half an hour to be ready with the medics help. Johnny packed your things, now in the truck, and Simon's wearing the full black mask as he pushes your wheelchair.

Price can't make it, but you're not surprised. Gaz gives you a big hug for him, squishing your face against his chest. Johnny and Simon very carefully help you to the truck, never once touching your bare skin, never once meeting your eyes. You stay very still, but when Simon's hand gently rests on your waist to help you adjust, you look up at him.

"I'm sorry" he says, removing his hand instantly.

"It's alright" you mumble.

You both stay quiet for a moment. Then, Simon nods and slowly takes a step back. "Take care of yourself. I'll... text you?"

"I'll try to text back. Won't promise I will".

That seems to be enough. Simon's eyes warm behind the mask, filled with hope. He gently lifts a hand, his movements predictable and slow. Your shoulders tense a little, but you give him a nod, your eyes on his. He caresses your hair, drinking you in, endulging himself in the permission you give him. In the end, he steps out of the truck.

Johnny's eyes are filled with guilt, and he doesn't touch you, standing right there, just a step away from the door. "Take care, yeah?" he says, his hands gripping the seat in front of you.

"Yeah. Thanks" you mumble, your palms rubbing on your thighs. You feel uncomfortable around him, instead of actually scared. He hasn't tried to talk to you much at all, so it's a little confusing.

Finally, Gaz steps in and your smile becomes genuine.

"I'll see you as soon as I can" he says, his hands gripping your cheeks just to squish them together. "If you don't eat, I'll personally go and shove it down your throat".

"Lovely. Thanks" you grunt. You motion him closer, and press a kiss to his cheek. "That's for you. And tell Price that I'm thankful, all in all".

"No".

"Fuck you, Gaz".

"You wish".

You roll your eyes hard enough for it to hurt, but your smile is warm, content. With another tight hug, you say goodbye, and the engine rings in your ears.

Then, you're off.

so! there's that. no, this isn't gaz x reader, im just heavily projecting and I think he's down to kiss the homies for fun and comfort, like I am.

simon going from simon to simon isn't a typo, she just hates him less. 😋

taglist: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @dorothy-rainbird @adventurerabby @sheepispink @iambuttwodaysold @blackhawkfanatic @malevolentghoul @thriving-n-jiving @literallegendicon @echo9821 @angel-bugz @ssc7514 @defronix @clickbait-official (im adding this one very nervously so😭 I'm sorry)

[its-luna-noel]

puppy chronicles

03. the playful puppy | nanami x reader

The JJK men are gifted a hybrid puppy. ...wait, that kind of puppy? alpha!human!jjk men x omega!hybrid!reader

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, hybrid!au, omegaverse, hybrid!reader, omega!reader, pet play, collars/leashes, smut, heat/rut, knots, oral (f! receiving)

word count: 4.3k next: the innocent puppy | choso x reader

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hi there! here's nanami's puppy chronicle, i hope you enjoy! had a lot of fun writing this one, he's got such a good dynamic.

When Kento was told he was getting a Christmas bonus this year, he was not expecting to receive an untrained hybrid puppy instead of an extra check.

You tug at the leash his boss’s secretary has you on, nearly knocking her over as you whine and whimper, tail wagging excitedly behind you while you try to catch his scent. Your sheer black slip rides up your hips, revealing matching black panties that accentuate the plush curve of your ass. The flesh around your hips and thighs jiggles gently with every animated lash of your tail.

Kento has to clear his throat and adjust the tie at his neck, suddenly feeling far too warm in his suit.

“Uh, sir–” he tries to say, because he wasn’t expecting to go home with a puppy today.

His boss cuts him off with a grin and a hearty laugh. “Just take her, Nanami! She’s from one of the best breeders in town; I’m sure she’ll make a perfect pet, once she’s trained.” He winks.

So Kento takes the leash from the secretary, pretending his hand isn’t shaking.

He takes you home, keeping you on a short leash to keep you by his side as he unlocks his front door and allows you in. He unclips the leash from your thick leather collar, and you’re darting away, ignoring the calls of your name while you giggle and explore.

He pinches the bridge of his nose while he watches you prance around his living room, exploring all of his decorations, his collection of books, his shelf of records. Your furry tail whips side to side, and your ass wiggles while it wags because you just can’t contain your excitement; you have a home! You’ve always wanted one of those, especially with a handsome, kind owner. He’s got pretty blond hair and warm hazel eyes, and he smells good, too, like a true alpha. You smell him on the air and bound over to him, rubbing up on him affectionately.

“Mr. Nanami!” you cry happily, tail still beating back and forth. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!��

He sighs softly, and his drawn expression relaxes a little as he looks down at you, watching you rub your face against his shoulder. “Call me Kento,” he tells you, reaching up to pet your fluffy, floppy ears.

You hum happily and tap your foot animatedly, making him chuckle. Then, when he pulls away, you bound away, jumping up and down excitedly. “Do you have any toys? Or games? What about a ball; I’m really good at fetch! Or tug-of-war, I’m good at that too!”

He shakes his head. “I don’t have any toys, puppy. I wasn’t exactly expecting to bring you home today.”

Your tail drops, and a small pout forms on your lips. Then you brighten up. “That’s okay! We can go get some! Can we go shopping, Mr. Kento? For toys?”

“Just Kento,” he emphasizes gently. “Will you be a good girl if I take you out?”

You grin up at him, bounding towards the front door. “I’ll be good! Oh, please please please!”

So he lets out another soft sigh before gently patting your side, gesturing for you to move away from him. “Let’s get you changed first.”

“Oh, but why? I don’t wanna wait!”

He gives you a stern look. “Because I don’t want other alphas staring at you while we’re out. The walk here was hard enough.”

You smile up at him, tail wagging. It makes you feel good that he wants to keep you for himself, that he’s already possessive over you. It makes you feel like you’re wanted, desired. “Okay!” you chirp, turning and happily skipping towards the master bedroom.

He shakes his head after you, following you. “On the left,” he calls ahead as you sniff at different doors, trying to find the bedroom.

You walk inside, and you’re suddenly overcome by the overpowering scent of him. It’s everywhere, heady in its intensity, drowning you in musk as you, without permission, crawl up onto the bed and curl up right in the center.

Kento walks in and raises an eyebrow when he sees you. “That’s mine,” he says.

You smile, tail thumping softly against the sheets. “Smells like you,” is all you say in reply.

He lets out another sigh before coming over and sitting on the end of the bed. He reaches over a hand and lightly pets your ears, and your foot taps repeatedly against the mattress.. “Let me find you some real clothes to wear, alright?”

You nod happily, bumping your nose against his palm affectionately. He smiles a little and stands.

He searches through his dressers for something you can wear, something more appropriate than the sheer, unsupported slip you were presented to him in. He finds you one of his sweaters and a pair of joggers that might fit you.

You stay curled up on his bed, watching him move around the bedroom with ease.

He’s attractive, you notice again. Almost devastatingly so. With cheekbones so sharp you’re sure you’d cut your fingers on them and those gentle eyes, it makes you want to whine and whimper until he comes over and ravishes you in his bed. But the idea of going on a walk with him is even more tempting, so you sit perfectly still in bed while he brings you clothes, setting them on the bed beside you.

“Get dressed,” he tells you.

You grin up at him and crawl towards him, sniffing at his neck. “You’re supposed to dress me! I’m your puppy now.”

His cheeks burn pink, and you coo at the adorable sight, lapping at his neck and cheeks. He puts his hands on your shoulders to gently push you away. “Stop that. You’re perfectly capable of dressing yourself.”

You whine, high-pitched and pathetic. “But Kento,” you say, and the sound of his name on your sweet lips is enough to make him blush a deeper shade of red, “I want you to do it.”

So he, cheeks still brightly flushed, reaches down towards your thighs, grabbing the bottom of your sheer slip, and starts pulling it up your legs.

Your tail wags animatedly at the feeling of his knuckles brushing your skin.

He pulls the slip up, up, up, until your body is fully revealed to him besides the lacy panties you still wear. Your tits hang perfectly on your chest, and he fights to swallow, averting his gaze before he starts imagining what it would be like to lower his mouth to them and suck, to run his tongue over your heated skin.

He clears his throat and grabs the sweater he brought for you, practically shoving it onto your body.

You whine again at his brusque behavior, ears pinned back, though if it’s in annoyance or hurt he’s not sure. So because he can’t tell, he softens his movements a little, gently helping you to stand at the side of the bed so you can step into the legs of his joggers.

Once they’re up around your hips, he practically sighs in relief. You’re much less of a temptation now that you’re not dressed in see-through lingerie. He reaches up, fingers gently trailing the leather collar at your throat. “Want this off, too?” he asks.

Immediately, you whimper, pulling back to look at him with pleading eyes. Your tail drops between your legs, and you shake your head repeatedly, backing up against the mattress. “No, don’t take it away!”

“Shh,” he whispers, caught off guard by your vehement response. “It’s okay, I won’t take it if you don’t want me to. I was just asking.”

Slowly, you relax. Then, once he offers a soft twitch of his lips towards what you think is a smile, you sniffle and prance forward. “Walk?” you ask.

He can’t help himself; he chuckles. “Yes, let’s go before the shops close.” He leads you towards the front door, and before you walk out the door into the brisk evening air, he clips your leash at your throat.

You hum, leaning your cheek into his hand before he pulls away. Then he opens the door and leads you outside.

He huffs when you bolt out the door, tail wagging wildly once more as you tug on the leash, going up to everything and everyone you see to investigate.

More than a few people stare at the misbehaving puppy.

Kento hisses your name under his breath, giving the leash a sharp tug – not enough to hurt you, but enough to make his displeasure known. Your ears pin back slightly, and you come to a stop, turning and looking back at him with a chastised expression.

He walks over, tightening his hold on the leash. “You said you’d be good.”

You hang your head, and he can’t tell if you’re being dramatic or if you’re actually taking in his soft reprimand. “Sorry.”

He sighs and pats your head, trying to raise your spirits once more. He already doesn’t like seeing you sad. “Come on,” he encourages, giving your ears a gentle rub. “Just try to stay by me, okay? I don’t like when you pull on the leash.”

You nod, seeming to take his instructions seriously. And when you start walking again, you stay at heel, simply gazing around at the sky, the neighborhood, the walking neighbors.

Living in an affluent area, there are a few other hybrids around, some on leashes and some off. They turn to look at you curiously, their ears forward and tails swishing as they realize a new puppy has joined the neighborhood.

Some who pass close enough stop to scent you, and when you scent them back, Kento has to try to not feel jealous. It’s only natural for you to be curious.

But he’s already starting to feel possessive of the little omega he was gifted only this afternoon.

He walks you to the nearby shops, where he buys you things you need like clothes and toiletries. Then, your last stop for the night, he leads you into one of the hybrid accessory shops to buy you toys as a reward for behaving. With bags in hand, he leads you back home, giving you slack on the leash as you continue to walk beside him without complaint.

When you get home and he unclips the leash from your collar, he gently squeezes your chin between thumb and forefinger. His eyes are even softer than they were before, and you gaze up at him, thinking he might just take you and kiss you senseless.

Instead he asks, “Would you rather sleep in my room or the guest room?”

Your heart aches to be away from him. “Can I sleep in your room?”

He nods and helps you take the bags up to his room, helping you unpack all your new things. Once he’s done, he turns with a smile and tosses a tennis ball – new and bright green and fragrant – down the hall.

You bound after it, laughter pealing off the walls. He chuckles under his breath and shakes his head after you. He wasn’t excited to have an energetic pup like you when he first walked you home, but now he’s sure you both will enjoy the company.

Besides, this just gives him the chance to learn exactly what tires you out.

~

When your heat comes, you’re nearly insufferable.

Rubbing your ass up on him, stretching and arching in bed just to tempt him into taking you – even just the sweet scent of your heat nearly drives him crazy. He’s trying to be respectful, trying to treat you kindly, but you’re making him want to just pin you down and mount you, to mate you like an animal. 

He fights it for as long as he can, but he can only do so much when you’re just begging to be taken.

He comes home that day from work to find you nesting in bed, curled up in blankets and whimpering like it hurts, because it does. Every moment that the alpha – your alpha – won’t claim you is another spent in agonizing heat, and no amount of touching or fingering or cumming can fix it without his knot.

You try to tell him as such. You whimper, “Kento.”

“I know it hurts, sweet girl,” he says, voice hushed as he’s hit with the thick, cloying scent of you. “But I don’t want to take advantage of you; I don’t–”

“It’s not taking advantage of me,” you whine, ears flat against your skull as you rise up on your hands and knees and arch, wagging your ass back and forth. You can hear his sharp intake of breath as you show off your wet, darkened underwear, nearly translucent with slick and arousal. “Please!”

He grits his teeth, trying to fight it. But he can’t rip his eyes away from the sight of your barely clothed cunt, your puffy lips poking out from either side of the fabric. You’re so wet he’s pretty sure he could lean in and drink it from you, and yet he holds himself back, he hesitates, all because he doesn’t want to hurt you…

But with one last circular movement of your hips, he can’t help himself. He has to feast on you. Has to devour you.

He grabs your hips, fingers digging into the plush flesh there, and he yanks you backwards towards the edge of the bed. You yelp in surprise, but you just bury your face into the duvet and grind your hips back, the thin fabric of your underwear catching on the buckle of his belt.

He lets out a muffled groan, fingers squeezing your hips. “Sweet girl.” He’s already panting.

He falls to his knees at the end of the bed, spreading your thighs so he can get a better look at your dripping pussy. You angle your hips into an even deeper arch, and he hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them to the side, taking a good, long look at the meal he’s about to have.

Then he leans in and licks a long stripe up your pussy from the back, tasting you for the first time.

He groans loudly, and your hips jolt, the vibrations from his voice sending pleasure tingling through your body. “Taste so sweet, darling girl,” he mumbles into your cunt, and then he licks another long line from your clit up to your pussy, tongue swirling there before diving in, making you cry out loudly at the sensation.

All he’s doing is building the heat higher, higher, higher.

“Kento,” you whimper, legs trembling already at the stimulation. He just wraps his arms around your thighs and tugs you forward until your ass is dangling over the end of the bed, giving him a prime angle to eat out your drooling cunt. “Kento!”

He doesn’t stop. He just wraps his arms tighter and commands, “Say it again.”

But you don’t, because you’ve always been a playful little girl, and you like having the power over him. And so he pulls back, panting, hot breath fanning against the back of your thighs as he tries again. “Say my name, sweet girl.”

You shake your head, wiggling your ass in his face, tantalizingly close. “Not till you fuck me.”

He growls, a low, rumbling noise deep in his chest. “You’re being a little brat, huh? I know the best way to get you to stop that, though, don’t I?”

You shake your head, not understanding. You’re not a brat, you just like to play with him. Like when he finally smiles, when he finally lets his guard down enough for you to see the real, soft him, the one who laughs while playing with you and pets your hair like a good alpha.

But he knows the truth; you are a brat, and he knows he loves it.

He tightens his grip on your hips and continues, “Yeah, I know the best way.

“I just have to tire you out.”

You yelp again when he dives back into your pussy, nose nearly breaching your entrance as he licks at your clit with feverish intensity. You try to tug away, just wanting his dick! But he doesn’t let you go; he just wraps his arms tighter around you, beefy biceps pushing against your plush thighs. He laps at your clit repeatedly, finding the exact right angle that makes you moan the loudest and stays there, bringing you crashing towards your orgasm in an embarrassing amount of time. Your cheeks are burning as he makes you cum almost immediately, your thighs tightening and pussy throbbing against the tip of his nose as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

He doesn’t even stop for a moment to let you breathe before he’s forcing you towards a second one.

“Wait!” you cry, reaching back to push at his head, trying to detach him from your cunt. “Wait, I’m sorry!”

“Mm, don’t be sorry, sweet girl. I should be sorry for not tiring you out properly, especially when you’re just in heat and don’t know any better. Can’t know any better, right? You’re just a little puppy who needs to be taken care of.” And he redoubles his efforts against your clit.

You cry out again, hips bucking under his tongue. “Please, Kento!”

“Mm,” he hums against your clit, following your every movement so that he can make you cum properly – that is, over and over and over again. “What, sweetheart?”

You whimper, “Too much.”

“Aw, honey, it’s okay.” He reaches up with one hand and takes yours, which is currently gripping the duvet with white-knuckled intensity. “Just hold onto me.”

So you move your fingers to wrap around his, and it helps keep you grounded as he entirely ruins you.

He makes you cum a second time before he even moves. He takes a moment to catch his breath, working his jaw to relax the sore muscles before bringing the hand that’s not holding yours down to rub your ass. He palms the flesh there for a moment, letting you take a breather. He doesn’t start back up until your breath has started to slow.

Then he moves his hand, and two long, thick fingers push slowly into your pussy, stretching it open for him.

You whine and moan, hips bucking against his palm, but he doesn’t change his pace as he just slowly sinks into the heat of you, your dripping arousal more than enough lubrication for him to comfortably fit his fingers inside.

Then he pulls back and starts to slowly fingerfuck you.

You moan, hips continuing to try and pull away from his touch, instinctually running away from the overstimulation. But he doesn’t let you run; he keeps you pinned there as he resumes his perfect motions, licking your clit once more as he slowly pushes his fingers inside you.

You have no idea how one person’s mouth can be this good. He’s tearing you apart and putting you back together, and all you can do is enjoy it, even as you continue to pout, because you just want him to fuck you.

“Sweet girl,” he whispers against your cunt, “I need to get you ready first.”

And that makes the heat burn even hotter, to know that he is planning on fucking you. You suppose you can wait.

And he makes you wait, until you’re a drooling, panting, crying mess against the bed.

Your legs can’t even hold you up anymore; it’s all Kento as you lean into his strong hands, letting him position you where he wants you. The lower half of his face is covered in slick, and all he does as he finally pulls away from your cunt is wipe it away with the back of his hand and lick it clean.

Oh, it’s a divine sight.

Kento rearranges your limbs on the bed, climbing up behind you until you’re propped up on your knees again, legs wobbly from how many mind-shattering orgasms he’s already given you. He pushes you down into the mattress, one hand on your hip and the other in your hair, as he rises up onto his knees behind you, pressing his clothed erection against your quivering, needy pussy. It’s practically slobbering on him, smearing slick over the front of his pants, but he doesn’t care, he can’t care, not when he’s rubbing himself on you, grinding his dick against your swollen lips.

Then he brings his hands down and slowly unbuckles his belt, unhurried. You can’t believe the amount of patience this man has.

He drops the leather to the side, and then he’s unbuttoning his pants, lowering the zipper until the only confines trapping the thick print of his cock are his dark boxer briefs. He pushes his pants down towards his knees and kicks them off, and then he repeats the process from the beginning, grinding his dick against you before finally pushing down his underwear, too.

Leaving him bare behind you.

You can feel how hot he’s running, can feel how big he is right up against your pussy. He slathers slick along the head, gathering your arousal as lubricant before he presses up against your cunt. “Are you ready?” he asks, ever the gentleman.

You just moan in response, right into the mattress. It’s all you can muster.

He smirks a little; he can’t fight it. Seeing you fucked drunk with just his mouth is a sight he’s proud of, and he takes it in as he slowly pushes inside of you, letting you feel every inch and every ridge of his veiny length.

You moan, face pressed into the duvet as you’re nearly drooling at the sensation of his thick, perfect dick stretching you open. You’re practically choking on it; you think you can feel him all the way in your chest.

Finally, he bottoms out, and he pauses, letting you both take another breather. His shoulders are rising and falling a little faster than before, and it makes you happy to know that you affect him just as much as he ruins you.

Then he starts to pull his hips back, fucking you slowly, tenderly. But that’s not how you want it.

You grind your hips back against his, and he makes a choking sound, grabbing your waist to stop your movements. “Knock it off,” he strains through gritted teeth.

You don’t. “Or what?” you tease, turning your head to look back at him.

God, you look ruined. This is the first time he can see your face clearly since he started, and you’re flushed, sweaty, eyes hazy and cock-drunk with only a couple thrusts. Your tongue lolls out at the corner to catch a drop of drool.

He grips you harder. “Sweet girl,” he says, voice tight with restraint, “I can only do so much. I can only control myself to a certain point. You can’t keep taunting me, or I’ll lose it.”

“So lose it,” you say, like it’s that simple.

He snarls and snaps his hips forward, and your back bows into a delicious arch, a loud cry falling from your lips. His blond hair is a mess, sticking to his forehead with sweat as he pulls back. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

All you know is the aching stretch of his cock, and the promise of more when you take his knot.

So you knock your hips back again. Toying with him. “Please.”

And, well, who is he to deny your wishes when you ask so pretty?

He grabs your hips and pushes you further into the mattress, pining you into a mean arch as he pummels into your swollen pussy, feeling how gummy and tight your walls are as they convulse around him every time he hits your cervix. You’re hardly even moaning anymore; you’re just whining and crying out, loud ah ah ah!s echoing in his bedroom as he fucks you like you wanted.

Like the brat you are.

He grunts, the slaps of his hips meeting yours just as lewd as the sounds coming from your lips. And it just turns him on more, how fucking filthy it all is, the wet squelching of his cock ramming into your pussy, the sweat and slick and drool that’s ruining his sheets.

He can’t help but think that maybe he is nothing more than an animal.

With that thought, he leans down, brushing his lips against your neck. His canines scrape the skin right where your scent glands emit such delicious pheromones. “Sweet girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss there to soothe the red welts his teeth leave, “be mine.”

You just moan, eyes rolling back as he continues to fuck you. He takes that as a yes.

He bites, teeth sinking into the buttery flesh there and breaking skin. He holds on while he fucks into you, and he feels the base of his cock swelling, just a couple more moments and he’ll make you his, oh fuck–!

With one more heavy shove, he forces you to take his knot, leaving you mewling in aching, agonizing pleasure. And then he cums, filling you with rope after pearly rope of his semen, plugging you full of his puppies.

His chest heaves with every breath, and you feel his muscular torso against your back as he slowly sinks down on top of you, his body caging yours in. And he presses soft kisses to the side of your neck, right over his mating mark, trying to soothe you as you come down from the overwhelming experience.

He tries to shift, but that just makes his knot tug at you enough to make you yelp and cry out. So he stays on top of you like that, kissing it all better.

“My sweet girl,” he murmurs against your neck, trailing kisses up to your ear, where he whispers, “my little puppy.”

And oh, at those words, you think you’re in love.

thanks for reading! -luna link to ao3 | next: the innocent puppy

[girlsworldillusion]

Your polished hatred flatters me

Slytherin!Aemond - Fem!Reader

HARRY POTTER AU ⚡️🐍

arranged marriage x enemies to lovers

Summary: If there was anything worse than being forced into an arranged marriage with someone you didn't even know, it was that that someone would become your greatest enemy.

Rated: Explicit (+18)

Word count: 12k

Dividers: @allbutthreads

Author's Note: This story is entirely based on the Harry Potter franchise and its spin-offs, but I may also have added a thing or two of my own.

There are some topics that may be sensitive, such as: blood purity, verbal marriage contracts made at an early age, and young children practicing curses on each other - but overall, this is just a spicy and fun story.

Enjoy!

English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you may find.

“Merlin!” You jump as a huge, translucent green bubble bursts from within your cauldron, the scalding spray nearly reaching your eyes and blinding you in the process.

From across the potions station, Jace sends you a wide-eyed look, his silky, dark curls now frizzy and unruly around his flushed face.

With a frustrated sigh and restless fingers you push the straggly strands of hair behind your ears; the humid, smoky environment making your own hair puff up almost comically, your cheeks pink and skin sticky from all the exposure to the heat and steam.

"That doesn't make any sense, I did exactly what the recipe said-" You mumble, wrinkling your nose at the foul smell of mold and dirty socks that rises in disgusting spirals from your brewing potion, where the swampy goo bubbles almost angrily. "There must be something wrong with this book."

"Umm, is the smoke supposed to be that color?" Your fellow Gryffindor, always oblivious to subtleties, asks, the two of you blinking like idiots at the charcoal-colored smokescreen that at that exact moment leaps out of the cauldron with a loud 'poof' that could not be considered anything less than theatrical. You both explode into a indiscreet coughing fit, the thick, abrupt appearance of the black smoke bomb leaving your faces slightly streaked with soot.

Even though you already know the answer, you still look sadly at the open book on the potions table when you finally manage to stop coughing, holding on to a single remaining fragment of hope that a miracle has happened so that your work won't be considered completely useless in the end.

"Actually, it says here that it should be silver."

Luck isn't something you usually have in abundance, for the record.

"Maybe Snape won't notice. Merlin knows he's had that huge hooked nose stuck in the same book since the class started. Something is clearly keeping him distracted today, much to the general relief and protection of Gryffindor's points. Maybe it's your lucky day after all." The boy smiles brightly at you, all flushed and soot-stained, trying to sound positive despite the chaotic results unfolding right before his eyes.

Of course, since his survival depends solely on breaking other people's expectations and frustrations, Professor Snape decides that this is the perfect time to abandon his reading and wander around the potions stations. You have about two seconds to send Jace a sharp glare before the man in question is making a dramatic turn towards you - no doubt guided by the admittedly quite detectable cloud of smoke exhaling right in front of you.

Jace pales a few shades before ducking his head, fumbling awkwardly with the wooden spoon before dipping it into the bubbling (and, to your shameless envy, much closer to the correct colour) mixture in his cauldron, pretending very poorly to find his own potion extremely interesting.

Arms crossed behind him and head held proudly high, Professor Snape floats across the floor like an ominous kelpie in his long black robes billowing - only breaking his scenic gliding when he’s hovering right next to you.

You swallow, throat suddenly dry at the unwelcome presence, staring at the bubbling disaster inside your cauldron as lace your fingers together in front of you.

"Tell me, Miss Fawley," he begins in his dull, gravelly voice, making you sway on your feet in nervous apprehension, "what is the Draught of Peace potion for?"

You splutter before answering.

"The Draught of Peace potion is a calming potion, Professor. Commonly used to alleviate anxiety and agitation."

If he is pleased with your answer, he doesn't show it at all, still shadowing your body with his sour aura.

"What are the main ingredients in this potion?"

"Huh, moonstone, syrup of hellebore, powdered porcupine quills and powdered unicorn horn, Professor." You are quicker to answer this time, noticing out of the corner of your eye the proud smile that Jace hides very poorly as he continues to unnecessarily mix his own potion as a form of disguise.

"Hmm. Now tell me, Miss Fawley..." Somehow your correct answers only seem to make the man more and more dissatisfied. "What color should the potion be once it's ready?"

"Turquoise blue, sir." You mutter with an embarrassed sigh, knowing full well where he was leading with this.

"And what's inside the cauldron appears to be turquoise blue to you, Miss Fawley?"

You feel your cheeks darken, looking sheepishly at the steaming, greenish mess inside your cauldron, murky and thick like the swamp waters in the deepest part of the Forbidden Forest - a large bubble rising to the festering surface to burst with a 'pop' that only adds another whiff of stench to the surroundings.

"No, sir."

"No, indeed."

He immediately emphasizes, sending you a sharp, cold look before lowering his gaze to the bubbling mixture with an exorbitant amount of disgust on his face as wrinkles his nose.

"I must say I'm impressed, in a way. It takes some talent to ruin a potion so spectacularly." His frown deepens as he sees the mossy goo threaten to spill out of the sides of the cauldron, moving almost like a living thing at this point.

"Maybe with ten points less for your house you'll find some inspiration to try to use this supposed talent and do it right next time."

He doesn't wait for your answer, abruptly turning his body to leave, as if you've exhausted his patience for the day, the movement making his black cloak flutter exaggeratedly as he walks away.

At the potions station next door, a pair of Hufflepuffs do a very poor job of hiding their giggles at what had just happened, which only makes your cheeks burn more intensely in embarrassment and your mood sour to critical levels.

As if to cement his position as the most happily absorbed person in the school, Jace decides to open his mouth.

"Isn't it hilarious how a potion that should, in theory, relieve anxiety and agitation has caused so much stress?" He breathes in amusement, biting his lip to contain a more exaggerated burst of laughter, as if he had told the biggest joke of all. The amusement, however, abruptly fades the moment he lifts his head to find your narrow, sharp eyes staring at him. "Uh, I mean - actually - forget what I said, you know, it's not hilarious at all..." he pauses between the endless babbling to take a breath. "Godric, is this lesson ever going to end?"

With a roll of your eyes, you turn away from him, glaring at the other potions stations with a resentful scowl as you slump onto the stool next to the table, propping your elbow on the wooden surface with a defeated thud, chin resting in your palm.

A few more students whisper and snigger behind their fingers as they glance sideways at you. You glare back at them with your best expression of silent outrage, daring them to say something to your face.

Honestly, so what if you’re not a natural at Potions? So what if your Draught of Peace didn’t turn out exactly as planned? It was an extremely complex potion, even for seventh years — and anyone with eyes could tell that half the class was struggling with the same thing you were. So why was it that you were the only one getting all this special treatment?

Be average at one thing and count on the rest of the school to ignore all the other things you excel at. Talk about unfair.

A silvery spiral of hissing smoke swirls across your line of vision, drawing your grumpy attention to the potions station on the other side of the classroom.

Before you know who it belongs to, you make sure to take about three seconds to part your lips and admire with a certain amount of distinct envy the clearly flawless result of the potion. At least until your eyes lock with his gaze from behind the cauldron and your expression wilts like a trampled flower. As if on cue, the very lighting in the room seems to change, casting an almost ethereal glow over the figure standing beyond the silver veil.

And if having visual proof that Aemond Targaryen was doing astronomically better than you at something wasn’t bad enough, it was even more despairing to realize that he was already looking at you.

He wasn't making any fuss about it, something that couldn't be said for the other students in the room. In fact, some might not even notice any change in his usual stoic and arrogant attitude. But to you, it was clear. He was there, with the sleeves of his white dress shirt carefully rolled up to his elbows as he stirred the spoon in his potion, staring intently at you from behind that veil of silvery shine, with an almost imperceptible playful tug on the left side of his lips, the only visible eye shining with silent provocation.

He saw everything.

The blush runs down your neck like a bucket of scalding water, but you quickly try to cover up your disgrace with an icy glare and a proud turn of your nose, meeting his gaze with a defiance that you, theoretically, would have no morals to uphold in this particular case. But Merlin curse you before you let this platinum weasel humiliate you in any way.

Not anymore.

Your reaction unfortunately only makes him more confident in his passive aggressive teasing, which almost elicits a heated snarl from your lips. And for a moment of guilty pleasure, you slyly entertain the idea of ​​throwing an accio at his hideously green tie and pulling his face, along with that cold smirk, into the perfectly bubbling cauldron below.

The thought does a good job of dispelling some of the sourness in your mood, and you manage to keep yourself mostly under control, even when he raises an eyebrow and looks appraisingly at the chaos of smoke and stench unfolding just behind your body.

Giving due credit to your hunch that Aemond is, in fact, more annoying and insufferable than any living Cornish pixies, you sigh impatiently, shifting your body in front of your potion as if you could hide it from his judgmental gaze - which, of course, is a futile effort, since the toxic and very evident smoke is already spreading throughout the classroom.

It’s impossible not to find it terribly unfair how you appear to have barely survived a catastrophic encounter with a forest troll while he remains as aristocratic and composed as the Slytherin Prince everyone fawningly claims he is. It’s truly an inconvenience that someone as despicable as him can look so good without even trying — even with his long hair slightly disheveled around his face and shoulders, his porcelain-smooth skin flushed with sweat. If anything, these unusual details only add a touch of disorder to his otherwise immaculate beauty that makes him all the more captivating to the eye.

Good heavens, if someone’s going to be as much of a jerk as he is, at least have the decency to not be so easy on the eyes.

Which is only proven when you look away for a second and catch a few girls sighing and smiling shyly in his direction, the steam and humidity making their own hair look as bristly as rats’ nests on their heads.

You suppose you should feel grateful to any higher creature that your fiancé is someone so attractive. But it turns out you don’t.

Yes. Aemond Targaryen would be your future husband. And yes, that is the bane of your existence.

As one of the families of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, your parents decided your love story long ago, making a magical contract with Viserys Targaryen around the time you were about six years old and believed that marriage was when a boy and a girl held hands and walked together in the park. Even before that, you had been raised and molded to be the perfect bride; immaculate and uncultivated time and again with elegant manners and a perfectly controlled temper to propagate the impeccable reputation of your family as an endless legacy.

The only relief you had came from the very selfish pleasure in repeatedly frustrating your parents' expectations with your naturally hot-tempered and bold personality.

But that was all the rebellion you could achieve. Unfortunately, the right to choose your own destiny did not belong to you. It never did.

The arrangement between you was a deal neither of you could escape, a mutual benefit that both families would never give up, a difficult means to a grand end: your family would have the immense honor of being linked to the ancient and very influential name of the Targaryens and they, in return, would finally have the golden key to bring their influence into the Ministry, since your family had always been involved in politics - a fact that only solidified when your father was elected the new Minister of Magic.

Aemond, your arranged fiancé, was a pure-blood Targaryen, the crown of wizarding royalty, along with the Velaryons and the Blacks. By all accounts, it should have been a source of immense honor and joy to be the glue that would bind your family to his in such a fortunate arrangement. And your fiancé was a good match, all in all: handsome, charming, and obscenely wealthy.

But he was also cold, indifferent, and even mean at times.

And, of course, he hated you.

Aemond had always been so cruel, so harsh with his words on the few, isolated occasions when any verbal interaction had occurred. You knew he was as unhappy as you were about the marriage arrangement, but you had at least made some effort to be polite about the inevitable future that hung over your heads. You had known from the beginning that this was not a romantic arrangement and probably never would be. There was no need for a good prior acquaintance. In fact, the two of you had never met in person until both entered Hogwarts at the age of eleven. But your childish and innocent heart nurtured the hope that the two of you could at least get along and perhaps cultivate some sort of friendship over the years.

He, contrary to any hope you might have had, decided that he would make your life an even bigger hell than it already was since your first meeting in the Great Hall, where he mocked your friendly smile and called you a weird bucktooth in front of the entire school. You could have mocked him back then, laughed at the eye patch he wore on the left side of his face, the grotesque and poorly healed scar on his cheek and forehead from some sort of advanced spell cast against him. But even at that age you knew about limits, unlike the insufferable boy.

Later that night, you learned from Jace that that garish scar was caused by his brother, Lucerys Velaryon, another future Gryffindor who became your friend two years later. A common wand dueling challenge that went horribly wrong for Aemond and created another rift in their already volatile relationship. The advanced curse proved unbreakable, even for the most skilled healers, resulting in the permanent loss of his left eye and a scar that is nearly impossible to heal.

It was surprising enough that this Lucerys, even without having been enrolled at Hogwarts yet, already knew how to use this type of curse. And even more surprising was to discover that the Targaryen and Velaryon children had the habit of challenging each other to wand duels at such a young age, as if it were something normal. It scared you, but it only solidified for you the long-standing reputation of both families as highly talented and fearsome wizards.

That was the first time you felt sad for Aemond Targaryen, ruminating on the mental picture of how difficult his childhood could have been. But you quickly covered the softened feeling with the hurt memory of what he made you go through in front of all those people that very day.

Even after that burning humiliation, however, you made an effort to approach him cautiously at times, but the almost hateful coldness with which he looked at you since that first meet did not change much over time. And yes, maybe you were an inconvenience in general. A part of his life that he couldn’t shake off and it frustrated him. But he was exactly like that to you too and that didn’t make you act like had a shoe up your ass.

Eventually, and fueled by the sheer outrage of being so blatantly blocked and ridiculed for no logical reason, since you were as much a slave to this contract as he was, you decided that Aemond Targaryen could go fuck himself for what concerns you.

And so, a heated rivalry was born.

True, over time, that overt hatred and the obvious grimaces of revulsion on his boyish features gave way to a softer kind of icy indifference on his face; now decidedly more masculine and grown-up. He learned to be more discreet about his feelings for you (the lack thereof, to be more precise), with more elegant and aristocratic manners - but you never let your guard down around him again.

And you hated how much you thought about him sometimes, especially after the sudden growth spurt he’d gone through, spending hours late into the night remembering the sharp curve of his jaw or how piercing his gaze was when focused.

Aemond wasn’t thinking about you, not in the same way you thought about him. He probably only thought about you when he wanted to practice an attack, imagining it was your face on the training dummy as he threw diffindo after diffindo at the poor thing.

Merlin knew you did that sometimes too, always ending your private training with a tired but satisfied smile after imagining him taking all those spells to the chest instead of the ridiculous mental replay of your fingers sliding along the dagger-sharp line of his jaw as you kissed him breathlessly.

Heavens, you despised him so much.

Determined not to let this man get any more reaction out of you, you hold his gaze for just a few seconds longer - long enough to let out an elegant puff of air through your nose and a tedious flutter of your eyelashes before turning your head away from him.

Bracing your mind (and stopping yourself from casting a hex on the man instead) you focus your magic and all your attention on the cauldron, putting a definitive end to the steaming mess inside it with a whispered charm only in your mind.

"Wow! You're getting better at nonverbal and wandless spells every day, that's incredible!" A curly-haired Jace, electrified around his face, gasps in front of you, genuinely impressed by your feat, even though he himself (as well as your annoyingly talented future husband) already mastered nonverbal and wandless spells before you even learned how to master them decently verbally and with a wand. You feel your face heat up at the compliment anyway, pleased that someone admires the colossal effort you’ve been putting into perfecting your technique.

Although students learn some nonverbal spells from sixth year onwards, wandless spells weren’t officially taught at the school, and you had to raid the restricted section of the library once or twice to find the very few books that contained some information and ways to master the technique. And it was a challenging and exhausting technique, to say the least.

“Come on, be useful and tell me how you made your potion instead of just standing there fawning over me.” You wave your hand at him indifferently, as if it were no big deal, even though a smug smile is twitching your lips.

Jace smiles back at you, bright and looking even prouder than you, picking up his own notes to begin explaining.

-----

“Dear fiancée,” a voice hums behind you as you reach for the book high on the shelf, the word fiancée rolling off his tongue with such melodramatic emphasis that it almost makes you roll your eyes to the back of your head in response. Merlin bless your exquisite upbringing for keeping you calm when it really matters.

“Oh, it’s you.” You don’t even try to hide the disdain in your tone, as any good lady would, casually pulling the book out as you turn to him. He wouldn’t buy your lies anyway. It’s well known how shrewd and perceptive the damn man can be, after all.

“It seems so. Disappointed?” Aemond asks, a sharp, subtle smile gracing his lips, looking far too pleased for someone whose presence is so blatantly unwelcome. He knows perfectly well that yes, you’re disappointed.

It’s late now, and besides the two of you now, there are only a small handful of Ravenclaw students on the other side of the library — even Madam Irma Pince is more lethargic from the day’s fatigue, sitting near her desk as she reviews some papers. You definitely don’t have the patience to deal with Aemond.

“Never. To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask with a sweet smile that does nothing to hide your displeasure at seeing him. After the fiasco of your performance in Potions Class, you had the privilege of not hearing from him for a few days. But of course, your luck wouldn’t last forever. “It’s not often that you grace me with your presence.” He’s approaching you slowly, arms crossed behind him, all his glorious, imposing self, and you make the mistake of taking a nervous step back to a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Damn. What did he want now?

“What?” He asks simply, completely calm, and something flickers behind his gaze at the words. “Can’t I check on my fiancée without it looking suspicious?”

“I see,” you say as you take another step back, your heart skipping a beat when you feel the bookshelf at your back. His proximity makes your breathing quicken slightly, but you swallow and hold his gaze. “Well, I’m perfectly fine, as you can see. So if that’s all it is…”

“Not really. You see, I don’t want to be described as a negligent partner.”

The sheer audacity of his statement makes you drop your carefully crafted facade, a wry laugh falling from your lips.

“Oh of course, because you’re always so attentive, aren’t you?” you ask teasingly, the sour smile still stretching your mouth. “The polite way you can barely stand me is especially endearing, I might add.”

"I suppose so,” he retorts unaffectedly, enjoying pushing your buttons — though he’s letting the tension that always builds when you’re around each other get the better of him. “We’re engaged, after all. And that’s my duty, as a son. Your duty as a daughter.”

“Oh, but it’s a heavy duty indeed,” you say as raise your nose in affront, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as you notice the glaring height difference between the two of you. “But someone who makes such a point of bragging about the elegance and good manners with which he was raised should do better at carrying that burden, don’t you agree? He should be able to at least fake it without much effort.” The last words were more of a hiss than anything else, and he chuckled in response.

“Oh, yes,” he mused casually as closed the distance between you. “The upbringing part really grates on your nerves, doesn’t it? Or is it the similarity to the practices of the Dark Arts thing now? Forgive me, my dear, but I’ve lost count of all the things you openly despise about me.”

Something tightens in your chest. Something dreadful and expectant at the same time, anxiety and anticipation at the prospect of a point of confusion. What did he mean, anyway? Trust Aemond, of course, to resort to riddles and fog when it comes to open conversation.

“Consider marrying you one more thing I despise,” you say quietly. There’s an endless supply of comments to throw at him. It’s incredibly easy to conjure up reasons to dislike this man. But it’s made all the more real by the way he makes you feel, all burning and needy for something that will never truly be yours.

Aemond has the audacity to look almost offended when you say this, his expression falling dangerously close to somber.

What the hell is wrong with him?

His usual stoicism and cold demeanor make any display of emotion beyond that a rare occurrence. And you feel unequipped to understand the complexity of what’s going on.

“I’m afraid that, despise or not, this needs to be done,” he says, as icy as ever, even with his expression dark as it is. “And wouldn’t you say it’s past time we started this pretense?” His question is unsettling on so many levels that even as he rests his forearm on the shelf above your head and leans his face close to yours, all you can do is blink up at him.

He couldn’t possibly be implying what you think, right? But when he smiles condescendingly at your alarmed expression and uses his other hand to grip your waist, you know he is.

“T-there’s no need at all,” you say quickly, dazed by the feel of his long fingers on you, his face leaning close to yours. “This is just a duty we can learn to deal with in the future.”

He hums thoughtfully at your answer, that dangerous shadow still in his one good eye, the silky silver curtain of his hair brushing the side of your face. You subtly inhale his scent; green apples, leather and heat, something refreshing and warming at the same time.

“Should I be worried about you fulfilling such duties with someone else?”

Your eyes narrow at him, the fingers tightening the book in response.

“What do you mean?” Your voice is equal parts curious and a warning.

“What is Cregan Stark to you?”

At the mention of the other man, your stomach sinks a little. It doesn’t take much investigation to understand why he’s suddenly interested in this.

“Cregan? He’s…a good friend.” You struggle to answer, though you feel like you should just leave him alone here in this secluded hallway of the library, avoid the uncomfortable topic of this conversation.

“Just a good friend?” He asks, his cold, hard gaze locked with yours, his grip on your waist tightening.

“What?”

It was clear that Aemond was carefully considering his next words, expression thoughtful as he crafting his answer to you.

“The portraits gossip.”

Yes, you knew.

A few days ago, after a Gryffindor Quidditch victory, the common room was filled with students celebrating. It was the biggest party you had attended in a long time. There was drinking, music, shouting, kissing, and even a few students crowding into a corner for a rather indiscreet sex session.

It was a such mess.

It didn’t take long for your own drinking to take effect, making you more uninhibited and reckless than usual. Cregan, the captain of the team, whose interest in you had always been obvious to everyone, even with your well known arrangement with Aemond, was there when you felt the vibration of alcohol in your veins - that fire that tells you that you are capable of doing anything and, before you could think better of it, you were already making out with him in a small alcove in the common room.

Despite the alcohol, Cregan guided you with passion and desire, biting your neck and lips as he told you how much had waited for this. You didn't love him, nor did you even have any romantic feelings for him. But those words along with the needy touches inevitably made you think of your future husband, the one who so vehemently hated you. And that was the last straw. Before the night was over, you had Cregan Stark buried deep in your pussy until then untouched by any man. It hurt at first, but you don't even think he realized that you were a virgin, as drunk as you both were, reciting hoarse words of praise in your ear while holding you as if he never wanted to let you go.

The next morning, in addition to a splitting headache, you were weighed down by the crushing weight of regret. Not only had you given your first time to someone you had no real feelings for, but you had also deceived a good man in the process. It had been the hardest conversation of your life, and seeing the disappointment on Cregan’s handsome, hopeful face had devastated you so much that you had to take the day off to lock yourself in dormitory and cry with guilt.

And to make matters worse, when you finally emerged into the world, you learned that the entire school already knew about your one-night stand with Cregan Stark. Apparently Muldoon Cragg’s portrait, one of the former Gryffindor Headmasters, wasted no time in leaving his post and gossiping about seeing the House Captain and the renowned Miss Fawley clinging like roots of the same tree in the hallways, stripping each other of their clothes as they ran to the man's dormitory.

Now, see, although you would have preferred to keep such matters private, your shame was not because they had discovered that you had had sex. Your only regret was that, in your moment of emotional weakness and hatred for having Aemond Targaryen as your fiancé, you had hurt someone as incredible as Cregan.

Merlin knows how common it was for students to be having sex at your age, even those who already had an established marital commitment, as you have with Aemond.

In the wizarding world, it was common to be promised to another person from a young age within the great pure-blood families and Hogwarts had some cases like these. Despite the verbal magical contract made between the heads of the families, the bond between the couple itself would only be made official after graduation, when a magical vow between them would be made and their magics linked to each other forever - the magic of the vow preventing them from being with anyone other than their spouse.

But until that day came, it wasn't uncommon for a mutual understanding to be established between the young couple, freeing both of them to 'enjoy' their single moments while they could. There was usually no hard feelings or big fuss about it, especially since, most of the time, there were no real feelings on either side. Therefore, there was also no jealousy.

Aemond himself, according to the gossip of some students, was no exception to this rule.

And that's why you stare at him, open-mouthed, trying hard not to interpret anything the wrong way. Because, heavens, he couldn't possibly be thinking of judging you, could he?

"I didn't anything wrong," you begin cautiously, but Aemond frustrates you with an ironic snort. "But whatever happened, it doesn't concern you, Targaryen."

He laughs humorlessly, his thumb stroking your waist slowly, his face hovering above yours as you both practically breathe the same air.

“For what it’s worth, this concerns me more than anyone else, princess.” Though he remains calm and casual, there’s a sharp bite in his voice, in his gaze. “After all, it’s my reputation that’s being tarnished by your promiscuous behavior.”

You stare at him in bewilderment, unable to believe his audacity. The blood begins to boil in your veins, heating your cheeks and neck with both anger and shame at his words, the magic in your veins reacting to emotional turmoil.

“Promiscuous behavior? Oh, how dare you?” You practically hiss at him, clutching the book between your fingers so tightly that the cover creaks. “That’s rich coming from someone with your notoriety.”

You’re furious, and he’s so close and your breath mingles with his, the smug bastard, his gaze glowing with the same fire you feel…

“It’s just whispers in the hallways.” He exhales with a disinterested shrug, invading your personal space as if he had any right to do so, so close that you can smell the leather eye patch he wears.

"What the hell do you mean it's just whispers in the halls? A few days ago Alys Rivers was singing loud and clear to the entire castle about the sexual exploits you two did after Quidditch practice, don't act like I'm an idiot or something!"

"And what's the proof that this actually happened?" He asks you so casually that for a good minute you just stare at him with your mouth open, not having an immediate answer to his indifferent question. "It's just rumors, princess. In the end, it's going to be her word against mine."

"More like the word of half the female population of the castle against yours, you hypocrite." You growl when you recover, looking at him as if you could set him on fire with just that. Your nonverbal magic isn't all that great yet, but maybe...

"And there's still no proof. Other than words, none of them have any evidence that I was actually there. I've made sure of that." Aside from the burning gaze on yours, Aemond shows little emotion in his argument, crumpling your uniform shirt to caress your belly with his open palm, as if this weren't at all shocking. "But you, you let yourself be caught. You let them have proof of your filthy deeds with that mutt Stark. I must say, your standards are critical low, sweetheart."

The comment, delivered so easily, leaves you breathless. You try to ignore the pangs of anxious curiosity that run through you at his touching your body in favor of the unnerving accusations he’s making. He remains impassive in the face of your volcanic attitude, waiting patiently above you.

“Merlin, you’re so annoying! Understand that you have no right to berate me! And don’t you dare talk about my standards, you don’t know me, you asshole!” You growl in exasperation, squirming under his strong grip, finally trying to escape the strategic hold. But Aemond must have some sort of Whomping Willow ancestry, because the man simply won’t back down.

“I wonder how you could have allowed a dim witted troll like Stark to put those filthy hands on your body.” Contrary to the absurd weight behind his statement, he seems almost possessive as he speaks, insane as the concept was, restraining your efforts by gripping your wrists between the fingers of one hand, using the other to push you against the tall bookshelf by the shoulder. The two of you, caught up in this confrontation as you are, barely hear the loud thud of the book falling to the floor as it slips from your fingers.

Ignoring the unnerving restraint and the open insult to Cregan, this time you actually laugh at his words, amused by their stupid and uncalled-for implication.

"And should I allow you to put your hands on me, Targaryen? Tell me how exactly that would be better?"

He breathes close, staring at you with steely eye and tight lips, the knuckles on your shoulder sliding to caress the throbbing pulse at the side of your neck in an almost unconscious gesture. Something turbulent bubbles in that single visible eye, the peculiar purple color that is inherent to Targaryens appearing darker than usual as he maps every inch of your face. When he finally speaks, you already feel like your heart might leap out of your chest, such is the tension between the two of you.

“You may hate me, beautiful, but I am still your fiancé,” he murmurs with measured slowness, the menacing timbre of his voice making you shiver with the suspicious prelude of what is to come. “Soon we'll be married and united forever and then I'll have you as many times as it takes.” As if to prove his point, he slowly pushes your joined hands to the bookshelf above your head, pressing his body against yours until you feel every heated, hard inch of him. “I will fill you every day and every night until it sink into that pretty head that you're mine. I should have started doing that already."

There's a slight huskiness to his voice and heat pulses through your core and the back of your neck at the explicit picture he's painting with his words. Your cheeks burn and your eyes flutter wide at the boldness of him, the sheer audacity of saying something so lewd to you when he's barely taken time to have any kind of interaction with you before tonight.

And yet, it takes a grueling mental battle to try, and lose, not to imagine him doing exactly what he's saying — taking your body night after night, filling your pussy with his seed until you're leaking from it.

And then you hear Madam Pince's delicate footsteps approaching.

"Kids, it's time to go, we're closing for the night."

And as if waking from some strange dream, you blink rapidly, giving Aemond a rude shove — and this time, mercifully, he complies.

Madam Pince rounds the corner of bookshelf you’re both in at the same time he takes a few steps back, though he still stubbornly holds your gaze.

When you refuse to maintain eye contact any longer, chest rising and falling faster than you’d like, you can feel the fingers trembling as push a strand of hair behind your ear.

You barely hear what Madam Pince says, staggering toward the library exit with hurried steps, bumping into a few students who are taking the same route as you.

“Hey, watch out!” one of them yells when you basically push him as try to climb the stairs, but you, in an uncharacteristic display of rudeness, don’t even register the complaint. All you can think about is how embarrassed and small you feel right now; how you allowed Aemond to put you in a situation where you looked so weak, so exposed.

All those years of hardening your feelings and expectations for that horrible creature and he puts it all in check in one night.

"Idiot, idiot, idiot..." You mumble over and over, walking through corridors and pillars without having the slightest idea of ​​where you're trying to go. "Such an idiot." Who? You, him, both of you - it doesn't matter.

You hate him. So much. The smug, arrogant way he does literally everything; from his penchant for brilliance in absolutely every class, to the discreet smiles he displays when he's showing off in the air during Quidditch matches - even the way he breathes.

You hate him.

And you especially hate how hot he's doing these things.

Amidst the hurried footsteps, you hear another one approaching quickly; quieter, feline - and you don't even need to turn around to know who it is.

"Leave me alone, Targaryen! I've already exhausted my patience quota for you tonight." You huff, practically running down the hallway now.

He remains silent and you almost think he's going to do exactly as you asked, until a scream leaves your lips as feel your elbow suddenly being grabbed by a strong hand, pulling you inside one of the hallway doors.

"What your fucking problem?! Let me go!" Your voice is sharp as you try to pull away from his grip.

"You." He answers sullenly, pushing your back against the door with a heavy thud, slapping both hands on it, one on either side of your face, to prevent you from escaping. You stare at him in surprise, both of you breathing quickly. "You're my fucking problem. You and your annoying, inconvenient stubbornness."

"I told you to stop talking like you know anything about me." You hiss at him, resentment and emotional turmoil guiding your actions until you stand on your tiptoes and almost touch the nose to his as you speak. "You. Don't. Know. Me."

"Yes, I do." He amends instantly and you fall silent only at the unsettling dose of confidence in his voice. "I know you wake up earlier than the other girls in the dorm so you have time to stroll along the shores of the Black Lake while it's still completely empty - because it gives you a feeling of calm and prepares you to face the rest of the day. I know you like dancing in the rain, despite McGonagall’s constant disapproval. I know you love Care of Magical Creatures, even though it’s an elective class, and you’re considering a future career in that department, despite your family’s vehement political expectations.”

You swallow hard, releasing the pressure on your feet to sag back down against the floor and the door with a surprised gasp, but Aemond is quick to lean closer to you, chasing proximity like a Niffler chasing shiny things.

“I know, and you know that you’re an absolute disaster at Potions, but you’re too stubborn to admit it. You're addicted to chocolate frogs, but you're also strangely sensitive to them, so you always wait for the charm end and they stop jumping before eat them - which, of course, makes no sense, since the part where they jump on belly is the most fun." He sighs a laugh and steps even closer, practically trapping you in the doorway with his own body.

And, Merlin help you, he's so close.

His breath, warm and pleasantly sweet, as if he'd recently eaten licorice wands, blows across your face with each ragged breath. His pale, smooth skin is highlighted by a single moonbeam from the opposite stone wall, which also bathes the icy blond of his hair in a mythical way that makes the silky strands shine like silver threads running down his broad shoulders. His eye, a deep, appraising purple, don't leave your eyes for even a second. His scent, citrusy and masculine, invades your senses until all you can feel is him. Only him.

Not even now having a clear, detailed look at that barely healed scar for the first time, could you describe him in any other way than charming. Ethereal, like a creature from a fairy tale or beautiful songs.

“I know you like the pumpkin pie they serve for breakfast, but you think Pixie Puffs are an overrated cereal, whatever that means. And even if no one else noticed, I know you were the one who cast that Tarantallegra on Martyn Reyne just as he was about to turn Oscar Tully into a pulp during the last Quidditch match. And with a wandless charm, to boot. The man was tap-dancing uncontrollably in the Slytherin common room for a whole day after that, princess. It was infuriating to watch.”

“Aemond -” You’ve never heard him speak so much - not to anyone and certainly not to you. You can’t help but sigh, chest heaving at both the words and the resigned weight of admiration in them. And the shock of hearing the name, his name, leave your lips for the first time in your life makes you blush to the roots of hair. But Aemond only feels emboldened by this, his gaze darkening and a muscle jumping in his jaw before he continues.

“I know you’ve despised this marriage contract since you were six and was forced into it, but you still want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you now.” He hovers over you, reaching down with his open hand on the door to brush a few strands of hair out of your eyes; long, cold fingers brushing the delicate curve of your ear.

You choke out a surprised sound and feel your eyes widen, caught off guard exactly like a student caught wandering around the castle after bedtime by some prefect. Aemond’s eyebrows rise, his own gaze burning in silent challenge as he waits for your answer. You open your mouth, but no matter how much you want to, and know you should be denying his outrageous insinuations, no words escape your suddenly dry throat.

“I dare you to deny it,” he murmurs in a voice like heated molasses when you still don’t say anything, leaning his face down to brush his lips against your ear. “Come on baby. If you dare, do it."

And then, in a lapse of judgment and sanity (and instinctively reacting to a challenge he has issued), you do.

There are no glares or scathing retorts to the question raised. There is just you acting impulsively.

You are jumping in Aemond immediately, tugging his green tie down to urge him into a bruising kiss. For a moment he smiles hatefully smugly against your mouth, but before you can regret what you have done and pull away, he pushes you back against the door with more force, slamming you into the aged wood as if to fuse you to it.

You release his tie in favor of desperately grabbing a handful of his shirt, the fingers of other hand digging into the soft flesh of his neck to bring him deeper into your lips. As he ravages your mouth with fervent desire, the world around you seems to deflate and disappear in the shadows, leaving only the electrifying connection between the two of you. Every brush of his lips against yours sets a firestorm of sensation, each touch crawling through your soul with an insatiable hunger for more.

There are no gentle, tender, or exploratory kisses; he kisses you assertively, surely, with ownership. As if he’s imagined doing this for a lifetime. He sinks both hands into the sides of your face, tilting your head back as runs his tongue over your lips, asking for entrance, and you welcome him.

And, unsurprisingly, kissing Aemond is like every other interaction you’ve ever had with him. Heated, intense, filled with tension. He sucks on your tongue and licks it right after, his teeth even brushing lightly yours sometimes - not in an awkward, painful way; but in a way that conveys his hunger for it, his possessiveness.

As you’d imagined, he tastes like the crystallized sugar of licorice wands; a perfectly balanced contrast to his citrusy scent of green apples and crackling wood from a fireplace. It’s an addictive balance that makes you shiver and grip him tighter between your fingers.

He pulls back a little to nibble on your bottom lip, teasing it between his teeth before sucking it in too. Then he fits his lips fully against yours once more, swallowing the wet, heated sound that leaves your throat.

It’s like you’re floating and sinking at the same time, feeling his hands leave your face to pull you closer by the hips, the kisses becoming more and more heated.

With a low, frustrated growl, he suddenly releases you, but not for long. Gripping your hips tighter, he lifts you up, and with a small yelp of surprise, your legs instinctively wrap around him. He cranes his head to continue the kiss as he spins you toward a table in the corner of the room, slipping between your legs as soon as he sits you down.

His mouth moves to your neck, heated and wet, sucking the sensitive flesh to leave marks you would be resenting if you were in your full mental capacity. But as it is, your eyes only flutter in response as you half watch the dust particles shimmer in the air in that small crack of moonlight, small involuntary sighs falling from your lips. His hand slides down your spine to belly, rising to tease the rise of your breast and the delicate slope of neck, the rings spread on his cold fingers poking the skin as he presses your throat lightly and you shiver.

Teeth rise to graze languidly against your ear and lips burn against your skin. How could he be so intense and yet remain so calm?

"Let me show you how it should be. Do it better for you than he did, leave you truly satisfied." He whispers like a lewd secret and even you're though sitting you feel the knees trembling, your heart fluttering at the speed of the delicate wings of a golden snitch.

"And who said he couldn't satisfy me?" You bluff breathlessly, barely able to admit the truth to yourself - much less to him. Not because Cregan didn't actually make it good for you. He did, you suppose. Caring for your pleasure as best he could. But any sense of satisfaction was drowned out by the weight of guilt and the unsettling feeling that it just didn't feel right...not with him.

"Oh, my treasure. With the raw way I crave you, I find it very unlikely that anyone could be as eager to please you as I am - much less a common mutt like Cregan Stark." The rough timbre of his voice vibrates through you and the air grows tense, your skin crawling at the feel of his other hand sliding down your thigh. "Just say yes and I'll prove it to you."

You don't answer him, not with words. But you think your round, needy eyes might have told him something, because he leans in until his mouth is a hair’s breadth from yours, staring at you as if he’s very pleased with what sees. He closes the distance to lick your mouth slowly and, after moving to put enough space between your bodies, uses the hand on your waist to pull you to the edge of the table.

The hand on your thigh moves to slide under your skirt until it plays with the side of the waistband of your panties. You suck in a ragged breath, nervously bracing both hands on the table as you bite your lip.

Those fingers, long and cold, curl into the elastic at your crotch, bunching the fabric to make it brush against your clit once, twice, three times, before you fix him with a drunken, narrowed gaze — a signal to stop teasing, and he chuckles close to your lips.

He takes the hint, though, and dips his thumb into your entrance. The violation of just one digit is surprising and not enough at the same time, and you writhe to make that point clear as you throw your head back, gasping a sound of pleasure. He takes his time, pressing his thumb in and out at the slowest pace imaginable, his signet ring tickling your entrance with each thrust. You moan a little louder and can feel, even without seeing, the infuriating smile of triumph he wears in response.

“You look like want something, hmm?” he drawls, molding his lips to the soft curve of your throat. Your hand releases its death grip on the table to push at his shoulders, even though the thrust is too weak to be taken seriously. When he chuckles in amusement at your action, you lift the head to look at him, noticing how swollen his lips are from kissing you so damn much.

“Come on, ask nicely for what you need from me, beautiful.” He whispers and instead of giving what you want so much, moves his thumb inside you with movements so light that only serve to increase the flame of desire, but never quench it.

But two can play that game, you realize, pursing your lips and huffing elegantly before looking across the room.

Aemond clucks his tongue in disapproval.

“Everything has to be a fight with you, doesn’t it?” His thumb drifts lazily away from your folds, leaving you feeling unbearably empty. You whimper at the loss, but he doesn’t give you a chance to protest. Aemond grips your chin, forcing you to tilt your head toward him again. Looking so close, you’re forced to face the fact of how small you are compared to his tall, defined frame, the width of his shoulders casting shadows over your smaller body. Your chin slips from his grip and instead he takes your hand in his to guide it down between your legs - a confident, strong grip that leaves no room for resistance.

“Feel this,” his words are harsh as he stares down at you, that single eye flashing in wicked amusement as your body twitches in response. Your mouth falls open in a sharp gasp of surprise as he doesn’t hesitate to guide your own finger and his inside your pussy, not bothering to do it slowly, “Feel how wet you are for me, princess.”

Your finger, delicate and smaller, dips in alongside his longer, wider one, going as deep as it will go — and to your growing humiliation, there actually is a wet mess helping; your trembling, tight walls drooling around the intrusion.

“T-that doesn’t mean…” You sob, widening and contracting around both fingers, “nothing.”

“That means everything, baby.” He smiles in an unnervingly knowing way, fucking your walls with slow, deep strokes, curling your fingers so you feel the difference between them perfectly.

“We shouldn’t — not here of all places. Merlin, d-don’t you have an ounce of decency in your being?” you continue, whimpering pathetically, writhing on the table: "Someone could hear us...a prefect could-"

"You'll have to be very quiet then." He interrupts you casually, although he's panting softly against your lips.

"Heavens, you're so annoying! A-at least cast a silencing charm, idiot!"

"And where's the fun in that? What about the danger, the adrenaline rush of avoiding being caught?" He pretends to ponder, sadistically pleased with your desperate arguments. "Take it as another challenge, princess. Especially after how spectacularly you failed the last one." He hums teasingly and you would growl back at him if you weren't too busy riding your fingers. "Can you be quiet?" He says in that soft, teasing way of his. Like he knows perfectly well that you can't. 

And he's right. 

You have to stifle a moan into his neck as he lifts his thumb to swirl your clit, both fingers working you slowly.

“For all your horrible biting, princess, you are a lovely creature when properly tamed.” His voice is a sigh of awe and hunger, like a worshipper before some masterpiece. You blush several shades, burying your face further into his neck to hide your shame.

“Y-you are even crazier than I imagined, Targaryen. You're sorely mistaken if think you have tam—oh!”

He curls your fingers up suddenly and you gasp, legs twitching and tightening around his waist with undignified desperation. You're beginning to see through blurry lenses, your other hand tangling in his hair for something to anchor yourself to, pulling him closer and closer as the pressure builds with each wet rub against your clit—

And then he’s pulling his fingers out, lifting your joined hands to his mouth, smiling at you as he sucks the both fingers into his mouth like they’re a sweet treat he’s been waiting all day to taste. 

Merlin, what must it be like to know you’re the hottest man in the world?

The irritation at having your near orgasm interrupted is overshadowed by the sinful sight ahead of you, your parted lips and lazy gaze.

You catch a glimpse of his pink tongue licking between your upraised fingers and your legs tighten around him, unconsciously trying to ease the sensual pressure between them.

“You’re the most insufferable creature I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting in my life and I-” You start grumpily but breathlessly, stopping slowly when he slides his fingers from his mouth to straighten himself in front of you, tugging at the button on his pants. You sit up straighter on the table, wide eyes fixed on the broad hand undoing his pants. Veiny hand. Long pale fingers adorned with gold and silver rings, the Targaryen insignia gleaming from the signet ring on his thumb.

“A-and I hate you so much. Ardently." You sigh mechanically and vaguely, noting with heated embarrassment a wet spot on the crotch of his pants.

“Me too, princess…” he hums smugly, taking his sweet time to unzip his pants and pull them down slightly, along with his boxer briefs, just enough to free his straining cock. “Ardently.”

Your shoulders slump and your tongue darts out to wet your lips at the sight of his aching, weeping cock. It’s long — much longer than you expected, anyway — and thick. Pre-cum drips from the flushed tip and his cock bobs under your shy scrutiny.

"I-I," you try, humiliatingly lacking the sarcastic words to ridicule him at this moment, and Aemond - bathed in masculine pride and arrogance - drags his palm over the moisture pooling on the head of his cock and spreads it along the veiny shaft. "Fuck, don't you dare say anything now."

He doesn't need to, though - just his smirk tells you enough - and almost a little too spitefully, you grab the tails of his dress shirt, tugging at the fabric until the sound of ripping is heard, the poor buttons rudely ripped from its places to fall bouncing on the stone floor.

Moonlight bathes the soft, marble skin of his throat, chest and abdomen, an endless, sinful expanse of lean, defined muscle covered in a few paler scars - some larger and more evident than others.

The dazzling scene before you pauses for a second as you focus on them, the almost worrying amount.

Where did he get them? How? In duels? Or some kind of archaic and horrific method of punishment?

He doesn’t let you dwell on it too much, though, striding confidently towards you until your attention returns to where it belongs; and while Cregan was all about thick muscles and an intimidating body, Aemond towered over all the other students with his majestic height and lean muscles, with broad shoulders and an elegantly tapered waist. He truly looked the epitome of pure-blood royalty — not that you’d let him know that.

With silver hair falling disheveledly over his shoulders, the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the flaps open on either side of his chest and abdomen, and green tie hanging loosely around his neck, he looked undone in the best possible way. And of course, that air of hungry elegance surrounding him, like a man who knows he’s about to get what he wants.

Aemond, still holding his cock between his fingers, rubs against the wetness between your legs for a few seconds, then uses his thumb to spread your entrance, your panties barely pushed aside. You squeeze around nothing, and he practically sighs in awe at the sight.

“Such a pretty little hole, sweetheart.”

You blush at the vulgarity, holding onto the tail of his shirt for dear life, the other hand latching onto the back of his neck.

With the hand that’s not between your bodies, and much more calmly than you’ve done previously, he unbuttons your dress shirt. He’s skilled at it, much to your silent annoyance — taking each button out of its place with easy precision. And all the while, he doesn’t stop gently thrusting himself between your legs.

And, Merlin, you’re so wet — literally dripping between your legs — so sore, and fuck, you want him so, so bad. But Aemond just rubs the tip of his cock against your clit as he holds your entrance open with his thumb, his gaze intent on the skin that reveals itself when the flaps of your shirt finally part.

“Aemond,” you whimper and he hums questioningly at you, but doesn’t move to do anything other than grind himself against you more, stroking the lacy details of your bra with a cold, hungry gaze.

You make a disgruntled noise and move your hips against him, trying desperately to get him inside you. 

“Ah-ah,” your teeth sink into your bottom lip as he completely covers one of your breasts with his palm in a greedy grip. “Come on, stop teasing me, you idiot insensitive…”

He blithely ignores you, kneading your breast like a cat with a ball of yarn, thrusting at your clit with shallow strokes that only make you hotter and needier, his thumb sliding in to breach the barrier of your entrance once more, just to the first knuckle. You let your upper body fall dramatically backwards, barely supporting yourself on forearms, your head rolling from side to side as you groan in frustration.

“Aemond, fuck. This is the worst time for you to be the most annoying person to ever walk this planet. Don’t make me beg.” 

You can hear the laughter in his voice as he responds. 

“Really?” His tone is proud and playful, as if he doesn’t already have his cock against your clit and a thumb inside you. 

You look up to meet his gaze, and the wry smile that tugs at the corner of his lips infuriates you to no end, because suddenly you realize that this is exactly what he wants.

You swallow your growing pride, temporarily deciding to forgo it in favor of satisfying the erupting volcano that resides in your lower belly. Aemond knows exactly which buttons to push with you, and no matter what you do here, there is no winning. Either you give him the satisfaction of hearing what he wants or the satisfaction of continuing to argue. He lives happily for both. It’s a question of knowing which wars are worth fighting and what the benefits of each are.

“Please, Aemond,” you finally whisper, letting your eyes grow rounder and waterier, giving him your best innocent, needy look, legs spreading wider as you rest your body fully on the table. It’s just your luck that with that movement the moonlight falls entirely on you, on the hair spread across the surface of the dark wood, the redness on your cheeks and heaving chest. “Please, just take me. I-I need this.”

It’s worth giving up your pride just for the wild, unsuspecting look Aemond gives you, lips parted in a husky growl that runs through your body like the most intimate magic.

Almost immediately he withdraws his thumb and lines himself up with your entrance and you cry out in surprise when his palms land on your waist, pulling your ass up to better meet his hips, your smaller hands darting to grip his wrists. He presses his tip into you at an excruciatingly slow pace, his gaze burning into yours with the unstoppable violence of a fiendfyre.

The discomfort of the welcome intrusion burning deliciously when he finally pushes in and — oh. You feel so stretched, and he hasn’t even started. Your lips part in a breathless half-scream, brows furrowing. He pushes a little further and you tense, a glorious, painful kind of pressure searing every nerve. You don’t remember it being like this with Cregan — but maybe that was just another consequence of how drunk you both were that night.

“Is — is it all in?” You ask weakly after what feels like an eternity, your nails destroying his wrists as you struggle for something to hold on to.

“Almost there, baby.” Aemond gasps, stroking your hips as he slowly but steadily drills into you. “You’re doing so good for me.” His lips meet yours in a sloppy, wet kiss that leaves you both breathless and your lips bruised. His own exhales start to end with a moan, and you writhe beneath him. It’s an unfamiliar pleasure to you, the kind where you weren’t sure if it was too much or too little, and Aemond hadn’t even started moving yet.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” He groans into your mouth, grinding himself into you a little more, a half-maniacal and proud grin stretching his lips. “That mutt Stark didn’t do a very good job here, did he?”

“S-shut up!” You snarl, skin burning with embarrassment and anger at his words. “Don’t talk about him like that!”

“Shhh, I’m just kidding.” He smiles and kisses the tip of your nose soothingly, though he doesn’t seem the least bit remorseful.

“You’re doing so well, baby, taking me so fucking well,” he whispers, the words stirring in your stomach and making you forget the irritation immediately, clenching even tighter around him. He stifles a growl, dipping his fingers back between your legs, lightly stroking your swollen clit to ease the sting, and one inch at a time, he finally slides inside until he bottoms out inside you.

Meanwhile, you’re tottering on the fine line between too much and not enough. Aemond is long and solid and thick inside you, and the heat is beyond satisfying. You lie there, breathing rapidly, face flushed and eyelashes fluttering, brows furrowed and mouth open and panting. Nails digging into his wrists, legs shaking as they rise to wrap tightly around his waist.

“Please…” Is all you need to say before he’s making his move, his own face stained with lust and blush. He pulls out halfway before sinking back in, groaning hoarsely at the sensation. You’re already making inelegant gagging noises from deep inside, louder and more embarrassing than you could have imagined yourself capable of.

“Feels good, baby?” he pants, pulling out his cock before slamming it back into you as you sob, the pull of him inside you hitting every nerve and setting them on fire. “My cock feels good to you, love?”

“So good!” You moan more than speak, rocking your hips against his as best you can.

“Hmmm…better than him?”

“Aemond—”

“Answer me.”

You bite your lip, knowing there’s no way you should encourage him to do this kind of behavior. But between the overwhelming sensations he makes you feel and the intense gaze he’s giving you, all that have left is the truth.

“Y-yes. Merlin, yes. So much better...”

“Fuck, princess,” Aemond grunts, changing the angle and grinning wildly when it makes you moan louder. He targets that particular spot, watching the way you arch a little higher with each thrust. The sounds of your skin slapping together make you flush even more, though you barely hear it over Aemond’s ragged breathing and your own moans.

“Aemond—oh,” you gasp desperately, throwing your head back. “I-it feels so good,” you drawl, clawing at his wrists. “Please, please, I can’t take it.”

Then he’s reaching down, fingers twisting the front of your bra, pulling it down so his tongue slowly sweeps over one nipple, enveloping it in the warm, wet blanket of his mouth. The hand between your legs gains momentum and his thumb rolls over your clit as he latches onto your nipple and sucks. A high-pitched scream barely escapes your lips before his hand covers your mouth, continuing his merciless assault.

His hand cups the lower half of your face completely and that only makes your eyes roll back, the weight of his body on yours, his wet mouth on your breast, the restraint of your sounds, his deep thrusts, his thumb on your clit...

Your fingers sink into the silvery roots of his hair in a sharp tug, and the pain makes him gasp against your chest, and you chant his name mindlessly behind his broad palm. Static sizzles through your body, your orgasm building at an insane pace, and you meet him thrust for thrust.

When he looks up, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your nipple, he stares at you so intently it makes you shiver, his thumb in your folds quickening. You run your own trembling thumb along his drooling bottom lip and watch him suck it into his wet, swollen mouth. You linger, touching the sharp tips of his canines, sliding across the softness of his tongue and gums before pulling your hand away. Aemond chases your thumb a little as he leans forward, but stops when you grab the leather strap of his eye patch.

The palm over your lips slowly pulls away, and you breathe in sharply, but don’t flinch. Holding his intense, drunken gaze, you push the thing away from his face, letting it fall to the floor with a thud neither of you cares about.

“Don’t stop, please — I’m so close,” you moan, pushing a few icy-white strands away from his face, wanting to see all of him as you shatters below. Aemond, with one missing eye and a cursed scar; that’s how you first saw him in the Great Hall, and that’s how you want to see him now, too.

If he’s shocked by your actions, he doesn’t show it. He’s still staring at you with a lazy expression, sweat starting to break out on his slightly flushed skin, his thrusts becoming more unbalanced, the rhythm faltering a little.

"Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fill you so fucking much, my wife—” he groans suddenly, the husky sound of his voice completely destroyed, and then he’s down to lock your mouths in a searing kiss, thrusting so hard into your pussy that the table creaks and slides a few inches across the floor.

But it’s the weight of that statement, his wife, spoken so brokenly and stunned, that finally makes you lose control, and your climax hits you.

“Cumming, cumming,” you cry into the tiny gap between your mouths as his rhythm quickens. His name leaves your lips again — muffled and choked — and your back arches off the table. You can feel his cock throb as the walls of your pussy clench and pulse around him with your orgasm.

And then he’s spilling himself into you, heated cum filling you as he still kisses you deeply, mouth wet and insistent. He makes a few rough, breathless noises into your mouth as he comes and you suck his tongue into your mouth, the climax rippling and lingering deliciously through you.

He relaxes the arm that was between your legs as you both lie there panting, coming down from your intense orgasms. Shifting his body slightly to support himself on forearms, he runs lazy, gentle kisses down your neck.

You stay like that for a while, his weight pressing down on you. Silence, except for the sound of each other’s breathing. You haven’t really allowed yourself to process the fact that he’s here; that Aemond, your future husband and sworn enemy, has cornered you tonight and confessed to wanting you despite strong evidence to the contrary. After years of not having a trace of him, he’s here, in the most intimate way possible. You tilt your head to the side to look at him again, to commit his features to memory in case he disappears from you once more.

Feeling your gaze, he does the same, humming contentedly; one calm, soft lavender eye, almost hidden beneath a thick layer of long lashes, the vibrant blue relic in the other eye, brows furrowed in contemplation for a brief moment. His fingers brush against your still flushed cheek, as if mapping out a secret that exists only for him. It doesn’t escape you that he makes no move to leave the wet heat between your legs — his member, still hard somehow, nestled comfortably within your silken walls.

“I’d really rather we didn’t wait until the wedding to do this again.”

His words, almost hesitant at their core, fill you with a kind of cautious anxiety, some foolish, ancient hope, long forgotten and locked away, surfacing once more. Your face burns with heat as you do your best to keep a expression neutral and collected, choosing the usual path when it comes to the two of you:

“If you wanted some kind of serious commitment you should have just said so, Targaryen. I wouldn’t mock your feelings.” You smile softly, blinking teasingly despite your trembling nerves. “Not much.”

He scoffs and roll his eye, though it’s obvious to both of you that you’re not necessarily saying no.

“I was thinking of it more for your own benefit, insufferable girl,” he grumbles sullenly. “You clearly didn’t have a good first experience and I just think it would be really tragic if you had to wait months to experience something so heavenly good as what I just offered you.”

You huff and press your face into his neck, failing miserably to suppress a laugh.

He’s so full of shit.

“I thought you hated me, anyway.”

“And I did.” He hums nonchalantly, making you part your lips in offense. He smiles at your shocked expression, tilting his face to brush his nose against yours.

“I hated you before I even met you, and I hated you even more the first time we met in the Great Hall and I realized there was absolutely nothing to hate about you. I hated that you were so captivating. I still hate that, I think.”

Your cheeks burn at the depth of his words and you look up at the ceiling, pursing your bottom lip in a sullen pout to cover the fluttering in your stomach.

“You made me feel insecure about my teeth for years after that day, you know?”

He huffs out a short laugh at the memory, cupping your jaw to guide your face to his again.

"Well, they were a little out of proportion..." He taps his thumb gently across the top of your lips until it pokes at your two front teeth, a strangely fond glint in his gaze and a small, amused smile. "Right here."

With a slight, offended swat and blushing even more, you struggle to pull his hand away.

"Of course they were out of proportion, you big insensitive! I was only eleven, still in the growth phase."

"That sounds like an excuse to me. I was eleven too and I wasn't like that."

He sounds smug now, and you hate that he's right. Even at the young age when, inevitably, almost everyone was gangly and awkward in one way or another, Aemond was still an irritatingly beautiful child - even brutally scarred with the loss of his eye and the scar. With pale, delicate features and chubby but perfectly proportioned cheeks, he looked like a spoiled little prince at the time.

He still looks like a spoiled prince now.

“No more pretending,” he confesses reluctantly after a while of poorly hidden laughter, as if it hurts him to be so honest about his feelings. “I’m not sure I can keep denying how much I crave for this. For you.” 

A quiet surprise spreads across your features at the admission and you reach out to him, intertwining your fingers. You hadn’t realized that everything had been so…mutual — the forced hatred and provocations, for sure, but not the feelings either. 

“Mmm,” you hum softly after a while, hope flickering through you brighter as Aemond’s steady gaze lingers on yours, your bodies still intimately joined over this table in an abandoned classroom. “I suppose it’s probably time we faced head on this despicable fate that awaits us.” 

Aemond’s answering smile is rare and absolutely breathtaking.

--

[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: none

A/N: bacon sounds so good rn

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P6: Choking on Meat

wc: 1900+

The warmth of the morning sun filtering through the curtains makes my skin pulse with a lively feeling. I admire the golden glow cascading in the room, my mind waking up as I recognize the semi-familiar surroundings—Chris’s room. 

Fuck. I need to be home. 

My body twists under a heavy weight. I look down to see his arm wrapped around my waist tightly, his lips tickling my neck as light breaths push through his lips. Oh. He’s spooning me—well, practically cradling me. It’s not even just his arm over my waist, his other arm is under my neck, caging me in against him completely. 

The rise and fall of his chest against my back is slow. His hold on me is so secure, almost as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear. And part of me doesn’t want to move. Maybe I should just stay a little longer…

“Hmmmm.” He hums into my hair, pulling me even closer as he sighs. It’s odd. The feeling of butterflies in my stomach is overbearing. 

I need to leave.

“Chris—” My words are interrupted as he lets out some sort of grunt, holding me even closer. “I need to—” 

The whine that murmurs through his lips makes my chest tighten, the feeling of his lips against my neck sending a wave of butterflies into the pit of my gut. 

It’s so… different. He seems so soft—so gentle. 

I maneuver my feet just the slightest, the heavy weight of Trevors small figure nowhere to be found. Sitting up slightly, I huff as Chris practically yanks me back down into his hold. I roll my eyes, my eyes drifting uncomfortably up towards the door. 

Oh fuck. 

His door is open just a crack, the room barren of any dog. Someone came in here—someone saw. Was it Matt? Had it been his dad? Honestly, I didn’t know which one was worse. 

The digital clock glares back at me as I stare over to his nightstand. 

11:37 a.m. 

My eyes bulge, my entire body tensing with pure horror. I never sleep in this late. Even though I know it’s a Sunday, my mom had probably come to check on me—she had probably seen the empty bed. 

Maybe there’s a small chance she hasn’t noticed yet. Any chance, I was willing to take at this point. 

I nudge Chris a bit. “I need to go home—”

“Shhhh,” he breathes, nuzzling his face further into my neck. “Haven’t slept in so long. Please,” he begs, his gruff words barely coherent. 

My body falls limp, my teeth biting into my lip as I stare at the surroundings of the room. Why hasn’t he slept? 

As my mind runs in circles, I fail to hear the pummel of paws get closer to the door, the slight scratch making me smile as I see Trevor jump up on the bed. He walks directly in front of me, plopping and curling underneath Chris’s hand around my waist. 

He’s so cute. 

“Sleep good?” 

Shit.

My face falls as I look up to see Matt staring at me from the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest while raising a brow at me. 

“Matt get the fuck out of my room,” Chris spits.

Matt sighs as he closes the door. “Dad came in earlier to get Trevor, so have fun explaining that.” 

Oh god. Could this get any worse? 

“Chris, I need to get home,” I announce, trying to pry his arm off of me slowly. 

“I’m fine, I just—nevermind,” he puffs, releasing me from his hold as if he had been burned. I feel a dull ache in my chest, a sinking sensation spreading through my body. Chris gets up quickly. He stands up, running a hand over his face with a deep sigh. 

“I need to go home—”

“What? You need me to walk you like a dog?” 

Ouch. 

My face falls as I recognize his bitter tone, his eyes dropping to a cold glare as he rummages around the room mindlessly. Is he even looking for something? Or does he just want to ignore me?

Trevor nuzzles further into me, letting out a small grumble as I get up off the bed. I pet my hand soft on his head, my lips curling into a sympathetic smile as I try to take a deep breath. 

“Get out of my room. Go home,” Chris tuts, barely brushing past me as he storms out the door, leaving it open as if he’s trying to urge me to be faster. 

He doesn’t spare me any sort of acknowledgment before disappearing down the hallway. I hear a door click shut, the sound of shower water buzzing from the other side of the wall. My eyes drift to Trevour. I feel my lip quiver, a wave of chaos floating into my mind. Why did he have to be so cold?

It felt good to be in someone’s arm, for them to want me. And it had perished as soon as he really woke up. I thought we had some sort of understanding, but I guess not. 

I walk out the room, my arms folded across my chest as I take soft steps towards the living room. My feet freeze as I enter the main room. 

The living room is barren, the messy blankets still strung along the dented couch cushion. My eyes stay frozen towards the door, the bodies in the kitchen moving in my peripheral vision. 

Matt is sitting at the counter. He’s staring at his phone with a dumb smile, his thumbs tapping profusely on the screen. 

“Do you want some breakfast?” 

The question from the older man catches me off guard. My mouth gapes open, my hands gripping tighter around myself as I blink quickly scanning the surroundings. 

“It’s, um—it’s not what it looks—”

Before I can finish, he interrupts me. 

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, kid. I’m just askin’ if you want some breakfast,” he explains, laughing as he holds up a plate full of food. Bacon. My mouth waters just from the smell. When’s the last time I didn’t have protein pancakes or a smoothie for breakfast? 

“I, um—I should get home, I’m sorry for intruding,” I huff, trying to take a couple more steps towards the door. 

As my hand lands on the doorknob, I feel something bump into my ankles—Trevor. The dog nips at my sweatpants, tugging and pulling.

“I think he wants you to stay,” the older man remarks, laughing as he swings a spatula around. 

He reminds me of Matt, but a bit more outgoing. I shake my head, going to awkwardly refuse the offer, but the older man sets the plate on the counter next to Matt, nudging for me to come over and sit. Trevor drops my clothes from his teeth as soon as I start walking back over. 

“You can call me Jimmy by the way—or J-Dawg, I’m cool like that,” he winks, handing me a fork as I settle into the kitchen stool. 

Matt shakes his head beside me. “No one calls him that except himself.” 

“Oh, well—thanks,” I smile awkwardly, pushing my fork into the hashbrown sizzling on the plate. My eyes go wide, my words falling rushedly out of my lips, “Oh—I’m Y/n, sorry, I…” A blush covers my face as I realize just how quickly the words left my mouth. 

“Lovely to meet ya,” he remarks, smiling with a cheery grin before turning around and moving the spatula in the pan. “Can’t remember the last time Chris had someone over,” he puffs, his words barely audible over the sound of food cooking. 

“Yeah, I… it wasn’t really planned,” I explain, cringing as the words muffle from the food being stuffed in my mouth. 

Matt shifts from beside me. I notice how his posture is hunched over, completely invested in his phone. “You good?” I ask, elbowing him lightly. 

“Ugh, I just,” he looks over at me, turning his phone off and placing it down on the counter. “Mia said yes to a date. I wanna take her to the museum since she loves history and art, but I… what the fuck do I wear?” 

I nearly choke on my food. As I cough repeatedly, I hear the clink of a glass, looking down to see Jimmy pushing a cup of water in front of me. 

“You good, kid?” Jimmy asks, his eyes furrowed together as he watches me catch my breath. 

I look between the two. My eyes focus on Matt, my face crinkled as I stare at him with concern. “You just curse in front of your dad?” I ask, my voice high in pitch. 

A gut laughter makes me shrivel, my neck heating up as I maneuver my weight in the stool. Jimmy is practically crying, tears welling up in his eyes. “Oh kid, that’s what scared ya? I don’t care at all—or should I say, J-Dawg don’t spare any damns!” he remarks, pursing his lips as if he’s posing. 

Spare a damn? 

My lips flubber with a muffled giggle. I let out a sigh of relief as I take a long sip of water, grabbing onto a piece of bacon and starting to munch on it. I like his dad. Why couldn’t Chris be more like him? Or even more like Matt? Why did he have to be so… ugh. 

“Anyhow,” Matt start, staring back at me as he nervously fiddles with his hands. “I don’t really know, like, what to wear. Do you think you could…I don’t know…help me?” he questions. 

I nod my head affirmatively, covering my mouth as I struggle to eat the warm food. I should’ve just waited for it to cool down, but it looked too good. “Yeah, I—wait, when does Chris usually come out?” I ask.

Matt shrugs. “Usually after he takes a shower, why?”

The dull ache in my chest returns as I spare a quick stare down the empty hallway. “I, um—I should probably go before he sees me, he didn’t exactly want me to be here.” 

Scratching my nails into my head, I try to chew quicker, wincing as I swallow too soon. I should be in a rush to get home for the sake of my mother—not for the sake of being caught by Chris in his kitchen, talking to his dad and brother.

“He looked like he wanted you here earlier,” Jimmy puffs. 

My eyes go wide with his statement. I look over to Matt, watching as he shrugs. “Dad always gets Trevor in the morning. I told you this, remember?” he retorts. 

Well, fuck. I almost forgot he had said that earlier. He saw me cuddled up with his son. How fucking awkward. 

“Yeah, I thought I was delusional when I saw that Chris was actually asleep for once. Imagine how shocked I was when I saw someone else with him, ha!” Jimmy laughs, my anxiety easing as I analyze his comforting humor. He turns to face me, waving the spatula as he speaks, “You’re welcome anytime. If my dog likes ya, you can hang out whenever—he loves to be pet.”

I smile fondly. “Yeah, he does. I like him too,” I say, looking down to find the fluffy dog beneath my feet, curled in a tight ball and letting out soft snores. 

“Will you help me with my outfit though? Please?” Matt asks, his eyes mimicking Trevor’s when the dog begs from pets with a small whine. 

How could I say no? 

[isaadore]

OFF THE RECORD JACK HUGHES

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎pairing jack hughes x pr manager!reader

SUMMARY being jack’s pr manager was supposed to be a stepping stone in your career, not a constant exercise in crisis management. jack was talented, charismatic, and an absolute menace when it came to following media protocol. every press conference felt like a battle, every interview a test of patience. and somehow, amidst the chaos, he had made it his personal mission to get under your skin. but the real problem? you weren’t sure you minded it as much as you should. word count 0.6k

warnings fluff, flirting, workplace romance, failed attempt at enemies to lovers

note requested by my #1 (@cyberhughes) for my 1k celebration, thanks for requesting bbg 🔥🔥 but idk why i put enemies to lovers as a trope, i can't even write it properly, so hope this meets ur expectations 😜

JH86 MASTERLIST EVENT MASTERLIST

JACK WAS A PR nightmare. Not because he was reckless or controversial, no, that would have been easy to handle. The problem was that he simply didn’t care. Media obligations were an inconvenience, interviews were a form of torture, and following a script? Not a chance. He made that abundantly clear the first time you tried prepping him before a post-game conference.

“Jack, just stick to the key points,” you said, pacing in front of him while he leaned back in his locker room stall. “Emphasize the team’s effort, don’t overpromise about injuries, and for the love of God, don’t chirp the reporter again.”

He smirked. “What? You don’t think they deserve it?”

“That’s not the point.” You exhaled, pressing your fingers to your temples. “The point is to keep things smooth and professional. Just, please try, okay?”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll be good.”

That promise lasted exactly two questions into the presser before he decided to call out a reporter for always betting against the Devils. You barely suppressed a groan as you worked on damage control, sending out an apologetic statement before Jack even finished his last answer. When he walked off, he gave you a smug little glance, and you swore he enjoyed making your life difficult.

“You love the attention, don’t you?” you muttered as you walked side by side back to the locker room.

Jack shrugged. “Nah, I just like seeing you all worked up.”

Your fingers tightened around your phone. “You’re insufferable.”

He grinned. “And you’re fun when you’re mad.”

It had been like this since the day you got hired. Every interaction was a push and pull, him testing your patience, you trying (and failing) to keep him in line. But somewhere between the bickering and the exasperation, there were moments that felt dangerously close to something else. The way his eyes lingered when you weren’t looking. The way your pulse jumped when he leaned in too close under the guise of making a joke. The way your stomach flipped every time his teasing turned just a little too soft.

It all came to a head after an especially heated argument over his latest social media post, a photo with a caption that was ambiguous enough to spark trade rumours. Your phone had been blowing up all morning with calls from reporters, and fans in a frenzy over the idea that he might be leaving New Jersey.

“Jack, what the hell were you thinking?” you snapped, storming into the locker room before the morning skate.

He turned from where he was taping his stick, completely unbothered. “Relax. People overreact to everything.”

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to steady your frustration. “That’s exactly why you have to be careful. You’re not just some kid on Instagram anymore. Every word, every post, it matters.”

Jack stood, stepping closer. “What if I just like getting a reaction out of you?”

Your breath caught. It was the way he said it, not with the usual cocky smirk, but with something quieter. More intent. You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was. Of the heat rolling off him, the sharpness of his gaze.

“You really love making my job impossible, don’t you?” you said, voice softer than you meant.

Jack’s lips quirked, but there was something different in his expression now. Something serious. “I think you like it.”

You should have walked away. Should have reminded him that you were his PR manager and that this was strictly professional. But when he leaned in, when his voice dropped just enough to make your pulse stutter, you realized something horrible.

He might be right.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ JH86 MASTERLIST ✷ EVENT MASTERLIST

[moonlight-alexia]

Starfish and Caitlin comforting Katie after the lose to Slovenia on Facetime.

not really posting/writing atm but i couldn't not do this one <3 so pls enjoy i really hope you do

any and all feedback, comments, reblogs etc are very appreciated and welcome <3

gentle connection ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

‘Mammy!’ You exclaimed when you saw your mammy’s face through the screen of your mummy’s phone. You were on camp with your mummy and you tried to talk to your mammy whenever you got the chance. But mostly you were out like a light from running around with Harper and the other Australia girls all day.

‘Starfish, inside voice remember,’ Your mummy reminded you, you hadn’t had a big day like the last few so you were excited that you were able to talk to your mammy. 

Caitlin had called Katie a bit earlier while Alanna and Kyra were distracting you so your mummy could comfort your mammy a little. They were both lucky, you understood emotions and what other people needed often but sometimes they still need those moments just the two of them. 

‘Hi mammy,’ You whispered, giving a little wave to Katie who was on the other side of the phone. 

‘Hi my little Starfish,’ Katie smiled softly, giving you a little wave back. Seeing you, even if it was through a screen, made Katie’s day a lot better. Your mammy, not that she would really admit it, had been missing you a bit more this camp. A lot for her to adjust to and if it wasn’t for Australia’s kit debut, you would’ve been there with her instead. Something that Caitlin now felt a little guilty about now after seeing how deflated Katie was.

You sat in your mummy’s lap, her arms wrapped around your waist while you happily talked your mammy’s ear off. It wasn’t often Katie was this quiet, but she was more than happy to listen to everything you’d been up to right now. The first time you’d been away from your mammy where you’d barely been able to talk to her, and listening to you talk, the familiarity helped your mammy. 

‘I’m having lots of fun mammy, but I miss you and counting down the days til ‘m home with you,’ Your voice trailed off, you were observant, your mums knew that but they often forgot just how observant and in tune with others you were, that it might become a problem for you later on. 

But now, you gave your mammy a small smile while she told you how much she misses you and can’t wait til you’re all home again, ‘Mummy,’ Your voice cut through the little silence that had floated between the three of you, you turned your head looking at Caitlin. Your mummy hummed a little in acknowledgment, ‘Can I talk to mammy, just me and mammy please,’

Caitlin smiled and placed you down in the middle of the bed, making sure you were all comfy against the pillows. There used to be times Caitlin would feel a tinge of insecurity if you’d want to just talk to your mammy. Perfectly normal, not feeling like she was integrating well into yours and Katie’s dynamic, but she was long over that and enjoyed seeing that bond you had with your mammy, ‘I’ll be right across with Kenzie if you need me,’ 

Your mummy placed a kiss against your forehead before leaving you and your mammy alone. You yawned a little, Katie almost jumping in to suggest you having a little sleep while she stayed on the phone with you, but your voice stopped her before she could say anything, ‘Mummy said you might be a bit sad, you’re more quiet,’ 

Katie gave you a small smile, they tried to be as open with their feelings with you in hopes that when you’d feel safe enough to talk to them about your feelings, ‘It’s been a hard day Starfish. A big loss but seeing you now makes it all better,’ 

Your little eyebrows furrowed while you were thinking, ‘Y’know mammy, mummy lost big too. Yous are the same!’ Katie smiled, a little laugh at the way your eyes lit up when you’d made the connection. Your mummy’s games hadn’t been going all that well either.

‘I guess we are, aren’t we,’ You were happy that you could get a little laugh from your mammy, your efforts to comfort her you believed to have succeeded. You tried to not think too much so you wouldn’t accidentally frown and worry your mammy, but you were starting to realise how hard it was when you were away from either of your mums when they were upset. Wishing they could be happy all the time and never sad.

‘Gonna give you a hug mammy,’ You held the phone against your chest. Katie smiled and, even though you couldn’t see, she held her phone against her chest. To anyone else it might seem strange but to Katie it was really comforting, even though the slight ache in her chest wishing that it was real.

‘I love you Starfish, you give the best hugs,’ Soon enough you’d be home and able to give your mammy a real hug.

[little-jana]

"The Bookstore Incident"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Spencer being clumsy, use of Y/N, early seasons!Spencer

Words: 2.5k

Summary: When Spencer Reid tries to grab a book at a local bookstore, things go very, very wrong. Or do they?

a/n: requested: yes! Anon asked for a prequel to this one! So here it is! Enjoy!

It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon.

You had wandered into the little independent bookstore tucked between a coffee shop and a vintage clothing store, looking for nothing in particular. The scent of aged paper and fresh ink filled the air as you traced your fingers along the book spines, aimlessly browsing.

The shop was cozy, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a slightly creaky wooden floor that made the place feel like something out of a story itself.

That’s when you heard the crash.

The unmistakable sound of books tumbling to the ground echoed through the store, making you and a few other patrons jump. Turning toward the commotion, you saw him—an absolute disaster of a man standing amidst a pile of fallen books, looking both mortified and helpless.

Tall, lanky, and frantically pushing his unruly brown hair out of his face, he was reaching for the top shelf of a precariously stacked display. It seemed that whatever book he had been trying to retrieve had caused a domino effect, sending at least two dozen books cascading to the floor.

“Oh, no,” he muttered under his breath, crouching down to start picking them up. He looked like he was debating whether he could somehow put them back before anyone noticed. Spoiler: he couldn’t.

You couldn’t help but smile as you walked over. “Need some help?”

His head snapped up, startled by your presence. “I—uh, yes? Maybe? That would be—um—thank you.” His voice was soft and warm, yet tinged with embarrassment.

You crouched down beside him, picking up a book and glancing at the title. Theoretical Physics and the Multiverse Hypothesis. You raised an eyebrow, looking at the others scattered around. A mix of philosophy, quantum mechanics, psychology, and a single, completely out-of-place Agatha Christie novel.

“Quite the collection you knocked over,” you teased, stacking a few books into a neat pile. “Little bit of everything.”

He let out a nervous chuckle, adjusting his sweater vest as he gathered another handful of books. “I, uh… I like to read.”

You grinned. “I can see that.”

For the first time, he looked directly at you, and you noticed just how kind his eyes were—warm brown, filled with something sharp and intelligent but also… a little lost.

You held up the Agatha Christie novel with a smirk. “Murder mysteries, too? Didn’t peg you for the type.”

He blinked, then smiled—just slightly. “Actually, I find her writing fascinating. She once disappeared for eleven days, and no one knows exactly what happened during that time.”

You tilted your head, intrigued. “That’s a fun fact.”

He perked up a little. “I have more.”

You laughed. “Oh, I bet you do.”

A faint blush crept up his neck, but before he could say anything else, you grabbed the book he had originally been reaching for off the shelf and handed it to him.

“Here,” you said. “This the one that started it all?”

He nodded, taking it gingerly, as if he wasn’t sure he deserved it after the chaos he’d just caused. “Yes. Gödel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid. I’ve read it before, but I wanted to reference something.”

You shook your head in amusement. “Of course you have.”

“I’m Spencer, by the way,” he blurted out suddenly, as if realizing he hadn’t introduced himself.

“Nice to meet you, Spencer. I’m (Y/N).”

He hesitated for a moment, then—tentatively—held out his hand. His grip was gentle, fingers warm against yours. It was a simple gesture, but it made your heart skip a beat.

“Well, Spencer,” you said, unable to keep the teasing note out of your voice, “if you ever need help knocking over more bookstores, let me know.”

He let out an actual laugh this time—a soft, real one—and ran a hand through his hair, still looking adorably flustered.

“I might just take you up on that.”

[cherryblossms]

once angel let him in on the little fact that strawberries were his favorite, garam didn't even want to tell him what they were for. he already felt bad with the worries and anxiety he felt with how angel might see him after the two of them hooked up, he didn't want to give the other more of a reason to see him as some sex crazed monster. he looked up to angel with worry in his eyes as he sort of frowned, "no, you can't eat them." he almost whined. "not yet anyways, they're for something special." the corners of his mouth lifted as he finished speaking. it was something he'd only ever tried once with a girl he casually dated in college, not with strawberries but with raspberries. the two made a mess but he had fun and he wanted to try it out on angel to see if he would enjoy it just as much. when they made it down to the parking garage, garam tensed up a little bit, fearing his ex's presence. he wanted to look around to be sure that the man wasn't there waiting but he kept his eyes forward, not wanting to look paranoid. garam was almost too preoccupied to notice angel opening the passenger door for him, only catching the gesture once the door was open. he looked to angel and smiled warmly, though he wanted to say something, he kept his lips sealed, wanting to wait until they were both in the car. he pulled his phone out of his pocket, opening up the camera app to check his appearance before angel slipped into the driver's seat. "can we just go to the mall? there's so many stores to check out so i'll know i'll be able to get everything i need and not have to make any unnecessary trips out." that wasn't the only reason, though. garam was sure the mall would be full of people so their presence would go completely unnoticed if axel had decided to skip work just to follow them around. they could easily ditch him in crowds of people if that were the case. "and if we're there long enough and we get hungry, we can just go to the food court." garam looked down at the other's hand squeezing his thigh, truly unable to stop himself from smiling. and trust that he put in a lot of effort to keep a straight face but the corners of his lips were destined to stretch ear to ear. even when things were going good with garam and axel, the man never treated him as nicely as angel did. there was no car doors being opened. there was no opening doors, period. nor did he ever remind garam to fasten his seatbelt, axel typically peeled out before garam had the chance to even touch his seatbelt.. as nice as it was to see how caring somebody could be towards him, it only made him feel worse because of how blind he was to angel's feelings. he chose to stay with somebody that never actually made him feel loved instead of picking somebody that showed him just how loved he was whenever they were together. he was slow and precise as he pulled the seatbelt across his body, only looking over to angel once he was locked in. "you're too nice to me, it makes me want to do bad things to you." not bad, necessarily. not the actions, themselves. what he wanted to do was naughty and what was bad was their currently location. the fact that it didn't matter where they were, garam would stop dead in his tracks to jump on angel the first chance he got. it was like he felt the undeniable desire to reward somebody's kindness with free use of his body. "maybe not bad," he clarified, his voice was softer, "but things i shouldn't be wanting to do in public."

Angel watched Garam as he stood up, his heart racing a little. There was something about the way Garam moved, the light in his eyes, that always made Angel feel a rush of warmth. He brushed a hand through his hair, trying to tame the messy strands that fell across his forehead, and felt a flutter of excitement at Garam’s compliment “Thanks,” he replied, his voice slightly shy as he caught Garam’s gaze. “You look pretty good yourself, even if you just rolled out of bed.” Garam’s teasing boop on the nose made Angel laugh, a bright sound that echoed in the room. He felt a surge of affection for the man in front of him. It was moments like these that made him forget the worries that sometimes crept into his mind—like the jealousy that bubbled up when Garam talked about unsolicited messages. It was silly, he knew that, but the thought of someone else trying to get Garam's attention made him feel a little possessive. “Okay, ice cream it is,” Angel said, following Garam as he tugged him along. “But you’re going to have to tell me what those strawberries and whipped cream are for later.” He shot Garam a playful look, a hint of mischief dancing in his own eyes. As they reached the front door, Angel grabbed his keys from the small dish on the table. He turned to Garam, a grin spreading across his face. “I can drive. Just tell me where to go.” He loved driving, especially when it was with Garam. The way they would banter back and forth during the ride, the comfortable silence that sometimes fell between them, all of it made him feel at home. “Just so you know,” he added, a teasing lilt to his voice, “strawberries are my favorite. Might have to eat them before we get home” he winked at the man with a squeeze to his hand. As they made their exit of the apartment Angel locked up leading Garam down to the parking garage. The taller man didn’t drive his car much. His all black honda civic sat in the parking spot with the matching number to their now shared apartment. He headed straight toward the passengers side and pulled it open for Garam. Hr smiled as he watched the ma climb in still in disbelief of their dynamic right now. He closed the door and climbed into the driver side. “Where to first?” Angel asked as he started the car and glanced over at Garam, “Seat belt baby” he said his town lowering showing how serious he was. Angel’s hand found its way to Garam thigh giving it a slight squeeze before pulling off from the parking spot.

[wbbpls]

Platonic Plus One? (Chapter 1)

For purposes of the story line I made people up but our Uconn girlies will still make appearances!

———————

Chapter 1

Paige and Azzi became best friends instantly. They met during USA basketball in high school and have been inseparable ever since. They easily mixed their friend groups and families, as if they’d always been in each other's lives. So when Azzi was asked to be a bridesmaid in her cousin Jessica's wedding, bringing Paige along was a no-brainer.

Jessica and her high school sweetheart Brandon were well-versed on all things Paige and Azzi at this point and weren’t shocked at Azzi asking Paige to be her plus one.

Storrs, CT

“Paigey please go with me? I don’t want to show up alone and if you don’t go I’m just going to be texting you the whole time.”

Paige pauses her game and places her controller down. “I don’t know Az. I don’t want to intrude. Like I know I’m not tight with Jess like that, but don’t you think I would have been invited if they wanted me?”

“Uh no because they gave me a plus one, which I’m sure my family knows means you. You have to remember his Mom has been weirdly involved in the planning and she’s more traditional about this stuff.”

Paige moved to sit at the edge of her bed with her feet dangling off the side. “So then wouldn’t they want you to bring like a real date?”

Azzi knows she got her title of people’s princess with her sweetness and innocence…so why not use it to her advantage? She moved to stand between Paige’s legs and rests her hands on Paige’s hips (in a very platonic way of course). “P c’mon please? For me? I just really don’t want to go alone and deal with commentary from my family.“

Paige looked down at Azzi’s big brown eyes and melted. The truth is, Paige would kill to be Azzi’s date. The issue is that Azzi is straight, so she shoved those feelings down a long time ago. Also, she isn’t asking Paige to be her date, just her friend to accompany her. “Yeah, okay, whatever, Az. Just tell me what to wear.”

Azzi wrapped her arms around Paige’s neck jumping up and down in excitement. “Yay thank you Paigey! We’re gonna have so much fun I promise.”

——————————

KK and Caroline tag along for wedding shopping. KK stayed with Paige while Caroline and Azzi went to pick up her bridesmaid dress at another shop.

“Damn dude you lookin mighty fine.”

Paige is trying on a light blue suit, making her eyes pop, with the jacket being slightly oversized. Under the jacket is a black vest with a deep v at the top and showing skin at the bottom. Paige has always been comfortable showing skin and trying new styles, so here’s to hoping Azzi approves.

“You think? I’m feeling’ it forreal, but Azzi gotta like it too.”

“Ah yes the girlfriend stamp of approval.” KK says with a knowing smirk.

Paiges eyes bulge out of her head. “Bro what the hell! She could walk in at any minute.”

“Alright I’ll chill but how are you gonna do this for a whole week?”

“Do what? I’m just going with my best friend to a wedding”

“You mean doing what normally people in a relationship do?”

“You don’t think I thought about that?” Paige scream whispers. “But I can’t say no to her and I need to get over whatever I’ve been feeling so maybe a week hanging out as friends will be good.”

“Just don’t get yourself hurt P boogers.”

Paige just sighs and takes in KK’s words while looking at the suit. Suddenly she hears giggling that she’d recognize anywhere.

Caroline is the first to walk in talking about who knows what. “And then she was like—oh my god Paige you look so good!”

Paige smiles at them and notices Azzi just staring at her. “Thanks Car…uh Azzi what do you think?”

Azzi swallows hard. “Uh yeah no I mean great you look uh yeah good.“ Everyone looks at Azzi confused.

“Oh I mean if you don’t think it’s good I totally have some other options it’s cool really.”

Azzi shakes her head and moved forward quickly. “NO! I mean no it’s fine, really this is perfect. I was just uh caught off guard, it looks really good, P”

At this point Caroline and KK are eyeing each other understanding the complicated relationship of the girls in front of them. Paige has spent countless nights crying to KK, praying her and Azzi could be more. Caroline has tried to talk to Azzi about how different their relationship is. When Azzi pushes back, Caroline alwaya brings up the friends don’t get jealous of their friends hooking up with other people. Azzi always has a myriad of excuses of why those girls just aren’t good enough for Paige and changes the conversation.

“Cool cool…well uh I’ll go buy this then.” Paige says trying to hide her blush. She takes off the jacket and begins unbutton the blazer as she enters the changing room. Now Azzi is the one to get red. “No I’ll buy it! I’m the one making you go.”

Before Paige could protest Azzi was running to the front to buy the suit. The three girls left standing there stood in an awkward silence until Paige finished changing back into her normal clothes. Caroline joined Azzi at the front to make sure the flustered girl was okay.

When Paige exited the changing room KK gave her a knowing look. Paige rolled her eyes and started the gather her stuff and checked her phone.

“I mean that girlfriend approval amiright?” KK says as she wiggles her eyebrows.

“Girlfriend?” Azzi finally composed walked in on the last part of KK’s words and is unfortunately back to little composure. Was Paige talking to someone and she didn’t know? Did Paige send a picture of her outfit to some girl?

“What no? No one has a girlfriend she’s just playin.” Paige says with very little conviction.

“Yeah you know me always playin! But like if there was a girl that would be cool too right?” Paige elbows KK in the stomach to try to get her to shut up.

“Yeah that’s great, P. Can’t wait to hear all about her. Uh we should probably get going to beat traffic.” Azzi says with a shaky voice yet flashes Paige one of her signature smiles and walks towards the exit.

Paige can already tell this will easily be one of the longest weeks of her life.

[ohcroculus]

pretty eyes — sirius o. black

summary; you know when he wants to be alone with you.

wc; 0.4k

warnings/notes; none.

series; for my lover, a kiss – footsprints.

‘shall we get out of here?’ he asked with his gaze.

you were hearing words from a friend of your group at your side, smiling at an unfunny joke when you raised your head, bumping into his grey eyes across the room.

he was drinking a bit from his glass, you doubted what it was, though perhaps –and most certainly– pumpkin juice.

it was fun, you had to admit. to be so close and yet not. to know what the other was thinking and that no one understood the exchange of thoughts as well as you could.

perhaps brief glances in the corridors or at mealtimes were knowledgeable to observant people or your friends, but the obvious connection you two had was something else.

something else.

‘to what?’ you questioned, smiling at him and lowering your head, with an air of shyness. go out where? explore the school or get out of the castle?

‘i want to get some air.’ he waved his hand, guiding it to his nose, indicating the need to have a moment between just the two of you and you smiled, pretending it was the conversation you were having with the gryffindor group next to you.

you noticed that his friend to the side –james potter, easy to identify by his glasses– stopped talking, noticing that sirius wasn't responding to his words and was quick to look around, searching for the black-haired boy's interest, to which you ducked your head again, scratching your cheek briefly to add a couple of thoughts to elias.

when he didn't find anyone and kept talking, you looked up.

‘come on,’ insisted sirius, who had never ceased to look at you. you would never tell him, but you thanked his mother for giving him such a good attribute.

──and how could you refuse those pretty eyes?

you rose from the sofa with a yawn, gave a little laugh to your group and said a brief goodbye, without making it too clear where you were going.

after a few minutes of leaving the common room, you heard sirius speak before he finally appeared and calmly intertwined your hand with his.

"what did you make up this time?" you asked as you both walked in the direction of the stairs. sirius jumped up before the stairs changed and grabbed your arm so you wouldn't fall.

he shrugged with his eyes glistening.

"i didn't make it up. i want to pee. come with me." he snickered and you grimaced.

from his eyes, it was obvious he wasn't lying.

"but you'll do it in the bathroom—i don't want to see you pee in the trees again."

taglist; [ @jaeviii ; @hisparentsgallerryy ]

a/n; would you like me to take requests?

[kiruamon]

Toy AU - Introduction

Like promised here comes the introduction post for this AU! Our cast consists of:

Sun

Sun is the marionette of a puppeteer that comes like two or three times a week into a big mall to entertain the kids that stop by there. Sun never really had particularly strong feelings of his life as a marionette. He moves as the puppeteer wants him to. And when it's showtime he can make children smile. There is not much more to it then that. At least he always had thought so. Until he saw you. Sitting there on a pillow behind the store front of the toy shop. You always watched the show. And you smiled at him. He didn't know why, but it made him feel something he never had known before. A wish to move even when there was no one around to pull at his strings. An odd flutter behind his wooden chest that pulled him to your direction.

Moon

He's a Jack-in-the box and a little odd ball. Lurking and watching other toys from the shadowy parts of the store. Even though all he wants is to make some friends. But for some reason everyone just seems to run away and scream when he jumps out of his box when he tries to grab them. Why doesn't anyone want a hug? He hasn't figured out yet, that perhaps his approach could be the reason for why most other toys are scared of him. Also the music of his box is a bit off-tune. Which is why he isn't on sales and was sorted out. He only managed to stay in the toy store by hiding away during daytime from the staff which makes him even more of an outcast in the eyes of the other toys. But all in all Moon is pretty much just a silly goober who doesn't mean any harm at all.

Y/N

There you are! A small plastic doll that can be dressed up and be customized with whatever clothes and wigs are available in your collection. You have been put on the store front's display for a while with some other toys. You know the chances are flat that a kid might buy you and will rather end up with one of the other versions of you that are still packed up in their boxes. But you don't fret over this fact and make the best out of it. It's fun to watch the many shoppers that you can see pass by the window. And you always look forward to the days when the colorful puppet theater booth is showing up. Because you can't help as to smile and feel joy when you see the friendly face of the sun-shaped marionette which arrives with it. You often daydream about what it would be like if you would be able to talk with him. To befriend him. He seems like such a nice guy.

The story of the au is pretty much about Sun, falling at first sight for Y/N. He doesn't know that it's love. It's the first time for him having such intense feelings or thoughts about anything. So it's all rather new and confusing to him. And it all started with you. It brings him to a point where he cuts his strings, just to be able to make his way into the toy store so he can meet you. Not that he knows what to do when seeing you. He just... had wanted to see you face to face from close. To hear what you sound like. To see that lovely little smile without the glass between you. He will probably have a few smaller break downs over his own doings and switching back and forth between feeling oberjoyed and devastated until finally calming down. You will show him around the toy store during closing hours. Which catches Moon's attention. A new toy? And the little doll from the display? Maybe he can make finally some friends! But usually everyone runs away from him. Or screams. So he tries to be really sneaky when the two pass by his box, just to swiftly grab you and pull you inside. He hasn't really thought things through. Or how creepy the situation must seem to you or how alarming to Sun. Oops! While you are pretty scared about being trapped in the dark with a toy that you can't see or know, Sun is already swiftly coming to the rescue in using the crank of the side of Moon's box to get you out of there.

You are free and can breath through to recover yourself from the little scare while Sun will scold Moon like a little child. Which makes Moon feel actually really, really bad and sorry. Moon ends up spending a good while alone to try to figure out a way how to make it up to you and Sun. His apology might be a bit awkward and without much words, but it's sincere when he hands you in a very shy way a toy flower and asks if you could be friends. And how could you say no to that? So as you agree it means the world to him! With officially being friends, Moon becomes really clingy. And that includes not just you but also Sun - who Moon too counts as a friend as well - even though Sun has not agreed to any of that and is extremely irritated by Moon (and also still a bit miffed about what Moon did with you). But well. You're a trio now and Sun has to live with it.

Aaaand that's pretty much all I have for the story. It's not much. But I still hope you all enjoy it.

I also could imagine the other Glamrocks being some sort of toys. Be it as action figures, plushs toys or other things. (I'm just not experienced at drawing them.) Also I was contemplating if the puppetter has a second marionette. Which could be Eclipse perhaps? And that Eclipse would go after Sun cause he wanted to bring him back to their owner?

Also, also. In the sketch dump that will follow this post, Vanny is a part of the au. She's a plush. But despite her looks she isn't a baddie and even friends/buddies with you and might help to play matchmaker for you, Sun and Moon.

[huntercoreene]

Unscripted Venture

Pairing: Rafayel x MC

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Rafayel has been away from MC for a few days and she decides to give him a surprise visit – it ends with sex. MC is not named and Rafayel calls her his canon petnames (cutie & miss bodyguard)

In other words, my attempt at trying to make sense of what we hear in Promised Wildfire, and what happens after it ends (spoiler - sex)

Word Count: 5.3k

Tags/Warnings: smut, fluff, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, squirting, safe sex

Read on Ao3 or under the cut 👇

It had been longer than a week since Rafayel had left Linkon. He got dragged from one exhibition to another while I had to go on the hunt for wanderers with almost no break which made it really hard for us to see each other. The moment I found some free time in my schedule I jumped on a plane to visit Rafayel. Now, I was standing in front of his door, my hand raised as I hesitated to knock.

“Really, Thomas? Another last-minute event?” Rafayel’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Well, duh. Of course I can't make it. I gotta return to Linkon tomorrow. Smell you later.”

I smiled as I listened to him whine to Thomas about work. I took a deep breath as he closed the call, straightened my hair and knocked on his door. I eagerly listened as his footsteps came closer and closer when finally Rafayel opened the door.

His expression changed from annoyed to surprised and then to happy in mere seconds. “Cutie, what are you doing here?”

I jumped into his arms just as he opened them. “I’ve missed you too much so I came to see you!”

He pulled me into a hug and lifted me up, taking my feet off the ground. I had wrapped my arms around his neck and held onto him as he twirled me around. “Are we trying for a new, romantic escapade here?” He asked when he finally stopped.

I held his face in between my hands and gave him a big kiss. “Did you like it?”

“This was the perfect surprise,” he said as he closed the door with his foot and carried me to the living room. “How did you know where I was staying?”

“I convinced Thomas to tell me,” I said with a smile as he sat down with me on his lap.

“How did you manage that? Don’t tell me – ah, I’m gonna have to go to that event tomorrow, aren’t I?” He said with a pout.

I settled on his lap with my legs on either side of his hips and brushed his bangs back. “I will come with you though… we can hide somewhere when you get bored of people, and have a little fun of our own,” I said, my voice getting deeper.

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “I guess we can figure that out later — right now, I want to enjoy having you here with me,” he squeezed me tighter and left a kiss to my cheek. “I’m so excited that you're here – you have no idea. It’s almost like butterflies are about to burst from my chest.” He held my hand and brought it down on his heart.

I could feel how fast his heartbeat was. Suddenly the air in the room changed. I felt myself blush when our eyes met, the rainbow colour of his iris was getting swallowed by his dark pupils the longer we gazed at each other. I felt myself leaning in for his lips like I was being pulled by some unseen force.

It started with small kisses on his lips, our breathing getting heavier by the second. I made my way down to his jaw and pushed open collar of his neck. I admired the view of his collarbone before I went down to lick and suck on his skin.

I felt Rafayel’s muscles tense under my touch and he let out a sigh. “Was this sneak attack also part of your surprise?”

I answered him as I left another kiss on his skin, pushing open his collar and making my way lower on his chest.

He grabbed my chin and lifted my head, making me look into his eyes, “your kiss couldn’t stop the butterflies from flying out of my heart,” he leaned in closer to my face, “but this is how you do it,” he whispered just before I felt the touch of his soft lips on mine.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my fingers in the soft strands of his hair as I felt his tongue search for an entrance on my lips. I opened my mouth, allowing him to deepen our kiss and bring us ever closer. I needed to touch him more, it wasn’t enough. My hands wandered back down to his chest, slipping under his shirt. My fingers caressed his chest, lightly stroking over his nipples as I delighted in the moans that escaped his mouth.

Rafayel’s hands were on my back, stroking up and down at first before he slowly slid them down, pressing hard enough on my skin that I could feel his warmth over my clothes. I could feel myself getting wet just from this, a warm and tingly feeling spreading from my belly to my body. I settled myself nicely on his lap, feeling his hard member right under my sex. Rafayel’s hands settled on my ass and squeezed the soft flesh just as I slowly started to grind on his lap.

“Miss Bodyguard,” he said with a sigh, taking off his lips away from my skin to talk, “you’ve given me quite a surprise. How should I repay you?”

“Kiss me,” I breathed out as his lips travelled down to my jaw.

“Sure, I can kiss you,” he whispered as he turned us around and pushed me down on my back. “Let’s start with just above your eyes…” he planted a kiss, adjusting our position to pull me in his embrace fully, “your nose,” he kissed the tip of my nose, making me giggle, “ears.” This time instead of a kiss, I felt him suck and breathe on my ear.

“Ah, Rafayel…”

I felt his chuckle on my skin before he moved back to my lips again, “and lips too…” he said pulling me into a deep kiss just as another moan escaped my lips. “I’ll make sure to say hello to each of them… it’s been so long, I’ve missed you”

My hands travelled on his back, stroking and making their way to his hair as the sound of our sloppy kisses filled the quiet room. “I missed you, too,” I whispered when I had a moment to breathe.

He kissed me again and again.  It felt like my lips were the only things that could sate his thirst and he was a man parched, lost in a desert. I was feeling dizzy and warm, breathing in his familiar scent, squeezing him because I never wanted to let go. He slowed down after a while and slowly raised up.

“Rafayel,” I protested to the loss of his warmth.

He chuckled and stroked my cheek with his knuckles. “Don’t move. I want to savour this moment.” He gave me a soft kiss. “I’m always scared that you're just a figment of my imagination.” I watched his intense gaze as his eyes travelled my body before settling on my face. He looked down at me like I was a mirage, cupped my cheek like he wanted to make sure I was real.

I leaned my head into his touch as my hands travelled up over his arms, settling on his shirt collar before I pulled him closer. “Mm, why don’t you touch me,” I whispered as I switched our position and settled on his lap before I bent down to lick on his ear, “and find out.”

“Well, you're real,” he giggled, turning his head to find my lips as his arms wrapped me tighter, “and warm. It’s like I'm being enveloped in a pool of water.”

He pulled me into a deep kiss, his mouth moving to my jaw and neck, leaving a wet trail as they went. I felt his head nuzzle my cheek, his soft hair tickling my skin. The more I felt his touch the more colourful the world got. Linkon was so cold and grey without him. “Don’t, go away, again,” I said in a desperate voice. I never wanted to be apart from him.

“I don’t wanna let you go,” he wrapped his arms around my body tighter like he was making his point, “I could hold you like this forever.”

“Oh – really?” I asked with a mischievous smile. My hands stroked down his body as I swiftly pulled his loose tie away from his neck.

“What are you…” he started, a grunt escaping his lips just as I tied up his wrists. “When I said I wouldn’t let go, I wasn’t giving you permission to tie me up, and… you did it with my own tie, no less,” he said, giving me a cheeky smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“This is your punishment for not coming home sooner.” I wrapped the tie around his wrists one more time and leaned in for a kiss as I pushed his arms over his head. “Now, you cannot go anywhere.”

“Fine, fiiine,” he chuckled, adding with a sultry lick of his lips, “punish me however you want, cutie.”

I barely held onto the moan that threatened to escape my lips with the look he was giving me. It was hard to focus on tying him up under his intense gaze. His eyes were like the endless ocean, ready to devour me. I was on top of him, I had his hands bound and yet, I still didn’t feel like I was the one in control. I knew I would fold with just a single word from his lips as long as he looked at me like that.

I swallowed and wrapped the tie to the armrest. He let out an exaggerated groan as I secured the knot. “Ouch… an artist’s wrists are precious, you know, but you're very, very cute right now. I don’t mind being tied up by you.”

I felt my face blush at his compliment, and loosened the knot, worried it was too tight. I slid my hands over his arms, feeling his skin under my  fingers and cupped his face before I leaned in for a kiss. He responded to my kiss, pulling on his bounds and groaned.

I chuckled at his struggle as my mouth left a wet trail of kisses on his skin up to his ear. "You look very cute when you're tied up, too," I breathed out before I sucked on his earlobe.

He moaned and bit his bottom lip as I continued to tease him. He turned his head, looking for my lips as I went back to kissing him. "This shirt is too tight," he said, breathing heavily. "Can you help me unbutton it?”

"Anything for you." I nuzzled my cheek on his face as my fingers found the buttons on his shirt. I kissed my way down as I opened his shirt, making sure to press my palm on his bare chest, feeling every inch of his hot skin.

“It’s still too tight… keep unbuttoning it," he commanded just as I finished opening the last button, my hand dancing on his lower stomach.

"I think we've reached the end of the shirt," I teased, my hand going down only slightly to stroke him over his trousers.

"You know what to do next then, don't you?"

"I don't think I do," I said as I leaned in to kiss his cheek. "You'll need to be more specific."

"Take that naughty hand," he kissed me, "and unbuckle my belt."

I moaned as his words sent a shiver down my body, my hands getting to work on his belt.

"Good girl, now keep unbuttoning."

I quickly unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, my palm flattening over his boxers, feeling how hard he was. I stroked him over the fabric, my fingers dancing on his stomach, threatening to slip under the waistband.

"Mm, not yet,” Rafayel gave me a warning.

“How are you gonna stop me?” I asked with a smirk as I my hand contained to stroke him over his boxers. ”I hold the power now,” I said as I leaned in to capture his lips, my hands stroking over the bare skin of his chest.

My hands moved up to his hair as we deepened our kiss. I could feel his hips buck at my body the more I touched and grinded on him. My mouth moved from his lips to his jaw and then to his neck. Moans and groans escaped both our lips as I made my way down to his nipples, giving attention to both of them before going further down. My hands followed my lips, feeling as much of his skin as I can. One of them moved further down, feeling his hard cock and stroking it over the fabric again. I continued to kiss my way down. I let my mouth soak his underwear, feeling his hot and hard cock under my tongue while I looked up at Rafayel.

"Getting straight to the point, huh...?" he groaned.

"I'm not breaking any rules," I breathed onto his skin before I kissed right under his naval, feeling his muscles tense up at the slightest of my touch, I saw him throw his head back just as my lips touched the waistband of his boxers.

"We've only been separated for a few days and you somehow managed to become so bold," Rafayel said with a strained voice, “then, does this mean I can also be a little bold..." he whispered to my ear as his mouth trailed wet kisses to my jaw, "and spice things up?"

I was too dazed to realize he had broken free. In one smooth motion he had me in his grasp. “Hey! How did you break free?”

He chuckled and got up with me on his lap. “That's something I can't tell you,” he said as he made his way to the bedroom and gently placed me on the bed. He straddled me and moved his mouth closer to my ear, "a slippery fish like me, can't be caught so easily." He whispered before he sucked on my earlobe.

I moaned at his words as he swiftly bound my hands to the headboard. I could feel his hot breath on my skin and it was setting me on fire. "Rafayel, pleasee..."

He chuckled. "Please what, cutie? Let you go or don't let you go?"

I blushed. "I..." I looked up at him with my best pouty look. "Please, I want to touch you. I can't do that if my hands are bound, can I?”

Another delightful chuckle escaped his lips, making my heart skip a beat at the sound. "At this point, begging or running away won't help."

I pulled on my restraints, partly to get away partly because of how turned on I was under his touch as he planted kisses from my cheek to my lips. “Is it too tight? Are you comfortable?”

“Yes,” I moaned. I wanted to lift my hand and cup his face but my hands were tied. “Don’t worry, keep going.”

He left a kiss to my lips and made his way down slowly. His hands moving up and down on my torso, slipping under my shirt and finally making their way to my breasts. “Ah, Rafayel,” his name escaped my lips as he lightly brushed his finger over my pebbled nipple.

“Mm, enjoying my touch this much, cutie?” he said as he cupped both of my breasts, thumbs stroking over my nipples. “They’re so hard already.”

“That’s because it’s cold in here.”

He chuckled. “It’ll be hot in here soon enough,” he left kisses to my neck, making his way down to the top of the soft flesh of my tits, ”then what will be your excuse?”

I felt blood rush to my face as he continued his exploration. He sucked the skin into his mouth, letting it go with a pop sound then licked and kissed the sensitive skin. One of his hands covered the breast he was just sucking as he moved his focus to the other. He pushed the stubborn hem of my shirt up with annoyance and pulled my bra down, revealing both of my tits to his gaze.

“I only touched this and you're already flushed,” he said with a deep voice, thumb caressing my nipple as he bent down to suck on the other.

“Rafayel…” I whined as his mouth moved to suck on the skin between my tits. I felt his chuckle on my skin as he ignored my whining — which turned into a moan every time he sucked and licked my skin —and made his way to my stomach.

He looked up at me as he made it to the waistband of my skirt. “What is it, cutie?” He left a few kisses that made me tremble, the look he gave me after every kiss sending waves of pleasure through my body.

“I want to touch you,” I said with a whimper as he stroked my legs ever so lightly.

“I'm not done painting a masterpiece on your body, Miss Bodyguard. It is my blank canvas,” he left a wet kiss on my inner thigh before he sucked in the flesh to leave a hickey and then licked the sensitive skin, “and only I get to admire it.”

“I wanna see your beautiful painting,” I pleaded as I gave him my best puppy-eyed look.

“But it’s not finished yet.” He moved his attention to my other leg. “I wanna leave my mark here,” he sucked in my skin and let it go with a pop, “and there… yes everywhere…” he made his way higher on my inner thigh, getting closer and closer to my heat with every touch of his lips, leaving a hickey everywhere his mouth has touched.

“It’s unfair,” I tried my luck again.

He chuckled and rested his head against my thigh as he continued leaving lazy kisses. “What?”

“I want to ‘paint’ on you, too.”

“Alright, I guess you’ve been a good girl so far,” he reached up and untied my hands, “and I need your hands free to take this shirt off.”

I chuckled as I raised my hands and let him take the shirt off of me. “Rafayel!” I was surprised as he picked me up and turned us over, placing me on his lap this time.

“I willingly surrender myself to you. Do with me as you wish.”

I settled myself on his lap, grinding only a little to feel how hard he is under me before I pushed his shirt off his shoulders and threw it to the other side of the room. I placed my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat right under my palm. His ears and cheeks were flushed, same with mine, when I leaned in for a kiss. My hand moved down on his stomach, feeling his abdomen before slipping beneath his underwear to feel his hardness.

“…you're greedy, aren’t you?”

“Can never have enough of you,” I said as I pushed him on his back.

“Ow!”

“Aw, where did it hurt?” I asked going along with his exaggerated pain, “here?” I kissed his jaw. “Or here?” I sucked on his neck, earning a moan from him then kissed the sensitive skin.

“Mm, cutie, making me surrender isn’t enough,” he breathed, “you also wanna leave your mark on me?”

I looked up at him as I kissed down his chest. “Yes. People should know you're mine,” I said with a hoarse voice before I sucked on his skin, earning another moan.

“Alright, then… don’t miss a single spot…”

I smiled and got to work on worshipping his body. I kissed his chest, licking and lightly sucking both his nipples, feeling the way his heart skips a beat with every touch of my lips. My hands made their way down his stomach, feeling his muscles tense with my touch until I've reached his trousers. I slipped my fingers under the waistband of his underwear, pushing it down as he lifted his hips.

“Don’t you think this is a little bit unfair?” Rafayel said playfully as I moved up on his body.

“What?” I was kissing his neck.

He wrapped his arms around me, his hands finding the clasp of my bra, “I’m all naked now and you still have so many clothing that’s blocking the view of my masterpiece.”

“Why don’t you take them off then?” I whispered before I sucked on his ear.

He groaned as he wrapped his arms tighter, pulling me flush with his body, turning us around in one smooth motion. He pushed the straps of my bra down before taking it off and throwing it to the other side of the room. He leaned in for a kiss, licking my lips with his tongue, urging me to open my mouth. I let him deepen the kiss as I felt his warm hands slid down my body.

He slipped his fingers under the waistband of my skirt and pushed it down, adding it to the mess of clothes around the room. I wrapped my arms around his neck, grinding my hips on his lap as his fingers started to stroke my sex over the thin fabric of my panties.

He hooked one finger to the strap on the side, pulling lightly and letting it snap to my skin, earning a moan from me. “Mm, this is cute. Did you get it for me?” he said, his mouth moving in between kissing my lips to sucking on my skin.

“Yes,” I breathed, “do you like it?”

“Very much,” he said as his fingers continued their strokes, “you're so wet for me.”

“I want you, Rafayel. I need you,” I whimpered.

He groaned, pushing my panties to the side, feeling my clit without a barrier for the first time. “Not yet,” he said before he kissed his way down my body and settled his head between my thighs.

“Oh, Rafa–“ I tried to say his name just as I felt his tongue on my clit. He sucked on the sensitive bud before licking stripes on my cunt. I raised my head to see just as he looked up at me, sending a wave of pleasure to my clit.

He alternated between flicking on my clit and drawing shapes, every so often stimulating me so much that I couldn’t help but pull on his hair. I felt his fingers stroke the side of my pussy lips, making my legs tremble with pleasure just as he pushed a finger inside. He pushed it as deep as he can, waited, then pulled out before pushing it again as I threw my head back. He slowly started to pump his finger in and out as he continued licking my clit.

He stopped again, making me moan in protest and slowly pushed two fingers inside this time. The sound of my wet cunt filled the room as he pumped his fingers. He reached his free hand and cupped my tit before pinching my nipple just as he curled his fingers inside of me. It was too much for me as I felt my body twitch and tremble with pleasure and came squirting on his face. He continued licking my clit and fucking me with his fingers even though I squirmed to get out his hold.

“Rafayel, enough, please,” I said in between my heavy breaths as my cunt twitched with over-stimulation.

He left a kiss to my lower abdomen with a chuckle before picking up a discarded shirt. He wiped his face and threw it away again, then dropped himself next to me on the bed. I turned to my side and placed my hand on his face, my thumb caressing his cheek. He was so beautiful. I leaned in to capture his lips, my hand sliding down on his body, finding his painfully hard cock. I gave him a few slow strokes as we continued to kiss. He tensed and moaned when I pressed on the sensitive spot on his tip.

“I’m gonna, spill in your hands, if you keep this up, cutie,” he said with a strained voice.

I slowly pushed him on his back and got on top, my cunt settling right over his cock. “Mm, we can't have that, can we?” I leaned in and sucked his earlobe before I whispered in his ear, “you're only allowed to cum inside me.”

His hands grabbed my hips and pressed my heat on him harder with a groan. “Get the condom from my pocket,” he said with a commanding voice.

I tried to reach it but he was holding me so tight as he rutted against me, it was impossible. “You need to loosen your hold a bit for that,” I chuckled.

“Ah, fiiine, be quick,” he said with a pout and loosened his arms just about enough for me to reach into his trousers on the floor and find the condoms.

“Got them–“ he pulled me down as soon as he could, taking the condom from my hands. He ripped the package open with his mouth and slid it on himself with ease before lifting my hips, “Rafayel, slow down,” I said with a chuckle.

“No,” he growled and turned us around in one smooth motion, “I can't wait anymore,” he started kissing my neck as he took his cock in hand and started rubbing it up and down on my pussy, “and you love teasing me too much.”

“Who’s teasing who now?” I whined as he continued to rub his cock on my cunt, tapping it on my clit, making me twitch and moan.

He let out a low chuckle as he aligned himself with my entrance, his lips moved up to my jaw, cheeks, finally arriving on my lips as he slowly pushed himself in. He stopped for a moment as he let me adjust to his size before pulling back and pushing in deeper.

“How do you feel?” He asked as he sucked my lower lip into his mouth.

“Good.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, my hand buried in his hair.

“Do you need a little help here?” He said with a mischievous tone and started to draw circles on my clit as he started to move his hips slowly.

“Ah, Rafayel…”

“Oh, you like that, yeah?” He increased the speed of his movements.

“Yes,” I breathed with blissed out head. It was such a great feeling to feel so full of him. I felt stimulated every time his hips slapped mine, as his cock slid in and out. I loved being so close to him, connected in every way we could, feeling how hot he got, how much he sweated, feeling both our juices mix and be as one.

I pulled his hand that was circling my clit and brought it to my mouth. “Come closer,” I said as I sucked on his fingers and pulled him down. It wasn’t enough, I needed to be closer to him.

He growled to the sight in front of him and stopped his movement with a deep thrust. I whined to the loss of his body heat as he raised up. He had an intense look on his face now, like he wanted to devour me whole. “Your wish,” he picked up my legs and placed them on his shoulders before he folded me like paper, “is my command.”

“Ahhh,” a moan escaped my mouth. “So deep, so full,” I babbled as he pressed his lips to mine.

He moved his hips just the way I liked it, his cock hitting that spot inside my walls again and again, bringing me closer to my high. One of his hands moved down to cup my tits as he continued leaving kisses on my lips. I pulled on his hair when he pinched my nipples, making him growl and bite my lip. His lips left wet kisses on my skin as they went down on my body, pulling the nipple he just pinched into his mouth. He lifted his head as he looked into my eyes and sucked, his hand finding my free breast. He pinched the other nipple before his lips switched to sucking on that one, all the while the movement of his hips never stopped.

I could feel myself gushing more and more with his every movement. My walls squeezed his cock every time he pinched, sucked and circled my nipples. The pressure was building in my belly. “Rafayel… I'm gonna, cum.”

“Me too,” he raised up and picked up the pace of his thrusts before he leaned down again, “let’s do it together.” He pulled me into a kiss, his lips travelling to my ear. He licked and sucked on my earlobe, and breathed out, “cum with me, cutie.”

I felt the trembling in my legs first just before the dam broke and I felt my whole-body spasm. “Rafayel,” I screamed his name, pulled on his hair and felt my walls squeeze his cock as if they wanted to milk every last drop of his seed.

He pounded his hips one last time and stopped, his head falling on to my neck as I felt the throbbing of his cock inside me. He moved his hips, slowly, pulling back and pushing in again, each time I felt him throb once again. “Ah, cutie, that was…” he lost his train of thought and started to pepper my neck, my jaw, my cheek –anywhere his lips could reach with kisses, making me giggle.

He tried to pull out, before I wrapped my arms and legs around him and pulled him closer to me. “No, don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckled and pressed a kiss to my cheek, “but let me re-adjust. I don’t want to crush you.”

“Crush me, I don’t care. I want to feel your weight on me.”

“Alright, then,” he said and let his weight down on my body.

I felt the air escape from my lungs and I tapped his shoulders with urgency. “On second thought, you should re-adjust.”

He let out a laugh as he raised up. He pulled out his softening cock, removed the condom and tied it into a knot before throwing it to the floor and dropped down next to me. I planted a kiss to his cheek before I settled inside his arms. My fingers drew circles on his chest absent-mindedly as I felt his warm fingers do the same on my arms.

“This is perfect,” Rafayel said as he left a kiss to my damp forehead, “I'm so glad you came here.”

“Me too,” I let out a deep sigh and kissed his jaw. I held his chin in my hand and squeezed. “You're not allowed to go away for this long without me, again.”

He held me tighter in his arms. “Does that mean I can say the same about your trips too, Miss Bodyguard?”

I felt my face get hot. “It’s… not the same.”

“Double standards,” he said with a pout.

I raised my head with my arms planted either side of his face and left a kiss to his lips. “Stop pouting.”

“No. You can leave when you want but I'm not allowed to do the same.”

I left a kiss to his cheek, another one on his nose, another on the side of his eyes. He was still pouting even though his cheeks were getting red. “Okay,” I said with defeat. “How about this? When one of us is away for too long, the other is allowed to visit them and keep them all to themselves as long as they want.”

He finally smiled to that. “Deal.”

“You know this means you're not allowed to go anywhere until tomorrow night…”

“I do, this is gonna be a long night for us, cutie,” Rafayel said with a sultry voice as he got on top and once again, pulling me into a passionate kiss.

My first fic for LaDS fandom, I hope you've enjoyed it!

[morgana-larkin]

So I got some inspiration from the latest episode of Abbott Elementary and wrote ‘Mine’ part 11! There is Sweet Cheeks in this as I couldn’t resist as Mel being all motherly over him was probably the cutest thing ever! Also this fic has led to Google “how do Guinea Pigs mate?” , something I thought I would never Google and yet I have, lol. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

Mine - Part 11

Warnings: None

Words: 3.1k

“Mamma!” Amelia yells and that wakes Melissa up. She opens her eyes and sees you there and all her 3 kids were on the bed. “Happy Birthday Mamma!” Amelia exclaims and jumps into Melissa’s arms and Melissa catches her daughter.

“Well isn’t this a wonderful birthday surprise.” Melissa says and gives Amelia a big kiss on her cheek and Amelia giggles.

“We all made you a card.” You tell her and hand her a piece of paper.

“It’s all of our handprints. I even made Mommy do it.” Amelia tells Melissa.

“This is the best card I’ve ever seen, thank you everyone.” Melissa says.

“Mamma.” Nico says and Melissa looks at him.

“Aw, my beautiful boy.” She says and picks Nico up and gives him a kiss.

“Mamma! Guess what?” Amelia says and Melissa looks at her.

“What?”

“Sweet Cheeks and his girlfriend had the babies!” Amelia tells her and Melissa’s eyes widen before she gives Nico to you, picks Amelia up and runs downstairs to the Cheeks family cage.

“Oh my god, they’re so tiny.” Melissa squeals as she sees the little baby guinea pigs.

“Sweet Cheeks is a father.” You say as you come downstairs carrying the twins.

“I always knew he could be.” Melissa says and puts Amelia down before she opens the cage. “Hey Sweet Cheeks and Miss Sweet Cheeks, can I see one of your babies?” She asks them and one of the babies crawls on her hand. You watch as Melissa shows Amelia the baby with a huge smile on her face. “You have to be careful when petting the babies, Amelia. Just use one finger and be gentle.” Melissa instructs her daughter.

When you both found out that Miss Sweet Cheeks was pregnant around the end of May, you brought both of them to your home so they could take care of each other. You both held off on getting a puppy so you can take care of the Cheeks family instead. Melissa then went crazy and bought a huge ass cage and a bunch of toys for them and the babies. Her and Amelia spent the whole afternoon decorating the cage and researching how to take care of the babies.

“And done.” You say as you finish putting Amelia’s hair in pigtails. “You look so beautiful, sweetie.” You tell her and then you hear Melissa downstairs.

“Sweet Cheeks! Don’t bite me, I’m just trying to say hi to your kids!” You hear and you snort.

“Melissa, we’re ready to go.” You tell her as you and Amelia go downstairs.

“Do we have to? I mean I don’t need a whole day of reminders that I’m 60. My muscles already do that everyday.” She says as she stands up.

“Come on, we’re going.” You tell her as you pick up Caty and she picks up Nico.

“But-” She tries to protest.

“We’re going.” You say to her sternly and Amelia holds Melissa’s hand.

“Come on Mamma, it gonna be fun!” Amelia exclaims.

“Your daughter is saying we should go.” You say and Melissa pouts and sighs.

“My little weaknesses.” Melissa mutters as she lets Amelia pull her to the car.

You pull up to Marie’s place 20 minutes later as she has the biggest backyard. You let Amelia out before you unbuckle Caty and Melissa unbuckles Nico. You then walk up to the door and the door opens before you even knock.

“Hey sis.” Kristen Marie says. “My, having a family really makes you look your age.” She jokes and Melissa rolls her eyes.

“Good to see ya too, sis.” Melissa says and you all step inside before making your way to the backyard. You all step outside and Melissa’s eyes widen as she sees the amount of people here. “How many people did you invite?” She asks you.

“Just your entire family and mine, I think over 100 people. But some couldn’t make it.” You tell her and she sees about 40 kids running around and people conversing with each other.

“Mamma, can I go play with the kids?” Amelia asks her and Melissa sees the other kids and holds onto Amelia tighter.

“There’s some toddlers and babies over there.” Kristen Marie says and Melissa looks over to the small group of toddlers that look around the same age as her kids.

“That’s perfect.” Melissa says and you both bring your kids over there.

“Hey honey.” Melissa hears and turns around to see her mother there.

“Ma!” Melissa exclaims and goes to hug her.

“Happy Birthday.” Teresa tells her daughter. “Good to see you again, Y/n.” She tells you and she goes to hug you.

“Hi Teresa. I’m glad you were able to make it.” You tell her as you pull back.

“Oh I wouldn’t miss my daughter’s 60th birthday party.” She tells you and you hear Melissa groan.

“Melissa, there’s banners and balloons that say your age. Are you gonna groan everytime you’re reminded of your age?” You ask her and she nods her head.

“Grandma!” You all hear and then Amelia runs to Teresa.

“Well hello Amelia!” Teresa says and you see Melissa go and talk to people.

An hour later you see Melissa playing with some of her nieces and nephews and you go and grab the microphone that her siblings set up.

“Can I have everyone’s attention please?” You say and everyone stops talking and looks at you. “Hi, for those who don’t know me or don’t remember, I’m Y/n Schemmenti, Melissa’s wife.” You introduce yourself to everyone and you see Melissa step forward to the front. “Now I’m sure everyone is aware of the celebration today, Melissa’s 60th birthday!” You say with a huge smile and everyone starts clapping as Melissa puts her head in her hands. “Now, I’ve asked her siblings to write down a loving speech about Melissa and then after the dj will start playing music and we can dance.” You tell everyone and Melissa shakes her head as Kristen Marie gets on stage first and you go to Melissa’s side.

“Hello everyone, I’m Kristen Marie, the second oldest child. Now Y/n said a loving speech, so I’m gonna tell a few embarrassing stories about Melissa, delivered with a lot of love.” Kristen Marie says and you widen your eyes as Melissa is not surprised at all by her sister’s antics. “Actually I think we all have embarrassing memories with Melissa that we’re all going to share, just to prepare you, sis.” Kristen Marie tells Melissa. “Now, my favourite memory of Melissa is when she was 10 and me, her and our brother John Anthony were trying to make breakfast for Ma as it was her birthday. Melissa had to go on a stool to grab the big bag of flour and she dropped it and it spilled all over her and she looked like a drug addict.” Kristen Marie says and you hear Melissa laugh.

Melissa has her arm around your waist through all the speeches and only lets go when the dj starts playing music.

“Are you having fun?” You ask her as you start dancing with her.

“I’m having a blast, thank you, hon.” She tells you and you give her a quick kiss before she gets you to twirl.

The second song to come on is the Macarena that all the adults start doing as no one can resist. At some point, you’re in front of Melissa and you wiggle your butt during the ‘hey Macarena’ and Melissa laughs at your antics.

“You’re such a goof.” She says with a big smile and you wink at her.

“Alright everybody, I just got told about a certain couple’s wedding song.” The DJ announces and then ‘I love you always forever’ starts playing and Melissa gasps as it was your wedding song.

“May I have this dance, signora?” She asks you and you happily take her hand before you both start to dance to the song. She then pulls you right up against her as the chorus starts and she starts singing it. “I love you always forever, near or far, closer together. Everywhere I will be with you, everything I will do for you.” She sings and then she gets you to do a twirl.

After an hour of dancing, Melissa has you wrapped in her arms as you sit on her lap.

“Mommy!” You hear and look to see Amelia running up to you both. “I was told to come get Mommy.” Amelia explains and Melissa lets you go and you follow Amelia to the kitchen.

5 minutes later the music stops and then Melissa hears people start singing happy birthday. She sees you come into view holding one of the cakes and Kristen Marie holding the other.

“Happy Birthday dear Melissa, happy birthday to you!” Everyone sings as you place the cake in front of Melissa. Melissa blows out all the candles and then you and her siblings get to work on cutting the cakes and passing a piece out to everyone who wants one. Melissa takes a few bites and then looks at her siblings.

“Which one of you Papera’s made the cake?” She asks them all.

“Your mother.” You tell her.

“Oh, no wonder it’s actually good.” She says and then continues enjoying the cake.

“Ok and this gift is from John and Kristen Marie.” She says as she’s opening all her presents. She opens the envelope and a stack of scratchers were in there. “Ah sweet!” Melissa exclaims with a huge smile.

“And you’ll be able to do those later.” You say as you take them away from her and she pouts. “You have more presents to open.” You add.

“Mamma, I made this for you.” Amelia says after Melissa opens all her other presents and cards. Amelia gives Melissa a painting she drew a week ago and Melissa looks at it, trying to figure out what it is.

“It’s a flower.” You whisper in her ear and she smiles.

“What a beautiful flower, Tesoro.” Melissa tells her and Amelia smiles. “Thank you.” She mouths to you and you smile and nod.

You all then hear a loud pop sound and everyone looks at where it came from.

“My bad!” One of the kids says and is holding the pieces of what used to be a balloon.

“Alright, let’s get back to dancing!” You announce and the DJ starts playing music again.

Melissa is sitting down a few minutes later with a plate of food and sees you dancing with one of her nieces. She then looks over at her kids and sees the twins playing with another baby, while it seems the toddlers started a game of duck duck goose. She sees Amelia gets tagged as the goose and starts chasing after the other toddler.

“Hey Melissa!” She hears and looks over to see the Abbott crew walking up to her. “We haven’t gotten a chance to talk to you yet.” Janine explains.

“There’s so many people here.” Jacob says.

“Ya, too many people.” Gregory says and Melissa chuckles.

“You can thank my wife for that.” She tells them.

“So how are you doing?” Barb asks her.

“Good, Y/n is trying to keep me busy though so I don’t have a lot of chances to think about the fact that I’m 60.” Melissa tells them. “Oh Sweet Cheeks and his girlfriend had 4 babies this morning.” She says and Janine’s jaw drops.

“No way! Can I come over and see them?” Janine asks her.

“Maybe when they're bigger, they’re really fragile and Sweet Cheeks bit me when I tried to grab one.” She explains and Janine nods.

“Auntie Mel! Come dance!” One of her nieces says as she comes up to Melissa and pulls her up.

“Calm down, Laura, I’m coming!” Melissa tells her niece. Melissa gets to the dance floor and the song ‘Bitch’ from Meredith Brooks starts playing and she can’t help but sing the chorus very loudly. “I’m a little bit of everything, all rolled into one!” She sings and you come over to dance with her. “I’m a bitch, I’m a lover. I’m a child, I’m a mother. I’m a sinner, I’m a saint. I do not feel ashamed! I’m your Hell, I’m your dream, I’m nothing in between.” She sings as she dances with you.

“Woah! Sing it loud cuz!” Annette says as she’s dancing close by.

Half an hour later you see Melissa go near the DJ and she’s handed the mic and the music turns off.

“Hey everyone!” Melissa says and you’re wondering what she’s going to say. “First of all I would like to thank you all for being here and coming to celebrate my 60th birthday. Oh wow, it feels weird saying that number. Anyway, I would also like to thank my lovely wife, Y/n and my siblings for putting all this together.” She says and everyone starts clapping. “I just want to say that I would like to thank Y/n for giving me a family. I have a beautiful wife, 3 adorable children and my Guinea pig just had 4 babies so I have family pets now too. I didn’t think I would have everything I dreamed of after I divorced Joe, but I’m happy about my life now. So thank you again and let’s get back to dancing!” She says and gives the mic back as the music starts again.

“You’re sweet.” You tell her as she comes to stand next to you and she hums. You then lean towards her, right at her ear. “I have another present for you.” You whisper before you pull back and wink at her.

“Oh ya?” She asks and you nod before you pull your shirt back slightly and show her the purple lingerie that you have on. “You’re making me want to leave my birthday party early.” She tells you and you hum.

“Well the twins and Amelia will be getting tired soon.” You tell her and she smiles before she continues dancing with you.

20 minutes later you’re watching as Melissa and Amelia are dancing together while you have a couple snacks and a dance break. Melissa picks Amelia up and holds her up in the air and starts spinning in a circle.

“Wee!!!” Amelia exclaims and giggles. “Again Mamma, again!” Amelia tells Melissa.

“Oh I can’t Tesoro or I’ll get dizzy.” Melissa tells her as she puts her daughter down. She then gets Amelia to spin around and Amelia is giggling as she’s dancing with her mother.

“Hey Y/n.” One of Melissa’s cousins comes up to you and you look at her.

“Ya?”

“Caty is crying and we think it’s because she’s tired.” She tells you and you immediately get up and go over to the twins.

“Oh, come here, sweetie.” You tell Caty as you pick her up.

Melissa ends up looking up and sees you’re not where you were a couple minutes ago. She looks around and sees you holding Caty and trying to calm her down as she’s crying.

“Come on, Tesoro, let’s go check on your siblings.” Melissa says as she grabs Amelia’s hand and heads over to where you and the twins are.

“Mommy, is Cat ok?” Amelia asks once they reach you.

“She’s a bit tired, sweetheart.” You tell her as you soothe Caty and she falls asleep on your chest.

“She looks very comfortable right now.” Melissa says as she goes over and looks at her daughter sleeping on you. “Although I don’t blame her, your chest is very comfortable to sleep on.” Melissa says softly and you chuckle at her comment. You then watch as Amelia helps Nico stand up and then starts dancing with him. “Aw, my perfect little family.” Melissa says as she hugs you from behind.

“We should get going, seeing as one of our kids fell asleep on me.” You tell her and she nods as she checks the time on her phone.

“It is 6 o'clock and we did cut their nap short.” She says and you nod.

You then both say your goodbyes to everyone before you leave.

Once you get home you put the twins on the floor so they can start playing with their toys and Amelia chooses to join them. You both sit on the couch watching them and cuddling each other. All of a sudden Caty starts crying while Nico is banging on the piano toy.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” You ask her as you pick her up and sit her on your lap. She continues crying and you’re trying to soothe her but you can barely hear yourself as Nico is playing that piano toy loudly. “Can you get Nico another toy to play with please?” You ask Melissa and she gets up and takes the piano away. As soon as Melissa takes the piano, Caty stops crying. “Aw, do you have sensitive ears?” You ask Caty and you see Melissa hand Nico a book with different textures. Melissa comes over to sit down next to you again and you hand her Caty.

“Hello my little dolcezza.” She says to Caty and you love all the nicknames she calls them. “I’m your mamma.” She tells Caty and Caty just stares at her.

“Doggy.” You both hear Nico say as he feels the texture of a dog.

You put the twins to bed just before 9 while Melissa goes and reads Amelia a nighttime story. You hear Melissa come into the bedroom while you’re brushing your hair and you turn to see her walking over to you.

“Have you noticed that Nico seems to be more vocal than Caty?” She asks you and you look at her.

“I have but she could just be a little late. If she’s still not saying by 2 then we can look into it.” You tell her and she nods.

“Now, I believe I was promised a birthday gift.” She says as she wraps her arms around your waist and trails up your stomach to your boobs. She noticed you still have a bra on so she turns you around and lifts your shirt to reveal the lingerie from earlier. This time she’s able to see it and sees a little bow in the middle. “Hm, my favourite gift to unwrap.” She says before bringing you to the bed.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

@sasheemo

@midnight-lestrange

@dashbag-art

@morgananyx

@schmentisgf

@cblanchetts

@that-october-night

@schemmentigfs

@italianaidiota

@ambessas-doll

@ankhsta

@olderwomenenthusiast

@ackleybloodybridge

@angelcorner

@creaturesaphique

@cupldscntrl

@calliopetworld

@alwaysgoodnight

@yoyo-w

Let me know if you want to be added!

[chigiridreams]

Summary: You have decided to try a new fetish with your boyfriend. You guarantee that Hyoma will enjoy it even if he has no such fetish

Warning: soft nsfw, footjob

Word Count: 942

SOLE SATISFACTION

That evening, you were having a relaxing time with your boyfriend. Your conversation was light, jumping from one topic to another, but there was something you had been wanting to ask for a long time. Finally, gathering your courage, you pursed your lips slightly and turned to him.

“Hyoma, have you ever thought about trying different fetishes?”

Hyoma tilted his head slightly as if in thought. “Hmm… I don’t think I have any specific fetishes. But I’m open to trying things,” he said with a slight smile.

That was exactly the answer you wanted to hear. Shifting slightly, you stretched out your legs and watched him with a seductive expression.

“For example, would you like me to give you a footjob?”

Hyoma paused for a moment. His eyes locked onto yours, then instinctively drifted to your feet. You knew he always found your legs attractive, but he seemed to have no particular thoughts about your feet. After a few seconds of silence, he smiled slightly.

“To be honest, I don’t have a foot fetish… but your touch always feels good… so why not?”

His answer satisfied you. Smiling softly, you sat up, slowly moving your toes as you slid them toward him. Hyoma seemed to hold his breath for a moment—he wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist your touch.

Meanwhile, your hands gently reached for his long, silky hair. Hyoma’s hair had an irresistible allure to you. Every time you were close to him, you had the urge to run your fingers through those soft, delicate strands. Noticing this, Hyoma raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Do you really love playing with my hair that much?”

As your fingers glided through his dark locks, you narrowed your eyes slightly.

“I love it even more than you think… It’s so soft that sometimes I just want to run my hands through it all day.”

Hyoma tilted his head slightly, letting out a pleased hum. “You’re spoiling me too much, you know?”

“This isn’t spoiling,” you said, pressing your foot against him a little more. “We’re just discovering different ways to have fun together.”

Hyoma took a deep breath, his eyes slowly closing. At that moment, he realized this experience would bring him more pleasure than he had initially thought.

You could feel Hyoma’s deep breaths, his body gradually surrendering to you. You became more intentional with your movements, determined to push him to the edge. First, you lightly brushed your toes against his hardened arousal, starting with gentle movements, just easing him into the sensation.

Hyoma leaned his head back, biting his lower lip. “This really…,” he murmured but couldn’t finish his sentence, as you dragged the sole of your foot slowly along his length.

“Go on, Hyoma. Tell me how it feels.”

Hyoma squinted his eyes at you, then hesitated for a moment before fully giving in to the sensation, spreading his legs slightly. Taking this as encouragement, you increased the intensity of your movements. You pressed the arch of your foot against him, keeping a steady rhythm.

Within minutes, you realized he was not only getting used to it but also enjoying every moment. First, you caressed him slowly with the side of your foot, then added a bit of pressure with your heel, offering him a different kind of stimulation. Hyoma let out shallow breaths in response to your touch.

“Shit, this… feels weird but incredible.”

Watching him with a sweet smile, you teased, “Good… Then let’s take it a little further, shall we?”

Lifting your foot slightly, you curled your toes around him, fully embracing his hardness. Now, there was no mere surface-level touch—your feet were completely enveloping him. To create a more slippery sensation, you added a slight bit of moisture, making your movements even smoother, sending shivers through Hyoma’s body.

“Y/N…” His voice was husky. He had completely surrendered to you. His hands unconsciously gripped the bed, and his legs trembled involuntarily. The faster you moved, the more intense his reactions became.

Hyoma’s head fell back, his breathing turning erratic. You quickened your pace just a little more, pushing him further toward his limit. When you tightened your grip with your feet, wrapping him completely, Hyoma suddenly let out a deep groan, his head dropping forward.

His entire body tensed, his muscles quivered, and he let out a shuddering breath. Then, warmth suddenly spread across your feet. The intense wave of release coated your skin completely. As Hyoma trembled, you took great satisfaction in watching the effects of your touch on him.

For a few seconds, the two of you simply sat there, catching your breath. Hyoma was still lost in the aftermath of pleasure, while you felt the sticky warmth on your feet. Smirking, you lifted your feet slightly, showing them to him.

“That got pretty messy, Hyoma.”

Hyoma opened his eyes to look at you, still trying to regain his composure. Then, his gaze dropped to your feet, and he frowned slightly. “Did you plan this?”

“Maybe,” you said with a playful giggle, shifting your feet slightly to emphasize the mess. “Looks like I need some cleaning up too.”

Hyoma took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at you. “Then I guess I owe you something in return, don’t I?”

Hearing that, you locked eyes with him, excitement flickering in your gaze. If that meant he was willing to indulge in your own fetish as well…

That night was going to be a long one.

[airandyeah]

Sins (Alpha Geto X Omega Gojo X Omega Reader) Part.16

My Masterlist Series Masterlist Warnings: Obvious A/B/O dynamics, fated mates, suggestive comments or actions, just generally Minors DNI-just in case. This will be similar to Pink Pony Club, where I just mark every chapter as 18+

The room was bathed in soft morning light, the kind that crept in lazily through the curtains, warm and golden. For the first time in what felt like forever, you woke up before them. There was no weight pinning you down this morning, no arms caging you between strong bodies. Just the steady, rhythmic sound of breathing, the comforting scent of them lingering in the air.

Satoru was curled up on his side, his breath warm against Suguru’s chest, his fingers loosely fisted in the fabric of his mate’s shirt. Suguru lay flat on his back, one arm flung over Satoru in a lazy claim, the other resting palm-up, like he had fallen asleep reaching for you.

You let yourself just watch them for a while, your chest swelling with something impossibly tender. Love. Safety. The realization that no matter how much had been taken from you, you still had this. Them.

The moment didn’t last long. Satoru stirred, blinking blearily before his lips curled into a sleepy grin.

“You’re staring,” he murmured, voice still thick with sleep.

“Maybe I just like looking at you,” you teased, brushing a stray piece of white hair from his forehead.

Suguru hummed, eyes still closed. “Who wouldn’t?”

Satoru stretched with a pleased noise, rolling onto you in an instant, pressing his full weight down with a dramatic sigh. “Mmm, our mate loves us. It’s so nice waking up adored.”

“Get off,” you laughed, shoving at him.

“Nope.”

Suguru finally cracked an eye open, watching the two of you with lazy amusement. “Should I intervene?”

Satoru gasped, scandalized. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

You scoffed. “Moose and Hime are more on your side than I am.”

As if summoned, Moose jumped onto the bed, sniffing at Satoru’s hair before stepping over him to press his face into your shoulder. Hime wasn’t far behind, the sleek black cat curling up right against Suguru, her tail flicking in approval.

Satoru pouted dramatically. “Traitors! How am I supposed to win favorite mate if even the cats like you better?”

“Maybe if you didn’t smother me first thing in the morning, you’d have a better chance,” you mused, scratching Moose’s ears.

Suguru hummed in amusement. “I don’t know. I think our mate prefers my patience and wisdom.”

Satoru scoffed. “Yeah, right. I’m the fun one. The hot one. The one who—” He paused, then his lips curled mischievously. “—the one who’s gonna give her pups.”

You choked. Suguru snorted.

Satoru only grinned wider, smug. “What? It’s true! Someone’s gotta carry on our genes. And between the two of us, I think we all know who’d make the cutest babies.”

Suguru rolled his eyes. “That’s your argument?”

You, still recovering from your shock, buried your face in your hands. “Oh my god.”

Satoru gasped, delighted. “She’s thinking about it! She’s considering—”

“I’m not.”

Suguru leaned over, tugging you into his chest while throwing a lazy arm over Satoru to keep him from pouncing again. “Alright, alright. We’ll talk about it when she’s ready.”

Satoru huffed dramatically. “Fine. But just know, my offer is always on the table.”

You groaned. “You two are insufferable.”

“And yet, you love us.”

Suguru chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “She does.”

And you did. Even when they were idiots. Even when they teased you. Even when they made your face heat up first thing in the morning.

You loved them.

And that realization settled deep in your bones—warm, unwavering, and steady as their arms around you. ~~~ Dinner was peaceful, the warmth of home settling around you in a way that felt natural now. The three of you sat at the table, sharing bites of food, comfortable silence filling the gaps between easy conversation. Moose sat at your feet, tail flicking contentedly, while Hime perched on the windowsill, watching the world outside with her usual air of indifference.

It wasn’t until halfway through the meal that you finally voiced the thought that had been lingering since that morning.

“…Would you?”

Satoru blinked mid-bite, glancing at you in confusion. “Would we what?”

You hesitated, rolling your chopsticks between your fingers before looking up at them. “Would you…want pups?”

Suguru’s movements stilled, his dark eyes meeting yours with something unreadable, while Satoru—who had just been chewing like a contented fool—froze completely.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I never really thought about it before,” you admitted, glancing down at your plate. “But…this morning, when you joked about it, I realized I didn’t know how you actually felt about it.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, as if snapping out of his daze, Satoru was the first to react—his chopsticks clattering to the table as his lips split into the biggest grin.

“Would we want pups?” he repeated, eyes glinting with excitement. “Would we—? Oh my god, yes. A hundred percent yes. Can you imagine how adorable they’d be? The cutest little brats ever—white hair, dark hair, maybe a mix—oh, and they’d totally inherit my good looks—”

Suguru reached out and clamped a hand over Satoru’s mouth, effectively silencing him. His expression was much softer, more thoughtful, as he turned to you. “Are you thinking about it?”

You hesitated again. “I… don’t know,” you admitted honestly. “I never really considered it. I guess…I just wanted to know how you two felt first.”

Suguru nodded slowly, as if digesting your words. Then, after a beat, his lips curled into the smallest, fondest smile. “I think…it’s something I’d like. Someday.”

Satoru, still muffled under Suguru’s palm, made an indignant noise and pried his hand away. “Someday? I could start right now.”

You smacked his arm, face heating. “I just said I don’t know, you menace.”

Suguru sighed but was clearly amused. “You’ll have to forgive him,” he said, resting his chin against his palm. “He’s been on about this since before we even met you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Satoru huffed, pouting at Suguru. “You wanted them too!”

“I did,” Suguru admitted with a hum. “But unlike you, I wasn’t planning on terrorizing our mate about it on day one.”

Satoru rolled his eyes but turned back to you, softer now. “You don’t have to decide anything, y’know,” he murmured, reaching for your hand. “No pressure. No expectations. But…yeah. If you ever did want that…we’d be ready. Always.”

Suguru nodded in agreement, his own hand covering yours. “Whenever you’re ready. Or even if you never are.”

You glanced between them—their warmth, their unwavering support—and exhaled, a small smile forming despite yourself.

“…Okay.”

Satoru beamed. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeated, squeezing their hands. “No promises. But…maybe one day.”

Satoru practically vibrated in his seat, but Suguru just chuckled, shaking his head.

And just like that, the conversation shifted again, flowing back into casual warmth, teasing, and laughter.

No pressure. No expectations. Just love. A few days passed when Satoru had practically shoved you out the door, grinning like a fool as he waved you off. “Go, go, go! Spend time with your Alpha—I promise I won’t die of loneliness while you’re gone. Maybe.” He decided that he has hogged your attention a little too much- You still needed to spend time with Sugu too though.

You had barely managed to laugh before Suguru whisked you away, his hand warm and grounding in yours as he led you down the city streets.

It was a quiet kind of night—the air crisp but not cold, the lights of the city twinkling above as the two of you walked at an easy pace. There was something…settling about being with Suguru like this, just the two of you. No distractions, no teasing interruptions from Satoru—just him.

“I feel like we haven’t done this in a while,” you admitted, giving his hand a squeeze.

Suguru hummed, glancing down at you with a soft smile. “We haven’t. Satoru was right—he does hog your time.”

You snorted. “Well, he is a very clingy Omega.”

“Mm. But I suppose that’s why we love him,” Suguru mused, pulling you a little closer as you walked. “Still, I’ve missed having you to myself.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest at his words, and you leaned against him. “I’ve missed it too.”

Your date wasn’t extravagant—Suguru had planned a simple evening, just the two of you sharing a meal at a quiet, tucked-away restaurant he knew you’d love. He had always been the more thoughtful one, finding places that matched your mood, ensuring that wherever he took you, you’d feel comfortable and at ease.

The restaurant was cozy, candle-lit, and intimate. As you settled into your seat across from him, you realized just how much you’d missed this—the gentle back-and-forth, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world.

At one point, as you laughed at something he said, Suguru just…stared—his dark eyes warm, something soft and unreadable in them.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head.

He exhaled, shaking his head with a fond smile. “Nothing. Just thinking about how much I love you.”

Your heart skipped. He had always been straightforward like that, never hesitating to say how he felt. And it never failed to leave you breathless.

You reached across the table, fingers brushing against his before he laced them together with yours. “I love you too.”

Suguru brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours.

The rest of the night passed in the same warmth, the two of you caught in your own little world.

When you finally returned home, Satoru was waiting—wrapped in a blanket, looking pitiful, Moose and Hime sprawled beside him.

“Took you long enough,” he pouted dramatically.

Suguru rolled his eyes, but you just laughed, letting Satoru pull you into a hug.

And as your two mates settled in beside you for the night, you realized just how full your heart felt. ~~~ The apartment had been quiet most of the day, save for Moose and Hime’s usual antics. You had been lounging when a knock at the door pulled you from your lazy peace.

Opening it, you found Nanami standing there, looking as put together as ever, despite the fact that he wasn’t in his usual suit. Instead, he wore something more relaxed—still polished, but not so stiff.

“I figured you should learn a few things,” he said simply, stepping inside when you moved aside. “Self-defense, in case they’re not around.”

It wasn’t like you could argue with that logic. So, after rolling your shoulders and stretching out, you let him show you the basics—how to break a grip, how to land a solid hit if you ever needed to.

Nanami was patient, guiding you with a steady hand and sharp eyes. You could tell he had done this before—probably for Satoru, and maybe even Suguru.

But as you moved through the motions, something different caught your attention. A new scent—faint but there. It was warm, familiar in a way you couldn’t place, but definitely not one he usually carried.

You paused, brows furrowing as you tilted your head at him. “Nanami… you smell different.”

He exhaled through his nose, adjusting his sleeves before meeting your gaze. And then, to your surprise, the smallest smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“My wife had a pup recently,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual.

Your eyes widened, warmth spreading through your chest. “Wait, really?”

He nodded. “A few weeks ago. I’ve been taking some time away from work to be with them.”

A grin broke across your face as you lightly smacked his arm. “You didn’t tell me? That’s huge, Nanami!”

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “It wasn’t something I needed to announce.”

You huffed but couldn’t keep the joy from your voice. “Boy or girl?”

“A girl,” he answered, something unshakably fond in his tone. “She’s… perfect.”

Your heart melted at that. Seeing Nanami—a man who was always so serious, so reserved—look soft at the mere mention of his pup? It was enough to make your eyes sting.

“I need to meet her,” you declared.

His lips twitched in amusement. “In time.”

You grinned, bouncing on your feet. “Satoru’s gonna lose his mind when he finds out.”

Nanami sighed. “That’s why I haven’t told him yet.”

You laughed. Fair enough.

Nanami raised a brow at you, crossing his arms. "And what about you?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Me?"

He hummed in confirmation, watching you carefully.

You shifted on your feet, glancing away. "I—" You hesitated, chewing on the inside of your cheek. "I never really thought about it before. Not until Satoru started teasing about it."

Nanami let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Teasing, huh? With him, that usually means he's already serious about it."

You exhaled a soft laugh, rubbing your arms. "Yeah… I figured. But I don’t know. It’s a big decision, right? And things have just settled down. I finally feel normal again."

Nanami nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It is a big decision. And it's one you shouldn't rush into just because Satoru wants it."

You smiled a little, appreciating his blunt honesty. "I know. I just… I do think about it sometimes. About what it’d be like. Having pups, a family with them."

His gaze softened. "Then take your time. You'll know when you're ready. And if you never are, that’s just as valid."

You let out a slow breath, nodding. "Yeah… Thanks, Nanami."

He inclined his head, then smirked slightly. "But if you do have pups, I expect Satoru to be the one completely out of his depth while Suguru actually knows what he's doing."

You snorted, laughter bubbling up. "Oh, absolutely. Satoru will be a mess. A very excited mess, but a mess nonetheless."

Nanami chuckled, shaking his head. "Make sure you prepare for that chaos."

You grinned. "I live with them. I'm always preparing for chaos." ~~~ You weren’t expecting much when Satoru and Suguru invited you to the gym with them. Maybe some casual weightlifting, a bit of cardio, and a lot of Satoru goofing off between sets. What you weren’t expecting was to be absolutely wrecked by the sight of your sweaty, shirtless mates in their full, glistening glory.

Leaning against the wall, you swallowed hard as you watched Suguru press an absurd amount of weight, muscles flexing and straining under his skin. His hair was pulled into a messy bun, a few loose strands clinging to his damp forehead. His deep grunts of exertion sent heat straight to your stomach.

And then there was Satoru.

The smug bastard caught you staring and winked. "Like what you see, sweetheart?" He tossed his shirt over his shoulder, revealing his ridiculously toned torso as he casually curled dumbbells like they weighed nothing. "You are drooling a little."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes despite the warmth creeping up your neck. "You wish," you shot back, trying to regain some dignity.

Suguru, ever observant, smirked as he racked his weights. He stalked toward you, arms glistening, sweat dripping down his chest, and leaned down just enough to invade your space. "You’re staring," he murmured, voice low and teasing.

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, crossing your arms. "Well, it’s not my fault you two decided to look like this today."

Satoru snickered, throwing an arm around Suguru’s shoulders. "What, this old thing?" He gestured dramatically to himself. "Babe, we look like this every day."

You huffed, pushing past them toward the water cooler. "Unfair is what it is," you muttered under your breath.

Satoru was suddenly at your side, grinning ear to ear. "You know," he purred, leaning in, "we could always work out together more often. I’d be happy to spot you."

Suguru hummed in agreement, stepping behind you. "Or we could help you with some stretches. Get those muscles nice and loose."

You turned, narrowing your eyes at them. "I know what you two are doing."

Satoru wiggled his eyebrows. "Yeah? And is it working?"

You exhaled sharply, grabbing your water bottle and shoving past them. "I hate you both."

"You love us!" Satoru called after you, laughing.

Suguru chuckled as they watched you walk off, muttering about ridiculously hot alphas under your breath.

"She totally loves us," Satoru whispered.

Suguru smirked. "Obviously."

They didn’t let up for the rest of the session.

Every time they switched to a new workout, one or both of them found a way to mess with you. When they moved to squats, Satoru made an obnoxious show of flexing in the mirror, catching your eye with a knowing smirk.

“Babe, check this out,” he said before sinking into a perfect squat, exaggeratedly slow. “You see this? This is peak performance.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, I see it, alright.”

Suguru, ever the smooth one, followed suit but without the dramatics. “If you’re so distracted,” he murmured, coming close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, “why not join us? We’d love to see what you can do.”

You weren’t about to let them win. Crossing your arms, you gave them your best unimpressed look. “Are you two actually working out or just putting on a show for me?”

Satoru snorted, wiping sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt—the one he threw off only a few minutes ago. “Sweetheart, we always look this good. It’s not our fault you’re having a hard time keeping your eyes off us.”

You exhaled sharply, determined to ignore them. But then they moved to bench presses, and that’s when the real teasing started.

Suguru lay back on the bench first, gripping the bar while Satoru hovered above, spotting him. You knew they were up to something when Satoru glanced your way with a devious grin.

“Suguru, you should be careful,” he mused. “If you push too hard, you might give our girl ideas.”

Suguru lifted the bar easily, setting a steady rhythm. “Ideas?” he echoed, as if he didn’t already know where this was going.

Satoru turned to you, blue eyes glittering with mischief. “You know, about how strong her mates are. How easily we could just pick her up, toss her around—”

Your face burned. “You’re unbearable,” you muttered, turning away to grab a towel.

Satoru cackled. “C’mon, princess, don’t act like you’re not loving the view.”

Suguru put the bar back in place and sat up, rubbing his towel over his neck. “I think she’s embarrassed,” he teased, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You whirled on them, pointing a finger. “I came here to work out, not to be relentlessly bullied by my ridiculously handsome mates.”

The moment the word handsome left your lips, Satoru gasped dramatically. “You admit it!”

Suguru chuckled, standing up and wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “So, you do like watching us.”

You groaned, pushing at his chest, but he wouldn’t budge. “I hate you both,” you muttered.

Satoru draped himself over your other side, trapping you between them. “Nah, you love us,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You’re just shy about it.”

Suguru hummed in agreement, resting his chin on your shoulder. “It’s okay, love. We already know how much you adore us.”

You grumbled something unintelligible, but neither of them let up, peppering your face with kisses until you finally gave in and giggled.

You were never coming to the gym with them again.

Taglist is always open for anyone! Just comment, send an ask, or a DM and I'll add you! Taglist: @purpleicing , mini-kunoichi , @gravity-valley , @jinjen , @c0quin , @makingtimemine , @asweetblueberry2 , @vyxte I think that's everyone who asked to be tagged, I apologize if I missed anyone!!! Perma-tags: @thenightperson

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Profilers Planning

Season Three Episode Eight

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader (Aaron Hotchner’s Sister)

Words: 2093

Series Masterlist

Summary: With the wedding a few months away, the team gets together to help lighten the love birds’ load. 

Notes: Something short and sweet this week after the last two dramatic ones. (You guys deserve a break haha) Thank you all so much for the continued love and support for this series. We're almost done with season three!

-

“What if we just eloped?” You suggested, a small twinge of panic lacing your voice. “I-I mean, it’s not like we need to do the whole ‘before God and everybody thing.’ We could just have a quiet little courthouse-”

“If you say courthouse wedding, I throw my baby pink pumps at you,” Penelope said from the backseat of Spencer’s pale little Volvo Amazon. 

You turned around in the seat as Spence pulled up to the curb. 

“Please,” you begged. “Please don’t make me do this.”

She just grinned and hopped out of the car, greeted by JJ and Emily, who were already there. Spencer bit his knuckle to hold back a laugh. You flicked his cheek. 

“Ow!” 

“Don’t forget, you’re going to the tailor at noon,” you snapped, opening your door. 

He gave you a smile and a small wave. “Have fun.” 

You glowered and he drove away, leaving you and your three bridesmaids alone. At the dress shop. 

Penelope clapped, a squeal escaping her lips. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun.” 

JJ raised her brows. Emily gave you a half-apologetic smirk. 

“Alright,” you huffed, putting your hands on your hips and looking up at the sparkly sign. “Let’s get this over with.”

-

Spencer Reid felt like a pushpin. The short man with a scraggly beard scurried around him like a Beatle, sticking a needle through an elbow patch here, accidentally poking his kneecap there. He stared at the metal frame of the mirror in front of him to distract himself from Morgan’s snickering. 

“I take it she’s not going for a princess gown then?” The older agent teased. 

Reid frowned and tried not to jump as the tailor jabbed his leg again. 

“I told you we should have gone to mine,” Rossi muttered. 

“I can’t,” Reid took a slow breath, “afford yours. And I’m not having you pay for anything else. You’ve already offered too much.”

“It’s our first team wedding,” he shrugged. “Besides, Y/N’s like a daughter to me.”

“I’ll let her know you said that,” Hotch smiled. 

Rossi clicked his tongue. “Don’t you dare.” 

-

You didn’t want to come out. 

“I look ridiculous,” you called through the door of your dressingroom. It wasn’t all bad. The dress’s lace sinched nicely around your waist, but the sleeves puffed awkwardly at your shoulders and the skirt looked like it was trying to swallow you. 

“This is the one I picked,” Penelope exclaimed. She led the others in a chant of ‘show us’ that you couldn’t ignore. 

When you stepped out, Emily’s eyes widened, JJ almost choked on her sparkling water, and Penelope grinned. 

“See?” Penelope said. “Doesn’t she look beautiful?” 

The others remained silent. 

“I feel like a creampuff.” 

Emily snickered. 

“A very cute creampuff,” JJ said, trying to sound optimistic and failing. 

Penelope stood up from the plush sofa, shaking her head. “You know what. You’re totally right.” She looked through the nearby displays and hangers to choose her next victim. “Even though you look totally stunning, that dress is definitely not you.” 

Haley would know what to pick.

The thought entered your mind before you could stop it and, though you tried to keep your face from falling, you knew they all noticed the shift. Damn profilers. 

“Y/N?” JJ prodded gently. 

“I’m fine,” you blurted, not even convincing yourself. 

Emily raised a brow. 

JJ patted the seat beside her. 

Penelope came back with three dresses. 

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you sat with them. “I was just thinking about Haley.” You held up a hand as their faces fell more than yours. “Don’t. She’d hate that.”

A quiet fell over them, all thinking of the right thing to say. It was JJ who spoke first. 

“She would have loved this.”

“She never thought I’d get married,” you said. 

Emily’s head tilted. “Why?”

“Because I told her I wouldn't." Folding your hands in your overly poofed lap, you focused on picking at your fingernails- a habit you’d picked up from your fiance. “After everything that’s happened to me, I never thought I could actually be…”

“Happy?” JJ finished, laying a hand on your shoulder. 

“Marriage, kids, family.” You shrugged. “Outside of Aaron, it was all something so far out of reach, I never bothered.” Finally looking up, you gave them all a small smile. “But then Spencer happened and I guess it doesn’t seem so far away anymore.” 

JJ and Emily nodded. Penelope dabbed her eyes. 

“That is possibly the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” she cried. Sniffing loudly, she held up the hangers in her grip. “Now we have to find you the perfect dress.” 

-

“Are you sure?” Reid asked, turning around to see the tux in full. It was simple enough. Black with a purple vest that you had suggested.

“It’s like a pop of, well, you,” you’d said, “beneath all of the formality.” 

“Kid, it only matters what you think,” Morgan said. He grinned wide as a tomcat. “But, if you want my opinion, I’d say you clean up pretty nice.”

“A perfect fit,” the tailor beamed, holding up his hands to show his work. 

Rossi dismissed the man with a wave, having done the final few stitches himself so the young agent wouldn’t have pant legs longer than a bride’s veil. 

“It looks very nice, Reid,” Hotch said, a rare smile teasing his features. 

“It’s better than nice.” Rossi patted him on the back, looking in the mirror. “It’s almost regal.” 

Reid watched his reflection shyly. 

Rossi glanced up and frowned. “I’d do something about the hair, though.” 

Reid whirled around. “What’s wrong with my hair?” 

-

You shook in front of the changing room mirror, almost afraid to look. Just looking down at the elegant shape, the perfect way it curved to you as though made to fit, and the delicate details that still somehow seemed to fit that of a grand ball- it was too perfect. You almost didn’t want to touch the skirt so you could fully turn around, afraid you’d somehow ruin it just by holding the fabric in your hands. 

When you turned, it made it worse. Seeing how stunning it was. 

“Y/N?” JJ called out. “Everything okay?” 

“Y-” Your voice cracked. “Yeah.”

“Go out there.” Haley’s voice beamed in your head and it was like she was standing there with you, standing behind you in the mirror. “Show the world how beautiful you are, Y/N.” 

You held a hand to your chest, your heart. 

And opened the door. 

Emily’s mouth fell open.

JJ’s smile grew. 

Penelope burst into tears. 

Stepping up on the pedestal, you looked in the mirror and imagined Haley with them. She was the one you thought of when you picked it out. 

“This is it,” you said, tears welling. 

-

Everyone gathered at Rossi’s house after, to help with the other details of the wedding over a dinner made by the maestro himself. There was still the venue to find, the date to officially set, the catering, etcetera. It all made you rather sick to your stomach, despite the smell of Rossi’s excellent cooking.

“How’d dress shopping go?” Spencer asked, pouring you a glass of water. 

You shrugged, playing it off. “I found one that isn’t terrible. How about your tux?”

He shrugged, playing it off. “Fine.” 

“Dinner’s ready!” Penelope shouted, making Rossi wince. 

“They’re all right there, Garcia. Do you have to shriek?” 

“I will not contain my excitement, sir,” she said. “There is too much to celebrate.” She yelled again for everyone to come sit at the table. Dave rolled his eyes, but smiled to himself as he plated the food. 

Everyone gathered around pasta that smelled like heaven and crystal glasses you almost didn’t want to drink out of they were so pretty. Spencer and Penelope sat on either side of you, Derek on the other side of Spence, and Dave at the head of the table. Aaron smiled softly across from you while Emily and JJ went over what you’d decided for bridesmaid dresses. 

Penelope clinked her glass with her fork and stood. “I have an announcement.”

“Babygirl, this is supposed to be about them,” Derek teased, earning a smack to the shoulder. 

“It is,” she exclaimed. Setting down her cup, she pulled a picture from her purse. “I happened to find the perfect venue for this wedding and I may or may not have booked it on the way here, so please say yes.” 

She handed the picture to Derek who handed it to Spencer. 

His brow furrowed. “Is this-”

“The bookstore where we met?” You gasped, staring down at the small shop with old windows and a crooked sign. 

Penelope bit her lip. “So is that a yes then?”

Spencer stood and hugged her. “Thank you, Garcia. You’re right. It’s perfect.” 

When they parted, she almost tackled you. 

“Be careful, you’ll knock over the agnolotti del plin,” Dave scolded. 

“Oh, shush you old fuddy duddy. They’re getting married!” Penelope pulled you both into her arms. 

Dave turned to Aaron. “Did she just call me a ‘fuddy duddy’?”

“I think she did,” Aaron chuckled. 

After good food and plenty of laughs, Dave invited you out to the backyard- mostly so he could have one of his signature cigars. Penelope dragged you along with her, talking about floral arrangements that match the genre sections while Spence hung back. 

“Morgan, wait.” He stepped into an alcove off the kitchen, urging the other agent to follow. 

Brows drawn, he went with him. “Everything alright, kid?”

“Yeah, um, I just need to, um, ask you something important.” Spence scratched the back of his neck, suddenly very jittery. 

Morgan crossed his arms. “Alright. Shoot, super genius.” 

“For a wedding, it’s traditional to have a wedding party,” he stammered. “Well, Y/N’s picked hers and she’s decided that she won’t have a maid of honor because she would’ve wanted it to be Haley and the other three are perfectly fine with that-”

“I’m assuming there’s a point here, Reid.”

“Will you be my best man?” Reid blurted out, voice shaky and lips forming a thin-lipped smile. 

Morgan blinked at him, surprised. Then, that wide grin spread across his face. 

“Don’t be you about this,” Reid pleaded. 

Morgan draped an arm across his shoulders. “Then you should have asked somebody else, kid, because you are going to get the full Derek Morgan Best Man treatment.”

“That sounds illegal.” 

Morgan laughed and pulled Reid out to join the rest of you. 

“I’m going to be the best man,” he beamed. 

“And here I was going to steal you for my side of the wedding party,” you pouted mockingly. 

Emily snorted. “You would have looked great in our dresses.” 

“Laugh all you want, but I am going to throw this man the best bachelor party ever.” Morgan rustled Reid’s longer hair. 

“Well, we’re going to throw Y/N the best bachelorette party ever,” Emily challenged. 

A smirk took over Derek’s smile. “Oh, you’re on Prentiss.”

You brought a hand to your lips to contain your laughter, leaning over to your fiance. 

“What have we gotten ourselves into?” 

He shook his head and kissed your cheek. “Don’t you have one more thing to ask?” He whispered, giving your hand an encouraging squeeze. Spence nodded toward your brother. “Go ahead. I’ll distract everyone else.” 

You pressed a kiss to his lips. “Thanks.”

He went back to the others to talk about some other details he didn’t really care about and you grabbed Aaron.

“Don’t tell me,” he said, “you want me as a bridesmaid.” 

“No.” You elbowed him. “I have an arguably more important job for you, big brother.”

“Yeah?” He said. “And what’s that.”

“Making sure I don’t trip down the aisle?” You took a deep breath. “Aaron, I want you to give me away.”

At first he didn’t say anything. He just stared at you, his usual stoicism replaced by the love only the person who raised you could understand. Aaron wrapped his arms around you, holding back tears. 

“Of course,” he said, voice cracking. “Yes. Of course.” 

With more tearful embrace, the two of you looked back at the group of people who’d become your family. 

“She would have been so proud of you,” Aaron whispered. “You know that right?”

You nodded, eyes falling on Spencer. The one who taught you that you could be loved. That you could be whole after years of feeling broken. That you could be beautiful. Just like Haley said. You leaned your head on your brother’s shoulder. 

“I know.”