#rather than having to move his jacket back

[rotten7rat]

My favourite kind of Jason is Cropped Jacket™

[maskedbyghost]

Part 3 of fuck buddies with Simon

You didn’t wear anything fancy. Just jeans, a sweater you didn’t have to think too hard about, and your hair pulled back because you didn’t have the energy to fight with it.

You weren’t even sure why you texted him. It was impulsive, sort of. A moment of weakness, maybe. Or maybe it wasn’t weak at all—maybe it was brave, letting him back in even just a little. You told yourself it was just coffee. Just a talk. Just two people who used to mean something meeting up like civil adults.

But your hands were shaking a little on the steering wheel the whole way there.

You parked down the block from the coffee shop, needing the walk to settle your nerves. It didn’t help. Your stomach was twisting up like it always used to when he’d come over—when you didn’t know if he was going to be gentle or cold, if he’d stay the night or leave without a word. You hated that the nerves felt the same now, even after everything.

When you pushed open the door to the café, the little bell overhead jingled like something out of a movie. And there he was—already sitting at a table near the window, back straight, fingers wrapped around a cup. He looked up as soon as you walked in, like he’d been watching for you, like he hadn’t taken his eyes off the door since he sat down.

And he smiled.

But something about it made your chest tighten. Your legs felt suddenly heavy, and you paused just inside the door, your fingers curling in the sleeves of your sweater like you needed something to hold onto. You stood there for maybe three seconds—maybe four—and then you turned around.

You couldn’t do this. You thought you could, but you couldn’t. Not when your heart felt like it was ready to give itself away again, not when your head was screaming that he could still break you with a single word.

Your phone was already in your hand as you pushed back out into the street, your fingers moving fast.

I’m sorry. I can’t do this.

You hit send, and at the exact moment, it started to rain.

Of course it did.

It wasn’t even dramatic rain—just that soaking kind that gets into your clothes and hair and makes your shoes squish with every step. You didn’t have an umbrella, nor have the presence of mind to pull your hood up. You just walked fast. Like if you could get far enough away, none of this would feel so raw.

And then you felt it—arms wrapping around you from behind, firm but not forceful. Strong, familiar, and warm, even through the wet fabric of your jacket.

“Don’t go,” Simon said, his voice low and right against your ear. “Please, just… don’t walk away again. Not like this.”

You didn’t say anything at first. You couldn’t. Your whole body was tense, like you were stuck between wanting to lean back into him and wanting to shove him off.

“I get why you left,” he said, and his voice was a little shaky now. “I deserved it. I didn’t give you anything to hold onto. I made you feel like you were just... convenient. And I fucking hate that I did that to you.”

The rain kept coming, dripping down your face and clinging to your lashes, and still, he didn’t let go.

“I don’t want anything from you right now,” he said. “I’m not trying to push. I just wanted to see you. Talk to you. I miss hearing your voice. I miss the way you laugh when you’re annoyed and the way you go quiet when you're thinking too hard. I miss knowing that you were somewhere in the world thinking about me, even if I didn’t deserve it.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“I’m scared,” you said, finally, voice soft and small in the rain.

“I know, love,” he whispered, arms still around you. “I’m scared too. Scared I already lost the best thing I ever had. But I’d rather take a thousand chances to show you I’ve changed than go back to pretending I don’t care.”

You didn’t answer; you didn’t have the words. But you turned slowly in his arms, your hands resting lightly on his chest, and he looked down at you like you were something fragile, something he was terrified of breaking again.

“Come on,” you said after a long moment. “Let’s get out of the rain.”

You brought him back to your place, not because everything was fixed, not because you’d forgiven him, but because you wanted to be warm and dry and maybe not alone tonight. You gave him a towel and made coffee the way you always used to—strong, with just a little bit of sugar because he never took milk.

You didn’t sit on opposite ends of the couch. You sat beside him. Close, but not touching. You talked for a while. About small things. Big things. He told you he started seeing a therapist. You told him about work. You both avoided talking about what would happen next.

For the next few weeks, it was like that. Texts. Calls. The occasional late night spent watching old movies without touching. He didn’t try to kiss you. Didn’t push. He just... showed up. And stayed.

And then one night, you were both laughing about something—some dumb story from years ago—and you turned to him, and he was already looking at you. Not with hunger or desperation, but with a much softer look.

You leaned in first.

Just a little.

And he met you halfway.

And when he kissed you, it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t like before. It was slow, and warm, and full of everything he hadn’t said and everything you hadn’t asked for. Like a promise he didn’t know how to make out loud, but was trying to anyway.

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself kiss him back.

He pulled back just a little, like he was giving you the space to change your mind, like he was scared you’d vanish if he touched you for too long. But you didn’t move. You just looked at him—really looked at him—and felt your heart beat so hard it hurt a little.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and rough around the edges.

You nodded, even though everything inside you felt scrambled and upside-down. “Yeah. I think I am.”

He smiled—barely—and brushed a thumb across your cheek like he was memorizing the feel of your skin. Then he sat back, but not far, not like he was pulling away completely. Just enough to give you space again. And you knew right then he wasn’t going to ruin this by rushing. He was trying, really trying, and you felt it in your chest like a weight slowly lifting.

You both stayed on the couch for a while after that, talking about nothing and everything, voices soft and close.

Eventually, it got late. You stood up to stretch, and he watched you, his gaze lingering on your face, not your body. Like he was trying to read your mood before he made a move.

“I should head out,” he said, standing slowly.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “You don’t have to.”

He looked at you, eyes flickering with surprise. “You sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just… don’t make it weird.”

He let out a breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

So he stayed.

You handed him an old T-shirt and a pair of sweats you forgot he left behind once, and he changed in the bathroom while you got into bed. And when he climbed in beside you, he didn’t touch you right away. He laid on his side, just close enough that you could feel the warmth of him under the covers.

“Do you want me to—” he started.

You reached for his hand under the blanket. “No talking now. Just stay.”

And he did.

You fell asleep to the sound of his breathing. Not tangled up like you used to be, not desperate for skin or heat. Just… close. Like two people learning how to be near each other again without breaking apart.

In the morning, you woke up before him.

For a moment, you just watched him sleep—his brow still furrowed a little, like even in rest he was carrying something heavy. You could see the edge of an old scar near his temple, one you never asked about, and you wondered how many more there were now. On his skin, in his mind.

You weren’t sure what would happen next. But for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He shifted a little, eyes fluttering open, and when he saw you, he smiled. That same small, quiet smile.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning.”

And when his lips found yours, it didn’t feel like a beginning or an ending—it just felt like finally coming home.

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

my girl @daydreamerwoah gave me an idea about the rain scene <33

@kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @hiraethvita @scaleniusrm @cosmic-sleep-demon @roastyyytoastyyy @salfetkablog

[the-s1lly-corner]

Wearing their jackets (slasher edition)

I need to write slasher stuff more.... I also need to watch scream like I said I would... and other films... but alas cotl rot is too strong

Characters: Jason, brahms, bubba, Thomas, Michael

Notes: reader is gn, cold weather baby!!, in Michael's bit yoy wear his coveralls because he refuses to throw a jacket over it

CWs: none

JASON

Built like a polar bear, he's so used to the cold that he just shrugs it off as he goes into the woods to get fire wood for you

Actually offers his jacket to you until he can get a fire started to keep you warm- he doesn't want you to get sick! Don't worry about him! Especially if this is zombie Jason, the cold doesn't really.. effect his undead body that much...

Doesn't mind it if you steal his jacket from him, he takes it as you being cold- but if you explain that it's partly because you miss him he feels.. bad.. he didn't mean to take so long in the woods he promises

Even if you said it jokingly he's going to do his best to make up for his brief absence

BUBBA

let me tell you, as someone who lives in texas: the winters get brutal. Incredibly cold, he's definitely got at least one coat somewhere... and even if he only had one he would let you take it

But... please stay close to him by the heater, he knows you probably want to go do something else with him but it's truly too cold to not be able to do much else without freezing in their old house- even worse if this takes place in their new home in the second film... underground

He thinks you look really cute in his coat and he tries to let you know that- hes... a little bashful but you think it's sweet

You both probably end up cuddling into one another under the coat together

THOMAS

Once more: texas gets incredibly cold in the winter depending on the time of year and where you are. He's got a coat somewhere

Not that that he really uses it, built like a polar bear like Jason. He tolerates cold pretty well, hardly seems phased by it.. he's so laser focused on his chores and work around the house that you often find him still working outside

And he's given his coat to you because you have a lower tolerance than him... maybe you can convince him to come snuggle with you under it? Maybe? He'd hate to leave his chores unfinished but he doesn't like saying no to you

Very heavy coat, very thick

MICHAEL

Completely unphased by the cold, he also doesn't have a jacket. The best you can do is take his coveralls when you FINALLY convince him to take them off so they can be washed

Does not like sharing his things, the likelihood of him humoring you after you put them in is low. May actually take them off of you himself... not incredibly rough but there's intention to yoink them back

If you're cold then go get a blanket or you're own jacket... why steal his things without asking?

It completely flies over his head that jacket (or rather clothing) stealing is common for couples

BRAHMS

Move over give him his sweater back he's FREEZING! If he needs to he's going to wear the sweater with you in it!

HATES the cold and he's going to make it everyone else's problem, please don't let him catch a fever reader! Please!

Fire place? Lit. Blankets? Gathered. Sweaters? Worn. You're more likely to see him leave the walls during the colder months so he can snag your body heat, too

Lets it go to his head if you let slip that you stole his sweater because you missed him... hes basically hovering over now- well, more than he did before

[k1ranishf4]

☆ Ink and Instinct ☆

☆ Jason Todd x Female Reader

☆ His muscles were screaming, his bones aching and he wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed—or to end up in a coma, preferably. Tasteless joke, he knew, considering that he had literally died and came back, but oh well. None of that mattered when he saw his fiancée, though. Or rather, when he saw the pretty black ink on her radiant skin, right where her womb was.

☆ Content tags/warnings: 18+ content, engaged couple, explicit language, horny Jason Todd, explicit content, soft smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, NSFW, pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty girl (1x), my love), praise, reassurance, reader got a womb tattoo without his knowledge, information broker!reader, shameless Jason Todd, newfound breeding kink and its consequences (don’t worry, no pregnancy in this), Jason’s thinking with his dick, momentarily shy reader, ticklish reader, humorous and sweet atmosphere, no beta we die like everyone in DC at some point

The fire escape groaned beneath his boots as he landed on the creaky metal, right in front of your shared bedroom window. It became a routine for him to enter the apartment through the window after patrolling, considering that the front door would raise too much attention to him. No one was supposed to know who the Red Hood was nor where he lived, thank you very much. He checked his surroundings again, like he always did, and then slid the window open to climb inside.

Patrol had been complete bullshit, in his opinion. Chasing down an amateur thief who ended up knocking himself out by running into a brick wall because he had looked back at Jason, disrupting a drug deal by the docks, gunning down Penguin's goons after one of them had spotted him—he was tired. And sore. He didn't even know anymore if the dried drops of blood on his jacket were his or someone else's.

He wanted nothing more than to get rid of his clothes, take a shower and melt next to you in bed. You, his perfect, smart fiancée who entered his life as the best information broker of Gotham's underworld. He sometimes still had moments of realization that, yes, he was, in fact, going to marry you. His heart felt way too heavy with love.

Jason thought you might be asleep by now, cuddled up in the warm sheets and sprawled out over his side of the bed again, despite your insistence that you always stayed on yours. He never asked you to wait up for him and you were out like a light by eleven o'clock sharp most of the time, so it was a surprise to see you still awake, music filling the air from the loudspeaker at a volume that wouldn't disturb your neighbors.

He closed the window gently, not wanting to announce his presence just yet. You were oblivious that he was even there, in the middle of changing. He leaned back against the windowsill and crossed his arms as he watched you, still in his whole Red Hood getup. Sure, okay, it might have been creepy of him to watch you change, but he didn't really see how anyone could blame him.

To him, you were the hottest, most sexiest woman in all of Gotham, hell, in the whole world. Smart, witty, beautiful, and so kind, he could die again and be much happier in his grave this time around. His gaze raked over you behind his helmet's white lenses, taking in every inch of skin you were showing as you stood there in nothing but black lace panties, pulling a shirt over your head and humming along to your favorite song playing in the background.

He smirked with amusement when you turned and yelped, jumping like a scared cat.

"Jason!" You threw the nearest object—an empty deodorant bottle that he didn't know why you still kept—at him and missed, the aluminium bottle clattering on the hardwood floor. "Don't just stand there, asshole, you scared me!"

He smiled at your indignant tone and looked you up and down again. "Calm down, baby. You know it's me," he mused smugly, his voice changed by the voice modulator. He didn't even make a move to take his helmet off or to put his guns inside the safe in the closet, still leaning against the wall.

"Why didn't you say anything?" You asked with a huff, walking past him to pick the empty deodorant bottle up and putting it back on a shelf instead of just throwing it away, then pausing the music. "Watching me like some creep, instead... Idiot."

But he wasn't listening. His gaze was on your stomach, which was hidden by the shirt again. He could swear that he had seen something there. He watched you reach up to the shelf inside the closet, his eyes still on your stomach while you rummaged through your clothes. For what, he didn't know, nor did he care, because now he could see it clearly.

"Lift your shirt," he said without any kind of context, not even looking at you. His arms were still crossed, but he felt tenser.

"Huh?"

He met your gaze, white lenses meeting hypnotizing but confused eyes.

"Your shirt," he repeated, still making no move to get out of his grimy clothes. "Lift it up."

He kept watching you as you looked at him with confusion for another moment before grabbing the hem of your shirt and lifting it up to your stomach.

His breath caught in his throat.

"I was gonna show you eventually," you started rambling, but he wasn't even hearing the words. "I thought it'd be cool, I guess, and I was waiting for it to heal properly, but then you became busier and—"

He called your name softly, so soft it could as well have been deadly. His head slowly lifted, looking into your eyes again. "When did you get it?"

The 'it' in question being a womb tattoo just above the waistband of your panties, a tattoo of his name. Cursive, elegant, the J underlining the rest of the letters and dipping beneath your panties.

He felt his heart race, his head tilting when you didn't answer. "Baby, when did you get that?" He asked again. Exhaustion who? He was more concerned about not jumping your bones right then and there.

Jason slowly got closer to you, gloved hand gently tilting your head up. "Don't be shy now, pretty girl. I just wanna know when you got it without me ever realizing," he reassured.

His thumb gently rubbed circles on your jaw, silently encouraging you not to get all shy on him now. "A few months ago," you mumbled. "Three, I think."

He paused. Months? Months of his name engraved on your skin, on your womb, and he was only seeing it now?

Taking a deep breath, he finally reached up to get rid of his helmet, tossing it on the bed carelessly. His eyes were dark, once emerald now appearing black. "You got my name tattooed right above your pussy and never told me?"

"Don't say it like that!" You slapped his chest, but he only smirked. His pretty fiancée, flustered about a tattoo she had gotten on her own volition.

"It's the truth, no? Fuck, baby." His hands went to your waist, his pants painfully tight. "C'mon. Let's get rid of this, hm?" He lightly tugged at your shirt.

"You haven't even put your guns away—"

"I know." He looked into your eyes. "I'll do that as soon as you're out of this shirt. Promise."

"Jason..." He could hear that you didn't believe him. Which was fair, considering that all of his thoughts were on you. Your body. That tattoo.

He felt dizzy from simply remembering that it was his name. His name. On your perfect body.

How would it look like if you were pregnant?

The thought made Jason pause.

Neither of you had ever brought up the topic of having children, not when you were dating, not now. But fuck, if it wasn't an appealing idea.

He never thought of himself as father material, nor did he have any intention of fantasizing about something that you might not even want, but the thought of your stomach becoming round and full of his child, with his name literally on your skin and claiming you, both of you—shit.

"You'll be the death of me," he told you hoarsely, voice thick with lust. "Get on the bed, baby. I'll put my guns in the safe, I promise, but I need you on that bed."

He'd throw you on it if he had to, but he was forcing himself not to go completely caveman on you. It was the last thing you needed, he could tell from your uncertain expression.

"C'mon." He gently guided you towards the bed, walking slowly with you until the back of your knees hit the edge of it. "Just like that. Sit down, baby."

Only when you were sitting did he go to the closet, helmet in hand, and put it along with his guns inside the safe that he had put there for this purpose. Aside from the things he personally needed as Red Hood, there were also some document files and USB drives that belonged to you—all filled with information about various criminals and crime lords.

You never stopped being his information broker and neither of you intended to change that.

"You're not mad, right?" The uncertainty in your voice made him pause, the fog of lust dissipating just enough for some rationality to return. He locked the safe and looked at you again.

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" Jason asked, confused. He stood up and walked towards you, sitting down on his knees in front of you and peeling his gloves off.

"I don't know, I just—" He watched you huff, his hands gently running up and down your thighs. "I never told you. I thought..."

"What?" He tilted his head, looking up at you with patience and so much love. His eyes flicked to your throat as you swallowed.

"I thought you might think I'm insane," you confessed quietly, avoiding his gaze.

Jason couldn't stop the smile that spread on his face. "Insane? Baby, the only one going insane right now is me because I'm trying very hard not to fuck you right this instant."

He laughed when you paused, looking at him like he was crazy. His heart swelled when he saw you getting out of that unsure headspace. Insecurity never suited you, in his opinion.

"You're so disgusting," you huffed, and his smile widened at the relieved humor written all over your face.

"That's what you do to me," he grinned. "Now take this shirt off. Please. I wanna see the ink again."

He looked at you with a mix of lust and adoration, not wanting to rush you but also feeling like a feral dog that's hurling its toy across the room.

With a sigh, you took the shirt off and set it aside. "Don't be weird about this," you muttered with faux sternness, making him smile.

"No promises," he winked at you, his hands traveling up your thighs to your hips. "Spread your legs. I need to get closer to you."

"And people say romance is dead," you mumbled as you spread your legs, making him chuckle softly while shifting closer, his lips immediately pressing a gentle kiss on your lower belly.

"You don't know what this makes me want to do," he breathed against your soft skin, his eyes fluttering when he felt your fingers run through the raven strands.

"You mean other than fucking me?" You asked teasingly, tilting your head.

"Oh, you..." He met your grin with his own and stood up, making you lie on your back in the middle of the bed before taking off his boots and settling between your legs.

His heart swelled when you giggled as his lips met your neck. He loved it, loved that you were sensitive and easily ticklish. It made sex even better. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, chuckling when you squirmed.

"Hey, now," he murmured against your neck. "No squirming, I haven't even started."

"That tickles!" You protested with a smile as more kisses were littered on your skin, down to your shoulder.

He smiled and pulled back, looking into your eyes. "Let me worship you, baby." His hand went to your lower belly, gently caressing your skin. He took a deep breath, feeling like he might combust.

Jason looked at you when your hand reached for his cheek. "What are you thinking?" You asked, your eyes looking like gems to him.

"You," he rasped. "This tattoo." He took a deep breath. You were his fiancée, sure, but he was still so afraid that he might scare you away. "I'm thinking about what it would look like if you were pregnant."

A crazy thing to say, he knew, as he watched your eyes widen. You weren't even married yet and he was already thinking about knocking you up. Just to see your skin stretch with his baby, with his name on your body.

"Jason—"

"I know," he interrupted, not even giving you the chance to finish speaking. "I won't do anything you don't want me to, I swear to you. But... Fuck, baby, I can't stop thinking about it. What it'd look like if your stomach was round with my name literally on it and our baby inside you."

He hadn't even been aware that he was hard. But he could feel it now, the unbearable tightness of his pants. He swallowed. "We don't have to talk about babies or anything right now. I just..." His hand gently rubbed your womb again. "Let me worship you, baby. Please. Let me show you how much I love this tattoo. How much I love you."

He watched you swallow before nodding. "Words," he murmured. "Give me words, my love."

"Yes," you breathed. "I.. I want you to show me."

That was all he needed.

He leaned down and kissed you deeply, but without urgency. This wasn't like the countless heated make-out sessions the two of you had had or the rough sex whenever both or one of you was too pent up to release the emotions verbally.

No, this kiss conveyed all of his love for you, the adoration he felt for you. One of his hands cupped the back of your head when you let out a small noise against his lips, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

He hummed against your lips when your arms locked around his neck, pulling away with a soft intake of breath before his lips went to your neck.

He smiled as he pressed kisses on your neck, hearing your soft laughs. "You're still ticklish," he murmured against your skin, amusement in his voice.

"I'm blaming you," he heard you say, and laughed.

"Of course you are."

His lips traveled from your neck to your shoulder, down to your collarbones. Both of you started breathing more shallowly as he littered your perfect breasts and stomach with soft kisses, until his lips were on your womb. On that damn tattoo.

He heard your breath hitch when his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties, but they stayed there. He looked at you, pupils blown wide. "Can I?"

He watched your throat work as you swallowed. "Yes," you whispered. "Please."

"You don't have to beg me. Never beg me, baby." He inhaled sharply as he pressed a kiss on your clothed mound before pulling the black lace off of your body and tossing it on the floor. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

He felt hot. Too hot. His skin was burning as he leaned down and pressed another kiss on your mound, on the small extension of the inked J. His heart was racing, especially when he heard you gasp softly.

"Jay—"

"Shhh, I've got you," he whispered. "Just lie down and let me take care of you, baby." He had to take his jacket off, the leather landing on the floor too. His body was on fire, molten lava coursing through his veins.

He let his eyes wander over your body again before shifting a little further away. "You're perfect," he whispered as he leaned down, his breath ghosting over your glistening cunt. He pressed a kiss on your flesh before licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit, his eyes fluttering as he heard your breath hitch.

He looked up at you. "Tell me to stop if it becomes too much or if something feels wrong," he told you before his mouth closed around your clit, his tongue swirling around it.

The sound of your breathing becoming heavier only turned him on even more as his hands went to your thighs, moving your legs over his shoulders. Death by suffocation wouldn't be a bad way to go if this was how it happened.

"Jason—mmm..." Your breathy moan went straight to his cock, still straining painfully against his pants. He had half a mind not to dry-hump the damn bed while eating you out.

His right hand left your thigh and went up to your wet entrance, slowly easing his middle finger into you as he kept lapping at your clit. The pleased sigh that left your lips made him moan in response, muffled by your flesh.

He added a second finger when you started rolling your hips against his mouth, meeting his fingers with your own movements. He let out a muffled groan and put his free hand on your hip, to keep himself grounded and not to pin you in place.

Jason didn't mind the movement, in fact, he took it as a sign that he was doing a good enough job. He kept his mouth on your clit as his fingers pumped faster in and out of you, your moans and sighs filling the air.

It was over for him when your hands landed in his hair as you arched your back. He could feel your legs trembling while you clenched around his fingers, greedy cunt sucking them in. He kept his ministrations up as he listened to you moaning his name, his eyes on the very tattoo of it on your belly.

"Jay—Fuck, Jason, that feels good—Mmmm—!"

He couldn't see your face from down here, but he didn't need to. His eyes were locked on the tattoo, watching it ripple with your skin as he curled his fingers against the spot that he knew made you see stars, listening to you moan with satisfaction as he repeated it.

"Jason—Jason, Jay—," he heard you mewl and whimper. "I'm gonna—Fuck, I'm gonna—"

It didn't take too long for him to groan in pleasure as he felt you pulling his hair, coating his fingers with your release while your thighs clamped down on his head. His nose was pressed against your skin, the flowery scent of your body lotion mixed with the musky scent of your cum filling his senses.

He worked you through your orgasm, his own body practically vibrating from the lust coursing through his veins. Only when you stopped squeezing his head with your thighs, did he sit up and slowly pull his fingers out of you.

"Shit," he breathed as he watched you pant and come down from your high. His clean hand rubbed your hip and thigh gently, wanting to soothe you as you caught your breath. "Easy, baby. No rush, take your time."

"Jason," you breathed, your eyes meeting his.

"Shhh... Take your time. We can focus on my issue later."

He kept his hand on you until your breathing was relatively normal again and your legs weren't shaking so much anymore. He helped you sit up, letting you use his arm to pull yourself up.

"You okay?" He asked softly, adoration and concern in his eyes as he watched you nod.

"That felt good," you breathed. "Was...really good."

He smiled as you leaned against him, his arm snaking around you and holding you close. He was still uncomfortably hard in his pants, but that wasn't going to stop him from making sure you were okay first. He rubbed your sweaty skin soothingly, letting you take all the time you needed to fully recover.

"Next time," he murmured, "tell me before you get a tattoo. Might save me from having to process it before I can fuck you."

He chuckled when you slapped his chest, muttering something about him being "a filthy animal", and pressed a kiss on your forehead.

He had come home wanting to sleep, but the red light of the digital clock showing him that it was 3:47 A.M. told him that neither of you two would be getting much sleep tonight.

Tomorrow would have to be a lazy day, he supposed, smirking as he watched your hands reach for his belt.

☆ A/N: Let me know if there’s something I can do better, constructive criticism is always welcome. Hope you enjoyed!!

☆ 3.4k words

[kenmaspuddinghair]

Honorably discharged partially disabled Simon part 4

part 1 part 2 part 3

 The time was exactly 11:59 PM, in less than 60 seconds your phone would go off and you would find Simon still wide awake. You didn't want to bother Simon so you were sleeping in his chair rather than in his bed with him, and Simon couldn't find the nerve to ask you. You were waking up every hour to make sure Simon was sleeping and not in pain but so far he's been awake every time.

It was a soft vibration yet you still woke up and quietly walked over to Simon “why are you still awake? Simon if you're in pain you need to tell me” “I promise ‘m not in pain, ‘m trying to sleep”  you just sighed, this is the response you got the last two times as well  “is there anything I can do for you to fall asleep?" Then Simon got an idea, it was now or never, he knew he wasn't gonna get any sleep knowing you were right there in reach, so he made do. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into the bed next to him “S-simon what are you doing? You have to be careful” Simon just hummed as he fixed the blankets around you “this ‘ill help me sleep” and just like that you were tucked under the covers perfectly into his side and Simon was already drifting to sleep so what kind of nurse would you be if you got up. 

You woke up to your normal morning alarm but it turned off before you even moved, once you fully woke up, you looked around to find Simon right next to you just staring at you, your face flushed as you got out of the bed “i'm gonna go make breakfast” and you scurried away before Simon could reply. Maybe what he did last night was too much? 

You and Simon ate in silence for the first time in a week, once you finished he started walking outside but you stopped him “exactly where are you going” gosh Simon thought you were so pretty with your hands on your hips questioning him “i'm going do a few laps around the base, my normal workout” “and how many laps are ‘a few’ and how long is that going to be, you can't do as much as you used to Simon” he sighed, he knew you were right but he also wanted to show you he could do more than you thought, that's when he made the decision 

Simon grabbed you some shoes and a light jacket as it was still early spring, he didn't ask you to join him he just decided you were, he said it was so you could monitor him and see he was doing fine, but he had a slightly different plan. This was the third hill you and Simon were going across and you were panting so heavily, while Simon kept his breath steady and showed no signs of weakness. Simon had been quiet the entire trip “okay okay Simon, you've made your point, I get it. You're still capable and I don't need to hover so much, can we please go back now?” You were so out of breath Simon kinda felt bad for bringing you up here but you were so close he couldn't turn back now.

“Actually brought ya up ‘ere for a different reason, just a little longer can ya do that?” Simon paused before looking over your whole figure “i'll even carry ya up” you let out a small laugh at that “Simon I can't keep going but I also can't let you carry me, that'll be way too much for you” Simon wasn't taking no for an answer, he just wordless picked you up bridal style before continuing up, after a moment he added “ya weigh like half o’ what I do regularly, this is nothin baby” you just accepted defeat and leaned into the strong man carrying you. 

Simon placed you gently on a bench that was placed at the top of the hill facing the rising sun. After a bit of silence, Simon decided this was his only chance to ask you out but he still wasn't sure how so he just started rambling. “Ya know this bench means ‘lot to me, Price made me lieutenant here, he also brought me up ‘ere to tell me I was honorably discharged…” he felt your hand on his biceps comfortably rubbing circles on him, he took a deep breath before he continued.

He had a whole speech about how much he liked you, how you've been the only person he felt comfortable around, and how he cant stop thinking about you, really he did, he kept rehearsing on the walk here but that's not what came out of his mouth.

“Will ya let me be yer husband?” you were startled you whipped your head to look at him, I mean you knew he would have trouble asking you out but what was this “Simon-” “no I mean like yer future husband, it doesn't have to be now, but I don't wanna wait long, but i'll wait however long ya need-” he was rambling so you cut him off, with a kiss of course, once you pulled back his mouth stayed slightly agape as you smiled at him “I think you were trying to ask me to be your girlfriend, right?” he just nodded still shocked by your bold move, you giggled at his face “of course i'll be yer future wife” you replied teasingly. This didn't go as planned but it was still a win, and Simon would take that, he just needed to make sure he could be the perfect husband for you, his perfect wife, well future wife.

tags- @piconico17 @just-lilita @madsdawson @silversfavfics @enfppuff @solazoro @sirbonesly @roastyyytoastyyy @the-disaster-in-waiting @lonjitas @squishytap @gays6968 @sunndust @dreamland08 @sweetpeakarolinaaa @marcysbear @alfiestreacle @bxm-2121@goldyghoul  @itsanemu0101 @wolverineswaifu @crempuffie @ohdrey89 @cucurucho-amargo @avalkyrieofparis @castellomargot @cmbghost @strawberrygato @blueladys-world @goodsoup19 @pinkylouise @creepzeyecandy @tessakate @identity2212 (if I added you to the tag list and you don't want to be, just let me go ill remove you)

[darkwitchoferie]

Stolen Hoodie

Summary: You've been best friends with Chan since he started at your school. You've had a crush on him since you were both at least 20. Now you've decided it's time to ruin the friendship.

Cw/tw: daddy kink, praise kink, a lot of pet names (baby, pretty baby, good girl, etc), a little breath play, oral (both receiving), face-fucking, face-riding, unprotected vaginal sex (mc mentions she’s on birth control), thigh riding, nipple play, brief bit of angst (insecurities specifically), after care fluff. Also, did you know that like, 1/3 of the population has no gag reflex? That’s a wildly high number compared to what I thought.

Wc: 5.8k

This fic is part of a series of unconnected best friends to lovers fics, the others of which can be found on my Master list

You’ve been best friends with Chan since he moved to Seoul, basically. He’d started going to your school when you were both 13 and the two of you hit it off practically instantly. It wasn’t for another year that you learned he’d moved to become an idol.

Since then, you’d watched him work and struggle for his dream before finally, spectacularly, achieving it. You’ve met, and you adore, the seven other men who’ve achieved their dream with him.

You’ve also had a massive crush on him since you were 20. For years, you’ve relegated your crush to impossible-never-going-to-happen territory. And that was fine. Yeah, it was more than a simple crush now and that made things harder for you. But you’d rather suffer with unrequited love than lose him.

Except, you’ve started to notice little things that all add up to him wanting you too recently. Sometimes he would get this look in his eyes when he thinks you’re not paying attention, like he wanted to devour you. Other times, he’d look heartbreakingly fond.

Or, though he’s tried to hide it, you’ve noticed the way your best friend looks at you when you wear his clothes. It’s mostly things like borrowing his jacket when it gets colder than you expected so you didn’t have your own. Or one time when the pair of you got caught in the rain and you had to borrow a shirt and sweats while your clothes dried.

Just to test it, you’d lightly flirted with Hyunjin the other day. Nothing that couldn’t be excused as just friendly, but definitely enough to make someone with a crush jealous. You weren’t sure Hyunjin noticed you were flirting, but Chan certainly did. He’d clenched his jaw, eyes darkening, and quickly excused himself.

You were on your way up to his apartment for your semi-regular movie night. Jeongin was out for the weekend, visiting home, since the group had the time off. Glancing down at yourself, you adjusted the hoodie you’d snuck out of Chan’s room the previous week so that it hung almost completely over the shorts you were wearing, leaving only about 2 inches visible, before knocking on his door.

He answered the door with a smile that then froze on his face. You could practically see the blue screen in his eyes. “Hey Channie. We did agree on today, right?” You knew you had, but wanted to make sure the day didn’t start off awkward.

“Hm? Oh yeah. Sorry, I dunno what that was. Drifted off. Hi Y/nnie,” he tugged you into the apartment, wrapping you in a tight hug. “How was your week?”

As you ranted about your week, you toed off your sneakers, dropped your overnight bag, and followed him into the kitchen. He’d already made dinner, so the pair of you sat at the table while you ate and caught up.

You pretended to ignore that he wasn’t really listening to you, looking at your bare thighs where you sat beside him, or eyes traveling over your torso in his hoodie. That look that said he wanted to devour you was back in his eyes. Periodically, he’d catch himself staring, shake a hand like he was trying to shake himself out of it without making it obvious, then go back to trying to follow along with what you were saying. It never lasted long before he was staring at you again.

You noticed the bulge growing in his shorts – how could you not – but chose not to say anything about that either. Just like you were focusing on not giving in to your own arousal. Yet.

After you finished eating and cleaning up the kitchen, the pair of you started to head for the living room. But, you decided, that just wouldn’t do for what you wanted today.

“Hey Channie?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we go to your room? I just... after this week I could really use some quality cuddling time.” You hadn’t had a terrible week, it had been perfectly normal, but it’s not like he’d been paying enough attention to know that.

“Of course, sweetheart. Anything you need,” he answered with a sympathetic smile. You felt the tiniest twinge of guilt but reasoned that it was only a partial lie, and a white one at that. Besides, he’d have known you were lying if he’d been listening to you.

He headed to his room to set everything up, including his projector and setting his led lights to blue. You stayed in the kitchen, getting drinks and snacks for both of you, then followed him back. When you got to his room, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, facing the door, but not looking up.

You set the drinks and snacks on his desk and asked, “Everything okay, Channie?”

He looked up at you then took a deep breath. "I need you to take that off," he said, gesturing to his hoodie.

"Why?"

"Just... please?"

You shrugged and start to take it off. "Wait!” His shout stopped you. “Are you not wearing your own shirt under there?"

"No bra either," you said, lifting the hoodie high enough to flash him then dropping it back into place when he groaned and looked away. "What's the matter Channie?" you teased, getting close to where he was sitting on his bed. This was going better than you anticipated. Or, faster at least. You thought for sure he’d try to hold off until you were cuddled together in bed. "Ya know that look you get when you think I'm not paying attention? The one that says you wanna devour me? What would you say if I want you to give in to that look, Chan?"

"Don't.” You watched his hands nervously running up and down his thighs, tugging at the hems of his shorts.

"Don't what?"

"Don't say things you'll regret later."

"No regrets here. I love the way you look at me. The way you've been trying not too look at me since I showed up wearing this.” You’d been steadily moving closer and were damn near in his lap now, knees nearly pressed against one of his knees. You stuffed your hands in the hoodie pocket to avoid the temptation to touch him. You wanted him to be the one to make that move. “Channie?” He still didn’t look up at you, so you decided to play your ace.

~ About 1 month previous ~

Neither of you was drunk, but you may as well have been. You were both so sleep deprived, you were impressed you were able to hold your eyes open. But Chan had been gone on tour for ages and you didn’t want to miss out on any time with him while you had it. Clearly, he felt the same way as he hadn’t even hinted at going to bed.

You weren’t sure how the conversation had started, but you were complaining about how unsatisfied you were by your ex. You’d broken up while Chan was away and now you felt free to complain about all the things that had annoyed or pissed you off about him. Like how he never texted first, that he thought you wouldn’t want something for Valentine’s day despite you mentioning how excited you were about the upcoming day.

“And!” You said, sitting up from where you’d been slouching on the ground against his bed beside him. “He never got me off! Well, not never, just very occasionally. Like, okay, I understand that some kinks aren’t for everybody. And it’s not like I wanted him to choke me every time we had sex – but sometimes at least. Plus, I thought guys like having sex without a condom?! I have an IUD, we were both clean, we’d have been fine!”

“Hang on, are you telling me you have a breeding kink?”

You faltered for just a second, kind of surprised you’d said that. “Okay yeah,” you admitted after a moment. “That’s not the issue here, Chan.”

“I mean, maybe it was for him? Did you ever talk about it?”

“Yeah. He thought it was weird.” Chan scoffed. “I know! And it’s not like I was asking him to hit me or anything extreme. I don’t like that. Just a little light choking and some hair pulling, ya know? Some praise, tell me I look good. Call me a slut if the situation calls for it. It’s not asking for much, I don’t think. But he was... boring. Like, don’t get me wrong, I enjoy missionary, but there are other positions.”

It seemed admitting to your best friend that you had a breeding kink had taken away any filter you may have otherwise had. Or it was the sleep deprivation. Either way, despite a part of you thinking you should, you just couldn’t stop talking.

“And then! Okay, worth saying, I don’t like the overly-jealous, you-can’t-have-any-male-interaction-at-all thing. That’s toxic as fuck. But like, if we’re out and someone’s blatantly flirting with me in front of you, at least act like we’re together, ya know? A hand on my hip, kiss my cheek or neck? Then a quiet promise to me that later that you’ll remind me who I really belong to. Just a little possessive, enough to make a girl feel wanted. Not that I’m surprised he didn’t, not really. He barely made me feel wanted in bed, why would he out of bed?”

You sighed heavily. “I should’ve known it wasn’t gonna last though. He was nice enough, but like.... I dunno, Channie. I’m an independent woman,” you looked to him for acknowledgement.

“You are,” he agreed easily.

“And I can take care of myself.”

“You can.”

“But sometimes, I just want someone else to take care of me for a little while, ya know?”

“I can appreciate that.”

You sighed again, slumping back down against the bed. You were both quiet for a few minutes, long enough that you wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Glancing over, you saw that he hadn’t.

“What about you?” you asked.

“What about me?”

“I just shared like so much about my sex life. What about you? Do you have any kinks to share with the class?” you gestured to the completely empty bedroom.

“You shared unprompted though. I didn’t ask for that information, but now it’s in my head. Why does that mean I have to share?”

“So I don’t feel so alone here. Please?” you batted your eyelashes at him. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his hair and mumbled something. “What?” He repeated it just loud enough for you to hear. “You have a daddy kink? Ya know, not actually surprised by that.”

“You’re not weirded out by it? Like, plenty of people are.”

“Best friend,” you held your hand to your own chest. “That means, totally judgement free.”

Eventually, the pair of you fell asleep in his bed, him spooned behind you, like you had countless times through the years. Neither of you mentioned the kink discussion after you woke up, but you, at least, never forgot it.

~ End Flashback ~

"Please, Daddy,” you nearly whined the words out. Chan's eyes snapped back to you then and you smiled in triumph. "Don't make me beg for what we both want."

"And what exactly do you want?" His eyes had darkened, the pupils blowing out, but he was still trying to hold onto his self control as he gripped the edge of his bed. The tone in his voice and look in his eyes had a rush of arousal gushing from you.

You wanted your voice to come out sultry, seductive. Instead, you feared you sounded desperate. Which you were, but you didn’t need to sound like it. "Want you to ruin me. Wanna feel that thick cock I've seen in your sweats spilt me open and claim me. I wanna be fucked so hard that I'll still feel you when I move tomorrow. Want you to fuck me raw, Daddy, so I can feel you cum in me."

His hand shot up to wrap around your neck, applying just the slightest pressure. Not enough to cut any air flow, just enough so you knew he could. "You think you can take it?" You whimpered in response, pussy clenching. "Shorts and panties off, baby girl. Leave the hoodie on." You stepped out of just your shorts. "No panties either? Naughty girl."

"Wanted it to be easy for you, Daddy." He groaned, pulling you in for a hard, sloppy kiss by your neck, his other hand reaching for your pussy.

"Good god, baby girl. You're already so wet for me, huh?"

"Always wet for you." He muffled his groan against your neck, biting and sucking a bruise into your skin as his fingers slid back and forth along your wet folds, avoiding your clit, a single finger just barely dipping into your cunt and making you whine with want.

Sliding his hand from your pussy to your hip, he tugged you down to straddle his thigh. His shorts rode up a little with your movement, so you were sitting against his bare thigh.

With a whimper, your hips started rocking, almost without your conscious decision to do so. "Yeah, baby? Does Daddy's thigh feel good on your soaked pussy?"

"Feels so good. Love feeling you on my pussy. Can't wait to have you in me, Daddy."

"You cum on my thigh like a good girl and I promise I'll fuck you so good, baby girl,” he said against the side of your neck. The hand that had been around your neck came down onto your other hip. His grip was firm as he helped keep you flush against his thigh while you rocked your hips. He flexed his thigh muscles, pressing up more firmly against your cunt, making you whimper and drop your head forward, your hands coming up to brace on his shoulder and chest.

From the corner of your eye, you watched him watch you. His eyes bounced from your slick covering his thigh, to your face, to as much of your cunt as he could see. You raised your head to look at him and saw him hesitate for just a second, before he said, voice husky with want, “Such a needy little slut, aren’t you?”

You moaned, back arching, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and pussy clenching around nothing. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a fierce, possessive kiss.

You were a little surprised at how close to the edge you were getting, just riding his thigh. Despite the delicious friction against your clit on every motion, you’d been sure it would take more. But the quivering in your thighs and tightening in your belly assured you that you were wrong. You shifted your rocking motions as you got closer, swiveling your hips instead. That motion worked so much better and had you pulling away from Chan’s mouth, head tossed back with a moan as you came all over his thigh.

“You did so good baby girl,” Chan said, soothingly rubbing his hands up and down your thighs as you came down from your high.

“Yeah?”

“Mm. Made such a mess of my thigh too. Love watching you make a mess of me.”

“Oh really?”

He tugged your hand off his chest, bringing it down to press against his clothed erection. “Yeah, baby girl.”

“Oh God.” You wrapped your hand around him as well as you were able considering the clothes that were still in the way. Your mouth started to water at the prominent outline of his cock. “I need…. I need….”

“What do you need? Tell Daddy, whatever it is,” he squeezed your thigh reassuringly.

“Oh God. I need to taste you, need to suck your cock.” You scrambled back off his thigh, dropping quickly to your knees just in front of his legs. “Please, Daddy?”

He groaned, dropping forward to press his forehead to yours. “You’re a dream, baby girl,” he muttered, softly enough that you weren’t sure you were meant to hear it. He sat up and quickly pushed his shorts and boxers down his legs, kicking them off to the side somewhere.

The outline through his clothes didn’t do him justice, to your mind. His cock was gorgeous, long, and thicker than any you’d had before, with just the slightest curve. His tip was leaking precum and you couldn’t wait to taste it. You shuffled forward on your knees, making yourself comfortable between his thighs. You raised a hand, lightly scratching your nails down his inner thigh and watched his cock twitch at the action.

“Wait, baby,” he suddenly leaned back, almost laying flat on the bed. When he straighten back up, he held one of his pillows. “Here, lift up just a bit.”

You should have expected that, even in this, he would be looking out for you. Before anything else, Chan was your best friend. You situated yourself comfortably on the pillow then leaned forward and licked a thick strip up the underside of his cock, swirling your tongue around his head and gathering his precum on your tongue. You hummed, enjoying the taste of him on your tongue, before opening your mouth and sliding down on just the first inch or so.

You felt his fingers weave into your hair as you sank further onto his cock. You relaxed, breathing through your nose, until you sank down completely, your nose buried in his pubic hair. You held yourself down until you felt his hips kick up. Smiling internally, you lifted part way off his cock, keeping his tip in your mouth, before sinking down again. You set a comfortable pace, bobbing your head up and down, swirling your tongue around his tip.

Then Chan changed the angle on you by standing up. “Baby, can I...?” He trailed off, thrusting his hips slightly. In response, you relaxed back on your heels, held your mouth open, tongue out, and just looked up at him. “Oh God damn.” He used the grip he had on your hair to hold your head still as he steadily thrust into your waiting mouth.

His grip on your hair tightened as he sped up, pulling on the roots. You moaned around him, eyes rolling up with the combination of the pain of him pulling your hair and the pleasure of him using your mouth. “Look at you,” his voice was breathy and low as he spoke. “Such a pretty slut with my cock in your mouth.” You moaned, pussy clenching at the praise and saliva leaking onto your chin from around his cock.

You got lost in the pleasure of his cock on your tongue and the praise continuously falling from his lips in that breathy, low tone that you just knew you’d be addicted to by the end of the night. You felt his cock start to twitch in your mouth before he could warn you. When he sank completely into your mouth, you gripped his hips to hold him there and intentionally swallowed around his head a few times, until he was coming down your throat, head dropped forward and eyes locked on you.

He dragged you up off the floor with his hands under your arms and collapsed back onto the bed with you on top of him while he worked to catch his breath.

“God baby, I’m almost afraid to ask how you got so good at that.”

You smiled slightly. “I have no gag reflex,” you answered. “Nothing dramatic.”

He tugged his shirt off, successfully doing so without making you get off him, and used it to wipe the drool from your face before tossing it somewhere off the bed. He claimed your lips in a hungry kiss, one hand sliding down and between your legs. This time, he didn’t just tease – almost immediately he pushed two fingers into you, swallowing your moans.

You broke away from his lips, moaning against his neck as he hooked his fingers to rub against that spongy part of your walls that had you clenching around him.

“Yeah, baby? That feel good?” You whimpered, nodding against him. He added his thumb against your clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive bud. You writhed against him, bucking your hips against his leg where you laid. Then, just as you could feel your orgasm coming, he pulled his hand away.

His chuckle cut off in a moan when you whined, “Daddy, was so close.”

“I know baby girl. Come here, Daddy needs to taste you.” He manhandled you into position over his face. You were a little hesitant, having never had a boyfriend who’d wanted you to sit on his face before. “Sit, baby. I can take it.” When you still hesitated, he gripped your hips and pulled you down onto his mouth.

The moan you let out was something straight from a porno as he immediately thrust his tongue into you and started lapping at you like it was the only thing keeping him alive. His nose bumped against your clit with every motion of his mouth and tongue.

“Oh God,” you reached down, tangling your fingers in his hair as you felt your denied orgasm building back up. His hands smoothed over your hips and thighs, no longer holding you against him as you rutted against his mouth. He shifted slightly to wrap his lips around your clit and gently sucked it into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it until you arched back, pressing your cunt more firmly against his face and moaning his name as your orgasm rushed through you.

His responding moan vibrated against your pussy as he continued to lap at you through the aftershocks. “Good girl,” he praised, helping you slide off his face and onto the bed. “So good to me, letting me eat you out like that.” He leaned over you, claiming your lips and pushing his tongue into your mouth, letting you taste yourself.

Without breaking your kiss, he manhandled you until you were lying against his pillow. Then he broke away, trailing kisses down your jaw and neck, pausing to suck a bruise into the skin of your neck. He pulled back to look down at you for a second.

“Time to take this off, wanna see those pretty tits again.” Chan tugged his hoodie off of you, tossing it across the room. “God, look at you. Gorgeous.” He sat back on his heels, just admiring you for a moment, running his fingers over your thighs. You returned the favor, openly gaping at the well defined chest and abs you’d always been able to feel any time the pair of you hugged or cuddled together.

Then he was back on you, picking up his trail of kisses from the hickey he’d left on you. He continued kissing down over your chest, capturing one nipple between his lips, sucking the bud into his mouth while he pinched and rolled the other between his fingers. Then he switched sides. He had you moaning and writhing under him as he sucked a hickey into the side of your tit, then against your ribs, and another on your belly.

You tugged his hair, unable to take it anymore, moaning out when he looked up at you. “Please, need you to fuck me Daddy.”

“Okay, baby girl,” he grinned at you, that dimpled grin that was as familiar to you as your own face bringing on a gush of arousal as he hovered over you. After a swift kiss, he leaned over the edge of the bed, grabbing the pillow you’d been kneeling on. You lifted your hips for him to slide it under you.

He wrapped your legs over his hips and steadily slid into you, watching your face the whole time. Once fully inside you, Chan leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead. When he pulled back, he offered you a sweet smile. His thrusts started slow, like he was savoring the feeling of being inside you. Every time he bottomed out, you could swear you felt him in your stomach. You couldn’t take your eyes off his face, watching every expression.

He readjusted himself on his knees, gripped your hips tighter, pulled out and slammed back in, pulling a strangled moan from your throat. He smirked down at you, keeping this new, harder pace. You flailed for a few seconds until you grasped his forearms, nails digging in.

“That’s it, baby girl. Look at you, taking my cock so well. Wish you could see how well my cock splits open this pussy,” he spoke between thrusts, voice low and almost sounding like he was growling out the words. “God, you feel so good around me. Warm and wet and perfectly snug. Like you were made to take my cock.” He groaned, dropping his head forward for just a moment before suddenly pulling out.

“It’s okay, pretty baby,” Chan soothed when you whined as he pulled out of you. “Here, just need to flip you over.” He quickly had you in the position he wanted – face and shoulders pressed to the bed, ass up. He gripped your hips hard, sliding back into you. The new angle felt amazing and you clutched the sheets as he started thrusting into you.

“God, baby, wish you could see yourself. See the way you take my cock so good,” he groaned out between thrusts. You whined, pushing your hips back against him. He draped himself over your back, pressing open mouthed, sloppy kisses against your shoulder. Then one of his hands left your hip to wrap around the front of your neck.

Using the hold he now had on you, he lifted you up with him, so your back stayed against his chest. You brought one hand to grip his thigh but the other one slid down your own belly and then you felt it. You looked down, just to see that you were feeling what you knew you were. “Oh God,” you moaned, seeing the bulge of his cock every time he slammed into you. “Channie,” you whined.

“What is it baby?”

“Feel.” You pulled the hand that had been on your hip over to your belly, pressing his hand against the bulge in you.

He groaned, burying his face against your shoulder and tightening his hold around your neck. You felt more than heard him whine when you clenched tightly around his cock. You could still breath, but his grip was definitely tight enough for you to get that lovely light headed feeling.

“You gonna cum, pretty baby? I can feel you gripping me. You gonna be a good girl and cum on Daddy’s cock?” You nodded as well as you could, feeling the coil tightening in your belly. He squeezed your neck hard enough to cut off your air flow, just for a second. As soon as he relaxed his grip, you gushed around his cock, orgasm crashing through you.

You were pretty sure you blanked out for a few seconds because the next thing you knew, Chan’s hand was pressed against your chest, between your tits, to hold you up and he was muttering against your neck about how good you felt coming on his cock. His thrusts had also slowed noticeably.

“Mm, back with me baby girl?” You nodded. “Gonna need words.”

It was a struggle for a moment, getting your mouth to form the words you needed. “Yes,” you nodded again. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Oh baby, you are more than okay.” You could hear the teasing edge in his voice, chuckling a little. Now that he knew you were okay, his hips picked up again, driving his cock as deep into you as he could. The hand that had been on the bulge in your belly slid down your body until his fingers slid over your clit.

You moaned, tossing your head back against his shoulder, as he rubbed firm circles against the bundle of nerves. You hadn’t thought you had another orgasm in you, particularly this soon. But you were wrong. You could already feel it building up.

He suddenly pulled out and flipped you back onto your back, then slammed back into you. “Wanna see your face when I cum in you. See your face when I make a mess in this pretty pussy,” he said over the squelching noises your pussy made with every thrust.

“Gonna fill me up? Make me all nice and messy, Daddy?” Chan groaned, dropping his face forward against your neck, and biting down harshly where your neck and shoulder met. You arched, the orgasm that had been building very suddenly crashing over you.

He pulled away, surprise on his face that mirrored your own. He didn’t comment though, instead lifting one of your legs and pressing it back toward your chest as he chased his own orgasm. It only took a handful of thrusts more before he was stilling inside you and you felt his cock twitch in your cunt, filling you with his warmth.

He collapsed against you and you held him tightly for a moment, both of you panting, until he pulled out of you as gently as he could. Still, you whined with the loss of his body on yours as he flopped down next to you.

“Who’d have thought I liked being bitten that much?” you commented after you got your breath back.

Beside you, Chan chuckled. “You really didn’t know?”

“No one’s ever bitten me before. Like little love bites or hickeys, sure. But a bite like that? Nope.”

He rolled on his side, fingers lightly tracing over the spot he’d bitten. “I may have left a mark,” he admitted.

“I have a bite mark on my neck?” you giggled. “Goes with the other marks. Pretty sure I’ll have finger bruises on my hips.”

The pair of you were quiet for a bit while he traced his fingers over the mark on your neck, down your torso, over the red marks on your hips. You could practically feel him thinking and you weren’t sure at all that you were gonna like where his thoughts were going, but you didn’t say anything for fear you were wrong about what he was thinking. You waited, knowing he’d tell you.

“You were wrong,” he whispered after a while.

“’Bout what?” you asked, matching his tone.

“About not regretting it,” he spoke quickly, like trying to rip off the metaphorical bandage. “You will. You’ll say we should just be friends and then you’ll feel awkward about it and pull away from me. And I’ll lose you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have given in, I knew it. But I wanted – want – you so bad I –” You hated the sureness and sorrow in his tone.

“Why would I, Channie?” You interrupted, your tone soft but firm. “I’ve been in love with you for years. How could I possibly regret finally having you?”

“Ah!” You giggled as he propped himself up on his elbow to look down at you, the tears you’d heard in his voice, swimming in his eyes. “What?!”

“You heard me,” you smiled up at him, reaching up and cupping his cheek. “I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I fell in love with you, but I know I am. I love you, Channie.”

He leaned in, quickly scattering kisses over your forehead, cheeks, and nose, making you giggle. Then he stilled, pressing 1 – 2 – 3 soft kisses to your lips. “I love you too,” he sighed happily, a few relieved tears slipping down his cheeks. He spent another minute brushing his fingers over your skin – from your neck, down between your breasts, over your belly and back up again. “Wait here,” he pressed a kiss to your temple and rolled out of bed.

He didn’t bother pulling his boxers or anything else back on as he headed toward the bathroom. You lay on his bed, appreciating the view as he walked out. You heard the shower turn on, then he was back. He scooped you out of the bed, one arm under your knees the other under your shoulders. “Channie! Put me down, I’m too heavy!”

“You are not,” he rolled his eyes fondly as he carried you into the bathroom. Together, the pair of you showered and you let Chan gently wash you then wrap a towel around you when you stepped out of the shower. Back in his room, he gently toweled you dry and sat you on his desk chair while he quickly changed his bed sheets. Then he silently stood in front of one of his open dresser drawers.

“What’s wrong?” You asked after a moment.

“You should have something to sleep in, because I don’t know how well I’ll be able to resist you naked in my bed. But, in my t-shirt in my bed presents the same issue.”

“I did bring my overnight bag, it’s in the living room. It has my pajamas in it.”

“No.”

Smirking to yourself, you stood up from where you’d moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “I could always grab something of Innie’s. Surely he wouldn’t –” you cut yourself off at the possessive, warning look he shot you. “Or not,” you said with a small smile. He narrowed his eyes at you until you sat back down.

After a minute, he walked back out to the living room, coming in with your pajama shorts in one hand and the bag in the other. He dropped your bag beside his dresser, snagged one of his black tank tops, and tossed the two articles of clothes at you. You pulled on your clothes while he pulled on just a pair of boxers. Once he pulled on his clothes, he grabbed the snacks and drinks you’d brought in and piled them on his bedside table. Without a word, he pulled up some movie the pair of you had seen a bunch of times on Netflix, reclined against his headboard, and tugged you to lay back against his chest, between his legs.

“Here, baby. Drink this,” he opened and held out one of the fruit juices to you. Then, when you handed it back, he started steadily feeding you snacks.

It’s not like it was much, just fruit juice and pretzels, but after showering you – God. It was so sweet, so caring of him that you felt tears gathering.

“Baby, are you okay?” You were, truly, but you couldn’t find words to reassure him and tell him why you were crying all of a sudden. You could only nod. Apparently, he understood anyway. “You’re an independent woman, I know. But sometimes, it’s nice to let someone else take care of you.” He used as close to your own phrasing from that sleep deprived day as he could. He pressed a kiss to your temple. “That’s what Daddy’s here for, sweet girl.”

[biolumien]

Tired and sleepy reader who gets affectionate 10x more than usual with soushiro...... fluff

notes: short and cute... soft and sweet... im very sleepy all the time. this speaks to me. obligatory soundtrack for this lil' thing is this album.

nights like these

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader no warnings apply, they're just cute. word count: 808

“it’s 3 AM,” hoshina whispers, leaning close to your face. “you know that, right?” 

it’s been an ever-increasing habit of yours to call hoshina over right before you went to bed—you’d frequently call him over in the middle of the night, to increasingly later and later hours–and yet he’d show up each time, without fail. you’d texted him in the middle of the night, holding your phone close to your face, rubbing at your eye as you blearily texted for him to come over.

“mm,” you whine sleepily, reaching out to touch his face, letting your thumbs brush across his cheeks.. “hoshinaa.”

“yes?” hoshina’s voice was soft as he rested his hands on the bed, letting himself lean into your touches. as your thumbs brushed across the corners of his lips, you could feel the way his smile quirked upwards into your touch. one of his fangs poked out a little bit, teasingly biting the pad of your thumb. you whine, ever so softly, and he laughs fondly, pressing his face closer to yours. “what is it?” “stay,” you mumble. “don’t want you to go. stay here.”

“mm.” hoshina’s hands reached up to wrap around your wrists, his thumb brushing the back of your hands. “greedy. i still have things to do, you know.”

“no you don’t,” you protest, brushing your face against his. you can feel the way he shivers against your skin,  “‘m asking you to sleep with me, soshiro, what could be more important?”

“mm…” hoshina’s voice turns into a low drawl–you can feel the way his voice vibrates in his chest. “just don’t wanna get caught. the rest of the third division’s never gonna let this go if they find me…” though as he says this, he’s gently pushing at you ever so slightly, nudging you deeper into your bed, trying to make room for him. “c’mon, darling dearest. move a little bit for me.”

you shift backwards a little, yawning a bit as hoshina takes off his jacket, throwing it somewhere on the floor behind him as he pulls up your covers, slotting himself neatly beside you. you yawn again, pressing your face into his collarbone as soon as he’s settled. for how lithe he is, his chest is hard, too–firm and tensed with muscle. you can feel the way his heart beats, slow and steady. 

he hums, wrapping one of his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“you’re so needy, y’know?” hoshina teases, running a hand through your hair. “what am i gonna do with you?”

“mmh,” you kiss his neck, and his skin is warm. he smells faintly of something sweet and clean, and he chuckles.

“hey, i’m talkin’ to you…” he yawns a bit, his body tensing a little bit as he entangles his legs with yours, leaning forward to bury his face in the nape of your neck. “mm…”

“how was work today?” you ask, gently touching at the nape of his neck. he feels warm, a tactile weight beneath your hands, and you can’t help but feel the desperate desire to swallow him fully, fully entangling yourself in him–till you wouldn’t be able to tell where you start and where he ends. 

“mm. fine. boring,” hoshina says. “filin’ paperwork keeps me up all night. needed t’write up a report. i’d much rather be out there fightin’.” he presses a kiss to your neck as well, almost biting down against your skin. you shudder, entangling your hands in his hair. “how about you?”

“boring,” you respond. you tilt hoshina’s head up slightly, blinking up at him. his scarlet eyes were ever-so-slightly narrowed with sleep, his expression intense even though his body belied his weariness, how exhausted he really was. but his face is so fond–a fondness that makes your throat squeeze, almost. you lean up to slot your lips together, and he hums ever so slightly, moving his lips against yours sleepily.

“this is the highlight of my day,” you murmur against his lips, and he chuckles.

“sap,” he teases. 

“mm. shut it, you. you’re the one in my bed right now,” you mumble, pressing closer to him.

“only after you asked,” hoshina says, but his hand around you is firm, protective–possibly even a little possessive as it moves to the small of your back. 

“negotiation’s one of my best traits,” you tease.

“it is,” hoshina says, ever so fondly. his hand reaches up to brush your hair from your face. “n’you’re lucky i love you, and you’re cute when you ask.”

you hum, leaning into his touch, kissing his palm. 

“i’m sleepy,” you complain, a pout coming across your lips.

“then sleep,” hoshina says, kissing you again on the lips. “i’ll be here.”

“mhm,” you mumble, letting your eyes fall shut as you tuck yourself against hoshina, feeling the warm embrace of sleep take you into its arms.

[hexescore]

hey, hey, let's match!

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, ekko, jayce, jinx, mel, sevika, viktor, vi.

☆ ◞ summary: little snippets of matching items with (character)!

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader.

❀ ◞ author note: this is my first time writing for the arcane characters, so i hope i wrote them well! please enjoy!

CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

bracelet or ring

The silver band was wrapped perfectly around Caitlyn's wrist, catching the light as she pulled her hair back into a high pony tail. She had come home later than usual and despite claiming she'd do better and work/life balance, she picked up right where she left off at work.

"Cait?" You call, peaking your head into her little workspace, seeing she's hung up a few new leads on her bulletin board. "Dinner's done," You walk further into the space, glancing around. It looked different than the last time you'd been in there, messier.

"Mmhm, I'll be there in a minute," She murmurs, "Just got a few more things to take care of..." You nod in acknowledgment, but don't leave. Instead you glance around the room some more, inspecting random but meticulously put together files and pictures.

Finally, you've made your way to where she sits in her leather desk chair, your hand gently touching her shoulder. She tenses at the sudden contact, but almost as quickly melts into your touch. She tilts her head just enough to press a kiss to your hand- her eyes catching the matching silver bracelet you wore. Despite it being subtle, the fact you two are matching causes her to grin, little butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "It's your favorite," You refer back to the dinner you mentioned, "Let's eat together."

Blue eyes trail from the silver band up to your eyes, and she bites her cheek to hold back from cooing at how much she adores you. "Alright," She sighs, pressing another kiss to your hand before packing up her work. She'll have time to do it later.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

EKKO

small couple trinket set.

The smooth, wooden surface of the little cat trinket in Ekko's jacket calms his mind long enough for him to find his footing. It's not often, but when the responsibilities and fear of failing start piling up, Ekko's anxiety reaches peak. When his thumb runs over the cool wood of the trinket though he's able to calm his mind and remember back to a better moment.

"Isn't it cute? It looks like you, don't you think?" You tease as you hold the pouty looking cat trinket up to his face. You almost choke on a laugh at the way his expression matches the cat so perfectly. He rolls his eyes, shaking his head at your antics as he spots the matching trinket. He picks up the other cat and smirks, holding up the cat to your face.

"Now that's a match." He says, and when you peak at the cat it's got a rather confused and dumbfounded look on it's face. You scoff, grumbling that you do not look like that. He chuckles as you set the cat down in defeat, moving on to the next stall. As you're distracted, he picks up the matching trinket set and buys them to surprise you with later.

He'll never forget the way you lit up as he handed you the cat that apparently "looked like him." Your giddy, child-like smile as you accepted it and proudly declared you named it 'Ekko Jr.' before informing him you'll 'treasure it forever and ever.' He then promptly showed you the matching piece, which you rolled your eyes at but ever so graciously allowed him to keep. Yeah, a better moment to remember.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

JAYCE TALIS

outfits.

"You two truly are disgusting." Viktor commented, with no malice, as you and Jayce entered the lab. Jayce just held a grin akin to a child in a candy store on his face as he looked over your outfit again- which matched his perfectly. It was surprising how many outfits Jayce coordinated in order to match you in some way or another.

"You're just jealous." Jayce held his head high with pride, turning to press a kiss to your cheek. "I'll pick you up later, okay?" You smile, leaning into the kiss and soaking up what warmth you could from him. Anyone who saw you two would surely get a tummy ache at how sweet the moment was.

"I'll be the one in the matching outfit." You chuckle, your laughter only growing at Viktor's faux vomiting. You decide to leave willingly before you were forced out, but not before giving Jayce quick peck on the lips. You run away as you hear a playful argument rise between the two.

"Seriously, how many outfits can you possibly match together?" Viktor sighs, shaking his head as he turns to continue his work.

"All of them." Jayce says earnestly, almost too prideful to not have a single article of clothing that doesn't have a matching counterpart to yours.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

JINX

nail polish.

It was easy to be captivated by Jinx, her voice like the lure of a siren, as she chats away about her day to you. She only gets this way because she trusts you, which in turns makes your own walls come down. Your eyes closed as you relax in her presence. Last time she had convinced you to match nail polish with her, a subtle way to claim you as hers to those in Zaun who eye you, thus you lay with your hand in hers.

Eventually she runs out of things to say and begins to just hum random tunes as the brush of the nail polish runs along your fingernails in a precise motion- as if she was painting on her newest creations. "Pink, blue, pink, blue~" When she's done she blows on them to help dry them faster.

"Jiiinx, that tickles," you whine, causing her to eye you with a mischievous smirk. At the quiet, you peak an eye open, which you regret as that's when Jinx pounces, straddling your lap and tickling you with a menacing laughter escaping her lips. "N- No! St- Stop! Please! I c- can't!" You squeak between laughing, thrashing around as she continues her attack- eventually you manage to get her off, but she looks ready to lunge at you any time.

"If you keep it up I won't let you finish my nails-" You lightly threaten, which causes her to hesitate, but she ultimately decides that maybe you could pull off a one-handed nail polish thing before attacking you again.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

MEL MEDARDA

stationery (pen).

It was a beautiful fountain pen with gold accents, and along the side in beautiful calligraphy was engraved 'forever.' It was by far Mel's favorite pen, it wrote smoothly, was beautiful to look at, but even more than that, it was a reminder of why she did what she did. For at home there was a matching counterpart to this pen, engraved with 'and always,' that always had her thinking about you.

Late nights had long since become a part of her routine, but the pen weighed heavy, like a message for her to wrap up her work before it got too late, and head home into the loving arms of you. So that's what she did. Mel wrapped up the last of her paperwork for the day before leaving, the commute home quiet as she fiddles with the pen, thinking of what you did throughout the day.

She smiled as she thought about how you'd greet her home, wrap your arms around her, kiss her. You'd pull her into the dining room and tell her about your day, chatting over dinner. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice when the carriage pulled up outside her estate.

It wasn't until your head peaked out the door that she was pulled out of her daydream, tucking the pen safely into her purse. She exited the carriage, her tired and weary body carrying her towards you until she was inside, ready to finally relax after a long, hard day.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

SEVIKA

whiskey glasses.

Idiots. She swore everyone she had to work with were idiots and purposely made her work harder to do. Sevika was much too ready to return home, and upon doing so, pulled out the matching whiskey glasses. You entered the room, sitting yourself on to the kitchen counters.

"That bad, huh?" You ask, accepting her offer and taking the whiskey glass. She sighs, shaking her head. She didn't even know where to begin, but she decided on pouring herself a glass was a good start. You listen to her complaints, your finger outlining the simple design on the glass. Yours and Sevika's initials engraved into the glass- a gift from a friend.

Sevika downs the rest of her drink after she finishes telling you about her day, and you decide to bring over the bottle as you sit with her on the couch. "Whatever, I don't want to think about it anymore." She grumbles, taking the bottle and taking a swig from it. She wraps her mechanical arm around you, pulling you in closer to her.

"Tell me about your day instead," She insists, watching the way you try to mimic her in taking a swig of your drink- it goes down less smoothly than Sevika made it out to be. She chuckles at the way you cough a little, and then at the way you throw her a glare. She's quiet though, when you finally tell her about your day. It's these small moments that have her thinking about just how lucky she is.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

VIKTOR

keychain.

"Vik, look at this!" You call him over, holding up the matching keychains for him to see. They were in the shape of puzzle pieces, and when they got close, they connected with a magnet. "Aren't these cute?" You hand them over to him and he looks over them inquisitively.

"Very," He says, before looking up at you with a small smile. "Should we get them?" He asks, though he already knew the answer. You try to act nonchalant, shrugging your shoulders and saying if 'he wanted to you two could get'em' but it was obviously all an act.

"I don't think we could leave without them." Viktor chuckles, because if there was anything Viktor loved more than his work it was indulging your whimsy. Thus the keychains were promptly bought and put to use. It was the only "fun" keychain on Viktor's, which only made it all the more special to you.

"Wait, but now we have to separate them," You realize, feeling a little guilty for forcing the two puzzle pieces to be away from each other. Viktor sighs, holding his half of the puzzle piece up for you to connect.

"It matters not the time they spend apart, as they're made for each other, and will inevitably always meet in the end."

Did he not realize he just said the most romantic thing to you? And now he's shocked you're tearing up? smh

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

VI

boxing gloves.

"One, two, one, two," Hitting the striking pads, Vi stood sturdy despite you putting your full force into each hit. Breathless, sweaty, and pretty tired, Vi decides a break is well in order for you both. You thank whatever god took mercy on you and take off your boxing gloves as you search for your water.

"Hey, babe..." Vi is rummaging around in her duffle bag, the crease between her brown deepening as what she searches for continues to evade her. "Did you take my gloves?" You look up at her, before looking down at the gloves. Inside on the label, written in sharpy, is the name 'VI' clearly written.

Sheepishly you hand them back to her, "Sorry, I thought they were mine," You say, now wondering where you last put the matching boxing gloves Vi had gotten you last year. In retrospect, Vi realizes that maybe getting you the exact same pair would inevitably lead to this situation.

"Nah, it's fine. I like when you wear my stuff anyways." She teases, enjoying the way you grow flustered at her words. She always had to say something in order to mess with you, and sadly for you, it always worked.

[floralpools]

Professor Howlett

Warnings: Minors dni, smut, no protection, fingering, vaginal, doggy, pet names, squirting, age gap (legal!), first person

Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Student (Mutant) reader

Summary: Your history professor always seemed uninterested in you—well, that was until you missed his class.

Word count: 2.7k

…

Throughout high school I’ve always kind of stood out. To be honest, I only have myself to blame. But, you see, bright colours and statement pieces are just so much more appealing than wearing something bland. And unfortunately, I did more than just “stand out” that day, just three weeks away from senior graduation. That fateful day… I was so close to the finish line when my stupid ex-boyfriend discovered my secret and outed it to the entire student body.

Truth is, i’m a mutant…

That’s what led me across the coast for most of the past year, running from god knows what. I had heard the stories of mutants being hunted and missing, and I didn’t intend to stick around long enough to be next on someone’s hit-list. I prayed I’d at least make it to my 20th birthday.

But then, my days of swindling folks for cash and food came to a stop, when I spotted a man with red-tinted glasses watching me. His invested gaze observed my every movement, so, I quickly grabbed all my shit, and the last bit of petty change I managed to get, and sprinted into the crowd.

Just when I thought I was in the clear, my face collided with a broad, firm chest. I pressed the heels of my palms into it, and felt the cotton of his white shirt, and the rough, yet smooth texture of his worn leather jacket.

Logan Howlett—or should I say, Mr. Howlett, my history Professor...

After he and Scott captured me, I was dragged by the ankles to their school for the “gifted.” I still remember cringing when they told me where we were headed. But once we arrived, and I saw all the kids who were like me, going about their lives freely, I knew everything would be more than okay.

And one thing I knew for sure, is that I wouldn’t mind attending Mr. Howlett’s class. Did I know jack-shit about history, yes. But I’ve always had a thing for the older guy, and from what I’ve heard, he’s more than enough in that department.

...

This morning, racing out of my room, I swore profusely at the time... Just my luck. The one day of the week I get to see and listen to Logan talk for an hour straight, my alarm malfunctions.

Multitasking between attempting to put on my hot-pink heels, wrapping my sparkly bag over my shoulder, and locking my door, I missed the approaching figure behind me.

“It’s past 11, where do you think you’re headed?” I swivel on my toes, spinning to face Storm.

“Class?” I sound meekly, like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“The only class you have left today is at four. You’ve already managed to miss the rest,” she scolds plainly.

“Noooo,” I fake astonishment and defeat, as I slowly back away from Storm's scrutinizing stare.

She calls my name after I’ve taken at least two large steps backward. “Logan wants to see you,” she states, visibly exasperated.

“Oh?” I straighten my spine, stopping my next step short. “Ok!” I exclaim, a little too perky. She huffs a faint smirk and walks off, and I take flight, zooming to Logan’s class room where he’s most likely waiting, dozing off in his chair.

Lo and behold, after knocking once and receiving no response, I open the door to see him snoring. With his legs fully extended, and feet resting on his desk, I bask in his lengthy physic. Then I giggle, moving towards him.

“Mr. Howlett?” I call politely before clearing my throat rather loudly. He grunts in his sleep and I smile. “Mr. Howlett?” I repeat even sweeter. A second later, I swear he mumbles my name and my heart stutters, and yet, he’s still sleeping.

I move in closer to his ear. “Logan,” I announce rigidly, and the change in tone makes him flinch, legs falling off the table, eyes popping open.

He rasps my name, his voice echoing throughout the classroom. I refused to move away from where I stood, despite the closeness. I wanted to seem unaffected by him, though in truth, I was anything but.

With his lazy eyes roaming over my skin, my heart thrashes wildly, beating against the cage I call my ribs. Logan then clears his throat, and rolls his eyes to look away from my attire, as he usually does—giving me a once-over before hauling his focus back to his lecture.

“You missed class. ‘sn’t like you,” he notes, almost to himself.

“Yes, and I’m sorry-“

“I hope it wasn’t cause you were too busy picking that outfit.” Logan scoffs and my eyes widen.

He’s always made snarky comments, and this wasn’t anything new, but every damn time he does, I still can’t help the boiling feeling in my lungs that makes me rise to defend myself.

“No, maybe I just felt like sleeping in?” I declare. A short-lived chuckle escapes him.

“And you’re just gonna admit that?” He smirks as he faces me. “I don’t like kids skipping my class.”

“First off, I’m an adult, second, you don’t care when kids skip your class,” I retort with a grin that beams across my face. His smile drops the second mine comes into full form.

He’s never seemed fond of my smile, or maybe it’s just me…

“You don’t skip my class.” He states once again, and my head quirks in confusion.

“Um, I’m sorry?” I try to compromise, “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” He remarks dangerously.

My brows furrow. “Okay…? I don’t get why it matters so much to you Mr. Howlett.” I place my hands on my hips, gazing down at him in his chair like I'm reprimanding a child. Which he is not akin to, especially given the fact that he’s the teacher, not me.

Logan lifts off his chair, standing up, leather heels hitting the wooden floor. I almost gasp when he towers over me, clearly trying to intimidate. “Watch your tone, or I’ll fail ya,” he counters, fighting a smirk.

“What?” I yelp, and his smirk breaks through his stoicism. My jaw goes slack. “Mr. Howlett, that’s not funny!”

“What isn’t funny, is you pretending like calling me 'Mr. Howlett,' doesn’t turn you on.”

I freeze, suddenly drowning in disbelief.

Was this one of my daydreams? Am I really awake right now?

“You heard me— you damn highlighter,” he asserts, eyes flickering to my outfit again. “Call me Logan for fucks sake, if you’re really an adult.” His gravelly voice loses all its humour, and I stay glued to the spot. “Get outta here, would ya,” Logan then orders before he leisurely retakes his seat, getting comfortable for his next nap.

Unable to drag myself away, my eyes refocus on the subject of my desires. A wave of urgency takes over. “Why do I have such a thing for assholes.”

Before Logan can respond to the insult with some more hostility, I sit on his lap, dropping my purse to straddle his hips. I then cup his perplexed face and crash our mouths together. He grunts in surprise, as if he didn’t expect me to retaliate, as if he didn’t expect that I would actually want him this way.

He really is all bark.

Half-heartedly, Logan tries to pull away in between kisses, whispering my name as a small protest, but he immediately gets muffled by my lips. When I grind on his lap, his objections quickly turn into a fierce groan.

Logan then takes my hips into his large hands, tightly gripping my flesh to push me back onto his desk. I whimper as his crotch stays stuck to my core, even as he manhandles me. One hand then moves from my hip to my neck, holding it, then it slowly sliding to my jaw, grasping it to give me a hungry, pressing kiss. His tongue laps my mouth, completely dominating the kiss. I struggle to breathe.

Just as I’m about to pull away to comment on how eager he seems, his other hand flips me over with ease. My stomach is now on top of his desk, his crotch, like iron against my ass, and his hands trace down from my shoulder blades, to my bum. With my head hung over the desk, I pant, practically drooling.

“You’re asking for detention pinky,” he mutters, and I respond by pushing back into his hard cock.

“I'm a sucker for extra attention, teach,” I breath out as sensually as I can muster. He chuckles lowly, and I shudder. The pressure of his crotch doesn’t change, and his hands continue their unhurried venture of me.

“You like attention?” Logan asks, his tone becoming surprisingly soft. His voice makes me shiver and whimper, yet again.

“I like yours.”

“Just mine?” He questions darkly, telling me exactly what he wants to hear.

“Yes,” I whisper.

His voice drops an octave when he swears, rolling his hips into me once more. I moan loudly. “Shhhh princess, you tryna alert the entire building?” He asks with amusement evident. I shake my head, no, and he just dips his head to laugh by my ear. “Good, because I don’t like sharing your attention,” he says passively, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “And I’d like to be the only ‘asshole,’ that gets to see what’s under these ridiculous clothes.”

“Hey!” I object weakly, and feel his smile before he leans back. I turn my head over my shoulder to catch him peering down at where our bodies meet.

“You probably want me to fuck you on this desk.” He speaks as though I’m not here to hear him. “Ya probably want to be taken right here, so that every time you’re sitting in my class, you can imagine me inside you.” He trails off as his hand pushes up my shirt, touching my lower back. “But we can’t do that,” he sighs hoarsely.

“Why?” My reply is so quick that I have to grimace.

He chuckles without humour. “Because… if we did, I’d get hard every time I’m in this fucking room, and that ain’t the smartest idea.” I moan at his crudeness and gasp when he suddenly pecks my naked spine, just below the clip of my bra. “Christ—even your lingerie is pink huh?” His chuckle sounds like silk. “Imagined it would be.”

My legs rub together at his words.

“You imagined it?”

He pauses. “Hell yeah I did, though I tried to fight it,” he muses in between a groan. “It didn’t take me long to figure you wanted this too, princess,” he murmurs almost proudly.

After a long beat of silence, and a little grinding, I speak up again. “So now what? If you’re not going to make love to me here.”

He slowly pushes the hair over my face, behind my ear, tilting my head to face him just a bit. He then leans down and kisses me on the cheek.

“I’ll come to you,” is all Logan says as he reluctantly wrenches himself from me, just after giving my ass a mellow slap. I gasp and nearly pout at the loss of touch. We then hold eye contact as he backs away. “Get going, otherwise you’ll be late for class,” he teases airily, and the edge of his lips twitch upwards. I nod and rush out the room with a grin plastered on my face—which stayed on my face for the rest of the day.

...

After a long, vigorous day, I finally collapse onto my plush bed with a hefty sigh.

“Took you long enough,” a dark voice rings out. There’s a hint of a familiar sass that makes me jolt upright. I spot Logan leaning on my wardrobe. His tight shirt strains against his chest when his arms cross. “Been waiting to ‘make love' to ya all day,” he claims with a goading tone, repeating my earlier remark.

(My best guess is that he assumes I’m a virgin from that sentence alone.)

In an attempt to remedy my reputation and sexual appeal, I sit up on my bed, elbows bracing my body upright, and I slowly spread my bent legs. Biting my bottom lip, I feel his eyes shift down and blacken. “Get on with it then, Logan.” His name rolls off my tongue. The challenge makes his head jerk in an almost feral manner, and I gulp.

“You’re asking for it,” is all he mumbles before pouncing on me. Our limbs tangle and I moan as his leg presses into my clothed clit.

“Please,” I just about sob, to which he responds with an aggressive kiss and another crushing rub of his thigh.

I moan louder, and he grunts, “You like that?” I shove my hands into his hair, running my fingers through the thick strands. He lets out a coarse groan.

Loving how vocal he is, I decide to encourage him by groping his cock over his rugged jeans. “Fuck, baby,” he groans out when his mouth leaves mine. He then runs his tongue over my neck and collar, soon nibbling on my earlobe. His thigh continues to make work of me, and I match his pace, grinding against his jeans. “You're so dirty,” he grins while his nose brushes my rosy cheek, and then he's kissing me. “I love it,” he professes with amusement, and something more gentle.

Just as I begin to undo his belt, he flips me over onto my stomach just like before. Then, when I'm lying flat underneath him, he grabs my hips to lift them towards his crotch as he kneels above me. “That thong better be pink,” he jokes as he strips me bare. He groans in satisfaction when I’m left in just my underwear, tailored for his viewing. “Unreal,” Logan practically purrs.

I wiggle my ass playfully, and he growls and smacks it harder than he did in his classroom. I squeal into my pillow, immediately going quiet when I hear his belt being ripped from the loops of his denim. Leaving my underwear in place, he runs his digits over the lace, making me whine, "Logan."

With his name on my tongue, it shortly turns into a cry as the lace covering my clit gets moved to the side, and two meaty fingers dive into me. "Shit, princess," he rasps. "How am I gonna fit?" He asks rhetorically, and I choke a sob, as he wastes no time building up an energetic pace, with his fingers.

He swiftly tears an orgasm from my trembling body, still holding my hips up with one hand. When his fingers leave, I hear his mouth clean them, and I swing my head to face him hastily, but he shoves my head back into my pillow. "So eager," he more or less snickers.

"Very," my smothered voice emits, barely audible.

I nearly shriek when his tip swipes my wet slit. Logan, without notice, suddenly pushes himself inside me, with an agonizing slowness, but I quietly persist. "Atta girl, that's it," he lazily groans out encouragements. My hands pathetically slide onto his thighs, unsure if I'm urging him for more, or begging for discretion.

At once, he shoves himself in all the way, and I let out an extensive sigh. His palm, which was just holding down my head, joins his other hand on my abandoned hip. He lets out various curses, along with my name, and begins to move, in and out. Soon enough, he's pounding into me at a savage rate, completely untamed. As well, it seems purposeful, how he simultaneously bends down to growl and moan in my ear, still thrusting.

He stirs another orgasm, still notably, not experiencing his own. "You look real pretty like this princess," he begins to ramble. "Gonna do this every fucking day." The rest of what he says gets lost in translation, as I grow overwhelmed and overstimulated.

Thoughtlessly, I try to crawl away while he still has my lower half hoisted up. Once Logan realizes what I'm up to, my pitiful effort has him laughing. "Where ya going?"

"Lo, it's too much-"

"Lo? Call me that again, it's cute," he hums.

"No more," I whimper, ignoring him.

"Just one more baby," Logan coos, while somehow increasing his pace, making me cum instantly, squirting a little. His moan rumbles in his chest, and he doesn't stop hammering into me. I grip my headboard, and one of his arms stretches alongside mine, to do the same.

When he cums, his grip snaps the wood, breaking a part of the headboard, making me shout in between sobs. He seems to not notice the damage, too busy finishing on my backside.

After a long minute, he slumps his large frame beside me. One of his arms stays drifting across my skin as his eyes intently coast over my features. "Maybe consider skipping my class more often," Logan expresses as his lips slightly tip upward. He presses his lips onto my shoulder.

I smile, giggling, "Why?"

"Cause it doesn’t matter where I fuck you, there's nowhere I won't get hard looking at that pretty face," he smiles dreamily, "And you're impractical wardrobe.”

I giggle, "You have a way with words," I pause and smirk, "Mr. Howlett."

He rises onto his elbow with a devilish grin, "Now you're just begging for it princess."

Part two

[muniimyg]

♡ 02: how you talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things

series m.list // taglist

note: ahh !!! thank u all for all the love with pt 1 :) drama begins in pt 3 !!! enj their good moments while it lasts (aka this pt) lmk what u think of their dynamic & if u have any predictions for whats to cum ;) HAHAH mwaaa

also !! happy birthday @jkslvsnella 🌟 thank u for always reading and loving my work 💛

warnings: mean!jk exposes oc (she's a virgin) ,, banter

//

the dim neon lights of the arcade cast a playful glow over the group as they gather by the bar. laughter and overlapping chatter fill the air, but jungkook’s eyes dart toward the entrance, scanning every face that walks in.

he blinks, trying to recenter himself.

why the fuck is he waiting for you?

“do you guys want to play a hoop shoot round?” yoongi suggests, leaning lazily against the counter. “loser buys the next round.”

the guys snicker but agree. without much discussion, they begin heading toward the games, but jungkook lingers behind, hesitating to speak.

there’s a weird feeling that stirs inside him.

he wants to stay and wait for you—wants everyone to stay and wait for you (though he knows how ridiculous that sounds).

his mouth opens, about to call them back, when—

“___!” jimin’s voice cuts through the noise. “over here! great timing!”

jungkook stiffens, tilting his head and clearing his throat as he notices you walking in.

you weave through the scattered crowd, waving casually to the group. your jacket hangs lazily off one shoulder, your hair is slightly windswept, and your lips are parted, like you’re already preparing some half-assed excuse.

“you’re late,” jungkook mutters, his tone sharp as you greet the others with warm hugs and him with a smug smile.

“no shit, mr. know-it-all,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes before awkwardly shifting closer to him for a quick, half-hearted hug.

he doesn’t even unfold his arms, patting your back stiffly—once, twice, three times.

“whatever.”

“didn’t know you took attendance. god, what don’t you do?”

“be late,” he quips, voice clipped.

you scoff, pulling away and swatting his chest. “nerdy of you, but whatever. we all have to accept our flaws one day. acknowledging them is the first step, or so they say.”

“it’s courtesy to show up on time,” he snaps, leaning casually against a nearby pinball machine. his eyes rake over you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle he’s losing patience for. “figured you’d get lost or trip over your own feet.”

“oh, bite me,” you retort, stepping closer and crossing your arms. “maybe find something better to do than waiting for me, hmm? something better to do than—”

before you can finish, a rowdy group stumbles toward the air hockey table behind you, shoving their way through the already cramped space.

jungkook moves without thinking, his hands firm on your waist as he pulls you aside and switches places with you.

“move,” he says bluntly, his grip barely lingering before he steps away again.

you freeze, your words dying in your throat. the touch—the casual way he did it, the way his hands fit so naturally—throws you off. your heart stutters for reasons you can’t quite name.

“what are you—”

“you’re in the way,” he interrupts, already back to leaning against the pinball machine like nothing happened.

“shit, jungkook,” you manage, trying to sound unaffected. “you can’t just move me like that. i almost thought you cared about me.”

“would you rather get knocked into the air hockey table?” he says flatly. “didn’t think so.”

you narrow your eyes at him, brushing past whatever just passed between you.

“fine,” you say with exaggerated calm, stepping away. “thank you… i guess.”

“what was that?”

“i said what i said.”

“say it again.”

“no.”

“don’t make me beg for something i deserve,” he groans, his tone a mix of mock irritation and teasing.

you roll your eyes. “sure… i’ll say it again—for the right price.”

“oh?” his brow lifts, and he’s already following after you. “how much are you charging these days?”

you turn back to glare at him, making a face as he smirks.

what you don’t see, what no one else notices, is how closely jungkook walks behind you as you move through the crowd. his hand hesitates near your waist again before he drops it, settling instead for angling his body, subtly shielding you from the chaos of the arcade.

it’s instinctive, unconscious—a quiet sort of care that he’d never admit to. but it’s just how jungkook is when you aren’t looking.

the air buzzes with the sounds of arcade games—buzzers, dings, and conversation on top of conversation. by now, the group has gravitated towards the hoop-shoot machines, their competitive banter echoing as they took turns missing shots.

when nam joon’s ball bounces dramatically off the rim, nearly taking out jimin, they all collapse into laughter.

"okay, okay!" taehyung claps his hands. "before anyone gets concussed, let's take a group photo!"

everyone gathers in front of the machines, huddling close together. you find yourself standing beside jungkook, his towering figure crowding your space as the guys shuffle to fit into the frame.

“move in,” jin calls out, holding up his phone. “no dead space.”

before you can step away, taehyung and yoongi each grab one of your shoulders, pushing you into jungkook’s side. his arm brushes yours, and when you glance up, he’s already rolling his eyes.

"stop squirming," he mutters.

"stop breathing down my neck," you bite back, earning a stifled laugh from yoongi.

“not my fault you’re short as fuck.”

“what about me do you not have a problem with, nerd?”

just as jungkook is about to tell you off, hobi hits his stomach and hisses at him. 

“shut the fuck up, smile, and—”

hobi bumps his hip with jungkook’s, causing him to lean closer to you. your head tilts and so does his. he clears his throat as he regains his balance. you continue to smile, pretending not to notice him looking at you. 

as the group poses, jin snaps several photos before pulling the phone down to review the shots. as everyone leans in to check the screen, a chorus of teasing begins.

"aw, look at that!" taehyung says, his grin spreading like wildfire as he leans closer to the phone screen. "this is a moment for the scrapbook. you two look so cute together."

the corner of jimin’s mouth twitches as he leans over taehyung’s shoulder, squinting at the photo before letting out a dramatic gasp.

“wait, is this… is this our it couple debuting right here? how did we miss this? it’s always those fucking enemies to lovers stories that hit… this could be it. oh my god!"

yoongi, not one to miss a beat, smirks from the side. 

“don't need to start. pretty sure the fanbase already exists.”

jin snorts. “don’t expose our late night conversations, bro. that’s our special bonding time.”

yoongi hisses at jin, smacking the back of his head for saying it so weird. 

"someone call dispatch," nam joon adds, cackling. "they're going viral as we speak."

"you’re joking,” you groan, face already warming as the guys snicker. “stop acting like it’s some movie poster. it’s just a group picture and—look at that! jungkook is looking at me like i’m stinky.”

“you are stinky.” jungkook scoffs.

you shove him playfully. “shut up.”

“oh no, it’s definitely poster-worthy,” jimin chimes in, nudging jungkook’s arm as he grins like a proud parent. "you can practically feel the sparks flying. jungkook’s over there pretending to hate it, but look at his hand. hovering like it’s meant to be."

"right?” hobi quips. “look at the way he’s leaning into her—”

jungkook glares. “hyung, you pushed me—”

“—bro’s living the rom-com life and doesn’t even know it.” hobi finishes. 

"yeah," yoongi deadpans, his lip curling in a mock-serious expression as he gestures vaguely at the photo. "what trope are you guys?”

"trope?" you snort, shooting a glance at Jungkook. “that’s going too far. i can’t be associated with him to that point. even angels like me have limits..”

"awh, don't ruin it," jimin teases. “you two look like you were made to stand next to each other. it’s fate, ___.”

"fate?" jungkook finally chimes in, his brow quirking as he scoffs. “more like bad luck. uglyass picture, by the way. jump-scare. trigger-warning. photoshop her out, please.”

his words are sharp, but the teasing rolls on, taehyung clapping jungkook on the back as he leans in closer. 

“don’t fight it, man. just admit it—you’re glowing.”

“you’re drunk.” jungkook grumbles, crossing his arms.

but even as he tries to brush it off, you catch the way his jaw ticks, the way his ears turn a faint shade of red. it almost makes you want to keep the teasing going.

almost.

you stretch over and take a proper look. 

your shoulders are pressed against jungkook’s, his hand awkwardly hovering near your back as if unsure where to put it. it’s ridiculous, but you decide to lean into the joke.

“awh,” you say, nudging him with a smirk. “wait. we do look cute together. look at you—nerdy boy finally getting close to the pretty girl. must be the highlight of your life.”

jungkook’s jaw tightens, and for a second, you think he might just let it slide. But then, his eyes narrow, and the smugness in his tone cuts deeper than you expect.

“yeah?” he says, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. “because the pretty girl who’s still a virgin at twenty-four is such a catch, right? must be fun carrying the weight of no guy ever wanting that kind of pressure.”

the air stills.

“what?” jungkook asks, unsure of why everyone’s mood suddenly shifted. “guys, we don’t need to hold ___’s hand for this. her situationships aren’t real. no guy wants her and it’s because of all her fucking issues… so don’t tease me about shit like that. why would i want her? she’s too fucked up.”

your heart sinks as the laughter dies around you, the guys exchanging awkward glances. you force a tight smile, shrugging as if the jab didn’t just land in the worst way possible.

“ha… ha… yeah. sure. what he said,” you mutter, slipping out of the group without looking back.

you weave through the crowd, the din of the arcade becoming background noise to the rush of your thoughts. yoongi and nam joon sigh and excuse themselves to follow you. 

“fuck,” taehyung groans at jungkook. “for a nerd, you aren’t that smart."

jungkook throws his head back.

"okay, fine. i went too far."

taehyung forces a laugh and pats jungkook's shoulder. "i just... i don't why do you always shit the bed when it comes to ___. would it kill you consider her feelings once in a while?"

"she started it—"

"we started it," taehyung corrects him. "you fuck it up and then we have to fix it. why can't we start it and you figure it out?"

"what's there to figure out?"

taehyung sighs.

"seriously, what's there to figure out?" jungkook repeats, his voice rough with frustration, though there’s a slight tension in his jaw, as if he’s trying to keep himself in check.

taehyung runs a hand through his hair like he’s had this conversation a million times before. “you overthink everything, man. just… talk to her. it’s not that hard.”

jungkook scoffs. "i talk to her."

"yeah right," taehyung shoots back, now leaning in closer, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of concern and exasperation. "she isn't gonna stick around forever... especially with all the shit you pull. is it that hard to show that you care for her? even just a little bit? you can even fake it for all we care... just... stop doing this. stop fucking it up."

jungkook opens his mouth to retort, but then he just...

doesn’t.

he falls silent, his gaze drifting over to where you’re standing, still laughing with yoongi, oblivious to the conversation happening behind her. his expression softens for a moment, but the tension doesn’t fully leave his shoulders.

“... i don’t know what to say to her,” jungkook mutters after a long pause, his voice quieter this time, almost vulnerable.

taehyung rolls his eyes, his voice taking on a teasing edge again.

"i'm not asking you to be perfect," taehyung says, his tone suddenly serious. "i just want you to try.”

jungkook's eyes narrow, but he doesn’t argue.

he knows taehyung’s right.

and the idea of trying—really trying—is both terrifying and somehow comforting. it’s just a matter of taking the first step.

"alright, alright. i get it." jungkook sighs, running a hand through his hair. "but if i mess it up again…"

“you will,” taehyung says with a grin, smacking him on the back. “and when you do, we’ll be here to clean up your mess.”

jungkook groans. "great. thanks. god, you guys are impossible."

taehyung just laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.

"that’s what friends are for."

“that one’s cute,” you say softly, pointing to a pastel plushie trapped inside the glass case. “but aren’t these things rigged?” 

yoongi glances at the plushie, then back at you, offering a faint smile. “hello kitty? can’t you just buy it in store?”

“it’s different.”

“how so?”

“winning it is better. means more.”

he laughs at you. ruffling your hair, he asks; “think you can win it?”

“probably not,” you admit with a dry laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “i suck at these things.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook has followed, lingering a few steps behind. 

he watches quietly as you and yoongi chat, his arms folded across his chest, his usual cocky posture softened just enough to give off a more contemplative vibe. his gaze shifts to the hello kitty plushie you pointed out, taking in every detail—the soft pastel fabric, the little bow. 

his jaw tightens.

for a second, he looks almost… distant. something flickers across his face—a mix of regret, maybe? or determination? it’s hard to tell, and he’s quick to push the thought aside. he can’t figure out why this damn hello kitty plushie is bothering him, but it does.

his hands shift in his pockets, fingers brushing against the cool edges of his arcade card. the sound of you and yoongi laughing lightly as you move on to a different machine pulls him out of his trance. 

he’s still standing there, staring at the claw machine, his mind reeling.

get it together, he tells himself. it's a stupid fucking hello kitty plushie.

but as the two of you move further away, jungkook finds his feet taking him toward the claw machine. his body moves on its own, a subtle, almost unconscious determination settling into his posture. he steps up to the machine, his heart thumping a little louder than usual.

with a quick flick of his wrist, he taps the arcade card to the screen, paying for a round. The soft beep of the machine filling the air is oddly satisfying. he glances at the claw, watches it shift slightly in the plastic case, and his mind sharpens. the whole world narrows down to this one moment—the claw, the plushie, and the stupid, ridiculous thought that maybe, just maybe, it would mean something.

he leans in a little closer to the machine, his focus narrowing as his fingers hover just over the controls. his chest tightens, just a little.

but there’s something about this—about trying—that feels...

new.

almost like he's playing for something that’s not just a game.

as the arcade starts to empty out, the night comes to an end.

the group begins to break into separate plans. some were heading out for more drinks, the usual late-night crowd craving more chaos, while others, like you and jungkook, were heading home. yoongi, standing beside you both, clapped jungkook on the shoulder and offered a casual “see you later,” his eyes lingering a moment too long on the tension that still hung between you two.

by now, jungkook had tried to apologize multiple times throughout the night. too many times to count—but each time, you’d brushed him off, walking away before he could finish his words.

it was the same pattern that had played out earlier, with him following close behind, trying to make up for whatever had gone wrong, but you’d always managed to slip out of his reach, words left unsaid and apologies unacknowledged.

as you stepped outside into the crisp night air, the glow of neon signs casting faint colors over the sidewalk, you took a deep breath. the cool wind ruffled your hair, and you tucked a stray strand behind your ear, eyes darting to the ground, avoiding jungkook’s gaze.

“my hinge crush of the week wants to meet up… so, bye!” jimin called out, adjusting his jacket as he moved toward the waiting uber.

the others offered their farewells, the air filled with laughs and promises to meet again soon.

jungkook is quiet, his eyes still on you, a knot of frustration building in his stomach.

as you’re about to turn away, he finally speaks. his voice is soft but firm.

“can i drive you home?”

you don’t even look at him, a slight shake of your head as you took a step back.

“i’m good. thanks for the offer.”

he takes a slow step forward, determination flashing in his eyes.

“shit, ___. come on, don’t be like that. it’s late. i’m not letting you walk home alone.”

“i’m fine,” you reassure him again, taking another step away. “they’re all gone. you can stop pretending you care—w-whoa—“

but as you turn to leave, the way you step gets caught on a loose patch of pavement, and before you can stop yourself, you stumble forward. your heart lurches in your chest as your body lurches toward the ground. 

but a strong and steady hand grips your waist, pulling you back against a solid chest.

“fuck, watch your step—” jungkook mutters, his voice lower now, a hint of something you couldn’t quite place in it. his grip tightened just enough to keep you from stumbling again.

you freeze for a second, your breath catching as his fingers brushed against your side, his body warm against yours. the shock of his touch sent a strange shiver down your spine, but before you could react, his voice comes again, this time with a soft but unmistakable smirk.

“you’re all out of choices now.”

his words hang in the air as he takes your waist, gently but firmly guiding you toward his car. the playful edge in his voice made your stomach flip.

he doesn’t wait for a response.

he pulls you closer as you walk together. 

you want to pull away. 

you want to protest, but something about the way he holds you—steady, unwavering—makes it impossible to do anything but follow. 

so, you give in. 

you slide into the passenger seat of jungkook’s car, the leather cold against your legs as you settle in. the familiar scent of his cologne fills the small space, mixing with the faint scent of his car’s interior. before you can even close the door, jungkook is already moving to the driver’s side, slipping in next to you with practiced ease.

he turns the key, the engine rumbling to life, and immediately, he leans over to help you with your seatbelt. his hand brushes against yours, sending a strange flutter through your chest as his fingers fumble with the latch, and you try not to think too much about how gentle his touch is.

“thanks,” you mumble, turning your head toward the window, avoiding his gaze. 

the tension between you two still lingers, thick and heavy, but neither of you says anything, and soon the quiet hum of the engine fills the air instead.

the drive starts out like most others, the city lights blinking past the windows as jungkook takes a turn, his hands steady on the wheel. but then, as the cool night air seeps in through the slightly cracked window, you suddenly feel the chill of the evening air hit your skin, a shiver running down your spine.

you don’t even have to say anything. without a word, jungkook pulls off his jacket, glancing over at you. 

“you cold?” he asks, his voice low, almost concerned, but his eyes are still focused on the road.

before you can respond, his white jacket is draped over your shoulders like a blanket. 

it’s warm, soft—still holding the faint trace of his warmth—and for a moment, you find yourself frozen, not sure whether you should pull it off or accept the comfort. but it’s his gesture, the way he’s silently taking care of you, and the faint thought that maybe he’s not such an ass after all, that makes you just pull the jacket tighter around yourself, not saying anything.

the silence stretches on, with only the sound of his car’s engine and the soft tunes filling the air, low music that drowns out everything else.

it’s a little uncomfortable. 

a little too close. 

and yet, somehow, you don’t mind it.

minutes pass, and you can’t help but notice how the buildings are getting fewer, how the city streets are slipping behind, and suddenly, it hits you—he’s not turning into your neighborhood.

“wait,” you finally speak up, your voice sounding strangely foreign in the quiet car. “you just passed my place.”

he doesn’t even glance over at you, just keeps driving, his eyes focused on the road ahead. 

“i know.”

“then where are you going?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but a flicker of annoyance laces your tone. “jungkook, what the hell?”

“the only way for you to talk to me,” he says, his voice calm but with a touch of something else beneath it. 

something you can’t quite place.

“what?” you blink, confusion clouding your thoughts. “this is considered kidnapping.”

jungkook chuckles, the sound low and almost playful.

“only way for you to talk to me, like i said.”

you narrow your eyes at him, a mix of frustration and something else building inside you. 

“you’re seriously driving me around for what, exactly? to waste gas? to waste your time?”

“to wait for you.”

“oh my god,” you stress. “you and your fucking words.”

he smirks. “are they working?”

you gulp. 

“come on, ___. act like a bitch all night, i don’t care… but you’re gonna talk to me.”

you’re quiet for a moment, staring out the window, watching the city blur past. the absurdity of the situation sinks in, but it’s also hard to ignore the fact that you’re starting to feel a strange sense of... comfort in his presence.

“fine,” you finally say, voice quiet but sharp. “what do you want me to say, huh? you’ve been apologizing all night and i’ve been brushing you off. you said what you said. it’s done.”

jungkook shifts in his seat, and for the first time, you notice how his grip tightens on the wheel, how his jaw clenches ever so slightly. 

“keep talking.”

“i’m done.”

“no,” he insists. “i don’t care what you say… i just need you to talk to me, ___. that’s all.”

you don’t respond right away, not sure how to react to that admission, or if it’s even true. but the way his words hang in the air, the sincerity behind them, makes you want to crack open. 

makes you want to say something—anything—but the walls are still up.

“do you want me to fuck you or something?” 

your eyes widen and your throat goes dry. 

what the fuck did he just say?

“excuse me?” 

jungkook then pulls over, parking his car at some random street. his car lights and the lamppost nearby are the only light sources… but that doesn’t stop you from knowing how close he is to you. you don’t need much light—you feel it. you feel his presence. 

“is that why your panties are in a twist? you need dick or something? you’ve been acting weird since you overheard me fucking—”

“i don’t want to know her name.” 

jungkook blinks at you. 

“... so you are bothered by her.”

you pause. 

“n-no. no, i’m not. it’s just… weird. i don’t want to know because i don’t want to know.”

“okay,” jungkook nods. “can i know something then?”

you hesitate. 

“do you forgive me yet? i… i fucked up. i’m sorry, __. seriously. that wasn’t cool of me.” 

you take a breath in. 

“i forgive you,” you admit. “but be honest with me. did you mean it?”

jungkook shakes his head profusely. 

“no,” he confesses. “no, i didn’t mean it. i think it’s cute that you’re a virgin—”

“stop!” you cry, throwing your hands to cover your face. “shut up.”

he laughs, finding your panic a little cute. 

“what? you never get horny?” 

you drop your hands, completely dumbfounded at how this conversation has unfolded in a matter of minutes. 

“i do,” you tell him. 

“with what? with who?” 

you tilt your head and squint at him. 

“curious?”

“disgusted, actually.” he mocks you. 

you can’t help but let out a laugh.  

then, a silence falls upon you two. 

but… it’s an okay kind. the kind where you two aren’t mad at each other and everything is truly lighthearted. it’s a rare kind of atmosphere for you two share. 

the tension that had once been suffocating now feels more like a slow burn, simmering quietly in the space between you. it’s strange, this shift. but it’s also... comforting.

in a way, it’s like stepping onto solid ground after floating in the middle of an ocean for too long.

you glance over at jungkook, his profile soft in the dim light from the streetlamps. his fingers are gripping the steering wheel lightly, his knuckles slightly pale, like he’s trying to keep himself grounded too. he’s not saying anything, but his presence is loud. in some ways, that’s all you need. 

that he’s here. 

that you’re both here, together, after all the back and forth, all the words exchanged, the small cracks and the moments of silence.

the question comes out before you can stop it, and you almost want to take it back the second it leaves your mouth. 

but you’re already committed. 

"think i could do it?" you say, voice softer than you intended, more vulnerable than you meant.

jungkook shifts in his seat slightly, his eyes flicking toward you.

“do what?"

"get you to want me?"

for a split second, you think you’ve gone too far. 

jungkook is quiet for a long time, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. it’s like he’s weighing the question, figuring out if you mean it. if it’s just some fleeting thought, or if you’re really standing here, raw and honest, in the middle of it all.

and then he speaks, his voice low but steady, a hint of something in it that you can’t quite place.

“why would you want that?”

the question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re unsure of how to respond. but then you think about it, really think about it. 

"i don’t know."

the vulnerability is almost too much, too raw. 

it feels like every inch of you is laid bare, exposed in a way you weren’t sure you could handle. you stare at your hands, anything to avoid the intensity of his gaze, but it’s there, lingering in the quiet air between you. it fills the space, like you can feel every word left unsaid pressing against your chest.

jungkook doesn’t say anything right away, the silence stretching long enough that you start to wonder if maybe you said the wrong thing. maybe you pushed too far, too fast.

but then, he speaks.

"wanna find out?"

his voice is low, almost teasing, but there's something else there too—something that makes your heart skip a beat. 

you glance up at him, your eyes meeting his again, and you realize in that moment that this is where it all comes together. the question, the hesitation, the rawness of it all. 

he’s not pulling away, not like you expected.

he’s waiting…

for you.

[fireinmoonshot]

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Reader Summary: Joaquin will always insist on you wearing his jacket when you're cold... even if it means he's freezing. Warnings: I don't think there are any other than Joaquin being a little suggestive. Word Count: 779 A/N: Just a small one tonight! I had this idea today (also at work, what a surprise) and thought it'd be a cute one to post as a drabble rather than a full one shot. I have a bigger fic coming probably tomorrow night as well! 💗

The second Joaquin notices that you’re starting to shiver he’s shrugging off his jacket and handing it to you. It’s cold outside, the middle of winter, and you’d both decided it’d be a great idea to come down and watch a soccer game – one of your friends kids were playing.

“Baby, I’m fine,” you say, trying to hand the jacket back to him. 

It leaves him in only a t-shirt – the man isn’t great at dressing for the weather sometimes – and you have two layers on. You can’t leave him without a coat, especially with the way the wind is blowing and getting icier by the second.

Joaquin insists, pushing the jacket into your arms. “I won’t have you standing around here freezing, angel. Will you just put it on? Or I’ll put it on you myself.”

With a sigh, you pull the jacket on, putting your arms through the sleeves. You have to admit, you love wearing Joaquin’s clothes. They’re always warm and always smell like him. It’s like being wrapped in a hug without actually touching him. You pull the collar up, protecting your neck a little from the breeze, and shove your hands into the pockets.

You continue watching the soccer game, cheering on your friends son whenever he scores a goal and trying your best not to get mad when a kid accidentally trips him over. Joaquin, still standing beside you, mutters a curse word under his breath – something in Spanish that you don’t hear properly.

There’s a particularly strong gust of wind that passes across the field and it’s only then that you notice Joaquin shivering beside you. His arms are crossed over his chest, his hands wedged underneath his armpits in a poor attempt to warm them up. You almost laugh at the sight of him. 

You start to pull the jacket off to give it back to him, already knowing that your two layers are going to be enough to keep you warm compared to your slowly freezing boyfriend, but Joaquin sees you out of the corner of his eye. 

“Ah, angel, what are you doing? Keep it on, it’s freezing out here,” he says, moving to stand in front of you and tug the jacket back up onto your shoulders. 

“You don’t say?” You smirk, raising your eyebrows at him. “You’re cold, Joaquin.”

“Nooo,” he drags out the word. “I’m fine, really. Not cold in the slightest.”

“I can see the goosebumps on your arms, Joaquin. You need this more than I do.” You reach up and grab one of his arms, feeling how cold his skin is. “Yeah, baby, you’re turning to ice.”

Joaquin shakes his head, a small smile making its way onto his lips. “I’d freeze to death if it meant keeping you warm.” 

“Well, as romantic as I know you meant to make that sound, the last thing I want is my boyfriend freezing to death while I’m standing here in his jacket,” you reply. You’re quicker to pull the jacket off this time and waste no time in thrusting it into his arms. “Put it on, Joaquin, or I will put it on you.”

He sighs, shaking his head as he pulls his jacket back on. “Damn, I love when you get bossy.” He moves to stand beside you, but only two seconds later steps a little further back so he’s behind you. “I’m still not gonna let you freeze.”

You smile to yourself as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you back into his chest. He hooks his hand onto his forearm to keep his arms steady and presses a kiss to the top of your head. This is clearly his attempt at keeping you warm despite you forcing him to wear his own jacket.

“I don’t know if the soccer moms are gonna approve of this PDA, baby,” you mutter, happily leaning back into his chest. Somehow, this is even warmer than wearing his jacket.

Joaquin snorts. “Angel, I just saw two parents have a celebratory make-out session when their son kicked a goal. I don’t think we’re gonna cause the soccer moms too much grief by me wrapping my arms around you,” he says. “Of course, we could always give them more of a show if you wanted…” He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek.

You’re quick to deliver a swift, yet soft, elbow backwards, right into his stomach. He grunts in pain. “Okay, didn’t know you were into that, but I can make it work.”

“Just watch the game, Joaquin,” you let out a laugh. “No one is getting a show.”

“Maybe not right now but…”

“Joaquin.”

“Fine…”

[woantohae]

Total eclipse of the heart || (Bob Reynolds x Polaris au! reader x The Void)

Summary: The team has decided that Bob should take a break for a while after what happened, in a house away from everything. To that end, they've taken turns watching him, but Bob only seems to like Y/N's company.

Author's note: This is Part IV of the Thunderbolts series I'm writing with Bob. I need more stories with him, but I'm sure there will be more when the movie comes out, so we'll have to wait and see.

Content warnings: fluff, light angst, void being obssesed with reader, Bob being a sweetheart, void catching feelings, polaris au! reader.

Bob opens his eyes suddenly.

His gaze meets the window overlooking the house's balcony, which he often frequents when he can't sleep. Then, he sits up in bed and rubs his eyes with his hands to remove the traces of sleep and pull the sheets off his body. His bare feet touched the carpeted floor and he moved out of the room, heading down the stairs.

The team had decided to take him far away from New York City and the memories of all the mess he—or rather, his other evil entity—had caused. Bob had agreed to the idea of ​​getting away for a while and trying to clear his head. The only condition was that once a week, a member of the group would check on him to see if everything was okay.

So far, Yelena and Bucky had already gone to see him. So, thinking about the fact that Y/N could be arriving soon made Bob feel calm and at the same time nervous about seeing her. It was no surprise to anyone that he preferred the girl as his favorite member of the group; from the first moment they noticed their interactions, they could tell the man's preference for her.

He really likes Y/N.

We really like Y/N.

That voice haunting him again.

After what happened with Valentina and the team fighting his other self, Void has been more present than ever. Especially when she comes or when he senses Y/N is about to arrive. Like now, when he hears three knocks on the front door.

The man rushes to the door and takes a deep breath before opening it to find a smiling Y/N.

"Hey Bobby," she greets him.

"Hi Y/N. It's good to see you here," he says, shifting his body so she can go in first. Then he closes the door, his gaze never leaving the girl. "Is everything okay with the others?"

Y/N turns to look at him, smiling slightly. "Everything's fine," she says, placing her hands in the pockets of her green jacket, "although it's not the same without you."

Bob blushes and laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

"That's uh... uh... good?" he says.

The truth is, she makes him nervous, like when he first met Linda. It had been a while since he felt that way; it was an effect that not even drugs could overcome, remembering how good it felt.

"Did you have breakfast?" she asked, walking into the kitchen. Bob shakes his head and approaches as well. "I can help you with that," she says with a smile.

The girl moves her hands and uses her powers to begin taking out the cutlery and a metal bowl to start cooking something. Bob still finds her handling of her powers fascinating, wondering if he'll ever have full control of his own.

A pleasant silence falls over them, the only sounds being the tapping of forks against the plate and the kettle indicating the water is ready. Bob walks over to turn it off and start making coffee while Y/N finishes making the pancakes. The moment feels so domestic that they both take advantage of it, spending the entire morning getting to know each other a little better.

And perhaps deciphering feelings that they thought would be impossible to feel again.

They had spent the entire day immersed in each other. Bob had told her things about his past, just as she had told him. They had realized they had several things in common, which made them feel complicit when it came to admitting their secrets and memories.

The night witnessed the knowing and lingering glances they cast on each other when they thought they weren't being watched by the other. Y/N had caught Bob's curious, tender eyes on her a couple of times, which only made her smile shyly and feel a blush creep into her cheeks. She thought Bob was an incredible person, and even though she didn't know him perfectly, she was certain of it.

And she had all the time in the world to do so, like tonight, for example.

"So, you fought with the Avengers against a purple Mad Titan?" he asks, frowning at the crazy memory.

She laughs and nods. "Yeah, twice. The first time we didn't make it, and the snap happened, and we all disappeared," the girl explains, playing with Bob's Rubik's Cube as they look out at the landscape from the roof of the house. "But it only lasted a couple of minutes until they brought us back, and we fought again, this time defeating Thanos. Thanks to Tony."

"The Tony Stark?" he asks in amazement, and she nods "That's amazing."

"That's when I met Bucky. Well, a couple of years ago, when this whole Sokovia Accords thing came up," she shrugs. "We fought on opposing teams led by Tony and Steve. It was my first time trying to participate in something that was considered good."

Y/N is quiet for a moment, a look on her face as if she's internally debating whether to share another important part of her life.

"And then I met Dieter."

Bob mimics her silence and swallows as the girl's face falls for a moment.

"Dieter was the one from...?" he ventures to ask, remembering the boy who appeared once they were in the void.

She makes a sound with her mouth, nodding her head.

"Dieter was a great friend," she admits, and stops moving the cube in her hands, feeling a chill run through her body. "He was someone who helped me when I was alone, and when I kept getting into trouble. Never left my side, even though he knew how dangerous it was to be with me."

Y/N looks down for a few seconds and swallows to relieve the pain forming in her throat. Bob notices this and the goosebumps forming on her arms, so without a second thought, he takes off the navy blue sweater he's wearing and gently touches her arm.

"Oh, it's okay," she says, laughing slightly.

"You know it's not," he says softly.

Y/N stares at him and lets Bob pull the sweater over her head, gently adjusting it on her body. It's bigger than it looks, and her nostrils instantly smell Bob's perfume, feeling the warmth of the garment immediately embrace her.

Bob remains in a short-sleeved shirt and crosses his arms.

"Now you'll be cold," she mentions, noticing the gesture.

He shrugs and dares to try flirting with her.

"Next time you can return the favor," he says, looking into her eyes.

Y/N raises an eyebrow and the corner of her lips lifts in a smirk.

"Next time, huh?" she asks, connecting her gaze with his.

The girl ventures to rest her head on the brunette's shoulder, making him freeze and feel his heart pounding, hoping she won't notice so easily. Then she wraps her arm around his and allows herself to continue appreciating the scenery.

"Next time, then," she promises.

Neither of them wants the moment to end, so Y/N asks a question to continue the conversation between them.

"Have you been okay?" She feels Bob let out a heavy sigh.

"You could say so," he answers, uncertain about the matter. He's not sure how he feels either. "Sometimes I spend sleepless nights afraid I'll lose control again. Or I can't stop moving just to have something else to think about. I wasn't as lost when I was on drugs as I am now."

She listens intently and steps away from him to get a better look. The man clenches his jaw and continues staring straight ahead.

"I'm a lost cause," he admits with a bitter taste in his mouth. "I always have been, and I always will be. I couldn't quit drugs, I lost important people because of my damn head and that damn other me that tries to consume me every day. I lose control and it's like I'm not me and... it doesn't matter if I try if I can't even take control of myself."

Y/N looks at him, sympathetic. She knows what it's like to feel that way and hates seeing him dejected by it.

"I'm lucky you and Yelena were there, and Bucky decided to trust me, and the rest too. But I still feel like I'm not worth it. I don't think I will."

Y/N licks her lips and places a hand on the man's cheek, making him look into her eyes.

"You are worth it. And you're not a lost cause," Y/N assures him in a firm voice. "We all go through it on the team, but at the end of the day, we were able to make it happen. It's up to us to change that, even if we have to take small steps to achieve it."

Bob looks at her, and his gaze softens.

"You have us to keep you company," she tells him with a slight smile. "You have me, too. And I'll make sure you don't forget why you've been doing this in the first place."

The brunette lowers his gaze to the girl's lips and thinks about how much he wants to kiss her, knowing that she will be with him throughout this entire process.

"You want to kiss me, huh?" she asks, amused, and he blushes, realizing he thought it out loud.

"I mean... well, it's not that I want to kiss you. Well, yes, but... I mean..." he stutters and freezes by the action of the girl.

Y/N kisses his cheek for a few seconds and pulls away to look at him again.

"I understand," she says, then lets out a sigh and gets up. "I think it's best to go to sleep, what do you say?"

He nods and jumps up, picking up the Rubik's Cube piece. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sleep, of course."

Void was awake.

He wandered aimlessly through the halls of the house, each step heavier than the last.

He was tired of being locked in his own darkness; he just wanted to take control and leave the place once and for all, so he could pursue his desire to dominate everything in his path.

He was a God, someone so powerful that no one could stop him.

However, there was someone who could do it besides Bob, something the dark presence didn't like to accept. Void realized that the time he fought against the Thunderbolts in New York. That time he managed to consume much of the city and its citizens in the darkness he reigned; the entity could have done so if not for a slight obstacle that crossed his path. And it wasn't the group, nor Bob—although it had a lot to do with him when he managed to control his mind and regain total control of himself.

Void walked confidently until he entered the guest room where Y/N was sleeping. The girl slept peacefully, her breathing calm as her chest rose and fell, immersed in the world of her dreams. Her hair fell across her forehead, and Void didn't hesitate to enter the room until he stood at the side of the bed.

Ever since Bob sent him back to the dark side of himself, he never stopped watching Y/N —following her, and feeling her. It was like a magnetic force that involuntarily drew him toward her, and it wasn't her powers that did it. It was her.

Perhaps it was the power the girl could unleash once she knew what she was really capable of, which could be useful to Void. Someone almost as powerful as him at his side, even if he didn't need it, could be an advantage in trying to take control once and for all. He had so much potential, but the girl wasted it doing good.

Void kneels down until he's level with the bed and stares at Y/N, unaware of his presence beside and so close to her. He runs his eyes over every detail of her face, memorizing every mole, freckle, and spot, lingering for a long moment on her lips. Void's jaw tightens and he directs his gaze to the strand of hair falling across her forehead, smoothing it back with his fingers. Y/N stirs in bed, frowning slightly at the cold sensation of something touching her skin.

Void doesn't even flinch.

He stays in place until he sees Y/N relax her frown again and fall back into a deep sleep. He smirks and sits watching her, feeling Bob struggle to get him to leave the room and leave her alone.

He chuckles.

"Oh, Bob," he mutters to himself. "You're not the only one interested in her."

If you hurt her, I swear I'll...

"You'll what? Send me back where I belong?" he sneers, and he feels Bob fighting with all his might to return to the light. "Try it, but you can be sure as hell I'll be back. Now I'm even more eager to meet Y/N. She's a gorgeous, don't you think?"

Don't even try it.

"Oh," he says in a low voice "but i just did"

Void keeps watching her.

"And I will"

[seospicybin]

COCKY.

CHAPTER II.

Bangchan x reader. (s,f)

Chapters: Chapter I

Synopsis: As a researcher developing a specialized condom in extra large sizes, you never expected the company’s product manager, Chris, to volunteer as a test subject—let alone for things to get this complicated. Balancing professionalism with undeniable chemistry, you must navigate a partnership that’s strictly business… or so you keep telling yourself. (19,8k words)

Author's note: Hope you can handle the amount of cockiness in this one. Pls share your thoughts on it after, enjoy ♡

As you step into the lab this morning, you expect a normal start to your day—running tests, reviewing reports, maybe dealing with Jane’s ongoing stress about her own project. But as soon as you walk in, you realize something is off.

There’s a man standing in the middle of the room, casually looking around as if he belongs there. You pause for a second, taking him in—he’s effortlessly handsome, with sharp, playful eyes that hold a spark of mischief. His dark hair is slightly tousled, as if he just ran a hand through it. The confidence in his posture is undeniable, his toned frame draped in a worn-out leather jacket over a plain white t-shirt. When he notices you, his lips curl into a smirk that suggests he’s already enjoying himself.

He notices you before you can say anything, turning to face you fully. A slow smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as he offers his hand.

"Finally, I was starting to think I had the wrong lab," he says with a playful lilt to it.

You straighten your shoulders, keeping your expression neutral as you carefully ask, “I'm sorry but who are you?”

“Han Jisung,” he introduces himself, his voice smooth and teasing as he holds his hand out at you. “Your new test subject.”

You blink. Of all the things you expected today, this was definitely not one of them. You shake his hand briefly, noting the warmth of his grip before pulling away. “Right. Thanks for coming in.”

He chuckles, tilting his head as he studies you. “Not the reaction I was expecting. Do all your test subjects get this warm welcome, or am I special?”

You keep your professionalism intact, offering a polite but firm smile. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Han takes a seat across from you, draping himself over the chair like he’s settling in for an entertaining conversation rather than a clinical interview. You step over to the counter and grab a disposable cup, filling it with the freshly brewed coffee that had been keeping you company all morning.

“Here,” you say, placing it in front of him as you take a seat across from him at the cold lab table.

He raises a brow, lifting the cup to his lips. “Well, this is already better than most first dates.”

You roll your eyes but don’t entertain the comment. “Before we begin, let me explain what we’re doing today. This session is purely an interview. We’ll go over your medical history, habits, and other necessary details to make sure you’re a suitable candidate for testing the product.”

Han takes a slow sip, eyes locked onto yours over the rim of the cup. “So no hands-on testing today?”

“Not today,” you confirm with an easy chuckle.

He hums thoughtfully. “Guess I’ll just have to be patient.”

You choose to ignore that and pick up your clipboard, clicking your pen. “Alright, let’s start with some basic questions. Your full name?”

“Han Jisung,” he replies smoothly.

“Age?”

“Twenty-four,” he says. “But if you’re into older guys, I can lie.”

You hold back a sigh and move on. “Occupation?”

“Sound engineer. Freelance.”

“Are you sexually active?”

A slow, knowing grin spreads across his face. He leans in slightly, resting his elbow on the table. “Oh, absolutely.”

You keep your face neutral. “Care to elaborate?”

He shrugs. “I believe in keeping things… consistent. And exciting.” His eyes sweep over you, lingering just a second too long. “What about you?”

You ignore him and move to the next question. “Do you smoke?”

“Nope.”

“Drink?”

“Socially,” he answers, then tilts his head. “I’m assuming you need all this info for the test, but if you wanted to get to know me, you could’ve just asked me out.”

You manage to keep your composure, offering him a mild, unbothered look. “You volunteered for this, remember?”

“I did,” Han nods, looking satisfied. “And now that I’m here, I think I made a great choice.”

You exhale through your nose, choosing to move on rather than feed into his antics. “Do you have any known allergies?”

His lips curve into something wicked. “Not to latex, if that’s what you’re asking.”

This is going to be a long interview. You mutter inside your head.

A few moments later, you glance down at your clipboard, double-checking that you’ve gone through all the necessary questions. With a satisfied nod, you set your pen down and look up at Han, who’s been watching you with an amused glint in his eyes the entire time.

“That’s all for the questions,” you inform him, maintaining your professionalism. “Before we wrap up, do you have any questions about the test?”

Han taps his fingers against the coffee cup, pretending to think. “So, just to be clear, my role in all of this is to… what? Try on the product and report back?”

You nod. “Yes. You’ll test for fit, comfort, durability, and overall performance. You’ll be given a log to record your experience each time you use it, including any issues you encounter.”

His lips twitch. “Experience, huh?”

You put on a small smile as you confirm with a nod. “Yes, experience.”

“And do I test it alone, or is that optional?” He leans in slightly, eyes dancing with mischief.

You keep your expression neutral. “That is entirely up to you.”

Han chuckles. “Noted.” He leans back in his chair, spinning the coffee cup between his fingers. “And how many times do I have to… test it?”

“Over a set period of time,” you explain patiently. “We’ll provide you with enough samples to use regularly and ask you to report back with detailed feedback.”

He hums in thought. “So, let’s say I’m a particularly… diligent tester. Does that mean I get extra credit?”

You narrow your eyes slightly. “There’s no extra credit.”

“No incentives for going above and beyond?” He places a hand over his heart. “I take my responsibilities seriously, you know.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from reacting. “Your only responsibility is to provide accurate feedback.”

He nods sagely. “And I assume you’ll be the one reviewing my… reports?”

“Yes,” you reply, starting to regret that fact.

Han grins. “Well then, I’ll make sure to be very detailed.”

You glance at the clock and decide that’s enough of this. “If you have no further questions, I think we’re done for today.”

Han stretches his arms above his head, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Alright. But don’t be surprised if I come up with more questions later. I like to be thorough.”

Somehow, you already expected that. You clear your throat, pushing aside the unexpected tension his presence brings. Keeping your tone professional, you grab your clipboard and jot down a few notes before looking up at him.

“I’ll need you back here in two days for the next part of the test,” you inform him, maintaining eye contact. “Same time, same place.”

Han tilts his head slightly, his smirk deepening. “Two days, huh?” he muses. “That feels like such a long wait.”

You exhale through your nose, unimpressed but amused. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

He hums, stepping back but not before letting his gaze linger on you for just a second longer than necessary. “Oh, I will. But still…” He takes a few steps toward the door, then turns back with a lazy grin. “Can’t wait to see you again.”

You roll your eyes but say nothing, watching as he finally exits the lab. As soon as he’s gone, you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

Just as Han reaches the door, he glances back at you with that same cocky grin. “I’ll bring coffee for our second date,” he teases, winking before stepping out.

Before you can even process a response, you hear Jane’s voice echo from the hallway. “Second date?”

Your head snaps up just in time to see her walking toward the lab, passing by Han, who gives her a playful nod before disappearing down the hall. Jane stops right in the doorway, her eyes flickering between you and where Han had just been standing.

You quickly shake your head. “It’s not—He’s just—It’s for the test.”

As soon as Han disappears down the hallway, Jane practically materializes at your side, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Who was that?” she asks, tilting her head toward the direction Han had gone.

You hesitate, not wanting to give her more reason to pry, but you know Jane well enough to realize she won’t let this go. “A participant for my product test,” you answer simply, hoping that’s enough to satisfy her.

Jane raises an eyebrow. “Right. And why did he call your next session a ‘second date’?” She crosses her arms, her gaze sharp. “Because that doesn’t sound very… professional.”

You sigh, already regretting not shutting Han down the moment he started with his playful remarks. “He’s just… like that. He’s young, flirty—doesn’t take things too seriously. But he signed up for the test, and he qualifies, so I have to deal with him.”

Jane hums, clearly unconvinced. “And you’re sure he’s here for the test? Not just to hit on you?”

You scoff. “Oh, please. I doubt he went through the entire screening process just for that.”

Jane gives you a knowing look. “Mm-hmm. Well, you better be careful. That guy looks like trouble.”

You shake your head, brushing off her concern. “It’s just work, Jane. Nothing more.”

But as you replay Han’s words in your head—Can’t wait to see you again—you wonder if dealing with him is going to be more challenging than you expected.

-

The elevator doors slide open, and you step in with Jane by your side. She’s already mid-conversation, rambling about her weekend and the never-ending stress over her product’s approval.

“But enough about me,” she says, turning to you as the doors close. “What about you? Where did you go this weekend?”

You keep your expression neutral, pretending to adjust the strap of your bag. “Nowhere special. Just stayed home, watched some movies.”

Jane squints. “That’s it? You didn’t go out? No dates? No fun?”

You shake your head, keeping your tone casual. “Nope. Just a quiet weekend.”

Before you can scramble for a better response, the elevator dings and the doors slide open again.

Chris steps in. He’s dressed sharp as usual and the knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips already tells you he heard the last part of your conversation.

You and Jane greet him, and he gives a polite nod in response before leaning casually against the corner of the elevator, his gaze flickering to you.

Jane faces the mirror walled one side of the elevator, fixing the smudged corner of her red painted lips, “Come on, you did nothing at all on the weekend? Not even a little adventure?”

You force a small laugh. “Nope. Just me, my couch, and Netflix.”

From the corner of your eye, you notice movement. Chris shifts slightly, and you swear you hear a quiet huff—like he’s holding back a laugh.

Jane doesn’t notice him—or if she does, she’s too focused on her interrogation. “Ugh, you’re so boring. At least tell me you had good takeout.”

You nod. “Yeah. Ordered some really... good food.”

Chris’ grin widens, and you glance at him briefly, catching the amused glint in his eyes. He’s enjoying this way too much.

The elevator dings as it reaches your floor, and you practically rush out, eager to escape Jane’s questions and Chris’ silent teasing.

As the doors slide shut behind you, you exhale. You don’t have to turn around to know Chris is still grinning.

-

The morning is slow, the kind that lets your thoughts linger too long on things you shouldn’t be thinking about—like the weekend you spent tangled up with Chris in that hotel suite. It’s been days, but the memories keep creeping back at the worst moments, making your skin heat up and your mind wander.

You shake it off, focusing on your work. You have a second test with Han today, and while his flirty attitude during the interview was something you could handle, you’re bracing yourself for more of his antics. Then, a knock at the door.

You barely have time to look up before Chris steps inside, moving with that easy confidence of his—like he belongs wherever he goes. His suit is crisp, the top button of his shirt undone just enough to look effortless. His hands are in his pockets, his expression unreadable except for the slight smirk tugging at his lips.

"Hard at work, I see," he says, voice smooth as ever.

You blink, caught off guard. "Chris? What are you doing here?"

He shrugs, stepping further in. "Can’t a product manager check in on his researcher?"

You narrow your eyes, already sensing his real reason for coming. "You don’t usually drop by unannounced."

Chris leisurely strolls around the lab, eyes scanning the workbenches. His gaze lands on a few product prototypes you’ve been testing, and suddenly, his lips twitch into a knowing grin.

"You know," he muses, picking up one of the silicone models, turning it over in his hand like he’s inspecting a fine piece of art, "I’m starting to think you have the best job in the company."

You sigh, already regretting letting him in. "Huh?"

"No, seriously," he continues, mock admiration in his voice as he gestures around the room, but his eyes drift towards the shelf full of dildos in all sizes. "I mean, most people deal with boring paperwork, sales reports, or, I don’t know, actual medicine. But you? You come to work every day and play with dildos."

You let out a low scoff. "I need them to test the products."

"For research, yeah, yeah, I got that," he says, nodding dramatically before setting the model down and turning to you with a teasing glint in his eyes. "So, be honest. Got a favorite?"

You shoot him an exasperated look. "Are you done?"

Chris tilts his head, pretending to think. "Not until you answer."

You cross your arms. "If I say yes, are you going to get jealous?"

He clicks his tongue, grinning. "Depends. Is it one of these, or…?" He lets the sentence trail off, his expression smug.

Your jaw drops at his implication, heat rushing to your face. "Oh my God—Chris!" You reach for the nearest pen to throw at him, but he dodges effortlessly, laughing.

"Relax," he says, still chuckling. "I’m just making sure you’re not out here conducting research without me."

"Do you have any actual work-related questions, or are you just here to waste my time?" you snap, trying to regain control of the conversation.

Chris leans against the counter, watching you with amusement. "Bit of both."

Before you can think of a comeback, the door swings open again.

"As promised, I bring coffee for the second date," Han announces, stepping in with a confident grin, two cups in hand. His dark eyes glint playfully as he holds one out to you.

The shift in the air is instant. You feel it immediately—the weight of Chris’s gaze, the ease of Han’s presence, the way you’re suddenly caught between them.

Chris raises an eyebrow, slow and deliberate, before turning to you. "A second date, huh?"

Han, seemingly unbothered, strides right up to you and places the coffee in your hand. "Figured you’d need the energy for today’s test." Then, he glances at Chris, tilting his head. "Oh, hey, man. You her boss or something?"

Chris doesn’t blink. "Or something."

You clear your throat, shifting slightly as you take the coffee Han hands you. “Chris, this is Han Jisung. He’s a participant for the product test.”

Chris’s gaze flicks over to Han, assessing him with a cool, unreadable expression. “Is that so?”

Han, completely unfazed, grins. “Yep. Here to lend a helping hand… or, well, something else.”

You nearly choke on your coffee. Chris, on the other hand, merely exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he looks back at you. “You sure know how to pick them.”

You glare at him, then turn back to Han. “And Han, this is Chris Bang. He’s the product manager overseeing my research.”

Han hums, giving Chris a once-over before offering a lopsided smile. “Nice to meet you, man.”

Chris, still watching him closely, finally nods and shakes his hand. “Likewise.”

There’s a beat of silence, the air thick with an odd mix of curiosity and challenge, and you’re already regretting having them in the same room together.

Han is the first to break it, turning back to you with a bright expression. “So, where are we doing this? Should I start getting undressed, or—?”

Chris chokes on absolutely nothing. You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling sharply through your nose.

“Han,” you say, forcing yourself to keep your voice level, “we are not doing that now.”

“Right, right, interview first. Got it,” Han says, completely unbothered. He pulls out a chair and sits down, legs spread comfortably apart as he takes a sip of his coffee. “I’m all yours, then.”

Chris’s jaw ticks. You don’t miss the way his fingers twitch slightly against the counter.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Chris, do you need anything else?”

Chris finally tears his gaze away from Han, looking at you with a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “No, I think I’ve seen enough.”

He pushes off the counter and straightens his jacket. “I’ll leave you to your… work.”

You purse your lips as he heads for the door. But just before stepping out, he pauses, glancing back over his shoulder. His eyes meet yours, holding them for a moment too long.

Then, with a knowing smirk, he simply says, “Enjoy.”

And with that, he’s gone. You exhale a long air, shoulders sagging.

Han whistles lowly. “Your boss has a real intense vibe, huh?”

You shoot him a look. “Just drink your coffee.”

Han grins. “Yes, ma’am.”

And with that, you steel yourself for what’s to come. Because if that tension was any indication… things are about to get a lot more complicated.

-

You lead Han down the hall to the testing room, the fluorescent lights humming softly overhead. He follows beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, exuding an easy confidence that makes it clear he’s enjoying this just a little too much.

“So, what’s the plan?” Han asks, throwing you a playful glance. “Are we finally getting to the hands-on part?”

You quietly sigh but keep walking. “First, we need to take your measurements.”

He stops in his tracks, then dramatically places a hand over his chest. “Wow. You don’t even take me out to dinner first?”

You sigh, pushing open the door to the testing room and gesturing for him to step inside. “Get in, please.”

The room is sterile and professional, with a small examination table and a set of measurement tools neatly arranged on the counter. You walk over to your clipboard, flipping through the necessary paperwork.

Han looks around, then smirks. “So, what’s next? Do I need to, uh… strip down?”

“Not completely,” you pull a folded medical gown from the drawer and hand it to Han. “Here, put this on,” you instruct. “I’ll step out to give you some privacy.”

Han takes the gown but doesn’t move right away. Instead, he gives you an amused look. “Privacy? Didn’t we just establish that you’ll be seeing all of me anyway?”

You glare at him, crossing your arms. “Just put it on, Han.”

He chuckles but doesn’t argue, and you step outside, closing the door behind you.

You take a deep breath, already bracing yourself for whatever antics he’s going to pull. After waiting a reasonable amount of time, you knock before re-entering. And of course—he’s standing there, completely naked.

Your eyes widen for a split second before you whip your head up to meet his gaze. “Han!”

He grins, making absolutely no effort to cover himself. “What? You said you needed to take measurements, right?”

Your grip tightens around your clipboard. “I also gave you a gown for a reason.”

He shrugs. “Figured we’d just cut to the chase. Efficiency and all that.”

You exhale sharply, willing yourself to stay professional. He really is the type to do things as he pleases so you may as well just do things his way.

"Fine," you mutter. "Let's just get this over with."

Han’s grin stretches wider, clearly pleased that you’re going along with it. “See? Now we’re talking.”

As much as you try to stay professional, it’s impossible not to notice just how well-built Han is. His broad shoulders taper down into a dainty waist, his physique lean yet toned, the kind that suggests he takes care of himself but doesn’t overdo it. His skin is smooth, save for the ink that decorates his body—tattoos etched along his shoulder and ribcage, the dark lines contrasting against his complexion.

You swallow, quickly refocusing on your task, but the thought lingers—he is right to be this confident. He has every reason to be.

Han catches the flicker of your gaze, his smirk deepening. “Like what you see?”

You scoff, refusing to meet his eyes. “I’m just doing my job.”

He hums, clearly enjoying himself. “Sure, sure. But if you ever want to look a little longer, I won’t mind.”

You shake your head, trying to suppress the heat rising to your cheeks. “Just stay still, Han.”

You shift your focus on the task at hand. Professional. You need to stay professional. You put on latex gloves and grab your measuring tape before kneeling slightly to get the proper angles, avoiding looking anywhere unnecessary.

As you begin taking measurements, you comment, “You seem pretty confident about all this.”

Han smirks, raising his arms and folding them behind his head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You put the end of the measuring tape against his pubic bon and gently lift length for a good measurement in its flaccid state. You glance up at him, arching an eyebrow. “Most people would at least be a little nervous. This isn’t exactly an everyday situation.”

He chuckles. “I’m not most people.”

You shake your head, suppressing a laugh. “Clearly.”

Han watches as you put the measuring tape around his cock to measure his girth, his gaze amused and curious. "What about you? You nervous?"

You scoff, keeping your attention on the measurements. "Why would I be?"

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. "Well, you are taking measurements of a very naked, very handsome man."

You snort at that but decide not to answer him, you get up to jot down the numbers on the clipboard. Once you finish, you keep your tone as professional as possible as you inform the next step. "I need to take your measurements when you're fully erect."

Han raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing. "Oh? And how exactly do you suggest I do that?"

You blink at him, already regretting your choice of words. "That's… up to you," you say, quickly looking away.

He tilts his head, watching you with amusement. "You could help me, you know." His voice is playful, but the way he watches for your reaction tells you he's testing boundaries.

You refuse to take the bait, your expression carefully neutral. "There are some, uh, magazines in that drawer if you need them. And you can use the office tablet to… browse whatever helps."

Han’s grin widens as he leans slightly forward. "Oh? Thoughtful setup. Did you pick the selection yourself?"

You roll your eyes, refusing to let him get under your skin. "Just do what you need to do."

Han chuckles, stretching his arms above his head, utterly unbothered by his nakedness. "You sure you don’t want to stay? Might be more efficient with some assistance."

You give him a sharp look before turning toward the door. "I’ll give you a moment."

As you walk out, you hear him laughing behind you. "Just saying... You’re missing out on a great show."

A few minutes pass before the door swings open, and Han leans against the frame, fully exposed, his usual playful smirk in place. And his cock is... well, fully erected.

“So,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “Erect enough for you?”

You scoff in disbelief despite the heat creeping up your neck. He’s obviously enjoying this way too much. Without a word, you grab your measuring tape and step back into the room, motioning for him to stand still.

Han watches you with amusement as you kneel slightly to take the measurements, his confidence completely unshaken. “I gotta say, I’m impressed by your professionalism,” he muses. “Most people would be flustered by now.”

You shoot him a look, jotting down the numbers on your clipboard. “I work in research. This is just another data point to me.”

Han chuckles, low and knowing. “Sure it is.”

You continue with the measurement, doing it all over again and noting down the numbers with practiced professionalism. Han watches you expectantly, his cocky smirk never fading.

“So?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement. “Are you impressed?”

You don’t respond, keeping your eyes on the clipboard as you jot down the details. But deep in your mind, a thought lingers— Chris is still bigger.

You push the thought away immediately. This isn’t about comparisons. This is research. Purely professional.

Clearing your throat, you straighten up. “Alright, we're done with the measurements,” you say, keeping your tone neutral.

Han grins, clearly entertained by your lack of reaction. “Didn’t expect you to be so shy,” he teases as he finally reaches for the gown.

“I’m not shy,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him.

You move on to the next part of the test. You grab a sample from the prototypes you brought with you, tearing the packet open and handing the condom to him.

“Go ahead and put it on,” you instruct, stepping back to give him space.

Han takes the condom with a smirk, rolling it over himself with ease. But as it stretches around his girth, you immediately notice the strain. He shifts slightly, adjusting it with his fingers, and then raises an eyebrow at you. “This one’s a little tight,” he comments, his usual playfulness still present despite the slight discomfort.

You nod, already anticipating this. You grab another packet—this one a size bigger—and hand it to him. “Try this one instead.”

Han takes it and swaps out the first condom, rolling the new one on. His smirk deepens as he glances down at himself. “Ah, now this one fits just right,” he says with satisfaction. He looks up at you with that same teasing glint in his eyes. “You’re really thorough with this, huh?”

You ignore his playful tone, jotting down your notes. “That concludes the test for today,” you say, stepping back. “You can put your clothes back on.”

Han stretches his arms over his head, taking his time before reaching for his clothes. “Gotta say, this was probably the most interesting appointment I’ve ever had,” he muses, giving you a wink.

You exhale sharply, shaking your head as you turn away to give him some privacy. Han Jisung was going to be a handful—you could already tell.

-

Back in your lab, you hand Han a sleek black box with your company’s logo printed on it. “Here,” you say, placing it in front of him. “These are the samples for you to test on your own time.”

Han picks up the box with interest, inspecting it before lifting the lid. Inside, neatly arranged, are multiple packets of condoms. His gaze flickers over them, and then he looks at you with an amused smirk. “You’ve got quite the range here,” he comments. “How many sizes are there?”

You cross your arms. “We only manufacture three: large, extra-large, and extra-extra-large.”

Han’s eyebrows lift. “Damn. So no small or medium?”

“No,” you reply simply. “Our target consumers are people who require larger sizes. We’re focusing on comfort and proper fit.”

Han hums in understanding before his lips quirk up again. “And what size am I?” he asks, voice dripping with curiosity.

You glance at your notes, already knowing the answer. “Based on my calculations, you fall into the extra-large category.”

Han nods approvingly, seemingly pleased. But then, with a mischievous tilt of his head, he asks, “Do you have a participant in the extra-extra-large category?”

Your fingers twitch slightly, but you maintain a composed expression, even as your mind immediately conjures an image of Chris. You refuse to let your face betray your thoughts. “That information is confidential,” you say smoothly, flipping through your notes. “Now, let’s focus on your test.”

Han watches you for a beat, as if trying to read between the lines, but then he lets it go with a shrug. “Alright, boss,” he says playfully. “So what kind of feedback do you need from me?”

You clear your throat and straighten your posture, regaining full professionalism. “You’ll need to test the condoms in various conditions,” you explain. “Comfort, durability, sensation—any issues you experience, I want you to document them in detail.”

Han’s smirk deepens. “In detail, huh?” He leans forward on the table, resting his chin on his hand. “So, if I have any… intense experiences, I need to let you know?”

You meet his gaze with a deadpan look. “Preferably without unnecessary embellishment.”

Han chuckles, sitting back. “Got it. No unnecessary details… unless you want them.”

You exhale sharply, deciding not to dignify that with a response. “Just be thorough,” you say, gathering your papers. “I expect a full report when you’re done.”

Han grins as he picks up the box again. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be very thorough.”

As soon as Han walks out of your lab, a familiar voice pipes up from the doorway.

“Well, well, well,” Jane hums, arms crossed as she leans against the doorframe, watching Han’s retreating figure disappear down the hall. She turns back to you, a knowing smirk stretching across her face. “That was… interesting.”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Don’t start.”

Jane strides in, plopping herself onto a stool across from you. “Oh, I’m definitely starting.” She tilts her head. “So… new participant?”

You glance at the door before nodding. “Yeah. Han Jisung. He’s, uh, testing the product now.”

Jane raises an eyebrow. “Testing the product, huh?” She leans in with a teasing grin. “That’s funny, because from where I was standing, it looked like he was testing you.”

You exhale sharply, shooting her a look. “He’s just flirtatious. That’s how he is.”

Jane clicks her tongue. “Mmm-hmm. And you’re totally unaffected?”

You pause, then shake your head. “I don’t have time for distractions. I need to focus on finalizing the product.”

Jane hums, still grinning. “Sure, sure. But you do realize he was flirting with you, right?”

You sigh. “Obviously.”

“And you were kind of flirting back.”

“I was not.”

Jane laughs. “Please. If that was you being professional, I’d hate to see what happens when you actually flirt with him.”

You rub your temples again. “This conversation is over.”

Jane just smirks. “Fine, fine. But I’ll be keeping an eye on this little situation. Purely for scientific curiosity, of course.”

You roll your eyes, waving her off. “Go do your own research.”

Jane chuckles as she stands. “Oh, don’t worry. I am. But this? This is way more fun to watch.”

As Jane disappears down the hall, her teasing words linger in your mind. You exhale, turning back to your work, but your fingers hesitate over your notes.

Was I really flirting back?

You replay the conversation with Han in your head—his easy confidence, the way he grinned at you, how effortlessly he turned every exchange into something playful. You had brushed it off, keeping your responses neutral, professional… or at least, you thought you had.

But if Jane noticed something—if she thought you were flirting back—did that mean Han thought so too?

You shake your head and mutter to yourself, “I was just doing my job.”

Still, as you force yourself to refocus, a nagging thought creeps in. What if everyone else thinks otherwise?

What if Chris thinks otherwise?

-

The morning feels heavier than usual as you step into the elevator, half-hoping for a quiet ride up. But when you look up, you see Chris standing there, hands tucked into his pockets, his expression calm and collected.

Your stomach tightens. You haven’t really spoken to him since Han walked in on you both in your lab. That moment still lingers in your mind—the way Chris had looked at you, how he had casually gone along with the introduction while Han had stood there, grinning like he knew something you didn’t.

Now, standing beside Chris in the enclosed space, you don’t know whether you should be the first to speak. The silence stretches between you, only filled by the soft hum of the elevator.

Then, Chris breaks it. “Are we still doing it?”

The bluntness of his words makes you stiffen, caught off guard. You glance at him, but his gaze remains on the elevator doors, as if this is just a casual inquiry.

You regain your composure and answer steadily, “As long as you still want to participate, then yes.”

Chris nods, but there’s something contemplative in his expression. “When’s the next test, then?”

“Whenever it’s convenient for you,” you say.

He doesn’t even hesitate before saying, “I have time this weekend.”

You nod, immediately agreeing, though you can’t ignore the way your heartbeat picks up. “Alright. This weekend, then.”

At that, Chris finally turns his head to look at you. There’s something unreadable in his eyes, like he wants to say something else—but then the elevator dings.

The doors slide open to your floor. You take a step forward, stealing a glance back at him. He’s still watching you.

Forcing yourself to keep it professional, you nod. “Have a good day.”

And then you step out, the doors sliding shut behind you, leaving Chris alone in the elevator.

-

You sit at your desk, staring blankly at your laptop screen, but your mind is far from your work. Instead, it’s replaying the interaction you had with Chris in the elevator earlier.

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary—just a simple conversation about the next test. So why are you overanalyzing every second of it?

Maybe it was the way he asked, a little too quickly, as if he was eager. Or maybe it was the way he turned to you, like he had something else to say but didn’t get the chance.

You shake your head, exhaling sharply. Get a grip.

Before you can spiral any further, the lab door bursts open, and Jane comes rushing in.

“We did it!” she exclaims, her voice a mix of excitement and disbelief.

Before you can even react, she throws her arms around you, squeezing you in a tight hug.

“My product got the green light!” she nearly screams, pulling back to grab your shoulders and shake you slightly. “Mass production is happening! This is real!”

Your brain catches up to her words, and a genuine smile spreads across your face. “Jane, that’s amazing! Congratulations!”

“I know, right?” She bounces on her heels, barely able to contain herself. “All those late nights, all that reformulation—it actually paid off!”

“I never doubted it for a second,” you tell her sincerely.

She grins, but then her eyes narrow slightly. “Wait, why do you look so calm? You should be freaking out with me!”

You chuckle. “I think you’re doing enough freaking out for both of us.”

She swats your arm playfully before sighing dramatically. “Ugh, I just—God, I can’t believe it. You’ll be next, you know.”

At that, your smile falters just slightly. The reminder of your own product’s pending status brings back the weight of your own stress. But you push it down, focusing on her excitement instead.

“I hope so,” you say lightly. “But for now, let’s just celebrate your win.”

Jane beams at you, still buzzing with energy. “Oh, we’re celebrating. Drinks after work. No excuses.”

You shake your head, amused. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

-

The bar is lively, filled with laughter and conversation as Jane’s entire research team celebrates their success. You sit at the high-top table, nursing your drink while Jane recounts every stressful moment leading up to her product’s approval.

“I swear, I thought I was going to throw up when I opened the email,” she says, shaking her head dramatically.

“Honestly, I thought you did throw up,” one of her team members chimes in, making the group laugh.

You smile, but your mind isn’t entirely present. You’re still caught up in the events of the day—Chris in the elevator, the way he was looking at you like he had more to say, the way you overanalyzed it all afterward.

And just as if your thoughts summon him, the bar door opens, and in walks Chris.

Your body stiffens slightly at the sight of him. He scans the room, quickly spotting your table, and strides over. His presence is magnetic as always, his sleeves rolled up just enough to tease his forearms, and his signature easy grin already in place.

“Look who decided to join us!” Jane announces, nudging your arm. “I invited him since, you know, he is the product manager.”

You glance at her, noting the sly glint in her eyes. “Just that?” you ask, keeping your voice casual.

Jane feigns innocence. “Of course! What other reason would there be?”

You narrow your eyes at her, but before you can say anything, Chris pulls up a chair next to you, close enough that you catch the faint scent of his cologne.

“Hope I’m not too late,” he says, flagging down the waiter for a drink.

“Nope, we’re just getting started,” Jane assures him, shooting you a quick glance before turning back to her team.

You take a slow sip of your drink, trying to shake off the suspicion creeping up your spine. Because despite Jane’s nonchalant attitude, you can’t help but feel like there’s more to her invitation than just acknowledging Chris’s role as the product manager.

And by the way Chris is sitting comfortably beside you, his knee brushing against yours under the table the whole night, you get the feeling you’re right to be suspicious.

Jane, already a little tipsy, is in full celebration mode. She waves down the waiter and orders another round for everyone, grinning as she slides a fresh drink in front of you.

"Come on," she nudges you. "You have to keep up tonight."

You sigh but take a sip, knowing there's no point in arguing when Jane is in this mood.

The night continues with laughter and drinks, and one by one, the rest of Jane’s team heads to the dance floor, leaving just the three of you at the table. Jane is leaning back in her chair, lazily swirling the ice in her glass as she suddenly turns her attention to Chris.

"So, Product Manager Chris Bang," she drawls, tilting her head at him. "Why have you been calling her to your office so many times lately?"

Chris, mid-sip of his drink, pauses just slightly before setting his glass down. He glances at you briefly, amusement flickering in his eyes before turning back to Jane. "Work, obviously," he says smoothly.

Jane snorts. "Work? Really? You, the Chris Bang, personally following up on a single research project so often? I don’t buy it."

You shoot her a look. "Jane—"

"What? I’m just curious!" she says, throwing up her hands. "If you guys have, I don’t know, a thing going on, you could just tell me."

Chris lets out a soft chuckle, his fingers tapping against his glass. "A thing, huh?"

You glare at Jane, your heart hammering in your chest. She was not supposed to be this perceptive. "You do realize he's our boss, right?" you say, attempting to sound unimpressed.

"Uh-huh," Jane says, clearly unconvinced.

Chris leans back in his seat, casually stretching his arm over the back of your chair. "Sounds like someone's had too many drinks," he teases.

Jane narrows her eyes at him. "Sounds like someone's avoiding the question."

Chris smirks but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he picks up his glass, taking another slow sip.

You grip your drink a little tighter, trying to play it cool, but the way Chris is not denying anything, the way he’s just letting Jane speculate—it’s making you very aware of how close he is to you right now. And by the look in his eyes, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You quickly flag down the waiter again, determined to shift Jane’s attention away from whatever game she’s playing. “Another round?” you offer, plastering on your best innocent smile.

Jane’s eyes light up. “Now that’s the spirit!” She turns to Chris. “You better not let her drink alone.”

Chris chuckles, shaking his head as he lifts his glass. “I wouldn’t dare.”

It works. Jane gets caught up in the drinks and the celebration again, and for a while, the conversation drifts away from you and Chris.

Next thing you know, Jane is dragging you onto the dance floor. You’re buzzed, your body light, and for once, you let yourself just have fun. The music thrums through your veins, and you move with the crowd, letting the beat take over.

At some point, as you spin around, your eyes catch onto something—or rather, someone.

Chris is still seated at the table, leaning back comfortably with his drink in hand, but his eyes are on you. Watching. And when your gazes meet, he doesn’t look away.

A thrill runs through you. The alcohol in your system makes you bolder, more aware of the way his gaze lingers. You pretend not to notice at first, dancing as if he isn’t there, but deep down, you know you’re moving just a little more deliberately. A little more enticingly. And you like that he’s watching.

The moment stretches between you like a live wire, crackling with energy neither of you dares to name. And as if he can't stand being a mere watcher, Chris walks up to you. He steps in closer, pushed forward by the press of bodies around you, and instead of pulling away, he stays. The heat of his body radiates against yours, your breaths mingling in the dim, neon-lit haze of the bar.

You don’t speak, and neither does he—not at first. Instead, there’s only the exchange of glances, the slow drag of his eyes over you, the way your body naturally falls in sync with his. It’s almost too easy, too natural, the way he places a careful hand on your waist, guiding your movements subtly like he’s testing the waters.

And then, he leans in. His lips brush the shell of your ear, his voice low and rough. “I can’t wait for the weekend.”

The words send a pulse of heat through you. You smirk, just enough to make sure he sees it before you tilt your head toward him, lips grazing the edge of his jaw as you murmur back, “Why wait until the weekend?”

You feel his sharp inhale more than you hear it. His grip on your waist tightens, a reaction he doesn’t even try to hide.

“Why not do it tonight?” you continue, letting the words drip slow and deliberate between you.

Chris pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression unreadable at first—surprised, maybe, but something darker flickers beneath it. Something intrigued. He doesn’t answer right away. But he doesn’t say no, either.

The moment the words leave your lips, there’s no taking them back. You don’t give Chris time to react before you’re tugging him through the press of bodies, weaving past dancing figures and clusters of coworkers lost in conversation. You make a beeline for your table, snatching up your bag in one smooth motion, and beside it, Chris’s neatly folded jacket. He barely has time to slip it from your grasp before you’re leading him out of the bar and into the cool night air.

Chris follows without protest, though his brows are still knit in confusion, his lips slightly parted like he’s trying to piece together what just happened.

But instead of heading straight for the curb, he gently tugs at your wrist, steering you into the narrow alley beside the bar. The dim glow of a flickering streetlamp barely reaches the space, but it’s enough for you to see the way he’s watching you—like he’s trying to read between the lines, trying to make sure.

“You really want to do this tonight?” His voice is quiet but firm, searching.

You don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Chris exhales, rubbing the back of his neck as he studies you. “You’ve been drinking.”

“I’m not drunk,” you counter smoothly. “Just… mildly intoxicated.”

His brow lifts at that, still unconvinced. You step closer, meeting his gaze, letting your voice drop to something softer, something more deliberate. “You told me to relax, didn’t you?”

A muscle in his jaw ticks but you press on, your fingers brushing the lapels of his jacket. “Maybe now that I’m fully relaxed…” Your lips curl slightly as your voice dips lower. “I can take you well this time.”

For a moment, there’s only the hum of the city around you—the distant pulse of music from the bar, the faint rush of passing cars. Then his eyes darken, a spark of something untamed flickering through them. He doesn’t say a word.

Instead, his hands find your waist in one swift motion, pulling you flush against him. And before you can tease him for his sudden silence, he spins toward the street, lifting an arm to hail a taxi, his grip on you firm and unwavering.

-

As soon as the two of you are on the backseat of a taxi, Chris wastes no time draping his jacket over your lap. A gentlemanly gesture, if not for the sly curve of his lips and the glint in his eyes when he turns to you.

“Wouldn’t want you catching a cold,” he murmurs, voice smooth, deliberate.

You barely have a second to process the weight of his words before you feel it—his hand slipping beneath the fabric, fingers gliding under the hem of your skirt with ease. The moment his palm presses against your clothed heat, a sharp jolt runs through you.

Chris watches you, eyes trained on your face, amusement dancing in his expression as you press your lips together in a feeble attempt to stay composed. The driver hums along to the low music playing on the radio, oblivious to the way Chris’s fingers trace teasing circles over the dampening fabric between your thighs.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he muses, voice barely above a whisper, meant just for you.

You shoot him a sharp look, but it’s hard to glare when your body betrays you, hips subtly shifting toward his touch.

Chris’s smile deepens. “You seemed so eager back at the bar. What happened?”

You grip his wrist under the jacket, not pushing him away, but just holding on—something to ground yourself as his fingers apply more pressure right on your clothed clit. The sensation is maddening, just enough to tease but not nearly enough to satisfy.

The taxi slows at a red light, and Chris leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Don’t make me stop now.”

It’s a warning and a challenge all at once. You squeeze Chris’s wrist, nails digging into his skin, but he doesn’t stop—if anything, the pressure of his fingers against your clothed heat intensifies.

"Shh," he whispers, lips grazing your ear. "Don't get us caught."

Easier said than done. Your thighs clamp around his hand instinctively, but Chris simply chuckles, using the limited space to his advantage, his fingers stroking lazy, torturous circles over the damp fabric.

Your breathing stutters. Every little movement feels like fire licking at your skin, and the worst part? The driver is completely unaware.

Chris shifts closer, his voice dipping lower, a teasing lilt in his tone. "You were the one who didn’t want to wait until the weekend," he murmurs. "But now you're struggling to keep quiet? What happened to all that confidence?"

You want to glare at him, maybe throw back a snarky remark, but when he presses a little harder—just enough to send a jolt of pleasure up your spine—you have to bite down on your lip to stop the sound threatening to escape.

Chris watches you, completely enthralled, eyes dark with amusement and something deeper—something possessive. His free hand brushes your cheek before he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a gesture so tender it contrasts the sinful way his fingers are working you under the jacket.

"You’re trembling," he notes, and there's that damn smirk again.

The taxi slows, and your heart nearly stops as the driver glances at you both through the rearview mirror.

Chris finally—finally—pulls his hand away, taking his time smoothing down your skirt as if nothing had happened at all. Then he leans in one last time, lips a breath away from your ear as he whispers, "Hope you're ready for what's next."

-

The moment the hotel room door clicks shut behind you, the air shifts. Gone is the restraint from earlier, the teasing and subtle touches—now, it's thick with something heavier, more urgent.

Chris tosses his jacket onto a nearby chair before turning to face you. His gaze sweeps over your form, eyes dark, filled with an unspoken hunger that sends a shiver down your spine.

"You sure about this?" he asks, voice quieter now, less playful, but no less intense.

You step forward, closing the space between you. "I was the one who said not to wait," you remind him, your hands already reaching for the buttons of his shirt.

Chris exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head, but he doesn’t stop you. Instead, he lets his hands settle on your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress as if grounding himself. "You really don’t like being patient, do you?"

You let his question linger in the air, unanswered but your fingers make quick work of his buttons, parting his shirt to reveal the toned muscles beneath. He lets you take your time, watching you with hooded eyes, but the moment your hands graze over his bare skin, his control seems to snap.

In one swift motion, Chris grabs your wrist, spinning you around so your back is pressed against the door. His body is warm against yours, caging you in, his breath fanning across your face as he leans in.

"You have no idea what you just started," he murmurs before claiming your lips in a deep, searing kiss.

With his muscular arms wrapped around you, he can easily steer your body, dragging you with him toward the bed until he plops down on the end of the bed.

You settle onto Chris’s lap, your back flush against his chest as his arms wrap around you, holding you close. The warmth of his body seeps into yours, his breath fanning against the curve of your neck.

His lips find your skin, slow and deliberate, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder, trailing up to the sensitive spot just below your ear. A shiver rolls through you, and he must feel it because he chuckles, low and pleased.

"You always get like this when I touch you," he murmurs, his fingers finding the first button of your shirt.

You don't answer, just let him work, feeling each flick of his fingers as he undoes one button, then another, until the fabric parts. His hands slide beneath the material, palms warm against your bare skin, tracing along your sides before gliding up to your shoulders, easing the shirt off.

It slips down your arms and onto the bed, forgotten. Chris hums in approval, his hands wandering, exploring—one skimming down your thigh, the other greedily palming on your breast, holding you in place as he continues his slow, torturous kisses.

"You’re always so tense," he muses, his lips brushing your ear. "I think I like you better like this… relaxed, pliant."

His hands roam, touching everywhere except where you crave him most, teasing, testing your patience. You shift slightly in his lap, pressing closer, and his grip tightens just enough to remind you—he’s in control of the pace and he's going to take his time.

Chris lets his fingers wander lower, tracing the edge of your skirt where it rests against your thighs. His touch is slow and gentle, but there’s a tension in the way he exhales against your neck, like he’s barely holding himself back.

“You won’t be needing this,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping under the hem.

You lift your hips just enough to let him slide the fabric down, and he takes his time, inch by inch, until it pools at your feet. The cool air kisses your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his hands as they skim over your bare thighs, tracing soft patterns, teasing.

He shifts beneath you, pulling you even closer against his growing bulge, and you feel the unmistakable proof of his arousal pressing into you through his pants. The realization sends a shiver through you, one that he catches instantly.

“Still relaxed?” he teases, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

You don’t get a chance to answer before his fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear. He doesn’t rush—he takes his time, dragging the fabric down slowly, his knuckles grazing your skin as he goes. The anticipation coils low in your stomach, your breath catching as you finally feel the cool air against your bare skin.

Chris lets out a quiet groan, his hands splaying over your hips as he pulls you even closer, his lips finding the curve of your neck again. “Perfect,” he whispers against your skin, his voice laced with something deeper, something reverent.

His hands roam, exploring, teasing, while his lips trail soft, lingering kisses down your shoulder, across your spine. Every touch, every whisper, sends warmth flooding through you, leaving you bare in every possible way.

Chris chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as you grab his hand and guide it between your thighs. His fingers brush against your heat, and he inhales sharply, his grip tightening on your waist.

"Impatient, mmh?" he murmurs, his voice laced with amusement, though his fingers don’t move just yet. Instead, he lets them rest there, just enough pressure to tease but not enough to satisfy.

You shift slightly in his lap, pressing yourself against his hand, silently urging him to do something—anything—but he only smirks against your shoulder. "I like it when you ask nicely," he muses, his breath warm against your skin.

Your fingers tighten around his wrist, your body aching for more, but before you can say a word, he finally moves. A slow, deliberate stroke on your clit. Your breath catches, and he hums in approval, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear.

"That's better," he whispers, his fingers working you open with a practiced ease, pumping in and out of you.

Each movement is agonizingly slow, dragging out every sensation, as if he wants to take his time, to savor the way you react under his touch. His free hand grips your hip, keeping you steady as you try to press yourself closer, seeking more.

Chris chuckles again, his fingers curling slightly, finding that spot that makes you tremble. "That’s it," he coaxes, his voice low and dripping with satisfaction. "Let me feel you."

And as his touch grows more insistent, as his lips trail down your neck, whispering praises into your skin, you realize just how much control he has over you in this moment—and how easily you’re willing to let him have it.

He shifts, his hands firm yet gentle as he lays you down against the plush hotel bed. The warmth of his body lingers on your skin, and for a moment, you almost forget yourself in the haze of anticipation.

But before you can get lost in it completely, you murmur, "The condom… it's in my bag."

Chris hovers over you, his lips curving into a small smile before pressing a lingering kiss to your mouth. "Good thinking," he muses, his voice low, thick with desire. He pulls away, stepping back to retrieve the condom.

As he stands at the end of the bed, the warm glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows across his toned frame, you take a moment to admire him. His body—broad shoulders, sculpted abs, muscles flexing with each subtle movement—holds a raw, effortless allure.

Gosh, Chris is beautiful.

His brows furrow slightly in focus as he tears open the packet, rolling the condom down his length with practiced ease. The sight alone sends another wave of arousal through you, heat pooling deep in your stomach.

Chris catches you staring, his lips quirking into a smirk. "Like what you see?" he teases, his voice playful, but there’s a flicker of something darker in his gaze—something knowing.

You don’t answer, but the way you bite your lip gives you away.

Chris lets out a quiet chuckle, his eyes never leaving yours as he climbs back onto the bed, settling between your legs. "Let’s put it to the test, then," he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your lips before capturing them in another slow, searing kiss.

He kisses you deeply, his hands roaming over your bare skin as the two of you melt into the mattress. The heat between you is palpable, the slow press of his body against yours making every inch of you burn with anticipation. His lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, down the column of your throat, each kiss setting your nerves alight.

Then, he pulls back just enough to guide you onto your stomach before gently urging you onto your hands and knees. His touch is steady, reassuring.

"It’ll be easier this way," he murmurs against your shoulder, pressing soft kisses along your spine. "You won’t have to think too much. Just feel."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you nod, swallowing back the nervous tension that had been lingering before. The warmth of his mouth trails down your back, each kiss making you more pliant, more eager.

Then, without another word, Chris aligns himself behind you, his hands gripping your waist as he slowly pushes his length inside you.

Chris grips your waist with steady hands, his thumbs tracing soothing circles against your skin as he slowly pushes inside. The stretch is intense, and he catches the way your fingers grip the sheets, your breath hitching.

"Does it hurt?" he murmurs, his voice low and careful.

You swallow hard, your body adjusting to his size. "Just… put in more," you whisper, wanting to get past the ache, wanting to feel all of him.

Chris exhales through his nose, his grip tightening slightly before he pushes in deeper, inch by inch, with the utmost caution. You bite your lip, willing yourself to relax, but the deeper he goes, the more overwhelmed you feel. Your body tenses.

"Wait—stop," you gasp suddenly. "That's too deep."

Chris halts immediately, his hands sliding up to your hips, grounding you. You take a shaky breath before glancing over your shoulder. "Are you all in?"

Chris tilts his head down to see his cock is only halfway in, amusement flashing in his dark eyes. "Not even close," he says, lips quirking into a smirk.

Your eyes widen in disbelief, and a groan escapes you. "Fuck Chris! Why you have to be too big?" you mutter, frustration laced in your voice.

Chris chuckles, his hands smoothing over your skin in reassurance. "You’re cute when you’re like this," he teases, leaning over you. His breath fans against your cheek before he captures your lips in a deep, slow kiss, melting away your tension with each lingering touch.

He watches your expression closely, searching for any signs of discomfort, but when he sees the pleasure beginning to overtake the tension in your body, he pulls hid cock back slightly before thrusting into you again—deeper this time, but still careful.

A gasp leaves your lips, your body adjusting, the overwhelming stretch melting into something more intoxicating. The feeling of him inside you, filling you, sends waves of pleasure rippling through you. You grip the sheets beneath you, eyes fluttering shut as he finds a steady rhythm, each movement dragging bliss across your nerves.

Then it hits you—faster than you expected. Your body clenches around him, a moan slipping out as pleasure crashes through you. Chris immediately senses the shift, his hands gripping your waist tighter as he slows.

"Are you coming?" he asks, voice husky, his breath warm against your shoulder.

You nod, still trembling, your fingers twisting in the sheets.

"Do you want me to stop?" His voice is softer now, tinged with concern, but you shake your head frantically.

"No—" You exhale shakily. "It’s too good. Don’t stop."

Chris groans at your words, his hands sliding up your sides before pulling you back against him. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, murmuring something too quiet to catch before he picks up his pace again.

This time, there’s no hesitation—only the raw need between you as your bodies move in sync. The pleasure builds steadily, the tension coiling deep within you as Chris thrusts into you, each movement drawing you closer, each moan swallowed into his heated kisses.

And then, all at once, you fall apart around him, pleasure surging through you as your body tightens and trembles against him. Chris follows soon after, a deep groan spilling from his lips as he reaches his own high, his arms locking around you as you both shudder through the overwhelming release.

For a moment, neither of you move, only the sound of heavy breathing filling the space. Then Chris presses a lingering kiss against the back of your neck, his grip on you loosening but still firm, as if he’s reluctant to let you go.

Chris slowly pulls out, his touch gentle as if he knows you’re still sensitive. A shiver runs through you at the loss of him, and you collapse onto the bed, catching your breath as you watch him.

Standing at the edge of the bed, Chris carefully rolls the condom off, inspecting it for a moment before tying it off and discarding it. It’s hard not to notice the way it’s stretched, the amount of his seed inside it making your stomach flip. He doesn’t say anything, just walks toward the bathroom, his bare form disappearing inside as you lay there, trying to process everything.

The distant sound of running water fills the room, and as your heartbeat slows, a strange clarity settles over you. You feel yourself sobering up—not enough to regret anything, but enough to realize the weight of the moment.

When Chris returns, wiping his hands dry with a small towel, he catches your gaze and smirks. “You look like you’re thinking too hard.”

You shake your head, pushing yourself up slightly. “I was just going to ask…” You hesitate, but then decide to just say it. “What do you think of the condom’s performance?”

For a second, Chris just stares at you—then he chuckles, running a hand through his messy hair. “Of course you’d get right back to work.” He exhales through his nose, his smirk softening as he joins you on the bed. “Well, it held up. No breakage, no slipping, even after how intense that was.” He gives you a pointed look, making heat creep up your neck.

You clear your throat. “That’s good.”

Chris hums, leaning back against the pillows. “Though I think you might need to test it a few more times before you finalize your product. Just to be sure.”

You roll your eyes, but the small smile on your lips betrays you. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Chris lets out a small sigh, stretching his arms before settling more comfortably against the pillows. “Since we both have work tomorrow, maybe we should stop talking about work and just get some rest.”

You nod, realizing how heavy your limbs feel now that the rush of everything has passed. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

There’s a brief silence, just the sound of your breathing filling the dimly lit room. Then, Chris shifts slightly beside you. “Hey…” His voice is softer now, almost hesitant. “Is it okay if I cuddle you?”

Your breath catches slightly at the unexpected question. Of all things, you weren’t expecting him to ask that. But before you can even think about it, you find yourself nodding.

Chris doesn’t hesitate once he gets the answer he wants. He moves in closer, his warm, bare body pressing against your back as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into him. The heat of his skin is comforting, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back oddly soothing.

You let out a quiet breath, melting into the warmth of him. His hand rests lightly against your stomach, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles there. Neither of you say anything, and you don’t need to. Slowly but surely, you feel your body relaxing, your eyelids growing heavy.

As you settle into his warmth, your body fully relaxing against his, you feel Chris nuzzle slightly into the crook of your neck. His breath is steady, slow, comforting.

Just as your eyelids start to droop, you murmur, “Goodnight, Chris.”

His arm around your waist tightens just a little, and you hear the faintest hint of a smile in his voice as he whispers back, “Goodnight.”

The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the quiet comfort between you lull you into sleep, tangled together in a way that feels dangerously natural.

-

The pale morning sun casts a warm glow on Chris’s pale skin as he fixes the cuffs of his shirt beside you. The atmosphere is surprisingly comfortable despite everything that happened last night—though the occasional brush of his hand against yours or the way his gaze lingers on you a second too long reminds you of just how close you had been mere hours ago.

As you slip on your shoes, you break the silence. “If Jane asks about us, just say I got too drunk, and you took me home. Keep it simple.”

Chris pauses, smirking as he tilts his head at you. “That’s the best excuse you could come up with?”

You huff, crossing your arms. “It’s believable, isn’t it? Besides, you know how Jane gets.”

Chris chuckles, rolling up his sleeves as he steps closer. “Oh, I do. Which is why I think she won’t buy it for a second.”

You shoot him a pointed look. “Chris.”

“Relax,” he grins, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I won’t say a word. Especially not to Jane.”

Satisfied, you exhale a small breath of relief, though his amusement at your paranoia doesn’t go unnoticed. As you both gather your belongings, preparing to leave the hotel, a thought lingers in the back of your mind—one that you refuse to entertain for too long. Because despite your best efforts to keep things professional, something between you and Chris has undeniably shifted.

-

You step into the office, keeping your head low as you make your way toward your lab, hoping to slip in unnoticed. But of course, Jane is already there, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, looking equally exhausted.

“You’re late,” she grumbles, squinting at you.

You let out a dramatic sigh. “I know. I feel like death.” You press a hand to your forehead for extra effect. “I’m seriously so hungover.”

Jane groans, rubbing her temples. “Tell me about it. I shouldn’t have ordered that last round.”

You nod quickly, going along with it. “Yeah, I think that’s what did me in too.”

Jane tilts her head, her suspicious gaze scanning you. “Wait… where did you even go after that? You disappeared.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you manage to keep your face neutral. “I got too drunk, and Chris helped me get home.”

Jane narrows her eyes. “Huh?”

You swallow, keeping your expression casual. “Yeah, he was just being nice. You know, since he’s my boss and all.”

For a moment, Jane doesn’t say anything, her eyes assessing you like she’s trying to catch you in a lie. But before she can press further, someone from her team calls her name from down the hall.

Jane groans, rubbing her face. “Ugh, I have a meeting with the production team. Can't believe they make me sit through this with a headache.”

You nod, putting on your best sympathetic look. “Good luck with that.”

She sighs and starts walking away, but not before casting one last glance at you. “This conversation isn’t over.”

You force a laugh as you watch her go, exhaling in relief once she’s out of sight. You got off the hook—for now.

You put on your lab coat first before starting any work. You grab your notebook from your bag and flipping through it when a familiar voice calls out from the doorway.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

You glance up to see Han leaning casually against the doorframe, holding two cups of coffee in one hand and a small white box in the other. His usual flirtatious grin is in place, his eyes glinting with mischief as he steps inside.

You exhale and put on a polite smile, already bracing yourself. “Good morning.”

He strides over and places the coffee and the box on your desk before pulling out a chair for himself. “I figured coffee alone wasn’t enough, so I brought cheesecake. Thought I’d spoil my favorite researcher a little.”

You raise a brow. “Bribing me now?”

He smirks. “If it works, then yeah.”

You sigh but can’t help the small smile forming on your lips as you open the box, revealing a neatly sliced cheesecake with a drizzle of caramel on top. It looks dangerously good.

“Alright,” you say, picking up one of the coffee cups. “I’ll accept it. But only because I skimped on breakfast.”

Han chuckles, watching as you take a small forkful of the dessert. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You shake your head at his antics before setting your fork down and flipping open your notes. “Let’s get to business.”

Han places a hand over his chest in mock offense. “You mean we’re not on a date?”

You snort and skip on answering him. “Now, let’s continue the interview.”

His grin widens, but he sits back, sipping his coffee. “Alright, boss. Fire away.”

You take a sip of a coffee first while getting the questions ready and pull out your notes. “Alright, let’s get into it. How’s the product testing going?”

Han hums, stirring his coffee lazily. “Not bad. Feels good, fits well. No complaints so far.”

You nod, jotting that down. “And how many have you used?”

Han pauses mid-sip, then lowers his cup with a smirk. “Why? Are you keeping score?”

You sigh. “Just answer the question, Han.”

He shrugs. “Out of the eight packs you gave me? I’ve only used two.”

Your pen stills on the paper. “Two? That’s it?”

Han leans forward slightly, his smirk deepening. “Yeah. I’m saving some.”

You frown. “Why?”

His eyes gleam with mischief. “For you, obviously.”

Your brain short-circuits for a moment before you let out an exasperated sigh. “Han—”

“I mean, it’d be unfair if I was the only one testing it, right?” he says smoothly, resting his chin on his hand as he watches you with amusement. “Wouldn’t you want firsthand experience?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “This is a professional study.”

He chuckles. “Sure, sure. But the offer stands.”

You shake your head, refusing to indulge him any further. “Moving on. Did you experience any discomfort?”

Han grins. “None at all. Though I wouldn’t mind testing the durability a bit more.”

You glare at him. “Stick to the questionnaire.”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave. For now.”

You sigh, writing down his responses, pretending that your face isn’t heating up from his teasing. Despite it, you manage to finish all the questions you have for him. You glance at your notes, ensuring you’ve covered everything.

“Alright, I think that’s all for today,” you say, capping your pen. “I’ll see you next week for the final interview.”

Han leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, lips curving into a smirk. “That’s it?”

You raise a brow and put on a small smile. “That’s it.”

He lets out a dramatic sigh. “Come on, we can’t end our third date like this.”

You roll your eyes as you remark once again. “It’s not a date.”

He tilts his head, feigning innocence. “I brought you coffee and cheesecake, didn’t I?”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can, the lab door swings open, and Jane strides in. She stops abruptly, her eyes darting between you and Han, taking in the way he’s leaning in just a little too close, the amused glint in his eyes, and the way you’re trying very hard not to look flustered.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asks, crossing her arms.

You straighten up instantly. “Nope. Just finishing up his interview.”

Han, completely unbothered, flashes her a charming smile. “Oh, hey. You must be Jane.”

Jane narrows her eyes at him before shifting her gaze back to you, suspicion evident. “So… what exactly were you two talking about?”

Han grins. “Just planning our next date.”

You groan. “Han.”

Jane’s eyes widen in intrigue, a slow smirk forming on her lips. “Oh? Is that so?”

You shoot Han a warning look, but he just winks at you before standing up and grabbing his coffee. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it,” he says smoothly. “See you next week.”

Jane doesn’t let Han’s exit stop her. Instead, she steps further into the lab and plops down in the chair across from you. “So,” she drawls, “third date, huh?”

You rub your temples. “Don’t encourage him.”

But Jane ignores you, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she turns toward the door Han just walked through. “Hey, Han!” she calls out.

He peeks his head back in, coffee in hand, looking amused. “Miss me already?”

Jane smirks and reaches into her bag, pulling out a sleek black invitation. “Why don't you come to the launch party for my product this Friday night? It’s going to be fancy, lots of people from the company, free drinks. Since you’re so keen on taking my friend on dates, why don’t you make this your fourth?”

Han raises a brow, glancing at you. “A formal date, huh?” He grins, looking back at Jane. “I like the way you think.”

You sigh, knowing there’s no way out of this now.

Han walks over and takes the invitation from Jane’s hand, flicking it between his fingers as he gives you a look filled with playful intent. “Guess it’s true what they say,” he muses. “Love finds a way.”

You groan. Jane cackles. And Han? Han just winks before strolling out of the lab, leaving you to wonder how exactly you ended up in this mess.

-

Friday night arrives, and the venue is buzzing with energy. The event hall is decorated with elegant lights, the clinking of glasses and soft hum of music filling the air. The launch party is in full swing, employees mingling with industry professionals, celebrating her achievement. You arrive dressed appropriately for the occasion, nursing a glass of champagne as you navigate through conversations.

As soon as you spot Jane across the room, you make your way through the crowd, champagne flute in hand. She’s in the middle of a conversation with a few colleagues, but when she sees you, her face lights up with excitement.

“There she is!” Jane exclaims, excusing herself from the group to pull you into a quick but tight hug. “You made it!”

You laugh at her enthusiasm. “Of course, I did! There was no way I’d miss your big night.”

Jane pulls back, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Can you believe it? After all the late nights, the revisions, the stress—it’s finally happening. The product is officially launched!”

You smile, genuinely happy for her. “And you deserve every bit of this. You worked your ass off for this moment.”

She lets out a dramatic sigh, pressing a hand to her chest. “I really did, didn’t I? God, I need more champagne.”

You chuckle and clink your glass against hers. “To your hard work paying off.”

Jane grins. “To both of us. Your product is next, you know.”

You shake your head, sipping your drink. “One step at a time.”

“Psh, please,” Jane scoffs. “You’re basically a genius in your field. It’s only a matter of time.”

Before you can argue, she suddenly gasps and grabs your arm. “Wait, wait—look who just walked in.”

You follow her gaze toward the entrance, and sure enough, Han is making his way through the crowd, dressed in a fitted suit that makes him look a little too good for your liking.

Jane smirks. “Guess you really did get yourself a date tonight.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no denying the way Han’s eyes find yours almost instantly, his lips curling into that all-too-familiar smirk.

Jane elbows you playfully. “I’ll leave you to it,” she teases before slipping back into the crowd, leaving you standing there as Han approaches.

Dressed in a well-fitted suit that makes him look effortlessly charming, he scans the room until his eyes land on you. A slow, knowing grin stretches across his lips as he approaches, hands in his pockets, confidence dripping from every step.

“Well, well,” Han drawls as he stops beside you. “You clean up nicely, professor.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no denying the way he looks—like trouble wrapped in an expensive suit.

“How’s the party?” he asks, leaning in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You take a sip of your champagne. “Just started. Jane’s thrilled.”

Han hums, glancing around before tilting his head at you. “And you? Having fun?”

Before you can answer, Jane appears out of nowhere, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and grinning between the two of you. “Oh, I knew you’d show up, Han.”

Han chuckles. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

You awkwardly wave toward the bar and ask, “Drinks?”

Han smirks and leans in just slightly, voice teasing. “Lead the way.”

You and Han sit at the bar, drinks in hand, the ambient chatter of the event fading into the background as he leans in slightly, that ever-present smirk tugging at his lips.

“So,” he starts, swirling his drink in his glass, “are product launches always this fancy, or is this just Jane’s excuse to throw a party?”

You chuckle, taking a sip of your champagne. “A little bit of both. But mostly, Jane loves a reason to celebrate.”

Han hums, resting his chin on his palm as he watches you. “And you? Do you like to celebrate?”

You quirk a brow. “Are you asking if I party?”

He shrugs, feigning innocence. “I’m just wondering if I’ll ever get to see you let loose. I bet you’d be fun after a few more drinks.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “This isn’t that kind of party.”

He grins. “Pity.” Then he lifts his glass toward you. “Still, I think this counts as a fourth date, don’t you?”

You roll your eyes but clink your glass against his anyway. “You’re really committed to this bit, huh?”

“I prefer to call it optimism,” he says smoothly, eyes glinting with mischief. “But if you want me to stop, you just have to say the word.”

You don’t say anything, and that only makes his smirk widen. Just as you’re about to respond, something—or rather, someone—catches your eye.

Across the room, standing near the entrance with a drink in hand, is Chris. He’s watching you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something in the way he’s standing, the slight tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flick from you to Han and back again.

For a brief moment, your heart stumbles in your chest. You take a slow sip of your drink, trying to shake the strange weight in your chest. It’s just Chris. It shouldn’t mean anything. And yet, you can’t help but steal another glance in his direction.

Han is still talking, still flashing that charming smile, completely unaware of the way your attention has drifted elsewhere.

“—so, I figured, if I’m already here, might as well make it worth my time, right?” He sets down his drink as he notices something on your face, "Can I just—"

Before you can even process it, his fingers are grazing your face, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. It’s a fleeting touch, gentle, but deliberate. His gaze lingers on yours, dark eyes full of something playful yet unreadable.

"There," Han mutters with a satisfed smile as he securely tucked it behind your ear.

You don’t have time to react—not properly—because just over Han’s shoulder, you see Chris. He’s moving now, weaving through the crowd, his expression as unreadable as before. There’s a certainty in his stride, a quiet intensity that makes your pulse quicken.

You know he’s coming straight for you. Panic flutters in your chest before you can stop it. “I need to use the restroom,” you blurt out, pushing back from your seat.

Han blinks in surprise, his hand falling away as you stand abruptly. “Oh? Uh—”

You don’t let him finish, flashing him a quick, apologetic smile before turning on your heel. You don’t look back.

Inside the restroom, you grip the edge of the sink, taking a steadying breath. The cool marble soothes your fingertips, but it does nothing to calm the rapid thud of your heartbeat. You left in such a rush. Why did you run?

Before you can even begin to sort through your own emotions, the door swings open. You tense, your eyes darting to the mirror—only to exhale in relief when you see Jane stepping in.

“Oh,” she says, her brows lifting slightly. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You force a chuckle, shaking your head. “You didn’t. Just… needed a moment.”

Jane leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with a knowing expression. “A moment away from Han?” she teases, tilting her head. “But you two looked pretty cozy out there.”

You feel your face warm. “It’s just conversation.”

“Uh-huh.” She hums, unconvinced. “Well, from where I was standing, it looked like he was about to kiss you.”

You sputter. “He was not—”

Jane waves a hand, cutting you off. “I’m just saying, I see the way he looks at you. And honestly?” She grins. “I don’t blame him.”

You try to roll your eyes, but it comes out weaker than intended.

Jane studies you for a beat longer, her expression softening. “But… that’s not why you ran, is it?”

You freeze for half a second too long.

Jane catches it immediately. Her grin fades, replaced by curiosity. “You got real nervous all of a sudden. Something—or someone—got you spooked?”

You swallow, forcing yourself to maintain a neutral expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jane narrows her eyes. “Uh-huh. You sure about that?”

You nod, maybe a little too quickly. Jane doesn’t press further. Not yet. But you know her well enough to realize she won’t drop it that easily.

Jane eyes you for another long moment before sighing and reaching into her small clutch. You watch as she rummages through it, her fingers brushing past a few cosmetic items before finally pulling out a small blister pack. She pops a single pill into her palm and hands it to you, then produces a half-full bottle of water like she knew this moment was coming.

“Here,” she says, offering both to you.

You hesitate, looking down at the pill in your hand. “What is it?”

Jane smirks, shaking the water bottle slightly to get you to take it. “Something to help you relax.”

You squint at her. “That’s not an answer.”

She laughs. “It’s nothing illegal, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just take it.”

You glance at the pill again. It’s small, pale pink. Harmless-looking. But then again, so are most things before they kick in. You look up at Jane, searching her face. “Is this how you handle your nerves?”

She grins. “No, I handle my nerves with tequila, but I figured you’d want something that won’t have you slurring your words in front of the hot-guy-with-extra-large-dick Han.”

You sigh, rolling the pill between your fingers. Maybe she’s right. Maybe you do need something to take the edge off. Your mind has been spiraling ever since you saw Chris watching you from across the room. Before you can second-guess yourself, you pop the pill into your mouth and take a sip of water, swallowing it down.

Jane watches you with a pleased expression. “Atta girl.”

You shoot her a wary look. “If I pass out in the middle of the party, I’m blaming you.”

She snickers. “Relax. It’s mild.” She leans in slightly. “Though, if I were you, I wouldn’t fight the feeling when it kicks in. Just let go and enjoy the night.”

You shake your head, but a small smile tugs at your lips. “You’re a bad influence, you know that?”

Jane winks and wickedly smile as she says, “I'm your only friend. You can't get rid of me.”

She gives you one last knowing smile before tucking her clutch under her arm. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it,” she says. “Just… breathe, okay?”

You nod, watching as she turns on her heel and exits the restroom, her heels clicking against the tile floor. Once she’s gone, you exhale slowly, leaning against the sink. The pill hasn’t kicked in yet, but you tell yourself that you’re already starting to feel lighter—whether it’s real or just in your head, you don’t know.

A minute passes before you decide to leave. You straighten your dress, smooth out any imaginary wrinkles, and push open the door.

The moment you step out, Han is there, leaning casually against the wall just outside the restroom. His eyes light up as he spots you.

“There you are,” he says, pushing off the wall. He immediately hands you a drink, grinning. “I figured you could use a refill.”

You take the glass from him automatically, looking at him curiously. “Were you waiting for me?”

Han shrugs, his smirk playful. “Maybe. Or maybe I just happened to be standing here, looking ridiculously handsome, at the right time.”

You shake your head, chuckling softly. “Of course.”

He watches you take a sip of your drink before stepping closer, tilting his head slightly. “You okay? You disappeared on me back there.”

You hesitate for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Just needed a breather.”

Han doesn’t question it. Instead, he simply smiles and gestures toward the party. “Well, now that you’re back, should we rejoin the fun? Or…” His gaze flickers with mischief. “Do you want to sneak out and do something more interesting?”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t deny it. As you take another sip of your drink, Han effortlessly falls into conversation again, keeping the mood light, as if he’s completely oblivious to the weight lingering in your chest.

As you and Han continue chatting, a strange warmth spreads through your body—not just from the alcohol, but something deeper, heavier. Your skin feels hot, your heartbeat a little too fast, and the room starts to blur at the edges.

You shift on your feet, suddenly restless, and Han notices immediately. “Hey,” he says, reaching out to steady you. “You okay?”

“I just…” You swallow, trying to gather your thoughts. “I think I need some air.”

Without hesitation, Han takes your wrist gently. “Come on,” he says, leading you through the crowd. He navigates the party effortlessly, guiding you toward the balcony doors. The second you step outside, the cool night air rushes over you, making you sigh in relief.

Han watches you closely, concern flickering in his eyes. “Better?”

You nod, but the sensation in your body hasn’t entirely faded. There’s still this strange warmth, this unshakable feeling of being unmoored. You try to focus on Han’s voice as he talks, but his words blur together, fading into the background like static.

Before you even think it through, you murmur, “Can I just… lean against you for a bit?”

Han blinks in surprise, but his reaction is immediate. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Of course.”

He opens his arms slightly, and without another word, you step into his space, resting your head against his chest. His arms come around you naturally, holding you steady, and you melt into his warmth, snug against him.

For a moment, the world quiets. The sounds of the party fade into the background, replaced by the steady rise and fall of Han’s breathing.

“Comfortable?” he asks, his voice low.

You hum in response, your body finally relaxing. You’re not sure if it’s the pill, the drinks, or just sheer exhaustion, but right now, wrapped in Han’s arms, you don’t want to think about anything else.

A slow, melting warmth seeps into your body, and suddenly, it isn’t enough just to rest against Han. You need more—you need to be closer, to feel his warmth completely surrounding you. Without thinking, you shift, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

The scent of him—clean and subtly spiced—fills your senses, and you inhale deeply, a content sigh escaping your lips. Han stills for a moment, then exhales a soft chuckle, his hand instinctively running down your back in a slow, comforting motion.

“You’re really making yourself at home, huh?” he teases, his voice lower, more amused.

But you don’t respond. You just press closer, your head tilting up slightly. Han tilts his head down at the same time, and before you realize what’s happening, your eyes meet—so close, too close.

There’s a moment, a charged silence between you, a breath suspended in time. You can feel it—the pull, the inevitability of it. You’re not sure who leans in first, but suddenly, his lips are just a whisper away from yours, the warmth of his breath fanning over your skin—

And then, abruptly, the moment shatters.

A firm grip wraps around your wrist, yanking you back before your lips can touch. You barely have time to register the shock on Han’s face before you’re being pulled away, your body stumbling into a familiar, solid frame. Chris.

His grip is unrelenting, his body tense as he physically separates you from Han. “We’re leaving,” he says, voice clipped, leaving no room for argument.

You blink up at him, dazed, trying to process the sudden shift. “What—?”

Han straightens, his expression shifting from surprise to something more unreadable. “Dude, what the hell?”

Chris doesn’t answer. He just tightens his grip on your wrist, his jaw ticking. “She’s done here.”

Han’s eyes flick between you and Chris, and then he takes a deliberate step forward, his playful demeanor gone. “She can decide that for herself.”

You can feel the tension crackling in the air between them, thick and suffocating. Your mind is still hazy, your body still burning with lingering heat, but Chris’s grip is grounding—firm, possessive.

For a second, you’re torn. But Chris doesn’t give you a choice. He tugs at your wrist again, his voice dropping lower, quieter. “Let’s go.”

And somehow, even in your dazed state, you find yourself moving, following his lead.

Chris keeps a firm arm around you as you stumble slightly inside the elevator, his grip steadying you. His jaw is tight, his lips pressed into a hard line as he watches you from the corner of his eye. The tension in the small, enclosed space is suffocating.

"You really need to learn your limits," he mutters, voice low but laced with frustration. "Drinking that much? Letting that guy all over you?" He exhales sharply, shaking his head. "You're lucky I was there."

You barely register his words, your body still buzzing, your mind clouded. You feel too warm, too restless. By the time he leads you outside and into the cool night air, you feel like you’re burning from the inside out. He opens the car door for you, his other hand resting on your back to guide you in, but you don’t move. You just stand there, staring at him, your breath coming in short, uneven exhales.

Chris sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "Come on, get in."

"I'm not drunk," you murmur.

Chris lets out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Sure, you’re not."

His dismissiveness makes something snap inside you. Before he can react, you grab the front of his shirt, yanking him down to your level, and press your lips hard against his.

He freezes. His entire body stiffening. For a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe. And then, just as suddenly as you kissed him, you pull away.

Chris stares at you, his eyes wide, lips slightly parted. "What—?"

"I'm not drunk," you repeat, your voice steadier now. "But Jane—" you swallow, your body trembling with heat, "—I think she gave me one of her aphrodisiac pills."

Chris blinks. His expression shifts from confusion to disbelief. "You’re kidding."

You shake your head, but it's hard to focus when all you can think about is the way his body feels pressed against yours, the way his lips felt under yours just now—warm, firm, perfect.

"Chris," you whisper, stepping closer, your fingers fisting his shirt again. You tilt your head up, your eyes dark and needy. "I want you."

Chris swallows hard, his hands hovering near your waist but not quite touching. "You don’t know what you’re saying."

"I do." Your voice drops lower, your lips grazing his jaw. "I want you. I want you... all over me."

Chris lets out a shaky breath, his fingers tightening on your hips. His restraint is palpable, his whole body tensed like a wire about to snap.

You tilt your head back, looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "So… how about we do another test tonight?"

Chris exhales sharply, his hands gripping your arms as if grounding himself. "No," he says, his voice strained. "Not like this."

You blink up at him, your body pulsing with need. "Why not?" Your voice comes out in a frustrated whisper, your fingers tightening around his shirt.

"Because you're not yourself right now," he mutters, jaw clenched. "I’m not taking advantage of you."

"Told you I'm not drunk. I—I'm just so horny," You admit with a shy chuckle. Getting no response from him, you huff, pushing him away with a frustrated groan. "Fine," you bite out. "Then I'll find someone who will."

Chris’s eyes darken instantly. "What?"

"If you won’t help me," you say, turning on your heel, "The hot-guy-with-extra-large-dick Han will."

You don’t make it two steps before Chris’s hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you back with enough force that you collide into his chest. You gasp, but before you can utter another word, his lips crash against yours.

The kiss is punishing—hot, deep, desperate. His hands grip your waist, pressing you firmly against him, his body heat consuming you. His lips move fiercely against yours, and you melt into him, moaning against his mouth.

When he finally pulls back, his breath is ragged, his forehead resting against yours. His grip on you tightens as he growls against your lips, "Get in the fucking car."

Your knees feel weak, your body humming in anticipation. His tone is commanding, leaving no room for argument. Swallowing hard, you nod, breathless.

Chris releases a sharp breath, then, without another word, opens the car door for you. This time, you get in.

-

Chris barely gets the door closed before your hands are on him again, tugging at his jacket, desperate to feel him. He groans against your lips, backing you toward the bed as his fingers work hastily to unbutton your dress.

"You're impatient tonight," he mutters, his voice rough with desire.

"You have no idea," you breathe, yanking his shirt up and over his head. Your hands roam his bare chest, nails scraping lightly down his toned abdomen.

Chris lets out a sharp breath, gripping the fabric of your dress and pulling it down your arms, letting it pool at your feet. His eyes darken as they rake over your body. "You're unreal," he murmurs, his hands roaming your curves, fingers tracing the thin lace of your underwear.

Your hands move to his belt, but he beats you to it, unfastening it in one swift motion before shoving his pants down. His mouth finds yours again, his kisses feverish, almost desperate. He lifts you effortlessly, guiding you onto the bed, his body pressing down against yours.

"Tell me what you need," he murmurs against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck, sending shivers through you.

"You," you whisper, tugging him even closer. "Now."

Chris shifts lower, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he trails kisses down your collarbone, his fingers tracing slow, teasing patterns along your inner thigh. His touch is light, deliberate, setting your nerves alight with anticipation.

"You’re already so worked up," he murmurs, his voice deep, laced with amusement as his fingers brush over the damp fabric of your underwear. His dark eyes flick up to meet yours, watching every little reaction, the way your breath catches, the way your fingers curl against the sheets.

He presses a single digit against you, just enough to feel the heat through the thin lace. "Tell me how bad you want it," he coaxes, but before you can answer, he pushes your underwear aside and slides a finger inside you, slow and deliberate.

A quiet gasp escapes your lips, and Chris smirks, drinking in the way your body tenses, the way your eyes flutter shut. "That good?" he muses, adding another finger, stretching you just right as he curls them slightly, hitting that spot that makes your hips jerk against his hand.

Your fingers dig into his bicep as he sets a steady rhythm, his thumb grazing against you in slow, lazy circles. "Look at you," he breathes, eyes fixated on your parted lips, the soft, involuntary moans slipping out with each movement. "So responsive..."

You bite your lip, barely able to keep yourself from begging for more, but he catches it, his pace shifting, pushing you right to the edge with expert precision. "Don’t hold back," he murmurs, his voice coaxing, hypnotic. "I want to see you fall apart."

Chris watches you unravel, your body trembling against his touch as waves of pleasure wash over you. His fingers never stop moving until you're spent, your breath ragged and uneven. He presses a deep kiss against your parted lips, swallowing the soft whimpers still escaping from you.

When he finally pulls away, you blink up at him, dazed, still reeling. But the hunger inside you hasn’t dulled—it’s only grown stronger. "More," you whisper, your fingers curling around his wrist, guiding his hand back to where you need him the most.

Chris chuckles, low and warm, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. "Greedy, mmh?" he teases, but his voice is thick with desire, betraying how much he wants this just as badly. He leans in, capturing your lips in another slow, lingering kiss before murmuring against your mouth, "I think it's safer if I put the condom on first."

He pushes himself up and gets off the bed, he goes to where your drop your bag on the floor, rummaging through your bag to find the box of condom inside and takes one before returning to bed.

Chris pauses, the condom packet crinkling between his fingers as his eyes land on you. You’re sprawled on the bed, legs spread apart, your fingers moving slowly over your clit while your gaze stays locked onto him. The heat between you both thickens, crackling in the space between you.

He exhales sharply, his grip loosening on the condom as he lets it drop onto the nightstand. His other hand slides down his toned abdomen, wrapping around himself, stroking lazily as he watches you. The way your breaths grow uneven, the way your body responds to the sight of him—it sends a dark thrill through him.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he murmurs, his voice husky, teasing. He gives himself a slow, deliberate stroke, his eyes darkening with something possessive. "Watching me while you touch yourself."

He doesn’t move toward you just yet. He wants to see how far you’ll take it, how much you crave him. And judging by the way your fingers move faster, your lips parting on a quiet gasp, he knows you want this just as badly as he does.

Chris continues watching, enthralled, as your body trembles and shudders under the pleasure you give yourself. Your breaths come out in soft, uneven pants, your fingers working you through your high while your eyes remain locked on him. The way you fall apart at the mere sight of him stroking himself—it sends a deep, possessive satisfaction coursing through him.

As your body relaxes from the waves of pleasure, Chris finally moves. He climbs onto the bed with effortless grace, settling beside you. His hand finds yours, his fingers curling around your wrist as he brings your trembling fingers to his lips.

Holding your gaze, he presses his mouth to your fingertips, his tongue flicking out to taste you. A low hum rumbles in his chest as he licks them clean, his eyes dark with something hungry, something dangerous. "So sweet," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "I could get addicted to this."

Chris keeps his heated gaze locked onto yours as he finally rolls the condom down his length. The way he handles himself—so sure, so in control—only fuels the fire burning inside you.

He reaches for your legs, his hands warm and firm as he lifts them, settling them against his chest. His lips find your calf first, pressing a lingering kiss there before trailing lower, his breath hot against your skin. His mouth finds your ankle next, planting another kiss there, unhurried, almost reverent, before he finally parts your legs just enough.

You feel the weight of him as he slips between, his thick length pressing against your cunt but not quite entering. Instead, he rocks his hips forward, the friction sending a slow, torturous pleasure through your core as he thrusts between the soft, slick heat of your thighs.

His grip tightens, holding your legs securely against him as he sets a steady rhythm, dragging his cock between your folds with each deliberate roll of his hips. The teasing sensation makes you ache, makes you crave more, but Chris doesn’t rush. He keeps his pace steady, his lips brushing over your ankle again as he murmurs, “You feel so good like this.”

Chris keeps his steady rhythm, his length gliding between your thighs, dragging against your swollen clit with every thrust. His grip on your legs tightens as he watches you, his eyes dark with hunger. The pressure, the friction—it’s all too much, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge of release.

Sensing it, Chris suddenly lets go of your legs, spreading them wide on either side of him. His hands find your hips, and before you can even process what’s happening, he pushes forward, sinking his length into your entrance in one smooth motion.

The sudden stretch, the overwhelming fullness, and the way he fills you—it all crashes over you at once. Your body tenses before unraveling, pleasure slamming through you as you come hard around him, your walls fluttering and squeezing him tight.

Chris groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he stills inside you, feeling every wave of your release. His lips part, eyes locked onto your blissed-out expression as he murmurs, “That’s it… just like that.”

He stills for a moment, letting you ride out the aftershocks of your climax before he starts moving again, his thrusts slow and steady. He watches the way your body takes him, stretching to accommodate his size, your breath hitching with each movement.

But then, as he pushes his cock deeper, you let out a sharp whine, your hands gripping his arms. “Chris… not too deep,” you whine.

He freezes immediately, concern flashing in his dark eyes. Without hesitation, he withdraws just enough to ease the pressure, his touch grounding. “Better?” he asks, voice low, restrained.

You nod, your muscles relaxing beneath him. Chris carefully thrusts back in, this time slower, more measured, watching for any signs of discomfort. But instead of pain, a moan slips past your lips, your body adjusting around him.

His lips curve into a smirk before he leans down, capturing your lips in a slow, searing kiss. “You feel so good around me,” he murmurs against your mouth, his voice thick with desire. He punctuates his words with another deep thrust, swallowing your moan as he kisses you again, his hands roaming, grounding you in the pleasure only he can give.

Chris moves with utmost care, his body pressing flush against yours as he fills you over and over again. His breath is warm against your skin, his lips tracing a path from your jaw down to your collarbone, lingering as if he wants to savor every inch of you.

You shudder beneath him, overwhelmed by the fullness, by the way he’s stretching you in a way no one else ever could. “Chris… touch me,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

A low growl rumbles in his chest as his hand glides between your soft mounds, he fondles on the ample flesh before pinching on your nipples, drawing out sounds from you that make his eyes darken with need. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “Oh, this body—So fucking perfect for me.”

He kisses down your throat, across your chest, taking each of your nipple into his mouth and sucking on it hard, his lips trailing over every place his hands explore. The possessiveness in his touch sends heat straight to your core. He cups your face, forcing you to look at him as he thrusts deeper. “No one fits you perfectly like I do,” he whispers against your lips before kissing you slow and deep. “Just me. You’re mine.”

And with the way your body tightens around him, surrendering completely, you know you’re his.

Chris entwines his fingers with yours, pressing your hands above your head, pinning you to the bed as he keeps moving inside you. His thrusts are deep, deliberate—like he wants to make sure you feel every inch of him, to make sure you know exactly who’s making you fall apart.

Your body tightens around him, your breaths coming in short, desperate gasps as the pleasure coils inside you, building to an unbearable peak. He watches you, his gaze dark and intense, his own breathing ragged as he chases his release alongside you.

"Let go," he whispers against your lips, his voice thick with need. "Come for me."

And you do—your entire body arching, trembling beneath him as waves of pleasure crash through you, pulling him along with you. His grip on your hands tightens as he groans, his movements becoming erratic before he finally buries himself deep inside you one last time, his release following yours.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, the warmth of his body still pressed against yours. Then, slowly, he loosens his hold on your hands, kissing each of your wrists before lowering himself to kiss your lips—soft this time, lingering, as if he doesn’t want to let go of this moment just yet.

The next moment, you find yourself lying on your side, exhaustion settling deep in your bones, your body still thrumming from the aftermath of pleasure. Your eyelids grow heavy, and just as you’re about to drift off, you feel the mattress dip behind you. Chris slips back into bed, his warmth immediately surrounding you, and without thinking, you instinctively snuggle against him.

Softly, you murmur his name, tilting your head slightly, searching for him in the dim glow of the room. He hears you—feels you—and before you can say anything more, his lips find yours. The kiss is slow, unhurried, a stark contrast to the intensity from earlier. You sigh against his mouth, guiding his arm around you, pressing his hand to your skin, silently asking for more.

His fingers trace gentle patterns along your arm, down your side, skimming over the curves of your body with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t push—just touches you like he’s memorizing every inch, grounding you in his presence.

The soothing rhythm of his touch, the steady rise and fall of his breathing behind you, lulls you into a peaceful haze. As you begin to slip into sleep, Chris presses one last kiss to the back of your shoulder, his hold tightening around you, as if silently telling you that he’s not going anywhere.

You feel yourself sinking deeper into sleep, wrapped in Chris’s warmth, his touch lingering on your skin like a quiet promise. His breathing is steady, soothing, his hand resting on your waist as if he doesn’t want to let go.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know this was supposed to be about the product test. About business. About work. But none of that seems to matter anymore.

All you can think about is him—how good he feels around you, how perfectly he fits against you, how easy it is to lose yourself in him. And for the first time, you don’t try to fight it. You just let yourself fall.

-

Monday morning arrives with a heavy weight pressing down on your shoulders. The upcoming presentation looms over you, and as you go through your notes, tweaking last-minute details, the stress slowly builds.

Your lab is unusually quiet, everyone focused on their own work, but the tension is unmistakable. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself when the door swings open, and in comes Jane, carrying a tray of coffee cups.

"Morning, everyone," she chirps, setting the tray down on the nearest counter. She picks up one cup and hands it to you personally. "Thought you could use this before your big presentation."

You take it gratefully, the warmth of the cup grounding you. "Thanks, Jane. I really need it."

She grins, tapping your shoulder playfully. "You're gonna do great. Don’t overthink it. Just go in there and show them why you’re the best at what you do."

Your team murmurs their agreement, offering you nods of encouragement. You exhale, feeling a little lighter. "Alright. Let’s do this."

You stand at the front of the conference room, the large screen behind you displaying your carefully crafted slides. Taking a steadying breath, you begin your presentation, guiding the board through the development, research, and testing phases of your product. You're clearly nervous but you also can't deny that there's this spark of excitement inside you from knowing that Chris is here.

Everything goes smoothly—until one of the executives leans forward and asks, "Have you completed the product testing?"

You hesitate for only a second before answering honestly. "Yes, my team and I have conducted tests with about 20 participants so far. The results have come in at approximately 82 percent, but those results show overwhelmingly positive outcomes for the product."

The room hums with murmurs as the board members exchange glances. Another executive asks, "Only 82 percent? Is there a reason why it hasn’t reached full completion?"

You nod, maintaining your composure. "Some participants haven't finished all phases of testing yet, and we're still gathering long-term feedback. However, the data we've collected so far strongly supports the product's effectiveness and market viability."

There’s a brief pause before one of the higher-ups speaks. "So, based on the current results, do you believe the product is ready for the next phase?"

Your grip tightens slightly on the remote in your hand. You briefly glance at Chris, looking calm and composed. Turning back to the board, you lift your chin and respond with confidence. "Yes, I do."

The board members exchange glances, some nodding in agreement while others seem uncertain. They begin discussing among themselves, weighing the potential risks and benefits of pushing the product into production with only 82 percent of the testing complete.

You listen intently, your fingers subtly gripping the edge of the table as you wait for their final say. But then, Chris—who has been mostly quiet throughout the presentation—clears his throat.

"As the product manager," he begins, leaning slightly forward with his hands clasped together on the table, "I believe this product shows great promise, but I also think it needs more time to fully develop as a whole before moving to production."

His words hit you like a sudden chill. You blink, barely concealing your surprise as you turn to look at him. Of all people, you thought he would support you, not slow things down.

"Why?" One of the executives asks, shifting their focus to Chris.

Chris exhales, maintaining a calm but firm demeanor. "While the test results are positive, we still have incomplete data. Rushing production without that final percentage could lead to unforeseen issues down the line. I suggest we allow more time for testing to ensure we’re delivering the best possible product."

The air in the room feels heavy, charged with an unexpected tension. You sit there, frozen, staring at Chris as his words settle over the table like a cold gust of wind.

Needs more time.

You blink, certain you misheard him. But as you scan the room, watching the board members nodding along to his words, reality sinks in. You expected hesitation from them, some pushback—but from Chris? The one person you thought would support you?

Your fingers tighten slightly against the smooth surface of the table as one of the executives speaks up. "Mr. Bang, the data so far shows overwhelmingly positive results. What concerns do you have specifically?"

Chris remains composed, his expression calm and professional. "While the initial findings are promising, we're still missing a full picture. An 82 percent completion rate isn’t enough. We need to ensure the product works consistently across all test cases. If we rush into production now and unforeseen issues arise, it could set us back significantly."

You swallow, your pulse quickening. His reasoning makes sense, but something about this doesn’t sit right with you.

"But," you interject, keeping your tone even, "our projections show that the product is already outperforming expectations. The test subjects' feedback has been overwhelmingly positive. We could work on final refinements even as we prepare for production."

Chris finally turns to you, and for a fleeting moment, something unreadable flickers in his gaze. "It's not just about projections. We need certainty. If we wait and refine the product further, we’ll have a stronger launch, with fewer risks."

You press your lips together, your stomach twisting. Why does it feel like he’s shutting this down?

The board members deliberate, murmuring among themselves before one of them speaks up. "We appreciate your work on this, but we agree with Mr. Bang’s recommendation. We need to be absolutely sure before we move forward. Continue testing. We’ll revisit this in a month."

A month.

You inhale slowly, forcing a composed nod. "Understood."

The meeting adjourns, chairs scraping against the floor as people gather their notes. You stay seated for a second longer, staring blankly at the screen where your presentation once was.

You remain seated as the board members file out, their decision echoing in your mind like a dull, unrelenting thud. The weight of it presses against your chest, but nothing feels heavier than the quiet betrayal sitting in the air between you and Chris.

You glance toward the door, catching sight of his retreating back as he exits the room without looking at you. No explanation. No acknowledgment. Nothing.

Your fingers clench around the edge of the table. Disbelief lingers in your bones, tightening around your ribs. You never expected him—of all people—to be the one to hold you back. To stand in the way of your work. Your progress.

He should have had your back. Shouldn’t he? But instead, he shut you down.

You force yourself to stand, smoothing down your blouse even as frustration simmers beneath your skin. You don’t know why Chris went against you today. You don’t know why he suddenly acted as though this wasn’t something worth pushing forward.

You exhale, shaking off the uneasy feeling creeping into your chest. Maybe he’s just being cautious. Maybe this really is just about the product.

Maybe.

-

✨ The third chapter of Cocky is available on my Patreon page. ✨

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[subliminalghoest]

Safe house

Ghoap x f!reader

The safehouse was barebones—four walls, a door that didn’t close properly, and a single narrow bed shoved against the wall like an afterthought. One thin blanket. No heater. Concrete floors so cold they bit through your boots.

Soap stepped in first, glancing around with a sigh. “Right, well. Guess this place was built for one poor bastard, not three.”

Ghost dropped his gear by the wall with a grunt. “I’ll take the floor.”

“Hell no,” you said automatically, slinging your pack down. “You’ll freeze.”

“I’m used to it.”

Soap rolled his eyes and gave Ghost a flat look. “You’ve got enough screws loose without adding hypothermia to the list.”

“Then I’ll take the floor,” you offered, already tugging at your jacket zipper. “I’m small enough to crash on my pack.”

Both men gave you the same sharp look.

“No,” Ghost said, voice final.

“You’ll ache for a week,” Soap added. “We’re not doing that.”

You all stood there a moment, silent, stubborn. Then Soap looked at the bed again and shrugged.

“We’re all adults. One bed, three bodies. Head to toe if we have to.”

You arched a brow. “Ever tried sleeping with Ghost’s boots near your face?”

Ghost snorted, the faintest smirk in his voice. “I’m not sleeping in my boots, you know.”

Eventually, an agreement was made: all three of you in the bed, boys facing outward—Ghost on one side, Soap on the other, and you safe in the middle. They’d flank you, keep you warm, no funny business. Just sleep.

That had been the plan, anyway.

You weren’t sure what time it was when you woke up—just that the moonlight had shifted and the room was bathed in soft silver. You were too warm, wrapped in heat that had nothing to do with the thin blanket.

Soap’s arm was slung lazily over your waist, his hand resting just beneath the hem of your shirt, skin-to-skin and entirely unbothered. His breath tickled the curve of your neck, soft and steady. One of his legs had somehow worked its way between yours, your leg hitched over his.

Behind you, Ghost was molded to your back, chest pressed close, the slow rise and fall of his breath an anchor against your spine. One of his arms wrapped around your middle, the other tucked beneath the pillow you shared. Protective. Possessive. Present.

You shifted slightly, caught between warmth and awareness, and felt Soap's fingers twitch.Ghost’s hand tightened, just a fraction. Like they both felt it too.

Your breath hitched.

It wasn’t anything overt. Nothing crude. You were surrounded, caged in heat and strength and quiet tension.

And God, it felt good.

You could’ve pulled back. Should’ve. But you didn’t. You leaned in—drifting your fingers along Ghost’s forearm, letting your leg press deeper against Soap’s. Neither man spoke, but Soap’s breath caught, quiet and sharp.

Ghost... Ghost exhaled against the back of your neck, slow and deliberate, his face pressing in closer.

You fell asleep again like that—wrapped in the kind of tension that lulled you rather than startled. Wanting to stay wrapped in this dream a little longer before having to face reality.

—————————————————————————

The second time you woke, it was slower—every inch of your body aware before your mind caught up.

Warmth. Weight. Pressure. Breath against your throat.

Soap had shifted in the night, his head now tucked beneath your chin, resting lightly on your bicep. Your arm had curled around him, cradling him. His hand had drifted lower, fingers curved gently around the dip of your thigh. Your hips pressed snugly to his. Innocent, but barely.

Behind you, Ghost had only pulled you closer—his hand now splayed along your ribs, thumb rhythmically stroking the soft skin just under your breast.

You stayed still. Testing the moment.

Then you moved—just a little. A shift, nothing more.

Soap stirred against you, his body pressing closer.

Ghost’s hand stilled… then resumed its slow stroke.

Deliberate. Intentional.

“You’re awake,” came Ghost’s voice—low, gravelly. Dangerous.

You swallowed. “Didn’t mean to move.”

“Didn’t say stop.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Soap chuckled, his voice still thick with sleep and something else. “Think she likes waking up between us.” He arched his neck up and you felt his nose run up your neck, running back down to your collar bone where he nuzzled into you.

Your breath hitched.

“You’re imagining things,” you mumbled, but your voice betrayed you. Soft. Breathless.

“You sure about that?” Ghost leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear through the mask. “Because from where I’m lying, you haven’t moved away.”

You didn’t respond. Couldn’t. You were burning now—trapped between them and completely unwilling to escape.

Soap shifted again, his hand trailing down your thigh, thumb brushing the edge of your shorts. “We won’t do anything you don’t want, love,” he murmured.

“But if you want something…” Ghost said, voice dropping to a low, dark promise, “…just say it.”

The silence stretched.

And you wondered how you were going to convince yourself that this was a bad idea.

Part two Here

[mourning-sapphire]

living dead girl | aemond targaryen

Summary: You didn’t think going to a gig would then have you on your back with the lead guitarist between your thighs and a blinking red light on the nightstand.

Pairing: Metal Guitarist!Aemond x Reader (modern au)

Warnings (not in order): roughly set in the 00s, voyeurism/filming sexual acts (with consent! but again there is explicit filming of sexual acts), smut, spitting, spanking, overstimulation, guitarists finger faster, multiple positions, use of nicknames (baby, bunny etc.), face-fucking, dry humping, a healthy dose of dacryphilia, softish? dom!aemond, sub reader, cum eating/sharing (oops), UNPROTECTED sex (don’t do this irl), edging (m), creampie, aftercare.

Word count: 30k

authors note: ive read this about a million times, if there's a mistake know i had to proof this myself, enjoy babies hehe <3

Series Masterlist

Dragon’s Gate Bar

            Bodies, bodies, bodies.

The scent of incense hung heavy in the air, so overpowering that it drowned out the usual smells of a packed crowd—sweat, stale drinks, and damp jackets. About 150 people were shoved into the sticky floored basement of an alt bar, the only one in the city; bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, the walls sweating from the collective heat. All shuffling and moving for the same reason – to see some band.

“I’m not sure why you dragged me out to this,” you shouted to your friend Sara, leaned close to be heard over the noise. Your eyes flicker up to the dinky but oddly charming stage. “It’s not like I’m here for the same reason you are.”

It’s not that you didn’t enjoy alternative music, actually, you loved the rush and relief it gave you after a hard day at work or when you needed an adrenaline boost at the gym. But going to gigs? That was never really your thing. The preference for you was being sat in your bedroom, thinking with headphones on, rather than grimacing every time someone knocked into you or risking a drink getting spilt over you. You didn’t knock the culture; you just didn’t go very far out of your comfort zone often.

Sara on the other hand? Despite being your friend she was the polar opposite, she was always the more outgoing one. The one that pushed you out of your comfort zone and made sure you always had fun wherever she dragged you to. But for all intents and purposes, and in her own words, she was a groupie.

The thrill she got from following bands she loved, chasing the music, and hooking up with someone along the way was unmatched for her, honestly? You adored her for it. The stories she shared about her escapades; the tours she hauled herself on, the wild nights, the explicit encounters in seedy bathrooms, were nothing short of thrilling. In a way, you lived vicariously through her adventures.

“Girl,” She leaned in as close as you, and yelled back, “When I tell you that you’ll love this band, trust me, not only are they talented but fuck, they are hot.” She cackled, glancing around the bar before she grabbed your arm and pointed to the stage door.

“See him over there?” she said, pointing toward a medium-length, white-haired guy who looked a little worse for wear as he chatted with someone by the side of the stage; just her type. “That’s Aegon. He’s the lead singer.”

Your lips parted to respond to her before she slapped your arm, and pointed just left of the lead singer.

“And over there? That’s Daeron,” she said with a sly giggle and a raised brow. “The drummer, shy and totally your type.” Sara couldn’t help but tease, cooing at you with a dirty smirk on her red lips.

Following her gaze, you couldn’t help but purse your lips in appreciation. She wasn’t entirely wrong, Daeron did seem like your type. He wasn’t the tallest, but he was taller than the lead singer. His cropped white hair had a fluffy texture with curls on top, and his ears were kitted out with a plethora of piercings. He wore what you could only describe as a "slutty" tank top, arms on full display, paired with ripped black straight leg jeans. Everything about him screamed boy in the band. At the edge of the stage, he was lost in his rhythm, tapping his drumsticks on a practice pad with focused look.

“Are they all related or something,” You asked her, looking at Daeron intensely as the black-haired man who was speaking to Aegon wandered over to him next.

“Yes,” She nodded with a shit-eating grin, her eyes burning with some sort of desire, “There’s a guitarist too, Aemond, but he’s a bit no-nonsense with everything so you never see him until he goes on stage – their sister Helaena joins them as bass when they tour.” She added.

“So, they’re a family of musicians?” You raised your eyebrow apprehensively, giving her a strange look, “That’s a first.”

“Kinda hot,” she said, biting her lip with an amused glint in her eyes before shooting you a heated look. “Two brothers in one go? Now that’s my kind of night.” You could only shake your head at her, matching her amused expression.

“What’s their name again?” you asked, glancing at the stage’s fabric backdrop; a black flag with a red, cracked crown decorating the centre.

“Blood Princes,” she replied with a slight eye roll, grabbing your arm and tugging you toward the front of the crowd. She pushed forward with little regard for the glares thrown her way. “Bit of a silly name, but apparently, they’re descended from royalty or something,” she yelled back over her shoulder.

You let out a puff of air, grimacing at the annoyed looks Sara earned as she elbowed her way through the crowd. While the lights began to dim as the last stragglers filtered into the bar, and the noise of the crowd swelled. Determined as ever, Sara made it her life’s mission to reach the barrier at the very front.

The stage was lower than what you’d see at a big venue, leaving no doubt that this was all part of her plan. If she could get front and centre, so could her flirty attitude, and she’d make sure one of the brothers noticed. It was clear she had her sights set on turning tonight into another of her wild stories.

You followed her reluctantly, shuffling through the crowd as Sara carried forward with pure energy and eagerness. The closer you got to the front, the more you could start to feel the heat of the crowd, the mix of raw excitement snapping in the air as the yelling increased. The air felt thick with incense and the promise of something about to happen.

By the time you had shoved your way to the barrier, she was practically vibrating with excitement, her smoky eyes scanning the side of the stage for any sign of the brothers. You couldn't help but chuckle under your breath. She was a force of nature when she got this determined (or horny).

The room grew darker, and the chatter quieted, replaced by the rising tone of a guitar. The anticipation in the air felt electric, and if the atmosphere was anything to go by, then these brothers probably knew how to put on a show. You couldn’t deny you were caught up in the feeling that Sara felt, that raw charge of the night and the want to just let go and enjoy yourself.

Despite yourself, you found your heart racing, the bobbing of silver-haired men on the side and the crowd starting to chant, topped off and heightened by Sara's infectious energy.

It was like a fate when the lights cut out completely, plunging the room into darkness. The screams of the crowd collectively pierced the air, waiting for the first notes to break the silence.

“Dragon’s Gate,” A smooth timber of who you assumed was Aegon pulsed out the speaker - a deep, resonating sound that seemed to shook the air around you. The crowd erupted into cheers, and the lights flashed to life in a red hue pointing to the crown, and the sound of high hats tapping filled the air, “I want to fucking HEAR YOU.” He screamed into the mic.

The band appeared on stage in a blur of black and leather, shadows shifting as they settled into their positions. Daeron, the drummer, was the first you spotted, his hands a blur of movement as he tapped the edge of his cymbals with precision. Aegon, took centre stage, his presence magnetic as he grabbed the microphone with a casual confidence.

The sound hit you like a wave and the drums thrummed in your chest as the guitars screamed through the air. Aegon’s voice, gravelly yet melodic, cut through that chaos. The crowd surged as one, a mass of bodies moving with the rhythm, drawn together in the shared euphoria of the moment.

It was at that moment, from your spot by the side of the stage, that your gaze landed on the other brother, the one you hadn’t seen before.

Aemond.

You weren’t sure if it was the crowd or the way his eyes locked onto yours, but you were breathless as you took in the sight of him. Tall, lithe, and utterly commanding, he moved right in front of your line of vision, his presence pulling you in like a magnet.

Like his brothers, Aemond was dressed head to toe in rich black. His t-shirt clung to his body like a second skin, while a heavily decorated leather jacket hung casually over his shoulders; spotted with studs and patches that you didn’t understand. His jeans were tight and ripped, accentuating every sculpted muscle in his skinny legs, and topped off with a heavy looking buckle. His hair, much longer than both of his brothers, was straight and swayed with each nod of his head like rivers of liquid silver spilling over his shoulders.

What stood out the most was the faint red scar that ran across his eye, its presence flickering with each flash of light, yet always there. His eye seemed largely unaffected, milky white and probably not useable conventionally, but the slash only seemed to enhance his features rather than detract from them, adding a raw intensity to his face that made it all the more striking.

And his hands? God, his hands.

They were perfectly large and veined, like they’d been carved by the gods themselves, made to pluck strings. His bony fingers grasped onto the neck of his guitar and moved up and down in a way that told you that he had rough skin.

Something was captivating about him, something that drew your attention even as the chaos of the crowd swirled around you with the sounds of screams and shoves. It was like every movement he made seemed deliberate, as though he knew exactly how to command the room without a word; if the screaming of girls around your side of the stage was anything to go by. His eyes flicked toward you again as they started to pick up with the first song, it was as if the noise of the crowd faded for a split second, and it was just the two of you in that electric space.

Aemond didn’t look away, his gaze steady and piercing, and you felt an inexplicable shiver lick down your spine. It was like he wanted to eat you. You could almost hear the music beneath the pounding bass, its rhythm syncing with the beating of your heart. You were no longer just watching a show, you were completely caught in a moment with this man, completely aware of how he seemed to take up every bit of the space around you.

He gave a small, almost imperceptible smirk, and you couldn’t tell if it was meant for the crowd or you. But it didn’t matter.

In that brief exchange, something shifted. You couldn’t look away, and neither could he. The connection, electric and silent, buzzed between you like an unspoken dare. The music throbbed louder, the crowd's energy surging again, but now, you were focused entirely on him. Aegon's screams blending into the background.

The moment seemed to stretch beyond moral time; each second dragging on as the intensity between your gazes grew. The music swirled around you, but it felt distant now as Sara jumped beside you completely unaware.

It was fading into the background as Aemond’s presence consumed your attention, a warming feeling building in your core just from his very eyes. His eyes never left yours, and with each beat, it was as though he was drawing you in deeper, challenging you to break the gaze between you.

The crowd surged around you, people moshing and shoving with an energy you didn’t possess, but you stood still, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and raw desire for a man you didn’t know. You could see his fingers moving on the guitar, effortlessly sliding across the strings with a grace that made it hard to look away.

But it wasn’t just his playing; it was the way his whole body moved with the music, the way he seemed so at ease on the stage, yet undeniably aware of every person in the room; he was there only for himself.

Every moment passing felt like hours. And then, without breaking eye contact, he crouched to the edge of the stage and leaned in slightly, his expression darkening in a way that made your breath hitch; his fingers moving at a speed you didn’t comprehend as he rattled off some solo. The crowd roared around you at him, but all you could hear was the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

With a flushed face, you could only look him up and down as Aemond smirked again, this time broader, as if he’d won some silent game between you. You couldn’t tell if he was inviting you in or daring you to look away, but either way, you knew you were already lost in it.

You knew you were fucked.

The rest of the show passed in a blur, all with Aemond’s face etched into your mind; the unspoken tension between you two palpable and electric, intoxicating even. But it was as intense as it was intoxicating, leaving you with a building warmth deep in your core – a sensation you weren’t sure you’d ever felt from a singular person before. It wasn’t just the music or the atmosphere causing it; it was something more primal, a raw need charging between two people who hadn’t even exchanged a word.

Aemond’s gaze never wavered, and neither did yours. The connection was undeniable, like an unspoken promise of more hanging in the air. Every glance, every flick of his fingers on the guitar, seemed to deepen the pull between you. The crowd around you faded, the noise blurring into the background as if the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

When the final song hit and for a brief, fleeting moment, Aemond’s eyes locked with yours one last time as he handed his guitar off to one of the techs. He held your gaze with an intensity that made the air thick and heavy like something was about to snap. The moment was charged but brief as he roamed over you with his eyes before disappearing off the side of the stage, leaving you standing there, breathless, wanting more.

As the lights came up, Sara turned to you with a grin so smug it could only mean she did, in fact, see the whole thing. Her head whipped around so quickly, much to the chagrin of the man behind her who got slapped with her hair, it was a miracle she didn’t get dizzy. Before you could react, her manicured hand was clutching your arm, yanking you closer.

“Girl, what was that?” she demanded, shaking you slightly for emphasis like she couldn’t contain herself. “And don’t you dare tell me ‘nothing.’ I saw the way you were making ‘fuck me’ eyes at him.” She widened her eyes for emphasis.

“I—I don’t know,” you stammered, still a little breathless from the intensity of it all. Your eyes briefly glanced back at where he had just stood on stage. “We just… locked eyes, and I couldn’t look away.”

Sara squealed so loudly that a few people nearby shot her odd looks, but she didn’t care. Her face was one on of pure elated happiness,

“Are you gonna fuck him? Please tell me you are,” she asked, bouncing on the spot like a giddy child. “I mean, you picked the hardest one in the band to crack, but girl, you have to,” she said, her eyes wide and full of determination.

You gave her an incredulous look. “Sara,”

“What,” she shot back, shameless. “You know I’m right. That was electric, babe. You can’t let a moment with a man like that go to waste.”

If someone were to stare at you right now, they’d witness your mouth opening and closing like a confused fish – completely unable to tell your best friend otherwise. It was comical, and it was embarrassing because she was right. If the burning in your core didn’t speak to how much you wanted him, the fact that he ensnared your gaze without even mumbling a single word to you was something written out of a shitty book. You knew nothing about him; besides the 3 things Sara told you and the fact that visually he might be the most gorgeous men you’ve ever seen.

It wasn’t like one-night stands were completely off the table - you indulged now and then, just like anyone else. You were an adult woman with needs, after all. But sleeping with a musician? That sounded like a recipe for absolute disaster.

Charming, unpredictable, and fleeting all swirled around your head. Musicians were the people who lived in the moment, burned bright, and moved on just as quickly. A one-night stand with a regular person was one thing, a mutual, fleeting connection that was understood and beneficial, but with a musician? It felt like opening the door to a mess of complications. Your face internally grimacing at the idea of blurred boundaries, ego trips, and the lingering aftermath of knowing you were likely just another fleeting memory for them.

You rolled your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “It’s not like I can just walk up to him and—”

“Oh, yes, you can!” Sara interrupted, her grip on your arm tightening as she gave you a look that could burn through steel. “He was looking at you, not just glancing, babe. That was full-on-undressing-you-with-his-eyes energy.”

“Sara,” you hissed, glancing around at the dispersing crowd, it was unlikely anyone cared. “He’s probably already gone backstage or something.”

Sara could only give you a look that called you an idiot on various levels, her eyes fluttering like you’d said the stupidest thing in the world to her.

Sara snorted and crossed her arms. “They always head to the bar upstairs after the show, mingle with the crowd or whatever – it’s usually invite only or guestlist, but I know the bartender here, he’ll vouch for us.”

Your stomach flipped. “What?”

She smirked, pointing toward the other side of the room, where the stairs that led up to the bar stood – two men with beards guarding it with a passive look on their face. She could only turn and grin like she’d won the lottery, her confidence practically oozing.

“Relax, babe. I’ve done this a million times. We’ll get in, no problem.” She said smugly, linking arms with you and practically dragging you to the stairs.

The two bouncers looked intimidating but uninterested, scanning the dispersing crowd like they’d rather be anywhere else. Your stomach churned with a mix of nerves and excitement.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” you asked her, though you knew it was a futile question. Once Sara had a plan and sex on the brain, she was unstoppable.

“Good idea? Probably not,” she admitted with a laugh, linking her arm through yours and pulling you toward the stairs. “But a fun one? Abso-fucking-lutely.” She grinned.

You sighed but didn’t resist her as she led the way, her platform heels thudding against the sticky floor. Deep in your gut you knew this was a terrible idea, possibly even the worst idea of hers you could have gotten involved in, but there was a depraved part of your brain that was curious to see if your little staring contest would go anywhere.

When you eventually reached the base of the stairs, you were clearly not the only people itching to get up into the private afterparty, a gaggle of women surrounding the bouncers like hungry zombies.

Sara, being the champ that she was, merely elbowed her way in again, much like the gig crowd, and it was in a blink of an eye before one of the bouncers held up a hand to stop you going further.

“Private area,” he said flatly, giving both of you a once-over.

Sara didn’t miss a beat. She leaning in and flashing that bright smile she pulled when she wanted her way, a gentle purr to her tone as she dropped the name of someone, probably the bartender, like they were old friends. “He said it’s fine.”

On of the bouncers raised an eyebrow, glancing at his companion, who gave a barely perceptible nod; the lack of care on his face. “Alright. Go on up,” he said, stepping aside.

Your eyes widened as Sara tugged you up the stairs. “How do you do that?” you whispered, in awe as she dragged you up the stairs, your eyes glancing behind you to see the hordes of unhappy women at your easy entry.

She shrugged with a grin, jogging up the stairs like her life was dependant on it. “You gotta make them believe what you’re telling them by believing it yourself and somehow it works.”

The upstairs bar was smaller and far more exclusive, with low lighting, posters covering the walls from all the bands that had played there, and a tamer hum of the crowd. The air was tinged with a mix of lingering incense smoke, drinks, and something faintly metallic, it wasn’t off-putting in the slightest though.

It was quieter up here, the crowd dwindled to a select few – mostly friends, fans, and stage crew. The hum of voices was more subdued, like a white noise of just people around you with no discernible conversation being picked up; a stark contrast to the previous frenzied yelling from down the stairs.

The first thing you noticed was the band itself, scattered throughout the room like stars in their own sky. Each member was absorbed in their own little bubble of admirers around them, each with the casual confidence they exuded making them magnetic even in this more relaxed setting.

You could see Sara perk up from beside you as she dragged you to the bar; Aegon, holding court further down the bar, a lazy grin plastered on his face as he entertained a small group of women who all seemed to be fawning for his attention.

“You going to go over to him?” You ask her softly, nudging her with your elbow as you both lean on the bar, gesturing to the bartender for two ciders, “I mean, you look like you’re about to burst from excitement.” There’s was teasing tilt to your voice

“You mean am I going to fight off the 7 girls around him?” She rolled her eyes softly, fishing in her tiny bag for her compact and lipstick, “To which I’ll tell you, maybe, I’ll see how I feel – maybe I’ll go for one of the other brothers,” Her eyes flicked back to you with a smirk shining in them.

At her jest, you turned and looked for the other brothers – only to find Daeron stood near a corner booth, shyly sipping his drink while someone in a leather jacket tried to strike up a conversation; shy for a drummer.

Sara’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, her smirk only growing as she dragged her lipstick across her mouth with an exaggerated flourish. “That is,” she added casually, snapping the compact shut with a satisfying click, “unless someone has dibs.”

Her words hung in the air, pointed and playful. You glanced back at her, and the teasing sparkle in her eyes made your cheeks flush.

“Does that someone?” she asked, arching a perfectly sculpted brow, her tone light but loaded with suggestion.

She knew exactly what she was doing and she was stupidly happy about it, and even worse, she wasn’t wrong. The thought of “dibs” made your mind flash back to Aemond, his intense gaze, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his hands moved as if they were an extension of his will.

Could you handle if she decided to sleep with him? You didn’t know him, so you shouldn’t care, and Sara would never do that to you anyway. But, there was a burning in your chest at the thought of someone doing it. An ugly and nauseous feeling that clawed at your oesophagus, tearing into it and leaking something putrid into your soul.

You cleared your throat, the tight feeling suddenly like hand around your airway, fumbling pathetically for a response. “I mean, I just…” You trailed off, trying to come up with something, anything, that didn’t sound like an admission.

Sara just grinned, completely unbothered by your flustered state. “You’re cute when you’re nervous, like a skittish kitten,” she said, drawing out the sounds with a knowing lilt.

She tucked her compact back into her bag and adjusted her top. “Look, all I’m saying is, if you want to make a move, now’s your chance. Guys like that? They don’t stick around long; and they certainly don’t stick around alone for long.”

She was right and you hated it, her words sinking in and hitting a nerve. The cider you had ordered was cold in your hand as you leant on the bar, glancing around for any sign him. A nervous sip being taken at the thought.

Your breath caught when you saw him.

Standing off to the darker side of the bar, well-removed from the centre of attention, Aemond seemed completely at ease yet undeniably commanding in his chosen space. His tall frame leaned casually against the wall like he didn’t really care to be there; his fingers curled around a glass of dark liquid as he chatted quietly to someone, a lady with dark hair. The faint light caught his silver strands and the sharp planes of his face, making him look almost otherworldly in such a normal place.

The woman with him laughed softly, her voice barely audible over the murmur of the crowd but you caught it; it was womanly and warm, but Aemond’s reaction to her was muted – a polite nod, and brief flicker of what you could call smile that didn’t quite reach his eye. His focus seemed elsewhere, like he was merely going through the motions of the conversation.

It wasn’t until he caught your eye, that his demeanour shifted. His posture straightened subtly, his head tilting ever so slightly as his eye locked onto yours; a nod so subtle you weren't sure if you caught it, a silent beckon to ‘come closer’. The woman beside him seemed to notice, however, her own gaze darting toward you with mild curiosity before she offered him a quick goodbye and slipped away into the crowd.

You hesitated for the briefest moment, your heart pounding in your chest, Sara was close to you watching the whole thing with a smug look on her face. The feel of her sharp elbow digging into your side snapped you out of your stare, your head whipping to look at her with wide eyes.

“Go,” she said, her voice firm but there was an air encouragement under it.

You glanced back at her, your heart racing, and then turned toward Aemond, “I don’t want to just leave you on your own.”

If she rolled her eyes any harder, they would drop right out her skull, “Alone? Babe, I’m going home with someone, and you will too – now go.”

You hesitated for the briefest moment, your heart pounding in your chest, before your feet carried you forward almost on instinct. The closer you got, the more palpable his presence became, as though he commanded the very air around him. His gaze never strayed from you the whole time you walked over; steady and unrelenting, it was like he had all the time in the world to wait for you.

It was flattering, but it was like he was enraptured by watching a small animal about to get pounced on, his eye strong to the point that you could have sworn that the lighting made it look like a void.

When you finally stopped in front of him, he was leaned back slightly against the wall, like another frame on the gallery that was posters and signatures of past gigs. He was perched there like a gargoyle, and the way you’d heard people talk about him, it wasn’t that bold of an assumption to make that he most likely loved to watch. His tall frame both relaxed and coiled, like a snake waiting to strike. The smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it sent a shiver of heat through you.

"You found me," he said, his voice low and rich, carrying effortlessly over the low hum of the room. “I was wondering if staring was really all you could do.”

"I was looking for you?" you replied softly, trying to match his indifferent composure.

“Unless you stare at everyone with eyes like that…” His smirk deepened, and he took a slow sip from his glass before answering. "…I’d like to think so."

The air between you felt charged, the buzz of the room fading into a distant hum. Up close, his features were even more striking. The faint scar cutting across his eye seemed to catch the dim light in a way that made it all the more mesmerising, and the intensity of his stare was enough to make your breath catch in your throat. There was an oddity about his face, not in the sense that he wasn’t gorgeous, but that he had the features of someone that you could trace with your fingers, memories every little bump, and never meet someone like that again.

“You decided to come up,” he said, his voice smooth and quiet, like a secret meant just for you, "You’re not like the usual crowd, you stand out a bit more." he said after a beat, his eye sweeping over you in a way that felt like he was picking you apart. Judging your worth.

You couldn’t tell if it was malicious or just curiosity, but you glanced down at your clothing regardless, it wasn’t anything as outlandish as what Sara wore but it still fit the vibe; a black denim shorts and tight silk top, with a thicker leather jacket tossed over it. It was appropriate for the situation, even if the tag was digging into your side and you longed to shed it like a second skin.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" You murmured softly, your eyes glancing back up at him with a raised brow.

He tilted his head, considering you for a moment, his eyes openly sweeping over you. "It is."

“Bold,” You tut softly, your eyes sweeping over his face, “Do you usually stare down women in the crowd? Or am I special?”

Aemond's lips twitched into a faint smirk, the kind that felt practiced yet somehow still genuine, like he knew what he could do to people. He didn’t answer immediately, instead letting the tension simmer in the space between you. His free hand coming up to touch your hair, brushing the strands that were hanging down softly, twirling a piece of it around his finger. It sent a shiver down your spine as your eyes flicked to watch his hand, the subtle jingle of his bracelets, before looking back at him – his eye staring at you intensely.

“Special,” he finally said, the single word carrying enough weight to make your chest seize. “If that makes you any more comfortable...” He trailed off waiting for your name.

You gave it as you swallowed hard, the hum of the room growing even more distant, like he was pulling you into his world and the two of you were caught in a bubble apart from everything else.

“Well,” you managed to choke out, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest, “I hope you have more to offer than pretty words and staring, Aemond.” You surprised yourself with the boldness of your own response, the hint of a challenge laced in your tone.

His smirk deepened, the corner of his mouth quirking in a way that was maddening, his free hand dropped back to his side, the one that was holding his half empty glass placing it off to the side as he held your stare.

He liked long silences, and you couldn’t tell if that was hot or if it was going to be infuriating. You watched him with rapt attention as he reached out to you, his fingers lightly holding the edge of your jacket as he tugged you a bit closer to him. His form towering of you as you looked up; his hair creating a curtain as he looked down.

“Oh, I assure you,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, “there’s much more than words where that came from.”

All your mouth could do was part as his used the soft hold on your jacket to switch places with him, his eyes casting around the room before tilting his chin to look down at you; curtains of starlight hair moving as he crowded you back into the wall.

Aemond’s presence was overwhelming, deliberate.

The air between you building and thickening quicker than you could ever imagine, the space between charged with something unspoken but undeniable. The sharp scent of whatever he had been drinking lingered on his breath, mixing with the faint smokiness wafting off his clothing, and it made your head swim. He was delectable.

His fingers, still hooked on the edge of your jacket, tightened just enough to pull you slightly closer, enough to make your breath hitch. Aemond wasn’t just touching fabric, he was anchoring you, claiming the space between you both as his own.

“You seem at a loss for words,” Aemond murmured, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. His voice was velvet, softer than you’d imagine by just looking at him. It teasing but edged with something deeper.

You swallowed softly, his eyes watching with rapt attention as your throat bobbed, “Not lost,” you managed, though your voice betrayed you, softer than you wanted.

His eye flickered over your face, reading you, dissecting every tiny shift in expression. Then, with agonising slowness, he lifted one hand to trace the line of your jaw with his thumb, barely there in its graze, but enough to make you shiver all the same.

“I like you like this,” he admitted, voice dipping lower, dragging over your senses. “You’re like a doe.”

A sharp breath left you, chest rising and falling as he leaned in just enough that his lips nearly brushed yours, but not quite. The heat of him, the sheer intensity in the way he watched you, was enough to set every nerve in your body alight.

“Come out for a smoke with me?” He hummed softly but his words were edged with other intentions, so soft that if he wasn’t right in front of you then the words would be lost to the bar, “If you want to of course…”

“Okay.” you whispered, trying for steady, though your fingers curled against the wall behind you. “Just a smoke, right?.”

Aemond’s smirk deepened, but this time, his restraint frayed. His hand slid lower, tracing down your side before gripping your waist, firm, possessive.

“Maybe.”

And with that, he closed the last sliver of space between you, pulling your hand from behind you.

The night air did little to cool the heat still pulsing under your skin. Every nerve in your body was taut as you stood beside Aemond on the curb, waiting. The street was quiet, save for the occasional distant hum of a car, but all you could hear was the faint rush of your own breath, watching it even as it turned to white smoke in the cold air, coupled with the unsteady thrum of your pulse. You had watched him take his phone out as he tugged you outside, pulling up an app to call a car.

Sara’s face has been absolutely ecstatic as she caught your eye leaving, his body perched on the lap of someone that wasn’t her main conquest, a subtle tongue in cheek push telling you that she was hoping you’d get that and then some tonight.

Aemond exhaled a slow stream of smoke, the ember of his cigarette glowing bright before fading into the darkness. He held it loosely between his fingers, rolling it casually like he had no thoughts in his head, his other hand shoved in his coat pocket.

Despite the casual stance, there was nothing relaxed about him. His presence was deep, brimming with unspoken intent, and the weight of his gaze was heavy when it flickered to you. Sending a fresh wave of anticipation curling through your stomach.

He smirked, lips twitching around the cigarette. “You’re quiet.”

You swallowed, shifting slightly under his stare. “So are you.”

His eye glowed in the low light. “I enjoy a good silence.”

You let out a soft scoff, but there was no real bite to it. Your pulse had yet to settle from earlier, from the way he had pressed you against the wall, the way he had touched you like he knew exactly what you needed before you even did. And now, just standing next to him, you felt like you were on the edge of something again, teetering between restraint and surrender.

Aemond took another drag before flicking the cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot with slow, deliberate movements. When he turned toward you fully, it felt like the air between you shifted, tightening like a drawn wire.

His fingers brushed under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his, his hands a sharp contrast to the freezing air. The touch was light, almost teasing, but it set you alight all the same. His thumb traced the corner of your mouth, lingering for a breath before he spoke.

“You’ll come home with me,” Aemond murmured, not a question, but a quiet, guaranteed statement.

You should have said something, taken a page out of Sara’s book and teased him, made him work for it. But your breath caught when he took a step closer, closing what little space remained between you.

The cab pulled up, but neither of you moved. Not yet.

Aemond’s fingers slid down, grazing your throat, pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. He tilted his head, his lips hovering just above yours, so achingly close you could feel the heat of him. The white of your breaths mixing in the air like smoke.

“Tell me you want this.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his leather jacket, holding on like it was the only thing keeping your knees from buckling. Your heart pounded, a slow, aching thud.

“I want this,” you breathed.

Aemond’s smirk deepened, his thumb teasingly pressing harder on your throat.

“Good girl.”

And with that, he placed a hand firm at your back, guiding you into the cab, into the inevitable.

The elevator ride up to his place was a steamy blur of tension, the kind that buzzed under your skin and refused to let up like you were in a shower room and all you could see were shapes of body and heat.

Aemond was standing beside you the whole time, his towering presence taking up more space than it should, his hands hanging casually down by his sides as if he weren’t fully aware of the effect he had on you - or perhaps he was too aware.

Every bump of the elevator, every jostle of it going up, has his hand brushing against yours; the warmth of it tickling your skin like whispered promises. All while he stood there, every so often looking at you with a look in his eye, a hunger so deep you began to wonder if you were about to be his prey rather than his hook-up.

He was strange, you had assumed he’d jump on you the second he got you alone, pushing up against the rickety metal of the elevator and devour you whole. His tongue feasting on you each patch of flesh at a time.

The silence was muggy, a heat bubbling under the surface that was only broken by the gentle hum of the elevator. There was a need in you that could barely stop you from stealing glances at him. Eyes appreciating him in the stark light of the elevator, seeing him in this light, was completely different from the bar.

There was a delicious sense of want every time you smoothed your eyes over the faint curve of his lips, a pout that seemed permanently etched on his face in a way that made you want to see his lips move in any way that you could, or the way his skin had blemishes that didn’t take away from his beauty. Dozens of little moles and freckles dotted all over his face and neck, all of them you itched to trace your lips over.

It was suffocating, and you imaged if lust between you two had a smoke there would be a lavender haze filling the space; it was mind-numbing but also filled you with such a need that you were curious if there was a possibility of having him take you right against the metal walls.

If he felt the same, he hid it well, almost too well that a small insecure part of you wondered if he was merely playing a trick on you. That the pout you begged to kiss would sneer and tell you to leave, that you were stupid to follow him home.

You knew nothing of Aemond, just a few mumbled words between friends that he was elusive and rather hard to crack and that he was devastatingly gorgeous. But gorgeous men just shouldn’t be trusted, couldn’t be trusted.

When the doors eventually slid open to his home, the view hit you first. The entire far wall of his apartment was glass, lavished with a thick black blind at the top. It revealed the glittering Kings Landing skyline that stretched out infinitely beneath the night sky.

It was a renovated loft apartment, and it was truly a reflection of his style. Edgy yet inviting. Exposed brick and steel beams gave the space an industrial edge, softened by warm ambient lighting and plush furnishings. Worn walnut wood that was glaringly vintage, and sleek leather pieces tied the design together, everything looked lived in but not messy.

Deep forest green and royal blue textiles added a sense of depth and luxury that you didn’t think he’d care for with his taste in music. There was amusement bubbling in you at the carefully curated collection of music memorabilia adorned the shelves, nestled between well-loved books, with framed art, vinyl covers, and concert posters punctuating the walls in sleek black frames.

From your place at the door, you could see that he had a few guitars leaning on a rack by the window, a large turntable next to it that blended well with everything. Dozens of records lining the bottom, all in what seemed to be an organised fashion, it all somehow felt like an extension of him – calculated, precise, personal without giving too much away and just a touch intimidating.

It was enough to make you even forget for a second that he was with you by the door, “You like it?” he asked, his voice low like he didn’t want to disrupt your thoughts, but there was a glimmer of something in his tone.

“It’s... breathtaking,” you admitted, eyes flicking to him briefly, the words slipping out before you could even second guess them.

He was watching you back, his hand outstretched to dump his keys in a random bowl, his jacket draped casually over the back of his breakfast bar stool. Leaving him in just a fitted black shirt that did nothing to hide the sharp lines of his frame.

“It has its moments,” he said with a very hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, stepping closer as he came up to your side; his footsteps quiet yet deliberate and his hand hovering over the base of your spine. “Though I’d argue the view inside is even better tonight.”

You rolled your eyes, though a faint warmth flooding your face. “Bold, are we?”

“I’ve been accused of worse.” He hummed amused, the faint warmth of his presence brushing against your back, grounding you that he was real, “Take a seat, I want to talk to you about something.”

Your chest seized at his words, turning to face him fully. He still smelt delectable; smoky like incense and cigarettes and earthy like the dew on an oak tree, but there was an underlying sweetness to it, a drinkable sweetness, his proximity making your pulse quicken.

God, you wanted to lick his neck and taste him.

The tension between the two of you felt sharper now, like a taut string of one of his guitars waiting to snap. “Talk?”

He nodded, his gaze steady but unreadable, though the faintest hint of amusement flickered in his eye as his lips quivered with something at the corners.

"Yes, talk," he said with a faint drawl, his chin jugging in the direction of his couch, his tone teasing but with a seriousness that didn’t match the smirk tugging at his lips.

The loss of warmth as he stepped away from you felt wrong, his hand brushing against your back as he moved toward the leather sectional couch in the centre of the room. A worn and used, soft-looking blanket thrown over the back.

Your heart was still racing as you followed, an invisible string tugging you along with him. There wasn’t anything in you that was scared of him, but your eyes flickered around the space anyway. It all felt like a snapshot of a world he rarely let people into, and for a moment, you wondered how many others had stood where you were now.

Did he let people wear down his floorboards often or did he keep that door firmly locked?

As Aemond settled into the couch, you saw the same effortless confidence he carried everywhere else, one arm draped across the back, the other resting on his knee; his rings still shining in the low light, the sapphire eyes of the dragon head staring off to nothing on his middle finger.

It was faint but there was something under the surface of him, a nervousness that he was trying to hide, his fingers tapping against his knee before his pointer finger rubbed against the side of his thumb, something in his body calling to pick at the skin out of habit. He was fighting it though, a coolness of his face as he gestured to the seat beside him, his expression softening just enough to make the situation feel less intense than he was presenting it as.

You hesitated only a second before sitting, the leather cool beneath you.

"So," you said, tucking your legs under yourself and turning slightly to face him much to his amusement, "what exactly did you want to talk about?"

He leaned in slightly as he regarded you and got comfortable with you. Up close, the sharpness of his features was even more striking, the hard lines of his jaw that had your fingers twitching in the want to run across each hard line, memorising it for your memory bank.

The glint of something unreadable in his eye, and the faint scar that struct through the other one only seemed to enhance his magnetism. The scared eye was milky, not as vibrant as the other one, but it was still beautiful, the hint of blue that was still there, like cornflower petals in a milky bath.

“You know why you’re here, right?” he said softly, a faint fry to his voice with how quiet he was speaking to you; quiet but firm seemed to be the best way to sum him up.

You blinked at that, your stomach doing a flip at the soft intensity of his tone. “That sounds a little ominous,” you said, trying to keep your voice light despite the rapid thrum of your heartbeat, your fingers nervously picking at the fabric of your tights.

His lips twitched into a faint smirk as he regarded you, a soft tut from his pouted lips.

 “Just answer the question,” he huffed softly, leaning back again into the corner of the couch casually, and observing you with that same measured intensity. “Do you know why you’re here”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment, his demeanour casual but there was something else to it. “I’m under the assumption we’re going to sleep together, that’s all.”

Aemond’s smirk broadened at that but there was something behind it now, humour, sure, but also something sharper, something more intent. His fingers toying with the rings on his right hand, the subtle gleam of metal catching the dim light.

“Clever girl,” He purred softly, the clench in your stomach almost instant at his tone, “I want to lay some ground rules first.” His tone low and steady, carrying a weight that made your pulse quicken even more.

You arched a brow, refusing to be daunted by the intensity of his gaze, though your heart raced all the same. "Ground rules?” you countered; your voice softer now.

His eye flicked over your face, studying you with the same scrutiny that made you feel like he could see far deeper into you than you were comfortable with.

"I think you’ve gathered, I’m a rather… unconventional person," he admitted after a moment, his voice taking on a huskier edge, "I don’t exactly make a habit of bringing women home, for good reason."

You leaned back slightly, crossing your arms over your chest as you regarded him. "Care to elaborate?"

Aemond’s smirk softened into something subtler, a faint curve of his lips that hinted at a side of him you weren’t sure he showed to many.

"I don’t mess around," he said simply his hand reaching out again to move some of your hair out the way, though there was a flicker of something darker in his tone. "If all I wanted was a warm body, I wouldn’t have brought you here, I would have fucked you in that bar and been done with you."

The weight of his words settled over you, heavy and charged; the lust had developed into something more, something darker, but not something unsettling, dare you say it even furthered your interest. The air between you felt impossibly still, like when the forest went silent for a predator in its wake, waiting for what would come next.

"So, what is it, then?" you asked, your voice quieter now, your tone giving way to genuine curiosity. "Why am I here?"

His gaze was cast to your lips as his lips perked up into what you could call a smile, a small huff of air blowing out his nose as he scanned his way back to your eyes, “What if I told you I was into a little more... Intense things than a throwaway one night stand?”

The air between you seemed to thrum, your pulse quickening at his words. There was something deliberate in the way he said it, slow and measured, as though he was testing your reaction, gauging how far he could push before you might pull back.

You tilted your head, your curiosity was now undeniable. “Intense?” you echoed; your voice soft but steady. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that, Aemond.”

His lips quirked into a faint smirk, but his gaze remained fixed on yours, unflinching. “You’re such a precious little thing,” he murmured, his voice low, “and I can’t help but have a soft spot for tearing apart precious little things”

You blinked at that, both intrigued and slightly wary. “Meaning?”

Aemond’s smirk deepened, a glint of something heated flashing in his eye. “Meaning,” he cooed softly, his voice carrying the faintest edge of a threat, though it was tempered by the unmistakable pull of desire in his tone. “I won’t play nice with you sweetheart; I want to make you cry… If you’ll let me of course”

There was a beat of silence that passed over the two of you at that, your heart thudding in your chest like a hammer on an anvil, the thrill of his words coursing through you as you tried to maintain your composure.

 “I think I can handle that,” you replied with a gentle breath.

He leaned forward again, closing the space between you, his hand brushing against your knee with deliberate slowness. “Is that so?” he murmured, his tone teasing but laced with something darker, something that made your skin tingle.

You swallowed hard, your gaze locked on his, the intensity in his words drawing you in even as they sent a shiver down your spine. “I guess you’ll have to show me,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the rapid beat of your heart.

For a moment, Aemond said nothing, his eye searching yours as though he were trying to unravel you, piece by piece. Then, with deliberate care, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Be sure you mean that, sweetheart, I’m not just going to hold you gently and hum into you like some soft puppy.”

Your breath hitched at the feeling of his lips so close, the weight of his words settling over you like a tangible thing. There was no mistaking the warning in his tone, nor the promise. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze sharp, unyielding, and entirely intoxicating. The warmth of his hand lingered on your knee, his touch deliberate but not overbearing, like he was waiting for you to make the next move.

The room felt impossibly still, the quiet stretching between you both like a strong ready to snap. You tried to steady your breathing, though it felt like your lungs had forgotten how to work properly under the weight of his intensity.

“You seem sure that I’ll regret it,” you murmured, your voice low but steady.

Aemond’s lips curved into something resembling a smile, but it wasn’t soft - it was sharp, calculated, and laced with amusement.

“I’m not trying to rattle you,” he said, his voice a soft drawl that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m giving you the chance to leave if you wish.”

The meaning behind his words wasn’t lost on you, and yet you felt rooted in place, unable to walk away even if you wanted to. There was something about him, his presence, his mystery, the dark promise in his tone, that made it impossible to look anywhere but at him.

“And if I stay?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the question carrying more weight than you intended, your noses brushing as you turned your head to look at him. The gaze was intense and heavy, the breaths being passed between you, sharing some kind of charged air.

Aemond leaned in again, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice low and deliberate. “If you stay,” he whispered, “You need to tell me your safe word, baby.”

The words sent a thrill down your spine, your body caught between the undeniable pull of his presence and the weight of what he was suggesting. The way he said it - low, deliberate, almost tender, only added to the magnetic tension that wrapped itself around the two of you, binding you in place.

Your lips parted slightly, your breath catching as you tried to form a coherent response. “Safe word?” you echoed, your voice barely more than a whisper, laced with curiosity and just a hint of nervousness.

He leaned back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression calm yet charged, like a predator toying with its prey. “I told you,” He said, his tone measured but firm, “I’m not like the men you’ve probably been with before. I need to know you’re prepared before we go any further.”

You swallowed hard, the intensity of his gaze locking you in place. “And what happens if I don’t give you one?” you asked, a faint challenge in your tone, though your heart pounded in your chest.

Aemond’s lips twitched into a smirk, his thumb brushing lightly over your knee.

“Then you walk away,” he said simply, though his voice carried an edge that made it clear he wasn’t bluffing.

“Because this…” he gestured between the two of you, the space that felt like it was crackling with electricity “…isn’t something I take lightly. And neither should you.”

You hesitated, your mind racing as you tried to process the weight of his words. There was no denying the allure of him, the intoxicating pull that made you want to step into his world no matter how dangerous it might be. But there was also something comforting in his seriousness, in the way he framed this not as a game, but as something far more deliberate, far more intimate.

After a moment, you tilted your head, “Mercy,” you said softly, the word slipping from your lips with surprising ease. “That’s my safe word.”

Aemond’s smirk softened into something almost reverent, his hand sliding up to cup your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

“Good girl,” he murmured, the words sending a shiver through you. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

The praise, quiet and deliberate, settled over you like a blanket, making your pulse race in a way that was equal parts exhilarating and grounding. You barely had time to process it before he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and far more intimate than you expected. It wasn’t rushed or demanding, it was a promise, one that made your stomach flip with anticipation.

It was a draw of lips together that felt matched, a soft click as they met again and again – a soft breath leaving you as you tried to push forward. He tasted like whatever he drank back at the bar, and faintly like the gum he spat out after his cigarette while the two of you got out of the cab.

The taste bleeding into your mouth as his tongue licked at your lip with a hum. Your hand was grasping at the one he had held at your neck and jaw, fingers brushing over his bracelets, his skin surprisingly warm for someone who looked like the outside would turn them to dust.

Behind it all was a need, a burning disgusting need, your lips parting for his tongue as he licked into your mouth; tickling at your soft palette and sucking softly at your tongue as you played back. He kept drawing you closer, breathing in every single breath he could, his teeth nipping at your lip every time your tongues hid.

When he pulled back, he let out a soft breath, his lips glossy, and his voice a low murmur. “There she is...”

The words hung in the air, weighty and inescapable, as if they sealed an unspoken pact between you. The faint brush of his breath against your lips sends another ripple of anticipation through you. The room seemed to shrink, the rest of the world fading into insignificance as Aemond's gaze held yours, his intensity making it impossible to look away.

It was like a magnet was pulling you back, your chin tilting to bring your mouths closer again but your lips didn’t meet, they only brushed and danced, breaths mixing as you held your gaze.

You breathed out softly, “What am I getting into?”

He only tutted softly, like you would a small child, his hand reaching to brush at your chin endearingly. Aemond studied you for a beat longer, his hand slipping from your cheek to trail down your arm, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made you hyperaware of every inch of yourself.

“Stand up,” he said softly, his tone commanding but not harsh, as though testing your willingness to follow his lead.

You rose without hesitation, his gaze never leaving you as you stood in front of him, so close that the heat of his body warmed yours, his hand up coming to rest lightly on your hip, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the area over your clothing.

“Take off your jacket,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

The simplicity of the command shouldn’t have felt as electrifying as it did, but with him, every word carried a weight that made your pulse quicken. You shrugged off your leather jacket, letting it slide from your shoulders and drop to the floor, your eyes never leaving his.

Aemond’s lips curved into a faint smirk, his eye flicking over you with an almost predatory focus. His hand led the way as he gestured toward the sleek couch. “Sit,” he said, his voice still calm, but with an edge that sent a thrill through you.

You did as he asked, the cool leather of the couch beneath you a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your skin. He remained sitting for a moment, watching you with that same unreadable look.

“This isn’t just about me,” he said, his voice breaking the charged silence. He turned back to you, his expression softer now, though no less intense. “If we’re going to do this, it has to be on my terms, but that doesn’t mean your voice doesn’t matter. Understand?”

You nodded, the seriousness of his tone grounding you, even as your anticipation built. “I understand.”

Aemond’s smirk returned as he reached for your face, his fingers brushing against your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your lower lip.

His smirk deepened, his hand slipping to the back of your neck as he leaned in, his nose dragged softly against your cheek before his lips brushed against your ear. “Don’t worry, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low promise. “I’ll take good care of you.”

The air between you thickened as his words settled, wrapping around you like a velvet tether. Aemond’s hand lingered at the nape of your neck, his touch light but deliberate, his thumb idly brushing the sensitive skin there. He was in no rush, savouring the moment, drawing it out until you felt a need clawing at the back of your throat.

“Can you do something for me, baby?” he said, his tone shifting slightly, the teasing edge replaced by something heavier, more serious, his body straightening so he was sitting tall in front of you, your neck craning to look up. He held out his hand, palm up, waiting for you to take it.

You hesitated for the briefest moment, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. But the intensity in his gaze drew you in, and you found yourself placing your hand in his without a second thought. He drew you up with him and close to his body, the heat between you palpable as his head very slightly craned to whisper to you.

“There’s a door down that hall,” His head jutted to the corridor on the farther side of the apartment, turning off to what you could see was a series of doors, “First one just on the right, go inside and wait for me, hm?”

Your breath caught at the subtle command in his voice, the mixture of calm authority and deliberate softness sending a wave of anticipation through you. His hand remained steady around yours, grounding you as his gaze stayed fixed on yours, unwavering and unrelenting.

You nodded, your pulse quickening as you murmured, “Okay.”

Aemond’s lips twitched into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eye but carried enough weight to leave you momentarily breathless. He released your hand, his fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary before falling to his side. He straightened, his expression calm but laced with a promise you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Good,” he said simply, his voice low. “I won’t keep you waiting long.”

You turned, your legs carrying you toward the hallway he’d gestured to. Each step felt deliberate, the sound of your feet muffled against the sleek flooring. Your mind raced as you reached the first door on the right, your hand hesitating briefly on the handle. There was a flicker of nervous excitement bubbling in your chest, your heart hammering in anticipation. You pushed the door open.

The room was already dimly lit, the soft glow of wall sconces casting a golden hue over the space. The décor here mirrored the rest of the apartment: chaotically put together and understated, with a dark mood. The far wall was lined with more shelving that housed an assortment of neatly organised items; picture frames, polaroids, the odd camera, and books.

The room exuded the same calculated precision that seemed to define Aemond. It was surprisingly clean for a man’s room, but you expected nothing less from him.

You stepped inside, your fingers brushing the edge of the doorframe as you took it in. There was an intimacy to the space, a sense that this room was set apart from the rest of his world, reserved for something singular and private. Your feet padded against the wooden floor towards the plush-looking bed, the black sheets inviting as you sat carefully on the edge. Your breathing was steady but shallow, as you tried not to disturb the neatness of his room, sitting quietly as you turned to face the door, waiting.

It wasn’t long before you heard the soft sound of his footsteps approaching, unhurried but deliberate. The door opened again, and there he was, framed in the golden light. He wasted little time though, and closed the door behind him with a quiet click, his eye fixed on you as he stood by the door.

Aemond’s presence filled the room instantly, the air shifting with the weight of his heated gaze. He didn’t say a word at first, his eye tracing your form as you sat on the edge of the bed; staring at you like were about to disappear at any moment, your hands resting on your lap, fingers fidgeting slightly. The faintest of smirks tugged at his lips as he pushed off the door, the sound of his feet soft against the floor in time with the thuds in your chest.

“Well, aren’t you just a pretty thing,” He hummed softly his voice low as he came to stand in front of you, smooth, and impossibly calm, “You’re nervous.”

Your head tilted up to look at him, your face level with his belt buckle as he looked down at you, his hand reaching out to gently caress your head.

His voice was a mere coo as he looked down his nose at you, “Don’t be. You don’t need to be.”

He was taking in your features in the low light of his room, his hand moving from your head to the side of your face, his thumb caressing the skin as he just merely observed you. His touch was warm and slightly rough from what you could imagine was years of guitar playing, the slight scratch on your cheek grounding you at the moment.

“Lay back for me, pretty girl,” He hummed comfortably, one of his knees coming up to rest by your hip as he pressed forward.

It was like your body was on autopilot, sinking back into the bed as your chin tilted up to look up at him; Aemond followed your movement with a slow, deliberate pace, his fingers trailing lightly over your collarbone as you leaned back onto your elbows, his hand skimming your neck like he wanted to grab and softly press back. Similar to the way you’d guide an animal.

The intimacy of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t quite tell if it was the weight of his presence or your anticipation that made your breath hitch.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice smooth, laced with something that sent heat rushing through you. He climbed onto the bed with ease, his movements controlled and precise.

The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and you felt his hand settle on your hip before sliding down your thigh to grab the plush skin, grounding you further into the soft fabric beneath. His gaze roamed over you, his lips curving into a smirk as he silently appraised you for listening to him. It wasn’t just his words or his touch, it was the way he looked at you like you were his and his alone in that moment.

"You’re being so good for me, baby," he began, his thumb brushing the fabric that covered your thigh, "Can I ask something of you?"

Your breath hitched again, the words catching in your throat before you could respond. His hand slid up your side, barely ghosting over your ribs and dragging the fabric of your shirt up with it, and you felt your heart pounding in your ears.

"Say something," he coaxed, his voice a quiet command as his head dipped lower, his lips barely brushing against your ear. "Or I'll have to guess…"

The closeness of him was intoxicating, and as his fingers played at the hem of your shirt, the pad of his thumb just brushed the skin underneath with a burning intensity that didn’t match the soft action. When you finally found your voice, it was quiet, almost timid, but it was enough to satisfy him.

"Okay," you whispered, your gaze flickering to his face. The corners of his mouth twitched, amusement dancing in his single, stormy eye.

"I want to remember you, baby, can I ask you do to something for me?" His voice was breathy, his thumb pressing slightly harder against your hip like he was trying to keep you as close as possible like you’d ever run away. "Let me film you..."

The air in the room seemed to shift at his words, the weight of his request hanging between you on a delicate thread threatening to snap. You could feel your eyes widen slightly as your brain worked overtime to process what he’d said, your breath catching in your throat. His gaze stayed locked on yours, searching your face for any sign of hesitation or discomfort.

"Only if you’re okay with it," Aemond added, his voice softer now, almost tender. The hand on your hip loosened its grip, his thumb brushing slow, soothing circles against your skin. "The way you look right now, baby, I think you’d be so pretty for me on camera..."

Your heart raced, not just from the intensity of the moment but from the vulnerability in his words. It wasn’t just desire in his eye, it was something deeper, something that made your chest tighten and your resolve falter. He wasn’t just asking for control; he was asking for trust.

"I..." Your voice came out shaky, and you swallowed hard before trying again. "I’ve never…"

"That’s okay," he interrupted gently, his hand moving to cup your cheek. His touch was warm, and grounding. "I’ll take care of you, baby, if it’s too much, just say your word, and we stop. It stays between us."

The sincerity in his tone eased the knot in your stomach, and after a moment, you found yourself nodding. "Okay," you said, your voice steadier this time. "I trust you."

This could potentially be a huge mistake, placing this amount of trust and intimacy in someone you’d only met tonight; but there was something about Aemond that just called to you. Made you forget yourself, and want to indulge yourself more in his hardened image.

His smirk softened into something closer to a smile, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, lingering there for a beat longer than necessary. "Good girl, he murmured, his lips brushing against yours teasingly. "You’re perfect."

With his assurance, he shifted slightly, reaching over to his nightstand, his hand blinding opening one of the drawers to pull out a small but expensive-looking vintage camcorder. It almost looked like a relic of the '90s, but it seemed fitting, just like everything else about him. He was knelt on his knees between your open legs as he fiddled with the gadget.

Aemond handled the camcorder with surprising care, checking the settings like he’d done this a dozen times before the faint whir of the tape winding filled the air, a nostalgic sound that somehow made the moment feel even more intimate. The blinking redlight told you that it was capturing everything that was going on.

Aemond glanced back at you, his eye gleaming like molten steel beneath the dim light. His long, platinum hair, messy from the gig, fell over his shoulder as he tilted his head at you.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, his voice steady as before but with an edge to it that told you that he was taking your feelings into consideration. "If it’s too much, we stop. No bullshit. No pressure."

"I’m sure," you replied, the words carrying more confidence than you expected. You met his gaze, letting him see the truth in your eyes.

Aemond nodded, his lips curving into that familiar smirk again. "Good girl," he said, his tone low and full of praise as he adjusted his position on the bed leaning over and angling the camera just right to sit on the nightstand. "Just keep looking at me, baby. Don’t worry about anything else. It’s just you and me."

And with that, Aemond leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as demanding as it was gentle like he wanted to claim every piece of you. There was something delicious about the way his lips coaxed yours, the way he commanded each smack of your lips with a gentle flick of his tongue; teasing you. The world outside the room faded, leaving only the steady rhythm of your breath and the overwhelming heat of him as he pulled you closer.

The kiss deepened, Aemond's lips moving against yours with a passion that left no room for hesitation. His hand slid to the nape of your neck sliding into your hair and tilting your head back slightly as he explored every inch of your mouth. It was a slow but consuming kiss, like he had all the time in the world to unravel you piece by piece. A soft moan escaped you as his tongue tickled at the roof of your mouth, one you couldn’t quite suppress, and you felt him smile against your lips, a faint chuckle rumbling low in his chest.

"Cute," he murmured with a nip at your bottom lip, pulling back just enough for you to catch your breath. His eye roamed your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and the way your lip shone in the low light of his room, the way your lips parted slightly, and the addictively dazed look in your eyes. "Even prettier like this."

You didn’t have a chance to respond before he was leaning in again, his lips trailing a line of soft kisses along your jaw, his breath skimming your skin down to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. The warmth of his breath against your skin sent a shiver through you, and his grip on your thigh tightened as though he felt it rack through you.

"Aemond..." you breathed, a slight whine to your voice as your hips pushed softly up against his, the feeling of his length through his jeans, not enough friction for you to feel remotely content.

Your voice, trembling and needy, seemed to burn something in Aemond. His lips paused at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make your breath hitch. A low, pleased noise rumbled from his chest as his fingers dug into your thigh, grounding you beneath him and pulling you further into his body.

"You’re something else," he murmured against your neck, his voice rough like a low guitar riff, the heat of his breath fanning against your skin. "So eager for me, aren’t you?"

His murmured words sent a jolt of heat straight through you, and you felt your body instinctively arch into his touch. He didn't stop his lips, however, as they continued their exploration, kissing and nipping down the column of your throat, marking a path that made your pulse race.

When his lips met the hollow of your throat, he paused, lifting his head to meet your gaze. His gaze burning with an intensity that coiled something in your stomach; a mix of desire and something more, something deeper. Your body felt like it was on fire as his fingers traced up the inside of your leg, his middle finger toying with the leg of your shorts. Dipping in teasingly as he smirked amused by your squirming.

“Will you be good for me baby?” He nosed at your jaw softly, tilting your head up like a dog would as he spoke against the bone, this thumb joining the action to stroke the little pudge of fat you had at the top of your thigh as he did; your core clenching in anticipation with his proximity.

If you could see the air between the two of you, you imagined it looked like something struck hot metal; sparks snapping and crackling. He was something addictive that you weren’t sure you’d ever want to give up as every nerve ending in your body attuned to his touch, his voice, the intoxicating weight of his presence.

You could feel Aemond's smirk against your skin as it widened, your breath coming faster, your chest rising and falling beneath his touch. His thumb continued its maddeningly slow strokes, brushing against your skin just enough to tease without giving you the relief you craved.

"I asked you a question, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice dripping with a dark amusement as his lips hovered over your jawline, leaving a snapping kiss that felt like a tease more than a relief. "Will you be good for me? Or do I need to coax the answer out of you?"

The rasp in his tone sent another wave of heat rushing through you. Your hands instinctively clutched at his shirt, fingers gripping the soft fabric like it was the only thing tethering you to reality.

You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat before you managed a quiet whimper: "I’ll be good."

"That’s what I like to hear, baby…" he purred, his hand sliding further up your thigh, past your core and to the waistband of your shorts, his touch deliberate but still torturously slow as he gave them a teasing tug.

"Look at you," he continued as he pulled back, his tone low and rough. "So desperate, so perfect... all for me." His thumb pressed lightly into the skin above the waistband, and the pressure made your hips buck involuntarily into his bulge, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

He chuckled giving a teasing push of his hips against your core, the feeling enough to make you want to wrap your legs around him and rut like an animal. But it was a deep, throaty sound that vibrated against your skin and gave you a slight pause as he moved his lips back to yours, leaving a few biting kisses on your lips like he was trying to placate you.

"Patience, baby," he murmured, his free hand sliding up to cradle your jaw, tilting your face toward his. "I’ll give you what you need, but I want to savour you first."

At that, Aemond pulled back slightly to sit back on his knees between your open legs, as he studied your face. His gaze sharp and alight with a mix of lust and authority. His hands trailed down your body, deliberately slow, fingers grazing over your waist before settling back on your thigh giving a reassuring squeeze. The weight of his touch was grounding, even as his words sent a shiver through you.

"Take this off for me," he commanded softly, tugging lightly at the hem of your shirt. His voice was low, carrying the same deep rasp that sent your heart racing, but there was no mistaking the steel beneath his tone.

Your breath caught in your throat as his words registered. He rolled off to the side of you, his body leaning back with his elbow on the mattress as he expected to take place standing at the edge of the bed, clearly intending to watch. His smirk deepened as he reached for the camcorder, angling it slightly to capture the moment.

"I want to see all of you," he continued his voice a purr; soft and low like he was trying not to interrupt the scene. "Slowly, baby. Let me enjoy it."

The air between you crackled with tension and heat as you got up, your legs trembling from lust as you stood between his parted legs. It was nerve-wracking, looking down at him and the blinking red light, his gaze rolling over your form hungrily.

Your hands trembled as they gripped the hem of your shirt, Aemond’s gaze and the camcorder burning into you; unwavering and unrelenting. He was memorising every move you made.

You hesitated for a moment, your cheeks flushing under his intense scrutiny, however, the heat in his gaze was reassuring, grounding you in a way that made your nerves fade into the background. Slowly, you lifted the fabric, revealing more of your skin inch by inch. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as the shirt finally cleared your head, your hair fluffing around you as you dropped the fabric off to the side like it was nothing. He let out a low hum of approval at the sight of your bare chest, the shirt you wore to his gig not built for wearing a bra under it.

His room wasn’t the warmest in the world as you felt your nipples pebble with the cooler air, and the look of his eyes feasting on each piece of skin you showed. He was laid out like a Greek god and you were his water nymph he was playing with; one of his legs bent on the bed to rest his foot on the edge, widening his stance. All in an attempt to ease some pressure from his erection.

"Good girl," he murmured, his eye raking over you with unfiltered hunger, his hand surprisingly steady with the camera as he let one hand go to palm himself, a flush blooming over your chest and cheeks from the action. "Now the rest for me, nice and slow."

His words, paired with the way he sat back like he had all the time in the world, sent a blooming heat through you. Your hands slid to the waistband of your shorts, emboldened by his words as you caressed your skin on the way, unbuttoning them with deliberate slowness as you followed his command. Each movement felt like a performance under his intense gaze, the weight of his attention making your heart pound harder.

“Look at you, baby,” He sang softly, appreciating you as the shorts slid down your legs and onto the floor, you stood there, bare save for your underwear and tights, feeling simultaneously exposed and powerful under his gaze. “Putting on a show just for me…”

"Perfect," he said softly, almost to himself, before tilting his head to get a better look at you, his platinum hair falling over his shoulder. "The rest of it too, baby, turn around and show me…”

You swallowed thickly at that, the low rasp of his voice sending shivers down your spine as your nipples only pebbled more at his tone. Aemond’s gaze never wavered from your body, his intensity a weight in your chest that kept grounding you in the moment.

You gnawed softly at your lip, hesitating for only a moment before spinning slowly on your toes, letting him drink in every exposed movement. The stillness of the room let you hear his sharp inhale, which was low but unmistakable, a subtle confirmation that he liked every inch of what he saw.

His gaze burned as it followed the curve of your back, your hands moving to the waistband of your tights as he asked. Your body rolled down with them, giving a little wiggle to your hips, as your hands worked on sliding them down inch by inch. The fabric clung to your legs before pooling at your ankles, kicked off to the side and leaving you bare but for the thin piece of cotton that clung to your hips.

As you straightened, your heart hammered in your chest anxious to make sure you were doing good for him, your lip still between your teeth as you glanced over your shoulder at him.

Aemond’s lips parted slightly from behind the camera, his tongue darting out to wet them again like he was restraining himself. "Turn back around, baby…" he murmured, his voice low and rough, the barest hint of a growl behind his words.

You obeyed, slowly turning to face him, your hands instinctively moving to rest at your sides. His gaze roamed over you, lingering at your hips, the lines of your legs, rolling back up over your chest, and finally returning to your face. His smirk deepened, the corner of his mouth quirking upward in satisfaction.

His gaze didn’t waver as he reached out to place the camera off to the side, the red light moving like a star in the sky as he rested it just out of reach but you had no doubt it still had the two of you in view. He didn’t need to say another word in the moment as he held his hand out to beckon you closer, your legs hitting the edge of the bed as his hand rested on your hip, guiding you closer with deliberate slowness.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice a low purr as he leaned back further, his back hitting the sheet this time, spreading his legs just enough to make space for you. "Climb up, baby. I want you right here."

Your heart thundered in your chest as you obeyed, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his thighs. His hands immediately found your hips, his grip firm but not restrictive as you settled into his lap.

The feel of his denim-clad legs beneath you was rough, a stark contrast to the warmth of his touch as his thumbs began tracing slow circles on your skin. He was hard as a rock as he tugged you forward slightly, resting your core over that hardness as you squirmed. Your hands rested softly on his hips for balance as you gazed down at him. His belt buckle was cool even through the thin material of your panties, every breath feeling like it was nudging you further into the cold metal as you fought a small whine that was building in your throat.

"You look so good like this, baby…" Aemond said, his gaze locking onto yours, the hunger in it making you feel like the only person in the world. "So fucking beautiful."

Heat pooled in your stomach as his words wrapped around you, his praise making you feel bolder despite the flutter of nerves in your chest. Your hands moved to rest on his waist, fingers curling in the soft fabric of his tee. His smirk deepened as he felt each little squirm of your hips, the scent of leather and faint cologne wrapping around you like a second skin.

"Move for me," he coaxed, his voice a quiet demand that left no room for argument. His hands guided your hips gently, encouraging you to rock against him, the friction sparking a delicious heat between your bodies. "Just like that, baby. Let me see how good you feel."

A soft moan escaped your lips as you followed his lead, your movements tentative at first but growing bolder as his hands steadied you. The way he looked at you like you were a melody he wanted to memorise, only spurred you on.

"That’s it," he praised, his tone dropping lower, rougher, as his lips brushed against your ear. "You’re perfect, baby, every fucking inch of you."

His fingers slipped higher, grasping the plush of your hips as he pulled you closer, his hips pressing up slightly to meet your movements, a soft moan spilling out your lips as the rough denim of his jeans scraped against the soft crotch of your panties; kissing your clit so deliciously you could help but push back harder, desperate for some friction. His grin turned almost wicked, his voice dropping to a growl as he added, "Let me see all of you, baby."

Aemond’s words curled around you, igniting a fire in your chest that burned and tore through you with every passing second. His eye flicked down to where your bodies moved in rhythm before meeting your gaze again, the intensity in his expression making you feel both vulnerable and unstoppable.

"That’s my girl," he murmured, his hands tightening on your hips, guiding your movements with more purpose. The rough fabric of his jeans against your core only added to the sensation, the friction sparking a need that seemed to consume every thought in your head as soft little moans spilt from your lips.

You tilted your head back at the feeling, your hips moving on their own as he leaned back on the bed, looking up at you with a dark look as he watched you take your pleasure. It was going to be enough to make you cum at this rate, the hardened feel of his length pushing against you and the jeans making the crotch of your panties slicker and slicker as you practically humped him like an animal in heat. He has the smuggest look on his face as your eyes fluttered softly, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip trying to focus on that burning pleasure between your legs.

"Aemond," you whimpered as your eyes fluttered shut, fingers grasping tighter into the fabric of his shirt, the sound of his name on your lips sending a visible shiver through him.

He let out a low, satisfied hum, his hands moving up to cradle your waist as his hips rolled up to meet yours. "Say it again," he demanded softly, his voice like velvet in your ears, "I want to hear you."

"Aemond," you repeated, louder this time, your voice trembling with pathetic whine, the weight of everything you felt in that moment crushing at your chest.

He could only coo at you softly as if your desperation was the sweetest melody he’d ever heard. His lips were carved into a permanent smirk, the kind that made your stomach flutter and your core tighten.

"Look you at you," He cooed, his hands gliding up your sides, his thumbs brushing against the soft skin beneath your ribs appreciatively. "Humping at me like a little bunny."

Your hips bucked instinctively at that, a quiver in your movement as his words settled into you, the friction sending sparks shooting through your body as a needy moan slipped past your lips.

"Aemond," you whimpered again, the sound more like a plea now, your head tilting back as the pleasure coursed through you in waves.

"Fuck, look at you," he growled, his hands tightening their grip on you as he rolled his hips up harder, matching your rhythm perfectly. The sensation was almost too much, the rough denim of his jeans and the wet fabric of your panties creating a torturous friction that had you trembling begging for more. "Do you like that baby, being called bunny?"

Your breath hitched at his question, your movements faltering for a moment as his words wrapped around you. The pet name, soft and teasing, sent a new wave of heat rushing through you, making your cheeks flush. You nodded, unable to form words, your hips resuming their desperate grind against him as your hands fisted tighter in his shirt.

Aemond chuckled, the sound deep and vibrating against your chest as he leaned up, his torso meeting yours, his lips brushing against your ear. "I think you do," he murmured, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "My little bunny, so desperate for me, aren’t you?"

"Yes," you gasped, the confession spilling from your lips without hesitation, your body moving instinctively in search of more of the delicious friction. Your head tilted back again, exposing the length of your neck to him, and he didn’t waste the opportunity. His lips found the sensitive skin there, pressing kisses that were both soft and possessive, his teeth grazing lightly before sucking a mark into your skin.

"My sweet little bunny," he praised, his voice muffled against your neck as his hands gripped your waist tighter, guiding your movements. His hips rolled up to meet yours with each grind, and the pressure against your core sent sparks shooting through you, each one more intense than the last.

You whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders as you felt the tension building in your stomach, the heat coiling tighter with every pass of your hips over his. "Aemond," you breathed, your voice trembling as you clung to him desperately, your body trembling from the effort of holding on to the edge.

"That’s it, bunny," he coaxed, his tone both commanding and tender as his eye locked onto yours. His smirk softened, replaced by something almost reverent as he watched you come undone above him. "Let go for me, show me how good you can be…"

His words stupidly pushed you over the edge, a sharp cry escaping your lips as the burning tension in your stomach snapped and a wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your body shuddered against his, the feeling of your walls fluttering around nothing and your movements faltering as you buried your face in his neck, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Aemond’s hands never left you, steadying you through each shiver of your body, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your temple. "There you go," he murmured, his voice soothing as he ran a hand up and down your back. "That’s my good girl."

You felt his grin against your skin as his fingers toyed with the waistband of your panties, a teasing edge to his tone as he added, "But we’re not done yet, bunny. I want all of you."

As you slumped against him, your body still trembling from the aftermath of your release, Aemond's arms tightened around you, holding you securely in his lap. His breath was warm against your temple, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he pressed a lingering kiss to your hair. The room felt hotter, like someone had turned up the heat as you nuzzled pathetically against him, a gentle needy kiss being pressed to his jaw as you sought out his comfort. Something in his position had you sinking into a different side of yourself, ready and willing to be taken care of by him.

"You’re incredible," he murmured, his tone soft but laced with an undercurrent of need that made your heart stutter. His hands slid down to your hips again, a pat on this skin as he held you steady, leaning back slightly and scanning your face. "But now it’s my turn, bunny”

The heat in his voice sent another rush of anticipation through you, even as your body felt boneless and pliant in his hands. Aemond’s hands slid up your sides, his touch firm yet tender as he guided you to kneel on the bed.

"Good girl," he praised, his gaze burned into yours, filled with a mix of affection and hunger as he reached for the button of his jeans. "Come on, bunny. I want you to do the honours."

"Stay just like that," he instructed, his voice low and commanding, the dark edge of it sending a thrill down your spine. He moved off the bed, the mattress dipping slightly as he moved to stand at the edge, the camcorder now firmly in his grip. His eye roamed over your form, appreciation burning in his gaze as he adjusted the angle of the lens to frame you perfectly.

As you helped him shimmy out of his jeans the fabric resting at the middle of his thigh, the bulge beneath his boxers became impossible to ignore. He was bigger than you thought, and you’d already humped yourself silly on him, his black boxers did nothing to hide that he was bigger than you’d taken before, thicker too as you spotted a small wet patch on the fabric from where he was clearly leaking. Your gaze flickered up to meet his as you spotted it, and the smirk that curved his lips made your cheeks burn with equal parts excitement and shyness.

"Don’t get shy on me now," Aemond teased; his voice a low purr as he guided your hands to the waistband of his boxers, your hand skimming past his length. "You’ve been so good for me, bunny. Show me how much you want to keep being good."

Swallowing hard your fingers curled into the elastic of the waistband, and with a breath you tugged the fabric down, freeing him from the confines of his boxers. The sight of him, hard and already glistening with evidence of his arousal, made your breath hitch. He was too heavy to stand attention, the sigh of his hanging between his thighs had your core burning even more as you imagined how exactly it was going to feel to take it. Aemond groaned softly as the cool air hit him, trying his best to keep the camera steady as he pointed it down at you.

"That’s my girl," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Now, come here."

Your cheeks flushed, the weight of his gaze, and the camera lens and the red light, made you feel exposed in a way that was both thrilling and intoxicating. You shifted on your knees, leaning forward slightly, your body arching instinctively to give him a better view as you looked up at him.

"You can touch bunny," he growled against your lips, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Show me how good you can be for me."

Aemond groaned as you watched your hand hesitantly come up to grasp him. He was heavy in your palm, your fingers barely meeting as you gave him an experimental tug, the skin silky smooth as you looked at him properly; he was unfairly pretty down there, his head flushed the same colour as his lips as you spotted small droplets weeping from the tip.

You could tell that he was letting you take the wheel on this one, his gaze and the camera staring down at you as you softly started moving your wrist over him. He let out a soft groan at that, your eyes blinking up at him for any sort of praise as you did, the tears from his slit sliding down with each stroke aided in the movement – lubricating each tug as his breathing picked up slightly.

"Good girl," he praised, the words a growl as he pushed his hips closer, the camcorder capturing every inch of you while he did. “You can taste, bunny, I know you want to.”

And boy did you want to.

The red light recording you became just another part of your vision as you kept eye contact with the lens, your lips parting slightly to place a soft kiss on his weeping tip – the groan that he let out at the contact was almost enough to have your eyes rolling slightly but you held it together. There wasn’t any other thought in your head at that moment, your mind focused purely on hearing that noise again. Aemond seemed to be enjoying the simplest of touches, his breathing picking up softly at your tongue flicked out to lick softly at his tip.

"Fuck," he breathed out quietly, one of his hands coming to rest on the back of your head as you pressed a soft kiss to his tip, his fingers sinking into your hair as he tugged your head forward a little more; a small giggle passing your lips as you kept your eyes on him, "You’re going to put me in an early grave, bunny."

With head soft tug of your hair, you could tell that he was coaxing you to take him in your mouth, the feel of his pre-cum making your lips glossy in a way that had his face flushing with want behind the camera. The feeling of erotic, and despite being unsure to begin with, you’d never felt more wanted by someone at that moment, that’s why you had no issue parting your lips for him and slowly sinking him into the wet heat of your mouth. A soft moan passed your lips as his musky taste hit your tongue, and the silky-smooth skin glided him in as far as you could handle; a soft gagging sound slipping out as his fingers tightened in your hair.

“That’s it…” He groaned out softly, his fingers quivering in your hair as you gave a soft suck, your cheeks hollowing out and your tongue lavishing his length as you pulled your head back, “Pretty, pretty girl…” He said as the camera angled more towards your mouth.

You could hear the sound of the camera zooming in as you kept moving slowly up and down his length. A soft gagging sound every time he hit the back of your throat drowned out by the sound of his breathing and airy moans, your hand stroking what couldn’t fit. You imagined it was an erotic sight, made even more by the fact he was filming everything like you were some video vixen.

“So, fucking good bun,” He moaned softly, unashamed at any noises spilling out that pout, his hand tightening in your hair to get you to speed up slightly. “Taking me in your mouth like a good girl…”

Every time you sank down, he held you there a little longer, your nose nearly touching the base as you gagged around him. His teeth grit at the feeling, the wet cavern of your mouth doing wonders for him, made all the better by the drool dribbling out the corners of our mouth. He wasn't forcing you down though, you could still move away if you wanted to, and every time you pulled back you panted softly for air. Your lips kissing softly at his tip while you caught your breath.

When he pulled you back in, you could tell there was an air of something desperate about him as he groaned a bit louder, sinking in and out of your mouth with more intent, more purpose. His hand tugged more at your hair as he began to move you more and more.

“Let me fuck that mouth, bun,” He panted softly, his stomach tensing every so often like he was holding something back, your eyes glazed and looking up at him. “Will you?” He asked breathily like he was whispering to the sick part of your brain directly.

From everything that had happened so far, you knew that you were safe with him and that he wouldn’t hurt you, and the sick part of your brain was ready to give everything up for him and just let him use you how he wanted. At your lack of answer, he pulled you off him, a soft pop as he slid out of your mouth, his free hand moving to wipe the drool off your chin.

“Bunny,” He murmured, tilting your chin farther up – his body leaning away from you for a second to place the camera back on the nightstand, “You with me?”

You could only nod, a small smile on your face, “I am, sorry… I was just thinking.”

“Thinking?” He smirked softly, tapping your chin affectionately, “Is my cock not pleasing enough to you, bunny?”

The flush on your face burned harder at that, your teeth nibbling at your lip as you tried to look away – a bit embarrassed to be caught so in your head at the stupidest of times. He was all over you, his taste in your mouth, his touch on your skin – it was addicting, to say the least. He was too beautiful, and that needy voice in your head begged, pleaded and cried to just let him have you any and all ways.

“I want you to fuck my mouth,” You mumbled softly, a shy twinge to your voice like you were ashamed to even be admitting that you wanted it, blinking at him like you could communicate with just your eyes.

“What do we say when we want something, bunny?” He smirked, his hand grasping your chin a bit tighter as he bent at the waist to level with you, looking down his nose at you, “Use your big girl words now, I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

The desperation and the humiliation clawed at your throat, the burning between your legs leaving you stupidly uncomfortable, your thighs squeezing together on the bed to try and ease that feeling.

“Please,” Your voice was little, barely there, like the words were just another breath out but he wasn’t having that, his hand tightening again as his eyebrow raised silently. “Aemond, please…” The desperation crawled out your mouth in the form of a whimper, pathetic and needy like yourself as it spilt out.

The tut that left his lips was humiliating, something you’d do at a pet that was misbehaving or you were displeased with, his thumb brushing against your skin tauntingly as he gazed at you, “That wasn’t so hard now was it, bunny?”

The fact all of this was on camera didn’t help either, the red light on the nightstand taunting you from the corner of your eye.

“Sweet little thing,” He patronised you softly, craning your head up as far as it could go as his hand squeezed your mouth open, lips parting with a soft breath, “You need to be good and ask for things, bunny…”

The word sorry died on your tongue as you looked at him, he didn’t want your words right now.

“I’ll use that pretty mouth of yours,” He cooed, the words filled with taunt and want equally as he looked at you amused, “Open your mouth wider for me.”

If he told you to jump off a cliff right now, you believed that you would, your mouth opening wider under his hold with a slight “Ah” noise.

The amusement danced in his gaze at that, “Tongue too, bunny…”

He let out a soft hum as your tongue peaked out of your mouth, appreciative that you could in fact listen to him, his head leaning down closer to you as his gaze shifted from your eye to your open mouth.

“Keep it nice and wide,” He breathed softly, a subtle squeeze to your jaw pinching it just ever so slightly wider as he hovered over the open cavern, “There we go…”

You could already tell what he was going to do before he even spoke, his tongue rolling in his cheek slightly with a dark look, his lips pursing softly. Time stopped in that moment though, as you watched a glob of spit drip from his mouth to yours, the feeling viscous and wet on your tongue as you moaned out from your open mouth. He could only quirk his mouth at that as he stood back to full height, hishands reaching to shed his shirt.

“Keep that there, bunny,” He commanded softly as his free hand grasped his cock again, giving it a little tug for good measure before it hovered near your mouth, “You’ll get what you want.”

“If you need to breathe or you want me to stop, pinch my thigh, bunny,” He directed gruffly, his tip skimming your lips as you let out a noise of understanding, “Relax for me.”

Your hand flew to brace itself on his thigh as he slid back into your mouth, both of his hands moving to sink into the back of your hair as your lips sealed back around him. The moan he let out was euphoric as his head tilted back slightly, his hair shaking softly down his back as his hips sawed back before pushing forward. The gag was stronger this time as each thrust left his tip kissing the back of your throat, the slick suckling noises filling the space as he moved freely in and out of your mouth at his own pace.

The groans and moans he let out with each thrust were beautiful, you’d never been with such a vocal man before, and he was letting you know it was enough every second of it as you sucked harder around him. He had left you were a free hand of your own, the one that was bracing on his thigh grasping his skin tightly as he used your mouth with abandon, your free one was yours to do as you pleased.

The panties you were wearing were thoroughly soaked through, the gusset of them just a sop of fabric you were wearing as the burning increased, your eyes flicking up to his tilting head as you caressed your thigh and upwards.

With your moans picking up, each wet stroke of your fingers combined with the increased thrusting into your mouth, it was no given that Aemond was curious about what you were doing. His head tilted back to look at you with a stupidly amused look, a smirk painting his lips as he continued to patronise you.

“Filthy little thing,” He chuckled through a moan, his eyebrows raised slightly with pleasure as his lips parted watching you touch yourself while he used your mouth, “I’ll allow it for now.”

He seemed to enjoy the moan that vibrated around him, a groan of his own passing his lips as your hand sunk into your panties. It took microseconds to slide your fingers over your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts to ease the pleasure burning between your thighs.

“Good girl…” He breathed, his hips moving a bit quicker into your mouth as you touched yourself, your eyes shut as you focused on the stimulation of your mouth and your fingers, “You like that, bun?” He chuckled faintly.

“I bet you do…” He hummed, his fingers tightening in your hair starting to move your head how he wanted a bit more.

And boy, did you.

While your fingers weren’t pushing you towards another peak, they were turning this experience into something so filthy that you were sure you’d dream of it for years to come. The feeling of drool dripping down your throat, and your eyes watering as you gazed up at him. He was so invested in your mouth, his grunt and hisses tickling your brain as he met your eyes. A filthy smile on his lips as he sped up slightly, his eyebrows pulling with feeling.

“Will you let me cum in your mouth, baby?” He breathed out, the sound so airy that you barely caught it.

With your mouth a little preoccupied, all you could do was moan around him needily, the thought of him filling your mouth had you fluttered around nothing. Your fingers picked up with his hips as he forced himself more and more into your mouth, the gagging noise getting louder as his tip kept kissing your throat.

He gave you some reprieve as he pulled you off him slightly, your chest heaving and mouth swollen while you gave you a second to breathe. Your lips glossy with his precum as you looked up at him with heavy eyes. The moment was over before it could begin as he sunk back into your mouth, his hand moving off your head for a moment to brush a tear away from your watery eyes before getting back to it.

His stomach was clenching right before your eyes as he lost himself in the feeling of your mouth, his grunts getting breathless and needy. You were nothing but a vessel for his pleasure but you loved every second of his, your finger on your clit basically forgotten as you worked on suckling and lavishing your tongue over him.

His noises were getting louder and louder, his own eyes shut with a twist on his face; he was truly beautiful like this, “Fuck, baby…”

You would have giggled if he wasn’t filling your airways, the feel and taste of his precum stronger as he leaked into your mouth.

You could have stared at him for hours, sat with his cock in your mouth for the rest of time if I meant seeing him like this, but fate was cruel in its own ways.

The subtle tightening in your hair told you what was going to happen before it could, his hips snapping a few more times before he hissed loudly.

“Fuck.” He practically snapped, a final moan coming from you as he filled your mouth.

It sent your eyes rolling slightly as he landed in your mouth, some of his cum slipping down your throat and most of it on your tongue as he drew his cock out of your lips. His hand instantly flew to your jaw with a feral look in his eye to keep your mouth open.

He softly squeezed at the bone to keep it propped open as his lips parted, a soft chuckle coming out as he watched you roll his spend on your tongue slightly.

“Look at you…” He smirked softly, his hand forcing your head up more, “So pretty with me in your mouth…”

He placed a knee on the bed to get closer to your level, his body curling over yours as you smiled slightly, sticking your tongue further out for him to see what lay there. You were sure you looked a mess, spit on your chin and tears down your face, your lips throbbing slightly from use. But none of it mattered in that moment if it meant he kept looking at you like he was.

“Messy…” He chuckled with his lips hovering over yours, glancing between your eyes and mouth before his lips curled.

An honest shocked noise slipped out as his lips met yours, eyes slipping shut with a moan as his tongue slipped into your mouth; curling around yours and his spend as you swallowed some of it. It was disgustingly hot the way your lips met, the taste of him passing between the two of you as he laughed against your mouth, something feral bleeding into the tone as you rose up onto your knees with him.

Holding yourself up with his waist, the two of you exchanged spit and kisses with wet noises that would make anyone burst into flames. The kiss was intense with something so hot that you were surprised when he pressed forward, his arm slipping around your waist to tumble you both onto the best. Hands grabbing at skin, his own sliding into the back of your underwear to start shoving it down.

“Off.” He grunted with a bite to your lip, leaving no room for argument.

It was a haste to let go of him, his hands aiding yours to shove the offensive fabric down, caring little where they landed as they got pushed down your thighs and kicked off your foot. His hand was harsh on your thigh as yours sank into his hair, tugging with intent as he grunted into your mouth, biting your lip in retaliation for the tug.

Both of you were panting as you pulled apart, his eye dark as he looked at you flush and laid out in his sheets. His hand squeezing your thigh slightly with a tut, as he looked between you and the middle of the bed, a silent command to move.

You’d laugh at the power he had over you if you didn’t do what he said instantly.

It was like there was something lodged in your throat as you crawled backwards on his sheets, the softness against your skin doing nothing to ease the heat rising in you as he pressed and pressed you back – your body laying out like his own personal buffet. He was quick to secure your knees in his hands as he knelt between your parted legs, whistling lowly, mockingly, as he glanced down at your wet folds. Staring like he currently wasn’t standing at full mast.

“Poor thing…” He drawled with an amused smile twitching at his lips, his palms rough and warm against your thighs as they brushed up, the silver of his rings warmed to his skin, “So needy and for what? You couldn’t even get yourself off…”

The whine that bubbled in your throat with his teasing was pathetic, akin to a wounded animal as he jested at your dismissed orgasm. You ached so badly to close your thighs and relieve the fading burn, uncomfortable with the cool breeze hitting your wetness like a kiss from winter.

“I was playing so nice with you, bun…” He tutted softly, one of his hands letting go of your thigh to brace himself by your shoulder, sinking into the mattress as he hovered over you with a look that you could only describe as hungry. “But you got greedy, didn’t you?”

His eyebrow twitched at you as he repeated himself, your eyes gazing up at him, a soft sheen in your eyes as your frustration built, “Didn’t you, baby?”

He chuckled softly as your face twisted in discomfort, a crackle in your voice as you found the courage to reply, “Aemond…”

Oh, it was a desperate whine.

Oh, how he ate it up.

His chuckle was more of a taunt as he pressed his body closer to yours, skin warm as it touched, his nose drawing over your jawline as he breathed you in. Your own eyes fluttered as the caress of his warm breath, your core clenching as one of his hands dragged up your thigh, fingers edging its innermost parts like he would the frets of his guitar.

“Now, now…” He hums softly, laying a soft kiss on your jaw, chuckling as he drags his lips down your neck, more soft kisses being pressed every so often, “Ask nicely, and I’ll give in to your greed…”

His fingers brushed your inner thigh like a whisper, moving just enough to feel the texture as they ghosted up, palm spanning the skin.

Your breathing was shaky in its own right, your own hands drawing up his sides and to his back, feeling him properly as he played with you, your breath moving the soft hairs by his temple.

“Please,” You swallowed thicky, your nails sinking into his skin, “Aemond, please…”

Part of you wondered if maybe he was summoned from whatever lustful circle of hell demons resided, his touch closer to feeling like you were falling over the edge as he held you over it by a string.

“Good girl…” He hummed warmly, his teeth nipping at your neck in retaliation for the grab, his tongue swiping over the skin to soothe his bite, “You make everything so hard for yourself…”

If you hadn’t already laid your sins out bare for him to pluck at, to video, you’d be utterly ashamed of yourself at the way you keened when his fingers slid over your folds. An amused noise passed his lips on your neck as he drew up the same way someone would turn the pages of a book. Delicately, with the purpose of knowing what else there was on the next page.

His lips were as sinful as his hands as he laid kiss after kiss on your neck, biting with what would be violets blooming on your skin. The ache of the bite caused your head to drop back onto his sheets with soft pants, giving him the space he needed to paint his pictures.

“You’re practically drooling…” He taunted you, as a soft pleasured breath left your lips, his middle finger rough from strings ghosting over your clit – a warm shot of lightning catching in your stomach. “All for me?”

All you could do was nod as he grinned against your skin, his middle finger delicately brushing over your clit in soft strokes; his knee drawing up to the underside of your thigh to push your leg open further, a flower blooming. There was the familiar burn that spread from your clit and radiated up your abdomen with the tease of his middle finger, switching between a soft caress to a rub circle around as he pushed and pushed and pushed.

Your hips were squirming on the bed, trying to push yourself further into his touch so he’d fully give in, but with each movement, he jutted his hand back enough to keep you at the very edge of his touch. He was playing a game with you, even though you had pleaded for his touch, trying to see how many ways he could make you beg before he gave in. Even without words, his actions were enough that a part of you wanted to push him back, sink your teeth into his shoulder to see how he’d react.

He'd most likely like that thought.

“Please…” It was said a subtle turn of your head, your lips ghosted over his temple, breathing him in like he did you. “Please be kind, I…”

“Kind?” He tutted softly, his lips dragging down your collarbone, pressing a kiss to the top of your breast, “I told you I wasn’t going to be kind, baby…”

Your hand sank into the back of his hair, tangling in the soft strands as your chest pushed up towards his lips, your breathing hitching with the tingle of your skin.

Soft moans and breaths were spilling from your lips like you were resigned to haunting his room from now on; a single hand would be marked on your grave as cause of death with his name next to it. His touches a signature to the absolute dissolve of your sanity.

It wasn’t mercy he was taking on you, it was the attitude that he had to take you apart piece by piece as he grinned against your skin. His middle finger pressed forward first, grazing past your clit to sink down, notching at your entrance as he wiggled his finger there teasingly.

“Is this what you wanted?” He grinned, looking up at you from your chest, “Use your words…”

“Yes…” You breathed pathetically, his finger barely sinking in before it drew back out, the feeling of your walls fluttering around empty space driving you mad. “Gods, yes…”

He seemed pleased with your pleas, his teeth affectionally nipping at your nipple as he finally sank his finger in, your lips parting with a soft moan as your walls fluttered around every bump. His hands were so much bigger than yours, built for playing guitar and generally rougher from actual work, and from the feel of his middle finger, you were ready to give in.

The digit moving and sinking with a languid pace, curling teasingly to brush that rough patch inside you.

“So needy…” He cooed teasingly, his lips kissing back up your chest and neck to whisper in your ear. “It’s cute, baby…”

If you were sane, you would have died at the noises coming from between your legs with each sink of his finger – your mind not even on the camera at the moment as his thumb started to graze your clit again, the quiet room filling with that familiar clicking noise of wetness. Your head barely turned to meet his next to you, your eyes locking as you saw just how dark his eye had gotten with playing with you; your noses knocking together as he breathed you in. Lips barely touching as his finger started to curl more.

“You're soaked…” Aemond hummed softly as your eyes fluttered, a hitching breath leaving your mouth as he grazed that spot. “You think you can take another one, baby?” He teased softly, a nipping peck on your lips.

Before you could respond, he tutted, an amused breath pushing out his nose, “I don’t know why I’m asking, you will take another one.”

A part of you wondered what circle of hell crafted him, the way his lips parted mockingly with yours as he sunk another finger in – a taunting look in his eye that only added to the pleasure as he curled his digits experimentally. The feeling of your legs twitching on the bed and your hand flying down to hold his wrist was humiliating, his rings nudging your entrance with each flick of his wrist. Wanton moans spilling out as he got a little faster with each flick.

He wasn’t a lover that talked you through it, he was a lover that just talked to you, stirred you up and broke you down.

“You’re so tense, baby…” He chuckled, nipping at your bottom lip, “I thought you wanted to come?”

It was a needy strangle in your throat as you resigned yourself to the feeling of his fingers starting to get faster and faster. The delicious fluttering of your walls, coupled with the nudging of his rings, had you wishing that you could get him to sink all the way in with the rings too.

You knew being a guitarist was benefitting him at that moment, the way his arm was tensing without cramping as he did ‘come hither’ after ‘come hither’ motion inside you, your walls fluttering and tensing around him.  All the while, his thumb flicked at your clit the same way he probably plucked his guitars, just enough to get you to sing.

If the way your slick noises and breathy mewls filled the room, he knew how to make you sing for him. His eye burned into you, his voice low with his lips brushing the side of your face as he spoke of all the things he goaded you more.

“Doing so good for me, bun…” He chuckled softly, his lip dragging down your neck and nipping whatever skin he could; his praise shooting through you like a star falling out of the sky. “You were always going to be good for me though, weren’t you?”

The nod you gave in response was washed with sweat and desperation as your hips started to push up into the feeling of him. The burning in your lower stomach started to radiate and spread with each cruel and slick flick of his hand. Your fingers kept digging into his skin, no doubt leaving your marks behind. You were seeking something, anything, to ground yourself as the heat of pleasure rolled through you, the feeling starting to spread down your thighs. The noises you made got more and more desperate with each clench of your walls, threatening to pull you under entirely.

“You gonna let go for me, hm?” Aemond was right there with you, gaze dark with desire, his breath warm against your neck as he murmured.

His voice was low, coaxing, but laced with something sharp—control barely held together as he watched you unravel beneath him. His fingers didn’t falter, working you over with devastating precision, pushing you closer, closer—until the tension inside you felt unbearable.

Aemond shifted, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, nipping softly at the lobe. “I can feel you,” he murmured, voice rough with taunt and heady pleasure. “So close, just let go, bunny…”

The words sent a shudder through you, cries starting to fill the room as the pressure in your cunt grew. When his fingers found that perfect spot, curling up in a way that left no room for resistance, your body answered him. It was like something had snapped something inside of you, the heat flooding every nerve as you spilt around his fingers.

The familiar wetness of your release pushing out, and the way your gummy ways clamped down; pleasure tearing through you in waves. You barely registered the sound of your broken moans and sobs of his name, the way you trembled in his sheets, held firm by his touch, by him.

Aemond groaned, his grip tightening as he felt you come apart beneath him. His lips finally found yours again, licking into your mouth and swallowing every gasp, every cry, as if he wanted to devour the feeling right along with you.

“You’re perfect like this,” he whispered against your mouth, his tone slightly softer now, reverent almost as his fingers slowed. The moans coming out of your mouth softened too as you shook in his sheets still, the familiar dampness coating your thighs cooling with the air. But the hunger in his gaze hadn’t dimmed - not in the slightest.

And you knew he wasn’t done with you yet.

The moment’s reprieve he gave you from your last orgasm was more for his benefit than yours, his stance ever smug as he stroked your hip softly; his form lounging next to you like a deity, like he hadn’t just blasted you into another dimension.

It was an intimate embrace, or as close to it as it could get. Your head turning toward him, gaze hazy, reverent, like one might look at a saviour. But there was nothing saintly about him. No, he was not benevolent in any pure sense of the word. He was a giver, yes, but perhaps too much of one. If the trembling in your thighs and the stray tears tracking down your face were anything to go by.

“Don’t give me that look…” Aemond chuckled deeply, his hand reaching to brush your cheek, “I’m not even close to being done with you yet, our night is just starting…”

“You’re going to kill me.” You breathed softly, your own hand coming up to touch his, fingers spanning his wrist as you stroked it delicately.

Your fingers traced along his wrist, feeling the steady pulse beneath his skin as if trying to ground yourself in him. A man who had so thoroughly unravelled you. Your touch was delicate. “And I think you’ll enjoy it.” He retorted.

Aemond huffed his first real laugh to you all night, but it wasn’t at the joke, it was at you. His eye was nefarious as he leaned down close to your face, glancing at you with a look you couldn’t place.

His look alone sent a shiver down your spine, anticipation curling low in your stomach, even as exhaustion clung to your limbs. You should have been spent, should have been begging for rest, but the way he looked at you, like something precious and breakable yet utterly his, had you curled toward him before you could stop yourself. Needy for his heat.

Aemond was too pleased with himself at your closeness, his fingers drifted lower, tracing the hollow of your throat, pausing where your pulse fluttered wildly beneath his touch. His smirk deepened, his thumb pushing softly on your windpipe – it wasn’t to choke you, more to keep you in place and at his command.

Your breath hitched, your fingers tightening around his wrist, but you didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. Aemond leaned in, pressing the softest kiss to your jaw, a low mumble against your skin as he spoke.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured against your skin, his lips dragging down the line of your throat, teeth grazing but never quite biting, he had left his purple flowers earlier. “Are you tired?” He taunted.

You swallowed hard, your throat moving over the subtle press of his thumb as words slipped past your lips before you could stop it.

“No.”

His chuckle was low, and he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his own filled with something delicious. “Good,” Aemond murmured.

There was a slight pause as he took you in, undoubtedly looking at the flush colouring your face, or the way your pupils expanded to the point of looking like black wells. For a moment, a brief flicker, you could have sworn that there was something on his face that went beyond pure lust – but whatever it was, it didn’t linger. Something in his eye snapped back to his usual form, and his words tumbled out like silk between his lips.

“You’ve already given me so much,” he murmured, almost thoughtful. Then, a wicked grin. “But I think you can give me more.”

The pressure of his thumb dragging down your throat and back to your hip was humbling, the way something so small could have you ready to kneel so quickly. But whatever you could say about it was taken, his hand spanning your hip to pull you towards him on your side, the familiar feel of his cock hardened against your stomach reminding you that it in fact was not over in the slightest.

“Get up.” He demanded softly, his hand giving your side a final squeeze before he shifted himself.

There was an air of confusion as you watched him move to lay his back against the headboard, your eyes flickering to the camera on the bedside as his body stretched out with legs slightly spread. Aemond had a look in his eyes that told you that getting up was no argument, that the shaking in your thighs and the tiredness behind your lids wasn’t to stop you.

There was an air of silence that was building, your eyes watching as his hand brushed down his stomach briefly to grasp himself again, his own pleasure now on the forefront of his mind as he slowly stroked.

“I won’t ask again.” His voice was low but firm, hand moving casually like he wasn’t stroking himself, “Move.”

It was with a small sniffle that you got out, you weren’t really sad nor upset with the situation, just tired as you sat up; legs curling under you briefly before you crawled on the sheets towards him. His eye was positively wicked in the dim light as he looked at you crawling to him, his free hand reaching out to adjust the camera on the bedside to get all of you as you got to his parted thighs. Body kneeling between them patiently.

There was a beat of stillness before his free hand moved to reach out to you, your own hesitating slightly on your thigh before grasping it. He hummed softly as he tugged you forward, looking up slightly as you rose on your knees, letting go of your palm to smooth down your hips and tug you even further forward. It was a sign to straddle him.

His cock was laying heavy on his stomach as he let it go, both hands moving and grasping your hips as your knees raised to rest either side of him; sliding to your backside slightly to squeeze and coax you into sitting down. He shushed you softly as your sensitive core touched him, hands sliding up to your waist to press you as close as possible while your arms slid around his neck; his hair still as soft as ever as it slipped over your skin.

“You’ve been so good for me bun…” He hummed, his thumb brushing your skin maddeningly, “But you know what I want you to do right?”

A soft puff of air passed out your lips as your hips lazily moved against his cock, your core fragile to the touch after 2 climaxes and touching. It basically had its own heartbeat at this point. Gentle whines building in your throat as he chuckled, amused by your behaviour.

“Oh…” He chuckled deeply, guiding you a little, “You’re so close, baby but not quite.”

“I need a little longer.” You whimpered softly, your head dipping down to nuzzle at his cheek, “Please…”

“Do you?” He teased with a turn of his head, meeting your lips briefly, “I think you don’t, baby, be good now…”

Before you could stop it, a huff came tumbling out of your mouth like a spoilt child – the noise so clear that your eyes widened quickly before registering what you’d done. You couldn’t even get the sound of an apology out your mouth before you felt a force quickly smack down on your behind, an undignified noise tearing out your mouth as the sound of smacked skin filled the room.

The heat bloomed on your backside as you looked at him, shocked, one of your hands moving to cover the area as he gave you a heated look.

“I was planning on being at least a little nice to you, baby.” He scoffed softly, slight heat to his words as he knocked your hand away from your behind, “But you just had to go and be a little brat about it, hm?”

A slight whine came out as your eyes softened, “I’m sorry, I—”

“You what?” He taunted, this thumb brushing over your heated skin, his hand quickly raising again to smack back down without even blinking, “Try harder.”

“I’m sorry…” You bubbled softly, your eyes stinging slightly at the thought of disappointing him that you reached out to touch his face, his chin jutting away slightly with a chuckle. “I didn’t mean it, I just… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” He repeated with a slightly raised brow, his eye scanning your face with a dark look, “You’re sorry, baby, you didn’t mean it?” He mocked you slightly, adding a whine to his voice to really drive the point.

“Let me make it up to you…” You gulped softly, hands dragging down his chest as you pressed forward with glossy eyes, “Please…?”

The startle you got as he laughed was slight, the sound so deep and rich that you wondered what exactly was funny about what you said. You could only look at him confused as he pulled you further into him, his cock nudging at your folds, head tilting up to look at you with a grin.

“Baby, you don’t have to ask to make it up to me…” He taunted you softly, hand grabbing at your sore cheek for emphasis, “You’re going to.”

Whatever breath you had left in your lungs hitched as you looked at him, his eyes taunting you to see if you’d use your safe word or not. But no part of you wanted to, you wanted to push and push to see just how exactly he could put you in your place. The idea of him breaking you down was as delicious as Eve being called to the apple. With a thick gulp, you nodded, your hand reaching between the two of you with parted lips as you grasped at his cock; the appendage giving a subtle throb as your fist closed around him.

You knew exactly what he wanted you to do, and no part of you was ready to say no to him anymore as you raised up onto your knees; eyes flickering down slightly wondering just how you were going to take him. He was big, bigger than you’d had before that much was clear, lengthy with enough girth that you were sure he’d fill you lusciously. There was a slight hesitation as you lower yourself down, grabbing him slightly through your folds to catch on your clit with bated breath, fingers edging him further down to sit at your entrance.

All the while he looked at you like you were his last meal, his lips parted and eyes dark as he watched you hover over him with a subtle sway of your hips. A stuttered breath passed out your lips as you started to sink down, a soft noise forced out with the delicious ache of taking him. Centimetre by centimetre, you felt your body make space for him in your gummy walls; the fluttering of the intrusion caused a groan to pull out his lips.

“Fuck.” He breathed, his eyes cast down and his hands tightening on your hip as he aided you in sinking down on him, a loud moan in there as your heat enveloped him. “Doing so good, bun, making it up to me hm?”

He chuckled as you whined and moaned, sinking further and further down while he held onto you, “Looking so pretty on camera too, baby…”

Through a heady gaze, you turned your attention to the red light on the table, reminding you that everything was being captured for him – your hands reaching out to touch his face as you smashed your lips to his. Moaning as he finally sunk all the way in, his length twitching softly within your walls as he groaned against your lips.

He didn’t give you a chance to kiss him before he was pulling away, watching as you squirmed slightly on his cock, back lent against the headboard as he looked at you with an equally potent gaze.

“You can move, baby…” He chuckled, hands brushing teasingly over your hips, your own hands moving to his waist like earlier.

A soft groan fell out your lips as you looked at him pleadingly, being on top was never your favourite without help, but you figured he knew that by now.

“Please…” You sniffle softly, shifting your hips lightly as his cock kisses something inside that left you tingling, “Can you help me?”

He only tutted in response, “You’re supposed to be making it up to me, baby.”

“Aemond.” You whimpered slightly, shifting your hips more into a lazy grind for some kind of friction. “Please.”

Aemond only chuckled in response, leaning further back with a smug smirk; he was getting off on watching you not want to do it, your teeth sinking into your lip as you started to grind a little harder. He wasn’t going to help you, and it was maddeningly attractive, leaving you to your own devices to try and get off while he taunted and tutted at you.

You tried to brace yourself as your hands moved to rest on your thighs, a needy look on your face as you started to move your hips over him. He was kissing your insides like he belonged there with each grind, your clit rubbing on his public bone and forcing breathy moans to fill the space. It was a heady combination of desperation and just pure wanted as he watched you, the only sign he was even fazed being the subtle picking up of his breath and his flexing fingers on your hip.

“Look at you…” He drawled out softly, eye casting all over your form as you worked yourself up on his cock, “So pretty and so needy, is this you being sorry baby?”

“Yes…” You mewled as you looked at him, nails digging into your skin as your hips moved, and moved, and moved. “I’m sorry…”

“Do you really want to make it up to me, baby?” He cooed at you like you would a toddler, one of his hands moving and thumb moving slightly into the crease in your thigh, “Make me happy?”

A frantic nod happened instantly as you breathed and moaned softly, “Yes.”

He chuckled darkly, leaning forward off the headboard – the feeling causing him to slide in deeper which you didn’t think was possible as a harsher moan left your mouth. His free hand slid from your hip, all the way up your breast to brush at your nipple softly before settling at the base of your throat. His hold was soft but with strong intent as it lay there in warning, his palm spanning the bottom and his fingers curling around with a twitch.

“Bounce bunny,” He taunted you, his lips meeting your jaw briefly, “Go on, be good.”

The filthy part of your brain complied instantly to his request, your head tilting back with broken moans as you started to move up and down on him, his lips parting in enjoyment as you took from him. This wasn’t a show for the cameras, this was pure unadulterated want as you bounced and moved on him, his cock sliding in and out of you with each smack of skin, filling his room with the thuds you hadn’t heard in a while. The two of you shared moans and groans with each movement, his lips kissing around the hold on your neck and your hands moving to his shoulders for leverage as you moved like you hadn’t in a while.

“Fuck, you’re so good for me bunny…” He moaned faintly against your skin, his hand tightening on your hip slightly as you buried your nose in his hair, preening softly at his praise, “You like the way I feel, bunny?”

You nodded with a mewl of agreement, panting into his hair as you bounced like a bunny in his lap. It was desperation really, but gods it felt amazing to have him kiss every bump and ridge of your inside like someone carved your hole out just for him.

“Feels good…” You moaned, your hands smoothing over his shoulder and to his back to bite your nails into.

You could feel his teeth show as your nails sunk into his skin, a breathy chuckle passing out his lips as you did, hand twitching on your neck, “You feel good, bunny…?”

“You take me so well,” He moved his mouth to your ear, nipping at your lobe, “Perfect little pussy was made for me, hm?”

His words curled like smoke into your ears, your eyes sinking to a half-lidded state as he spoke to the deep recesses of your brain. Your walls clamped around him as he did, forcing you to move a little bit harsher in his lap. The burning in your thighs was building, spreading from your knees all the way up but you couldn’t stop moving on him, grinding with a pathetic little whine with each roll down. You were pretty sure you did look like a needy bunny in his lap, fucking on him desperately to try and get off again like he hadn’t made you spill twice already; ignoring the burning in your legs and stomach that begged you to stop.

“Maybe I should keep you,” He chuckled pulling his head back slightly to look at your dishevelled state, “You’d like that thought wouldn’t you, keep you with me, warming my cock like the desperate little thing you are?”

“Please,” You begged, pressing your torso to his seeking his touch, “Please…”

Something about him forced you to your edges, pulling you over the edge of cliffs and into some dark pool below that you just couldn’t stop. He moans and groans against your neck wishing that he’d give you the tape of this once it was over, just so you’d have something to hold onto. Just so you could listen to him when you needed to get off.

Gods, you’d let him keep you, the rational part of your brain ready to put away any feminism you had to let him keep you needy and desperate in his lap for eternity.

“Needy little thing…” He taunted you, both his hands moving to your hips with a groan, “What a needy fucking thing you are…”

“Aemond…” You cried softly, the burning in your thighs getting worse with each bounce, “Please, I can’t—”

“You want me to take over is that it, baby?” He grinned at you, something heated behind it, “You’re supposed to be making it up to me, remember”

“Aemond…” You drawled out, trying not to slow down as he pushed and pushed you. “Please, please…”

Tears were pricking your eyes, gathering like pearls really to drop as the pain of overexerting yourself bled into the sheer pleasure of fucking him. The first of them slithering down your cheek as you looked at him, face full of want and anguish for him to take over. His healthy eye’s pupil was already are wide as the abyss, but something about watching a tear streak down your face only caused a glint to pass over it. His face stretched into something dark as he caught the tear with his lips, grinning like he’d discovered diamonds.

“Now, look at that…” He licked your cheek as another tear fell, your eyes closing at the feeling, he was feeding off those tears, “Bunny, you look so pretty when you cry…”

He was a bastard, but gods he was everything in that moment.

It wasn’t pity he took on you with his hands starting to help you, it was a need to see more of those delicious tears run down your face. His body leaned back for leverage as he started moving you up and down on him, like his own personal toy, his touch was harsher than yours, however. Each time he pulled you down only forced more noises out of your mouth, the smacking of skin getting louder and louder as he worked you over him.

The tears in your eyes didn’t lessen in the slightest, your wet gaze looking at him as they dripped with other intent. This wasn’t pain anymore, it was a burning gnawing feeling of lust building up again as your insides started to flame with another building climax. Aemond was grunting himself in pleasure, groans and moans spilling out as he looked up at you with need written on his own face. He wasn’t a needy man clearly, but in the moment, he looked at you like your cunt was god.

You were aiding him in any way you could in your bouncing, your legs practically spent as you tried to keep up the hopping but it was clear he was doing most of the work. Your hands held onto his as you moved and moved for him. There was the feeling of your eyes starting to roll as he moved his legs under you, his feet placing on the sheets to push up into you harder. Squeaks forced out as his hips started snapping up.

Aemond’s face was beautiful in the throes of pleasure, his cheeks taking on a soft flush, his gaze lush as he looked up at you with an almost soft look. He wasn’t being soft at the moment, but the pleasure coloured his face in the way you imagined a painting would look. His abs clenched with each thrust up. There was something in his gaze though, something calling that this wasn’t just it, but you couldn’t name it.

The burning in your stomach was spreading further and further, teetering on the edge of another climax as he fucked you from below. You knew this time you’d need a little more help to get there, not being used to having more than two orgasms in a night, so you felt no shame as your hand moved away from his to slide between the two of you. Fingers found your clit with ease as you rubbed, a choked moan croaking out as you tried to build up to another climax.

Aemond however had other plans, a tut snapping out his mouth instantly as his hand flew from your hip over yours, knocking it out the way for his own fingers. He wasn’t as soft as you, his own fingers intent on pushing you over the edge with a scream rather than a moan – it was overwhelming but you didn’t shy away from the intensity.

As he rubbed, your eyes looked over him so into giving pleasure, scanning him appreciatively; hands moving to smooth over his stomach as you just took him in. It was hot that all of this was being caught on camera, your eyes lazily drifting to the lens on the bedside as you stared at it – wondering if this would give him the same feeling it was giving you later on.

He could tell that you were nearly there by the noises, the way your warm walls got tighter and tighter around him, and the fact your face was flushing like a rose. A smirk drew up onto his lips as he shifted you slightly, his cock hitting that spot inside you that had your walls snapping around him. Eyes widening as you look at him, not even close to being there.

“Ah—” You cried softly, not panicked but worried about just how far this was going to go as he looked like he was pushing himself away from the edge, “What about—” You strangled out.

He only shushed you with a lazy grin, his head tilting back slightly as he forced you down a little hard; fingers still stroking at you in time with his thrusts. His groans were melodic as he pulled you further and further to the edge.

The tears were spilling down your cheeks and the pressure built in your core, walls tight around his cock that you were surprised that he could even move anymore with how hard you were gripping him. The friction coupled with his fingers on your clit forced the familiar prick to start to build, the feeling of needing to let go insane.

“I—” You moaned loudly, your face starting to screw up, his hips forcing every little noise out as he grunted with effort.

Aemond was just as lost in it as you were, but you could tell he wasn’t as close to letting go as you, his grunts a bit too strained with effort as he tightened his hold on your hips.

“Come on bun,” He breathed out, the air forced from his chest, “Let go for me, I know you want to…”

Everything felt like a melting pot of pleasure and pain, your soft sobs and moans blending together to create something truly pathetic as your chin angled down with effort. If Aemond had neighbours that could hear, you were sure they’d think you were being murdered in here but you just didn’t care anymore, the feeling in your stomach like a balloon that kept expanding till the rubber exploded.

There was a subtle haziness to your vision that was flooding in, the feeling of sweat on your back, and the hairs around your temple starting to stick with effort. Every single nerve in your body felt like someone was grazing over it with a lighter, a subtle shiver building up your spine as you felt your eyes start to slip shut; walls as tight as they could be.

And then there was only ringing, your own ears not picking up the moan that ripped out your throat and into the room as you finally let go. Your vision went white for a few seconds as you felt the familiar gush from your opening and soak Aemond’s length, the slick noises adding to the slapping of skin. Your flesh pimpled with a shiver, from your legs to your nipples perking up as you cried on his length.

Aemond could only watch with a shit-eating grin as you let go of him, his hips moving you through your pleasure as tears leaked down your cheeks.

“Fuck, look at you…” His voice was hoarse with effort, the sound scratching at your brain as the feelings started to come back, “Pretty fucking thing…”

The noises out your mouth turned whiny as he pushed you into overstimulation, the burning in your core too much – he could sense your pain however as he started to slow down, easing you lighter and lighter over his till he stopped. Your chest heaving with effort as you sniffled and cried, arms out and braced in his chest as you kept yourself from completely slumping over.

Moments were fruitless to remember, but you could feel one of his arms slip around your back as he moved the two of you with little effort. The feeling of his cold sheets felt like ice kissing fire as he settled you down onto them carefully, his length still buried in your despite it all.

“I’ve got you…” He hummed softly, a juxtaposition from the hammering you just took from him, “You’re okay, bunny, I’ve got you…”

His hands pushed some of your hair back softly as he chuckled fondly, your body practically melting into the sheets as he laid you on your back. One arm holding him up above you as the other lightly touched your skin, trying not to force you into some space you didn’t need to be.

“You with me?” He asked warmly, this thumb brushing some of the tears off your cheek.

It felt like a herculean effort to open your eyes, the lids swimming with tears as they blurrily opened with a pathetic sniffle and nod.

“There she is…” He chuckled faintly, looking over your face for any signs of distress.

His hair was a curtain over your face as you looked up at him, his image unphased while you melted like ice on a hot day into his sheets. His cock was still very much buried in you, the feeling of fullness causing a twitch of your hips that wasn’t seeking pleasure.

He hadn’t cum and the thought had your eyebrows pulling together.

Sensing your thoughts, he hums softly, head dipping to peck your lips with some affection before mumbling against them.

“Bunny…” You could feel the smirk twitching at his mouth, begging to come out, “You know I’m not done with you yet.”

You let out a soft cry at that, your little sniffle causing a smile on his face as he kissed over your chin, “You know your word, bunny…”

Your body was spent, every nerve you had left was frayed away like a tired electric cable left to rust, sweat and slickness covered your body and overall, you felt ready to wither away.

But fuck, you could not bring yourself to say the word.

Whether you were a glutton for punishment now, all you could do was blink up at him as he faux-fawned over you like a child again.

“But she won’t use it though, will she?” He grinned with teeth, looking down at you with a look that told you he was more than ready to eat you up again, “Such a pathetically needy little thing.”

Your body was very much just his vessel to move around now as he sat back on his knees; cock slipping out of you with a strangled moan from you. Both of his hands slid down your sides, looking down at you with an amused look before he pats your hip.

“Turn over,” He hummed while leaving no room for argument.

You whined softly as you were rolled onto your stomach, a tender feeling flooding your body as you felt his hands caress your backside. Aemond was intent on leaving nothing of you, his hands tugging your hips up with little effort as you moved onto your knees and elbows. Your body blooming like a flower as your limbs shakily held yourself up.

“I’ll take care of you, baby…” He snickered softly, the bed dipping as he stood on his knees behind you, hands firmly on your hips as he pulled you towards him.

“M’tired…” You sniffled softly, face partly in the sheets to muffle the noise.

You couldn’t see him but you could imagine his head tilting in amusement, “You know what to say if you want me to stop, baby…”

But you just couldn’t bring yourself to say the word, your body trembling slightly as he pulled you flush against him; his tip nudging your puffy folds with a soft hum. He knew you weren’t going to say it, the hunger in you winning out to see what another peak would do to you, your eyes fluttering at the thought. There was a brief pause before he was guiding himself back into you with a low moan, the breath knocking out of you as your walls instantly wrapped around him tight to the intrusion again.

He released a breathy moan as his hands tightened on your hips, his own body most likely wound up like a coil from the way he kept himself from letting go before. Aemond gave you a few seconds to adjust again before he was gripping your hips and forcing you back onto him; soft ‘uh’ noises slipping out as he started to rock you into him.

This was the furthest you’d been pushed before but you loved it as he built up a steady rhythm, his breathing starting to pick up and his hand flexing on your hips. Not being able to see him left you with a sense of want, but having him behind you like this had his cock reaching further into you, and that’s all that mattered right now. His hips slapped off your behind with steady thuds as you moaned and whined on his length.

“Fuck.” He gritted slightly, his hips forcing just a bit harder as you gripped onto him like you were trying to suck him in, “Where have you been all my life?”

The compliment was enough to draw a tired giggle out of your mouth as your elbows dug into the bed with effort, your head picking up slightly to try and look back at him. From what you could see, his head was tossed back slightly, his hair brushing his back as he used you again like a little toy just for him. It was hot, and it was letting you muster enough strength to try and work yourself back onto him.

He looked down as you did, a smug little smirk on his lips as he watched you, his hand no doubt leaving marks on your flesh with how tightly he was holding you.

“Oh, she’s found life, has she?” He goaded you, “I was going lightly on you this time for your benefit, baby, but if you’re feeling so energetic.”

Your lips parted as you watched him, a shocked breath tumbling out as he goaded you. A dirty smirk on his face, as one of his hands let go to tangle in your hair, forcing your face forward.

Your eyes widened slightly as they met the lens, in your fog of pleasure you’d forgotten it was there. “Smile for the camera, baby” He taunted.

Something demonic made him, that’s where your mind went before he just let himself go on you. His hands moved back to your hips to fuck you like he wanted; hips slamming into yours with such a force you felt every single noise you could make leave you, leaving your mouth open to wheeze and mewl. Aemond was the loudest he’d been all night, grunts and moans filling the spaces in between the slapping of hips and the slick dribbling down your legs, his voice carrying as he did all the work for you.

You wanted to look at him so bad, but all you could do was blink at the camera as tears of pleasure built in your eyes again. Fingers grasping at the bedding while he worked on rocking every bit of sense you had left out of you. This descent up the peak felt different from the last, your body shaking with something cold and so deliciously good that you wondered why you’d never found someone willing to use you like this before.

He was something else entirely, something that you honestly never wanted to let go of as he fucked you.  If this was only going to be a one-night stand, then god you hoped he imprinted his length into you forever.

He’d mostly stopped talking to you, clearly working on finding his pleasure and your own again, his hips doing the work of a god. His grunt and moans were just music to your ears as your head dropping down to the bed, your sweaty forehead pressed into his sheets as your back arched further into the feeling, seeking everything you could from him as he chuckled through the haze.

“You’re something else,” He murmured between moans, clearly happy with how you were taking it like a champ.

Thrusting alone wasn’t going to cut it, despite how tight your body was wound, and the noises you were letting out probably spoke volumes to that. His lips shushed you slightly with a grunt.

“I know, baby…” He said between his clenched jaw, his hand slipping over your hip and under.

The demon he was, didn’t just go for your clit, however, his hand pressed softly on your lower stomach as you sang for him instantly. A sob left you as you felt yourself get impossibly tighter for a second, the push causing his cock to hit something deep in you that had your knees shaking. He wasn’t about to keep you on edge, his hand sliding down to find your clit as his wrist kept pressed on your lower stomach.

“Aemond…” You moaned a deranged sound from the back of your throat he grunted in response. “Fuck, Aemond please.”

“Just a bit longer, bunny.” He grunted with effort, your eyes widening in the sheets as something built hotter and hotter in you.

The feeling was like a hot iron being struck over and over with each rock of his hips, his fingers coaxing everything out of you. It was a scary feeling to be pushed so far, and you weren’t sure if you could even find that end again, no matter how determined a lover he was.

Aemond wasn’t going to stop until you both tumbled over the edge this time, his grunt building into something harsh as he fucked into you harder and harder; his movements needy as you felt right now. Your breathing was all over the place, torn between gasps and choked noises as you fought your brain to get to the end, your tongue peeking out your mouth slightly in desperation.

If you never slept with someone else again after this, you were so glad that Aemond was the one to muddle your mind into something twisted. The familiar haze of lust clouded your brain again as your knuckles went white on the sheets.

All you could get out was squeaks at this point, your head pressing further and further into the bed as you arched more, thighs slapping with his as he took you to the last lap.

“Bunny.” He grunted, something feral in his tone as he spoke to you, “Are you nearly there, baby?”

The only you could give him was a sob of what sounded like a ‘yes’, there was truly nothing left of you.

The hot iron before was melting in the heat, dripping its molten ooze into your body and fogging your brain. It was impossible to tell who came first, but as you felt his hips drive into one last harsh time with a moan so loud that you’re pretty sure it would be ingrained into your mind forever. You completely let go. Your mind blacked out in a haze of feral lust as the feeling of his spend filled you completely.

You weren’t sure if it was moments or hours anymore, and you’re sure if you could see yourself, you’d be embarrassed by whatever act you were doing. But none of it was a thought in your brain anymore, emptied-headed and fucked. That’s what you were, your brain cutting out as you felt your body slump out of his hold and onto the sheets one last time.

What happened after that exact point, you weren’t really sure, but in the moments after the fall, you felt a soothing hand on your stomach. Your eyes were heavy with exhaustion, barely fluttering open as you adjusted to every sound and feeling around you. There was a warmth between your thighs dribbling out and a hand on your stomach that wasn’t touching with intent, it was stroking so softly like he was trying to coax you back to him. A faint mumbling filled your ears as he soothed you in whatever way he could.

“You’re okay, baby…” He hummed softly, the two of you now lying on the bed, his body leaning on his side as he looked over you. “Did so good for me…”

It was lazy the way your head turned, eyes swimming with tiredness, to look at him.

All Aemond could do was smile lazily back, his own face the most tender it had been all night, “Look who’s awake.”

Your lips parted dryly before they closed again, no energy left to even speak.

“You okay, bunny?” He hummed softly, dipping his head slightly to look at you, eyes warm with care, “You blacked out for a second.”

“I’m okay…” You whispered softly, the flush on your face warm and your body sunk into his bed.

“Good…” He purred, his hand moving off your stomach to reach beyond you.

You had assumed he was turning the camera off, but you were surprised when his hand appeared with a glass; water swishing in the glass as he moved it to you with a soft sigh.

“Drink, baby,” He tutted softly, helping you up with him as he sat up slightly, pressing the glass to your mouth as your hand shakily moved to hold it with him.

God, it really was like finding an oasis in the desert as the cold liquid slipped down your tender throat. Your body leaned partly on his chest as you gulped the water down greedily, his free arm wrapping around you to brush your side softly.

“There you go…” He sighed warmly, making sure you didn’t slip into any uncomfortable place, his lips by your ear as he spoke softly to you, “You were so good for me, baby…”

After a few moments, he placed the glass on the bedside table before pulling you closer to him, his warmth seeping into your skin like a comforting embrace. Aemond’s fingers continued their slow, absentminded tracing along your arm, his touch featherlight, grounding you back into reality.

Your body still tingled from the intensity of the night, exhaustion weighing down your limbs like a heavy velvet blanket. You let out a breath, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the heady scent of your session that clung to him. Giving yourself a few moments of reprieve from the absolute storm that was him.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pressed a kiss against your temple. “That tired, hm?”

You hummed in response, words too much effort when all you wanted was to stay wrapped up in him, in this moment. His arm tightened around you, his palm smoothing slow, lazy circles along your back as he held you close. Neither of you spoke, only the sound of your steady breaths filling the dimly lit room.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, wrapped up in his arms, his touch keeping you tethered to reality. But eventually, Aemond let out a soft sigh, pressing a kiss to your hair before carefully slipping from you. The loss of his warmth made you stir slightly, your fingers weakly grasping for him, but he only shushed you gently.

“Just getting you a shirt, bunny,” he murmured, brushing a hand over your cheek before stepping away.

You barely cracked your eyes open as you watched him move, his bare back to you as he rummaged through his drawers. The exhaustion in your limbs made it impossible to do anything but wait, sinking further into the bed as exhaustion tugged at your edges.

Then he was back, helping you up slightly before draping a soft, worn shirt over your head, guiding your arms through it, his touch tender. Once you were settled, he laid you back in the covers again.

“Feeling better?” His tone was softer than usual, but there was something beneath it, something careful, almost hesitant.

You blinked up at him, drowsy, but nodded. “Yeah…”

Aemond exhaled through his nose, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your side. He was drawing shapes you couldn’t understand, his eyes looking over you in his bed, his body still bare to you.

It was almost reverent like the two of you didn’t just fuck like animals for god knows how long, but it was nice, comforting even. Your brain finally settled down as you moaned softly, settling into bed like you never wanted to leave, his face amused as he watched you.

“Can I ask you something, bunny?” He murmured softly breaking the silence, his hand settling on your hip possessively, his eye slightly wicked with intent.

“Hmm…” You tiredly moaned in response, eyes half-lidded and face in his pillow as you tried to listen to him.

He smirked softly, and then, after a beat.

“Come on tour with me.”

While I do not own the characters, I retain full copyright over this written work. Under no circumstances may this content be translated, copied, reposted, or used for AI training or any other purpose without my explicit permission.

[januaryembrs]

hot chocolate!!!

what about bau!reader who’s super affectionate with spencer (and he just takes it with a blush and sugary coffee)

example; jawline kisses that are supposed to be cheek kisses instead of hello’s and goodbye’s & reader having her arm around spencer’s waist at all times cuz she’s just so used to his body warmth!!!

(for some reason i’m imagining s9 reid & new-ish reader but u can do what u want ofc!!)

FUGITIVE AFFECTIONS | Spencer Reid x BAU!reader

description: fugitive (noun) meaning escape, runaway. (adjective) meaning fleeting, brief, passing.

Length: 1.1k

warnings: fluff fluff FLUFF.

He knew what was coming the second he heard her footsteps. The coffee machine spluttered with effort as it churned out his third cup of the day, and he was already perched with the sugar waiting for the appliance to do its thing. Spencer barely had chance to acknowledge the approaching figure when he felt arms wrap around his waist, someone attaching themselves to his back with a feather light kiss to his spine. 

“Good morning,” He called over his shoulder, and you hummed, quickly squeezing the soft pooch of his stomach and releasing him. 

“Morning,” You said, and he leaned up to open the cupboard door, which wasn’t a big feat for him with his heinously long limbs. Plopping a mug down on the side, he poured coffee in your cup first before he started on his own, “Reports due today?” 

“Hotch wants the Minnesota and the Nevada cases wrapped up,” He said, sliding the milk and sugar over to your side of the counter and keeping his head down. Spencer felt his ears run hot, like they usually did whenever you got so close to him, which just happened to be always. 

He doubted the words ‘personal space’ were ever a thing in your vocabulary. It had started with Garcia, with the two of you linking arms and braiding each other's hair after two weeks of you moving to the BAU, and he’d figured that Garcia had won you over with that natural, bubbly charm of hers. But Spencer was perceptive, and he’d quickly realised the behaviour was not strictly limited to Penelope and her chirpy attitude. You tended to walk close to everyone, like you were trying to mesh you bodies in with them and the shoulder bumps and hands brushed against one another didn’t matter. In the end, rather than push you away, Morgan had taken to wrapping an arm around your shoulder as the two of you waltzed around the office together. Even Blake was succumbing to your touchy-feely attitude as you liked to cosy up next to her on the jet, usually falling asleep with your head on her shoulder, and she thought little of it now, just continuing with her crosswords unbothered. 

And then you’d set your sights on Spencer. 

He supposed you hadn’t quite got the memo about his germaphobia, or perhaps the transference of bacteria between humans during simple hand holding just never occurred to you. Yet after just a month of being desk buddies with him, he nearly jumped out of his skin the day you slipped your fingers in between his when the two of you had been paired up on a case and you were heading down the witness’s driveway to interview them. 

He’s been about to ask what the hell you were doing, or perhaps scramble to shove you off, and sanitise his hands with the emergency gel he kept in his bag at all times. But by the time he’d looked over at you, his cheeks a flaming strawberry colour with what he’d thought of as annoyance, you were simply smiling at him, and began swinging your joined hands back and forth, nudging your temple into his shoulder affectionately. 

“You look really pretty in that purple shirt, Spencer,” You said simply, and whatever scathing remark about how eighty percent of pathogens are transferred during hand holding was robbed from his gullet and he was stunned into silence. The way you’d said his name alone made his lips part in wonder, because he’d never heard it said like that. 

“T-thankyou, I like your jacket.” He cringed as soon a he said it, and the two of you looked down to your government issued FBI vest, the same one he wore, the same one Hotch wore, the same one they’d all worn for the past nine years. 

You sniggered, bumping him again with your forehead like you were a cat purring up against him, marking your territory. 

“You’re cute,”

You were full of sweet, loving words like that he realised, all buttercups and candy floss and honey and sweetie and my love and he felt himself expecting it now, biting his lip in worry if you were ever just the tiniest bit too busy to fluff him up with affection.

Like when you’d been called out by Blake on an emergency, the two of you scrambling to grab the SUV keys to go meet Morgan and JJ where they were moving into the building  after the suspect. 

The two of you had all but ran out of the precinct in the effort to catch up with the other agents, leaving Spencer, pen still in his hand as he mapped out the geographical profile, and he hadn’t realised anything was missing until he heard the door slam shut and he hadn’t felt the warmth of your hug, your hand in his hair ruffling it lovingly, not even a ‘goodbye, sweetie!’

Spencer pouted, despite the fact he’d spent the first few weeks wondering if he should be shying away from your touch because he was quickly running out of sanitizer and had yet to want you to stop. He felt like his routine had been interrupted, because that’s definitely what the source of his disappointment was, not the fact he wondered if he had done something wrong, and yet before he could think too hard about it, the door swung back open, Blake yelling something from the hallway that he could just about make out was your name, before a body crashed into his side and your lips were on his jaw, kissing him lightly through laboured breaths. 

“Bye, Spence.” You murmured, kissing up his cheek a few times to apologise for the wait, and he hadn’t even had the chance to return the favour through the fish out of water gape as he watched you run back to the door, Blake looking at you incredulously. 

“I just watched you run up three flights of stairs for that?” She asked, the door slowly closing behind you and giving him unfiltered snooping on your conversation. He smiled so wide his cheeks hurt, the same one that you had just kissed over and over again like it was a normal thing for you two, and he wondered if he could coordinate you rushing out of the office every time if it meant he’d have that again. 

“It’s Spencer, it was important,” You insisted, and he squoze his hands so tightly his nails dug into his palm, because it was too late to tell you just how much you’d made him feel in such a tiny gesture, and the electricity from your kisses had to come out somewhere. If not, Spencer worried he might explode. 

His hand sanitizer sat empty in his pocket, the same way it had been for months, and Spencer couldn’t care less.