#the only good side to this is the fact that i also finally confirm that whenever i get pissed easily. its cuz of galahad | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ibbythebee · 1 year ago

Text

Anything

pairing: Fred Weasley x Prefect!Reader

summary: Fred would do anything to see you, 'Hogwart's strictest Prefect', loosen up.

genre: fluff 'n stuff, and only slight angst, also borderline slowburn

warnings: swearing, bullying moments, implied that reader is in Slytherin, lots of teasing, flirting, kissing, Fred is completely and utterly whipped for reader, "your highness" nickname

a/n: not me in the middle of writing a neville fic and then having a shower thought of a fred x reader and writing this instead.

words: 6.9k

masterlist

»»————-　⌁　————-««

You can hear them. And you know it's them, because of the sniggering and that laugh.

By now, when you patrolled outside of class hours you'd find yourself actively seeking out these boys. Today happens to be good day to continue your spotless Prefect record.

With a hand sliding to your hip, you smoothly round the corner of the door to your Potions classroom and as you suspected, Fred and George Weasley are there, huddled over a particular cauldron. Something's clearly already been brewed and Fred is holding a cork screwed flask with the mysterious liquid.

It takes a minute until Fred happens to glance toward the door and sees you there, nose in the air and hands now clasped in front of you. He's trying not to laugh when he sees you, and elbows his brother.

The said Weasley is about to say something, but as he meets your gaze his lips press together in a slightly curved line.

Successful in catching their attention, one eyebrow and then one corner of your lips gently raise. "We've really got to stop bumping into each other like this."

"I think you wanted to bump into us," Fred says with a prominent smile. He looks innocent, just like always.

You neither confirm nor deny his remark and instead stride closer to them. You take your time, head turning in each direction, eyes scanning for any other suspicious looking activity. It feels good, because you can feel their stares and how they wait with bated breaths for your next move.

With a last step you settle on the opposite side of their table. You look at Fred, head tilted softly, studying his expression.

His smile only grows when you reach his eyes and it's finally time to address the elephant in the room.

In a newly straightened posture you say in a slow and sarcastic tone, "did you know... that I can take away points from your House? From each of you, in fact?"

"Oh, come on. Our favourite Prefect. Can't you pretend you never saw us, like last time?" George answers.

"Sorry what was that? You'd like 30 points taken away?"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Fred waves with a chuckle, "let's not get hasty. What about... a-a compromise?"

George nods desperately.

Your eyebrow raises again, and you lean back, crossing your arms. "A compromise, instead of taking away your precious points?"

"Yes, we'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything." Fred glides a tongue over his bottom lip, speaking to you through his eyes.

For once he looks completely serious and it makes you smile in delight. An expression seldom found in your features. It's completely magical and Fred finds no regret to bargaining with you.

"There is something you can do for me," your eyes glaze over Fred's face and then you turn to George, leaning forward over the table on your elbows. "The next Quidditch Game."

"Yeah? Slytherin v Gryffindor. Need us to bug someone?" George grins.

You shake your head and smile again. You're frighteningly beautiful with that curve on your face as you continue. "I need you to make sure that Slytherin wins."

"What?"

Fred captures your attention, so you lean in closer to his side of the desk. "It shouldn't be too hard for you both, right?"

He squints, unable to hold back a smile of his own. In the previous times when you had caught the twins in the middle of scheming, you'd never been so coy with them. Ruffling your feathers a bit was always the boys' goal when getting caught by you, however now that you seem to be playing along, Fred can't get enough. "That's hardly something to wish for, your highness. You can have anything from us, really anything. Don't hold back."

You shrug, "well, that's what I choose."

"But if you think about it you cou—"

"I can take the points off now, if you like? It's really no problem."

"Fine. W-We'll do it." George huffs, and his brother follows with a playful bow.

"Your wish is our command."

"Please just don't take the points off. We'll be kicked out of Gryffindor if you snitch again."

"Me? Snitch?" Your voice drips in sarcastic innocence, and you push yourself off of the desk. Your feet turn to walk back outside first, but your eyes remain on Fred until it's physically impossible to stay focused on him. As you saunter to the door, you feel their gazes on you again and it's oh so satisfying to know that you get the last say. "You need to get better at not getting caught. Because, if I didn't know any better, it looks more like you want me to bump into you."

You turn around to face them again, and stare at the flask in between Fred's long fingers. By some miracle you'd never found yourself to be the butt of their schemes, unlike the other prefects. Even as a chaser of the twins' opposition in Quidditch, you've been the only lucky soul on your team to come out the other end. The question was why? Why spare you?

"Who in Salazar's name threw that?" Your captain shrieks, massaging the back of his head, small flakes of snow dropping to the skin of his neck.

How bothersome, you think, looking around at the rest of your teammates who're busy cooling down after Quidditch training.

"What?! A snowball just happens to gain sentience and hit me, huh? An owl maybe? Just come forward, admit you did it and I'll go easy on you—"

The spray of snow flies off of the captain's head again and you dodge the icy substance in time, some of it landing on your beater and chaser teammate. Everyone exclaims except you, you're too busy scanning over the field.

Suddenly, the burly boy of a captain huffs toward you, and you take a shove to the shoulder.

Stumbling back by a metre, you frown. Increasingly annoyed by your captain's baseless judgements. "What the hell is wrong with you? How many times do I have to tell you I'm a prefect?"

"I know a guilty person when I see one."

You're about to give him a piece of your mind until the idiot is hit again and you stifle a laugh at the noise he makes.

"Clever," he says through gritted teeth. Despite clearly looking at you just seconds before the snowball made contact with his thick skull, his pride is still hell-bent on accusing you. "I knew you were good at school, but I didn't think you'd stoop so low to use non-verball spells for something so stupid."

"Well, I knew you were delusional before, but now it's perfectly clear that you just don't have a brain."

As though your words were a signal, a tsunami of white ice balls appear in the sky and you don't hold back your smile as it pauses over your team. They each look up, faces with panicked expressions, and before they can even begin to escape, the snow crashes down over your peers. Figuring, it's the perfect moment to leave, you zoom out of the field on your broom and land to your feet once you can't see those angry faces anymore.

And that's when you hear him. That laugh, and he's looking at you and combing a hand through his ginger hair, all whilst adorning a satisfied ear-to-ear grin.

"Thanks." Is all you can say at first, then you realise his partner-in-crime George isn't right by his side. "Where's your brother?"

"On the other end of the field."

You nod. When you don't say anything more and turn to leave, you feel long fingers wrap around your wrist. He's warm against your icy skin, and your eyes shoot up, only to be greeted by a soft smirk.

"You're not going to snitch on us are you, your highness?"

"Me? Snitch?" You stop yourself from feeling so giddy about the previous event and instead focus on the fact that would you be doing your prefectoral duties correctly, you would have absolutely told a Professor about the twins. But the adrenaline rush feels too great and so you finally shake your head at the tall ginger. "You were just... watching us practice, right? I don't see anything suspicious about that."

His smirk twists into a genuine smile, and he allows your wrist to slide out of his grasp. A twinkle of mischievousness reaches your eyes, and then you're off, jogging into the distance. A few metres in, you take a chance to glance back to where you left Fred. And you don't know whether it was from training or the adrenaline, but you feel your neck and cheeks flare with heat at the sight of him lean against the frame of the entrance, steadily watching you run.

Clearing your throat, you push your recollection of the past away and take out your wand.

“You know you’re not allowed to use spells outside of class, your highness,” says Fred, his voice playful.

“That’s okay,” you shrug, “because I know you won’t tell on me.”

“Are you quite sure about that?” George chimes.

You nod immediately, the easiest question to answer. “I’m your favourite prefect, am I not?”

Fred’s expression is unreadable to you at first as he shakes his head slowly. He looks shocked, but at the same time pleased and a hint of something else that you can’t quite grasp.

Figuring you’ve stared at him long enough you send the twins’ a wink and the door shuts with a swipe of your wand.

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Your robe is floating behind you, a spitting image of Professor Snape, as you walk with purpose to your class, books cradled in your arms and head held high. You round a corner of the halls smoothly and find yourself at your Potions classroom. It's been a week since finding the Weasleys in there, and you still haven't found out what concoction they had created.

In any case, your class has already begun, and Snape's voice is barely audible with the door in front of you. You let your fingers clench around your books for a moment, taking in a breath. Then you push your way in, and each one of your classmates turn their attention to you.

"How lovely of you to join us, Miss L/N."

Having already predicted the Professor's sarcasm-filled reaction to your tardiness, you hand out a small slip of paper. "A note from Professor McGonagall."

He barely skims over the words and indicates for you to find a seat. Fingers clenching around your books again, you let yourself look over your peers. There's a seat next to Ginger Jorkins from Hufflepuff, but after noticing your stare she's quick to put her belongings where you could have sat. You hold off from sighing, because to your relief there is one more free seat, all the way at the back of the room. Right beside the vacant spot is a familiar head of red hair, and the pain from your tight grip subsides upon seeing him. That sigh you've been holding lets free once you sit down and the class continues.

"Welcome to the back of the class," Fred whispers with his signature grin. "You're with the cool kids now."

"Speaking of..." You glance behind him and frown. "Where's your brother?"

He makes a face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." And then it hits you. The Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch Game. The compromise. The "make-sure-that-Slytherin-wins" game. The "George-has-been-completely-annihilated-by-a-bludger" and "won't-be-walking-around-anytime-soon" game.

"Oh... right."

Fred simply nods, finding the way you froze for a moment to be equally funny and endearing. The rest of your face doesn't show it, but he notices the panic in your pretty eyes and gives your arm a little nudge. "Hey. The git's okay. Says it was worth the pain because the girl he fancies paid him a visit."

You bite your lip and let yourself focus on Snape, who's mouth is moving, but you can't hear anything coming out. "It's still technically my fault. He looked awful."

Fred leans forward, his head turning to rest against his crossed arms. He studies your features as you attempt to listen into the class. When he speaks, his voice is a whisper again. "Come to Hogsmeade with me."

You give him a side glance. No one's ever invited you to come before and for all you know he could be making fun of you. It'd been hard in the beginning, though you eventually found comfort being in your own presence; drinking butterbeer while other people joked and laughed and shared stories and the gossip of the week. And talked about how they received a pointless detention after being told off from that know-it-all bitch.

"I-I don't..." You stumble upon your words, the crease between your brows growing deeper as you try to recollect your thoughts.

"Yeah, you're coming," he declares. And when you go to protest, he sits back up, sending you a wink.

"AND so..." Snape glares in your direction, "by the end of this class, I will be testing the quality of your potions by using a simple leaf. If it melts you've brewed successfully, and if not... you'll be in here on the weekend till you get it right."

To your surprise, Fred doesn't make a fuss, instead he beams at you with a clap of his hands. "Let's get started then, shall we Professor?"

The said man only grunts in response, so you all begin.

Forty minutes passes by in an instant, and no matter how well you follow the recipe, the liquid in your cauldron doesn't look like a liquid anymore and it smells differently to Fred's.

Wait. Fred's?

You frown down into his cauldron. His potion's immaculate.

You pull at the sleeve of his robe till his head comes down and his long hair tickles the tip of your nose. "How are you doing this?"

"I'm smart when I want to be," he chuckles.

"That's not an answer. I demand you give me an answer, or... I will take off points from Gryffindor."

He feigns an expression of shock which immediately gives way to a smirk, face just a few inches away from yours. "And what if I do tell you? You promise not to snitch?"

"Me? Snitch?"

That mischievousness is back into your dolomitic eyes, and Fred swears that the potion isn't required to melt the leaf.

"How about a compromise?" you whisper.

He shoots a glance toward the Professor and then hums when he feels it's all clear to keep talking. "I'm listening."

"I come with you to Hogsmeade, and I promise to do whatever you want to do. Deal?"

He doesn't need a moment, or even a second to reply. He's already nodding, slipping a hand into yours. "Deal."

You share a knowing look and shake your intwined hands. Compromise confirmed. "Now—"

Before you get to finish, he pulls out a very familiar cork-screwed flask, and in perfect fashion you keep from gasping or reacting at all, but Fred can see it in your eyes. He scans over the classroom, Snape's busy writing something on the board, and so he's clear to lower his head to you.

Your fingers graze as he passes you the concoction he had made with his brother. Electricity runs through the veins of your fingers till it hits your heart, skipping a beat.

"Someone might've tipped us off about this assignment," Fred murmurs. "So, naturally, we just wanted to be prepared. There was no way we were going to miss out on a Hogsmeade visit."

Not with George in the Hospital Wing, you think to yourself with guilt, pulling your robe sleeve down to hide the flask should your Professor stop by.

"Well... my beloved brother sadly will. I'll never forget his bravery." Fred makes a show out of a simple sigh and you feel like slapping his arm. He places his hand over his chest and sighs again, only it's a little louder this time and longer. "A girl we know threatened us to rig the Quidditch game so that Slytherin would win, if we didn't do as she asked she would've gotten us into trouble—"

"Fred." Images of the poor Weasley twin with a whole half of his body covered in the sickening colour of a bruise flood your brain.

"—and being the good man that he is, Georgie sacrificed himself, in order to satisfy the needs of this girl."

"Oi! I already feel horrible, okay?" You finally give his arm that well-earned smack, and when all he does is laugh, you huff with a pout.

He recollects himself, and makes sure Snape's still preoccupied. He bends down to your level again, and his breath fans over the strands of hair by your ear. "I would do the same for this girl."

There's that heat in your neck again and yet another electric feeling runs up your spine at his worlds. You don't meet his gaze and instead stare forward. To save yourself from embarrassment, you lift your chin and with one swift movement, the liquid from the flask falls into your cauldron.

Fred watches in delight as you stir until your previously horrible creation morphs and dissolves into that flawless fluid that you had just seen in the Weasley's cauldron. From such a result, you're unable to stop yourself as your lips curl into a smile, parting slowly to reveal your teeth.

You are the embodiment of this potion. Any person or creature of the magical world would completely disarm at the sight of your expression. And Fred's lucky enough to be your first victim.

"You seem very pleased, Miss L/N."

The black figure of Snape shadows yours and Fred's vision as he glides in front of your desk. He peers into your cauldron, nothing shows on his face and then he's examining Fred's, the same reaction of nothing.

The man then clicks his tongue and floats back to the front of the classroom, picking two leaves off of the plant on his desk. He returns swiftly, gesturing the rest of the class to join him by your table.

"Look closely." Snape says as his hand hovers over your creation, and then his fingers let go of the green object.

Hushed breaths watch as it hits the surface of the liquid with a ripple. There's no reaction at first and it fills you with dread. You even see Fred stiffen in the corner of your sight.

Then the leaf twitches with a change in colour, and soon it's no where to be seen, dissolved. Successful.

Someone mutters a 'wow', others share glances of contempt or roll their eyes. You on the other hand feel relieved and lean onto your hip, arm brushing against the tall boy beside you. He relaxes at your gentle touch.

"It seems you will have the fortune of freedom this weekend." Professor Snape mutters, and then with no time to waste, moves on to Fred. You barely have a chance to thank the man. His hand hovers, fingers open and a new leaf falls.

In a blink, the leaf has melted and you feel the Weasley straighten up in pride.

Snape however, isn't convinced and folds his arms. "How convenient that you should produce a successful potion - out of many failures - when seated beside Miss L/N."

Innocent until proven guilty, you think and look up at Fred, who's only smiling like a fool, his focused trained on Snape's. Your classmates murmur, and it isn't hard to place who they're talking about with their not-so subtle glares pointed in your direction.

"So I did a good job?" The boy's happy expression grows with innocence.

"Somehow. Five points... to each of you." The raven-haired man admits, his gaze lingers on the Weasley before he turns away, addressing you both and the rest of the class. "L/N and Weasley, seeing as you have completed the task, you may be dismissed. However, by next class I expect a 2,000 word written report of your method and findings. That'll be all. The rest of you... you have fifteen minutes."

Groans and curses hidden under breaths echo through the room, you and Fred, however, turn to each other with eyebrows raised and stupid grins plastered over your faces.

Adrenaline kicks in, and you both scramble to clear up the desk and snatch up your belongings. You sprint out the door not after sending the Professor a 'thank you', and then you're out the door and sprinting into the courtyard, crisp winter air nipping at your extremities.

You pause by the fountain, leaning against the tall structure and Fred follows suit, situating himself in front of you. "I can't believe I did that," you say in a breathless tone still grinning, books hugging into your chest.

He chuckles in between his own pants of breath. "Feels good doesn't it, your highness?"

"I hate to admit but... yes."

You watch as his gaze on you softens, as well as his grin subduing into contentment. "You make a good partner-in-crime. I think I might just replace George."

"Then he will surely kill me once he's recovered! That is... if he doesn't already."

Fred winks, "I'll make sure that won't happen. A princess such as yourself deserves a knight-in-shining armour."

"Oh yes." You give a curtsy and wave of your hand, your voice forming a posh accent. Well, no more posh than you already sound. "Then will you do the honour of escorting me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?"

With a fist to his chest, Fred bows. "For you, my dear, anything."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

It's irregular of you to be so fashionably late. Last night you'd found yourself restless, thoughts of sleep hidden behind scenes of you and Fred eating candy together, laughing, using magic outside of class to throw snowballs at your Quidditch Captain. Despite the chill of a winter night, being covered by your duvet and blankets was suffocatingly warm, especially when you kept seeing Fred pull you behind a tree, gloved hands drawing you into him by your hips, noses barely touching and lips parted with warm butterbeered breaths.

Your chocolate-brown screech owl whinnies by the foot of your bed and you flinch, adjusting your beanie for the hundredth time. "What do you think, Prim? Do I look tired? I look tired, don't I?"

The owl blinks and gives another whinny, a sound similar to that of a miniature pony. You check the clock on the wall of your dormitory and bite your lip, jostling through your belongings and retrieving a small purse of galleons to shove into your coat pocket.

One more look in the mirror, just one more. Your hair looks surprising lovely, strands of it squished against your thick scarf, and fortunately covering areas of your blemished face that couldn't be covered enough by your concealer. "It'll have to do!"

Prim purrs when you stroke her head and then you're off. You almost trip at the bottom of the stairs and as a result you pause, taking in a breath, calming the pounding in your chest. This Hogsmeade visit is just like any other. Just like any other. You’re just… not alone this time. That’s enough to get you smiling, as you saunter through the halls and finally out the gates, where you see a few groups of students still hanging around Hogwarts.

At the top of the steps you crane your neck in an attempts to find Fred amongst the small groups.

“I was beginning to think you stood me up.”

You spin on your heels at the sound of his voice, and are greeted with a growing grin. Teeth sparkling and everything. It takes a toll on you not to tackle him in a hug right then and there. The thick hoody he’s adorning, as well as the adorable beanie all look extra cuddly. Those gloved hands that you’ve been thinking about slide out of the pockets of his jeans and reach for your scarf, gently tightening the fabric around your face and neck.

On the outside you seem unbothered by his action, but he already sees what you’re really feeling through those dolomitic eyes of yours. “A deal’s a deal,” you finally say. “But it was rude of me to keep you waiting so long, so I’ll buy you a butterbeer.”

He shakes his head, fiddling with the hem of the scarf. “You turning up is enough for me.”

You shake your head back, dipping your chin into the material to hide your smile. “I’m buying you one. Argument over.”

“Alright then.” He chuckles and gives your scarf a gentle tug. “No more time to waste, your highness, let’s go.”

“Lead the way, Sir Weasley.”

You’re perfectly giddy as you trudge your way to the little village. Fred tells you about his plans for Christmas and you tell him yours, not very big and not very exciting, but he adores listening to you speak. He tells you about George and his recovery, and teases you when he sees guilt written over your face. Then despite your many differences, you both bond over your love for Quidditch, especially the Irish team. Occasionally, your shoulders and arms graze, and other times your fingers, as you stomp through the snow covered grounds. With every touch your chest grows warm, and your belly flips. You almost forget that you should be looking out for any bad behaviour. You almost forget that you still have a duty to uphold to the school.

Hogsmeade is bustling with life when you finally arrive. More so now that you could share it with someone.

“Come on, let’s warm up first.” Fred tugs your scarf again and successfully gains your full attention. He pulls you into the Three Broomsticks, greeted immediately by a wave of warmth. He’s still pulling on your scarf so you swiftly ask for two hot butterbeers and allow him to lead you to a table at the far end of the room.

“Am I your pet? Leading me around like that.” You sit down opposite him, motioning to his hand still holding onto the end of the long material.

He hums for a moment, and doesn't look to have any intention of letting go. “More like restraining you from going into ‘prefect’ mode.”

"Hey! Some people need disciplining," you pout.

"You sound like a Professor..." he narrows his eyes at you, lacking the skills to stop smiling so big. "You're not Professor Snape using Polyjuice potion, are you? Trying to figure out my secrets for passing your class, huh?"

Slowly, meticulously you straighten your back and fold your hands over the table, and void any emotion on your face. Your voice is low and slow and articulating every syllable as you speak. "What a ri-di-cu-lous suggestion. However... while we are on the topic, you didn't... copy off me, did you?"

Fred is so bad at suppressing his smirk. "Bloody Norah, you found me out! You're so smart, Profess— I mean... your highness."

The clink of glass hitting your table interrupts yours and Fred's thoughts. Madam Rosmerta's standing over you and when you meet her gaze she winks. "Good to see you with company this time around, Y/N."

Your face squishes into the fabric that Fred's still holding onto as you feel heat rise in your cheeks. Desperate to eliminate the fact that she basically just called you a loner in front of him, you fish into your pocket and pull out some coins, placing them onto the woman's open palm. "Thank you, Madam Rosmerta."

"Pleasure, dears. Enjoy.” Another wink is sent your way and she’s off to tend the rest of her pub.

As you bring the hot beverage to your mouth, you peek through your eyelashes. Fred has removed one glove and is now using that bare hand hold onto his drink, allowing the warmth to transfer into his already warm skin.

"Thank you," he says.

Your brows press together, "what for?"

"For paying."

"Well... thank you too."

He raises an eyebrow as he takes a good sip of the butterbeer, waiting for you to elaborate.

"For inviting me," you say shyly, fingers sliding across the surface of the mug.

"Awh, that's nothing," he chuckles, gently swaying your scarf.

"It's not 'nothing'. I didn't get a wink of sleep last night because I was so excited to come with you."

The ginger-haired boy presses his lips together tightly and then leans his face closer to you. "Wait, really?!"

How many times has it been now that you've felt your face heat up around Fred? You could play so coy and confident before, but now you felt like any other girl-with-a-crush in your year. "As a matter of fact, yes." You raise your chin and attempt to sit up straighter. "I know it may seem that I only agreed to come because of a compromise, but... I really did — do — appreciate you considering me."

"I don't think we'll need to stop by Honeydukes, your highness. You're so sweet, that my teeth already ache."

"You're so...!" You smack his arm.

But he's grinning like a fool, pulling at your scarf. "I'm so what?"

"I'm gonna take points off Gryffindor, just because you asked."

He guffaws, "what is this abuse of power?"

You take a swig of butterbeer and shrug, head high and smirk on display. "I like to call them perks."

"See?" You feel on your neck as he gives a tug-tug. "This is why you need to be kept on a lead."

Before you can retort, you notice he's pointing at his upper-lip and quietly chuckling. It sets off your heart.

"Brilliant moustache you got there," he says.

"Oh... thank you." How embarrassing. You really thought he was suggesting something else for a moment there. You glance around the room to make sure no one's watching before you slide a tongue over the sweet foam above your lip. "Is it gone?"

"Just..." at first there's a second of hesitation, but then he pulls you in over the table and meets you half-way, un-gloved hand coming up to cup your face. Why is he always so warm? Why is it that one of the most notorious rule-breakers of the school is taking your fancy? And so easily at that.

It feels like an hour passes when his thumb smooths over the left corner of your mouth and you hold in a breath, fingers clenched around your mug. You simply cannot help the urge to look at his own lips; pretty, pink and gently parted, calm breaths passing through.

His movements pause all of a sudden, so you glance at his eyes, but he's already looking at you. Completely under your spell, completely forgetting how to move, and completely forgetting that you're in public. You seem to have forgotten the same, still not pulling away from his touch. He catches your eyes dip to his lips again and he swallows thickly.

Then he's moving away and sitting back down, clearing his throat. "There, now you're good."

"Thanks," you wipe a finger over for extra measure and then look out the window, clearing your throat and straightening your back.

"You know how you mentioned that part of the deal was that we'd do anything I want to do?" He inquires, finishing his drink with a last swig.

"Yeah. A deal is a deal," you answer, finally turning back to him, surprised to see a confident smile carved into his features.

"Perfect. There's something I want to show you, but first I have a really good idea to help you unwind and forget about your prefect-ness."

"That doesn't sound good," you tease, chugging the last bit of your own butterbeer.

He's smirking now, "you won't be saying that when you see what we'll be doing."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

You're both crouched behind a boulder that oversees the Shrieking Shack in the distance. The perfect spot to spy on anyone who visits the lookout point. The perfect spot to snog outside of school walls. And it also happens to be the perfect spot to stock up on snowballs and wait for one particular person to fall into your trap.

"I hate to admit, but you were right, Sir Weasley. Again," you mutter, rubbing your gloved hands together.

"The more you hang out with me, the more you'll find out just how right I always am." He peeks over the boulder for a moment and then his hand shoots up in alarm, speaking in barely a whisper, "he's here."

He is. You can hear your Quidditch captain now and a few of his buddies, chatting and laughing. Someone puts on a voice, and it makes the group howl, but makes your stomach churn. The closer they get to the lookout, the clearer their words sound and the more you're looking forward to breaking the rules.

"—thinks she's all that, just 'cause she's a prefect. Like, bitch, I'm older than you!"

Their laughter is equal to that of nails on a chalkboard. Pelting them with some snowballs might not be fulfilling enough.

"Nah, it's 'cause she's got Snape behind her, hah. Thinks she can say and do whatever she wants."

Fred is hearing all of this. You feel like screaming, and perhaps hexing the hell out of all of them. They need a proper disciplining.

"Yeah, that's probably what's happening!" The group laugh again, and the next thing they say is the last straw. "She only got prefect because she's fucking him."

The bottom of your vision is blurry, but you tell Fred you're ready and he only nods. You both raise your wands, and he counts to three.

One snowball hits the back of the captain's head and to your satisfaction he lands on his face. You and Fred are enjoying the scene a little too much that it isn't until one of the idiots shout your name, do you realise you've blown your cover.

"Shoot!"

"Quick! We need to unleash all we've got!" Fred takes your free hand and guides you up to stand beside him. "One, two, THREE!"

Adrenaline shoots through your veins, as together you swish your wands and the rest of your snow pile is sent into the air. One more flick of the wands, and the balls fly with the speed of a snitch. Straight toward their faces. Exclamations, grunts, yells echo through the woods and open winter air. They swipe at their faces and eyes, blinded by your attack. The captain's still trying to recover from the first hit, from head to toe the entire front half of him is covered in white.

You let out a laugh, and suddenly Fred takes your hand again and you're sprinting away from the crime scene.

"HEY!" The Quidditch captain shouts after you, pure rage in his tone.

But you couldn't care less, because that grin on the Weasley's face is too contagious as you run by him, gloved hand in gloved hand.

He peeks over his shoulder to meet your gaze, only resulting in a skip of his heart and a flip of his stomach. Losing that Quidditch match was absolutely worth it, and Fred had to remind himself to thank George later for taking the blow.

You share breathless laughter as the shouts increase in amount, but decrease in volume. You're both much too fast for them and manage to get back to the village where you could hide within the crowds.

Your feet slow to a walk, and you both check if any of the idiots followed. Fred spots two pass by a tree and squeezes your hand to gain your attention.

"In here," he jerks his head, and pulls you into a small alley between two buildings.

Finally having a moment to catch your breath, you realise that it isn't really an alley, and more like a small gap. The space is so narrow in fact that your body is essentially pressed up against his. Back against wall. Heaving chest against heaving chest. Feet and legs side-by-side each other as though woven.

You don't care to look to your left where those jerks could be looking for you. You simply can't. You can't because all you can see are Fred's parted lips again, and he's looking down at yours. After which, your gazes meet and you don't think you've ever felt so hot in the middle of winter before.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes. No grin, no smirk, no teasing, just facts.

"And you're..." Your eyes dip again.

His hand slides out of yours, and then you feel weight by your hips and he's squeezing against the material of your pants and sweater.

You crane your neck, and he dips his head, as those gloved hands of his pull you into him.

Your own hunger has your fingers smooth over his chest and grip the collar of his hoody, desperately tugging for him to come closer and closer, tension in the air building with each breath.

"And I'm... what?" He purrs.

Something stirs in the bottom of your abdomen as the scent of butterbeer fills your senses, just millimetres away now. And then he captures your lips. And it's like heaven, because his hands can't help but slide up under your sweater and hold you by the skin of your waist.

At first the kiss is gentle, hesitant, but then you open your mouth a little wider and Fred takes this as a clear invitation. He smooths a tongue over yours, the taste of the sweet foamy drink still lingering on your lips.

His bold action elicits a hum from you, and his grip only tightens, craving more and more of you and your pretty sounds. You go until you can't breathe, mouths parting reluctantly but eyes still closed.

Fred presses his forehead against yours, your noses brushing in a feather-like touch. His thumbs caress your sides as he whispers, "you never answered my question."

"You wanna know what you are, right?” You murmur, hands sliding down over his collarbone and resting on his chest.

“Yeah. You’ve said it twice now and never finished your sentence.”

“Okay,” you lean in, lips feathering over his. “You’re…”

Good Godric you’re addicting. He pushes his head forward to meet you, but you pull back with the most attractive breathy laugh he's ever heard. Your lips stay brushing against his, but you won't give him any more than that and he loves it.

"You're..." you say again on his mouth, and he hangs on every single one of your words. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me at Hogwarts."

He watches your eyes for a moment, and leans into you once more, hands climbing up to lay flat against your back, your sweater pooling by his wrists. And you share the softest kiss ever, full of adoration, full of care, full of absolute affection.

"You saying that, you being here right now... feels like I've just won the Quidditch cup," he says when you part.

"I really mean it, Fred." You wrap your arms around his middle and squeeze him there, cheek squishing into his chest. "You've heard how people talk about me, but you don't seem to care about any of that stuff."

He returns your gesture, his own cheek landing on the top of your head. "You're right. I don't care about it, because I've seen how much you care for the school and care for keeping things in order. A little too much, but to each their own."

"Oi."

"I have to tease, I have to. Still, joking aside, if anyone says that kind of shit about you and you hear about it, find me and tell me. Me and Georgie have your back."

"Just don't get caught," you smirk.

"You won't take points away if you catch us, will you?"

You pull away from the cuddle and send him that beautifully, intimidating smile of yours. "Not if you promise to keep losing your Quidditch games."

"Low blow, your highness!" He laughs and then you're running away, giggling like a fool.

You manage to slip through the crowds and head toward the woods by the Shrieking Shack lookout, your giggles only getting louder and more frequent when you see Fred bounding closer and closer to you. Your cadence slows when the ground starts to feel icy under your boots, and sooner than you think, you feel arms wrap around your stomach and you squeal.

Fred's laugh vibrates against your back, and after a few pants of breath he speaks into your ear. "There's still something I wanted to show you."

"Oh?" You spin around in his hold. "That's right. What is it then?"

"Surprise. Follow me." He's hasty in his movements, as he takes your hand, running further into the woods. Then he rounds the corner of a large tree trunk, his fingers slip out of yours as he twists around to face you and then he's pulling you by your hips, grin on display.

Your heart flips when your back meets with the rough surface of the tree, bodies pressing into one another and then his mouth is hovering over yours. There's hunger in his eyes, yet he's waiting for your next move.

"Wow. 'I have something to show you'. That was so corny," you tease in a whisper.

He chuckles, feeling your lips just barely touch his, "but you loved it."

"I did. You're right again, Sir Weasley."

"Always am, your highness."

He squeezes your hips. You lift your chin and you kiss for a third time that day.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader smut #fred weasley smut #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x y/n

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abyssalzones · 2 months ago

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can you tell us about your interpretation of the better world universe!!!! especially curious how stan/mystery trio works into it

hell yesssss I definitely can. ABW is maybe my favorite niche gf thing and probably the only "AU" I care about but that may be due to the fact that it's an AU that exists in the canon and we know so little about it. so it has an established foundation that you're left to fill in the details with yourself... it's like a poke bowl to me. you can put anything in there

and since I felt like it here's a bonus pic of them living their best lives pestering ford

[explanation-y stuff under ze cut because I got very longwinded]

as for specifics of how I see everything working out, there's a few key points that establish why things happened differently from canon, the most important being:

Stan agrees to hide journal #3 somewhere

Ford reunites with fiddleford and they begin working together again

both of these are already confirmed in canon, the first being the most obvious "schism" between timelines. literally everything in ABW is the way it is because stan made a different decision. kind of crazy in terms of its implications: I feel like that moment in the basement is a really good example of how stan gets so few opportunities to shape her own life (while ford is in the picture...) because of her role as the 'black sheep' twin. it's not exactly a premeditated decision to push ford into the portal, it's her acting on feelings that have been bubbling unaddressed under the surface for 10-something years at that point, and only then does she have any sort of power over the "narrative" of both her life and the story itself, something that from her pov has been ford's story. and in the canon timeline, she says no.

so like, what the hell made her say yes in ABW's timeline? this question kind of haunts me because I feel like it has to be entirely dependent on what the inside of stan's head looked like at the time. it's possible something influenced her, but overall I think it's more interesting if ford did and said all the exact same things up until this point and it really was entirely dependent on stan's decision internally.

so stan says yes, goes on a big trip to the other side of the world somehow, and buries journal 3 somewhere probably never to be found again. yay! but, uh, going on a trip like ford was suggesting would... take weeks. that would leave ford alone again. and not to have my established thoughts informed by new material or anything but bill did give him 72 hours.

so, next order of business: how in the fuck would ford convince fiddleford to rejoin him??? I'm unsure between journal 3 and tbob's information how ford may have tried to reach out to him but it seems like fiddleford was pretty adamant about staying away from that guy, out of guilt or fear of bill/the portal or both. I don't think logically it would just be a matter of ford calling him enough times or finding out where he lives- and I think that's kind of getting away from the point of why ABW is the way it is too. if stan is suddenly making decisions that are influencing ford's life, I think it would be similarly interesting if fiddleford also possessed some unique autonomy in this scenario.

aka I think ford got fucked up badly (possibly involving losing an eye) and fiddleford found him half-dead while trying to burn his house down. [mabel voice] romance!

to clarify: I don't think fiddleford is obligated to take care of ford. a major part of him leaving the project was finally making the decision to leave a situation that was hurting him, that he'd been staying in entirely because he still cared about ford and felt on some level he could still help him (which gets broken with "I don't need you!") and I think that's a very reasonable decision on his part. but I also do have to think about all the times ford has been "the hero" in situations where fiddleford ends up hurt and helpless because of something traumatizing. I think it'd be fascinating to see that reversed and have fiddleford actively making the difficult, messy decision to take care of that guy even when they're on miserable terms. and so begins like a solid week of these two desperately trying to look out for eachother in a nightmare scenario where one of them probably needs to go to a hospital + keeps getting possessed off and on and the other is going through the worst addiction/withdrawal cycle of his life irt the memory gun. yay! (part of the reason this even works To Me also is heavily informed by the lack of secrets: if fiddleford is actively dressing that guy's wounds he can't really keep it all to himself anymore. crushingly intimate perhaps...)

stan gets back eventually. such is the context of this pic

from there it's a nebulous grab-bag of things I think could happen up to the foundation of the institute.

how do all three of these incredibly fucked up individuals get along? well they don't but then they do.

how do they get bill out of ford's head without performing amateur brain surgery? idk. my best guess is a fiddleford and stan bonding trip into ford's mindscape that potentially helps answer the first question. possibly utilizing the memory gun. shrugs.

what's up with that one picture you drew of parallel fidds holding the memory gun up to ford's head? well. okay that one might or might not be something that actually happened but the idea was just that ford is coping badly with a few specific things and I liked the idea of fiddleford "holding onto" something for him to remember and work through later when he's ready to deal with it, it's an interesting reversal of how he's normally more of a memory sink.

from the point in canon about them stabilizing the portal so that bill can't use it to get into their dimension anymore onward, I think it just becomes a matter of them living the lives they could've always had in canon without realizing it. hence "a better world." some cool tidbits I like to think about:

stan gets to transition much earlier (late 1990's perhaps?) and probably starts going by "lee" instead

she's also the institute's CMO and is mostly in it for going on business trips abroad with ford. and the money. obviously.

the institute probably also legitimately changes the world on a sociopolitical scale outside of just interdimensional travel since their research renders them uniquely untouchable and all three of them are trans (I'm cartoon logic-ing a little bit here just let me have this one)

ford is the eccentric bill nye esque face of the company, fiddleford is the backbone. that isn't to say ford doesn't do anything as I think he'd always moreso be in it for the science than the fame (though it is nice to be more than comfortable financially) but it's an open secret fiddleford keeps tabs on literally everything, he's still very security-oriented.

the northwest family now has a more prominent ongoing rivalry with the pines family that could be very funny to think about. they've taken all the LOGGING JOBS with their damn SCIENCE

part of the reason I thought ford should lose an eye is because I think having him wear an eyepatch would be a neat way to parallel stan's "role" as mr. mystery visually! stan wears an eyepatch for no legitimate reason to keep up appearances as a schlocky tourist trap host, but it also alludes to her being more than she seems under the surface. ford's eyepatch does sort of have a legitimate reason to exist, but he also could just wear his glass eye and it would probably be less "conspicuous." he chooses the eyepatch instead because it's part of his image as Stanford Pines, Founder of Oddology, and because it keeps him safe. there's also a little residual scarring there from damage to his eyelid/tarsal plate which could easily represent him hiding the more "damaged" aspects of himself under his successes. ouch.

I'm unsure if ford and stan would ever feel comfortable getting back in touch with their parents. I know a lot of people go that route with fan material but I don't think they should have to. I think they're much happier now having healed the rift between them on their own and getting to live successful lives for themselves, rather than to prove something to their father.

that being said I do think fiddleford gets in touch with emma-may and his son again and they end up on better terms with time and a Lot of effort. tate's family is now composed of his father, mother, "uncle" ford (in the ye olde gay closeted sense of referring to your dad's partner as an uncle), and auntie lee, and I like to think they go out on trips to the lake together often :]

also ford and fiddleford tie the knot unofficially (in the eyes of the government anyway) in 1990. owed to stan somehow getting "ordained" as a rabbi. don't ask me how.

the pines twins start visiting the institute from a younger age than they do irt visiting stan in the show-- but they're only permitted to come along on heavily-supervised interdimensional excursions once they turn 12. cue antics!

anyway, hopefully this extremely longwinded and loosely structured mess helped answer your question. I like ABW sooo so so much you guys

#sorry this took a while I wanted to draw something extra for it ^_^ and I've been busyyy #lab notes #askbox #lab discussion #lab creations #gravity falls

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flowerandblood · 3 months ago

Text

The Price of Pride (6/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, mutual masturbation, infidelity, smut, the angst, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power, manipulation ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Never before had the wooden ceiling of a bed seemed so interesting to her.

The Maester was trying to be gentle and his touch was respectful – she knew that, but still what he was doing, the fact that there were other people around behind the cream curtains made her tense, even though she knew the verdict would be one.

When the examination was finally completed she sighed quietly and swallowed hard, rising on her elbow – she lowered her skirt down thinking she wouldn't give them the satisfaction and cry – Maester's voice and what he said was like honey to her ears.

"She is a maiden, My King. I have no doubt."

A moment later, she heard the sound of a door opening and closing with a loud slam.

Prince Aemond gave everyone an expression of his fury at this obviously unfounded accusation.

She took a quiet breath as someone pulled aside one of the veils – the king's face seemed satisfied, as if not the end result but the fact that he had once again shown his brother who had the last word was his reward.

"I am relieved, dear cousin, that you have come to no harm under my brother's care. I hope you understand that in no way did I mean to offend you or undermine your virtue." He said lightly, knowing that she could not reply anything other than to confirm his certainly sincere and good intentions.

"I am grateful to you for your concern, Your Grace." She replied, looking him straight in the eye, to her surprise feeling neither bitterness nor regret.

This would at least cut off any further gossip about her and the tongue of the servant who had given her pleasure that day, as promised by the prince.

She guessed he would not leave it at that.

"I wish to see your dragon and judge for myself the value he will bring to the upcoming battles. I also want him to stay in the Dragon's Pit with the rest of the dragons and not with Vhagar." He said, and she nodded, knowing that there was no point in standing up.

This brother or another, what difference did it make.

"He is still wild and untamed, my King. Accustomed to freedom. I fear that sudden confinement may kill his spirit." She replied softly.

Aegon nodded.

"I may yet change my decision. For now, I want to see him."

In accordance with his desire, he, she and a retinue consisting of several members of the Kingsguard, including Ser Criston Cole, set off on horseback to Vhagar's lair where the two dragons rested.

When they arrived, she felt joy, or rather a new kind of it, one she had experienced for the first time when she saw Sheepstealer.

Her dragon squawked happily at the sight of her, coming quickly up to her on his paws, watching her from all sides, intrigued, paying no attention to the other newcomers.

He was as sweet as a baby, she thought with tenderness, lonely for long years, craving tenderness, understanding and attention as much as she did.

He was everything she was, which is why the moment she first looked into his eyes she knew she would succeed in taming him.

She knew what he needed and she was able to give it to him, and he reciprocated.

Her dragon was the only man she needed.

"Magnificent. Fierce. And large indeed. Bigger than Sunfyre. Very well." Exclaimed the King with a smile, clearly pleased and reassured.

When his brother was not next to him he felt in control of the situation again.

She stroked the muzzle of her dragon, for some reason also smiling, its scales under her skin hard and rough.

"We are at your service, my King." She replied, wanting to be sure they would leave her alone.

She just wanted to be close to her dragon, nothing more.

"Good. You and my brother will take turns patrolling the sky daily. This will relieve the burden on Vhagar and allow the prince to attend to other, equally important matters." He said, and she nodded.

"Present our subjects with our new dragon. Show them that we are stronger than ever." He commanded, and she held back the smile of amusement that pressed across her face.

Is that so?

Outside? Maybe.

But inside, they were one rotten fruit.

"My King."

Flying over King's Landing was a kind of liberation for her – she felt she was showing not only the world what she had become, but more importantly her father.

She hoped, feeling the wind in her hair, whirling on the Sheepstealer in the skies with laughter, that Daemon was throwing his cups in Dragonstone out of rage, cursing the day she was born.

Although she hated her heritage and her name, it was the dragon that saved her and gave her life meaning.

It felt like they understood each other without words, that one move of hers was enough to make him change his flight course to where she wanted or dive down.

Once they landed, she always spent a bit of time with him, lying on the grass beside him, stroking his muzzle – she wanted him to know that he wasn't just her tool that she used.

No.

She felt something completely different that filled her heart wonderfully.

Love.

Looking out of the corner of her eye at Vhagar lying in the distance, plunged into a deep sleep, completely ignoring them, she wondered if these were the feelings that Prince Aemond had for his dragoness.

You should fall to your knees before her, you fucking whore, not laugh.

This was not an expression of his pride then.

It was an expression of his deep affection for her.

She smiled at this thought, recognising that at last she understood him.

Her expression was gentle and contented when, walking down the corridor of the Red Keep with a guard who did not leave her side, she came across him, apparently heading for Vhagar's liege.

"Where have you been?" He asked disturbed, seeing her riding attire.

She sighed quietly, pulling her black leather gloves from her hands.

"The King ordered that we take turns patrolling the skies. I have done that duty today. You may rest." She said, and he swallowed hard, something expression in his face as if he felt discomfort.

Another thing he was taking away from him, she thought.

"Leave us." He directed his cold words to the guard. He nodded and walked away with the quiet clang of his steel armour.

The prince moved away towards the cloisters, and she moved with him.

He didn't want anyone to hear their conversation.

"What did you say to him?" He asked, looking sideways, as if he couldn't bear to see her.

"To whom?"

"To my brother. Did you betray me?" He asked coldly, throwing her a drawn-out, stern look.

She sighed heavily and shook her head, closing her eyes, tired after the physical exertion, not having the strength for his baseless accusations.

"How?" She asked, his jaw clenched, his body upright and tense.

"Don't play a fucking fool. You know perfectly well what I'm referring to."

She laughed at his words, shrugging her shoulders, bringing him to the brink of fury.

She could see it in his wide-open eye, in his feral, furious gaze.

"I know, but I haven't told him anything and I won't. It's not in my nature to complicate a situation where I'm comfortable. Being your enemy is not my desire. The lack of your unity drastically reduces my chances of survival, and having tamed the dragon, its value in my eyes has increased greatly." She said lightly, looking him straight in the eye, seeing that his hands entwined behind his back were clenched into fists.

He hated it when she spoke to him like that, but he couldn't do anything to her in public.

"I also wish for you to continue to teach me the language of Old Valyria. In return, I will report to you on what I am asked and what the King tells me to soothe your troubled soul." She hummed with a smile, watching with satisfaction as he drew in a loud breath and licked his lower lip, apparently trying not to use his hands on her long neck.

"Do we have an agreement, my Prince?" She asked, cocking her head.

He sighed, glancing sideways, and shook his head, clearly not believing that he had consented to such humiliation.

"In the library. Every day, right after supper."

She learned of Lady Floris Baratheon's arrival in the Red Keep from her maid – braiding some of her hair at the back of her head, she told her of what she had seen.

"Lady Floris arrived in a brown gown embroidered with gold thread. Her hair is black and long, pinned up in a braid, smoothed down in front, her forehead high, her gaze proud and solemn. Her smile, in my opinion, has no lightness or conviction." Said Lysa, and she giggled under her breath, looking at her and herself in the reflection of the mirror.

"What a harsh judgement. Perhaps it was that smile that the prince found so charming that he chose her." She replied lightly, thinking with amusement that her cousin was surely writhing in agony right now, entertaining his betrothed.

Good, she thought.

Let him suffer.

"Perhaps, however, the memory of that day must spend his sleep." Said Lysa, gracefully weaving one of her strands in with the rest of her hairstyle.

She blinked, intrigued.

"What do you mean?"

Lysa looked at her surprised, as if snapped out of her reverie.

"Don't you know, my Lady? It was on this day that Prince Aemond killed Prince Lucerys. That poor boy. His mother searched for his remains in madness and despair, but apparently there was nothing left of him but his cloak. He was devoured by Vhagar." She explained, and she swallowed hard, feeling a cold sweat run down her back.

He says that Luke's death was an accident, but I don't know if I believe him.

I don't recognise him anymore and I warn you that he's unpredictable.

She was sure she would eat her supper as usual in solitude, but it turned out that the King had held a small banquet and she was to attend.

Aegon wanted to show off her dragon and what she had done, while humiliating his brother and his betrothed, she thought wryly, walking there reluctantly.

When the door opened in front of her, she saw a long table, on either side of which sat the royal family and their loyal lords with their relatives.

She did not know where she should sit or what to do, the King, however, decided to take pity on her.

"Ah, here is my dear, fearless cousin. Come here, my Lady, I have assigned you a seat next to my brother. Perhaps your presence will lift his spirits." He called out, and she swallowed hard, lowering her gaze, knowing that she couldn't react to this, that she just had to survive it.

She sat down in the only empty seat, between her cousin and the king's wife, Helaena – she was pale and sad, staring off into the distance somewhere with empty eyes.

She still had not come to terms with the death of her son.

However, as she sank into her grief and sorrow, the King, on the contrary, was bubbling over with a desire for revenge, ready for action.

When she glanced sideways, all she saw was his hand clenched into a fist, his familiar scent reached her nostrils – she swallowed quietly, twisting in her seat, feeling a pleasant pulsing between her thighs, for some reason remembering how pleasant the touch of his fingers was there, sinking into her damp folds.

She reached for her wine cup and took a loud sip from it, not bothering to look to the side, her gaze fixed on the Queen Alicent who sat opposite her.

"My Lady." She heard an unfamiliar female voice directed in her side and she let out a quiet breath, taking another sip from her goblet, hearing her cousin twist restlessly in his chair.

She looked at Floris Baratheon and forced herself to give her the kindest, warmest smile she could afford. Floris was also smiling; had it not been for her gaze, she might have found her expression even sympathetic.

However, her eyebrows arched in some sort of compassion, a sign that she wanted to show her false understanding.

"I congratulate you on taming a dragon. No one expected you to succeed." She said softly, shaking her head as if filled with sincere admiration.

The corner of her mouth twitched, but she managed not to laugh.

"I didn't believe it myself, my Lady. I was convinced that I would burn and become dust." She replied lightly, not taking her eyes off her.

Several people at the table chuckled at her words as Floris watched her for a moment, playing with the small gold ring on her heart finger.

"The gods have spared you. Will you stand to fight your father?" She asked, as if giving her a challenge of sorts.

"Enough." She heard her cousin's impatient voice between them directed at his betrothed.

She, however, found that she was happy to answer her.

"My dragon lacks experience and composure. I will be a mere support for the King and the Prince." She replied, and Floris leaned back, intrigued.

"Support indeed needed." Aegon added, popping a grape into his mouth, biting through it with a loud crunch. "On which we all agree. Now, music!"

For the rest of the feast, she pretended to be very focused on her piece of roast, which she ate slowly, knowing that she couldn't flee immediately if she didn't want to offend the King – she didn't hold him in special esteem but she knew that he held her in some sort of affection, and after what he had accused her of after his son's death, she feared that one wrong move on her part would be enough for her to fall back into his disfavour.

True, the responsible parties had been found and the King himself had brought them justice, however, she could not let him begin to think again that she had helped her father let them into the keep.

He had to be sure that she was faithful to him.

They both had to be sure of it.

Him and his brother.

She swallowed hard, pulled out of her reverie, feeling a shudder when her cousin's knee pressed against hers. She was sure he simply wanted to change position, he, however, spread himself out comfortably, leaving his leg where it was.

Should she move away?

Do nothing?

What was that supposed to mean?

She glanced sideways at his hand out of the corner of her eye – she could see that his fingers were tapping the tabletop in some nervous, impatient gesture.

Their lessons.

Was he trying to tell her to leave and go to the library before he did, so as not to frustrate his betrothed?

She wanted to ask him that, but couldn't, so she decided she would do what she thought appropriate and simply stood up, nodding her head at the King.

"Your Grace. I will retire now, if you will allow me." She said softly, and Aegon nodded.

"I allow it." He replied, his voice through the amount of wine he had managed to drink like a babble.

Gods help me, she thought as she bowed to him and the Queen Dowager, without bestowing even a single glance on the prince or his betrothed.

She waited in her chamber for half an hour, changing in the meantime into the more comfortable, casual silk robe the Queen had given her, throwing it over her nightgown, tying it around her waist.

When she finally stepped outside her guard furrowed his brow and shook his head.

"Prince Aemond wanted to meet me in the library. Take me there." She said – the man hesitated and sighed heavily, indicating with his hand for her to go ahead.

Her cousin was already waiting for her – he gave her one protracted glance from over his open books, his eye open wide as if he was surprised by her appearance, candles all around him.

He nodded at her to sit beside him in the chair, and she did so, leaving her guard outside the door.

He moved one of the books towards her and opened it to a page he apparently wanted to discuss with her.

"We'll start with the basics. The most important and simplest terms." He said matter-of-factly, sliding another book towards her and leaned in, his clearly defined cheekbone close, too close, pointing his finger at one of the words.

"Jelmor." He hummed. "North."

"Jelmor." She whispered, feeling the tension in all the muscles of her body.

"Ñāqon. East."

"Nāqon."

"No. Roll your tongue at the n." He said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, something in his gaze from which her heart struck harder.

It seemed to her that his iris was black.

There was something obscenely intimate in his bent figure, in his slightly parted lips, in his proximity, the place between her thighs all swollen, increasingly moist and warm.

"Ñāqon." She whispered.

"Better." He hummed, his gaze never leaving her face even though his finger moved on to the next words, as if he knew this book by heart. "Vēzor. South."

"Vēzor."

"Endia. West."

"Endia."

"Muña. Mother." He said, something flashed dangerously in his gaze, as if he knew exactly what her reaction would be and he was not wrong.

She froze, clasping her hands on her thighs, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad, the tightness in her throat indicating that she felt pain.

"Muña."

"Mmm. Kepa. Father."

She swallowed hard, looking at him with eyes glazed from tears, feeling her body begin to twitch. His lips parted slightly, as if what he was doing to her, the fact that she was vulnerable aroused him.

"Repeat." He whispered.

"Kepa." She said, feeling a single, heavy tear run down her cheek.

Kepa.

She shuddered, looking up at him in horror as his hand rose to her cheek, his thumb lazily rubbing the wet mark from her face.

"Trēsy. Son." He continued, his voice like the sound of water, calm and quiet.

Tender, as if he were moved.

Why?

She sighed as his hand traveled lower, his index finger running over her jaw.

"Tresy."

"No." He said. "Trēsy. The letter 'ē' needs to be read deeper, as if you want to sing."

"Trēsy."

"Tala. Daugther."

She shook her head, pressing her lips together, feeling that she couldn't do it, the feeling as if he was driving needle after needle into her heart made it difficult for her to get anything out.

She sighed, closing her eyes as he leaned lower, in some natural reflex pressing his forehead against hers, his hand sinking into the skin of her neck, his warm, excited breath enveloping her face.

She involuntarily clenched her thighs together, feeling the wonderful, familiar pulsing and tickling between them.

"Tala."

"Hāedar." He exhaled, something in his voice from which she felt her nipples harden, peeking through from under the fabric of her robe. "Little sister."

She opened her eyes, feeling a shiver run down her spine.

And that was a mistake.

He was looking straight into her face.

She sighed when she felt his other hand on her knee, moving slowly up to her thigh.

"Hāedar." She exhaled, feeling her cunt begin to leak with desire against her will.

"Lēkia." He said, as if he had done something definitive, a quiet moan breaking from her throat as his hand closed over her womanhood. "Older brother."

"Lēkia." She moaned and whimpered as his lips pressed against hers in an aggressive, loud, sticky kiss full of their saliva and panting, her palm touching his scarred cheek, drawing a low murmur of delight from his throat.

She touched him.

She sighed as she let her hand sink into his smooth white hair, for some reason seeking comfort in him, an escape from the cold, bleak loneliness and emptiness that filled her heart.

They sank again and again into each other's soft, fleshy skin, his tongue bursting between her teeth as his hand lifted the fabric of her robe, the other clenched in her curls.

She would have cried out in shocking delight had it not been for the fact that his lips muffled all the sound she made of herself as the tips of his fingers dug into the silken folds of her womanhood, dripping and throbbing with lust.

He groaned into her throat when he felt how unashamedly wet she was for him, and she gasped when his free hand slipped from her hair to her wrist, grasping it, drawing her to his body, pressing it against the bulge in his breeches.

He murmured and licked her encouragingly as her fingers tentatively ran over the outline of his swollen manhood, hidden beneath the leather material, hard, long and twitching.

He let go of her hand, embracing her around the waist and pulling her closer as he made sure she was going to give him what he wanted, their sighs of desire melting between their plump lips as his fingers pushed against her hot slit.

She spread her legs wider, wanting to feel it, wanting him to do it to her, but they both jumped away from each other as if burned when they heard the creak of the door opening.

Her cousin wiped his hand, sticky with her moisture in his breeches, looking at his betrothed's figure, pale, and she lowered back the material of her robe, staring blankly at the books open before her.

Was she able to see by their faces, by their quickened breaths what had happened?

She felt shame at the thought that she shouldn't have done this.

She was his betrothed.

She was the one he should be touching like this.

She was the one he should spend the evening with, learning about her body.

"The guards told me I would find you here, my Prince. I did not know you would have company." She said calmly, however, disappointment and understandable annoyance could be heard in her tone of voice.

She swallowed hard, feeling that the material beneath her buttocks was wet with her moisture, her swollen walls pulsing greedily around nothing, begging to feel his fingers again, her nipples hard and sore, clearly outlined beneath her robe.

"I am teaching my cousin the language of Old Valyria. It is the only way she can communicate with her dragon." He said, feigning composure, looking ahead but not at her even though she stopped right beside him.

She touched one of the books and flipped a page, remaining silent for a moment.

"May I join you? I would also like to learn the language of your ancestors, my love." She said, her hand on his shoulder.

She looked at him and saw that he had closed his eye, as if he felt discomfort the moment Lady Floris touched him.

He swallowed loudly and opened his eyelid, his gaze helpless and childlike, filled with pain.

"I will not be able to concentrate with you standing by my side, my Lady." He whispered, his voice weak, as if he had run out of strength.

Floris's hand slid from his shoulder to his forearm, his figure tense, his lips clamped into a tight line.

He didn't look at her.

"Does my presence disturb you, my love?" Floris asked, and she twisted in her seat, deciding that this conversation was too private.

These were their problems, their betrothal, their worries.

Why was she allowing herself to be dragged into this?

"I'll leave you alone. With your permission." She said quickly, wanting to get up, his gaze shifting to her, sharp and angry.

"Daor, hāedar."

She froze in mid-motion with her hands on the table, looking at him in disbelief, feeling her walls clench around nothing at his words.

No, little sister.

Little sister.

She swallowed hard feeling her lips part involuntarily, her eyebrows arching in helplessness, the heat that spread across her chest strangely pleasant and reassuring.

Floris looked at him then at her and shook her head.

"What did you say, my love?"

"I don't allow it. We are not finished yet. Soon her dragon will move to fight at my side and she must be ready. I ask that you never interrupt us again. If you wish, we will take a walk around the royal gardens tomorrow, just as you desire." He said emotionlessly, as if trying to calm a whimpering child.

Floris swallowed hard and looked at her in a way from which she felt discomfort in her stomach, a sense of humiliation, frustration and irritation in her gaze.

"Is it because she is your cousin? Like any Targaryen you prefer your own kin?" She asked quietly, both of them bouncing when his fists slammed into the table, and he sprang from his seat, towering over his betrothed as if he wanted to tear her apart.

She too stood up, grabbing his arm in some helpless, naïve gesture.

"Lēkia." She said pleadingly.

Floris's lips clenched looking at the fact that she dared to touch him, that her prince looked at her and not his betrothed, that it was her opinion that counted, her word that could stop him.

And then Floris' gaze fled lower, to his breeches, and she froze, pale, seeing exactly her answer to all her concerns.

Her hand let go of him when his nostrils stopped twitching with rage, when his jaw relaxed into an expression a little softer, though still frustrated.

He finally looked at his betrothed and licked his lower lip, as if trying to control himself.

"I will consider that you never said it, my Lady. Otherwise I would have to recognise that you intended to insult me and my family. And that would mean, in turn, that my betrothed is a fool. Is that how it is, my Lady?" He gasped in a voice filled with mockery, from which she swallowed hard, lowering her gaze.

Floris Baratheon looked at him with eyes full of tears, and then her gaze turned to her, her lips quivering with rage and grief.

"No, my Prince. I am not." She said, turned and walked away, leaving them alone.

She was unable to look at him – the silence in the chamber, his taut silhouette standing beside her made her feel like her wetness was dripping from between her thighs straight onto the stone floor beneath her feet.

"You may leave." He said finally.

She nodded and moved towards the door on soft legs, walking out into the corridor, thinking that they had both accomplished some amazing feat by not simply fucking each other on that table.

She sighed loudly, running her hand over her face, thinking that maybe she wasn't such a bad person.

She figured that during their next lessons she wouldn't sit so close to him, that she wouldn't look at him or tempt him.

That she wouldn't let him touch her anymore.

She blinked, looking around, only noticing after a moment that there was no guard who should be watching her.

She turned when she heard the rustling of a gown behind her, something long and hard hit her head with all its force, and she fell to the floor with a thud.

It seemed a moment before she lost consciousness that she heard the breathy voice of her cousin's betrothed above her, only a quiet hiss left her lips.

"Whore."

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driverlando · 6 months ago

Text

✧.* FAST AND FRIGHTFUL

synopsis - charles fellow drivers doubt he’s actually going out with you, until you both make a grand gesture in the paddock (actress!reader x Charles Leclerc)

a/n: I’m very new to this smau so please do reblog and show your support! thank you <3

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc and 113, 368 others

yourusername happy ABIGAIL day! Hope you all have a bloody good time watching it 😉🩸

view all 1,894 comments

yourfan1 You were SO good! Loved the movie

yourfan2 loved the performance

alishaweir123 🩸🩸🩸🩸

yourfan3 how do you make covered in blood look good?!?! 😩

charles_leclerc you were amazing

↳ charlesfan1 a cross over no one expected

↳ yourfan4 so are we all just going to ignore the fact that Charles leclerc commented?

—

LOVE IN VICTORY: CHARLES LECLERC CELEBRATES MONACO GRAND PRIX WIN WITH PADDOCK PDA

Monaco was not only the stage for Charles Leclerc’s historic triumph at the Grand Prix but also the backdrop for a heartwarming display of love as the Formula 1 sensation celebrated his victory with a passionate kiss from horror movie actress Y/N, confirming their blossoming romance in front of cheering fans and thrilled friends.

A Moment of Joy and Affection

Amidst the jubilant atmosphere of the Monaco paddock, Charles Leclerc and Y/N shared a tender moment that stole the spotlight from the race itself. As Charles basked in the glory of his hometown victory, he rushed to y/ns side, her eyes shining with pride and admiration.

In a scene reminiscent of a Hollywood romance, Charles and Y/N embraced, their lips meeting in a sweet and spontaneous kiss that spoke volumes about the depth of their affection for each other. Cameras captured the intimate moment as cheers erupted from the crowd, congratulating the couple on their shared success and newfound love.

As news of their romance spread like wildfire, fans took to social media to express their delight and admiration for the happy couple. “I’ve always shipped Charles and Y/N!” tweeted one enthusiastic supporter. “They’re the perfect match!”

A Confirmation of Romance

While rumors of their relationship had been swirling for weeks, after Charles commented on y/ns post about her new horror movie Abigail, Charles and Y/N’s public display of affection in the paddock served as an official confirmation of their romance. With the world watching, the couple made no attempt to hide their feelings, embracing each other openly and without reservation.

From Victory Lane to Love Lane

For Charles and Y/N, their celebration in the paddock was about more than just victory—it was a celebration of their love and shared happiness. As they savored the sweet taste of success, they also embraced the joy of being together, united in their passion for each other and their respective careers.

What Lies Ahead for the Power Couple?

As the celebrations continued into the night, Charles and Y/N looked ahead to a future filled with love, laughter, and shared adventures. With their careers flourishing and their hearts entwined, they are ready to take on whatever challenges come their way, secure in the knowledge that they have each other by their side.

—

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,856,919 others

charles_leclerc Final Monaco Grand Prix post I promise! This one’s dedicated to this beauty, thanks for being there for me yesterday! love you mon chérie @yourusername ❤️🤍

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oscarpiastri I finally believe you 🫡

↳ landonorris hey, don’t believe everything you see online 🤣😉

↳ charles_leclerc get out of my comment section

yourusername I love you!! so unbelievably proud of you 🫶

[liked by charles_leclerc]

charlesfan1 THE PRINCE OF FERARI AND MONACO EVERYBODY!!

y/nfan1 you smashed it yesterday 😁

#charles leclerc imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #formula one x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc social media au #Charles leclerc fanfiction

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hoshigray · 1 year ago

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𝐓𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐞, 𝐔𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 | getō suguru

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: rigger! Geto x fem/afab! reader - shibari; rope bondage (boxtie, breast, crotch, elbow) - blindfolded - gagged (handkerchief) - fingering (f! receiving) - pleasure denial - oral (m! receiving) - pet names (angel, baby, little/pretty bird, sweetie, ) - mention of drool/saliva and tears.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: c'mon now, y'all KNOW geto would be into rope play. matter of fact, it's canon cuz I'm part of gege's assistant team, lol. also, tysm for 2.5k, y'all are too kind ♡

inspired by a talk b/w me and @ramonathinks (ily hon!!)

"Thank you so much for the help, Geto."

"No problem, now be good and always behave from now on."

"Oh, I will!" The spiky raven-haired offers a warm smile to the woman as two men usher her out of his room, the three dark figures seen from the sliding door disappearing with footsteps heading to the corner of the hallway. Geto then gets up from the tatami flooring and stretches.

He then stands and looks at the door for three seconds. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.

After a full minute, his purple eyes peer at the sliding door to his right, taking light steps when approaching the room next door. Geto hovers an ear next to the door, trying to hear something from the other side if it contrasts with the silence of the room he’s currently in. He gives it a few more seconds before sighing through his nostrils, a sly smile creeping up. Geto brings a hand to the handle, finally sliding it to the right and revealing what was inside.

And to his mischievous glee, his smile grows from ear to ear. Because it wasn’t a what that had him chuckling to himself — it was a who.

And who laid on the tatami floor before him was you. You were nude, your body covered in red rope, your mouth gagged by a red handkerchief, and your eyes covered in a black blindfold.

There, you lay on your side on the floor. The red rope around your body restrains your arms and hands behind your back in a boxtie position, and your bare chest prompts up for exposure. The cord separates your breasts to each side, leaving a unique and alluring design that crosses throughout your abdomen and down south. No undergarments in sight; therefore, your chasm was out in the room’s air, the red cable slithering down between your folds, leaving a wet residue on the strict texture.

And, good Lord. The whimpers you use to comfort yourself in this situation. All naked and isolated to the confines of this dark room, away from light and hospitality. Your meek voice is the only thing that holds familiarity to you. That is until you hear Geto close the door behind himself, the sounds of his light footsteps dancing around the room.

“Well, hello there, little bird.” The warm tone in his voice sent shivers down your spine, for you could hear the words parade condescendingly. Geto walks around the room, lighting up the candles. The smell of smoke and the rosy scent enter your nostrils. “Sorry for leaving you in the dark like this. Were you lonely?”

He can only hear the mumbles confined from the handkerchief, which he can only assume was confirmation. “I apologize, baby. I had to leave our little session to tend to some business with some monkeys.” He said the last word with such slight vexation; you were bright to listen hard enough to catch it. Geto comes to you and sits next to your restricted body. “But now, you have my full attention, sweetie.”

Cold, slender fingers touch your cheek, causing you to jerk at the sensation. It makes him snicker. “You know why I have you like this, yeah?” His palm cups your cheek, thumb swiping off drool at the corner of your mouth. “I saw you, my pretty bird, in the garden yesterday. You looked so beautiful and pure with the world — my world.” They snake down to your neck and brush your collarbone. His fingertips now become warm from the friction of your enchanting skin. “Then, I saw some parasite — a man worth for sore eyes — come and talk to you. He even had the gall to touch your hands with his filthy palms.” The hand now comes to your breast, a small gasp when they brush your nipples. “And you, such an amiable and accepting person, let him touch you like that. Unbeknownst to my vision.” Those same digits tweeze the bud or your mound, resulting in a sharp pant covered by the cloth in your mouth. “Who? Who told you to let that happen? Hmm?”

Of course, he doesn’t wait for your response; what response? Your muffled moans and puffs of air? How silly. Geto brings his mouth to your other nipple, taking it in and sucking on it. The lapping motions of his tongue and the grazes of his teeth distract you from his hand snaking down with the red rope to your cunt. His digits now intrude on your southern lips, playing with your wetness in a teasing manner. And when you feel his forefinger about to enter your slit, you can’t help but sway your hips to invite him in. And it’s detected by the raven-haired man.

“Oh? You want me to put them inside, baby?” He already knows the answer; it’s no surprise when you nod helplessly. However, he clicks his tongue. “I don’t know, angel. Or should I even call you that anymore — how can an angel of mine be stained by the stench of such a foul monkey, huh.” His fingers move away from your cunt, now toying with the flesh of your inner thigh. Oh, the way your brows trench and how you whine for him. It always awakens something in him — something carnal. And how can he subject himself to the cries of his little bird? “Alright, alright. But if you really want me so badly, prove it to me. You can do that, right?”

Geto removes his hand and mouth from your body, your chasm and nipples feeling outcasted from his warm touch. You jolt when the handkerchief in your mouth loosens and soon meets the tatami floor. Yet, your vision is still shielded by the black cloth. “Su–Suguru,” you chant his name in trembles. “Please forgive me, I—“

“I will forgive you,” the sound of clothing rustling fills the space, indicating that he’s now removing his monk attire. The black yukata comes undone, revealing his upper body while he pulls his pants down to his thighs. Something touches the plump of your lips, the tip seeking entry to your oral cavity. “Just suck me off like you always do, and all will be forgiven. You’re still my angel, right?” And with that, you accept the head of his cock with patient yearning, hallowing your cheeks while your tongue welcomes the underside of his limb. And it takes everything in Geto’s power not to rut your face with relentless vigor. He wants to take this slow first. He needs to see if you deserve his kindness. “Mmmm, good. Just like that…”

A few bobs to the base of his length is enough to put you in a trance, especially with the blindfold hindering your sense of vision, forcing you to rely on others. His smell is so intoxicating, the taste of his precum overcoming your tastebuds and the slap of his balls on your chin. Unhurried thrusts slowly but surely dial up to speed by the seconds. Your euphoric hums become frequent as his dick hits the back of your throat, every inch of him sinking deep into your mouth and throat that strains of saliva streak down to the dent of your chin. Your toes curl when he grinds his pelvis down to your lips, nose pressed to the pubes that fill your nostrils with his raw scent. Good God, it feels so good, the throbbing sensation in your chasm between your legs flourishing within.

And it goes the same for Geto, too. Both his hands find purchase on your head, keeping you in position for him to rut your face. Your tight throat grips him so nicely, the gummy walls holding onto him so deliciously that he can’t fight the wanton need anymore. Erratic hits to your face become apparent, making your mouth soaped with saliva that drips down to the room flooring. And you take the jabs to the back of your throat with ease, mewling on his cock with pleasure while being used like a toy as the head of his shaft bullies your insides.

He pulls his head back, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as his body jerks to the electric shocks climbing up. He’s close/ So, so close. “…Haaahh—Mmmph!! Damn, you feel so good for me…I’m cumming, angel. Gonna—Ahhhh! Christ…Hmmph!!” With gritted teeth, Geto drills his dick deep within your throat, the warm fluid excreting out his glans greeting its velvety walls. Blissful hums from you vibrate your throat, sending shivers to Geto while he experiences his crescendo.

When he’s finally done with his high and his load is inside you, he gradually removes his length from you. The tip of his cock resting on your tongue, which licks off any excess come. He then moves to free your shut eyelids from the black blindfold, your eyes fluttering at the scene of the warmly dimmed room, and Geto is now inches away from your face. Your watery eyes sparkle from the candlelight, and tears strike down and slide down your breast until the red rope captures it. “Forgive me, Suguru. I will always be yours. Only yours…”

He gives you a playful sneer, using a finger to wipe a tear from your cheek. He'd be a fool if he let you off the hook, especially now when you look at him as if he's your entire world. That's all he wants from the person he loves more than anything.

“You’re forgiven. And now, my pretty bird,” you can see the slight devious glint that harbors in his dark, violet eyes.

“I shall reward you.”

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fractualized · 6 months ago

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A while ago I got under someone's skin for referencing Joker's surprising delayed reaction to killing Jason Todd, and since then I've been thinking it's worth digging into as an interesting element of Joker's characterization.

Of course, first thing's first: Jason's murder in Batman (1940) #427, as originally presented in 1988.

Jason has just reconnected with his biological mother, Sheila Haywood, at a famine relief camp in Ethiopia— and he's discovered that Joker is blackmailing her with information about her criminal past. She gets him truckloads of medical supplies to sell on the black market, and Joker restocks the trucks with toxin. While Bruce races to stop a tampered truck, Jason decides to help his mother on his own. When he discloses he's Robin, however, Sheila betrays him to Joker, not only to stay on Joker's good side but because she's actually been embezzling money from the organization she works for this whole time. She's afraid an investigation prompted by Batman and Robin's appearance would expose this fact.

So Sheila stands by as Jason is felled by Joker and his goons, and then the crowbarring starts.

It's bad! When we return later, Jason is presumably dead.

While Joker isn't shocked that he's murdered a child, he does have an unexpected reaction to Sheila's point. He hadn't really been thinking about what he was doing, implying that he hadn't intended to kill Jason. He just got carried away, whoopsie! He didn't do this to get at Batman; he wasn't thinking about Batman at all. Now, however, he's concerned about how Batman will react.

Joker thinks Jason is already dead. The purpose of the bomb is to get rid of the evidence of his involvement, including Sheila. Joker is not broken up about what he did, but he does have a sense that he's gone a step too far and he doesn't want Batman to know about it. At least for now!

In the end, while Jason wakes and he and his mother try to save each other, they're trapped in the warehouse when the bomb goes off. Bruce makes it back only in time to find a dying Sheila, who tells him it was Joker. When Bruce finds Jason, Jason gets no last words. He's already dead, and Bruce is devastated.

A clue from Joker leads Bruce to the United Nations in New York, and there, infamously, Bruce learns that Joker has been made the ambassador from Iran. Joker is now protected from prosecution, and Batman going after him risks an international incident. Bruce still very much wants to, but Superman stops him.

Well, mostly Superman. I recommend reading Batman #429 to see Bruce's full thought process on this. He is furious and constantly thinking about finally ending Joker— but he also questions his mental state. He still wonders if he can hold Joker responsible if he believes Joker is insane. He uses phrases like "what happened to Jason" like it was a natural disaster, not murder. He even confronts Joker to give him one last chance to turn himself in to Arkham Asylum. Bruce is in a kind of denial, still grabbing at how things usually go.

But back to Joker. Evidently, he's no longer worried that Batman will find out he killed Robin. Joker admits to it immediately.

I assume Joker realized there was no point in denying it. Is Batman going to think it's a coincidence that Robin got blown up when Joker was around? Though Bruce does say it's Joker's taunts that 100% confirm for him that the clown was responsible, pointing again to Bruce still grasping for reasons to not break his rule in his grief.

By the end of the issue, Joker has naturally tried to kill the entire United Nations assembly, which instantly made him free game. So Bruce pursues him to a helicopter, and an in-air scuffle ensues in which Bruce explicitly prevents Joker from being killed by friendly fire, evidently so he can decide how Joker will die. Bruce jumps out of the helicopter, abandoning Joker to a fiery crash. However, despite Bruce's (supposed) intentions, Joker's body is nowhere to be found. The clown lives!

So that's it, right? Joker felt some unease about killing Jason initially, but in a short time, he was happy to gloat about it to Batman's face.

But when Joker reappears in Batman #450, in 1990, he is not triumphant. He's holed up in a dilapidated building, where he learns someone is impersonating him.

How often do we see Joker upset by murders? When the story returns to him, we learn more about his mental state.

With all of Joker's cackling glee at the things he's done, coming close to actual death in the helicopter crash has jarred him— and not just the crash, but the murder that led to it. He recoils from the memory of what he did to Jason. It's why he can't see the joke anymore. It's set apart from his previous crimes. It's too far.

Which is not at all to say that Joker is completely broken up about Jason. By the end of #450, he rallies and sets out to go after his copycat and restore his reputation to his liking.

In Batman #451, though, Joker is still plagued by doubts along the way.

Even when he overcomes those doubts, claiming the mantle as the one and only Joker when his copycat dies by falling into acid, Joker challenges Gordon to finally kill him. It's reminiscent of The Killing Joke, the first time Joker went too far. But like TKJ, Gordon and Batman decide to get Joker back to Arkham against their more vengeful instincts.

Joker's also decided Arkham is just what he needs. Outside, he's plagued by the reality of what he's done; in Arkham, he can settle back into his insanity and stop caring about it again.

So after that, Joker has no second thoughts about killing Jason, right? After all, he largely references the murder in callous terms. In-universe this makes sense as Joker revising history in his own head, particularly as more stories portray his effort to be more monster than man. Monsters don't have qualms about murder! But this is comics, so we can also presume that not all Joker writers know or remember #450/451, which I think is a shame. I find stories in which Joker expresses even just a degree of vulnerability to be more interesting than those where he's just mwahaha evil.

I have seen a few other bat stories bring some nuance into Joker's perception of Jason's death, though.

First up is the particularly nuanced "Fool's Errand" in Detective Comics (1937) #726, published in 1998. Bruce visits Joker in Arkham to get information on how to find a kidnapped girl who's running out of time. It just so happens Joker arranged this kidnapping for a particular day.

I strongly recommend this issue for batjokes fans, as it revolves around Joker talking the case through with Batman in his cell to help him figure out more clues to a crime Joker himself planned. Even with Bruce beating Joker up, the conversational tone feels almost friendly. They're just doing their usual thing.

Well, sort of. Bruce has already said he's not in the mood, and he interrupts their conversation to say so again.

Joker could insist that Batman stay and keep playing the game, and needle him for being unwilling to merely talk to Joker to rescue this child. Instead, Joker gives up her location.

And Bruce does come back as predicted.

So that was Joker's nefarious plan. He wanted to restore some hope to Bruce's cynical soul to be sure that his future failures would hurt even more. But it sure seems the middle didn't go the way Joker expected, when he recognized Batman just wasn't going to play the game as usual.

Joker doesn't jump into taunting. He doesn't answer Bruce at first. He's withdrawn and reflective. He's got something else on his mind on this anniversary of the second Robin's death, and he knows that Bruce does, too. Perhaps not forcing Batman to play was a small gesture, acknowledging the difficulty of the day, remembering how things changed. And what does that gesture cost Joker when he still gets the outcome he wants?

Second example is actually also called "Fool's Errand," this one from Robin (1993) #85, published in 2001. This is a fun one in which Joker discusses his interactions and frustrations with the Robins.

But while Joker indicates more than once that he wants to fight Batsy alone, after he talks about killing Jason, this is the next page:

Joker does not then say he was relieved when another Robin showed up, but still. He's acknowledged again that when he murdered Jason, things were not right. As angry as the birdies make him, they're a key component in the game.

Then we come back to "Once More, With Feeling!" in Harley Quinn (2000) #25, from 2002. Harley's been playing double-agent against Batman with Joker, and she and Joker have this exchange.

Joker typically makes light of murdering Robin, but it seems that when he's with just about his only confidante, he lets other feelings about it burst out.

There's also a flashback to DitF in Batman: Gotham Knights #44 in 2003. We get an exchange between Bruce and Joker before Bruce jumps out of the helicopter.

Joker laughs as the helicopter dives, ready to die, but before that, he seems resigned. He doesn't throw in a real dig about murdering Jason, and he doesn't gloat that he's finally gotten Batman to kill him. He acknowledges he crossed a line.

Lastly, there's a 2006 exchange between, well, Joker and Jason himself in "All They Do is Watch Us Kill, Part 2" as part of Under the Red Hood in Batman (1940) #649. Jason has kidnapped Joker as batbait, and when Joker needles him, Jason needles him back.

Joker regularly extolls his own crimes, but suddenly one of his victims mockingly accuses him of putting up a front, of not being as coldhearted and untouchable as he wants to seem. Maybe Joker does doubt what he's doing and retreats under the cover of madness so he doesn't have to think about it— just as he did in Batman #451.

I'm not sure if there are other examples of Joker expressing anything but mocking glee about Jason's death. I do know of times he's shown a sort of fondness for Jason (such as in The Man Who Stopped Laughing #4, Gotham War: Red Hood #2, Suicide Squad: Get Joker #3), but that's not really the same thing. Joker could've seen Red Hood as his and Batman's Frankenstein child without feeling any squeamishness about killing him in the first place.

But if anyone knows of any other moments where Joker does not act like killing Jason is absolutely his most favorite thing he ever did, do share!

#joker #jason todd #my jibber-jabber

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aphroditelovesu · 1 year ago

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Valyrian Heritage | Yan!Mom Rhaenyra Targaryen, Yan!Dad Laenor Velaryon

— summary: Being the only legitimate child of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon is not an easy task and you have learned the truth the hard way.

❝warnings: is not compatible with canon, Reader is referred to as having classic Valyrian characteristics, mention of violence, insults to the Velaryon brothers, and yandere platonic relationships, messy writing.

❝ 🐉 lady l: I don't know if it was good and I apologize for that. This imagine focuses more on the drama and I would love to write a sequel if anyone wants! Good reading and drink plenty of water. Love you all.

❝word count: 1,877.

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen's screams could be heard throughout most of the Red Keep.

The princess had gone into labor over two hours ago and everyone was looking forward to the birth of Rhaenyra and Laenor's first child. Even though some had different motives and some were more selfish than others, anxiety could still be felt.

After what seemed like days of excruciating pain, a loud sound of crying was heard inside Rhaenyra's room.

''Shh...'' Rhaenyra whispered to the crying baby in her arms, trying to calm them down. She had no experience with this, however, this was her first child.

But she loved them. Oh, and how she loved them. Rhaenyra never thought she could love someone as much as she loved her child the first moment she held them in her arms.

She knew she would do anything for them.

Laenor entered the room at the exact moment the baby finally stopped crying and was about to fall asleep. Rhaenyra looked at him sternly and her husband was silent.

He approached silently and Rhaenyra handed him the baby.

''They are beautiful.'' Laenor whispered, moved. They looked exactly like their parents, the very definition of a valyrian. A few silver strands, its father's nose, its mother's skin, and beautiful dark purple eyes when they opened their eyes for the first time.

''They are.'' Rhaenyra confirmed, sitting down again. She was very tired and wanted to rest for a while.

''What's their name?'' Laenor murmured, looking fondly at the baby in his arms. So perfect, his child was so perfect.

Rhaenyra thought for a few minutes and then smiled, ''(Y/N) Targaryen.''

Laenor faced his wife and smiled in agreement, ''(Y/N) Velaryon.''

Rhaenyra smiled at her husband. Yes, Velaryon and Targaryen. It didn't really matter as this child was the product of both sides and she knew she would care for and protect them no matter what.

It was with these thoughts and the comfort in knowing that her child was being well looked after by the drooling father who cooed lovingly at the baby, that Rhaenyra finally allowed herself to fall asleep.

Later that day, Rhaenys and Corlys went to visit (Y/N). Laena could not be present, unfortunately, but she had sent a letter congratulating her brother and cousin on the birth of their child. Rhaenys had this letter with her when she entered the room with her husband.

Rhaenyra was holding her baby protectively and Laenor was glued to her side, arms crossed and staring at Alicent suspiciously.

Alicent had also entertained the idea of meeting her grandchild and Rhaenyra didn't seem willing to let her stepmother get her hands on her child.

''Let me see my grandchild!'' Corlys said excitedly and approached the protective mother. Rhaenyra looked at him for a few seconds, sighed and handed the baby to her father-in-law.

''They look like you, Laenor.'' Rhaenys commented after picking up her grandchild. Laenor smiled proudly.

In fact, (Y/N) looked like him even though they were so young. Laenor was sure that when they grow up they will be just like him. A powerful feeling took over Laenor's body. And he smiled even more at that.

Pride. He was completely proud.

Alicent approached Rhaenys, ''Let me see them.'' She said softly but firmly. Rhaenys hesitated a little, but let Alicent take her grandchild.

Rhaenyra was alarmed and Laenor placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to reassure her.

It's okay, Alicent would never dare do something with so many witnesses. Rhaenyra's shoulders relaxed a little but there was a tension present.

Alicent rocked the baby in her arms lovingly, smiling at them. They were beautiful, she thought. A pang of envy rose within the Queen. She wanted (Y/N) to be hers.

She blinked in surprise. That was it? But it was and Alicent knew it. Part of her knew that Rhaenyra wouldn't be a good mother to (Y/N) and she wanted to prevent future disappointments for them.

"They need to sleep." Rhaenyra said suddenly, standing up with her husband's help. Alicent looked at her skeptically and reluctantly handed (Y/N) over to Rhaenyra.

Rhaenys watched Alicent carefully and Corlys looked suspicious. The Queen was forced to retreat.

For now.

"I need to go see Aegon." Alicent stated to no one in particular, "But I will visit (Y/N) again with Viserys later."

Rhaenyra's only response was a slight nod, but she wasn't really paying attention.

Under the watchful eyes of the three Velaryon's present, Alicent left the room with hesitation and disgust.

As you grew, everything changed and it wasn't just your growth.

But family intrigues.

You had been the only legitimate child of the marriage of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon.

Everyone knew that Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey were bastards and sons of Harwin Strong. There was no denying it, not when you were Laenor's legitimate child, not when you looked exactly like him.

Not even Viserys had any arguments for that. And Alicent, Criston and Otto always made sure of reminding Rhaenyra about this.

Jacaerys' birth was a stab in the chest for Rhaenys and Corlys. And a triumph for Alicent.

You were only a year older than Jace, but you loved him deeply. It didn't matter that Jacaerys was different and this difference became even more visible after he grew up.

It didn't matter because you loved him. You loved Jace, you loved Luce, and you loved Joffrey. You loved all of your younger siblings and defended them fervently when their appearance was brought up. You constantly fought with Aegon and Aemond about it.

You got along well with Alicent and Viserys' children, your aunt and uncles. Mainly Helaena. You adored her, so sweet and so kind and she loved you fervently in return. It was very common for you to be together.

One day, you were in your room reading a book that Rhaenyra gave you and Aemond ran into your room. You dropped the book and got up in a hurry.

''What happened?'' Your voice was serious and Aemond blinked and pulled you into a hug, seeking comfort.

''They gave me a pig!''

You frowned, ''W-What?''

''Aegon, Jacaerys and Lucerys!'' Aemond held you tighter and every word that came out of his mouth was full of hatred. ''They said they were going to give me a dragon and they brought me a pig!''

Oh. You squeezed him back, trying to comfort your uncle.

''I'll talk to them.'' You stated and Aemond muttered a thank you under his breath, squeezing you as if his life depended on it.

When you scolded Aegon and your younger brothers, Aemond could be seen smiling creepily in the background.

You loved your entire family, your paternal and maternal grandparents, your parents, your uncles, your aunt, your brothers, all of them. And being a Velaryon and a Targaryen was amazing, but you felt trapped sometimes.

Trapped by your family.

You were often seen as the anchor of your family. What held them all together.

And you always agreed with that. Many of the fights that occurred you had to get involved in to separate both sides and as you grew up, you noticed it even more.

You realized that your family would never truly be reunited. And you found that out the hard way.

It was during the funeral of Laena Velaryon, your late aunt. You didn't spend much time with her but you felt sad. You stayed close to your grandparents and your father the whole time, trying to comfort them for the loss of their daughter and sister. They felt immensely grateful to have you there.

You have finally met your great-uncle, the infamous Daemon Targaryen. The Rogue Prince.

He was everything the stories said. You felt uncomfortable with his strange looks in your direction and clung even tighter to your father who noticed Daemon's looks.

Laenor looked at Daemon suspiciously and pulled you away. Neither you nor your father noticed Daemon's eyes darken.

You lay in your room, trying to fall asleep when you were called to Driftmark's main hall after an accident involving your uncles and brothers. It wasn't until you found out what happened to Aemond that you knew all was lost.

You gasped in horror when you saw Aemond's face. Mutilated and missing an eye.

You approached him, under the burning gazes of those present. Alicent was furious and Viserys did nothing.

Your heart skipped a beat when Alicent stole Viserys' dagger and stormed off to try and gouge out Lucerys's eye in revenge. Your mother got in front and she was cut off.

You watched in horror at the cut and the way the blood dripped onto the floor. Aemond hugged you tighter and said everything was fine for his mother. It had been a fair exchange, he had lost a eye but had gained a dragon.

You knew the eye story wouldn't end there and you had confirmation years later.

You were stroking your mother's hair while she was being stitched up by the maester. You agonized every time the needle penetrated her soft skin and did your best to try and ease her pain.

Rhaenyra appreciated your concern and kissed your cheek after scolding your brothers.

Laenor entered the room and you hugged him, ''My child... I'm glad everything is okay with you'' He whispered against your hair, squeezing you tightly.

''I'm fine, dad. Mom is the one who's hurt.'' You mumbled. Laenor hugged you for a few more minutes and let you go, he turned and looked at Rhaenyra.

''I'm sorry for what happened to you and our children.'' Laenor took a deep breath and took a chair next to her. You stayed silent watching your parents interact.

Rhaenyra shook her head, ''It's not your fault.''

''No, it's not but I can't help but feel guilty. I've been neglecting you and Jace and Luce and Joffrey. And I regret that.''

Rhaenyra reached out and touched his arm, ''It's not your fault.'' She repeated again, with more firmness in her voice.

''I hate that I'm not the husband you needed, the father our children need.'' He whispered, ''I hate the way the gods made me.''

Your heart sank and you went to your father's side, hugging him. He smiled weakly at your affection.

''I don't hate.'' You mumbled.

''Neither do I.'' Your mother stated, ''You are a good and honorable man. That's something rare.'' They smiled and you felt lighter on that tragic day.

''I'm going to change. I will become a better husband and father.'' Your father said and pulled you into his arms, you smiled and hugged him back. Rhaenyra got up from her chair and walked over to you. She wrapped her arms around you and hugged you too.

You stayed for a while hugging your parents, feeling grateful for the peace that dominated your heart for a few minutes.

Because you knew it wouldn't last. Not when the next day a tragedy involved your entire family.

Dragons roared and storms broke out in the tragic night.

#a song of ice and fire #house of the dragon #yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #asoiaf #yandere asoiaf #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere laenor velaryon #yan!mom rhaenyra targaryen #yan!dad laenor velaryon #yandere alicent hightower #yandere rhaenys targaryen #yandere corlys velaryon #yandere house targaryen #yandere house velaryon #yandere house hightower #hotd

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alijuan · 7 months ago

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Ascended Astarion is true unlike Spawn Astarion who pretends to be good for Tav

If i see that opinion again i will explode🫠

It's funny because Astarion will only approves if you persuade him not to perform the ritual.

A lot of people don't understand the concept of grey morality and it shows. Many people justify him but this type of AA fan thinks worse of him than he really is. He needs the ritual not because he's a power-hungry villain, but because he needs safety for himself and his lover. Depending on Tav/Durge's actions, he either stays with the feeling of fear (AA is still afraid deep inside, the game files confirm this) or he fights against it and becomes truly free of Cazador and fear (spawn ending). The dialogue with Durge about not being afraid is wonderful and shows difference between SA and AA.

Astarion: This little adventure of ours has taught me that we can't let our lives be ruled by fear. Or else we never really live. Astarion: I'm not afraid. Not of you, not of your darkness, and not of our future.

The point of the spawn ending is that Tav/Durge saw him as more than just an outward image of a power-hungry killer incapable of becoming a better person. But if you can't see beyond that image, he will think that he has no choice but to continue living in the world that Cazador has built for him. If you think that AA is his best ending because he is evil then you have failed to understand his whole personality.

I feel safe with you. Seen.

Despite of his love of killing (he is a vampire after all), he repeatedly showed compassion and guilt for luring people. Before the ritual, he literally convinced himself that he should kill spawn for power. Astarion rationalises this to protect his psyche, because he’s clearly not the type of guy who can sacrifice thousands of people to the devil and not feel anything about it.

Durge/Tav: This isn’t you, Astarion. Not really. Astarion: It should be.

I really like that the player technically makes the insight check and that there’s an advantage when they're romancing Astarion. Tav/Durge could see through the image Astarion was trying to create. They saw an elf whose fear prevented him from seeing all the possibilities.

Astarion: When I look at my future, anything and everything feels possible now.

Just as Astarion saw Durge not just as serial killer, but as someone who could defeat Urge and become a better person.

Durge: I am myself at last. You don't need to fear anything from me ever again. Astarion: I knew you had that sweat heart all along. I was alarmed by you sometimes, scandalised even, but somehow by your side, I still only ever saw you.

AA fans also often ignore the fact that the game has good and bad endings in the companion stories. And it's not about morality. All companion quests are literally about how the desired and obvious path leads to a bad ending. And Astarion is no exception. In a good ending, he gets the chance to heal and finally acceptes himself and his vampire nature, in a bad ending, he gives up and regresses as a person.

Spawn Astarion knows what he wants and says it. SA is ready for a relationship and sex. Ascended Astarion can’t answer the question of what he wants, so he acts as a vampire lord should. AA is literally back to the state of the first act and has started manipulating Tav/Durge through sex again (even repeating the same phrases). This is why he doesn’t really want sex (he approves if you choose the no sex option and he definitely dissociated during the sex scene) unlike Spawn Astarion who initiated it.

Spawn Astarion is the same Astarion who enjoys “murder and terror” and you can see that clearly in his “hero” ending (more like “antihero”). And this is the ending without romance, he chose it himself. And the whole idea of him pretending to be good for Tav is actually meaningless without romance.

Ascended Astarion is the same Astarion, but stuck in a black and white world of fear and domination.

SA scene ends with hope music (instrumental version of I want to live) AA scene ends with chains.

And there’s so much more. Larian specifically showed the difference between good and bad endings in the dialogues, scenes after ritual, recent updates and even the interview so people would definitely understand, but they didn't🙃 Some AA fans (especially on youtube and larian forum) are on a new level of delusion.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #Narrative comprehension is dead #durgestarion #astarion x durge #astarion x tav #spawn astarion #ascended astarion

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chaos-in-deepspace · 1 month ago

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LADS Sylus: Make It Worth It | NSFW

Oh gods, I finally finished editing this. I hate editing things. It's the worst. It's needed though. Hope y'all enjoy this pegging fic!

❧ Pairings: Sylus x Reader ❧ Warnings: Pegging, Teasing, Bottom Sylus, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Large Dildos, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Cum Eating, Spitting in Mouth, Almost Caught Sex, Semi-Public, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationships, Fake Cum, Fake Creampie, Slight Breeding Kink (If you squint, but it's mentioned once or twice in a joking fashion), Men Whining, Slight Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Fellatio, Mentions of Face Sitting, Dominant Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of "Slut" and "Whore" for describing Sylus ❧ Synopsis: You decided you wanted to top your beloved boyfriend, so you corner him in his office. Surprisingly...he's down for it. ❧ Word Count: 8.3k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Sylus

Make It Worth It

One thing you knew about Sylus was the fact that subtle actions went unnoticed…in a sense. He would notice them, sure, but he wouldn’t entertain them unless it was to tease you. He once said that closed mouths don’t get fed when you don’t want to tell him exactly what you want. It took a lot of time in your relationship to finally get to the point where you could be completely straightforward with the man. A lot of reassurance from him went a long way in getting you to be honest.

It led to the now. You wanted to try something, and there was really only one way to ask. So you made your way down the halls of the Onychinus base on a mission, a duffel bag held close to your body. Luke and Keiran had passed you by, attempting to ask you what you were planning, but you had been dismissive to them as you didn’t want your grand plans to be hindered by second-guessing yourself. You swung open the doors to his office and saw him sitting at his desk, his laptop up in one corner and several papers scattered about in the other. He was in more casual clothes today due to a lack of meetings, opting for his black sweater and gray jeans.

“Welcome in, kitten,” he didn’t even look up, instead waiting for you to approach him. With a couple of long strides, you found yourself closing his laptop to put it off to the side and then slamming the duffel bag down in front of him. He blinked a few times, looking between the bag and then back to you; his eyebrow rose in question, “And what have you brought with you today?”

It wasn’t like it was uncommon for this to happen, interrupting his work for one of your whims. Sylus was caught more off guard when you brought something with you this time.

“Remember how you always tell me if I want something, all I gotta do is ask?” you began, speaking a bit quicker than usual. He hummed, confirming your words, “And also, how you said I should be exploring more of my own personality now that there isn’t anything holding me back?” he nodded again.

“I do recall saying that, yes.” He settled on it as he waited patiently for your next move. Sylus was good at reading you, and he could tell right away that you were nervous and excited about whatever it was you had planned. He chuckled when you pushed his desk chair back just enough to toss one leg over his thigh. Both your legs were caging his own in his seating position, and you put your hands onto the armrests of the chair as you leaned down slightly to get into the man’s personal bubble.

Sylus looked fully entertained with the current position as you mulled through your head exactly how you wanted to state this. It had to be elegant. Had to be smart. There were only so many ways you could state the question, though. Perhaps if you just didn’t think and said the first thing on your mind it would work out better.

“I want to top you.” It wasn’t as elegant or smart as you’d hope, but Sylus liked it when you were straightforward and blunt. Your question didn’t seem to catch him off guard in the slightest as he leaned back in the chair to look you over, smirking.

“Did you really come all the way to my office so that you could ask me this?” his tone came out teasing as your antics clearly entertained him. If there was one thing Sylus could always count on, it was you making his day more interesting, “What? Couldn’t wait till later when we were going to bed? Or were you that desperate to…top me…that you had to interrupt my work?” oh now he was being the usual little shit you were so used to. He chuckled at the pout he saw on your lips as you tried shooting him a glare.

“Actually, I couldn’t wait. I wanted to fuck you right now, but you’re working, so I came all the way here.” Your words only made him chuckle more as he placed his hands on your waist, intent on dragging you properly into his lap. Maybe grind up into you so you could feel just how interested he was in your current…proposition. You almost locked your legs so he couldn’t drag you down, not unless he was really dedicated to the cause.

“Will you be able to handle it, sweetie?” he asked with a tilt of his head. As you expected, his attempt to pull you down didn’t work when he wasn’t trying, “While I am willing, I will say if you plan on having me be submissive for you, I’ll only go along if you make it worth my time.” Instead of tugging you down again, he opted to just squeeze your hips and make you squirm for a moment.

You grabbed his chin between your fingers and dragged him to look up at you. He still had that knowing smirk plastered on his face, the one that you just knew meant you were going to have to actually put in the effort if you wanted to dominate him, “Are you saying I’d be incapable of topping you, pretty boy?” your voice dropped a little bit as you looked down at him.

“I think you can do it, but I’m not sure how well you’ll do your first time around. I’m always here to let you try new things.” As long as you could actually make him submit to you was left unsaid but heavily implied.

“Honestly, I’m more worried about you,” you said, trailing off to look behind you at the duffel bag, “I got a few items to use today.” Sylus’ eyes didn’t go to look at the bag. Instead, he used the opportunity of your distraction to drag you onto his lap and elicit a gasp from you. Both your thighs were now on either side of his legs, and you widened your eyes in surprise before narrowing them. You hit his chest, about to say something, when you felt his hips roll into your own.

You fought back the groan, noticing that he was already hard, “So what did you grab?” he murmured, happy to have you on him. The weight of your body on his own was always nice; it was one of the reasons he enjoyed having you ride him. Grabbing at your hips to control the pace, sometimes using his evol so his hands could explore your body or even letting you fully take over while he sat back and enjoyed.

“Bring the bag over here, and I can show you.” Maybe if you had been standing, you would’ve grabbed it, but since he was deciding to play this game, he could do it now. He rolled his eyes, knowing what you were implying.

The number of times you had convinced him to use his evol to grab you something was, quite honestly, a bit entertaining. He still always went along with it, of course, having a hard time denying you really anything. Even the twins commented when they watched Sylus grab you something, saying that the man was whipped.

You could see the familiar red energy gathering and heard the shuffle of the bag as it came over and was placed on top of both of your laps. Your hand went to the zipper, slowly undoing it as you adjusted yourself on his lap, purposefully grinding on the man. He didn’t make a noise at your teasing, but you could feel how his cock twitched from underneath your ass now.

Your hands reached in, and you found yourself pulling out two very large toys. They were both red and unique in their design. The first one had a red and orange design, with a thick head that led to an even thicker base and heavy texture all over it. The second one was only slightly smaller, but the head was tapered, and it had thick bumps over the body. That one was colored a darker red with a black gradient at the base.

They were both marketed as demon dildos, found off one of your favorite toy sites. You had gotten them both in a medium as well, thinking maybe the large would be a bit much. They were already huge at their current size, the smaller of the two being seven inches with a girth you could barely wrap your hand around.

Sylus looked at the items in your hands, realizing when you said you wanted to fuck him, you really meant it. “You want to peg me?” he finally got out. Now this…this was a bit of a shock to him. He managed to play it off as more neutral, not letting you see just how thrown off he was.

He had expected a lot of things from you, but pegging wasn’t one of them. Not that he’d turn it down, oh no. In fact, he found himself rather intrigued by the entire thing. Hell, even his body reacted with a blooming heat in his stomach as he thought about what it would feel like to be filled up with his partner.

“You did tell me you’d be willing to try anything at least once.” You reminded him of a conversation you had months ago when discussing bedroom activities. You watched Sylus’ hand go over to the tubes connected to the toys, playing with the object as he spun it in his fingers.

“Kitten, what are these tubes for?” he asked, and you smirked. You took a syringe as well as a rather large bottle of lube that was white and, from what you had seen, very slick and sticky. When you tried it out to see the texture, it stuck to your fingers in a rather stringy fashion, and it looked just like cum.

“That, Sy, is so I can breed you,” you stated as a matter of fact, “The syringe will even warm up the lube just slightly above the normal body temperature so you can feel it…you’re welcome.” Honestly, you had been pretty damn proud of this one. It had been expensive, but it wasn’t like you were spending your own money. Sylus was always insistent that you use his card if you plan to splurge on anything. Sure, he probably hadn’t anticipated it would be used to buy giant demon dicks with cum tubes to peg him with, but that was how life worked out sometimes.

“You want to…breed me?” he was still managing to remain calm and collected over the entire ordeal, but even he didn’t know how to respond to this. Not that he needed to; his dick underneath you had twitched at your statement and was clearly interested in the prospect, “Darling, you know that’s impossible, right?”

“See, you say impossible; I say we should try it out and see. Maybe a few times. Like a couple of creampies every day can’t hurt, right?” you chuckled, and he closed his eyes and shook his head. Of course, you’d go with something like this; he could never put it past you to come up with insane ideas. Sylus had tried many things with you in bed, but letting you fill him up with fake cum was a new one. Not to mention that the syringe looked huge, and he was certain you didn’t plan on just filling it up a little bit.

“Of course, how careless of me to not even let you try,” he said as he went to take one of the toys from your hand. He grabbed the red and black one with the tapered head, “I assume I’m given a choice between these two?” he gave it an experimental squeeze.

“You would be correct!” honestly, you had expected him to go with the smaller option, but a small part of you really wanted him to go with the larger size so you could watch him squirm as he took the blunt head into him. Maybe next time, you’d be railing him with the big one.

“This one.” He said, squeezing the silicone toy again. The firmness wasn’t too soft and wasn’t too hard. It reminded you just a bit of a soft dick, honestly, only being slightly firmer, so it could actually go inside of someone. “Perhaps if you’re any good at this, we can try the other one another time. I’ll admit, I’ve never…” inserted something into his ass like this? Probably not a shocker.

You didn’t know how many partners Sylus had in the past or if you were the only one. Honestly, it was a question you never bothered to ask, judging by how you knew you were the only one in his life currently, which was all you cared about. The man was an enigma, but you were certain if he had been with others, he was always on top. He had an imposing height and a muscular build, not to mention the aura about him just screamed dominant most of the time.

There had been many times people were shocked when they found him obediently listening to you. He would do his own thing, sure, but when it came to you, he was listening and doing what he was told. In bed, it was the same thing; he could be dominant and flip you over to absolutely demolish you, sure, but other times, you’d see a more submissive side.

The entire reason you had this idea was due to last week when you decided to try and choke him. He had come instantly and had whined about it. It was probably the hottest thing he had ever done, and you wanted to make him completely bottom for you. The best part about the situation is he didn’t seem embarrassed by it; rather, he was aroused and encouraging you to continue riding him that night, needing more of you.

“Are you certain you didn’t want to try riding one of these toys instead?” his voice cut off your inner ramblings, and you looked up at him in confusion. The tip of his finger was playing with the head of the other dildo in your hand. You looked at the large item and shook your head.

“If I want a dick,” you said as you placed the toy back into the bag. Your hand then went down to begin working Sylus’ pants off, “I have a warm one right here. Plus, this one moves inside of me.” You commented with a chuckle, unzipping him so you could lay your hand over the bulge in his underwear. His dick was always warm and so responsive, not to mention he was huge. He was probably about the size of the dick you’d be fucking him with today.

“Noted,” Sylus said, taking in a shaky breath when he felt how your hand cupped him through his pants, playing with his cock. There was already a wet spot right where the tip was that you were playing with your finger. You tossed the bag onto the ground as you began fishing out his dick from his underwear to grab it properly and give it a few lazy strokes. “However,” his hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you away.

You didn’t even see him put the other toy onto the desk, most likely using his evol, so he had a free hand. He was now grabbing your chin as he dragged you closer so his lips were almost pressing into your own, “If you fail to meet my expectations, then,” the hand grabbing your wrist left, and he used his evol again to grab the other, larger toy, “I get to put this in you.”

That toy was definitely larger than his own dick, and the head itself away about the same size as the shaft. You looked between him and the large toy, “Um, there’s no way that’s going to fit inside of me.” Not without it burning and causing you to limp afterward. Shockingly, you didn’t feel like destroying yourself today.

“Yet you wanted to put it inside of me?” he asked with an amused huff.

“Listen, the booty hole is like…different from the coochie. It can fit more into it. You can handle it.” You said the last part of your sentence was in the same tone he always used when he was trying new things on you. Either that or edging you…or bringing you into a state of absolute overstimulation.

Sylus paused for a moment, “Are those really the words we’re going to be using tonight?” he asked, clearly not amused by your childish lingo.

“Cooter. Poop shoot.” You easily supplied, “I can make it worse.” You said cheekily.

“You’re making me get soft…I didn’t even think that was possible with you in my lap.” That got a laugh out of you as you shook your head.

“Fine, your ass is different from my pussy. That make you feel better?” you said, and he smirked before finally dragging you down into a kiss. You groaned against him, your tongue prodding at his mouth as he let you in. He didn’t bother fighting you in the kiss; instead, he let you explore him as you leaned closer, your hands grabbing onto his shirt. You could feel his cock against your stomach, and you shivered. You almost wanted to ride him before you fucked him, but you also didn’t want to tire yourself out just yet. Instead, you parted from his mouth and kissed the corner for a moment.

Now that all the discussion was out of the way, you were getting off his lap and standing up. You held out your hand for him to take, and he happily took it. It always amazed you with how large his hands were, watching as his fingers entwined with your own and practically engulfed you. You loved how sensual it could be when he held it while fucking you, and you shivered as you recalled the other night.

You tugged at him so he’d be standing, and the moment he was on his feet, you easily pivoted him, so he was spun around. You pushed him down onto the desk and watched as he unclasped his hand from your own so he could grip the edge. His ass was halfway on it as he looked down at you in question. “Oh, you wanted to do this today…in here?” he asked, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Why else would I have brought the stuff with me?” you said with a quirk of your brow, “Besides, you’re the one who tells me if I want something, I should just take it. And you’ve also put me on a kitchen counter before and fucked my brains out, so honestly, this is pretty normal for us.” You shrugged.

Besides, there was a thrill of doing things like this where someone could hear you, something that you had picked up long ago that Sylus seemed to like. You were certain that if someone were to actually see you two, he might be a bit mad and hide you from sight, but the thought of it always got him hard.

“I suppose it is.” He said with a shrug. It wasn’t like you guys ever had to worry about someone just barging in. Everyone knew to knock before coming into his office; even the twins wouldn’t dare just waltz in when they knew he was working. They always knocked before so they wouldn’t have to worry about getting yelled at. The only one in the entire base who could just stroll in here at any time was you.

“Well, I’m glad you’re finally starting to take action,” he said as he adjusted himself. “But is this really the best place?” he asked with a small huff. His hand slowly went down the grain of the wood on the desk, taking a quick glance at it then back at you, as if silently asking you if this is really what you were envisioning.

“Oh? Are you telling me it might be uncomfortable for you to be fucked on a random surface?” you said, your tone now mocking. He seemed to have gotten the hint as he shook his head.

“No, I was just thinking maybe you’d like a lower surface so it’ll be easier for you. If this is how you want me, I won’t complain.” The desk was a little high up, but you would be able to get the right angle. It wouldn’t be too hard to fuck him on the desk. Besides, you weren’t opposed to grabbing a step stool if push came go shove. As long as you got to your end goal, you were happy.

Once Sylus had stopped complaining, you began working him out of his pants, pushing them down and kicking them off to the side. Your hands wrapped around his thighs, squeezing them and feeling how the muscles flexed underneath your grasp. He looked good, as per usual, as your hands began to glide over his body. You pushed up his black shirt, hands going underneath to feel his chest. Sylus watched you with interest, allowing your touch to just roam his body and feel his heat.

Then you were back to grabbing his thighs; you walked closer and began pushing him down properly onto the desk, your hands going to scatter papers to be out of the way. Sylus let out a short gasp as he watched, his own body moving to work himself onto the desk, but the man was smirking. He gave you a knowing look as he worked on adjusting himself some, getting comfortable on the hard desk under him.

“You know, some of those papers have million-dollar deals on them.” Sylus pointed out as he watched some of the pieces of parchment fall gracefully onto the ground. You began moving up from the man’s hips until your hand was just barely hovering above his dick. You barely even glanced at the papers, not caring in the slightest as to what was on them. Besides, maybe you just saved a few people from getting screwed over by a bad deal by tossing their things off the desk.

“Crazy how that’s not a me problem.” Besides, the man had made several deals on a daily basis, you felt. So what if some important documents were scattered? It would still be on the floor, and you were certain Sylus was smart enough to figure it out. You had more important worries right now, like getting the man off and then listening to him whine underneath you. Those priorities came before some million dollar deal weapons deal.

With that thought in mind, your hand was now grasping his dick and giving it a few slow pumps. The pre cum was already collected onto the head, and a small amount had dribbled off the tip and down the shaft. Your hand wrapped around the girth as your thumb swiped some of the sticky fluid, “Sweetheart,” Sylus cooed, “As much as I enjoy your hand being here, I thought you wanted to-ah!” you squeezed the base of his cock while glaring up at him.

“We’re getting there, Sy, but I get to decide when you get fucked. Be a good boy for once.” You scoffed and looked around. The items from earlier were still at the edge of the desk, the few things you didn’t scatter due to the fact that you’d be needing them.

“Be a good boy?” Sylus echoed, “And why would I do that? If I recall correctly, you’re seldom good for me.” You grabbed the bottle of lube and popped open the cap. You then turned to shoot him a warning look as you grabbed the syringe from earlier and filled it up with the lube for later. You then poured some onto your hand and spread your fingers, watching the white substance cling to your hand in a web-like formation.

“I just match your energy, is all.” You said with a smirk, “Now lay down fully on your back for me.” You could see the cogs in his head turning as he decided if he was really going to be doing that. You rolled your eyes and, with a clean hand, pushed down on his chest hard until his back was meeting the wood of the desk, “And you call me a brat…” you mutter out. You swore the man called you a brat because he was projecting.

“You are a-.” He was cut off again as you pressed a finger against his entrance. He groaned and bit the inside of his cheek as he looked down, trying to get a view of what you were doing. Honestly, you were a little surprised with how easily your finger slipped inside of him, pressing into the warmth that was his ass.

Your eyes were wide as you slowly took it out and then pressed back in. Sylus wasn’t making too much noise; hell, he wasn’t even squirming. He seemed more transfixed on the fact that you were inside of him rather than the actual feeling of it. He was so warm on the inside, for for a split second, you were almost mad you didn’t have an actual dick. You think if you did, you could die from how good he would feel inside. You were certain they had some evol sex toys that would let you feel it, so perhaps some day you’d invest his money into some.

You were even able to slip a second finger into him with relative ease, and in the back of your head, you were wondering if he was lying about never doing this. Then again, Sylus never lied to you. If he didn’t want to tell you something, he’d either change the topic or tease you, but he never lied to your face. “Sy, have you ever…?” you asked as you curled your fingers up to try and find his prostate; you knew the general area that it should be in.

Sylus let out an airy laugh, “No, kitten; I just know how to relax.” He stated, and then it was followed by a loud groan as your fingers apparently found what they were looking for. You smirked as you began curling your fingers into that spot every time you pushed your digits back into him. It felt different, like a small bulge in him, the bundle of nerves being like an instant pleasure button that you were happy to have found.

“You sure that’s it, and it’s not because you’re a little slut for me, Sy?” he gasped at being called that, his eyes narrowing, but you could see the subtle turn of his lips as he tried not to smirk.

“You sure are something,” Sylus murmured, but the way his cock had twitched made you hide your own laugh. His dick was now drooling onto his stomach as you grasped it with your free hand and began pumping his cock in time with how you fingered him. He was squirming and groaning as he rolled his hips up into your hand, wanting more as he was now starting to feel good. The fingers alone were okay, the prostate was amazing, but now that you were also pumping his cock with your hand?

“D-did you -mhn- plan on having me cum like this, or on your cock, sweetie?” his voice wasn’t wrecked yet, but he was at the point where he was moaning in the middle of his sentences. It was different from usual, normally he managed to keep his voice fairly steady while speaking in the middle of fucking you. This more submissive side of him was going to drive you absolutely wild.

“You close already? I can feel your cock pulsing in my hand, and you’re already making a mess of yourself. Quicker than I thought, you must like having your ass played with.” You teased, your fingers scissoring into him as you attempted to get him stretched out for your strap. “You’re so wet, Sy, what a whore.”

Sylus let out another groan, feeling like he was already on the edge, “D-didn’t answer my question, sweetie.” He said, holding himself back now. The names you were throwing at him was driving him absolutely wild right now. Your pace got faster, your hand easily pumping his dick with the slick he had produced to help you along with the glide. He let out another gasp as he squeezed his eyes shut for a second.

“I’ve seen your stamina, babes; you can go for a few rounds.” You commented, and after he was essentially told it was fine, his cum began coating your hand as you pumped him, some landing on his abs and dribbling down to his hips. He let out a few grunts, rocking his hips into your hand. You could feel the way his ass tightened around your fingers, practically trying to suck them in further as you worked him through it. There was an involuntary shudder that went down your spine at the sensation as you bit on your lower lip to hide your own groan.

He was always so pretty when he came, how his mouth hung open in a moan, his eyelashes fluttering, and his eyes almost rolled to the back of his head. He was arching off the desk as he came, and after a few moments, he began relaxing again, the aftershock wracking through him. He was panting subtly, and as you took your hand off his dick and placed it over his chest, you could feel how his heart was jackhammering as if trying to escape from his own chest. His pulse was always high, but in moments like this it was almost concerning.

“Such a good boy…” you murmured as you brought your hand up to your face. You licked up his release, groaning at the salty, bitter taste of it. You could see his dick twitching as he watched you clean up his cum, and you stuck your tongue out to show him the milky fluid in your mouth before you closed and swallowed it down. He always loved it when you swallowed his release, and while you weren’t sure as to why, you were more than happy to indulge him if it had him moaning just from the sight.

Your hands went back down to his thighs, squeezing them as you admired his form. He had dorito-shaped proportions, something you had once teased him about, but damn if you didn’t love it. His chest was honestly perfect for laying on with how wide it was, and you wished you could see him in a corset to accentuate his waist.

You were tempted to take off his shirt so you could stare at his tits for a while as you fucked him, but instead, you opted to just push it all the way up to his chin. Your fingers went along his nipples, ghosting over them until you decided to quickly pinch at the perky buds.

Sylus groaned from underneath you and glared, “If you plan on fucking me, I’d hurry up before I change my mind and make a mess out of you instead.” Sylus said after noticing how you were currently content with just teasing him.

“So impatient,” you cooed and began working your own pants off now, “Didn’t realize how needy you’d be; guess you couldn’t wait for my cock, huh pretty bird?” you shucked off your pants and kicked them aside, revealing a nice harness underneath. The black leather looked good against you as it squeezed at your hips and thighs, letting some of the skin there bulge out. The sides even had two little red gems on top of the buckles.

It was clearly to Sylus’ liking as he placed his hand over your hip, tracing over the straps of the harness. His finger grazed over the red gem on the side before giving the leather strap a small tug, testing to see how tight it would be on you. After he was satisfied that it fit correctly, his hand went to your thigh and squeezed it gently before letting go of you.

You took the dildo from the side of the desk and undid the harness enough to slip it behind. Thankfully, you had practiced this part, grabbing the silicone toy and squeezing it through the metal o-ring until just the base was pressed against your pubic mound. You adjusted the straps again, making sure they were nice and tight around you and not able to move when you began fucking him.

“Kitten, I think if anyone is desperate, it’s you.” He said as you grabbed the lube and began slathering it all over the dildo. Your hand jerking it off and as you stood, looming over him, Sylus’ mind started going blank. He didn’t think it was possible to find you even sexier than he normally saw you, but seeing you with a strap and happily jerking it was doing things to him. His dick practically jumped when your hands grabbed at his thighs, the fake cock falling on top of his own as you leaned over. The hand you had used to jerk the fake dick off while coating it with lube now smeared onto his skin, causing a small shiver to escape him.

“Kitten? Me?” you said, pushing his legs up so they’d be bent at the knee, “You’re the one who’s going to be purring.” You joked as you adjusted yourself between his parted legs. Sylus groaned, then looked off to the side. He could see the tube that jutted out from the side of the dildo base, the syringe right next to you on the desk, and completely filled with the sticky, white cum lube that apparently was now warmed.

“You’re serious about using that?” he finally got out, noticing how your fingers were splaying over his legs. You leaned over to one, kissing his calf and looking down at him. Sylus honestly wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He was both intrigued by it, but also just hesitant if he’d like the feeling. Hell, would he even be able to feel it? You had really set out to make him the most submissive he’s ever been.

“Of course, I wanna watch my cum dribble out of your cute hole, Sy,” he groaned at your open honesty. He wasn’t used to being spoken to like this, and honestly, he didn’t think you had it in you, but at this rate, he was almost tempted to bottom for you more often just to hear those filthy words leaving your mouth. Still, he wasn’t about to just back down from the challenge as he watched you take one hand to grasp your fake cock and line it against his entrance.

“You have ten minutes to convince me this is a good idea,” Sylus stated as you were now pushing the very tip right past the tight ring of muscle.

“Or what?” you asked, watching as the head was now inside of him. You heard him gasp at the intrusion, the item larger than your fingers, and stretching him out, “You were the one who came earlier from me fingering you. I’m pretty sure you like this. Besides, with an ass like yours, it’s practically begging to be played with.”

Sylus bit back another groan as he watched you adjust his legs now that you were somewhat nestled inside of him. You were placing his legs around your hips right now, letting him wrap them around you, “If you can’t make me cum just from this in ten minutes, you’re taking it out of me so I can pin you to the desk.” He said, and you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, so you want me to milk your prostate is what you’re saying?” you were pushing more of the demon cock into him, watching as he gasped from the feeling of it filling him up, “Baby boy, I fully plan on taking away your ability to walk straight.” You said as you finally bottomed out. You looked up at his face, noticing how his jaw was currently clenched and his eyes were closed. He was taking deep breaths as he willed himself to get used to the feeling of you inside of him.

Your hands smoothed over his hips as you felt his legs dragging you closer, his ankles locking behind you. One of his hands was now above his head, grasping the edge of the desk, and his other was reaching up to tug on the edge of your shirt as if attempting to drag you down.

You gave a small, experimental roll of your hips into him, and he groaned, arching his back up as he watched you through lidded eyes. You made the motion again, and this time, his mouth hung open as he panted slightly, his exposed chest heaving with labored breathing, “You seem to be enjoying this already.” You comment, your hold on his hips tightened as you properly began drawing out the dildo.

“I a-adore your voice, ah, but please shut up and f-ah!” the moan was punched out of him as you slammed the cock back inside of him. You didn’t bother waiting for him to try and speak again as you began properly thrusting into him, feeling how his grasp on your shirt got tighter and his eyebrows pinched together as he focused on the feeling of you inside of him.

The man had never felt full like this, and honestly, he liked the feeling. He briefly wondered if this is what you felt like, every time he fucked you on his own length. That thought had him gasping, as well as how you began angling your hips to thrust upwards into the area you knew his prostate was. The motioned earned a muffled keen from him as he chewed on his body lip and made a solid attempt to not show you how much he was enjoying this.

“Shit, Sy,” you groaned out, already feeling a little breathless, “You’re so fucking wet. Look at how your dick is drooling all over you. Such a messy boy.” You groaned, noticing how his pre cum was now mixing with his earlier release on his abs. His dick bounced every time you thrust back into his tight hole, and you could see how his tits were jiggling along with your movements. He looked so good like this, and you were reminded how you always stared at his chest when he worked out. You had to do this more often just to watch them bounce like this.

Sylus couldn’t even get out a response as you found a consistent angle to graze his prostate as your movements got harsher. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he liked it when you were rougher with him, letting out pretty moans the moment your thrusts got to the point bordering on painful. His grip at the end of his desk tightened, and you could hear the slightest splintering of wood underneath him as he literally began breaking that part of the desk. As much as you’d love to comment on it, he was dragging your body down and pressing his mouth against yours now.

He was moaning into the kiss, a high pitch keen leaving him as your pace didn’t falter. It was sloppy, his tongue desperately seeking out your mouth as you drank in all of his little noises. You could tell he was close, his legs managing to drag you in even closer as the wet smacking noises from your kiss and the fake cock pounding into his ass echoed in the room. Your hand went to find the syringe, fully planning on filling him up.

Right as you were about to press the object, there was a sudden knock on the door. Whoever it was clearly either being dense or somehow deaf if they couldn’t figure out what the noises inside were. Your pace paused for a moment, and Sylus let out a whine before his eyes widened as you both turned to the door, where someone’s knuckles hit as they knocked again.

“Boss?” It sounded like Keiran, “Luke and I,” Keiran began speaking, but the moment you knew it was him, you began thrusting back into Sylus. This time, your boyfriend took his hand off your shirt and slapped it over his mouth, trying to muffle the lewd moans escaping him. You weren’t even bothering to listen to what Keiran had to say, instead working on making it known what you were doing to his boss. Sylus’ attempt to muffle his noises didn’t help, not with how close he already was.

“Sy, Keiran needs you. Why don’t you let him know you’re busy? Don’t want him trying to barge in if you don’t say something.” You chuckled, your hand splaying over his pubic area. You weren’t about to play with his cock just yet, instead waiting for the right moment. Sylus shot a glare at you but slowly removed his hand from his mouth, his small whimpers filling the room as you fucked his needy hole. For a second you weren’t sure he could even speak, not with how when he opened his mouth a loud groan escaped it.

“I-I’m mhm fuck b-busy!” he managed to cry out, which was followed by an absolutely pornographic moan. It was silent on the other side of the door, and then you suddenly heard footsteps leading away from the door. Keiran processed exactly what he was hearing. You chuckled as your hands left the man’s hips, deciding the way his legs locked around you would give you enough leverage in your thrusting.

You grabbed his cock in one hand, thrusting it at the same pace as your hips. He keened from the touch, and you felt how his cock was throbbing in your grasp, already about to cum once again. Your other hand found the syringe next to you, and you finally pressed down on it.

Sylus cried out, feeling the warmth filling him up and dribbling out of his hole. Your eyes focused down at his entrance, where you watched the white lube dribble onto the desk. Then he tried speaking, his voice coming out cracked as he attempted to warn you, but it was too late. His cock shot out cum, harder than you had ever seen it. The cum shot managed to reach his chest and even a bit on his chin. He was whining as you worked him through it, the white liquids mixing with his body and getting on your hand.

His legs kept you close as he locked you into place around his body, his hips trying to thrust as he squirmed underneath you. You had never seen Sylus so wrecked and needy during your entire time together, and it was a treat. Seeing how red his face was, how his chest heaved with every shaky breath. His tongue was almost falling out of his mouth as he arched into you, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.

Then he found himself slowly coming down from his high, his body relaxing back onto the desk and becoming completely lax. You grabbed his hips, enjoying how he was finally relaxed and content, his unfocused, lidded eyes looking at you. For once, his eyebrows didn’t have a furrow; it reminded you of when he was asleep for a moment as he tried to come back down to earth. Sylus couldn’t recall if he had ever cum that hard in his life; the only thing on his mind was how good that all felt and how he had to do it again one day. Hell, maybe even do it again later today if he could ever get his brain back into his head.

“Well, did I make it worth your time?” You asked after it looked like he’d be able to hear you again. He groaned, squirming a little bit underneath you, as you wiped your cum coated hand on his hip to clean it off. He tried shooting you a small glare at the gesture, but he realized it was only making you smirk.

“I-I guess we could do that again…” Sylus finally got out and began relaxing his legs. He unlocked his ankles and let them fall to the side, his thighs squishing up against the desk as he relaxed his grip on the now splintered edge of the desk. He’d have to buy a new desk at some point, or maybe he’d leave it there as a reminder of what transpired today. He didn’t feel like making decisions right now, though.

Your hands went to the shirt that was still bunched up around his chest as you worked it off him, Sylus only helping slightly as you removed the piece of clothing and tossed it to the side. It had some cum on it now, so you doubted he’d want to wear it out of here. You knew the man kept spare clothes in his office after one particular incident where you both ruined his clothes after you decided to rip them off him in a desperate attempt to get to him.

You leaned forward, pressing small kisses along his neck and watching him shuffle underneath you, a small sigh escaping him, “We can do this again, cutie?” you asked as you finally began taking out the strap once you were standing back up. You had to hold back a groan when you watched the cum lube dribble out of his ass now that there was nothing to plug it up anymore. Your fingers went down, scooping some up and fingering it back into him. Sylus gasped at the intrusion, looking down at your hands as he realized just how sensitive he was at the moment, but he still managed to nod and answer your question.

“Glad you’re down to do this again, though, it would be a shame if we never got to use the other dildo on you.” You murmured, noticing how much of his cum was now on his body. You honestly hadn’t expected it to shoot up that far, and you wondered if he even could tell there was some cum on his chin and neck.

“A true shame…” his tone was almost mocking but soon turned to a moan when he felt your mouth on his thighs. He looked down, noticing how you leaned over to lick at some of the sweat collected on his inner thighs.

“W-what are you…” he muttered when he felt how you were licking at some of the cum that you had smeared onto him. You watched as his abs tightened, and his cock seemed to twitch with renewed interest in the sensation. Your mouth trailed over until your tongue came out to lick a thick strip up his shaft, and he groaned when you collected the cum that had gotten there. You then moved to his abs, and he let out a whimper.

“W-wait, don’t,” he murmured as he realized just how hard he was getting again. Not that he minded completely; it wasn’t uncommon for you guys to go a few rounds together. He was just so sensitive right now that he couldn’t mask the whine that escaped him.

“Don’t what?” you asked, loving his reactions, “Do this?” you took the head of his dick and popped it into your mouth, giving it a harsh suck. He keened at the feeling as you let it fall out of your mouth. Your tongue began exploring again, licking at his pubic mound and then up to his chest, collecting his release as you went. Your mouth sucked again when you got to his throat, leaving a small mark right on his Adam’s apple.

You heard a thunk as his head hit the back of the desk, and he let out a wanton moan, loving the warm and wet sensation as you peppered a few more kisses here and there. Finally, you were moving to lick the release on his chin before you grabbed at it, forcing his mouth open and spitting into it. He groaned when he could taste the bitterness of his cum, but he still swallowed what you had given him.

“We should get you cleaned up properly.” You muttered and were about to stand back up when you felt his hand on the back of your neck. He dragged you back down for a kiss, and you groaned into it, feeling how his tongue played with your own as he kissed you. He was still panting, and you adored how even his kiss was a bit unfocused and tired. When you parted, you wiped off a bit of saliva from his glossy, kiss-swollen lips.

“Just hand me my pants,” he murmured, “You said I had stamina, and you haven’t gotten to cum yet…although we should probably move this to the bedroom.” He said, realizing if you guys continued in here, then his desk might actually break from your enthusiasm.

“Fine…but I’m still in charge,” you said with a smirk, “And your face would probably make an amazing seat today.” You were already getting back up and working on the strap out of your harness. You tossed it to the chair, deciding you guys could clean up tomorrow. You had far more pressing matters to attend to, mainly dealing with how slick you were. Even your inner thighs were coated in it at this point.

“Whatever you want, sweetie. You’re in charge for the rest of the evening.”

#loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace #Sylus Love and Deepspace #Lnds #Lnds Sylus #lnds x reader #x reader #reader insert #Sylus x reader #l&ds #l&ds Sylus #l&ds Sylus x reader #lads x reader #lads Sylus #lads Sylus x reader

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milla984 · 1 year ago

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With Neighbors Like These

Summary: Jack goes away for the weekend and Aaron and Reader can finally have some alone time (inspired by this concept)

Pairing: post season 12 Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: kissing, mutual masturbation, moderate dirty talk, penetrative sex, protected sex, established relationship, unspecified age gap, Hotch dealing with parenting issues, Jack is mentioned but not present

Word Count: 2k

The house was unusually quiet as you walked in, leaving your shoes at the entrance to proceed barefoot towards the small office Aaron had arranged for himself with a few retouches to the spare room in the back.

Despite having a key in case of emergencies and whatnot, like a very good neighbor, it was a common decision you’d only use it on specific occasions and mostly when Jack wasn’t around. A single soccer cleat lay abandoned in a corner in the living room; were it to happen on a regular day you knew the mere sight of it would have sparked a fierce argument, but this morning was different.

The evening before a very concerned father had driven his fourteen-year-old son to the arranged meeting point, camping gear in tow, and Jack was now enjoying a two nights excursion somewhere in the local woods. You had a feeling that, conversely, Aaron wasn’t getting a kick out of the child-free weekend - confirmed by his rapid typing on the keyboard when you knocked on the wooden frame of the French door to catch his attention.

He looked at you and cracked a smile, still too focused on what he was doing. “It won’t take too long. I promise.”

You dropped your purse under his chair and hugged him from behind, the scent of his aftershave filling your nose with pure delight.

“Feeling lonely, already?”

“Why?!” he enquired. “I didn’t have to shout five times to turn off that damn videogame, last night… and nobody guzzled down half a gallon of milk directly from the bottle, at breakfast!”

“You’re also worried, I can tell,” you added and he shrugged, defeated, then went back to focusing on the screen.

He’d been working part-time as an FBI consultant for a law firm for about a year and you had never seen him putting his job before his kid: he was an active member of the PTA and even volunteered to chaperone whenever he could (something that many moms and other dads found incredibly hot, without a doubt). If he was working on a Saturday he was a hundred percent desperate for a distraction.

Your palms brushed over his shoulders and a delicate touch soon turned into a proper massage, kneading his muscles through the polo shirt he was wearing.

“Relax. You’re too tense,” you mumbled. He had only shared a few unpleasant details about his life as a member of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in D.C. before he and Jack moved into the neighborhood; nevertheless, it didn’t take a genius to figure out his former employment as an FBI agent had taken a huge toll on both of them.

“I’m not sure I should have signed that consent form,” he confessed.

“His entire class is with him and his teachers all have cell phones, nothing’s going to happen. Save for a few mosquito bites,” you replied. “And don’t get me wrong... but aren’t you being just a bit overprotective?!”

“Jack told me the same thing when I said I wanted to think about it. Except, he didn’t phrase it so nicely,” Aaron grinned and shook his head while he rose to his feet. “Sorry, enough with the family issues,” he apologized, “it’s a lovely Saturday morning. Have you got any interesting plans?”

“I have. And they don’t involve homework,” you declared, and as you pushed his laptop to the opposite side of the desk he locked an arm around your waist, his expression reverting to a serious one.

“... so you’re a bad influence.”

The intimidating attitude he could pull off with a single stare never failed to make your legs turn into jelly.

You lowered your voice to a purr. “You don’t even kn—”

His soft lips pressed onto yours stopped you mid-sentence. The fact he had a teenage son registered in your mind only as a foggy thought and the power he’d had on you since the instant you saw him jogging around the block was almost inexplicable.

“You’re right, no more homework. How about I take you out for lunch?” he proposed and the warmth of his breath on your skin ignited a fire you weren’t at all convinced you could control. Or would.

You hugged him tight, your bodies finally making contact. “How about we take care of something else, first?”

Aaron’s attitude towards romantic relationships exuded manners and consideration, the portrait of a gentleman from a different era, so the response to your suggestion came as a surprise: he’d always shown a preference for the intimacy of his bedroom, even though his palms stroking over your breasts to make your nipples grow stiff and visible through the fabric was the perfect sign he had no intention of wasting any time to move the action upstairs.

Your tongues lustfully met in a second kiss, prompting you to let out an excited sigh as you blindly undid and removed his belt before letting it fall on the floor with a loud clunk. You reached for his zipper and he sighed in return but gasped a second later when you gave him a light push that forced him to sit down again.

“Show me how you do it when we’re not together.”

Aaron’s eyes widened - confusion and stupor at the beginning, then the sheer thrill of the idea lit up his gaze. And made him hard entirely.

He sank into the cushion behind his back to finish unzipping his pants and pulling them down his hips so that his swollen erection was only contained by a thin layer of underwear.

“You’re just going to watch?” he asked, locking eyes with you. You could have sworn that look alone increased the temperature in the room by a couple of degrees. “Doesn’t seem fair.”

You reached under the flowy dress to roll your panties along your thighs, letting them crumple around your ankles; you sat on the desk and lifted the skirt up to your waist, your feet resting on Aaron’s parted knees.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

He swallowed nervously but didn’t miss a movement of your fingers starting to draw circles around your most sensitive spot, guided by the aching tension in your belly; your mouth watered at the sight of his cock whipping free and he noticed, so he took his time to wrap his right hand around it.

You knew how to work his length, moving up and down in slow and long strokes as foreplay, nevertheless witnessing such a handsome man masturbating for you proved to be one of the most lascivious experiences of your life.

“I always think about you when I touch myself…” you confessed, and he held on to your ankle with his free hand while you rubbed your clit.

“Are you trying to make me lose control?”

You nodded in confirmation and he growled.

He was now coating his shaft and palm with the leaking precum, using only his index and middle finger to collect some of the slickness and spread it over the bulging head, the exposed glans glistening in the process. That was when he usually begged you to move faster, since his delicate skin was lubricated enough and increased friction meant pleasure - not pain.

“I’m really wet for you,” you teased him, your own desire pooling at your core, but his reaction threw you off balance.

“Stop, please… stop,” he whimpered, “this is not…”

His ragged breath made it difficult for him to articulate his words. “I need you.”

You gestured at the purse that was still under his chair and he handed it to you; sharing the house with a teenager meant Aaron had grown accustomed to some of his clean t-shirts randomly disappearing from his drawers and wardrobe, so you both knew nothing out of the ordinary could be hidden among his personal stuff.

He stared at you, entranced, as you retrieved the small box you’d carried with you and tore one of the foil packages open.

“A little closer, maybe…?” you joked, and when he stood up you bit your lower lip in anticipation. He kissed you lightly on your forehead as you unrolled the latex down his hardness, then you pinched his chin and smiled at him.

“Better?!”

He whined again. “Not exactly.”

You grabbed him by the nape of his neck, speaking softly to his ear. “Make me come. I can’t wait anymore.”

The uninhibited request seemed to have flipped a switch in him: the sound of a pencil holder spilling its content made you laugh as Aaron enthusiastically raised your legs in the air and held them to his chest, so he could start rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your folds.

It was torture but he was damn good at it.

When he managed to get himself covered in your arousal he slipped the bulbous head past your entrance. “It’s so big…” you muttered.

Truth be told he wasn’t that well-endowed and you had nothing against it, since you’d never been keen on painful sex, still you welcomed him with a loud moan once he buried himself inside of you. Even a gentleman from another era didn’t mind a bit of flattering and appreciation of his manhood.

He wasn’t as vocal, though, but his deep groans reverberated in his throat in a manifestation of primal, untamed passion; he looked so solemn it drove you insane, his brows furrowed and tiny droplets of sweat trapped between his short hair, almost as if he was directing all of his energies into screwing your brains out.

When his thrusts grew slower but more intense you wriggled your legs free and locked them around his waist: with a last, fierce grunt he twitched several times and you closed your eyes to enjoy the moment, which was always the biggest turn-on for you.

With your eyes still closed you welcomed the pressure on your lips, a not-so-subtle invitation to take his index and middle finger in your mouth; you sucked on them alternately, happy to oblige, tasting traces of the salty precum. You clawed at his forearm when he brought the wet digits to your clit, rubbing and drawing circles just like you’d shown him before.

“Aaron… I’m…” you mewled, grabbing a fistful of his hair as you - indeed - came with his throbbing cock still inside you, lungs pleading for air and inner muscles clenching around him.

He collapsed on top of you, the additional weight making you realize how harsh the desk’s smooth surface was on your back, yet you cupped his face and stroked his flustered cheeks with your thumbs.

“I missed you so much,” you breathed out as soon as you were able to.

He pulled out and started to fix his clothes, and before he got rid of the condom he planted the sweetest kiss on your lips. “I’m sorry about the other weekend. Jack wasn’t supposed to play, last minute change of plans—”

“Don’t be sorry, I know you love going to his games,” you said, propping up on one elbow to straighten yourself as he stood in front of you. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to disappoint your biggest fans, would you?”

He was still heaving a little and looked at you with a pensive pout. “... what?!”

“I mean, you’ve seriously never noticed…?” you locked your hands behind his neck as you tried to come up with a good imitation of the cooing voice of the soccer moms who you knew swarmed the sidelines every time he was present.

“Aaron, can you help us move the coolers? Aaron, we need to rearrange those chairs! Aaron, come here and have some cake! We made it for you ‘cause you’re such a good dad and it’s soooooo hot!”

He laughed, the vibrations in his ribcage making your breasts jiggle, then he gave you his best smile to date. “You’re jealous?!”

You shrugged, holding him closer. “No. To be honest I don’t even blame them, you are a good dad. Which is very hot, by the way.”

“Thank you,” he laughed again as he wrapped you in his arms to kiss you one more time, forcing you to close your eyes and get lost in his tender embrace. You muffled a surprised gasp when he playfully nipped at your earlobe with another heart-stopping smile.

“But just to be clear…” he added, his voice dropping to a whisper, “it’s usually cookies, not cake!”

NB: I don't really have an Aaron Hotchner fic taglist 'cause I usually write about Spencer Reid but if you wish to be tagged in future Hotch-centric works (SFW or not, who knows?) you can either send me an ask or leave a comment below.

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