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solelifauna · 4 months ago

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With Bared Teeth & Prayers (Yandere Batfam X Neglected Reader) (Dark!!! Werewolf AU) (PT. 2)

Hi guys, I’m alive. I’ve just been sick and then found out that my dog’s cancer spread and the surgery costs $3,000 which is insane. Anyways, I’ve been working irl so I completely forgot about this account. Sorry pookies🤕🙏.

If anyone wants to know I’m still taking commissions, and if my price doesn’t work for you I’m sure I can lower it!! Honestly, I’ll write for whatever price I’m lowkey desperate.😭🙏

The next morning, you wake up in panic, shit, you slept in. You rush out the manor forgoing breakfast, almost eating shit on the sidewalk in your rush. You hop onto your bike, pedaling as if death itself was chasing you, huffing and puffing. Thankfully you make it to school on time, if only just on time.

You fall into your seat just as the bell rings, letting the top half of your body crumple over the desk.

“Looks like somebody had a rough morning.” The familiar voice of one of your best friends.

“Fuck off Quinn.” You huff out tiredly.

“Fine, then I guess this extra black coffee I got at Gloria’s is going to waste then.” She said teasingly.

How is it that she always has impeccable intuition about these things?

You groaned sitting up, giving Quinn a tired look.

“Yikes, I was gonna make another smartass joke but you look like you’re about to keel over.” She said worriedly, handing over the extra coffee.

“Ha ha, yeah I feel like I'm about to keel over. Thanks for the coffee by the way.” You said dryly.

“Don’t sweat it girl, but–uh, what the hell happened.”

“Too much dude, too much. It's so much bullshit I don't even know where to start.”

“Im guessing its about–”

“Ding, ding, ding, you got it.”

“Shit…how bad? They’re not gonna… you know…” Quinn stutters off.

“Kill me? Eat me?”

She nodded.

You massage your forehead, a headache forming between your eyebrows. “I'll be so for real right now, I don't even know.”

“Damn, I don't even know what to say to that.” Quinn grimaces.

“It’d be weird if you did.” You joked giving her a sardonic smile.“Well if they’re gonna kill me, I hope they do it before finals.”

“You’ve got issues (Y/n).”

“I’m aware.”

Just then the chatter in the class started to pipe down as your history teacher, Mr. Lechliter, made his way into the room. However, something wasn’t right; his usually neat hair was in disarray and you could smell that he was profusely sweating. He was nervous, which was completely out of character. Sure Mr. Lechliter was awkward at times but he was normally confident and loud around the class, something was going on.

“Good morning, class,” Mr. Lechliter began, but his voice was shaky, not at all the usual booming tone he used to command the room. “I-uh, hope you’re all ready to jump into… um, well, history.” He swallowed hard, glancing around as if searching for something—or someone—outside the door.

You look at Quinn with a raised eyebrow. What the hell is happening right now?

“We, um, actually have two guests who’ll be auditing a couple of classes today so we all want you guys on your best behavior. For our sakes and yours.” He said fidgeting with his paperweight globe, however, it was what he whispered under his breath that had you worried. What the fuck did he mean by that?!

“These guest speakers are one of the school's top sponsors so I truly cannot express the need we have for you all to behave and be on task, understand?” Mr. Lechliter spoke gravely.

The class let out a scattered “Yes” whilst others nodded. Now it was the class's turn to start getting nervous, the energy in the room now becoming quite grim. Seeing the class’s cooperation, Mr. Lechliter let out a shaky smile and nodded back at the class in approval. You sipped your coffee nervously in tandem.

“Good. Now, without further adieu, please welcome the esteemed Bruce Wayne and his son, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne.”

And in walked your worst nightmare as you choked on your coffee. A hesitant applause began as a couple of heads turned your way, including the scrutinizing eyes of Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake.

“Jesus Christ (Y/n), are you good?” Quinn whispered, patting your back.

“Does it look like I'm good, Quinn?” You whisper-yell back.

“Sorry, dumb question.”

“I legitimately can't do this right now.” You groan out quietly.

Tim’s sharp, calculating gaze landed on you, and for a split second, his lips twitched upward in what looked disturbingly close to satisfaction. Bruce, however, kept his gaze steady, stoic, making his way to the front of the class like he owned every square inch of the room—and maybe, in a way, he did.

Bruce stepped forward, greeting Mr. Lechliter with a firm handshake before addressing the class. “Good morning,” he said, his voice carrying a smooth authority. “It’s always a pleasure to see the next generation of Gotham’s finest minds, and today, we’re here to discuss some unique opportunities with Wayne Enterprises—partnerships, scholarships, and mentorship programs that may be of interest to you in your future studies.”

Meanwhile, Tim’s gaze remained fixed on you, a silent warning lingering behind his polite smile. You swallowed hard, avoiding eye contact, hoping that blending in might somehow make you invisible. But Tim had no intention of letting you off the hook. He leaned slightly closer to Bruce, murmuring something that made Bruce’s eyes flicker in your direction, his expression unreadable.

Quinn leaned over, her voice barely a whisper. “(Y/n), what the hell is going on? They keep looking at you.”

“Trust me, I wish I knew,” you muttered back, managing to take a sip of coffee without choking this time. “They’re just here to make my life a living nightmare, apparently.”

As Bruce and Tim began their presentation, outlining all the “wonderful opportunities” that a connection to Wayne Enterprises could bring, you couldn’t help but feel trapped. Every line, every subtle glance, seemed like a reminder that escape from their influence was impossible. They were inescapable, even here, in the one place you thought you could breathe.

When they finally wrapped up their presentation, Bruce offered to answer questions, his gaze settling on you for the briefest moment, as if daring you to speak up. You just nervously looked away, its fine, they’ve said their piece and will be leaving soon.

But of course life doesn't ever go the way that you want.

The relief that had started to settle in evaporated as Bruce and Tim made no move to leave. Instead, they took seats at the back of the classroom, settling in with that same poised, assessing presence that dominated every room they entered. Bruce folded his hands in his lap, his gaze steady and inscrutable, while Tim casually crossed his arms, his eyes tracking every student’s reaction, but always coming back to you.

You swallowed hard, glancing at Quinn, who was now just as unsettled as you were. “Are they… staying?” she whispered, her brows knitting together in worry.

“Looks like it,” you muttered, barely moving your lips.

Mr. Lechliter, visibly tense under the weight of their scrutiny, resumed his lesson with all the grace of a man on the edge of a breakdown. Every time he stumbled over his words or glanced nervously at Bruce, the room felt as if it held its breath.

“This, um, particular era in history…” Mr. Lechliter began, stammering slightly as he struggled to keep his usual confident tone. “It’s a time when alliances shifted often, and there was…constant jockeying for power…”

Bruce and Tim watched, expressions neutral, but you knew better than to believe their act. They weren’t here for any genuine interest in educational standards; they were here as a reminder, a warning that the Wayne influence extended beyond the manor walls.

You focused on your notebook, pen tapping anxiously against the paper as you tried to tune them out and take frantic notes. But it was impossible to ignore the cold prickle at the back of your neck. Every glance felt like a needle, each second stretching longer than the last.

Mr. Lechliter’s lecture painstakingly continued on for another thirty minutes before class started coming to an end.

The bell finally rang as you shot up out of your seat and practically sprinted out the door. You head to your locker, feeling the many starters of students and teachers bore into you. Another thing was that everyone kinda knew that the Wayne’s didn't like you, it was very obvious. Which meant the media had a field day, letting the entirety of Gotham know how much the famous pack hated you. So now your business was also aired out to the entire world to know. Wonderful, am I right?

You shove your unneeded books into your (tbh, very cutely) decorated locker, while grabbing the science textbook you needed for your next class, AP Biology. This class was the absolute bane of your existence. Not only was the content hard, the teacher was also absolutely nuts. You walk over to your Bio class, clutching your books like a lifeline. “Please, dont be here too.” You pray to yourself. Thankfully, this class was normal, well, as normal as it could get. The other two classes you have before lunch ended the same way, Wayneless.

As your fourth class comes to an end your stomach starts to growl. You’d be embarrassed, but everyone else in your class was in a similar starved state. When the lunch bell goes off, you’re excitedly grabbing your things and making your way down. Fucking finally it was lunchtime. You made your way to the quickly growing lunchline

Your friends were already sitting at your usual table as you made your way over and slammed your lunch tray on the table.

“Im gonna kill myself.”

“I can't even say anything about that.” One of your other friends Daniel says.

You groaned holding your head in your hands, your headache becoming more prevalent as you turn to look at him.

“Man all I did was ask to leave, and now this shit? I can't even right now.”

“You finally asked to leave, huh? I'm guessing it didn't go well.” Daniel asks.

“Nope, but when does anything ever go right in my life.”

Just as you finish talking, the noisy cafeteria falls abruptly silent. The usual clatter of trays and chatter of students fades, replaced by an almost eerie quiet. You and your friends exchange confused glances before turning to see what—or who—could possibly have silenced a room full of teenagers. But in the pit of your stomach, you already have an idea.

Sure enough, walking through the entrance are Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake-Wayne, looking completely out of place in their immaculate suits and composed expressions. Their powerful, calculating gazes sweep across the crowd, searching for someone, before both of their eyes zero in on you and your table. Instinctively, you tense up, your shoulders hunching as if to make yourself smaller, and you feel the flush of embarrassment heat your cheeks under their scrutiny.

Their focused stares make you flinch, and you quickly look away, facing your friends once more. “See what I mean?” you mutter under your breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s like the universe is out to get me.”

Daniel raises an eyebrow, glancing between you and the Waynes, a flicker of worry passing over his face. "What are they doing here? This isn’t normal, right?”

“No, it’s definitely not,” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual even as your heart races. “They’re here to make a point.”

You further slump into the table, arms cradling your head as the cafeteria slowly starts to go back to its normal noise level. Both Tim and Bruce take a seat at a table opposite to where you’re sitting, which gives them a perfect view of your table. Great.

“Guys talk to me. Anything–talk about anything please.” You beg quietly.

Quinn leans in, glancing nervously at the Waynes across the cafeteria. “Uh, did you hear about Chief Keef performing soon? Apparently, he’ll be in Gotham.”

Daniel nods, catching on to your plea for distraction. “Yeah, yeah, I heard he's gonna bring another artist on stage. Mauve Travis or something if we’re lucky?.”

You smile weakly, grateful for the distraction, even if your heart’s still pounding. You try to focus on what they’re saying, but you can feel Tim’s gaze on you like a laser, scrutinizing, watching every movement. You pretend not to notice, grabbing a fry from your tray and nodding along to whatever Daniel and Quinn are saying, forcing yourself to join in with a half-hearted laugh here and there.

Quinn suddenly brings up a story from her last weekend, trying her best to lighten the mood. “Okay, get this—I tried to impress this guy by pretending to know how to skate, but instead, I ended up flat on my face in front of, like, everyone. Mortifying, but he did buy me a smoothie as a consolation prize.”

You chuckle, letting the story pull you out of your anxious thoughts. “I mean, sounds like it kind of worked. You got a free smoothie, right?”

Quinn laughs, rolling her eyes. “Only because he felt bad, but hey, I’ll take pity smoothies.”

The laughter at your table grows, the lighthearted moment almost making you forget the ominous presence of Bruce and Tim nearby. But just as you’re starting to relax, you catch a glimpse of Tim’s amused smirk from the corner of your eye. His eyes don’t leave you, as if he knows exactly how unsettling his presence is and he’s reveling in it.

“I think he liked you,” Daniel teases Quinn, keeping the conversation going to help ease your nerves.

“Liked my bruised ego, maybe,” she snorts. “Anyway, what about you, (Y/n)? Got any secret admirers?”

You shake your head, grateful they’re keeping the focus off your current predicament. “Nope, unless you count the cadaver frog I accidentally dropped on my lab partner. He, uh-didn’t look at me the same after that.”

Your friends burst out laughing, and for a brief, blessed moment, you almost feel normal again. But when you glance back, Bruce’s eyes are still on you, cool and unyielding.

“Here’s to hoping they’re gone after lunch,” Daniel mutters, catching your uneasy glance.

“What good has hoping ever done me?” You sigh, picking at your food.

The tension in the cafeteria never fully fades. Despite the attempts from Quinn and Daniel to keep the conversation going, the presence of Bruce and Tim just continues to overwhelm you. Every so often, your eyes flit toward them, only to find them still seated, still watching, and their expressions betraying nothing of their true intent. It feels like they’re waiting for you to make a move, to react in some way that would justify their unsettling attention.

Lunch drags on in this uncomfortable limbo until, at last, the bell rings, signaling the end of the break. Your friends gather their things, offering small words of encouragement or supportive smiles, though they too look wary of the Waynes’ lingering presence.

“I’ll see you both in Chem. Hopefully Mr. Domzalski isn't still in a bad mood from what happened yesterday.” You say.

“You mean from when you and Daniel set fire to one of his textbooks?” Quinn questions sardonically.

You and Daniel offer her a sheepish, guilty smile.

“Hey–it was an accident!” he exclaims, feigning offense.

“Yeah, what he said! We followed all the instructions to a T!” You defend as well.

“Sure, whatever you both say. I'm just surprised he didn't automatically fail you two.” Quinn says fondly.

“It’s ‘cause we’re somehow his favorites? Don't ask me how or why though.” You respond.

As you and Daniel chuckle, the lightheartedness helps lift some of the weight that had been hanging over your head. The relief is short-lived, though, as you feel a prickle on the back of your neck—a feeling that’s become all too familiar lately.

You glance back to see Bruce and Tim still watching, and for a moment, something in Bruce’s gaze changes. You can’t quite read it, but it feels sharper, like he’s calculating, considering something he hasn’t said. You swallow, gripping your bag tighter as your friends move to head toward class, unaware of the silent tension hanging around you like a cloud.

You head to your APA Algebra II class alone, without the usual buffer of Daniel or Quinn’s lighthearted banter to ease the tension. The classroom is quiet, a different atmosphere from the lively lunch period, and you’re able to slip into your seat undisturbed, hoping that the math problems ahead will give you a welcome distraction.

As the class moves on, you find yourself lost in equations, the numbers and formulas acting as a temporary refuge from everything else. You keep your head down, concentrating on the work, grateful for the momentary peace that academics bring.

When the bell rings, signaling the end of Math, you gather your things and head to APA Chemistry, where you’d finally reunite with Daniel and Quinn. When you arrive in APA Chemistry, the atmosphere is surprisingly relaxed. Mr. Domzalski hasn’t arrived yet, so everyone’s just hanging out, chatting about weekend plans, or joking around. You plop down next to Daniel, who’s already doodling on his notebook, and give Quinn a tired smile. It’s nice to have a few minutes to unwind before the usual controlled chaos of Mr. Domzalski’s class kicks in.

Then, the door swings open, and you freeze as Mr. Domzalski steps in with Tim Drake following close behind. Your stomach twists, and you have to swallow down a groan. Thankfully, Bruce is nowhere to be seen. Small blessings, you suppose; better not to question it too much. You look at your friends, trying to convey your annoyance with a single tired look as Mr. Domzalski beams with a sort of overdone excitement that sets you on edge.

“Everyone, I’d like you to welcome a special guest,” he says, practically brimming with enthusiasm. “Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, is here to observe our class today.”

You sink lower in your chair, stifling a grumble. Great, just great. This whole thing was growing stale fast. You try to ignore the interested murmurs spreading through the class as everyone stares at Tim, who stands there with that same polite, professional smile he’s been flashing all day. You avoid eye contact, focusing instead on the edge of your desk as Mr. Domzalski continues.

“Now,” Mr. Domzalski goes on, shifting his focus to the lab materials, “before we dive into today’s lesson, let’s review what went wrong in yesterday’s lab.”

He shoots a pointed look in your direction, his smile still in place, but there’s a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s not exactly thrilled. “For those who might need a reminder,” he continues, not-so-subtly side-eyeing you and Daniel, “improper handling of materials led to one of my textbooks, which I cherish dearly, being set on fire.”

The class erupts into quiet snickers, and Daniel coughs into his hand, trying to disguise his laughter. You roll your eyes, but a smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth. Even Tim’s eyes change a bit, as if interested.

Mr. Domzalski clears his throat, regaining the class’s attention. “Let’s aim for a little more caution today, shall we?”

The lab for the day was going to be more complex than usual. Mr. Domzalski, with a edge of nervousness in his tone, began rattling off the new, more complicated instructions. His gaze flicked to you and Daniel more than once, lingering just long enough to make his message clear: Please don’t mess up.

You slouched slightly in your seat, already feeling the weight of the unspoken pressure. It wasn’t lost on you how much was riding on this lab going smoothly—not just for your grade, but for Mr. Domzalski himself. With Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises and a member of one of Gotham’s most powerful packs, observing, any mishap could very well put your teacher’s job on the line.

Next to you, Daniel caught your eye, his lips twitching into a wry smirk. He leaned in, whispering, “Feel like we’re walking on eggshells today, huh?”

“More like a minefield,” you muttered back, eyeing the lab equipment warily. The setup looked far more intricate than usual—beakers and flasks stacked alongside pipettes, Bunsen burners, and an array of unfamiliar chemicals. It was a recipe for disaster, and you had no intention of being the one to set it off.

Tim, seated at the back of the room, watched the proceedings with his usual cool detachment. His presence was like a weight pressing down on the room, amplifying every minor sound and movement. You could practically feel his gaze on you, even when you weren’t looking his way.

“Alright, everyone,” Mr. Domzalski said, clapping his hands to gather the class’s attention. “Remember to follow the instructions precisely as they’re written. This is a delicate experiment, and precision is key. Any deviation could—well, let’s just say we don’t want any surprises today.”

The pointed glance he sent your way at the word “surprises” made you cringe internally. You shot Daniel a look. He seemed to get the message, giving you a small nod before turning his focus to the materials in front of him.

With a deep breath, you adjusted your goggles and got to work, determined not to give anyone—especially Tim—a reason to criticize.

The lab was rough from the very start. No matter how tightly you adjusted your goggles, they kept fogging up, obscuring your vision at the worst possible moments. You constantly had to pause to wipe them off, and each time, you felt Tim's Gaze flicker towards you. Daniel, meanwhile, was no better. He almost tipped over a vial of some unpronounceable chemical twice, and each time, you barely managed to steady it before disaster struck.

“Bro you have to lock in.” you said under your breath.

“I'm trying–fuck. My hands are too shaky.” Daniel whispered back, nervous as he tried held out his hands for you to see. He carefully set the vial down, only for his elbow to nudge another piece of equipment. You caught it just in time, your heart leaping into your throat.

The instructions seemed to come at lightning speed, Mr. Domzalski rattling off steps faster than you could write them down. Each new instruction layered on top of the last until your head was spinning with measurements, temperatures, and reaction times. You were doing your best to keep up—you think you were doing it right—but the constant noise and movement around you made it feel like everything was closing in.

You glanced at the flask on your workstation, bubbling faintly as it was supposed to, and double-checked the temperature. It seemed fine. Probably fine. Hopefully fine. But the nagging thought that you might’ve missed a step wouldn’t go away.

Behind you, Tim’s silent observation was like a shadow, adding another layer of stress to the already chaotic atmosphere. Every time you caught sight of him out of the corner of your eye, you swore his expression was unreadable, yet somehow judgmental.

“I think this is right,” you muttered, glancing at the next step in the instructions and adjusting your setup.

“‘Think’ isn’t reassuring, (Y/n),” Daniel replied, he was nervous. “Don’t blow us up, okay?”

“Not funny,” you snapped, though your lips twitched in a half-smile despite the stress. “Just keep stirring before we mess up the timing.”

The rest of the lab dragged on in a haze of nervous energy and frantic adjustments. Your hands trembled slightly as you measured out the final chemical, careful not to let even a drop spill. When you finally completed the experiment, the mixture in the beaker turned the correct pale blue color, and you let out a shaky breath of relief.

“See?” Daniel said, flashing you a grin. “We nailed it.”

You gave him a tired look. “Barely.”

As Mr. Domzalski approached to check your work, you held your breath, praying there wasn’t some detail you’d overlooked. When he gave a curt nod of approval, you finally relaxed, though your nerves still felt frayed. Even then, you could feel Tim’s eyes on you, as if silently appraising every moment of your struggle.

The lab was over, but the stress lingered like a heavy weight on your shoulders. You packed up your materials with shaky hands, grateful to escape the pressure of both the experiment and the unrelenting scrutiny.

As the class wrapped up, Mr. Domzalski passed by your station, his sharp eyes flicking over the completed experiment. The pale blue liquid in the beaker must have been just right because, instead of his usual critical remarks, he gave a subtle nod and a quiet, “Good work.” The words weren’t overly enthusiastic, but coming from him—and especially with Tim Drake watching—it was as close to praise as you could get.

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders, and you let out a long sigh of relief. You and Daniel exchanged a look, his triumphant grin mirrored by the faintest smile you allowed yourself. You’d passed. Somehow, despite the foggy goggles, Daniel’s near-disasters, and the relentless pressure, you’d made it through the lab unscathed.

As you finished cleaning up, Mr. Domzalski gave you a brief, silent glance of thanks. It wasn’t much, but you knew what it meant: he was grateful you hadn’t turned today’s experiment into another headline-worthy incident. You nodded subtly back, grateful that the ordeal was over.

With the last of your equipment put away, you grabbed your bag and escaped the lab as quickly as possible, the weight of Tim’s lingering gaze finally lifting as you stepped into the hallway. Quinn was waiting by the door, chatting with Daniel, who was still buzzing with post-lab adrenaline.

“Well, looks like you didn’t burn down the school,” Quinn teased, grinning as she fell into step with you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, rolling your eyes but smiling despite yourself. “We’re still alive, so I guess that’s a win.”

“Hey give us more credit.” Daniel chimed in, earning a laugh from both you and Quinn.

As the three of you headed for the stairs, you said goodbye to Daniel, who was heading to a different class. “See you later, guys.” he said, waving as he turned down another hallway.

You and Quinn made your way toward the gym for your seventh period, the final class of the day. The familiar chatter and clang of lockers greeted you as you stepped into the changing area. Gym wasn’t exactly your favorite class, but after the stress of the lab, it was almost a relief to have something physical to focus on instead of the constant mental strain.

“Think they’ll leave you alone for the day?” Quinn asked as you pulled on your gym shoes.

“I hope so,” you replied, your voice weary. “I can’t handle any more of this. It’s like they can’t even wait to-to…you know.”

Quinn grimaces. “Yeah, I know.” But she smiles back at you, as if tying to make you perk up. “Well, at least we’re doing dodgeball today, you should blow off some steam.”

You huff, amused. “Mm, maybe nailing Farah in the head with a dodgeball would do me some good.”

“Straight on bitch, that girl needs to be humbled.” Quinn says.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “At this point, I’ll take any excuse to hit something.”

The two of you stepped into the gym, the sound of sneakers squeaking on polished floors and the buzz of students warming up filling the air. It wasn’t the easiest day, but at least the end was finally in sight.

The day finally winds down as you head to the locker rooms to change. The smell of sweat and disinfectant fills the air as you and the other students shuffle to your lockers, exchanging the occasional half-hearted quip about how much of a drill sergeant Coach Walker was today. You change quickly, eager to escape the lingering humidity of the gym, and sling your bag over your shoulder just as the dismissal bell rings.

Joining the tide of students heading toward the front exit, you fall into step with Quinn, chatting idly about homework and plans for the weekend. The sprawling line of cars in the pick-up area is already forming, parents eager to whisk their kids away from the chaos of the school day.

Daniel spots you both as he weaves through the crowd toward his mom’s car, parked conveniently near the front of the line. “Guess that’s my ride,” he calls, swatting your shoulder playfully. “Try not to miss me too much tomorrow, I've got a doc's appointment.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, yeah, you wish asshole.”

��Later!” he shouts, hopping into the passenger seat of his mom’s car as it pulls away. You and Quinn wave after him before continuing toward the pick-up zone.

“Alfred here today?” Quinn asks, glancing around at the cars idling nearby.

“Probably not,” you reply with a shrug. “Haven’t heard from him, so it’s probably just me and the bike today.”

Quinn nods, her attention already shifting to a car pulling up in the distance. “Looks like my dad’s almost here.”

You glance toward the pickup area and spot the familiar vehicle inching closer. “Cool. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yep. Don’t get mugged on the way home,” she jokes, smirking as she adjusts her backpack.

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,” you reply with a laugh. With a quick goodbye, you head toward the bike rack to unlock your trusty two-wheeler.

The quietness of the parking lot is a stark contrast to the noisy chaos of the day. You crouch down, fiddling with the combination lock on your bike, when a hulking shadow falls over you. The sudden shift in light is enough to make your instincts bristle, but you stay focused on the lock, rolling your eyes at the interruption.

“Bro, if you’re lookin’ to mug me,” you say without looking up, your tone flat and unamused, “you should know I’m skint broke. Try some other bitch.”

The air around you seems to thicken with tension, and you feel the unmistakable weight of someone’s gaze boring into you. It’s enough to make you pause mid-turn on the lock, your breath catching as a low, familiar voice responds.

“I sure hope you’re not talking to me?” Comes your father, Bruce’s, deep voice.

Your head snaps up, and your breath catches in your throat as you realize it’s not some wannabe punk standing over you.

You pale instantly, the color draining from your face as you meet his icy blue eyes. His expression is unreadable, but the weight of his gaze is suffocating. The sheer presence of him—imposing, cold, and unnervingly silent—makes your stomach churn with dread. Your heart pounds in your chest as you scramble for words, your brain tripping over itself in panic.

“Oh—uh, Mr. Wayne—I didn’t—I mean, I thought…” you stammer, trying to cobble together an explanation and an apology all at once. Your hands fumble with the lock on your bike, suddenly feeling clumsy under his scrutiny. “I—um—sorry! I thought—uh—someone else—”

He raises an eyebrow, the tiniest shift in his expression, but it’s enough to make you flinch. You straighten up, clutching your bike for dear life, feeling small and utterly exposed under his towering figure.

“I see,” he says finally, his voice calm but laced with that undercurrent of authority that makes it clear he’s not just seeing. He’s assessing.

“I didn’t realize it was you,” you blurt, trying to salvage what’s left of your dignity. “I thought it was, uh, someone else. Someone trying to—um—mug me?” The excuse sounds weak even to your own ears, and you wince inwardly at how ridiculous it must sound.

Bruce’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Do you make a habit of mouthing off to strangers you assume are threats?” he asks, his tone deceptively mild.

“N-no, sir,” you stammer, shaking your head quickly. “I just—I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s been a long day, and I wasn’t thinking—”

He holds up a hand, cutting off your rambling. “Enough,” he says, “I’m here to pick you up. Alfred’s occupied.”

Your mouth opens, then closes, as you try to process his words. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that Bruce might be the one picking you up today. Of course, the thought of him going out of his way to do so hadn’t even crossed your mind, it wasn’t like he ever went out of his way for you before.

“Oh,” you manage after an awkward pause. “Right. Thanks.”

You still have your conversation from the previous day in mind.

“Come on,” he says, turning without another word. “We’re leaving.”

You hastily shove your bike into the back of his sleek black car, your movements hurried and uncoordinated under the pressure of his presence. Sliding into the back seat, you notice Tim sitting in the front passenger seat, looking at you through the rear mirror. You avert your gaze, clasping your hands tightly in your lap, trying not to fidget as the engine purrs to life. The air inside the car is thick with silence, broken only by the occasional click of the turn signal as Bruce maneuvers through traffic.

You steal a glance at him, his expression as stoic and unreadable as ever. Despite the tension knotting your stomach, you force yourself to speak. “I—uh, thanks for picking me up,” you mumble, staring out the window.

Bruce doesn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the road. When he finally speaks, his tone is even but firm. “We’ll talk when we get home.”

Your throat tightens when you see Tim's glee filled smile, as if a cat had just caught a canary. You nod mutely, knowing there’s no point in arguing. Whatever he has to say, it’s not going to be pleasant.

[Hope you guys liked the chapter!! I'm sorry for the delay and the ghosting, more fics will be updated trust!! Also thank you to all the people who were checking on me, I really appreciate it!!]

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muqingslover · 9 days ago

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[ Sooooo, happy easter my pookies! 🐰 So sorry about being dead for a bit I was hospitalized LMFAO!? I'll be going through requests soon! Dw guys, I see you and I hear you!!

In any case, what better way to kick back and relax than to write about the LADS boys jorking it ]

For personal enjoyment only I believe Sylus has a rut cycle. I mean, c'mon who hasn't thought about this at least once? Bc I sure have and I could make a whole post about thi— *gunshots*

Now, if I'm honest, he doesn't feel the NEED to masturbate like, ever. Nor does he really enjoy it.

His libido (and attraction in general) is directly connected to you so, if you're not actively riling him up or hanging around, he's just chilling.

Except during his cycles when his hand is forced (literally) and he'd rather blow his load than blow his own brains out.

Sylus is a growler! Though the low, almost rumbling sounds that escape his throat are not stemmed from desire, but from genuine frustration.

Why so angry, you may ask? That is because he knows it would be so much more enjoyable if you were there with him and it feels meaningless to do it by himself.

" He is rutting his sore, dripping cock against a pillow on the bed, bath robe sloppily slipping down his shoulders as he lets out another low, breathy groan. His hand grips the headboard of the bed tightly, nails digging into the wood hard enough to leave claw marks behind. His jaw is tight and sweat trickles down his forehead, each thrust into the soft cotton doing very little to soothe the hot, bubbling frustration in his gut.

'Help me, please.' He asks in his thoughts again. Will you hear his prayers this time? "

Xavier however doesn't need you physically present to get worked up.

Not particularly ashamed about it either. You're welcome to watch him anytime if you want.

He enjoys masturbating a normal amount but it's done veery sporadically. Usually he has to be in the right mood and have the right circumstances presented to him.

It happens when he's feeling lonely and needy for your presence next to him. You have been gone for longer than originally intended and now he is like a dying bunny starving for attention.

During sex Xavier is usually a quiet groaner or more of a "soft breaths" type of guy, but when he's alone? WHINY AS HELL.

" 'Mhn-mn...' He agreed softly, though his mind didn't register a single word that came out of your mouth besides the fact your voice sounded so close to his ear. He swears this hadn't been his intention when he came over to nap on your bed, but that raspy, tired edge to your tone began to make him feel tingly and before he knew he had his face buried into your fuzzy blanket while his free hand stroke his poor, messy cock. His other hand is busy covering his own lips to muffle his whiny moans, only letting go to answer when you ask if he had fallen asleep.

'Please keep talking..'

It's needless to say he enjoys the post-orgasm sleep.

I see him as the type that feels guilty about his sexual desires.

Zayne knows it's a chemical bodily reaction, but he just feels so....shameful. Especially since the reason for said "reaction" in his pants is you.

He does it quickly and quietly somewhere no one will see or interrupt him such as in the bathroom or his (locked) bedroom.

He's so quiet. I wish I was joking. Besides his heavy breathing there are no other real sounds from Zayne.

The only exception is right when he cums because then a strained, gasped moan escapes him without fail.

" 'Damnit...' He cursed under his breath. His glasses slip to the very tip of his nose as he pants, shirt trapped between his lips to muffle himself as an extra precaution and his hands work fast up and down his length. He can feel himself boarding so close to the edge and he knows just what he could do to achieve that bliss, but his moral compass holds him back from letting his imagination further any more into his fantasies. "

The post-nut clarity hits him like a damn truck exactly ten seconds later and he goes on a cleaning spree like there's no tomorrow.

This guy canonically went into heat. I rest my case.

Fine fine, since you insist let's push that aside and talk about just him feeling perky.

Rafayel is the type to masturbate after you do something that turned him on without meaning to.

Originally, the intention was to take a loooong, cool bath to calm himself down but in my twisted little mind being in the water makes him 10X hornier.

His voice is lower and quieter when he's excited. A moaner through and through, and occasionally will let out a curse or two.

" His knees fall further apart, spreading himself on the large bathtub as he comfortably leans against the edge. His eyebrows are furrowed in a way that makes him look almost angry, one of his fangs digging into his own lip as the sensitive scales on his skin react to the small ripples in the water around him, sending mind numbing tugs directly to his boner.

'Fuck...mn..' He murmured to himself, his thumb pressing against the pink, swollen tip and causing his head to tilt back in pleasure. "

A wise person (me) once said: Life is hard, but Caleb is always harder.

Pookies how many times have we been over this? He has his hand on his stiff ladies and gentlemen ! He's not a pilot for no reason ! ! And he's a FREAK about it ! ! !

His self-restraint is GOD given but his horny meter is also through the charts. Those pent up needs have to be released one way or another.

During teen years Caleb would use your clothes, his imagination and whatever else he could get his sticky little claws on to make his fantasies a bit more palpable.

Now that he's older though he barely has any time for himself and just kinda forgets about such things.

Or well, that was the case until you walked through the gates.

" The door to his office was locked, but if anyone was to pay a bit more attention they'd be able to hear to quiet grunts coming from the other side. The dog tag between his teeth did nothing to muffle the pathetic sounds leaving his throat, his sweaty forehead softly thudding against the metal when he leaned forward, one hand clenching the doorknob while the other moved quickly on his aching cock. 'Please, please please—' He begged between raspy whimpers, making a mess on the floor in front of him less than a minute after.

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sapphicbb · 4 months ago

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RIGHT HERE — paige bueckers

≋ pairing → p. bueckers x danceteammember!reader

≋ song → right here by justin bieber ft. drake

≋ warnings → fluff, angst, another situationship… sorry yall i can’t get enough!, background lore: exes turned friends turned situationship, mentions of sex (not smut), use of y/n, not edited sorry!!

≋ word count → 3.5k

≋ notes → if anyone is reading this i hope you enjoyoyy! oh also heads up all my stories are gonna be black and/or latina coded reader unless stated otherwise!! ngl this was supposed to be longer but I cut off the whole ending section sorry not my best work at allll … anywho love my wife pookie bear paige sm

your head on paige’s chest, her warm protective hold envoloped you as she watched you sleep. you looked so peaceful, which paige loved, because when you first came over to her dorm that evening you had looked the most stressed she had seen you in the past few months.

she was happy that she was still one of the few people you went to when you needed to decompress and vent about your day, as you were hers. she subconsciously drew light circles into your side as her eyes slowly blinked, fighting the craving for sleep that was overcoming her senses.

not long after her quiet snores were heard along with your light breathes. but of course this didn't last for long. almost fifteen minutes later, a repeating series of knocks were heard on the door. paige groaned and squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the knocking.

“i know you hear me knocking.” kk’s voice was heard from the other side, causing your eyes to flutter open. your attempts to remove yourself from paige’s hold were unsuccessful as she pulled you in closer—if that was even possible.

“if we ignore her long enough she’ll go away.” paige whispered with her eyes still shut. you lightly laughed at her words. “paige that's mean, i’m gonna go say hi.” you tried to unlatch her arms from around your waist but she wouldn't budge. “no, stay here with me and go back to sleep.”

she pressed your head back against her chest, urging you to go back to sleep which made you laugh. “as much as i would love to keep sleeping on your boobs, i haven't seen kk since the last game.” paige sucked her teeth at your words and slightly opened her eyes to look down at your giddy smile.

“hey kk!” you loudly called out to the girl on the other side of the door. “oh shit, y/n’s here? hey y/n, girl!” she drew out, the smile on her face was evident in her voice. “wait a second, why y'all not answering the door? better not be up to no freaky deaky shit… y'all decent?” paige began to laugh, causing you to finally break from her hold and softly hit her shoulder.

“yeah, wait a minute.” you removed the covers from both of you and got off of the bed, but before you could fully begin moving towards the door, paige pulled you by the waist band of her pajama pants that you were wearing and turned you back around.

before you could say anything, she sat up and fixed your tank top that had ridden down. you thanked her before and proceeding to the door. “ah hell nah, y'all taking too lo-” you cut off the girl standing in front of the door when you opened it. “we were just taking a nap.” you explained while moving to hug the girl.

“well, i’m sorry for waking y'all up.” she stated, taking a minute to fake think before laughing. “i lied, i’m not even a little sorry.” you waved her off and moved back to paige’s bed, sitting down and watching the girl who welcomed herself in.

paige sat against the headboard, her gaze also on kk. “why'd you even come knocking?” the blonde questioned, hands folded against her torso. “i was thinking about going on a target run but didn't want to go alone.” she explained with a shrug, doing the chill guy stance.

you laughed and patted paige’s knee. “you should go with her.” she furrowed her brows, looking you up and down. “you’re not coming?” you shook your head and laid back.

“i’ve been meaning to chit chat with my cutie pie azzi.” you excused, stretching before turning your head to the blonde girl who was side eyeing you. “i’ll be waiting in the living room.” kk called out in a sing-song voice while leaving the room.

paige sighed and threw her legs over the side of the bed. “thank you for letting me vent to you.” you thanked her as you watched her get up from the bed and walk to her closet. “you know you don't gotta thank me for that. plus, my offer still stands.” you laughed at her remark and sat up.

it was almost immediately after dance practice ended that you texted paige and asked to come over. you had been crying and your face was all puffy, but you didn't care at that point. she's seen you look worse.

when you showed up, she instantly took you into a hug and brought you to her room where you the words just flowed out your mouth. today's practice was extra stressful and you felt that the dance captain, emily, was specifically picking on you all practice.

there was a section of a new dance the coach had just started teaching and before emily even fully learned it herself, she started picking at the little mistakes you made. that irritated you, but you let it be.

she kept on making sly indirect comments towards you, but you let it be. it wasn't until after practice when you were grabbing your duffle bag from the corner of the practice room when you heard her talk to the coach, trying to convince her that you needed to be kicked off the team.

that was when you felt your eyes glossing over. you knew you were a damn good dancer, maybe even one of the best on the team, but you also knew the power she had over the coach. her word was stronger than yours.

what also confused you was the fact that she hadn't acted like that towards you until about two weeks ago. paige offered to have her and the girls go jump the girl but you instantly declined. she then offered to just confront her for you, but you turned her down because you wanted to fight your own battles.

“thank you p, but it's still a no.” you replied, watching her skim through her closet to find a hoodie. “i’m just saying at the next game if i see her moving weirdly, i’m gonna say something. i know how you are and you're too nice to tell her all that she needs to hear.” paige casually stated with a shrug, grabbing a green hoodie from out of the closet and throwing it over her head.

you sighed and leaned back on your elbows. “paige, i’m serious, don't do anything.” your gaze followed her travelling figure until she stood in between your legs. “i’m serious, too. she can't just walk all over you like that.” she held serious, yet delicate, eye contact with a tone of finality in her voice.

you let out a dramatic sigh and broke eye contact as it got to strong. “yo, stop looking at me like that.” she let out a boisterous laugh at your words, loving the impact her simple eye contact had on you. “alright,” she hummed before continuing, “were continuing our nap when I get back. text me if you want anything.”

she leaned down, softly grabbing the back of your neck as she laid a few pecks on your smiling lips. you pulled her down for one last kiss, lasting a bit longer before playfully pushing her away. “okay, now go before kk gets bothered by how long you're taking.” you shooed her away, watching her slip on a pair of crocs and grab her keys and wallet with a goofy grin on her face.

she waved goodbye and exited the room. after a few seconds you hear the faint sound of kk saying “finally!” and let out a couple of laughs before getting off the bed. you slid on the slippers paige had for you when you would come over and left the room, making your way down the hall to azzi’s room.

you melodically knocked on the door, leaning back and forth as you waited for azzi to answer. “come in!” you faintly hear from the other side before opening the door. “hey, cutie pie.” you drew out with a smile, walking into the room and draping your arms around the girl who sat at her desk.

“boo bear!” she exclaimed with a smile as she hugged you back. the two of you have always called each other affectionate names like cutie pie and boo bear due to an inside joke.

you unraveled your arms around azzi before walking over to and falling backwards onto her bed, lightly kicking off your slippers. “when did you get here?” she asked, leaving the roblox obby she had been previously playing and giving you her full attention.

“a while ago, but i was with paige.” you explained, changing your position so that you were laying on your stomach, head propped atop your hands as you looked at the girl who twirled her chair in your direction. “oh? how’s that going?” she said with a sly smile, rolling her chair closer to her bed.

you let out a dramatic sigh and shifted your head onto one arm. “to be honest, it’s definitely… going! why? has she said anything to you?” you tried to be casual with your response, but the eager tone slipped through at the end.

“ice and i have been trying to get info from her but she's been so hard to read, so we were hoping to get something out of you…” azzi lengthened her words, lightly poking your cheek and watching you let out a groan.

you watched the curly haired girl get up from her chair and plop down on the bed next to you. “who does she think she is? the riddler? like we do basically almost everything we did when we were in a relationship, but we’re not back together…?” your brows furrowed as you felt yourself growing irritated with the girl who wasn't even present.

azzi rose a brow at your remark, almost instantly causing you to hold a hand up in her direction. “before you even say anything, no, we haven't had sex since we've broken up. she respects my rule and hasn't purposefully tried anything.” azzi let out an understanding hum and nodded.

when you and paige began getting “comfy” with one another again, you had set a rule—which you often found yourself regretting—of not having sex unless you guys get back together. there has been moments where the two of you almost succumbed to the desires, but one of you always pulled back.

when you had first told azzi and ice about the rule during a gossip sesh, ice called you boring for it and azzi said that it was a responsible thing to do. “at this point, just ask her out.” azzi declared, letting out a sigh of defeat at your immediate head shake.

“absolutely not. i was the one that asked her out when we were together and then she was the one who called things off. i will never be embarrassed like that again. if she doesn't ask me out, we’ll never get back together. i’ll just wait it out, i’m a very patient girl.” you retorted in a single breath watching azzi’s eyes roll.

“i’m going to have to smack some sense into the two of you if you guys don't get back together within the next month.” azzi sternly stated but the playfulness was visible within her eyes. you laughed at her comment and rolled on your back.

“oh, so you think i’m joking?” azzi followed up and crossed her arms. “no, not at all.” you quickly responded, wiping the smile off your face. azzi laughed at your switch up and patted your knee.

after a good twenty minutes of being lost in conversation, the two of you heard some knocks on the door. at this point, the two of yo were both laying on your backs, too comfortable to get up. “come in!” azzi called out, both of your eyes glued to the door.

an upside-down perspective of paige came into view as she walked through the doorframe. “i’m here to kidnap y/n for our scheduled sleep sesh.” she announced while walking closer to where you and azzi laid.

you groaned as you felt paige pull you up from the comfortable position you were in. she tapped her foot as she waited for you to fully stand up and put the slippers back on. after doing so she grabbed your hand and led you to the door.

“if you get bored from hanging out with miss snooze fest, you know where to find me!” azzi called out with a teasing smile as she saw paige roll her eyes. “azzi, shut up!” she said in response, causing you to laugh.

“ladies, ladies, there's enough of me to go around.” paige side eyed you as soon as the words escaped your mouth, fully pulling you out of the room and closing the door behind you.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

you angled your phone to capture you and two of your teammates in a pre-game selfie, each one of you posing with one of your white poms. after taking a couple of pictures, a notification from paige popped up at the top of your phone.

you quickly brought your phone down, but not fast enough for your teammates not to see. “oh my god, finally!” you heard one of them, deborah, exclaim, turning to see both of them with wide smiles on their faces.

“we needed the two of you to get back together.” the other one, taylor, followed up with an overdramatized sigh of relief, holding a hand to her heart. you shook your head at their silliness, “we’re not back together.” you turned down their claims, earning dismissive waves.

“whatever you say but your girl wanted to see you before the game.” deborah sang, slightly shaking your shoulders as a smile teased at the corner of your lips. “yeah, and you better go up to her before emily makes a move.” taylor urged with her deadly gaze locked on the girl approaching a certain blonde baller across the hall.

“oh hell no.” deborah looked between your facial expression, which wasn’t expressing much, and the scene at the end of the hall before moving to charge towards them. taylor grabbed her after she took a couple steps and put her behind the two of you.

“y/n, you better go see whats going on over there before deb does it for you.” taylor informed with raised eyebrows, keeping an arm around deborah who was mad for you. you sucked your teeth and put a hand on your hip.

“trust me, emily is not a threat… if there was anything to be threatened.” you promptly followed up with as you watched the smiles slide onto their faces. “okay, period, loving this security in your relationship. but you know how emily is. she won't stop until she gets what she wants.” taylor spoke as you drifted your gaze back over to the two women across the hall.

you ran your tongue against your bottom lip, thinking over your options on what to do in that moment. “i guess it wouldn't hurt to go see whats going on. i mean technically paige wanted me over there anyways.” your two teammates quietly cheered, deborah hopping and taylor clapping.

you playfully shushed them and gave taylor your pom to hold before walking down what seemed to be the longest hallway. once you got closer you could more vividly see paige’s bored facial expression and emily’s hand reaching towards the girl’s arm.

you could almost laugh at the scene, quickening your step until you were right next to the pair. “hey, paige, emily.” you made your presence known, illiciting a genuine smile and a look of relief from paige, but a look of disdain and a feigned smile from emily.

“y/n, hey!” emily dragged out with an eeringly fake bubbily voice, bringing you into a tight hug. you hesitantly hugged back, taking the opportunity to side eye paige who was trying to discretely hide her amused smile behind her hand.

“paige and i were just having a private chat…” she added after you pulled away, her hand moving to touch paige’s arm but the girl simultaneously moved it away, rubbing the back of her neck.

you swallowed the laugh down and moved your gaze between their faces. “don't know about ‘private’, but yeah emma was just talking to me.” paige reworded, purposefully getting the girl’s name wrong.

you couldn't restrain the small curl at the corner of your lips, seeing how emily’s eye slightly twitched at paige’s words. she tried to play it off with a chirpy giggle and run a hand through her hair. “emily, you mean?” you asked paige with a feigned expression of confusion. you knew exactly what she was doing and she knew it.

“emma, emily, whatever is fine.” emily brushed it off, faintly narrowing her eyes as she began to turn toward you. “y/n… are you ready for today? i know how you can get.” she put a hand on your arm, offering a look of concern that the naked eye would believe was genuine but anyone with context would know was fake.

“never been more ready.” you offered her a sickly sweet smile, placing your hand on top of hers that laid on your arm before removing it. “yeah, she got it.” paige affirmed with a toothy smile, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and pulling you into her side.

emily’s smile dimmed as her gaze flickered to paige’s arm wrapped around your shoulder. “cute. didn't know the two of you were… close again.” she shifted her weight onto her other foot, making an effort to keep her poker face.

“mhm, yeah. oh, emily! i think i heard coach was looking for you…” you smoothly lied, causing her to stand up straight. “thanks, i guess i’ll go look for her.” she thanked you before trailing her eyes to paige.

“bye paige, good luck today.” she gave the blonde a sweet smile accompanied by a flirtatious wave, twirling on her feet before walking back down the hall she came from. paige took no time to lead you around the corner into an empty room.

“bye paige, good luck today.” you teased with a smile, resulting in the blonde playfully rolling her eyes and letting out a chuckle. “see how I held back?” she smartly questioned with a brow raise.

you endearingly rolled your eyes and placed yourself in front of the girl. “thank you for that. i know that took a lot in you.” she hummed, crossing her arms and nodding at your words.

“but i promise you, if it even looks like she's disrespecting you at today's game…” she took a moment to comfortably wrap her arms around you. “i know, p. i know.” you saw the way she searched your eyes for any signs of doubt in her innuendo.

“all the dots connected, though.” you informed, watching the confused look that formed on the girl’s face. “she wants you bad.” you enunciate with a shrug, pointing out the obvious. “she told you that?” paige rose her eyebrows in amusement at your claim.

“she didn't have to, it’s so obvious. that's why she's been dogging on me at practice.” you explained, earning a slow nod from paige. “she’s been doing all that just for me not to like her back. insane…” paige drew out with a shoulder shaking laugh.

you let out a small laugh and shook your head. “mhm, and why is that?” you pried, holding eye contact with paige as she slowly swung the two of you side to side. “other than her being a bitch? i got my eye on someone else.” she disclosed with a guileful smile, her gaze flickering down to your lips.

“oh, really?” she hummed a confirmation at your follow up question. “lucky, lucky girl.” the sound of your phone vibrating disrupting the brewing tension that filled the room. with a loud sigh, paige unraveled her arms around you, allowing you to check your phone.

a text from taylor displayed on the notification hub, informing you that your coach was calling for the whole team. “ i gotta go. meet afterwards?” you questioned and paige immediately agreed.

“duh, of course. you better cheer extra loud for me too.” playfully side eyed as you made your way towards the door. “i’ll think about it. drop a calm twenty for me?” you replied with your hand on the handle.

“i was gonna drop twenty regardless, but i guess i could do that for you.” paige feigned a nonchalant tone, grinning at how you blew her a kiss before fully exciting the room.

once the door fully closed she shook her head, the smile still evident as she wiped her hands down her face. its safe to say she dropped twenty-seven points for you.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

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dragon-ascent · 11 months ago

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Rex Lapis wonders if you will love a being like him. His concerns are...completely invalid.

The Geo Archon sits solemnly beside you, his tender gaze trained on you. Uncertainty clings to his heart. "The right path is one soaked in blood, but there are necessary sacrifices to be made for the sake of everyone." Rex Lapis sighs. "I have slain many and maimed many more still. Am I not frightening to you, my dearest?"

"Hmm..?" You look up from the matching couple bracelets you're making. The one for your god says "Pookie" on it.

One day he has you wrapped in a soft embrace, planting warm little kisses along your shoulder. The sweet sounds you make coupled with his growing desire for you urge him to have a little nibble - and he immediately regrets it, seeing how his fang-like canines have faintly punctured your skin.

"For...forgive me," he stammers, letting go of you and taking a step back, trying to discern the damage from your expression. But you're staring at him dreamily.

"Do it again," you urge, "and a little harder, please?"

He returns to you after a long day of discussions of strategy and governance, and your hands are immediately on him. "Squishy bear! Squishyyyy!" You pinch his cheeks and smooch the hell out of him.

"Status-wise, we are worlds apart," mumbles your divine lover forlornly through all the kisses. "I worry for how lonely I may make you feel at times."

"Silly Rex." You smoosh him into your chest, laughing as he purrs softly. "I'll just build up my reservoir of love, and whenever you're with me, I'll pour it all into you. So trust me, my love, I'll always welcome you into my arms, no matter what."

He looks up at you, the clouds of self-doubt vanishing in that moment that his golden gaze meets yours. "I would like that. Thank you, my dearest." And he kisses you tenderly, pouring his own reservoir of love into you.

#sini writes #zhongli #genshin impact #zhongli x reader #fluff #drabble #rex lapis

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zyonsay · 1 year ago

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#zyonsmail=͟͟͞͞ ✉#tumblr polls #wildfire #welcome to hell pookies #welcome to zyons rubber room

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catiuskaa · 1 year ago

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reggaeton & champagne.

PAIRING! lee minho x reader x bang chan

SUMMARY: you knew better than to go down to the club alone. and that guy should’ve known better than to mess with minho and chan’s property.

REQUESTED! by my pookie @sharonxdevi who requested this here! and it’s such a good idea, tysm for trusting me with it<3

CW: the boys may come off as a little possesive, there’s a touchy douche in the club, mentions of alcohol, it ain’t spicy but surely it’s nsfw.

WC: 2.3k

A/N: so i’ve never even thought of writing poly!skz relationships until now, but i think it came out nicely! (and if you kinda recognize the title— i just spend an unhealthy amount of time watching skz edits on instagram lololol)

[🔹☆💠☆🔹]

The sign of the club glowed with bluish neon lights at the entrance. There was also a man, notebook in hand, receiving IDs prior to welcoming the long queue of people. Although it was not the most expensive nightclub in the city, you could see the difference between it and the rest of the clubs in town, in the sense that the establishment was very tidy and clean, with security personnel scattered around the corners, watching that everything was going out smoothly.

It was unusual for you to want to go out clubbing, but considering the boys’ schedule, any chance to make plans together was welcomed with open arms.

Especially by Minho and Chan, who would never force you to go out, but their lingering stares and their arms that would sneakily clung to your waist or your shoulders —and in some cases, to lovingly slap your ass or thighs—, were meant as a way of encouragement when you dressed up and went for it.

And a way to say that, as always, you looked fine as hell.

You had chosen a short silver-coloured dress that reached your mid-thighs, accompanied by a pair of matching mesh thigh-highs with cute little clips that allowed them to stay in place, only because you knew how to entertain your public, and loved every single second their eyes stayed glued to you as you danced your heart out.

The music pounded against the walls and reverberated through the floor, but not as much as how the booze traveled through your veins, only giddy enough to celebrate how well their last tour had gone, and merely to have some well-deserved fun.

Minho’s hands grasped you by your waist, pulling you off Chan’s arms and smirking as he pushed your back flush against his body.

One of his hands remained in place, but the other one moved slowly, tempting fingers heading down to your thighs, as if walking, the motion almost ticklish. You could feel his cat-like grin from behind you as you looked at Chan, who wasn’t mad at all, rather cheekily enjoying the other man’s antics as you kept dancing against him, following the rhythm of the music.

Chris got closer to the both of you, taking your arms and settling them on his shoulders as he approached even further, now the two gentlemen dressed in fine clothes towering over you.

“Our princess is feeling good today, huh?” His hand cradled your face, holding your chin in a tender grasp, unlike Minho, who started to play with one of the clips on your high mesh stockings.

You were about to say something, but Minho tugged at one of the straps and chuckled next to your ear, slapping it back. Your breath hitched, and you bit your lip, feeling the blush rising to your cheeks, the light foundation you had applied not being able to cover it.

Chris snickered, and Minho lightly bit the shell of your ear, and they both laughed as you squirmed in between their arms.

“Ok, ok—!” You giggled, out of breath due to the tickling and else. You didn’t want to leave just yet, but didn’t want to stop teasing your boys either.

Tugging on Chan’s collar, you propelled him forward, his hands ending on Minho’s shoulders by reflex. You moved your body in between both of them, swaying your hips, playing with Chris’ hair as you turned your head to face the man behind you, and chuckled, biting his lip.

They both felt a rush of blood heading to their face—and downwards—, but you stopped Chan for pushing you against Minho even more, one of your soft hands nonchalantly moving from the back of his neck to his chest, cheekily stroking his toned upper body.

“I think we can use some more drinks, gentlemen.” Your tone was filled with an enticing mockery only powered by their presence, and you licked your lips, feeling Minho’s slender fingers playing with the rim of your dress, tapping your thigh gently.

“I think we should head to the VIP lounge.” He grunted against your ear, his breath tickling your there, but the gentle yet lust-filled kisses he left right below started driving you a bit crazy. “Whaddya think, Chan?” Minho smirked, swiftly lifting his head from your neck to stare at the older man.

With all the mix of bright coloured lights, you could notice slightly how Chris’ eyes grew darker. Almost so dark that they could fuck you themselves, and you squeezed your thighs at the thought.

“I think our little brat needs to learn that teasing won’t get her anywhere, hyung.” Minho’s slender fingers playfully traced mindless shapes on your thigh.

The older man swallowed hard, his breath deepening.

“Guess you’re on thin ice, princess.” He leaned in, and pecked Minho’s lips from above your shoulder. He then turned slightly, and spoke in your ear. “You have ten minutes to go get those drinks. Go up the VIP platform right after, like the good girl you are, mmh?”

His hum almost echoed through your body, falling into an endless pit of arousal that those two gorgeous men had created, now able to make you feel hot and bothered in just a cheeky wink or a deep look.

Making you oh so weak for them. Only them.

“Heard that, kitten?” Minho smirked, lovingly kissing your cheek, as close as he could to the corner of your lips. “Ten minutes. Tick-tock.”

You tried heading towards the bar without your knees giving out as they both moved away, and instantly missed their warmth and strong hold on your body. But before you could even try, Chris tsked, pulling you back to him and almost fiercely planting a deep kiss that lit fire on your body, and almost made you whine when he pulled away, biting your lip.

“Fuck.” He gasped, feeling breathless. “Make that five minutes for daddy, yeah?”

And with a tap on your hips and a teasing wink, he left, following where Minho had gone.

You were unable to wipe the giddy smile off your face, feeling your cheeks get hot, and you patted them, hoping that your slightly cooler hands would do something to low it down.

Shaking your head lightly, you waved at the bartender, a tall, blond and handsome young man, and he gave you a kind smile. You sat on the stool closest, and he approached you, leaning on the counter.

“Nice seeing you here for a change.” He said with a snicker.

“Wish I could say the same, Hyunjin.” You wiggled your eyebrows almost dramatically, making him laugh.

“Your three usuals, beautiful?” He asked with a grin, and you nodded. “Comin’ right up.”

You watched as he gracefully started to show off his abilities, passing drinks and metal cups and bottles in flashes and zooms, controlling every move so swiftly.

But then, you felt a hand on your waist.

“Sorry, scooching up real quick…” said a low voice from behind you.

His hands brushed your back, making you shiver. But it was a bad shiver. One that swiped away the giddiness your boys had left, but not as quickly as your smile took off.

The bold man dizzily sat on a stool that could’ve easily been a foot or two away, and your body relaxed easily at the new-formed distance.

You stared at him in a mix of slight disgust and raw astonishment. Used to your boys and the rest of the group, or people like Hyunjin, one could easily forget that people weren’t always respectful, nice and kind.

He noticed your blank stare, and misinterpreted it as interest. With a wide smile, he bent down, grabbing one of the legs of the stool you were sitting on, and smoothly moved it closer to his.

Another shiver ran through your back, goosebumps showing on your skin.

He smiled, and you held back a frown.

“Besides looking that sexy, what else do you do for a living?”

…

yikes.

That line didn’t only give you the ick, but you also noticed Hyunjin physically flinched, which made you snort, quickly covering your mouth.

The man was so drunk. You could smell it on his breath, and the guy looked rather pathetic. You didn’t feel too sorry for him, but wanted him as far as possible, and you moved to the edge of your stool.

The man looked proud of your giggles, but grew restless when you didn’t reply, so he took a sip from the glass of whiskey in front of him, kind of as if he hadn’t had anything to drink in a while.

You sat up straight, glaring at Hyunjin so he’d call security if things turned complicated, and he winked at you as a form of reassurance.

“Do you, eh, come here often?” He blurbed out.

You looked at your hands, staring at your nails, and waited for a second before giving him a side-eye from above your shoulder, slender eyes looking uninterested.

Quickly going back to your nails, you shrugged. “Enough to know that you don’t.” You brushed off coldly.

If you did, you’d know that I’m happily taken.

He stammered, his breath hitched, and you could almost feel him start getting even more nervous, as well as slightly angry.

“Huh? Why’s that?” He scoffed, eyebrows raised at you, who again, didn’t bother to look at him, a bit wary of his moody attitude.

Hyunjin smiled at you, coldly glaring at the clueless man next to you as he swiftly left the three drinks in place, pressing the red button underneath the counter to call for help.

The man smirked, going back to a confidence you didn’t want to know where he had gotten.

Placing his arm sneakily on your waist.

Huh?

“All those for you?”

Before you could react and slap him for his unrequested bold actions, you heard a grunt behind you.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

At that moment, Chan wasn’t so sure if he was the pacific one in your relationship.

He trusted you and your ability to set your own boundaries, by any means necessary, even if it meant slapping someone across the face.

And he knew them by heart. He had watched how you grimaced, trying to take this drunkard’s hands away from you.

So he helped you by slapping them off your body.

As ‘gently’ as he could.

“Move aside.” He said in a low growl, failing to relax until you moved your hand and took his, squeezing it as a way of thanking him.

Instead of getting the hint, the man frowned.

“Hey, if you can’t tell, I was trying to—”

Minho scoffed, appearing behind the man.

“Keep babbling around our girl and I’ll give you a story to tell.” He said in a dark, low tone of voice, eyes and tongue so sharp that they could almost pierce right through the man. “Now shoo.”

Security came by a minute after and apologized for not taking care of him before, then fined him, following the nightclub’s rules and finally kicked the man out.

One of the security guys approached the three of you, and bowed swiftly, apologizing.

“I’m really sorry. This guy has already annoyed some other customers before. I’ll speak to the owner of the place and see if there is something we can do regarding his situation. As for you, miss…” He gave you his card, and you smiled at him, bowing your head gently.

“My name is Seo Changbin. If you ever need anything…” he sighed, a hand to his nape, the buff man slightly flustered. “Don’t hesitate to call me. I can’t think of another way to compensate you…”

Chan smiled, and shook hands with the security guard.

“No need to worry, mate. It’s fine now.” He stated calmly, his other hand still engulfing yours.

Minho bowed at him, his arm around your waist, as if trying to erase any marks or traces of the drunkard’s touch.

“Home, love?” He said in a gentle whisper, kissing your temple after you nodded. “S’okay.”

Minho opened the door to the car for you, and Chan’s hand never left your thigh the whole way back home.

As soon as you got back, you let out a tired sigh.

Chris hugged you from behind, and you melted under his touch. With a soft grin, Minho ushered Chan’s arms away from you, and swiftly took you in his arms.

“Sleepy?” The older one asked, but you shook your head. You didn’t want the night to end on this note. “Then I’ll go get something. You guys get going.” He smiled at you, eyes soft as he lovingly stroke your cheek, your face resting on Minho’s shoulder.

With a slight smirk, he patted Minho’s butt, and headed to his studio.

“Bang Chan!” He whisper-yelled, ears red, and you chuckled lowly.

“Cheeky little baby.” Minho cooed at you, heading to your shared room, and you giggled softly, hiding your head on the crook of his neck. “Let us take care of you, yeah?”

You moved your head from his neck and pecked his lips. Minho took you to bed, and tenderly took your heels off.

“Shower?” He asked softly, but you shook your head no, so he nodded, taking off your dress. With a cat-like grin, his fingers went back to your thighs.

“You have to wear these more often, you little tease.” He snickered, and you smiled, blushing softly. “You look so good in everything.” He said, stroking your cheek.

Chan quickly came back, fluffy blankets and laptop with him.

“Movie night!” He smiled, almost childishly, and both your and Minho’s heart tugged on your chests.

They took their fancy clothes off and put on sleeveless shirts and the matching pyjama pants you had gifted them for Christmas, who were at first meant as a joke, but remained being used just because how comfy they were.

There, snuggled between Chan and Minho, you smiled, taking both of their hands.

“I’m hungry.” You said, pouting unconciously.

“We can make popcorn if you want.” Christ suggested, pausing the movie.

You sat in your knees, looking at them with a smirk.

Minho smirked back, starting to guess where this was headed.

“What do you want to eat, kitten?”

You snickered.

“I want to have ramen.”

~kats, who hopes everyone understood that kdrama reference just now ;););););)

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cregansdingdong · 9 months ago

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The Dingdong Masterlist

𝕊𝕞𝕦𝕥 =𖤓 𝔽𝕝𝕦𝕗𝕗 = ❆ 𝔸𝕟𝕘𝕤𝕥 = ☾

Hi pookie, I'm Liza. Welcome to Cregansdingdong :)

Most works will be 18+/NSFW or feature generally dark or mature themes. I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume.

This is an 18+ blog/no use of y/n.

***do NOT repost, copy, or publish my work on other sites or use it for bots***

Minors do not interact.

Updated: December 5th, 2024

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕘𝕒𝕟 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕜

ɢɪᴠᴇ. 𖤓 cregan eats out his pretty princess; f!reader, 18+

ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ɪꜱ ꜰɪɴᴇ. ❆ cregan fluff with his pregnant wife; f!reader

ᴍᴇʀᴄʏ. 𖤓 cregan reminds his wife who she belongs to; f!reader, 18+

ꜰᴇᴀꜱᴛ. 𖤓 cregan sits back as his wife rides the seven hells out of him; f!reader, 18+

ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜɴ. 𖤓 cregan wakes up to a nice surprise; f!reader, 18+

ʜᴏɴᴇʏᴍᴏᴏɴ. 𖤓 cregan and his wife get caught; f!reader, 18+

ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. 𖤓 cregan and his wife break their bed; f!reader, 18+

ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ. 𖤓 cregan and his wife take a day off to fuck; f!reader, 18+

ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴ ᴇɴᴅʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴅᴀʏ. ❆𖤓 cregan loves to make love; f!reader, 18+

ꜱᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ʜᴏʀꜱᴇ, ʀɪᴅᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴋ. 𖤓 cregan's wife might be mad; f!reader, 18+

ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘʟᴇꜱꜱ. ☾𖤓 cregan and his wife can't sleep after an argument; f!reader, 18+

ʜᴇʀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴘᴜᴘ. 𖤓 cregan can be submissive on occasion; f!reader, 18+

𝕁𝕒𝕔𝕒𝕖𝕣𝕪𝕤 𝕍𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕣𝕪𝕠𝕟

ʀᴇꜱᴛʟᴇꜱꜱ. 𖤓 jace needs a bit of a pep fuck talk; f!reader, 18+

ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ᴍᴇ. 𖤓 save a horse, ride a velaryon; f!reader, 18+

𝔸𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕕 𝕋𝕒𝕣𝕘𝕒𝕣𝕪𝕖𝕟

ɢᴜᴀʀᴅᴇᴅ. ☾ aemond's walls are high; f!reader

ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ. ❆ aemond fluff for the soul; f!reader

• things I'm working on •

♡ ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴇꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀɴɴɪꜱᴛᴇʀꜱ. 𖤓 f!reader/modern au

♡ ᴄʀᴀᴠɪɴɢ. 𖤓 m!reader

♡ ᴀᴄᴇ. 𖤓 f!reader/academic rivals au/sub!Jace

♡ ᴛᴇꜱᴛ ᴍᴇ. 𖤓 f!reader

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

#dingdongmasterlist #hotd masterlist #cregan stark x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #cregan stark

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anyarose011 · 8 months ago

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"Crawling Back to You" {Aemond x Reader}

Summary: It started with a night out in King's Landing, then a fake name, and then a disagreement. Some time after cooling off, and after a job gone wrong, you and the one-eyed prince come to...an understanding in the rain.

Part 2 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Oral sex (f and m receiving), nudity, groping, talk of death, swearing, canon-typical injury, sexual harassment (not done by Aemond), and mention of past child SA

Heyyyyyy pookies. So I just started my senior year and it's been hectic. BUT I hope this long ass chapter (it took me forever) makes up for it! I'm also not sure how accurately I'm writing Aemond. I mean, I know HBO is making him into the edgiest edge lord, but I'm taking creative liberties i guess. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 8.5k

“It’s a pleasure to finally put a name to your face. One that fits its beauty.” He smiled.

You lowered your gaze, fighting the smile on your lips. It was a stupid compliment, one that you had heard several variations of the rare times men would flirt with you those days. But…it felt different from him.

Still, you merely scoffed, setting the jug on your hip. “Do you want to lead the way, or should I?”

“Go ahead; considering you believe I’ll harm you somehow.”

“See?” You decided to tease instead of defy as you began to walk up the cobbled hill. “You are funny.”

Aemond scoffed, following you. “Did I ever deny it?”

“How you reacted when I first said it never gave me a clear answer.”

“Shouldn’t you change?”

You looked back at him. “What?”

Unashamedly, his eye trailed over your body and yours soon followed. Your nipples were perking through the thin material of the dress.

“Seven Hells.” You cursed, bringing the jug in front of yours.

Aemond came to your side, a hand on your back and leading you up the hill. “You don’t wear a corset?”

“Not with this. I’m meant to lure lustful men, remember?”

“Perhaps you can tell me where you tailor so we can get more appropriate clothing?”

Hell no.

“Or,” you suggested. “I could teach you how to properly steal something?”

“You need to be able to not draw attention to yourself to do that.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“I have no doubt, but the clothing off a man’s back?”

You paused for a moment before replying. “Yes, actually; I even managed all of one’s undergarments.”

Aemond shook his head, pulling his hood farther up to hide his smile. “I mean more so with that dress.”

“It might surprise you, but that is how I robbed him blind.”

“I mean in the sense that-.”

“-I understand.” You shut him up, but not aggressively. The two of you passed by more and more people through the many alleys of King’s Landing. When you got to the main roads, you would’ve lost Aemond in the crowd if it weren’t for the fact his hand had traveled from your back to your arm.

Maybe it was because he was paying you, or maybe it was because you didn’t know how touch starved you had been until it felt like his hand was simultaneously burning and soothing you; but you welcomed his touch.

As you continued to brave through the busyness of the city, you managed to spot a hobbling man wearing a long cloak with a drink in his hand. You smirked at your companion.

“Are you watching?”

He nodded, and how he looked you up and down briefly didn’t escape you. “I’m watching.”

You handed him the jug of water and approached the slightly incapacitated man. You pitched your voice up when you asked. “Ser?”

The man glanced up at you through hooded eyes, and he grunted in response.

“Are you alright?” You feigned concern, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to hold him up.

“Aye.” He sighed. “Much better now that you’re here.”

You giggled, leading him. “You’re too kind.”

“If it’s possible, could that kindness be repaid?”

“Let me at least have your name first,” you turned him down a spacious alleyway where there were less people. “Then I will know what to scream.”

“Gaius. You may-oi!”

You snatched the cloak right off his shoulders and took off in a mad dash down the rest of the alley. Turning your head over your shoulder for merely a second, you were graced to watch as the drunk man stumbled over his own footing before two hands in front of you grabbed your arms. Once you were pulled around the corner, you raised your hands to strike your assailant; to which he caught both of them.

“Is it truly that easy to rob Smallfolk?” Aemond asked, not letting go of your wrists.

Snickering, you pulled away from him. “I thought you said you were watching me?”

“I was.”

“Clearly not.” You slipped the cloak over your body, tying it. “You were lurking in the shadows.”

“I still saw you.” He retorted.

Shaking your head, you bent down and picked up your jug of water on the ground. Then, you stuck your hands into the pockets of the cloak. Your face lit up, and your retracted your hand, holding four pennies in your palm.

“Come with me.” Was all you said before walking past him and continuing down the street.

Aemond was by your side once more. “And where exactly are you taking me to?”

“Are you fond of sweets?”

“I enjoy them, but rarely indulge.”

“Then I will be more of a temptress tonight without having to show any of my skin.” You said excitedly.

All the prince did was smile; somehow trusting your ‘madness’. It was a short walk from where you were to a small stand in one of the several market corners of King’s Landing. Despite the long line, you pushed to the front, ignoring all of the comments and curses from the people.

“Evening, Marija.” You greeted the older woman. “Oh my, has someone bewitched you? You look younger!”

“What do you want?” She sighed your name tiredly, but a pleasant smile was on her features.

Sliding the four pennies onto the counter, you said. “Two dishes of Northern Snow.”

“Do you have two other pennies?”

“This was all I was paid.” You sighed. “You know how short everyone is on coin.”

“Precisely why I need every bit of what is owed to me.”

Shaking your head, you lowered your voice. “Do you see the man lingering behind me? The one with one eye.”

She glanced over your shoulder for just a moment, long enough for it to look like an accident and not a stare. “Yes?”

“He’s a rich lord from Essos,” You began the lie with a truth. “and he has fallen in love with me.”

“You have always told marvelous tales, but even for you-.”

“-Marija…I have a good feeling about him.” You spoke with more insistence. “You know that doesn’t happen very often.”

The older woman looked at you for a little longer, as if to try and pick apart your deceit. Then, when she could find no trace of it, she sighed heavily. Still, she brought out two small vanilla cakes and laid them on the counter, then brought out the bowl of puffy cream.

“You better invite me to this extravagant wedding of yours.” She frosted the cakes with the cream, creating a fluffy topping that looked as if it was true snow itself. Marija then drizzled melted chocolate over both cakes before handing them to you. “Considering this handsome stranger is wealthy.”

“He is strange.” You chuckled. “A bit arrogant too, but I shall live.”

“All men are arrogant.”

“You have not met this one. Thank you, Marija.”

“Sure, sure,” she scoffed. “Give me your water as well; I’m parched.”

“Only if you give me the jug back. I need it.”

“I’ll come around tomorrow and visit Yelena in the meantime, is that alright?”

Your smile fell for just a moment, before forcing it back. “Sounds great!”

Rushing away, you could barely hear her goodbye before you soon found Aemond again, handing him the dish. His nose wrinkled as you immediately sunk your fork into the pastry. “What is this?”

“Northern Snow.” Your answer was somewhat muffled by the amount of food in your mouth. “Marija’s traveled across the realms and has been popular for her desserts. The snow is just whipped cream with sugar and some rosewater.”

“The brown parts?” He poked the treat.

“Chocolate, but it’s meant to look like horse droppings.”

“I believe I’ll pass.”

You shook your head. “I’m meant to be showing you around the joys of the city that is not just brothels. Trust me.”

He matched your seriousness. “And if I find it revolting?”

“Then you may know where I tailor.”

Humming, he smiled as he dug his fork into the cake and then into his mouth. He pursed his lips together as you watched him ponder the taste. Then, he shook his head, taking another bite.

“You must be a witch to have known I would favor it.”

Smiling victoriously, the two of you walked a short while through the congested market until you managed to find two chairs and a table.

“What did you tell her?” He asked as you sat. “The woman who made this?”

“That you were Prince Aemond and would have my head if I did not serve you a Smallfolk delicacy.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.” You agreed, taking a bite of your treat. You hesitated on your next words. “I…she’s a romantic, and I didn’t have enough for the cakes, so I told her you were a rich lord courting me.”

It was nice you didn’t immediately expect him to lash out or condemn you to your death; he seemed genuinely composed every time you were with him, and he stuck to that.

“And what was my name?” He humored.

“I didn’t tell her one.” You teased. “If you were not yourself, what would you have wanted to be called?”

He hummed, taking time for an answer before settling on. “Ciarán.”

“I’ve met one or two of those.” You nodded. “It’s a good name.”

“Might I ask you a question now?”

“Of course.”

“Do you summon your knife out of thin air, or do you hide it in your cunt?”

Choking on your food, you placed your hand over your mouth to stifle the sound. Once you were alright, you finally looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“The rumors I’ve heard of you isn’t just about your beauty.” He grinned, knowing the effect on you. “It’s known that you assault men with a blade, but I’ve heard conflicting accounts.”

You stared at him for a little longer before shaking your head, snorting. “Inside of my thigh, like a normal person. You nearly grazed it the first night.”

“Did I?” He tilted his head to the side.

Nodding, you smirked as you took another bite. It was then that his eye darkened just a hint. “What?”

Aemond didn’t verbally respond. Instead, he bunched up the sleeve of his shirt, reached over to take your face into his free hand, and wiped the corner of your lip with his sleeve. “You had something white on your face.”

It was your turn to hum at his statement, continuing to eat; yet, you would glance at him more often while you slid the fork into your mouth, tongue trying to lick the utensil clean of the whipped cream. You both finished up in silence between each other, yet the people around you only chatted excitedly, laughed boldly, or moaned and fucked one another in the dingiest of places nearby.

“Is it fun to be a prince?” You asked, pushing in your chair when you bother stood to leave.

“I wouldn’t call it such.” Aemond shrugged, following suite, and the two of you were wandering aimlessly once again.

“Then what is it you do for fun?”

“I find myself in the library often; reading, studying the history.” He listed. “I train with Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the Hand of the king.”

“You sound like you enjoy his company.”

“I enjoy making him falter as we spar.” He looked at you. “You mustn’t be so horrible in combat. On account of you supposedly taking men’s lives for bounties.”

Shaking your head, you place your hands in the pockets of the cloak. “I don’t take pride in it. I’ve also had my fair share of bruises and broken bones.”

“How many have you killed?”

“How many have you?”

Your response would’ve only worked if it had not been for the well-known fact he had killed Lucerys; something you had forgotten when you saw him again. Now, there you both were, your pace slowing equally in the silence that was the discomfort you had created.

Still, he responded. “Only one; and I assume you along with the rest of Westeros knows who by now.”

Nodding, you kept your eyes down on the road in front of you.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I did it?” He questioned.

You shook your head. “It’s not my place. If you wish to tell me, then tell me. If not, then I believe it’s your turn to ask something about me.”

Humming, he prodded. “Again, how many men have you killed?”

“The same as you.” You stood closer to him as a crew of rowdy men began to pass by. “He was an angry man; a ratcatcher fired from his profession, and to my luck, with no family or anyone to miss him.”

“It must have been his luck as well, considering what happened to all of them merely a week ago.”

You didn’t want to acknowledge the gate into that conversation. “I had only done the luring and thievery for a single moon; the worst I had come across was a bloodied nose and a bruised rib. This night…Chansey had warned me not to pursue him, but I was young and ignorant. I didn’t even get to the well before he came up behind me and…”

This was far too intimate of a story to tell someone you had only met twice; nonetheless, one of the princes of Westeros. You decided to end it as soon as possible. “He didn’t hurt me in the way you’re thinking. We struggled against one another, I had no knife with me at the time, but he did. He dropped it as we fought, we both reached for the blade, and I got it first.”

The two of you had somehow wandered into a small, quiet square; perhaps only a few other people resting from a drunken bender. Aemond, with his hands behind his back, simply inquired.

“Did he have anything of value on him?”

Shaking your head, you grinned. “Three pennies, a half-penny, and a surprisingly clean red scarf.”

“And the scarf was the most priceless.”

“Of course. I would’ve died in the winter without it.”

You both chuckled, and it was him who halted the walking. You stopped in front of him a few places.

“I hadn’t meant to kill Luke.” Aemond admitted softly.

“Lucerys?” You clarified.

“Yes; only frighten him.” He sighed. “It…it was an unfortunate outcome to what I had intended.”

If he were not himself (perhaps the rich Lord Ciarán he wished to be for that one night), then you would have told him it did not matter what he intended. A boy was dead and that put all of Westeros at risk. Still, whilst your anger was present, you understood you would never know what happened that day. You also understood his regret above all; you had no right to act like a saint.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You genuinely had no idea how to respond to him. So, you did what your mother had done for you whenever you were upset as a child: Ask what you needed from her.

His eye met yours, and you somehow found the courage to not look away from him. After what felt like a lifetime, he approached you suddenly and gradually wrapped his arms around you. Your body was akin to a corpse with how frozen you had become. Still, it didn’t last for long as you found yourself easing into his hold, your own arms around his neck. The night was so quiet, you could hear his shallow breaths in your ear.

Then, his hand slipped into your pocket.

At the sudden change of touch, you flinched out of his touch, but he merely shushed you, pulling away fully. You reached into the pocket and pulled out what he had promised you; three silver moons.

Swallowing thickly, you looked up at him and saw…an array of emotions you could not describe. So, you spoke first.

“I…I hope tonight was enough for you. I’m not sure what else I-.”

“-It was nice.” He interrupted, his gaze still on you. “Lovely, even.”

Nodding, you pocketed the moons and kept your hands at your side. “I bid you a goodnight, Little Prince.”

He rose his brow. “I don’t believe I gave you permission to call me that.”

“Will you have my head then, your grace?” You taunted.

“I should.” He walked closer to you. “But I won’t. What direction is your house?”

Your heart leapt; yet, not in the way it should have after an attractive man (you would later admit) made a forward remark.

“Oh no, I will not bother you.”

“It is not a bother if I desire to see you home safely.” He argued.

“Aemond,” you stepped back, not wanting to play a game. “I don’t want you to walk with me for the rest of the night.”

The quietness returned; but, not one of comfort. He didn’t look angry, and that was what frightened you. He merely stood tall like a man.”

“I see.”

“I didn’t mean to say it so-.”

“-Yet you said it.”

Shaking your head, you tried again. “I offended you, and I’m sorry. My house is no place for anyone other than myself and-, not even other smallfolk.”

“I wouldn’t go inside if that is what worries you. I am merely curious.”

“Look,” you approached him again, only for him to step away. “if you wish to see me again, I wouldn’t mind at all-.”

“-As long as I have coin.”

Your face went blank for a few seconds you had been so shocked by his words, and soon formed a scowl. “You had offered.”

“You didn’t reject it.”

All you could do was laugh. “You-!”

He wasn’t the one to cut you off, it had been yourself. Taking a deep breath, you folded your hands over your mouth to ponder your next words. You were tired, frustrated, and wanted to go home. So, you did exactly that.

“Be safe on your journey back to the Red Keep.” Was all you said, and you brushed past him, expecting him to call you a nasty name, or chase after you again.

But, like the first night you had met him: He did nothing.

A week later, you were back where you’d always been at night: Sylvi’s brothel. As you prettied yourself, the girls were restless; not with enthusiasm for the clients, but for the talk of war. Whether it was the fear of death it would bring, or the lust for strong men to take comfort inside of a woman.

You were a part of the former. Not as horrible as some girls (you found one vomiting up her dinner after the discussion), but you had to admit you were judgmental of those excited about it. You yourself had never experienced war…but if it was just a smidge like the violence you and other women had ever suffered multiplied by a thousand…it wasn’t something you were looking forward to.

Later, you waited in Sylvi’s private quarters (the one place no one is allowed to go during work hours unless she permitted it) until it was Chansey who came, saying she had quarry for you.

She had been with an older, retired member of the Lannister guards. He was three and fifty, she told you; fucked like an animal, but when it was over, while he desired to do it again, his body ached so horribly he could only walk.

It was meant to be easy…but for any reason at all, it wasn’t that night.

You stumbled as you brought your knife out, and he unsheathed a dagger from his side. You fought and fought, it almost being like a twisted dance; he’d strike, you’d doge, and vice versa. He swiped against your side, and it stung but you had no time to even seethe in pain as he brought his blade up to stab you again.

He’d gotten tired sooner than you imagined, and you grabbed onto his sleeve, then dragging him into a handful of barrels nearby. He landed in a crash, and he wasn’t getting up. He was still breathing as you looted him. A few Coppers and a silver Stag.

It was only then, as you pushed your way through the boisterous crowds, that you felt your head begin to lighten, and your side grow heavy. Looking down at the gnawing pain, you saw crimson soak your thin gown. Oh…you were wounded.

“Chansey?” You called out over the groaning of whores and their patrons once you made it back to the brothel. The lights seemed dimmer than usual, and with one hand keeping pressure on your wound, you used your other to tap the shoulder of the nearest server.

She gasped upon seeing you. “What happened?”

“Where’s Chansey?” You asked.

“She-she’s with someone.”

“Seven Hells, already?!” Sighing, you took one of the chalices off her tray. “Fuck it, I’ll do it myself.”

And you took it in one gulp. The server gaped at you as you took another one, also downing it like it was water. “Thank you.”

Her voices of worry were once again drowned out by the sound of constant pleasure from every corner of the brothel. Now, what the server did not tell you, was that it wasn’t the cheap wine usually served to the common payer; no…it was incredibly rich, and incredibly strong.

It also didn’t help you barely ate or drank water that day. So, to no one’s surprise but yours, you were stumbling through the entire pleasure house.

“Needle and thread?” You slurred, pulling open one of the curtains abruptly only to see five naked women lying next to two men. “Sorry.”

You felt the blood begin to seep through the small cracks of your fingers and your pressure wavering as you made your way to the next curtained area.

“Do you have a needle and thread?” You asked again, being welcomed by Valda laying on her back with a man’s head between her legs.

She screamed at your intrusion and cried your name. “What the fuck?!”

“Hey,” in your haze, you found it amusing. “do you know where Chansey is?”

“Get out!”

“Okay, okay.” you whistled at the man. “Good ser, I do declare that you are a gift from The Seven because only They know how many men actually come here to-.”

“-Wait, are you bleeding?!” She sat up in alarm.

You left immediately, taking deep breaths to try and remain upright as you continued your search. A hand grazed your shoulder.

“Are you alright, girl?”

A putrid looking man questioned with a toothy grin as you turned briefly to see who touched you. You nodded. “I’m fine, go away.”

“Hey now,” he tried to make a grab for you again, but you shoved him off. “don’t be like that.”

“I’m dying, I think I can be.”

“Let me give you a little death.” He flirted.

You grabbed the nearest curtain, tossing it aside. “For fuck’s sake, does anyone have a-?!”

Words failed as you gazed upon Madame Sylvi sucking the cock of a standing man. It was then that your eyes traveled up his body, and saw a familiar, silver-haired prince.

A prince with one eye shut, and a sapphire where an eye-patch should have been.

Your mouth ran dry at the sight of him falling apart in whimpers, and it dropped once his eye opened and immediately went to yours.

Aemond released a loud groan, tossing his head back as cum dripped through the creases of Sylvi’s mouth. She drew herself away from him, still on her knees, wiping her mouth and looking over at your interruption.

“What in the devil’s name are you doing here?!”

Your words fell into syllables as you genuinely had no idea what to say. Then, in the corner of your eye, you saw the man that had been following retreat.

“Hey!” You yelled, hobbling after him. “You sheep fucker, get back here!”

Two hands grabbed your shoulders and turned you around sharply, causing a reminder of the wound in your side. You hissed, clutching it and trying to smother a cry. You kept your head low as the person who had manhandled you led you back into Sylvi’s small room. You were laying on the pillows and thin mattress. It was then you saw Aemond Targaryen hovering above you.

“No-!” You tried to push him away.

“-Calm down.” He insisted, restraining you. “You’re going to make it worse.”

“If you touch me, I’ll carve out your other eye and feed it to your mother.” You slurred.

Instead of killing you right there, he thinned his lips. “While I don’t doubt that, you shouldn’t need to worry; I’m well spent.”

You gagged, shutting your eyes in disgust and tossing your head further into the pillow you rested on. You felt a presence soon beside you, and you opened your eyes to see Sylvi.

“My prince,” she turned to Aemond. “please wait in my personal quarters and I’ll-.”

“-I’ll hold her down.” He interrupted. “She’s a fighter, if you don’t know.”

“Believe me,” she unscrewed a bottle of alcohol. “I do.”

Sylvi hiked up your dress, completely exposing you from the waist down, and poured liquid over your side, causing a squeal to escape your throat. In an attempt to not just remain calm for yourself and everyone else in the building, you did your best to stifle your cries. It only became harder to do once Sylvi stuck a needle in your skin.

That was when you instinctively rose yourself up, only for Aemond to force you back down, putting his entire weight upon you. Your hands traveled up to his bare shoulders, sinking your nails into his skin and even scratching in an animalistic attempt to get him off of you.

Tears welled in your eyes as you took in quivering breaths and suppressed your grunts in pain. It looked like everything was underwater, and you could barely make out the face of the man above you. You only saw the shimmering jewel where his left eye should’ve been.

Then, the pain was over.

Your heartbeat began to slow down, and it was no longer the only sound in your ears. Your body rose momentarily as you felt bandages being wrapped around your waist, and your dress finally lowered, covering your nakedness. You felt a warm hand brush your face gently before it pulled away abruptly.

“What did you do now?” Sylvi sighed, tossing her materials away.

You groaned, unable to move. “Bad job.”

“And so, you decided to come and bother me?”

“Chansey was fucking someone and I-.”

“-Watch your words!” She lightly slapped your face and whispered fiercely. “Prince Aemond is here, and I will not have you speak like that.”

You laughed, glancing over at Aemond, who had put his pants on, and was working on his shirt. “Do you hear that, Aemond? I can’t say ‘fuck’!”

“Are you drunk?” She hissed.

“Nooooo.” You trailed off before giggling.

Sylvi stood, placing her head in her hands and shaking her head. Now noticing how strange the whole situation was, you pushed yourself up. Your body was scalding, but you would rather die walking away from embarrassment than in the heat of it.

“He had some coin.” you sat up. “I don’t know where it went, but I’ll find it. I have to go home now.”

“You are not walking out like this.” She pushed you back down.

“I’m not sleeping here.”

“I’ll take her back.”

The prince stood tall, slipping his patch over the sapphire. Sylvi shook her head. “No.”

“Are you questioning my authority, Madame?” He challenged.

You watched her flinch. Then, taking a breath she explained. “You needn’t bother with her; she’s a humble, little thing that doesn’t listen to anyone other than herself. Besides, you requested and paid for two hours, yet you have only used twenty min-.”

“-I will gladly spend the rest of it escorting her home.”

Again, the only sounds being heard was skin slapping alongside loud moans outside. You looked in between the prince and the Madame as if you were a child being fought over. So, coughing, you sat up again.

“Can I wear my own clothes, please?”

Sylvi, for the first time that night, coddled you. “Of course. Aemond, could you tell the first girl you see to fetch her clothes from my quarters, please?”

He nodded, leaving you two alone. When he was out of sight, she brushed the hair sticking against your sweaty face.

“Tell him you changed your mind, and you’re too weak to walk.” She begged.

“And if he says he’ll carry me?”

She scoffed. “He won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Sylvi kissed your cheek as if to soothe you. “I don’t want you to be alone with him.”

“He told me he already had his fill of cunt.”

“Men can still hurt little girls without their cock.”

“Take a look at me,” you sassed. “don’t you think I already know that?”

She said your name softly. “He’s not as kind as he seems.”

“No, he’s not. He acts like he’s been born out of an ass’ ass. I mean…how you feel about the Dowager Queen-.”

Slamming a hand over your mouth, she spoke in your ear. “-Not another word from you. You listen to me; I’ve come to know him for the years I’ve spent with him longer than the weeks you have had with him.”

“If he’s so horrible,” you took her hand away. “then tell me what he has done.”

“He-.”

“-Never mind, I don’t care.”

Instead of stepping into the room, Aemond had tossed your set of clothes through the curtains, landing on the floor. Without words, but with looks that could kill, Sylvi helped dress you and then led you out of the brothel.

It was downpouring, and while your clothes thankfully covered almost every inch of your skin, save for your face, you weren’t in the mood to be bathed in rainwater. Sylvi hadn’t even wished you a proper goodbye; just nodded to a hooded Aemond beside you and went back inside.

“I assume you can walk?” He asked, almost annoyed at his own idea to walk you home.

“You’re not going to carry me?” You teased.

“No.”

Sighing dramatically, you took a few steps out into the rain, and immediately felt agonizing pain. Well, not as bad as earlier, but it hurt. Still, you decided to follow the best given advice: Walk it off.

“Stop, stop.” Aemond shook his head after you limped four more steps, coming to your side. “Lean against me.”

You didn’t argue, draping your arm over his shoulders. You both walked as quick as you could in the rain, you giving him directions the best you could (he had to turn around twice to go back to the same fork in the road) until you tapped his shoulder.

“Wait-wait, I don’t feel good.”

“Seven Hells.” He cursed, pulling you over to the side of the street. Grabbing your hands he placed them on the nearest wall, standing behind you to guide you.

“Hey, hey!” You rose your voice. “Don’t-don’t you even think of hiking my skirt up!”

“You’re going to smell like death in a moment, why would I ever-?”

“-Because men are…are…”

You gagged, and Aemond’s hands immediately vanished as you threw up what little you had eaten that day. Your throat was on fire the whole time, making the chill of the rain even more apparent.

“Oi!” An older man yelled. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

You nodded, wiping your mouth and turning over to look at him standing in a doorway of his shop. “Yes, thank you!”

“Do you know that man with you?”

Before Aemond could say anything, you pat his shoulder affectionately. “I’ll have you know, this is Lord Ciarán of House…Strong…Man, Strongman. He’s one of the richest men in Westeros.”

“Is that so?” He nodded, then looked at your companion. “Lad, do yourself a favor and put your old lady to bed.”

Aemond forced a smile, taking your arm and returning it back to its proper place over his shoulder. The two of you were on the road again, you leading him blindly throughout the streets. The rain felt nice at this point; not exactly, but your throat had been parched, so most of the time, you were holding your mouth up and tongue out like a child to catch the rainwater.

At one point, he hissed in pain, his hand coming up to his eyepatch.

“What is it, what’s wrong?!” You gasped.

“Nothing.” He cursed. “’Just keep going.”

Reluctantly, you carried on through King’s Landing until you reached your home.

“Okay, we’re here.” You stopped him a few minutes later.

Aemond looked at the building before him; it was a bouchère. “Here?”

“No, down there.”

He followed your gaze, and sure enough, there was a set of stairs to the side leading down. Carefully, you both scaled down the steps, and entered your home.

There was no leaking anywhere, to your surprise. With only the little amount of light within the sitting room, you knew Aemond (even with one eye) could see just how much dust there was on the furniture.

“Hells,” he sighed heavily, slipping off his cloak before you could stop him. “how do you live in this humidity? I can barely breathe.”

“I-.”

“-Vivi.” A sweet, tired voice called for you.

In the corner of the room, in her usual chair, was your grandmother. Her eyes drew up to the door once you entered, and they were alight.

“I thought you were out for too long.” She stood.

“Evening, Gigi.” You staggered over, embracing her. “And how was holding down the fort?”

“Some mice almost came in, but I showed them who was the boss around here.”

“I’m sure you did.”

It was only then did she fully realize there was someone else with you; a man. A man with silver hair. She gasped, turning back to you.

“Siobhan, you didn’t tell me the king was visiting!”

You cackled. “Gigi no, this is my friend-.”

She gently took his hand into hers, kissing it. “-Your grace, you must forgive my dear girl; she has a knack for getting into trouble, but not for telling me things.”

And then, Aemond did something you weren’t expecting. He placed his other hand over your grandmother’s, smiling.

“All is forgiven.”

Her grin was contagious as she pulled her hand away to hike her long skirt up, walking to the kitchen. “Oh, I shall make tea! Imagine what Cassian would think?” She chuckled. “Jaehaerys himself in our house!”

The name she uttered sobered you up; not all of you, but enough for terror to return into your body. Once she was out of sight, with a growing fear in your eyes, you looked at Aemond.

“You-you must understand, she hasn’t been herself since I was a child. I don’t think she’s even aware there is-was another-.”

“-I’m not a fool.” He stopped you. Noticing you had the face of someone who would vomit for the second time that night, he said. “I told you; I enjoyed reading the histories. I’m well aware the king before my father was Jaehareys.”

Feeling as if you could breathe again, you rested against the wall. “Thank you.”

Aemond hummed. “Why ‘Gigi’?”

“She never liked me calling her ‘Grandmama’.”

“And who’s Siobhan?”

Your eyes drew to the ground. No mice were in the house, but a few spiders had made their way in. “My mother.”

“Ah.” Was all he could manage.

“She uh, she died when I was one and ten; that’s when Gigi…”

“How?”

“What?”

“How did she die?”

Something clogged your throat, and your head felt heavy all over again. Swallowing the lump, you tried to find the words to-.

“-Forgive me. “Aemond spoke. “I shouldn’t have prodded.”

“No, you-.” You shook your head. “I understand your curiosity.”

And there you two were, against the wall in silence. Sighing you finally said.

“She forgets what she was meant to do when she enters a room with a purpose.” You explained. “I guarantee you, she’s doing a puzzle instead of making tea. We don’t have the best leaves anyway.”

He nodded. “Do you wish for me to leave, then?”

Your eyes went to one of the only windows in the house; the long, thin panel at the top where you could see the feet of everyone in King Landing if it were a nice day. The rain came down harsher, the spattering of water being almost too loud.

“You can stay until the storm eases,” you answered. “if you want.”

“I would prefer it.”

Nodding, the heaviness of your head did not cease, and your eyes drifted to the doorway in the back of sitting room. You made your way through it, glancing back at Aemond.

“If I may be candid, I’m quite exhausted. So…unless you’d prefer being called ‘Your Grace’ by my grandmother, then you’re more than welcome to talk with me in my room.”

“Hm, the former sounds tempting.” Despite his words, he followed close behind you.

You pushed open your door, took a few steps towards your bed, and lowered yourself to lie down with a sharp wince. The prince took his time observing your room, taking in every little detail. From the residue of a mess being pushed under your bed, to old childhood art pieces up on the wall.

One piece had caught his eye the most. A sketch of a woman’s face; a haunting gaze in her eyes that would make anyone believe she was watching them.

Much like yours…

“This is Siobhan?”

Better to use your mother’s name as if she were a stranger instead of calling her ‘your mother’.

“Gigi drew that.” You smiled lightly. “It was on one of her namedays.”

“It’s beautiful.”

His compliment unnerved you before it flattered you. You deflected with a joke. “Beautiful enough to have her paint the Targaryens the next time they so desire it?”

“If she cannot remember to boil tea-?”

“-She is herself again when she does or speak of things she loves.” You sat farther up against the wall behind your bed “Even if they’re things that no longer are with us.”

He sat at the edge of the mattress. “And what are some of those things?”

Oh, where to start? As your mind rattled over what exactly to say first, you truly looked over Aemond for the first time. It was strange; you had acknowledged his attractiveness for just a moment, but never delved more into it.

Then, as you stared at him, you knew exactly what to tell him.

Giggling, you began. “Cassian was my grandfather; I hadn’t known him, he died before I was born. Still, if it’s not him she speaks about being in love with, it’s ‘Elio’; a Dornish man, her first love.”

“Some might say they are far greater than the one you marry.” He shrugged.

“She’s never told me his real name.” You leaned forward. “She said that he had to keep it secret from her for a long time, and he only told her after she got drunk, and he thought she wouldn’t remember.”

The two of you laughed lightly, and you kept going through your giggles. “He-he was only in King’s Landing for a year and went back to Sunspear. They would send ravens to each other, but then he stopped one day. She married my grandfather, had my mother, he died, and that was life.”

“And then there was you.”

You nodded, thinning your lips. “And then there was me.”

“You’ve talked about your mother, but you haven’t mentioned your father yet.”

Sighing, you rubbed your finger into the blanket you rested upon, looking away from him. “When my grandfather’s heart gave out, Gigi had to take on more work at the tailor’s and they still weren’t making enough for food. So…my mother took up working with Sylvi. She was fifteen, and Sylvi only let her cook and clean. When she was of age, she let her go to bed with the men for her coin. I could’ve walked past my father, and I wouldn’t be able to know.”

Aemond stared at her, nodding. “You’re a bastard.”

“It’s the one time I enjoy being smallfolk.” You shrugged. “I can just as easily lie and say my father died while married to my mother.”

“No one else knows?”

“Sylvi and Marija; the woman who gave us Winter Snow.” You scoffed. “Some old neighbors who’ve thankfully died, but I still remember their insults as I passed by them when I was just a child.”

He hummed, and you did not blame him for not saying anything after you. The two of you just existed in your childhood bedroom, the rain still beating against the roof, but not quite as hard this time.

“What were you like when you were a boy?” You questioned.

“Not like my brother or nephews.” He answered right away. “They…teased me a lot.”

“I’ve never had brothers or sisters, but aren’t they meant to?”

“Not like how they did.”

Oh…so it was bad. You wouldn’t ask him how horrible it was, knowing that there are some things no one would ever want to speak of.

“I’m sorry they did.”

He shook his head. “No need, it was years ago.”

“It was still wrong.”

Aemond didn’t say anything; didn’t even look at you. Then, for some reason…you felt compelled (maybe even okay) to tell him. “My mother she…died the same way my grandfather did.”

“His heart.”

“We-we think so. It’s strange though; she was so young, and just one night we were eating dinner, she stands to go tend to the fire…and she fell. It…it was as if her soul had been sucked away from her and all that was left was her body.”

“And you think you’ll die like her.”

Swallowing thickly, you had hoped he didn’t see right through you about that; but at the same time…how freeing it felt to be seen even in the most shameful and terrifying moments of life.

“She was the main provider for our house.” You went into more detail. “Gigi tried her best, but it wasn’t enough. My mother…Sylvi hasn’t told me everything she did to earn enough coin, and I don’t think I want to know. Many healers have said that people dying from a bad heart at such a young age is due to stress. I don’t know if they’re right, and even when I was one and ten, I did everything in my power not to feel so, but Gigi would wander around King’s Landing late at night, or we couldn’t afford food for days on end…”

You were vomiting all of your troubles onto him, it was disgusting; but, once you started, you couldn’t stop. The storm had picked up again, and from how the wind shook the walls of your room, you thought they would all crumble.

“Sylvi knew of us struggling, and she paid for our meals. I was to become an indentured servant to her, like how my mother was; cooking, cleaning, running odd errands…but she paid me in coin as well. I think-I think she thought I was going to follow in my mother’s footsteps when I was of age, but I refused. That’s when some of the girls and I came up with a way for me to make extra coin, and here we are.”

“She never let anyone younger than seventeen be a whore?”

For a moment, you pondered how that was the one thing he got from your nervous ramblings. Still, you decided it wasn’t best to think about it. “She didn’t want men bedding little girls.”

“I suppose it’s different for girls.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It was my thirteenth nameday when my brother brought me to Sylvi’s pleasure house.�� He said it as if it was common knowledge. “He said I needed to know everything there was about women. Your Madame certainly taught me well. It makes sense I suppose; girls are taught to be more ashamed about it.”

Even with the storm still going outside, the only sound you could hear was the beating of your own heart. “…What?”

You remembered what it was like when you were that age. Your body felt strange, you bled between your legs for the first time, you wanted a husband right away one moment, and then wanted to be a child forever the next. You were good at talking to men who were older than you…but…being intimate? No…and Sylvi had…Sylvi had-?

“Is something wrong?”

If you were delusional, you would say he seemed concerned. Still, if you were to tell him that what Sylvi had done was hypocritical and despicable of her, you would go red in the face with tears, and he would only spit on you and say you wouldn’t understand, and-.

“-Your hair.” You said, having been staring at it whilst your mind rushed. “Has…has it always been curly?”

Aemond scowled, not in scorn, but in puzzlement. It must’ve started to dry as he spent time in the house; it must’ve been frizzy and horrible as well. “Yes.”

You forced a smile. “And here I thought only the ladies of the night burned their hair since men favor it straight.”

“Mothers too.” He sighed when he saw the look you gave him. “It curled more by the time I was fourteen. She had the servants straighten it for me ever since; I believe she hates anything about me that is a reminder that she is my mother.”

“Aemond…”

“I don’t need your pity. I’ve been with her since I was born, it is nothing new and I have-.”

You don’t know why you reached forward and combed a strand of his hair between two of your fingers. Maybe it was because you were still tipsy, or maybe it’s because you just wanted to. He flinched upon your touch, and so did you.

“For-forgive me,” you backed farther up your bed. “I-I forgot myself and I-.”

He brought himself forward, taking both of your hands. Without looking at you, he brought both of them into his hair. Almost like it was second nature, you began to gently run your fingers over his scalp. He shut his eye, his hands traveling to drape along your waste, and he bent his head to rest upon your chest.

It was strange. Strange but nice. You were holding him, but just to have the illusion of you also being cared for…not even your grandmother had done something like this for years.

“I like your hair just how it is.” You whispered after a minute. “If it matters at all.”

He merely hummed, his hand travelling under your shirt. Your breath hitched when you felt his finger caress the skin above your wound. Your hands did not still, continuing to comb through his hair softly.

His finger traveled farther up, circling the swell of your breast. You made a noise you hadn’t made before, and you thought you sounded ridiculous. He hummed against your chest, and…

And…

Something between your legs felt like it was beating; like your heart, but it wasn’t that.

“I’m going to touch you there.” He mumbled against the fabric of your shirt. “Alright?”

No, no it wasn’t alright, but it was at the same time.

It wasn’t okay because you’ve only heard stories about this from the girls at the brothel, but it was okay because-because you liked him, and he was-

and you were-

and everything feels warm-

and the way he talked to you-

and the way you-!

“Get off!” You whispered once you heard just the lightest of footsteps outside your door. He listened, backing away quickly to the edge of the bed. An almost silent knock came from your door, and you smiled. “Come in!”

Gigi pushed herself in, holding a tray with two steaming mugs, setting it on the bed. “I’m so sorry, your grace. We do not have tea leaves, so is milk alright?”

Aemond nodded. “It is.”

“How have the both of you been?”

You wore a thin grin. “Fine.”

She nodded, looking in between the two of you. As if she knew what had just taken place, she gave a wry smile and turned to leave. “Well, the rain is dying down now. Let me know if you two need anything else.”

“Thank you, Gigi.” You said without another thought.

She didn’t shut the door when she left. You picked up the mug, took a sip and immediately felt your body heal just a little. Warm milk does numbers on a soul.

“I should take my leave now.” The prince stood up abruptly, dusting himself off.

You tried to stand. “I’ll walk you out.”

The wound at your side burned every inch you moved, and you did a horrible job concealing it. Aemond gently took your shoulders, pushing you back down.

“Rest.” He commanded. “You’re injured, and it’s late.”

“And when have you ever cared?” You teased

“Perhaps just now.” He matched your tone.

“Do you know what I hate?”

“Me? Life itself? Men?”

“Yes, to the last two.” You feel your chest constrict at what you would say next. “I hate that you told Sylvi you would spend time with me because you paid her for…other things previously.”

Aemond tilted his head to the side. “Is that so?”

She nodded. “You…you no longer have to pay for my company. You’ve seen me in turmoil, and I’ve seen you naked.”

He laughed…he laughed in a way you’d never heard him laugh before. “Is that what makes us allies?”

“Friends?” You reworded. “You understand the meaning, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” He scoffed.

“So…are we friends now?”

Friends who touch each other in ways they usually don’t.

A hint of a smile spread across his lips. He took your hand and kissed your knuckles. “Friends.”

You dropped your face, hopefully to avoid him seeing how you blushed. The damage was done though. Regaining yourself, you took a deep breath and looked at him.

“And…I’m aware I won’t be the first person you’ll seek if you’re in distress, but please know I will help if you need it.”

“Do not call yourself inadequate.” He shook his head. “I might have some use for you.”

You scoffed. “How considerate of you.”

“Rest now.” He repeated, turning to leave without a proper goodbye.

You sat up. “Wait!” Aemond did not turn to look at you, but he stopped. “Your eye. When you were walking me home, you were in pain. Does it still hurt?”

He was silent. For a moment, you thought it was to come up with a lie, then you assumed it was to find the words to tell you the truth…you had too much faith in him for either.

“It’s late.” He said your name softly and walked out of your bedroom. You heard the front door open then shut.

And there you were, on your bed, alone with an undrunk mug of milk.

The rain had completely stopped.

#aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #hotd season 2 #game of thrones #aemond x reader

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who-knew-a-sheep-can-write · 2 months ago

Text

Hotter Than Hell: Chris Redfield x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Pookie bear you know how to get me going >:)))

This is a little over 7k words :)

I have a problem

Contains: Aphrodisiac, vaginal licking, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, choking, breeding kink, creampies, dirty talk, degrading kink, size difference, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, spanking, pregnancy kink

The lab was mostly empty.

That should’ve tipped him off that there was something dangerously wrong here. It’s never this easy, and yet, things just seemed too good to be true.

A cold steam puffed out from his lips as his steely blue eyes tactically scanned the room he had entered. Finger on the trigger of his assault rifle, shoulders wound tight like a spring, teeth grit and lungs left half-empty in case he suddenly had to fire; Chris was ready. This was all too grating for him, the quiet pulling at the back of his mind. Something was going to go horribly wrong and he knows it- Hell, the rest of Hound Wolf knows it too. He could see it in all of their eyes, keeping their sights on the shadows a little too long, guns never lowered, steps light.

It’s never this easy.

The lab had been half-explored at this point. It was some makeshift lab made up in some long forgotten military bunker in the barren arctic wastelands of northern Sweden bordering Norway. There was nothing around for miles, only hills of snow and the threat of polar predators hiding in the blanket of shimmering white.

The power has long been cut off, lightswitches lead to just continuous darkness and the breakers did nothing when flipped. The place was freezing, too. The cold bit through their military gear, clinging to their bones, dragging at them to slow down. It was already below zero outside, making the stone and metal innards that much more unbearable. At least the wind wasn’t present in here or else they would have to get the hell out; And that was the absolute last thing Chris wanted to do.

The Swedish flags had all been snatched off of the walls, replaced with banners and metal hangings of Neo-Umbrella all about the lab. A layer of dust had settled over everything, not even boot prints had disturbed the dust since it had gathered. That didn’t mean they couldn’t be on edge. There’s been plenty of times where a place looks to be abandoned but a B.O.W. or two is actually lurking around deep inside.

They all entered the next room, flashlights and the barrels of all of their guns sweeping and quickly clearing the room. There was more in here than the last; Notably, some folders were haphazardly scattered around with papers loose on the counters and floors. Lobo and Umber Eyes gathered them up when Tundra busied herself by looking at a nearby cabinet seemingly filled with something. There were three other doors aside from the one they had all filed in from.

As Chris was about to start digging through the mess left behind, a series of robotic beeps rang softly in his ear. Chris stalled for a second, exhaling before inhaling deeply and raising his hand to click at his earpiece.

“Den to Hound Wolf. Do you copy?” you spoke gently through the earpiece.

Your voice was always welcomed in his ears. Ever since he had met you when you were transferred from the BSAA to Hound Wolf, he felt a connection with you. Despite the fact that you barely had any training under your belt, your encounter stuck to him, clung on, the thought of you just anchored to his mind. You were just Hound Wolf’s field operations support just as Hunnigan was for Leon Kennedy, but Chris felt like there was something else there with you. He wanted to know what that was.

“Copy that, Den,” he spoke clearly. “Alpha here. Over.”

“Have you had any luck with searching the bunker?”

“Negative. We’re still in the trenches here.”

It ate at Chris that they hadn’t been able to find anything yet.

“Copy that. Radio in if you find something, Alpha. Den, out.”

The line cut off quickly. Chris wouldn’t admit it, but deep down, he was a little disappointed that your call ended so quickly. He also wouldn’t admit that he was starting to feel something for you. He denied it fully at first, attempting to snuff out the embers before it started a wildfire, but no matter how hard he tried, it wouldn’t happen. Every time he would see you around the base, in the meetings sitting pretty in front of him, heard you over the comms line- it drove him more and more insane. Despite acting a bit cold to you at first, you had taken a warm liking to the captain and greeted him with a sweet smile every day that made his stomach do flips.

Chris swallowed thickly and returned his free hand back to his assault rifle, squeezing the metal hard enough for his gloves to creak before he too joined in the search around the room.

“Any luck?” he asked the team over his shoulder.

He had walked over to a rusted-out desk in the corner and searched the few papers that lingered. The ink was mostly faded, but from what Chris could make out, it was about redesigning the DNA sequences in hunters. As if that’s what he really needs to worry about right now.

“Just a bunch of empty vials,” Tundra called out from the cabinet, her hands rummaging through the small glass tubes with no luck on her side.

“Everything is either too worn out or the ink is smeared,” Lobo scoffed as he handed Chris the papers.

Chris sighed through his nose, another puff of cold steam rising. He just shook his head and Lobo dropped the papers to the counter.

“We need to split up. We’re taking too long and the cold is settling in,” Chris ordered. “Canine, Lobo; Take the door on the left. Umber Eyes, Night Howl; The right.” He turned his attention to Tundra as she dropped the vials and closed the cabinet doors. “Tundra, you’re with me.”

The rest of his squad split as Tundra followed close behind on Chris’ heels. Chris pushed at the door, grunting as he found it jammed at its rusted hinges only to reel his foot back and kick the door in. He honestly didn’t care if there were B.O.W.s down here right now. He just wanted to get out of here as fast as he could before one of them came down with hypothermia. Luckily, this was one of the rare instances that the helicopter actually stayed closed, parked right out of the abandoned bunker sitting idly.

As Chris and Tundra trekked down the hall, they both focused in on their surroundings. There were less of them now, making them more susceptible to danger. One foot in front of the other, they went down the very narrow hallway, flashlights beaming right on the other end at the other door. Upon opening the door, they both found it to be mostly barren save for a few knocked over chairs and some empty bookshelves. The next few rooms were no different, holding no value to them as they continued on.

It all seemed like lost hope when they came upon a bigger door that was way more secure. It was heavy to move it, Chris grunting as he pushed against it.

Upon opening the door, they were greeted with what looked to be some testing chamber. A large L-shaped desk full of buttons and screens and levers sat before a large and very thick window. On the side of the room sat a very secured door leading into the room. Walking up to the window, Chris shined his flashlight in, squinting past the glare to see multiple floor-to-ceiling columns. He wiped the dust off of the window and peered in again, catching the glints of glass making up those columns before realizing that they were all inhabited. He was right; There were B.O.W.s here. The status of them all being alive or dead was up for debate, but considering they were all left suspended in what looked to be suspicious liquid, he’d safely assume they’re all dead. He could only make out a few of them, one of which being an odd looking hunter with longer limbs and a nastier head. He’d hate to go against that thing.

Tundra sifted through more of the papers found in the filing cabinets, each drawer opening and closing with loud screeches.

“Any luck?” Chris asked once again over his shoulder.

He was trying to make out what the others were as Tundra quickly looked through each paper.

“They all look to be intact!” she exhaled a sigh of relief.

Chris broke his gaze away from the chamber to see Tundra handing him a few thickly filled folders. Peering at the labels on the side, the last one caught his eye. “Genetic Bio-Insemination.” He didn’t like the sound of that.

He started with the first folder.which was only about the newly engineered hunters this lab had produced. According to what he was able to skim through, though, the experiments were all failures as they had all mostly suffered from what appeared to be cardiac arrest. The longest one to live had only been six weeks before they had preserved it in one of those tubes for further testing. Chris felt unease in his stomach; If that was the new hunter at six weeks, what would one look like when it was fully matured?

The next was some experiments done with a new virus that had also failed. While testing on rodents apparently showed “positive” signs, human testing fell through, making it just about as bad as a case of the flu with some other side effects.

Chris had flipped to the last folder when his comm sparked to life in his ear.

“Night Howl to Alpha, come in,” Dion’s voice rang clear.

“Alpha here, over.”

Chris set the folders down and pressed a finger against his earpiece as static crackled a bit.

“We’ve found some samples left behind. We’re unable to deduce what they’re for, but they were all well hidden in a desk drawer.”

“We’ve also found something, captain,” Canine’s voice cut in. “Files and a few more samples here.” “Meet us here, we’ve found something as well. Alpha, out.”

“Wonder what those samples are,” Tundra wondered out loud as she started to stuff the folders into the duffle bag.

Chris was about to turn back around to face the chamber when he spotted something in the corner of the room. There was a metal table half rusted to death with a row of test tubes on top. Upon getting closer, some were found off of the rack and one had been opened, its contents spilled down onto the table and floor. An odd floral scent tickled his nose, nearly making him want to sneeze. The liquid had long since dried to a weird purple color. It looked sticky to the touch, but Chris knew better. Instead, he picked up one of the empty vials and brushed the dust off of the label.

‘Reactive Compound - B,’ it read.

He noticed that there would still be one missing test tube from the rack when the door opened to reveal the other four members of Hound Wolf, nearly startling both Chris and Tundra.

“Holy shit,” Lobo exhaled, immediately seeing the chamber full of dead B.O.W.s before him.

Both he and Umber Eyes walked up to the window and peered in, attempting to make out what’s in there just like Chris had done moments ago.

“What all did you find?” Chris cut off their thought processes.

Canine and Night Howl handed the samples and files to Tundra who quickly pocketed them.

“They’re some sick fucks, I can tell you that,” Night Howl muttered. “That office was full of pictures of test subjects in some disturbing poses.” He pulled out a hard drive from his pocket and also handed it to Tundra. “I don’t wanna know what all that fuck’s got on here, but we swiped it anyways.”

“We found where they were experimenting at, but most of it was destroyed already. We only got a few tubes of blood and some folders that just kept track of some of the experiments,” Charlie stated bluntly.

“We’ve been here long enough,” Chris stated plainly. “Radio the pilot and Den. We’ll finish up in here,” Chris nodded towards the door.

The four once again left Chris’ sight as Tundra stood up from where she was sitting. She had picked up the three folders Chris was just looking at, taking interest in the one he didn’t read. Chris had grabbed a few of the empty test tubes and turned around only to stop in his tracks upon hearing the crunching of glass.

Under his heavy boot, he had lifted it up to see the missing test tube now shattered on the floor. The dark liquid that had once been contained inside had started to glow in the dark to a bright violet. The scent of sickly sweet flowers rose to his nose again as a light smoke trailed up from the spill. Chris covered his mouth with his gloved hand as he started to cough uncontrollably, a sudden pull tugged at his entire body as he was exposed to the fumes.

“Captain!” Tundra exclaimed.

Chris held out a hand to halt her in her place as he stumbled away from the shattered vial. He caught himself on the console and sank into one of the long abandoned chairs, trying to catch his breath. He felt like he had swallowed a burning cigarette. His lungs felt like they had been lit on fire as an uncomfortable sweat made him feel sticky all over. The cold suddenly wasn’t a bother to him anymore.

He didn’t hear Tundra radio the rest of the squad to come back, only noticing them when both Umber Eyes and Night Howl took one of each of Chris’ arms and slung them over their shoulders, essentially dragging the captain out of the bunker as quickly as they could.

Chris grit his teeth as it felt like his clothing was suddenly too tight and way too warm for his liking. It felt like he couldn’t breathe as sweat beaded at his hairline. An odd feeling started to twirl in his stomach, making his abs seize and his back clench. He snatched onto their shoulders, fingernails sinking into the thick material of his gloves as he was suddenly brought outside. He barely registered the quick smacking of the helicopter’s blades speeding up, only focusing on the way the arctic air made his skin feel.

They settled Chris into the cabin of the helicopter before slamming the doors shut. As some of them pawed at Chris to hold him down or take his vitals, he overheard Lobo get on the comms.

“Den, this Lobo! Alpha’s down, requesting emergent medical standby on base. ETA is two hours.”

He could barely make out the rest of what everyone else was saying over the rising beat of his heart in his ears or the way his temples pounded against his skull. His vision swayed and he only got warmer and warmer, a sudden pull at his eyes made the squad freak out and try to shake him awake. They tried calling his name, but all he could hear was your voice crying it out instead just as his world went dark.

It was radio silent since the call from Lobo cut out. You couldn’t reach any of them, not even the pilot. Instead, you kept your eyes firmly planted on the helicopter’s location firmly moving closer and closer to base. You counted down the miles in your head from hundreds to dozens to the single digits. You had radioed medical already, no doubt they were already waiting with a gurney and a crash cart for the captain as soon as they landed.

And then the horrifying idea struck:

They would radio it in if he passed, right?

Just the thought made you horribly nauseous and antsy, barely able to sit in your seat for long. When the helicopter was two miles from the base, you couldn’t help yourself and got up from your desk, abandoning your post as you rushed to the landing. By the time you got up there, you could hear the distant blades turning and see the lights through the night fog steadily getting closer and closer before it was right above you all. As soon as the cabin was steady and landed, medical staff peeled open the doors to the helicopter and transferred the captain onto the gurney.

The sight of him made your world stand still for a moment.

A respirator clinging to his nose and mouth, skin stained with sweat, his bulletproof vest had been pulled off and his jacket had been opened to make room for the heart monitors to be attached to his chest. He looked to be a sickly pale and he was breathing so heavily, weakly struggling against all that touched him as he was wheeled away.

As the rest of Hound Wolf watched on, they couldn’t help but notice you. They weren’t dumb, of course. They knew of the little spark you and the captain had. They constantly made jokes to the captain about you and how he should grow some balls already. They had seen the way you and Chris stare at each other, the way Chris goes out of his way to personally bring you reports instead of emailing them or having someone else bring you them, how he always eagerly answers the comms when it’s you talking on the other end. You both had been pining for each other since you joined them a few months back.

It was Tundra that broke you out of your trance as you watched the medical team wheel Chris through the emergency doors that lead right to the medical bay. She placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, unmasked, she gave you a reassuring smile.

“He’ll be okay. This is Chris Redfield we’re talking about,” her words were soft.

“Yeah, he’s too stubborn to die,” Canine piped up.

That earned him a swift elbow to the ribs from Umber Eyes and a pointed look from the others.

“What happened?”

You finally turned your attention to the others, eyebrows pinched in worry. You were starting to feel a little sick to your stomach.

“We found samples in some testing chamber and he stepped on one without realizing it,” Tundra explained. She dug in her pocket before pulling out two empty vials and handed them to you. “They’re the same as the one he stepped on: Reactive Compound - B. According to the files, it was used solely on the B.O.W.s they were breeding down there, but it was proven ineffective.”

Breeding? Did she say breeding?

A flush came to your cheeks as you stared back at her with wide eyes. There was no fucking way.

“Breeding?”

“Yes,” she hesitated. “It’s… an aphrodisiac.”

Chris Redfield had been essentially drugged with an aphrodisiac and is now suffering from it.

You honestly didn’t know what to say. You’ve heard of these kinds of things happening before, but you never thought you’d actually see it happen.

“Luckily, it was just the vapors of it, so it shouldn’t last long,” Night Howl offered.

You only nodded before looking back to the doors of the med bay. You knew there was no way in hell you’d be able to see him now let alone possibly later. They’d quarantine him, keep him under strict watch.

Tundra rubbed your shoulder before guiding you back inside.

Hours melted by slowly. You could barely keep yourself calm as you worried your bottom lip relentlessly. Your knee wouldn’t stop bouncing as you sat at your desk, fiddling with your thumbs, busying yourself with reports and filing whatever you could away. It all became too much for you, you couldn’t continue to sit here while Chris was alone in some room being watched like an experiment. You got up from your desk, your rolling chair nearly knocking over as you quickly marched out of your office and towards the medical bay.

As you walked, nearly jogged, you couldn’t help but wonder what you would say to get in. You really didn’t have any pull and they surely wouldn’t take anything Chris would say as an order in his state. You just kept walking, adamant on seeing him at the very least. He was probably so confused if he had woken.

As you trekked through the halls, you passed by the dark hallway that led to both Chris’ office and his room only to be snatched up by the back of your blazer jacket and shoved into the hard wall.

You gasped and cried out in shock, the air leaving your lungs quickly. Before you could make any more noise, a large scarred hand reached up and covered your mouth, muffling your cries. Your eyes were wide in shock and fright as whoever it was pressed their entire body against yours, allowing you to feel everything. You could barely make out any details in the dark, but you quickly spotted a glint of light in a pair of steely blue eyes. You quickly stopped struggling against the large hands pinning you in place, allowing him to loosen his grip on your face and shoulder.

“Chris?” you whispered.

You could now tell just from the scent alone that it was him, the faint smell of his cologne acting as a dead giveaway to you. The hand that was once on your mouth and nose came up to claw at the wall next to your head, in the low lighting you could barely make out his muscles shimmering with sweat and bulging. The other hand was still connected to you, fisting the material of your blazer, keeping you pinned up against the wall. He was panting like he had ran an entire marathon, chest heaving, shoulders squared. You also quickly realized the thing poking at your lower belly through the thick cargo pants he was wearing, a horrible blush settling over your cheeks. He loomed over you, casting you in darkness with how big he was compared to you.

How did he get out?

Surely they wouldn’t have just let him out, especially after what he had been afflicted with.

“C-Chris, I- Are you feeling oka- Mmm!”

He cut you off by nearly smashing his lips with yours, swallowing your gasp this time as he really pressed himself up against you. There were no minute gaps between you both, you could really feel everything. The hand that was snatching at your blazer quickly moved to the back of your head, locking his fingers in your hair, practically forcing you to stay locked in his fiery kiss. He was so riled up, kissing you passionately as though he would never see you again, nipping at your lower lip to get you to open up. When you didn’t at first, he sank his teeth in, pulling a whimper from you. Taking the opening he created, his tongue invaded the cavity of your mouth, exploring it with vigor as his tongue swirled around with yours. You ended up snatching him by his shirt, twisting your fingers in the slightly damp material and drawing him even closer.

God, the heat that radiated off of him was immense. You could feel his balmy sweat through his thin t-shirt.

The hand that was clawing at the wall snatched at your lower back, fisting the stiff material and forced your core up against his tented erection. You gasped and tried to pull back, cunt clenching as your pulse raised. When you tried to pull away, he snarled like an animal and deepened the kiss, teeth nearly clacking against one another. You could feel how big he was, how thick he was. You didn’t doubt that he would be big down there, but this? Fuck, you could feel it twitching too.

He suddenly pulled away, graciously allowing you to gulp down oxygen and lean into his touch. The glint in his eyes had darkened, the steely blue nearly swallowed by the pitch blackness of his pupils. You could see the gears turning, you saw something lingering in his eyes. Was it restraint? Was he fighting back against this? He was honestly fighting a losing battle as the sweat kept darkening his t-shirt and his dick just got harder.

And just then, you saw his eyes soften from their rabid gaze. Pupils shrank a bit, his breathing calmed for just a few pregnant seconds.

“Tell me you want this,” he begged softly. “Please.”

You nodded, not able to find your breath for a moment.

“I want this,” your voice was so light it was barely audible.

But he heard it. You could see his pupils start to dilate once again, nearly covering those beautiful blues when he grabbed you once again. You were expecting another steamy kiss but gasped out loud when he easily tossed you up and onto his broad shoulder. At the sound of you gasping and choking a bit when his brawn dug into your ribs, he clapped a big hand over your ass to shut you up. He dragged you down the hallway and kicked the door to his room open, the door slammed behind him from the force. Your hands scrambled to hold onto him only to have your body soar as he dropped you onto the bed unceremoniously. You landed with a gasp, bouncing on the firm mattress and rumpled sheets. The light by his bedside automatically turned on upon sensing your presence, revealing just how sex-crazed Chris had really become.

He was staring down at you like a predator, lips parted as he panted, he held an animalistic gaze. The gray t-shirt he wore hugged all of his muscles deliciously, sweat darkening around his pecs and down his abs, highlighting all of that brawn. His black cargo pants were held on by a belt wrapped tightly around his waist, but the star of the show was that erection straining underneath.

You could smell the sex in the air, and a brief glance away from him showed a trashcan full of used tissues. Had they just holed him up in his room to let him masturbate it all out? If so, that clearly hadn’t worked.

Chris snatched your attention back to him when he grabbed at your pants and roughly pulled them off of your person. You weren’t expecting it, scooting away from him like he had shocked you. Your dress pants were tossed over his shoulder carelessly, pooling by the door. His eyes zeroed in on your panties; Black, solid with a bit of lace around the waistband. Your button-up had ridden up a bit on your belly and your blazer had been forced open by him snatching at you just moments ago, the button in the middle missing entirely. He could spy with those eagle eyes of his, the dark wet spot slowly growing between your legs, hugging that pussy that was all his.

Feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze, you drew your legs closer to your body, closing your legs in the process as you dragged your short heels up on the bed. Chris had snatched your ankles suddenly, roughly tugging your legs apart, your heels knocking off of your feet by the force of it.

“Chris!” you gasped.

Should you be afraid of him? This isn’t how you thought your first time with the captain would go. You always thought it would be more romantic, not with his being all sex-crazed and about to fuck you like an animal.

“Don’t hide yourself from me,” he growled. He roughly tugged you until your ass was barely off of the mattress. He kept your ankles in a vice-like grip as he forced your legs open. He knelt down to where you could feel his breath on your clothed pussy. You whimpered pathetically as his nose barely brushed you down there, then his lips. He snagged the crotch of your panties in his sharp teeth before playfully pulling them a bit before letting them go. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you,” he groaned. “How long I’ve wanted to fucking ruin you.”

“Chris~”

He suddenly snagged your panties and tore them for your person, tossing the wet scraps over his shoulder to join your pants and shoes. He dove right in, nose dividing your folds before his tongue greedily drank from your. Pressing his tongue flat, he dragged it up your kitty, fully tasting you as something sparked to life inside of you. You cried, tilting your head back as you snatched at whatever you could get your hands on. One sank into his black comforter while the other snagged his short hair, nails digging into his scalp. He growled against your pussy, deliciously vibrating it as he drank from you, licking up your sweet juices as they came out of you. He ate you out like a man starved, like a man possessed. Roughly, he fucked you with his tongue, dragging the tip in and our of your cunt, lapping at you like he was a dog. He kept your legs over his shoulders, hands snatching at your waist to bring you in even closer to that mouth of his. You locked your knees to his head, not allowing him to go anywhere. Your mouth was hung open as you openly moaned and cried, praising the captain as he ate you out.

“Right there! AH~ Chris! Right there,” you whined.

Chris hunched in on himself, getting up a bit, forcing your ass to lift off of the edge a bit so he could fuck you deeper with his tongue. The friction was so delicious you could get drunk off of it. Every tug on his hair had him snarling, pushing his face deeper into your folds. You gasped when his teeth dragged at your mound, sending little sparks down your legs and right back up into your blazing hot core.

You could feel it tightening. Like a rubber band being slowly stretched out, becoming taut, ready to snap. He was gonna make you cum just from that tongue of his alone. He looked up from your cunt, over your belly and clothed breasts. The look in his crazed eyes so desperate for you sent you over the edge. You squeezed your eyes shut as you came into his mouth, your mouth falling open as you let out a lewd moan.

You were glad that Chris’ room was away from the others.

He lapped at your orgasm as if it were a gift from the gods themselves, greedily drinking from you until your cunt was clean save for the bit starting to dribble out from the clenching pussy. He stood suddenly, pushing you back until you were now in the middle of the bed. He quickly stripped his t-shirt off, revealing to you the expanse of his muscles. You couldn’t help but nearly drool at them. For someone of Chris’ age, he really didn’t know the meaning of slowing down. His muscles rippled, highlighted with glistening sweat from the lamplight. His abs clenched and flexed, his broad chest heaved with every gulp of fresh air. His lips and beard glistened with the remnants of your orgasm. The next to go was his belt and pants. He pulled his belt off so fast the leather snapped against his hand but he remained unflinching. He dropped his cargo pants and kicked off his combat boots without care, leaving him in only his poor, straightening gray boxers. There was a wet spot where precum was leaking, slowly growing just as you had done in your panties. His erection tented more against the freeing fabric, no longer constrained by the tight pants. Chris dropped them too, practically snatching them off like they had offended him and tossed the poor pair to the floor.

Your eyes widened at the size of him. There’s no way that could fit inside of you. He was long and thick, and his head was red and a bit swollen. A trail of milky white cum ran down his shaft, trailing along a thick vein that ran along the underside. His balls looked full and heavy too, ready to dump his seed right into your waiting womb and breed you. Your mouth was watering at the sight, but something told you that you wouldn’t be tasting that dick tonight.

Chris wrapped one of his large hands around his dick and pumped his cock a few times, smearing his precum around his head and giving it a bit of a squeeze.

You couldn’t stand your clothes being on you anymore, breaking eye contact to fumble with the buttons of your button-up when Chris pounced on you. You had only managed to pull off your blazer and undo the top half of your buttons when he pulled the damned piece of clothing from your body, buttons flying across his room. You meant to scold him when he shut you up with a hand grabbing at your throat. You choked a bit, eyes wide as he forced you back down onto the bed. He rut his cock against your trembling cunt, smearing his precum and your orgasm around, readying you for him as his other hand grabbed at your breasts through your bra. He pulled your left breast from its cup and sucked at your nipple, worrying your rosebud with his teeth and making you cry out as best as you could.

Your head started to swim a bit from the lack of oxygen when he suddenly entered you, splitting you wide open. He let go of your throat and allowed you to basically scream, your nails suddenly biting into his broad shoulders. He groaned loudly, removing his head from your breast only to bury it in the crook of your neck. He slowly sank into you inch by inch, loving the way your sensitive velvet walls stretched and squeezed to accommodate his girth. He openly moaned against your neck, rutting into you like an animal until he filled you entirely. The head of his dick pressed against your cervix snugly, allowing no more of him to fit inside of you. He started slow with his thrusts, trying to get used to how tight you were wrapped around his big dick. Every thrust had you rocking against the bed, utterly at Chris’ mercy.

He started to speed up quickly, forcing a loud whimper from your lips as your poor pussy ached and cried. He couldn’t quite adjust to your cunt squeezing him, moaning loudly as his proud shoulders faltered. His hips started to snap back and forth at a faster pace, nearly ramming into you, dragging his thick head right into that special little bundle of nerves inside of you perfectly.

Chris went back to busying his mouth with your exposed breast. His left hand fisted the sheets beside your head while the other cupped at your face a little roughly, forcing your head to be tilted into the sheets and he lapped at your plump breast. He growled into you, sinking his teeth into your breast as he thrusted deeper into you. You let out a strangled cry, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you felt another burning sensation right at your core. It was as though your core was dripping with molten iron, ready to forge something big and brazen.

“Chris! I can’t- I’m gonna-”

He cut you off again with another harsh choke, his right hand wrapping around your little neck and squeezing just right to cut off most of your oxygen supply. He felt your pussy twitch and shudder around him. He was going to milk every single one of your orgasms tonight, ride them out, and breed you like the little whore you are.

You came with a choke, veins bulging in your neck as your larynx desperately bobbed. Your lips felt tingly as Chris unlatched his mouth from your breast to steal another kiss from you. He swallowed your cries, licked at the tears that streaked down your cheeks, nipped at what was exposed of your neck. He snarled against your sweaty skin as you came around his dick, biting deeply into the muscle of your shoulder forcing a strangled cry from you once more.

He unwrapped his hand from your throat again, driving himself nearly balls deep inside of you as he licked upwards from your breast to under your jaw.

“Who’s are you?” he snarled in your ear.

“Y-Yours!” you whimpered back quickly.

Your head was swimming, vision hazy and body feeling as though your nerves were made up of static.

You suddenly found yourself empty, whining at his missing cock until he suddenly flipped you over onto your stomach. You gasped, clutching at the sheets as Chris’ hands suddenly seized at your hips and forced your ass up. You weakly grabbed at the bed, unable to prop yourself up on your elbows.

Chris delivered a hard smack across your asscheeks, however. The spank resonated through the room and had you howling like a bitch in heat. He reached down and snagged a hand in your hair once again, pulling your head up just enough for a bit of pain to shoot down your spine right into your leaking cunt. You openly cried and whimpered, knees shaking and your ass throbbing.

“Wrong answer!” he snarled through clenched teeth. “I asked who you belong to.”

“Y-You! Chris! I belong to y-you!”

He delivered another harsh spank against your behind. You howled in pain and ecstasy again, attempting to bury your head in the rumpled sheets now covered in sweat but the hand locked in your hair didn’t allow for that.

“Wrong again, angel.” The use of the pet name made your cunt clench on air. “Who’s bitch are you? Who do you belong to?”

“You! A-Alpha! You!” you moaned like it was a prayer. “I belong to you, Alpha!”

Upon hearing those words, Chris sheathed himself back into you, going as deep as he could before your cervix blocked him off. He openly groaned, mouth hanging open as he groaned and cursed. He settled his hips back into the same motion, snapping back and forth, fucking you senseless, keeping your ass and hips suspended in the air like the submissive bitch you are. His heavy balls smacked against your ass that was still throbbing from his spankings, he had finally relinquished his hold on your hair to grab at your hips with both hands. His nails bit into your soft skin, he openly praised you, pressed kisses up along your spine.

“You’re mine, you hear that?” he snarled in your ear once again. “Your cunt, your womb, you’re all mine.” He nipped at your earlobe and nosed your hair. You could barely hear him over your own heart beating so quickly against your skin. Chris lapped at the back of your neck, nosing your hair off to one side and he bit into your pulse point. “I’m gonna fill you up and you’re gonna take every last drop, you hear me?” His voice was dangerously low. His fingers snagged your hair again as his other gave you a firm spank when you didn’t respond fast enough. He smirked darkly at your short cry. “I’m gonna fill that tight little womb of yours up so well you’ll be bred well and good by the end of the night. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Yes!” you moaned like a whore.

“Moaning like a slut,” he snapped, spanking you again. He loved how you jumped when his large hand connected with the fine curve of your ass. “You’re my slut, aren’t you? You’re gonna be my knocked up slut after tonight, you know that?” Hearing his words made your cunt gush and throb and tighten. Your womb never felt so ready to be filled. “I’m gonna fuck you over and over and over until I know you’re well and bred like the bitch in heat you are.”

“A-Alpha-”

He spanked you again, enjoying your cries. Fresh tears fell from your eyes and the sheets greedily absorbed them as they fell.

“I can’t wait to get you pregnant.” The hand that was in your hand trailed down to your belly and lovingly stroked it. “Wouldn’t you like that? Being all swollen and fat with my kid? Letting everyone here know that I bred you like a whore? Just the thought of it- Ah, fuck!” Chris hissed as you felt him twitch cautiously inside of you.. His thrusts faltered a bit, growing sloppy as he continued to pile drive near balls deep inside of you. He reached his hand down to your dripping cunt and rubbed you vigorously for a moment, coaxing you to climax quickly. “I’m not stopping until it takes.”

“Alpha, p-please! I need it! I need you!”

Chris was losing himself. He teetered on the edge of release, attempting to draw it out just a bit more. Your sudden climax nearly made him spill into your waiting womb, your walls convulsing around him as he withdrew his fingers. He brought them up to taste you, all sweet and savory with a bit of his salty cum to mix. It tasted like heaven. He brought his hand down to your back, fingers snapping your bra behind your back. He could just imagine you all pregnant and pretty like a picture, tummy all big and swollen, breasts heavy with milk he’d want to try.

“You’re mine! You’re my submissive little cumdump! Do you hear me?”

“Yours! All yours!” you mewled weakly.

Chris found himself cumming inside of you. Abs tensing, back aching and seizing, his cock pumped his hot and milky seed deep inside of you. He came with a roar, head thrown back as he buried himself as deep as he could go. It felt like a massive pressure valve had been opened inside of him, allowing him to flood your womb all full and tight of his seed. You groaned, eyes fluttering and rolling back a bit at how full you really felt. Your cunt squeezed at him, milking him for everything he could give you.

After what felt like hours but really were just minutes, you felt Chris pull out of you. Expecting him to be calm, you relaxed your body and took deep breaths only to get a rude awakening. Chris had flipped you over onto your back once more and dragged your ass back over the edge. Before you could protest, Chris had snagged your ankles and brought them up close to your head, spreading your wide and forcing your knees against your chest. You moaned, tears streaming down your cheeks at the stretch as he folded you into a mating press. There was a dark and very hungry look in Chris’ eyes and you noticed he was still hard as a rock.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I’m gonna breed you all night, angel.”

His dick plunged back into your weeping cunt, causing you to only see white.

#chris x reader #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield #resident evil #re

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