#wouldn’t want her to catch a cold

[labannori]

Cool coat

[luxurybrownbarbie]

One more take because I’m in the office for another two hours and bored.

Henry Charles Albert David. He knew exactly what he was bringing this woman into. I get it. He found someone who is, by all accounts, his perfect match, worth building with, and he didn’t want to chase her away with the realities of The Firm. But my god… he needed to say something to prep her. He threw his wife to the wolves, assuming she would be okay, and it nearly killed her. Who. Else. Did. That. Henry. I’m glad he has enough sense to protect her now that they’re locked in.

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: Everyone at HQ was convinced there was something going on between you and Miguel. Just...no one knew what. But one group of spiders were determined to figure it out.

Warnings: None! Just a lot of goofiness and a whole lot of fluff :3

When you have a superhuman with superior senses, they’re bound to be perceptive to their surroundings. Now when you have an entire lobby the size of multiple football fields filled with superhumans with superior senses, very few things will go unnoticed.

It’s why people very quickly realize that you and Miguel have…something between the two of you. It’s just that no one is quite sure what.

Camaraderie? Maybe, you were one of the first spiders to join the society.

Friendship? Perhaps, but it was known that Miguel wasn’t one to do friends. Not with the amount of loss he has gone through.

A relationship? This one seemed the most unplausible. Miguel was, well, Miguel. Stoick, cold and calculating. Meanwhile, you were you.

You had a light that drew people in, kindness that knew no bounds and warmth like a fire on a cold winter’s day.

Everyone knew the saying ‘opposites attract’, but it was like comparing night and day with the two of you. Regardless, a small little group within the society were set on trying to figure the two of you out.

~

“Ain’t no way the two are together, she’s too good for him!” Hobie argues, his legs kicked up on the table in front of him.

“I don’t know, maybe that’s why they work together. Because she makes him better?” Miles says, but his tone of voice failed to hide his skepticism.

“I think you should just leave the two of them be. Besides, what happens if you figure it out or not anyway?” Peter says, feeding Mayday as he does. Immediately a chorus of arguments breaks out from the group.

“OKAY! Okay, forget I asked,” he says with a shake of his head, while Mayday just laughs at the commotion.

They spot the two of you walking into the cafeteria making conversation none of them could make out.

“Look at them,” Gwen says, “have you ever seen the guy happier than he is with her?” she asks, and Hobie snorts.

“C’mon mate, you call that happy? Mans got that frown tattooed on his face, can he even be happy?” he says, but they all continue watching intently.

You glance over to the table they were surrounding, and they all brush off your gaze pretending as though they weren’t just studying the two of you like specimens under a microscope.

You wave your hand, a bright smile on your face while Miguel only glances over for a moment before continuing to walk. You jog to catch up to him, grabbing a tray and picking up things you wanted for lunch.

They watch as they see Miguel pick up the empanada, the last one left. He pauses for a split second, holding it before turning to place it on your tray. Almost as though they were straight out of a cartoon, they freeze at the interaction.

You seem to be slightly surprised as you, saying something to him but he only brushes you off before continuing on.

“Did…that just happen?” Pavitr asks. Everyone at HQ was aware of Miguel’s fondness for the food (even if he did hurl one right at Miles when they first met), there was no way he would give one away so easily for just anyone, right?

“Somebody pinch me,” Gwen says, and Hobie jumps at the request.

“OW!”

~

Miguel never lets anyone help him out when he’s injured. That was just a known fact. He could walk into HQ battered and bruised and wouldn’t even look in the infirmary’s direction once. After depending on himself for so long, he wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, what were First Aid kits for after all?

The only way he was going to the infirmary was if someone dragged his unconscious body there themselves.

Well, unless you were there.

“Miguel O’Hara I swear to god, you better get your ass to the infirmary or so help me I will tie you up and drag you through the halls myself,” you say sternly as you both reemerge in the Lobby. The rest of the Spiders there continued with what they were doing, but their attention was zeroed in on you both.

“I’m fine,” he says, glaring at you as if trying to say ‘Just try’. Had you been anyone else, you would have backed down by now but you didn’t.

“You wanna test me right now? That was a nasty hit, I will not be letting it get infected under my watch,” you retort, and he puffs.

“This is nothing, I’ve dealt with worse,” he scoffs, and in an instant your finger shoots out, making contact with the side that got hit with the anomaly’s flames. Miguel can’t help the sharp intake of breath as the pain from the impact hits him.

Your eyebrow raises, an expression of disbelief on your face before it softens. Murmuring softly, you say something that only he can hear.

For a moment he studies your face before sighing, finally relenting. With a triumphant smile, you place a hand on the man’s broad back, leading him towards the infirmary with a gentle but firm hand.

There, Pavitr is laying in bed recovering from an awry mission of his own. The doctors had ordered bedrest for the next 2 hours at least. Superior healing or not, they were not going to risk it. So there he lay, slinging his golden bangles up and down bored before he hears the two of you come in.

“Mr. O’Hara-" a doctor’s voice can be heard, but he is quickly interrupted.

“She’s got it from here,” he says, Miguel’s tone final. A small “yes, sir” can be heard before footsteps fade away, the doctor’s office door closing once more.

“You know, you should really let the professionals help you,” your voice can be heard.

“You dragged me here, you can deal with the consequences,” he says, and you just laugh fondly before your voices quieten, murmuring too quietly for Pavitr to hear.

Curiosity builds as he recalls the conversation he and his friends had, and before he can stop himself he shifts silently to the side, just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of you both from the small gap between the hospital curtain and the wall.

There, Miguel sat on the bed, a disgruntled expression on his face but his eyes were soft as he watched you fuss over his side.

He only watches for a few seconds before pulling away, this being a clear invasion of privacy, and his boss’ privacy no less.

It wasn’t going to stop him from telling everyone else though.

~

“This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea,” Miles says, grasping onto the ceiling like his life depended on it.

“It’s only a bad idea if we get caught, so Shut. Up,” Gwen says sharply, hanging from her place on the ceiling as they watched the fight from above.

Gwen had come up with the mighty fine idea of sneaking into a mission between the two of you. It wasn’t often that it happened, Miguel more often than not only went on missions with only Lyla by his side. But when he needed a partner, it was always you.

“Why did you have to bring me with you,” he whispers, “Miguel already doesn’t like me. He doesn’t need more of a reason to.”

“Because I needed backup and you can turn invisible. And let’s be real, Hobie would be laughing his ass off getting us caught, Peter would bring Mayday which would get us caught, and Pavitr is already on a mission, now shhh,” she whispers, turning back to watching the scene below.

You swung from pillar to pillar in the abandoned factory with practiced ease, a carefree laugh escaping your lips as Miguel stands on the ground fiddling with his watch.

“The anomaly’s last known location was here,” Lyla’s voice echoes out, and you let out a sigh.

“Why can’t villains have easy powers. Maybe a giant blob that is easy to take down? Why do they have to be so complicated? What’s this one again, a freaky shadow monster?” you think out loud.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Miguel retorts, glancing up toward you for a moment before turning back to Lyla. “Do a scan of the place, will you?”

“What do we say~” Lyla responds, and you giggle softly while Miguel huffs.

“Please,” he mutters.

“What was that?”

“Please, Lyla,” he says a little louder now, irritation growing in his voice.

“Already done,” the AI snickers, and he groans out loud as your laughter bounces off of the walls, a fist held out for Lyla to bump.

“The two of you will be the death of me,” he says lowly.

“Oh, don’t be like that, grumps. You’d be too stubborn to die,” you retort before tensing up, the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the familiar feeling of your heightened senses at work. The moment you sling yourself up is the moment a loud thud sounds out from where you once stood.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that the anomaly was in the far right corner,” Lyla says before disappearing.

“I really need to do a rewrite of her code,” Miguel mutters to himself.

In your previous spot emerges a dark figure, plumes of smoke emerging and dissipating from its form and allowing it to disappear into the shadows with ease.

With a simple nod, you get to work. Like a well-oiled machine, you work in practiced synchrony, bounding across the walls and slinging webs.

And just like that the anomaly is captured, the force field around it effectively trapping it for the ride back to HQ so it can be sent back to its own universe.

“That was…kinda lame,” you snicker, pulling off your mask

“Told you so,” Miguel says as he opens up a portal for you both, dragging the anomaly behind him.

“Don’t say that to me,” you pout.

“What, can’t handle the truth?” he retorts, a smirk playing across his lips as your bickering voices fade through the portal.

“…was that a smile,” Gwen asks as she watches the spot where they both had stood.

“Was that what it was?” Miles asks, a shudder racking through his body.

~

It was late at night at the HQ, and at this time everyone else had already gone back to their own universes. The few that lingered were the ones finishing up after a late-night mission.

Or, you were Peter B. Parker frantically searching through the kitchen for a bottle of milk for Mayday after a playdate with a select few spiders that went on for way longer than expected.

Mayday was an easy baby. Always happy and smiling, but that all disappears when she was hungry and you did not want a spider baby on a rampage.

“Alright, alright, give Daddy a few seconds to warm up your milk please?” Peter pleads as Mayday continues to babble angrily, crawling all over him.

She pauses for a moment, attention drawn elsewhere as she hangs off of her father’s back before leaping.

“Hey, lil spider!” You say with a laugh, catching her in your arms. “What are you doing here so late?” you ask.

“Playdate with Miles, Gwen and Hobie. Time really flew and she refused to leave until now,” Peter sighs tiredly, and you pat him on the back before putting her up onto your shoulders. “What are you doing here so late?”

You shrug, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“Working late. Like you said, time really flew,” you say, but Peter knew that wasn’t the full truth.

“Working so hard that you need two cups of coffee?” he asks, holding out the bottle for Mayday to take, which is what she does happily as she snuggles up in her father’s arms.

“What can I say, caffeine doesn’t really work on me,” you grin, pouring the coffee from the machine. “Goodnight, Peter, Mayday,” you say, ruffling her red hair fondly.

And as quickly as you appeared, you disappear.

~

People didn’t often disturb the big boss man Miguel when he was working. Not if you wanted to stay on his good side.

It was even less often that someone barges into his room full of screens as he monitors the Archno-Humanoid Polymultiverse, let alone a group of them.

“We heard you talking to someone! And laughing,” Gwen says hesitantly as if she couldn’t even believe it herself. But she was invested in figuring out what the deal was between the two of you now.

“Well, do you see anyone around?” Miguel deadpans, his arms wide and gesturing around broadly. You could barely stifle the giggle as you sat on a beam high up on the ceiling, going unnoticed.

“W-well, no…But!” she says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow which makes Gwen shrink in her spot slightly before recovering. “But we heard you. There was someone here, wasn’t there?”

Hobie, ever the perceptive one tracks his eyes along the ceiling before spotting you swinging your legs with an amused look on your face. It seemed as though no one else had noticed though.

Miguel watches Hobie spot you and his eyes narrow in his direction, as if saying ‘I dare you to say anything’ to which the spider only raises his hands in mock surrender.

“No. There wasn't." He says, his tone final. "If that’s all you’re here for, I have important work to get to. So why don’t you go bother someone else, yeah?”

~

“I give up,” Gwen says, slumping in her chair. “We’re never going to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Jess asks, walking up to the group.

“Whether or not there is something going on between those two,” Miles says, nodding towards you and Miguel talking over in the corner of the room.

Jessica only hums, a knowing look in her eyes but she doesn’t say anything. Only asks a simple question.

“What makes you think so?”

“Everyone here knows that there’s something there, even if they want to admit it or not. She’s one of the few people he tolerates, they’re together almost all the time and he actually seems happy around her,” Gwen reasons.

“You could have just asked, you know,” you say, coming up on their conversation with an amused look on your face.

Their expressions range from flustered to simply amused and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up as you make eye contact with Jess.

“And to answer the question,” you reach down your suit, pulling out a simple chain with a ring dangling off of the end.

“We’re actually married.”

The group goes silent for a moment, eyes wide as they stare at the necklace in your hands, trying to process your words.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

A/N: Hehe, I'm quite happy with this one :3 This is my first attempt at writing Miguel, sorry if I butchered him but I am absolutely hyperfixating on him after seeing ATSV in theatres yesterday.

Based on the prompt by @imslightlycreative though slightly changed :)) I hope you all enjoyed <3

Part two out now!! Read it here.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: yandere, noncon/dubcon, angst, unwanted pregnancy, blackmail, ish-baby trapping

PART ONE only avaliable on AO3 due to Tumblr restrictions

fem reader

You went cold and forgot how to breathe.

When you got to the kindergarten, they told you his father had already come and collected him early. All looking at you as though you were crazy, assaulting the daycare workers with your hands in a bruising grip, shaking her by her shoulders—demanding she tell you where he took him. 

She spilled the name of some family restaurant down the road and said he’d wanted you to join them there. The poor thing was on the verge of tears when you let go.

Rushing out, you all but ran down the streets before pushing yourself through the doors—cold-sweating and swivel-eyed—in a panic, scanning faces with his name coming out weak under your breath. 

With your vision spinning, you felt faint before you heard it.

“Mommy! Mommy! You’re here! Look! I’m King of the castle!” he shouted, and your peeled eyes snapped to see him up high in a bright red plastic tower.

But before your shoes could hit the soft foam of the playground, you were intercepted by something larger.

“He’s fine,” he said under his breath, catching and stopping you in your beeline, holding you by the waist. “I need to talk to you.”

Something old and instinctive didn’t bother paying him heed—as if forgetting how to speak, you just ignored him in favor of pushing past him, eyes glued to the sight of your son blissfully unaware, playing with other kids with an oblivious smile on his face. But his grip was stronger than your instincts, firm enough to keep you still but not enough to hurt you, even when you tried twisting yourself free.

“Come on,” he urged.

You were about to sneer something, finally looking at his face—that face you hated—but the bark of curse words got held back.

“Look around you. Let’s not cause a scene.” The wild animal within went silent while your eyes flickered around at the surrounding picnic tables where families were having their dinner. “We can talk outside. My assistant will look after him.”

You didn’t feel much inclined to listen, but still, even though it made you hate to fold on his behest—reluctantly, you accepted the sense of what he was saying. Looking back at your son still laughing up in his tower with cinched brows. You didn’t want to scare him when he didn’t know what was going on, even though you felt the need to scream at the very top of your lungs.

You allowed him to lead you outside, but as soon as the fresh air welcomed your rigid state, you were at once whipping around and pushing him away. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” snarling at him. “How fucking dare you?!”

“Calm down. He might still see us,” he hushed, hands raised in halfhearted surrender, casting a nod to the glass walls separating you from the frivolity inside. “Let’s just talk rationally.”

“Rationally?!” you scoffed in a shout, eyes still manic. “You fucking kidnapped my son, you psycho-”

“You wouldn’t answer my texts or calls,” he snubbed. “He’s my son too-”

“Fuck you,” you interrupted to return the favor. “If you fuck with me on this, I swear I’ll ruin you.” You had a finger raised at him, breathing furiously—looking down-right mad—sweaty and disheveled from your run with your face twisted with such a state of frenzy. “I’ll tell everyone how I got him in the first place!”

Despite the threat, he didn’t seem all that fazed. 

“Think about it…” he said calmly, much in contrast to you. “Who do you think people will believe? A teenage mom abusing her son for a paycheck or his estranged father wanting to provide for him?”

You blanched, and before anything else made it out—whether it be more rage or something else, he was already further silencing you.

“Not to mention… the trial would be gruesome, and Junior would have to grow up with it always hanging over his head—is that really what you want?”

You look at him, and you still can't believe it. How could it have turned out like this? You’d been perfect only a month ago before he’d shown up at your apartment.

You thought you’d sent him on his way for good that day, but only now did you realize he had no plans to leave you alone.

“Come, let’s talk in the car. It’s cold, and you’re not dressed,” he ushered, taking your arm again where you stood, stunned and still, trying to wrap your head around his threats. Letting yourself be led into the black vehicle standing perfectly parked in its neat white rectangle.

You both got in the back with enough room to battle your homey sofa nook at home.

“I don’t want this to get ugly,” he started anew—his voice still so irritatingly calm, unfairly so. “I just want to see my son-”

“He’s not yours,” you croaked, feeling the situation slip from your fingers—battling a drumming heart, shifty breaths, and the mean sting of tears welling up in your eyes.

“If you try and keep him from me, I’ll sue for full custody. And given I’m the only one out of us who isn’t a pro-bono case and the only one with any future that isn’t managing a register, I’d say I have a pretty fair shot at winning.”

You can’t keep from bursting out crying then, overwhelmed by the fear of losing the only thing that mattered and the pure disgust of the man who’d given it to you. It felt like everything was tearing—your whole life—crumbling before your eyes.

“Don’t cry,” he soothed, his hand coming to drape your hunched shoulders where you held your tears. “I don’t want to take him away from you…” His attempt did little to comfort you, but the next words had your heart grasping for what little hope they offered. “And I’m not going to either.”

You looked at him through the hurt of swollen eyes, tears still falling while he wiped them away with the course pad of his thumb—rubbing your cheek affectionately. In any other circumstance, you’d surely slap him, but right now, all you could do was listen.

“I’m buying a house,” he revealed, still holding your cheek and gaze. “Fit for a family. Safe neighborhood, good school district, giant backyard.” The list went over your head—it was all too surreal to register. You couldn’t even fathom what he was getting at until, “I want the two of you to come live there with me.”

Stunned, you remained completely silent until the tears dried, and he let go of your face. 

“You don’t have to say anything right now.” He reaches across you and fetches the seatbelt before coming back over you to click it in place. “I’ll go get Junior and drive you home. Just stay here.”

You do as suggested and stay seated as he pops his door open and leaves—feeling all but cemented in place as your thoughts go tumbling around and around as if caught in a rip curl. When Junior jumps in beside you, a farfetched smile is all you can offer. Thankfully, he’s so enamored by a toy he’d gotten to notice much of your state.

When your door opens again, you’re led out and onto your neighborhood street. The fresh air does little to clear your mind. Feeling all but feverish as you hold Junior's small hand in yours while the man of your nightmares smiles all too fondly at the two of you.

“I’ll come pick you up after your shift on Monday.,” he says decidedly—cheerfully as he ruffles Junior’s hair enough to make him giggle. “Bring the rascal with you, and he can pick his room first.”

You weren’t planning on staying. You were never planning on staying—certain you would leave the second the opportunity to skip town arose—you just need to scramble the money together first. 

But the house was huge… nothing you could ever dream of, and while it made you desperate with grief, you couldn’t deny it either… Junior really loved having a dad.

It nearly brought sick to your throat to call him that. It was a shot through the heart every time you heard Junior’s boyish call, squealing with giggles, saying “Daddy, daddy, daddy-”

None of it seemed right to you. Seeing his bright smile, now at the age where a new tooth fell out every other week—looking so goofy as he proudly shows the two of you the new one he’d just knocked out playing soccer at school. “Mommy, Daddy, look!”

What’s worse is that you can't even deny how good the man you hate is at it all—spoiling him with gifts and making him laugh—giving piggyback ride after air-plane flight after tickle-fight and a game of tag and hide’n’seek. 

And it’s not just the easy stuff. He’s good at the shit that used to make you go crazy—putting him to bed, getting him dressed, making him eat the right stuff, and not just scuffle down candy. It’s as if the two of them have developed a secret language you’re not a part of. If Junior weren’t a toddler, you’d even suspect he’d been bribed and told to do his best to make you lose your mind. But no, it’s just reality.

The man you live with drives and picks your son up from school as if he’d done it since he was born, goes with you to meet the teacher if and when he gets into trouble and helps the two of you pick out the right shoes—shoes that you can now afford, thanks to him.

“I thought I might sleep in the master bedroom tonight.” He says, leaning against the frame in the doorway.

You’d been living there a month now. He’d been generous enough to sleep in the guest room up until now.

You don’t know how to deny him. It feels as if anything you might say would just be ignored or threatened until you eventually took it back. You didn’t want him in your bed—you didn’t want him in the same house—in fact, preferably, you’d want him to be six feet deep in the dirt.

You end up not answering. But he’s used to that by now. 

“I get it…” he says, taking steps into the room you’d wrongfully thought was your safe space. “You don’t trust me.” He sits down at the edge of the bed and reaches out across the sheets. You’re too late to pull your feet to yourself before he has one in his hand. He doesn’t do much but stroke it. “But you can.”

The sincerity in his eyes makes you want to gouge them out. It’s all been some cruel joke ever since you moved in—all the pleasantries and presents, as if trying to distract you from the past. Your wardrobe is chockfull of it, and so is Junior’s room—filled to the brim with lies.

“I’m never gon’ hurt you.” Another lie. “I did you wrong once, and I’ll spend the rest of my life makin’ up for it.” 

You want to shake your head, laugh in his face—anything to reject it. But you’re terrified of what he might do if you didn’t play along. The threat of losing Junior is enough to make you cooperative.

“I know I’ve not been fair—pushin’ you into all of this so fast.” He gets down on his knees on the floor as if praying, right down beside you. “I took advantage of a vulnerable situation ‘cause I’m an impatient asshole—but I promise you—” He takes your hand in both of his. “If you give me the chance, I’m gon’ make our lives together like somethin’ outa’ a fuckin’ fairytale—all that happily ever after shit and more, just like you always wanted.”

The kiss he presses upon your knuckles beckons goosebumps to rise all across you. All his words feel like a bad script read by an even worse actor—in fact, this whole thing feels like a prank. And still, it doesn’t surprise you—he’s been laughing at you ever since you were children.

And now, laughing still, only with a fucking ringbox in his hand.

“I want Junior to see us as a united front. I don’t want him askin’ question why we ain’t sleepin’ in the same bed, why we fight behind locked doors, why you cry in the bathroom.” 

He pops the black velvet lid and reveals something so outrages it almost looks tacky lying there in a plush bed of red silk.

“I want us to be happy.” He picks the little thing out and holds it up between his thumb and index, still holding your hand in the other. “I want us to be real.” You can almost see your life flash before your eyes as it threatens your ring finger. “Let’s make us real.”

You don’t say anything as he eases the tiny hoop on, sliding it all the way back until it sits snugly right at your knuckle—dazzling in the dark. A tiny tear slips down your cheek—equally dazzling.

He played some with the digit—a smile on his face. 

“Looks good on you, Mrs.” As he calls you by his last name you almost shake the ring off as if it burned to wear, but it all gets lost when he rushes forward and locks his lips with yours.

You yelp against his mouth, kept from turning away by the large hand holding your jaw, threatening to seize your throat and squeeze. You remember how it had felt. You don’t want more of a reminder, so you intercept his tongue with yours before he forced it down your throat.

He groans at the warm welcome, and your entire body shudders in memory.

You hadn’t let anyone touch you since that time five years ago. It had left a poor taste in your mouth, and the hunger for it had never come back.

You choke it down now as he climbs on top. 

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[losersiren]

𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭

"𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒽, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒.” CW: Fem reader (she/her), possessiveness, suggestive Note: This is my first time writing something like this and posting it...go easy on me o(>< )o

The chandlers decorated the ceiling above the spacious ballroom, giving a gentle glow to the people filling said ballroom. The social season has just started to blossom, giving men and women room to court each other if one is blessed with the opportunity for such an experience. Catching the eye of a reliable suitor is quite troublesome– most of the men here do not fit any of your requirements, and if they did, they would suddenly be caught in a scandal of sorts, causing them to be an outcast. Not a good look on you or your family name.

You idly toy with the fan in your hand, your gaze sweeping over the sea of faces in the room. The task at hand feels insurmountable, and finding a suitable suitor in this town is daunting. Perhaps, you muse, debuting late was a misstep, a decision that now seems to mock you. You could always become a spinster…and ruin your reputation and lineage because you choose such an idiotic choice… regrettably it may be the easier option. 

“Pray tell why you’re glued to this corner as if you’re some wallflower,” A witty baritone voice whispers in your ear, the hairs of your neck standing upright while a cold shiver runs down your spine.

The sense of familiarity washes over you, and the resentment still lingers from years ago makes its way forward. The Earl’s son, your childhood close friend, who left you without a word after he said he’d be there for you.

What a bastard

“Have you ever heard of personal space? Or have you forgotten the amount of lectures your mother ingrained into your head on etiquette when you were just a brat?” You bite back with venom coating every word you spit out. You place your fan on your left ear.

”Ah, I see.” He steps back and gives you space. “You’ve become cold-hearted towards me since my departure overseas. I was only gone for a mere moment.” He switches his position from behind you to in front of you. He takes up your whole vision, his maturity, more evident now since the last time you saw him as a juvenile boy. It's been a few years, hasn't it? Yet he still has his teasing nature; no boarding school or amount of lectures can take that away from him. He bows a little lower than he should, his right hand to the opposite shoulder and his left arm behind his back. He looks up at you with those oh-so-regretful grey eyes. “I wholeheartedly apologize for departing overseas in such an impulsive matter without even notifying you in any way. I should’ve sent you letters and a hoard of messenger doves to accompany you”. “But I did not, and for that, my Lady, I've made a significant sin in your eyes– I do not deserve your forgiveness, but oh, if you could grant me such a pleasure.”

His voice is as quiet and soft as a starving mouse stealing food from a kitchen, careful for only your ears to pick up his pleas for forgiveness. Just as though you were a goddess punishing him, which he should be reprimanded tenfold in his eyes, who was he to abandon you without a trace? Though the situation before was entirely out of his hands, he didn’t want to go to that goddamned private school that was away from you; he fought tooth and nail not to go. Every house servant had to push and hold him down because he kept fighting; even his family members were victims of his wrath. His father, The Earl, still has fading scars from that night years ago.

He should’ve fought harder for you.

People around you start noticing; who wouldn’t? One of the most prestigious Earls of this country’s only son is bowing dishonourably low, borderline grovelling like a peasant caught stealing a measly loaf of bread. You feel eyes turning onto you, women whispering between their fans to one another, wondering in what predicament the next-in-line Earl would be for him to be embarrassingly bowing to a one-of-a-mill daughter of a viscount—a rank lower than him and a woman at that; your fan placement is not making it look better. Immediately change the position of your fan from your left ear to twirling it in your left hand, hoping he understands the situation he has put not only him but you in.

 He only smiles in return. “Stand straight; You look like a fool.” You hiss, “Do I have your forgiveness, Darling?” a scoff escapes your mouth. “That is either here or there! Be proper. Others are watching.” That doesnt deter him, nor does he care about them. “So my apology wasn't sufficient? Since you are thinking about everyone else but me.” More eyes make their way onto the pair of you, and whispers grow with the exchange of gossip. “You’re acting like a child-” He cuts you off. “Shall I go on my knees for you? I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but preferably, I would love to be in a more…secluded environment.” A smirk graces his lips at the thought. “Or shall I kiss your feet-” 

“You are a soon-to-be- Earl! Has that school taught you nothing? God, you’ve become more insufferable, I swear.” Your face feels warmer now, and embarrassment takes over you from his childish yet sincere teasing.

The young lord’s eyes fixated on you, on your lips, how your dress accentuates your already perfect self, your hands, oh, how he wishes to feel them against his. The years it's been since he saw you, he could listen to you scold him for hours on end; it doesn’t matter what you are saying. Just hearing your voice is enough. God knows it's been too long since he’s been deprived of you. He thanks his past self for sabotaging whatever male decided to even think of courting you. Though he was far away, his social standing never changed.

The lord decided by the second month he was away from you to pay his old servants to send him as much information as possible on the vermins that would try to nestle their way into your life. He would…No, he has ruined anyone who wanted to get in between you two. And he’ll keep it that way. You’ve stolen his heart since meeting him as a lad.

“So you wish for me to kneel? As you wish.” He starts to kneel; gasps can be heard. But you stop him, holding his shoulders upright; his eyes widen as you touch him.

You’re so close

“I forgive you…I forgive you…”

“I forgive you, Ambrose…”

Oh…

His name on your tongue….

His mind blanks. Has he gone to heaven? Oh, you sweet angel, you have him wrapped around your finger. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

His smile is blinding as he stands and looks down at you.

“Then now that's settled…May I have the honour of a dance with yours truly?”

.." Or shall I beg more?"

End Notes: Fun fact (not really): I based most of this post on The Regency era, and that includes fan language! That is why I described the readers' actions with it. Placing the fan on your left ear means "I wish to get rid of you." Twirling the fan with your left hand means "We are watched." Thought that would be something fun to add (^.^)

[hintsofhoney]

Ladies With Experience

Paring(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: When Dean makes an off-handed comment about "preferring ladies with experience", you try (and fail) to not let it get under your skin. You're a virgin, but you've done just about everything else, and when you talk to Dean about it, he offers to be your first. He's your best friend, and you've been in love with him forever... who are you to deny him?

Tags: smut, first time, virgin!reader, dom/sub dynamics, dom!dean, p in v, oral (female receiving), spanking, fingering, not-so-innocent reader

Word Count: 5k

A/N: As always, thank you to my loves @wayward-dreamer and @makeadealwithdean for beta-ing. Would be nowhere without you two 🥰

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“Anyways, let’s say you’re right, fine. Who would want virgins?”

You know Sam didn’t mean it like that , and you felt stupid for letting it bother you. For letting this case bother you.

“You got me,” Dean replied with a shrug. “I prefer ladies with experience.” 

And there it was, like a punch straight to the gut. You hated that it hurt you as much as it did. So what, you’ve never had sex. But you’ve done almost everything else. You knew what you liked and what you didn't. You’ve been around the block a few times with the various sex toys in your nightstand drawer. It’s not like you weren’t experienced at all . But that didn’t make Dean’s words hurt any less. You swallowed down the burger and fries from lunch that were threatening to come up, before standing up from your seat at the small motel room table. 

The brothers looked at you, eyebrows raised.

“I — bathroom,” you managed, before quickly making your way there, slamming the door shut behind you. 

Staring at your reflection in the dirty bathroom mirror, you let the tears fall. Silently, you wiped them away as Dean’s words echoed in your head, and you hated that you loved him. Hated that you’d never be ballsy enough to admit it to him, especially now.

Something like five minutes passed and you knew you didn’t have long before one of the boys — likely Sam — would come knocking to check on you. You flushed the unused toilet so they wouldn’t suspect anything and turned on the faucet, splashing your tear-soaked face with cold water before using a hand towel to wipe it dry. When you emerged, the guys were packing up their duffels.

“Did you find them?” you asked, hopeful.

Dean checked his gun, before flipping the safety on and stuffing it in the back waistband of his jeans. 

“I sure as hell hope so, ‘cause if I’m about to crawl through the goddamn sewers for nothing —”

“They’re down there, Dean,” Sam replied, giving him a pointed look. He turned his attention to you, and if he had noticed anything off, he hadn’t let his face show it. “You coming?”

You grabbed your gun off the dresser and holstered it in reply.

Six hours later, the three of you were sweaty, panting, and splattered in blood after a close fight with dragons in the sewers. Thankfully, you hadn’t had to wade in any actual sewage. You hadn’t said a word to either brother since you had gone to the bathroom six hours ago, and to keep them from growing suspicious of your sudden silence, you opted to take a nap in the backseat of the Impala on the way back to the motel. 

You stirred awake as Dean pulled into the parking lot, barely conscious enough to catch the end of the brothers’ conversation.

“I’ll get her,” Dean said. 

Sam nodded and got out of the car, gently closing the passenger side door before heading inside. 

You rubbed your eyes, blinking away the sleep in them as Dean’s face came into focus. He was looking at you over his shoulder, one arm resting on the top of the front bench seat. 

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

It took a moment for the feeling you had been filled with prior to your nap to come back to you, his words from earlier echoing in your head. I prefer ladies with experience . You shot him a cold glare.

“Alright. What’d I do?” he asked, turning in his seat to better angle himself towards you. 

The question caught you off guard.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You haven’t said a word since we left for that hunt, Y/N.”

“How do you know Sam didn’t do something?”

He replied with a knowing look.

You stared at your hands, clasped together in your lap, and muttered, “It’s nothing. Stupid.”

“C’mon, talk to me,” he urged.

You hated this. How easy he was to talk to. How you had always been able to tell him what was on your mind.

But not this . You couldn’t tell him this. 

You shook your head. 

“Hey,” he said softly, shifting in his seat. He was fully turned around now, reaching out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to look at those green eyes. “Talk to me,” he repeated, no room for argument in his words.

“I can’t,” you whispered. You wanted to throw up. He was your best friend, and you were utterly, irrevocably, head-over-heels in love with him. He preferred girls with experience, and you had none. Not in the way that it mattered. And he had known that, thanks to a late-night stake-out game of Never Have I Ever . 

His jaw clenched. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

You briefly met his gaze. You couldn’t hold it for long. 

“Was it something I said?” he prodded. 

You stared at the buttons of his open flannel, your eyes quickly darting up to meet his in silent confirmation. 

He sighed, pulling his hand away from your face and folding his arms on top of the backseat, resting his chin on his forearm.

“Do I at least get a hint?”

“Dean, I —”

“C’mon, Y/N. You’ve never not told me anything.”

“Why are you pushing this?”

“Because I can’t stand not talking to you.”

Your heart leaped at that confession, however innocent it might have been. 

“I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”

“Because I’m making you. You would have silent treatmented me into next week.”

You didn’t respond.

He sighed again, defeated. “Y/N, c’mon. Please? Whatever I said, I’m sorry. I’m sure I didn’t mean it.”

“You didn’t mean that you ‘prefer girls with experience’?” you retorted quite sassily. The question tumbled out before you even had time to think of the implication that came with asking it. 

Dean opened and closed his mouth like a damn fish. 

“Thought so.” You began to move to make your way out of the car, when Dean reached out and grabbed your wrist.

“No,” he finally said. “I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s okay if you do. I told you, it was a dumb thing to be upset about.”

“No, it’s not. I didn’t stop to think about how this case might have been affecting you. You know I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you, right?” 

You swallowed, nodded. His hand felt like fire around your wrist.

“But for what it’s worth, I wasn’t serious. I don’t prefer anyone one way or the other. Sex is sex. If anyone’s willing to have it with me, I consider myself lucky.”

“Romantic,” you quipped.

A smile tugged at his lips. “I could show you, y’know.”

You almost threw up right there in the backseat. Your eyes grew wide.

“What?” you croaked.

“Well, if you’re worried about not having any experience… I just mean I’d be happy to, y’know. Show you the ropes.”

“… Of sex?” Really, you thought it was cute that he had this misconception of you. You knew about the ropes. You’d just never been tied up with them. 

“Of whatever you want.”

“You think I want to have sex with you?” It came out harsher than you meant it to, like part of you still thought you could hide the fact that you were in love with him. Like if you just joked it off it would go away, and you wouldn’t have to cross this line with him, even though you so badly wanted to. But you had to protect yourself, your heart. 

You didn’t miss the flash of hurt in his eyes.

“No, that’s not what I —”

You suddenly felt the need to clarify your question.

“No, I — I didn’t mean it like that either.”

Dean’s face morphed into one of confusion. “…So you do want to have sex with me?”

Your cheeks flushed red, and your throat bobbed. “Uh…”

“Forget it, stupid question, you don’t have to an—” 

“Yeah,” you answered, your voice barely above a whisper. Fuck it. Who were you to hold yourself back from the one thing you’ve been wanting for years? You cleared your throat. “Yeah, I really, really do.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Seriously?”

“Oh, cut the shit, Dean. Like you’re surprised. Everyone wants to have sex with you.”

He scoffed. “ Everyone , Y/N, really?”

“There are literally smutty fanfictions written about you,” you replied, reaching into your back pocket for your phone, dead set on proving your point. 

“Gross. And Becky doesn’t count as everyone.”

“Actually, Becky only writes for Sam.”

You realized what you said at the same time he did, and he eyed you suspiciously.

“Why do you know that?”

God dammit. “I don’t. I mean — I — like, she obviously loves Sam. So, like, she wouldn’t write porn about you. Obviously.”

“Uh huh…” There was an uncomfortable silence for a beat or three. And then, “How much smut have you read about me?”

Your face felt like it had just been rinsed with fucking lava, and you knew it probably looked as red as it, too. 

“None!” you exclaimed, way too quickly. 

Dean smirked. “You do really wanna have sex with me,” he remarked, like he couldn’t believe it.

“Trust me, the urge is fading by the second.”

His grin disappeared almost instantly. “Would it help if I told you that I think about fucking you all the time, too?”

“Well, I don’t think about it all the —”

“Y/N.” He said your name like a warning, and the tone of his voice settled right in your core. 

“Yeah,” you squeaked. “Yeah, that helps.”

“Good,” he smirked, before grabbing his phone from beside him. 

“Uh… What are you doing?” You watched as he scrolled for a second, pressing a button before putting the phone to his ear.

“Telling Sammy to beat it.”

Your eyes grew wide. “What!?” you whisper-yelled. “No! Just — we can just do it back here!”

He gave you a pointed look. “I’m not taking your virginity in the backseat of my car, Y/N.”

“Why not!?”

“Because we’re not sixteen, for one. And for two… I wanna make it special.” He rushed the last bit out, like he was embarrassed to say it. And he should be. You cringed as you heard it. 

“Oh my God,” you began.

“Shut up.”

“You did not just say that.”

“Shut up. Sam, answer your phone, God dammit!”

“I have done, like, almost everything else, you know. In the backseats of many, many cars. You don’t need to make it special for me, Deano,” you teased. 

“For the last time, shut your mouth, or I’m gonna shut it for you,” he said, the look he gave letting you know he wasn’t in the mood to play. No, he wanted to fuck you. Beyond that, he wanted to dominate you. And you were more than happy to submit.

You might have been a virgin physically, but mentally? Mentally, you’d probably give Dean a run for his money. 

Sam didn’t answer. Naturally. He was probably in the shower, but you were kind of grateful because as much as you wanted Dean, you didn’t want to make Sam uncomfortable. Or worse, give him any reason to give you the talk . Because he totally would. After trying his brother two more times, Dean decided it would be better to just get a room of your own, and you were much happier with that decision. 

You watched as he unlocked the door, pushing it open and stepping aside, gesturing for you to go ahead. 

“Ladies first.”

“You mean you’re not gonna carry me over the threshold?” you joked. “Thought you wanted to make this special .”

He gave you an unamused look, and you shot back a sarcastic closed-mouth smile before you were being swept off of your feet and over his shoulder faster than you could process.

“Dean!” you squealed, as he carried you through the doorway, kicking the door shut behind him before practically throwing you onto the bed.

He was hovering over you seconds later, his face a few inches from yours, and the mood shifted from playful to serious.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

You nodded, your fingers coming up to play with the collar of his flannel.

“If I tell you something, you promise you won’t make fun of me?” you questioned, your eyes glued to the plaid pattern on his shirt.

“Promise.”

“I was kinda… holding out for you.” You drew your eyes up to meet his.

“Seriously?” he asked, half laughing. You could tell it wasn’t because he thought it was funny. It was because he couldn’t believe it.

You swallowed nervously, nodding again as you stared into those green eyes, and you hoped that this meant as much to him as it did to you. Something told you it did.

“I wasn’t kidding, you know,” he said.

You tilted your head in question.

“About making it special for you. I know it’s like, the grossest thing I could have possibly said but, you deserve so much better than me, and so if —”

“There’s no one better for me, you idiot.” And you almost told him everything. That you’ve been in love with him ever since you met one summer at Bobby’s, back when you were just kids. That everything felt like it led up to this moment. That you wanted him to fuck you and make love to you all at once. That you didn’t want this to be the only time he did. But instead, you grabbed his face in your hands and pulled him towards you, your lips meeting in a kiss that felt like it could have powered an entire country’s electric grid. 

He deepened it, and the two of you were nothing but tongues and teeth and lips — it wasn’t sexy. It was hungry. Starved, more like. Like he had been thinking about kissing you just as long as you had been thinking about him. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling his hips down towards your denim-covered core, down until you felt the hardness underneath his jeans pressed up against the spot where you needed him most, down until you couldn’t help but grind against it. He moaned as he kissed you, so you did it again. And again. And again. And —

“You need to stop that.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command. You noticed that your arms were above your head, his hands pinning your wrists against the mattress. You don’t know when that happened, but you weren’t complaining. In fact, it spurred you on. 

You smiled mischievously and rutted against him once more. 

“What’re you gonna do about it, Winchester?”

He dropped his forehead to yours, steadying his breaths.

“I can fuck you like it’s your first time, or I can fuck you how I actually want to.”

“And how’s that?”

He took a shaky breath, like he was actually having a hard time controlling himself. You felt a sense of pride shoot through you at that.

“Like the fucking brat you are.”

You almost came from that alone. 

Wanna know some common misconceptions about virgins? That they don’t have kinks. That they don’t watch porn. That they don’t have a plethora of sex toys  in their nightstand. That they sit and crochet in their convent dorm room all day. Sure, you were years past the age when girls typically lose their virginity, but you were no saint. In fact, you enjoyed being quite the opposite. And you enjoyed being put in your place. 

“Do your worst.”

It was like something in him snapped. His eyes were lust-blown and hungry and you didn’t miss the way his jaw ticked, and then he was undressing you so fast that you could’ve been part of a quick change act. He muttered something about a light system as he took off your clothes, and you nodded in a way that let him know that you already knew how all of that worked. 

When you were down to just a black lace bra and panties, he paused as his fingers hooked under your waistband. He stared at you, his expression serious, and you knew that he was going to give you one more warning. One more opportunity to say, “Actually, I’d like to have a totally normal, non-kinky, first time experience, please.” But that wasn’t what you wanted. 

“You sure you know what you’re asking for?”

You rolled your eyes. “I trust you. Put me in my goddamn place, Winchester. You’ve only been wanting to do it for the past two hours.”

“Oh, I’ve been waiting to do it for a lot longer than that, sweetheart.”

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, huffing a small laugh before pulling off your panties in one swift motion. His hands came to rest on your bare thighs as he locked his eyes with yours. “Any hard limits?”

You shook your head. “I trust you. I mean, like, don’t pee on me or —”

“Not gonna happen. But… most everything else?”

“Dean,” you began, looking at him pointedly, “I trust you. If it helps, I’ve used like, toys on myself before. And I don’t mean just a vibrator, I mean like… well, you get the gist.”

“So I don’t have to go easy on you, is what you’re saying?”

“Put me in my place,” you repeated.

“Alright,” he replied, his hands gripping the underside of your thighs as he roughly pushed them apart, “but just so we’re clear, that’s the last order you’ll be giving tonight.”

Your throat bobbed and you nodded. “Yes, Sir.” 

You meant it as a joke, but it didn’t come out that way. No, the title came out in a way that made his jaw clench and his eyes darken and it stoked the fire raging in your core. 

Dean didn’t waste any more time talking after that, his tongue moving through your folds seconds later, drawing gasps and soft moans from your lips. You arched into him, your hands in his hair, silently begging for more. It wasn’t the first time a man had gone down on you, but it was the first time it felt like this . 

He pinned your hips down to the bed with one hand splayed over your abdomen and then his tongue was inside you and “eating you out” didn’t come close to describing his ministrations. He was devouring you like his life depended on it, like the sounds you were making were a goddamn Zeppelin song that he wasn’t anywhere near done listening to. And then he added a finger, and then another, and it didn’t matter how many times you had imagined him doing this while you had your own fingers inside you — nothing would have prepared you for how good the real thing felt.

“Oh — fuck,” you gasped, and he chuckled into your sex and you had to actively think about not coming on his face and ending this whole experience early. 

“You’re close,” he observed, flicking his tongue over your clit as he continued to pump his fingers in and out, and it was so fucking hot how he just knew that. It was like he had been fucking you for years, the way he knew your body, your tells.

You nodded. “Mmhm,” you confirmed, unable to form words with the way the coil in your abdomen was tightening. 

“Hold it,” he ordered.

Your eyes shot open, because it wasn’t the command you were expecting, and you tried to lift your head to shoot him a cold glare but you couldn’t. And he just kept pumping, flicking, licking, chuckling — fucking asshole.

“Mm — fuck — please!” you cried out.

“When you come tonight, it’s gonna be on my cock. So hold it.”

You didn’t think you could. You had played this game with yourself and your vibrator and your self-control was majorly lacking and God his mouth and fingers felt so fucking good and you were there, the coil wound so goddamn tight, it would take nothing for you to let it snap, and then — 

He stopped.

He pulled his mouth away from your core, his fingers out of your pussy, and you were writhing underneath him, because you had been right there and you needed him to be touching you again right the fuck now.

You whined.

He spanked your pussy. Not hard or anything, just enough to see if it was okay with you, and fuck, was it. 

“Stop whining,” he demanded. He positioned himself so he was hovering over you again, his face inches away from yours as he stared into your eyes. “Or I’ll give you something to whine about.”

You were curious as to what that something would be, but sensed that right now wouldn’t be the best time for that question. You nodded instead.

“Good girl.” He smiled when he said it, like he knew exactly what those two words would do to you. 

You squirmed underneath him, it had been too long since he’d last touched you. Too long being thirty seconds at most, but still. It had felt like hours.

“Has anyone ever told you,” he began, dipping his head to place a soft kiss on your collarbone, “that you are very,” another kiss to the other side, “very,” one more to the middle of your chest, “impatient?” He slowly pulled down the left cup of your bra, your breast spilling out of it. “Makes me wanna take my time.” 

His eyes stayed glued to yours as his head moved down to your hardened nipple, taking it into his mouth at a goddamn snail’s pace. You arched your back, and he let you this time, chuckling at how easy it was to make your body react. His other hand slipped underneath you, unclasping your bra in a way that reminded you that he had a lot of experience doing so, and you refused to water the seed of jealousy that had sprouted from the thought. It didn’t matter that he had done this a million times. All that mattered was that he was doing it now, with you. 

He pulled your bra off and threw it haphazardly over his shoulder, and you were suddenly very aware of the fact that you were completely naked, and he still had 87 fucking layers on, the outermost of which was still speckled with dragon blood, and it’s not that you were anywhere near clean, but you certainly didn’t want those clothes touching your bare skin.

“Dean?” you rasped, and he pulled away from your nipple to give you his full attention.

“You okay, sweetheart? Do you want to st—”

“No! God, no. It’s just —” you sighed, exasperated. This was dumb. You were going to stop him for this? Your eyes landed on a spot of blood on the shoulder of his flannel. Yes, yes you were, because that’s gross. “It’s just that your clothes are covered in monster blood and I’m like, totally naked, and I don’t want —”

He chuckled like you were the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. “I gotchya, baby.”

Baby. Baby ? You tried not to overthink the pet name as he climbed off the bed to take his clothes off, watching you the entire time. Sweetheart, you’d been called a million times. He called everyone sweetheart. But baby? Baby was his car, and no one else. Unless, that’s what you were to him now. His, and no one else’s. You filed the thought away under “Things to Think About After You Lost Your Virginity to Dean Winchester”.

He was in nothing but his boxers now, his cock already hard underneath them, and you bit your lip as he hooked his thumbs under the waistband and slid them off. And then, there he was, exactly like you’d imagined him but also better, because this was real and happening. You gaped at him, at his size. He wasn’t any bigger than the fake one you had in your nightstand, but that one was nine inches and you could never fit it all the way in. He was perfect. All of him. 

“You okay?” he asked again, crawling back onto the bed.

“Mhm,” you managed, gulping.

He was on top of you again, his forearm holding up his weight as his free hand came to grab your thigh, hooking it over his hip and leaning down to kiss you. You could feel him against your core, his cock moving between your folds as he moved his hips, teasing you with it. 

“Dean,” you breathed.

“Hm?”

“I want…” you couldn’t find it in yourself to finish your request.

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered.

You decided you liked “baby” better. 

“Please.”

“I thought you wanted me to put you in your place?”

You shook your head. “N-next time. Just, please .”

His eyebrows shot up, and you realized what you had said. 

“Next time, huh?” he asked, with that shit-eating grin of his. 

You rolled your eyes. He stopped moving, the smile wiped off his lips as he gripped you underneath your chin, somewhere between rough and gentle, the look on his face telling you he wasn’t messing around. 

“Roll your eyes at me again, and next time I’ll really do my worst.”

You bit back a smile, and you just knew he was thinking, Brat. But you asked your question anyway.

“But not this time?” There was a devilish gleam in your eyes. You were tempting him, and he knew it.

“Do you ever get tired of being such a brat?” 

“Dunno,” you shrugged. “Do you ever get tired of it?” 

His jaw tensed, and he forced a sardonic, closed-lip smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Hm. But not this time, right?”

“Y/N —” he warned.

“Afraid you’re gonna hurt me? Scare me? What’s really keeping you from putting me in my place… Sir?”

For the second time that night, something in him snapped. You yelped as he flipped you over and grabbed your hips, dragging them upwards so your ass was in the air and your chest was on the mattress. Four hits to your cheeks came down in quick succession, and when you reached your hand behind you to block them, it was quickly pinned to the small of your back. Three more hits followed, accompanied by a pathetic, “Ow!” from your lips.

“Color?” he questioned roughly.

“So fucking green,” you replied, dazed.

Seven more hits followed, each one harder than the last, and you didn’t think there was anything better than the sting you were feeling right now. There was nothing more you wanted than for him to mark you up like this.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he commented. Five more hits. 

“Oh, fuck!” you cried out at the last hit, one that felt like it reverberated through your entire body. One that definitely left a handprint behind. 

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you?” It was a rhetorical question. He spanked you four more times. “You just wanted me to mark you up, is that it? Think of me every time you sit down for the next few days, hm?” Three more. 

“Mmph!” Your cries were muffled by the comforter. 

“Yeah, I can tell. Look at this fucking mess.” He dragged his fingers through your soaked folds. “Jesus Christ,” he said under his breath, and then he was flipping you back over. He nestled himself between your legs, his tip teasing your entrance. His expression softened as he stared into your eyes. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah,” you replied breathily. 

He slid into you slow and easy, your mouth open in a silent moan as he bottomed out. 

“Good?” he asked.

“So fucking good.”

When he started to move, you thought you were going to die. In a good way. In a way that made you decide right there and then that when the time did come, this was how you wanted to go out. 

“Harder,” you encouraged, and he obliged. “Faster.”

He was properly fucking you now. Hard and fast and dirty. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his ass, forcing him to go deeper. His head was buried in your neck, your nails were clawing up his back, and the room was filled with moans and pants and expletives that put a sailor’s mouth to shame. 

“Shit, baby,” he panted into your neck. “God damn, you feel good. So fucking tight.” He sped up his thrusts, and the bed was squeaking so much that you thought it was going to fall apart underneath you, but you were too far gone to care. He reached a hand down in between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, circling it expertly. You were on the precipice of your release in seconds. And then —

“Come. Soak that fucking cock, baby. Come for me.”

And you screamed loud enough to get both you and him kicked out of the motel if they cared enough as your orgasm ripped through you. He fucked you through it, his pace only faltering moments later, right before he pulled out and painted your stomach white. It looked like a Jackson Pollock on your abdomen. Kinda hot, actually. 

“You okay?” Dean asked, looking down at you as he finally caught his breath.

“More than,” you smiled.

He mirrored the look on your face before crawling off the bed and heading to the bathroom. He came back moments later with a damp washcloth, gently cleaning his masterpiece off of your skin. When he was done, he threw it across the room, aiming for the bathroom, and it landed on the tile in front of the toilet. He laid down next to you, pulling you into his chest as he pressed a soft kiss into your hair, and you wanted to ask so many questions, all at once. What were you two now? How long had he been wanting this? Would there be a next time? Instead, you opted for —

“You know in fanfictions, they write you as a submissive most of the time.”

He snorted. “They’re half right.”

“A switch?” you asked, surprised. “Lucky me.”

He chuckled softly. “Sorry about your ass.”

You shrugged. “I was asking for it.”

“Oh, you were definitely asking for it. Still, I… I dunno. It was your first time, I didn’t want to get too —”

“It was perfect, Dean.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, smiling, dozing off already. “Yeah.”

[pucksandpower]

In Another Life

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: in which two soulmates are destined to always find each other only to be torn apart lifetime after lifetime after lifetime … until finally, they’re not (aka the reincarnation AU)

Rome, 79 AD

The bustling streets of Rome pulse with life as you make your way through the crowded forum. The scent of fresh bread and roasted meat wafts through the air, mingling with the chatter of merchants and citizens going about their daily business. You adjust your stola, the flowing garment feeling unusually constricting today as you hurry towards the Temple of Venus.

“Watch where you’re going!” A gruff voice shouts as you accidentally bump into a burly man carrying an amphora.

“My apologies,” you mutter, quickening your pace. Your heart races, not from the near-collision, but from anticipation. You’re running late for your clandestine meeting with Charles, the young patrician who has captured your heart.

As you approach the temple, you spot him pacing nervously at the base of the steps. His toga gleams white in the afternoon sun and his usually perfectly coiffed hair is slightly disheveled, as if he’s been running his hands through it anxiously.

“There you are!” Charles exclaims as you draw near. His face breaks into a relieved smile, and he reaches for your hands. “I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t come.”

You can’t help but return his smile, your earlier stress melting away. “As if I could stay away,” you tease, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. “Though I must say, your choice of meeting place is rather bold. The Temple of Venus? Are you trying to tell me something?”

He laughs, a warm, rich sound that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. “Perhaps I’m simply hoping the goddess will smile upon us,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “After all, we could use all the divine favor we can get.”

Your smile falters slightly at his words, reality creeping back in. “Have you spoken with your father?” You ask, unable to keep the worry from your voice.

Charles’ expression grows serious. “I have,” he says, leading you to a secluded corner of the temple grounds. “He’s ... not pleased, to say the least. He still insists on the marriage to Claudia.”

You feel a pang in your chest at the mention of Charles’ intended bride. “And what did you tell him?”

“The truth,” Charles replies firmly. “That my heart belongs to you and I won’t marry another.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Charles,” you whisper, “you know the consequences-”

He cuts you off, cupping your face in his hands. “I don’t care about the consequences. I love you, Y/N. I won’t let my father’s ambitions or society’s expectations keep us apart.”

You lean into his touch, torn between elation and fear. “But your family, your position ... you’d lose everything.”

“Not everything,” Charles insists. “I’d have you. That’s all that matters.”

You’re about to respond when a commotion near the temple entrance catches your attention. Your blood runs cold as you spot Charles’ father, Senator Leclerc, striding towards you, flanked by several burly slaves.

“Charles!” The senator bellows, his face contorted with rage. “Step away from that girl at once!”

Charles instinctively moves to shield you. “Father, please,” he begins, but the senator cuts him off.

“Silence! You shame our family with this ... this dalliance. I won’t stand for it any longer.”

You feel Charles tense beside you. “It’s not a dalliance, Father. I love her.”

The senator’s face grows even redder. “Love? You know nothing of love, boy. You have a duty to your family, to Rome. I won’t let you throw it all away for some common girl.”

“She’s not common,” Charles argues, his voice rising. “She’s extraordinary, and I won’t let you or anyone speak ill of her.”

The tension in the air is palpable as father and son face off. You want to intervene, to de-escalate the situation, but you’re frozen in place, your heart pounding.

Suddenly, one of the senator’s slaves moves forward, reaching for Charles. Without thinking, you step between them. “Don’t touch him!” You cry out.

Everything happens in a blur. The slave’s hand connects with your shoulder, shoving you back. You stumble, your foot catching on the hem of your stola. Time seems to slow as you feel yourself falling, tumbling down the temple steps.

“Y/N!” Charles’ anguished cry is the last thing you hear before pain explodes through your body and the world goes dark.

You drift in and out of consciousness, aware of frantic voices and the sensation of being carried. Charles’ face swims into view, streaked with tears.

“Stay with me, love,” he pleads, his voice cracking. “Please, don’t leave me.”

You try to speak, to reassure him, but no words come. The pain is fading now, replaced by a strange numbness. You manage to lift a hand to Charles’ cheek, wanting to wipe away his tears.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I love you, Charles. In this life and the next.”

As darkness closes in, your last thought is a desperate hope that someday, somehow, you’ll find each other again.

Genoa, 1348

The acrid smell of smoke and death hangs heavy in the air as Charles makes his way through the narrow, winding streets. His eyes water, both from the stench and the unshed tears he’s been holding back for days. The plague has ravaged the city, leaving behind a trail of devastation and despair.

Charles pulls his cloth mask tighter over his nose and mouth, though he knows it’s likely futile. He’s a physician, one of the few brave — or foolish — enough to still tend to the sick. But today, he’s not seeking out patients. He’s searching for you.

“Y/N!” He calls out, his voice muffled by the mask. “Y/N, where are you?”

A nearby door creaks open, and a haggard face peers out. “Keep your voice down, fool,” the old woman hisses. “You’ll bring the afflicted running.”

Charles ignores her, pressing on. His heart races with each step, fear and hope warring within him. He hasn’t seen you in days, not since you left to care for your ailing aunt. The memory of your parting plays in his mind, as vivid as if it were happening now.

“I have to go,” you had said, your eyes filled with determination and fear. “She has no one else.”

He had tried to dissuade you. “It’s too dangerous. The plague-”

“I know the risks,” you’d cut him off. “But I can’t abandon her. You’d do the same if it were your family.”

He couldn’t argue with that. It was one of the things he loved most about you — your unwavering compassion, even in the face of danger.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” he’d pleaded, pulling you close. “Promise me you’ll come back to me.”

You’d kissed him then, soft and sweet. “I promise. Nothing could keep me from you, my love. Not even death itself.”

Now, as he rounds another corner, Charles clings to that promise like a lifeline. “Y/N!” He calls again, desperation creeping into his voice.

Suddenly, he spots a familiar figure stumbling down the street. His heart leaps. “Y/N!”

You turn at the sound of his voice, and Charles feels his world tilt on its axis. Your face is pale, your eyes glassy with fever. As he watches in horror, you collapse to the ground.

“No, no, no,” Charles mutters, rushing to your side. He gathers you in his arms, his physician’s training warring with his lover’s panic. “Y/N, can you hear me? Open your eyes, love.”

Your eyelids flutter, and you manage a weak smile. “Charles,” you whisper. “You found me.”

“Of course I found you,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’ll always find you. Now, let’s get you home and take care of you.”

You shake your head slightly. “No, it’s too late. The plague-”

“Don’t say that,” Charles interrupts fiercely. “It’s not too late. I’m a physician, remember? I’ll cure you. I have to.”

Despite your condition, you manage a soft laugh. “My stubborn love. Always fighting the impossible.”

Charles lifts you gently, cradling you against his chest. “Nothing’s impossible when it comes to you,” he insists, starting the journey back to his home. “We’ve overcome so much already. Remember when we first met? You were convinced a lowly apprentice physician could never court a merchant’s daughter.”

You smile at the memory. “And you were determined to prove me wrong.”

“Which I did,” Charles says, a hint of his old cockiness creeping into his voice. “Rather spectacularly, if I recall correctly.”

“Mmm, yes,” you murmur. “That night under the stars, when you recited all those ridiculous poems ...”

Charles chuckles. “They weren’t ridiculous. They were romantic.”

“They were terrible,” you counter weakly. “But your heart was in the right place.”

As they near Charles’ home, your breathing becomes more labored. Fear claws at Charles’ chest, but he forces it down. “Stay with me, love,” he pleads. “We’re almost there.”

Once inside, Charles lays you gently on the bed. He works tirelessly, applying every treatment and remedy he knows. Hours blur together as he fights against the inevitable, refusing to give up hope.

But as night falls, he can no longer deny the truth. The plague is winning and he’s powerless to stop it.

“Charles,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “It’s time to let go.”

He shakes his head vehemently, tears streaming down his face. “No, I can’t. I won’t lose you again.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Again?”

Charles pauses, unsure where that thought came from. “I ... I don’t know. It just feels like I’ve lost you before, somehow.”

You manage a small smile. “Perhaps in another life,” you muse. “But in this one, we found each other. We loved. That’s what matters.”

“It’s not enough,” Charles insists, his voice breaking. “We were supposed to have more time. We were going to get married, have children, grow old together.”

“We’ll have that chance,” you say with surprising conviction. “If not in this life, then in the next. Our souls are bound, Charles. I feel it. This isn’t the end for us.”

Charles wants to believe you, but the grief is overwhelming. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know our love,” you reply, reaching up to touch his face. “It’s stronger than death, stronger than time itself. We’ll find each other again, my love. I promise.”

As your hand falls away, your eyes close for the last time. Charles pulls you close, his body wracked with sobs. “I’ll find you,” he vows through his tears. “In this life or the next, I’ll always find you.”

Days pass in a haze of grief and determination. Charles throws himself into treating the sick with renewed vigor, heedless of the risk to himself. And when the telltale symptoms begin to appear — the fever, the chills, the aching limbs — he faces them without fear.

As he lies in his sickbed, Charles’ thoughts are only of you. “I’m coming, my love,” he whispers to the empty room. “Wait for me.”

His last conscious thought is a fervent hope that somehow, somewhere, you’ll be reunited once more.

Paris, 1789

The streets of Paris echo with the sound of angry voices and marching feet as Charles makes his way through the city’s winding alleys. His heart races, not from the exertion of his hurried pace, but from the fear of what’s to come. The revolution has begun in earnest, and his world is crumbling around him.

“Charles!” Your voice cuts through the chaos, and he turns to see you running towards him, your skirts hiked up to allow for faster movement. “Thank God I found you. We have to go, now!”

He grabs your hand, pulling you into a shadowy doorway. “Y/N, what are you doing here? It’s not safe!”

You cup his face in your hands, your eyes blazing with determination. “I couldn’t leave without you. The mob is heading for your family’s estate. We need to get you out of the city.”

Charles feels a rush of love for you, even as fear grips his heart. You, a baker’s daughter, risking everything to save him. “And what of you? Your family?”

“They’re safe,” you assure him. “Papa closed the bakery and they’ve gone to stay with relatives in the countryside. But you ... Charles, they’ll kill you if they find you.”

He knows you’re right. His family name, once a source of pride, is now a death sentence. “Where can we go?” He asks, his mind racing.

“I have a plan,” you say, tugging him back into the street. “There’s a farmer who owes my father a favor. He’s agreed to hide us until we can secure passage to England.”

As you hurry through the streets, the sounds of the mob grow louder. Charles can’t help but look back, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what he’s leaving behind.

“Charles, focus,” you urge, squeezing his hand. “We’re almost there.”

Suddenly, a group of revolutionaries rounds the corner ahead of you. Their eyes lock onto Charles, recognition dawning on their faces.

“Aristocrat!” One of them shouts, pointing an accusing finger. “Seize him!”

“Run!” Charles yells, pulling you in the opposite direction. You flee hand-in-hand, weaving through the narrow streets as shouts and footsteps echo behind you.

“This way,” you pant, yanking him down an alley. “I know a shortcut.”

You lead him through a maze of backstreets, the angry voices growing fainter. Just as Charles begins to hope you’ve lost them, you emerge onto a main road … and straight into the path of another group of revolutionaries.

“Halt!” A burly man with a tricolor sash shouts, leveling a musket at Charles.

Charles pushes you behind him, shielding you with his body. “Please,” he says, raising his hands. “We mean no harm. We’re just trying to leave the city.”

The man’s eyes narrow. “You’re Leclerc’s boy, aren’t you? The one who’s been helping nobles escape?”

Charles feels you stiffen behind him. He’d kept his activities secret, even from you, to keep you safe. But now ...

“Yes,” he admits, straightening his spine. “I’ve been helping innocent people escape persecution. If that’s a crime, then I’m guilty.”

The man’s face twists with rage. “Traitor to the revolution!” He spits. “You’ll pay for your crimes against the people!”

As the man raises his musket, time seems to slow. Charles is acutely aware of your rapid breathing behind him, of the sweat beading on his brow, of the hammering of his heart.

“No!” You cry out, trying to push past Charles. “Please, he’s a good man! He’s helped people, saved lives!”

“Y/N, don’t,” Charles pleads, holding you back. He turns to face you, drinking in the sight of your face, committing every detail to memory. “I love you,” he says softly. “In this life and the next.”

The words trigger a flash of memory — or is it déjà vu? Charles has a sudden feeling that he’s said those words before, in another time, another place.

The moment is shattered by the deafening crack of the musket firing. Charles feels a searing pain in his chest, and then he’s falling, the world tilting sideways.

“Charles!” You anguished scream seems to come from far away. He feels your arms around him, cradling his head in your lap. “No, no, no. Stay with me, my love. Please!”

Charles tries to speak, but only a wet cough comes out. He can taste blood in his mouth. The pain is fading now, replaced by a spreading numbness.

“I’m sorry,” he manages to whisper. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Tears stream down your face as you bend over him. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re a hero, Charles. My hero.”

He wants to tell you how much he loves you, how meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to him. But the darkness is closing in, and he can feel himself slipping away.

As his eyes flutter closed, Charles has a strange sensation of déjà vu. He sees flashes of other lives — ancient Rome, plague-ridden Genoa — where he loved you and lost you. Or did you lose him?

With his last breath, Charles makes a silent vow. Somehow, someway, he’ll find you again. In the next life, you’ll get it right. You have to.

The world fades to black, but Charles isn’t afraid. He knows this isn’t the end. It’s just another beginning.

You hold Charles’ lifeless body, your sobs echoing in the suddenly quiet street. The revolutionaries stand awkwardly, some looking ashamed, others defiant.

“What have you done?” You cry out, your voice raw with grief and anger. “He was a good man! He helped people!”

The man with the musket shifts uncomfortably. “He was an aristocrat,” he mutters, but there’s less conviction in his voice now.

You look up at him, your eyes blazing through your tears. “He was a human being,” you say fiercely. “And you murdered him.”

As the reality of what they’ve done sinks in, the crowd begins to disperse. You’re left alone with Charles, cradling his body in the middle of the street.

“I’ll find you,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “In the next life, my love. I promise we’ll be together again.”

As night falls over Paris, you sit vigil over Charles’ body, your heart broken but your spirit undefeated. Somewhere deep inside, you know this isn’t the end of your story. It’s just another chapter in a love that spans lifetimes.

London, 1942

The steady tick of the clock on the mantle seems to echo through the small London flat as you pace anxiously, your eyes darting to the window every few seconds. The air raid sirens have been silent for days, but the tension in the city remains palpable. It’s been weeks since you’ve heard from Charles, and the knot of worry in your stomach grows tighter with each passing day.

A sharp knock at the door makes you jump. Your heart races as you rush to answer it, hope and fear warring within you. But instead of Charles’ warm smile, you’re met with the solemn face of his fellow RAF pilot, James.

“James,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. “What is it? What’s happened?”

James removes his cap, twisting it in his hands. “May I come in? I’m afraid I have some news about Charles.”

The world seems to tilt on its axis as you step back, allowing James to enter. You lead him to the small sitting room, your movements mechanical, as if you’re watching yourself from a distance.

“Please,” you say, gesturing to a chair. “Sit down and tell me everything.”

James perches on the edge of the armchair, his discomfort palpable. “There’s no easy way to say this. Charles’ plane was shot down over the Channel three days ago. We ... we haven’t found any survivors.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, driving the air from your lungs. “No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “No, that can’t be right. Charles is too good a pilot. He promised he’d come back to me.”

James leans forward, his eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Charles was one of the best pilots I’ve ever known, but the Jerries caught us by surprise. There was nothing he could do.”

You sink onto the sofa, your legs suddenly unable to support you. “Tell me what happened,” you demand, your voice stronger than you feel. “I need to know everything.”

James nods, taking a deep breath. “We were on a routine patrol over the Channel. Everything seemed quiet, and then suddenly the sky was full of Messerschmitts. They came out of nowhere, diving out of the sun.”

He pauses, running a hand through his hair. “Charles ... he was incredible. He managed to take down two of them before they could even react. But there were just too many of them.”

You close your eyes, picturing Charles in the cockpit of his Spitfire, his face set with determination as he faced impossible odds. It’s an image that both comforts and devastates you.

“I saw his plane take a hit,” James continues, his voice rough with emotion. “He was trying to draw their fire away from the rest of us. The last thing I heard over the radio was him saying, ‘Tell Y/N I love her. In this life and the next.’”

A sob escapes you at those words, so achingly familiar. “He’s said that before,” you murmur, more to yourself than to James.

“I’m sorry?” James asks, leaning closer.

You shake your head, unsure how to explain the strange sense of déjà vu. “It’s nothing. Please, go on.”

James nods, though he looks at you curiously. “His plane went down fast after that. We searched for hours, but with the weather and the waves ...” He trails off, leaving the grim implication hanging in the air.

“So there’s still a chance?” You ask, clinging to a shred of hope. “If you didn’t find ... if there’s no body, he could still be out there, right?”

The pity in James’ eyes is almost unbearable. “Y/N, I know it’s hard to accept, but the chances of survival in those conditions ... it would take a miracle.”

You stand abruptly, pacing the small room. “Then I’ll believe in miracles,” you declare fiercely. “Charles is strong, and he’s a survivor. He wouldn’t leave me, not like this.”

James rises, reaching out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I understand. Charles spoke of you often, you know. He loved you more than anything in this world.”

“Loves,” you correct him sharply. “He loves me. Present tense.”

James nods, not arguing. “Of course. I’m sorry, I should go. Is there anything you need? Anyone I can call for you?”

You shake your head, suddenly desperate to be alone. “No, thank you. I just ... I need some time.”

As you show James out, he pauses at the door. “Charles was more than just my commanding officer. He was my friend. If you need anything, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

You manage a weak smile. “Thank you, James. That means a lot.”

As the door closes behind him, the flat seems to grow impossibly quiet. You lean against the wall, feeling as though you might shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

Your eyes fall on a framed photograph of Charles, taken just before he left for his last mission. His smile is radiant, his eyes full of life and love. You pick up the frame, tracing his features with a trembling finger.

“You promised,” you whisper to the image. “You promised you’d come back to me.”

A memory surfaces, unbidden. Charles, laughing as he spun you around in the park on your first date. “You know,” he had said, his eyes twinkling, “I have the strangest feeling I’ve known you forever.”

You had felt it too, that inexplicable sense of familiarity, of coming home. “Maybe we knew each other in a past life,” you had joked.

Charles had grown serious then, cupping your face in his hands. “If that’s true,” he had said softly, “then I’m certain I loved you just as much then as I do now.”

The memory is too much. Your knees buckle, and you sink to the floor, still clutching the photograph to your chest. Sobs wrack your body as the full weight of your loss crashes over you.

“Come back to me,” you plead between gasping breaths. “Please, Charles. Find me again. In this life or the next, just find me.”

As you kneel there, lost in your grief, a strange calm settles over you. Deep in your soul, you feel a certainty that this isn’t the end. Somehow, someway, you and Charles will find each other again.

You have to believe it. It’s the only thing that will get you through the long, dark nights ahead.

Berlin, 1961

The cold November air bites at Charles’ face as he paces along the western side of the Berlin Wall, his breath forming small clouds in the dim light of dawn. His eyes scan the imposing concrete barrier, searching for any sign of movement on the other side. He checks his watch for the hundredth time, willing the minutes to pass faster.

“Come on, Y/N,” he mutters under his breath. “Where are you?”

As if in answer to his plea, a small pebble arcs over the wall, landing at his feet. Charles’ heart leaps as he bends to retrieve it, unfolding the small piece of paper wrapped around it.

I’m here, the note reads in your familiar handwriting. Same spot. Be careful.

Charles moves quickly to a section of the wall where a drain pipe creates a small blind spot from the watchtowers. He pulls out a compact mirror, angling it to catch a glimpse of the other side.

“Y/N,” he whispers urgently. “Can you hear me?”

“Charles!” Your voice comes back, barely audible. “Thank God. I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

“I’ll always come for you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Are you alright? Did anyone follow you?”

“I’m fine,” you assure him. “I was careful. But Charles, we don’t have much time. They’re planning to move me to Moscow next week. This might be our last chance.”

Charles feels his stomach drop. “Moscow? No, we can’t let that happen. We have to get you out of there tonight.”

“How?” You ask, a note of desperation in your voice. “The security has been tightened since the last escape attempt. There are patrols everywhere.”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, his mind racing. “I have a contact in the American sector. He might be able to help. But Y/N, it’s risky. If we’re caught ...”

“I know,” you interrupt. “But I can’t stay here anymore. I can’t keep pretending to be loyal to a system I despise. And I can’t bear to be separated from you any longer.”

His heart swells at your words. “I feel the same way. Okay, listen carefully. Meet me back here at midnight. Wear dark clothes and bring only what you can carry in a small bag. I’ll have everything else ready on this side.”

“Midnight,” you repeat. “I’ll be here. Charles ... I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says softly. “More than you could ever know. Be safe, Y/N. I’ll see you soon.”

As Charles turns to leave, he’s struck by a sudden, overwhelming sense of déjà vu. He’s had this feeling before when talking to you, as if your souls have known each other across lifetimes. Shaking off the strange thought, he hurries away to set the plan in motion.

The hours crawl by as Charles makes preparations. He meets with his American contact, secures false documents, and plots the safest route to the western sector. As night falls, he returns to the wall, his nerves on edge.

Midnight comes and goes. Charles waits, every muscle tense, straining to hear any sound from the other side. Five minutes pass. Then ten.

“Y/N?” He whispers urgently. “Are you there?”

Silence answers him. Charles feels panic rising in his chest. Something’s wrong.

Suddenly, the night is shattered by the sound of shouting and dogs barking. Floodlights blaze to life on the eastern side of the wall.

“No,” Charles breathes, horror washing over him. “Y/N!”

He presses himself against the wall, desperate to hear something, anything. The chaos on the other side grows louder. Then, cutting through it all, he hears your voice.

“Charles!” You cry out. “Charles, help me!”

Without thinking, Charles begins to climb the wall, heedless of the danger. He has to get to you, has to save you.

“Stop right there!” A gruff voice shouts in German. Charles freezes, realizing he’s been spotted by a guard on the western side.

“Please,” Charles begs in German, “You don’t understand. There’s someone over there who needs help. I have to-”

His words are cut off by the sharp crack of gunfire from the eastern side. Charles’ blood runs cold.

“Y/N!” He screams, no longer caring who hears him. “Y/N, answer me!”

But there’s no response. The night falls eerily quiet, broken only by the sound of hurried orders being given in Russian.

Charles slumps against the wall, his mind refusing to accept what his heart already knows. You’re gone. He was too late.

Hours pass in a blur. Charles remains by the wall, numb with grief and shock. As dawn breaks, he hears someone approaching from the western side.

“Mr. Leclerc?” A voice says softly. It’s his American contact. “I’m so sorry. We ... we heard what happened.”

Charles looks up, his eyes red-rimmed and hollow. “Tell me,” he says hoarsely.

The man sighs heavily. “She was caught trying to reach the wall. There was a struggle. The guards ... they didn’t hesitate to use lethal force.”

Each word is like a knife to Charles’ heart. “Did she suffer?” He asks, dreading the answer.

“It was quick,” the man assures him. “If it’s any consolation, our sources say her last words were about you. She said, ‘Tell Charles I’ll find him again. In this life or the next.’”

Charles closes his eyes, a single tear rolling down his cheek. Those words ... why do they sound so familiar?

“Mr. Leclerc,” the American says gently, “it’s not safe for you to stay here. We need to get you out of Berlin. There will be questions, investigations.”

But Charles barely hears him. His mind is reeling, flashes of memories — or are they dreams — flooding his consciousness. Ancient Rome, plague-ridden Genoa, revolutionary France, war-torn skies over the English Channel. In each scene, he sees your face, hears your voice promising to find each other again.

“This isn’t the end,” Charles murmurs, more to himself than to the confused American.

“I’m sorry?” The man asks.

Charles stands, a strange calm settling over him. “Nothing,” he says. “You’re right. We should go.”

As they walk away from the wall, Charles makes a silent vow. He will live, he will remember, and he will find you again. Somehow, somewhere, in another life, you will have your chance at happiness.

The Berlin Wall may have separated you in this life, but Charles is certain now that your souls are bound across lifetimes. And no wall, no war, no force on earth can keep you apart forever.

Abu Dhabi, 2025

The roar of engines fills the air as Charles crosses the finish line, clinching his first Formula 1 World Championship. The crowd erupts in cheers, but Charles barely hears them. His eyes scan the barriers, searching for one face among thousands.

As he brings his Ferrari to a stop, he sees you pushing through the throng of celebrating team members. Your eyes meet, and suddenly everything else fades away. Charles leaps from the car, not even bothering to remove his helmet as he runs towards you.

“We did it!” He shouts, sweeping you into his arms and spinning you around. “We actually did it!”

You laugh, tears of joy streaming down your face. “You did it, Charles! I’m so proud of you!”

He sets you down gently, finally removing his helmet. His hair is matted with sweat, his face flushed with exertion and excitement. To you, he’s never looked more handsome.

“No,” Charles says, cupping your face in his hands. “We did this together. I couldn’t have done any of it without you.”

Before you can respond, he pulls you into a passionate kiss. The world around you explodes with camera flashes and cheers, but neither of you notice. In this moment, you’re the only two people in the world.

As you finally break apart, Charles rests his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he murmurs. “In this life and-”

“And all the others,” you finish, a strange sense of déjà vu washing over you.

Charles pulls back slightly, his brow furrowed. “You feel it too, don’t you?” He asks. “Like we’ve said these words before?”

You nod, a bit dazed. “It’s strange. Sometimes when I look at you, I get flashes of ... I don’t know, other times, other places. But it’s always us, always together.”

A grin spreads across Charles’ face. “Maybe we’re soulmates,” he teases, but there’s a hint of seriousness in his eyes.

“Charles! Y/N!” A voice calls out. You turn to see Fred Vasseur approaching. “Sorry to interrupt, but Charles has to get weighed.”

Charles nods, then turns back to you. “Wait for me?” He asks.

You smile, giving him a quick kiss. “Always,” you promise.

As Charles is whisked away for obligations, you find yourself lost in thought. The strange feeling of familiarity, of a love that transcends time, has been with you since the day you met Charles. You’ve never mentioned it to him before, afraid he’d think you were crazy.

The podium ceremony is a blur of champagne and cheers. Charles’ radiant smile never wavers as he hoists the trophy, but his eyes keep finding you in the crowd. When it’s finally over, he makes a beeline for you, ignoring the clamoring reporters.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, taking your hand.

You raise an eyebrow. “What about the press conference? The team celebrations?”

Charles shakes his head. “They can wait. Right now, I just want to be with you.”

Hand-in-hand, you sneak away from the track, laughing like teenagers as you dodge team members and journalists. Charles leads you to his car and soon you’re speeding down the winding roads of the Emirati capital.

“Where are we going?” You ask, the wind whipping through your hair.

Charles grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’ll see.”

As the sun begins to set, Charles pulls off onto a small dirt road. It leads to a secluded hilltop overlooking the valley below. The view is breathtaking, the entire landscape bathed in the warm glow of twilight.

“Charles,” you breathe, taking in the scene. “It’s beautiful.”

He comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Not as beautiful as you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck.

You turn in his arms, struck once again by the intensity of his gaze. “What are we doing here, Charles?”

He takes a deep breath, suddenly looking nervous. “Y/N, do you remember the day we met?”

You smile at the memory. “Of course. I was lost in the paddock and you offered to help me find my way.”

“The moment I saw you,” Charles says softly, “it was like ... like coming home. Like I’d been searching for you my whole life without even knowing it.”

Your heart races as he continues. “And ever since then, I’ve had these ... dreams, I guess. Flashes of other lives, other times. But always with you.”

“Charles,” you whisper, hardly daring to believe what you’re hearing. “I’ve had them too. I thought I was going crazy.”

He shakes his head, a look of wonder on his face. “Not crazy. Just ... connected. In a way I can’t fully explain.”

Charles takes your hands in his, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on your skin. “I don’t know if it’s past lives or parallel universes or just some cosmic coincidence. But I do know this: in every life, in every version of reality, I love you. And I want to spend the rest of this life, and all the ones that come after, loving you.”

Your breath catches as Charles drops to one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. “Y/N,” he says, his voice thick with emotion, “will you marry me?”

Tears blur your vision as you nod emphatically. “Yes,” you manage to choke out. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

Charles’ face breaks into a radiant smile as he slips the ring onto your finger. He stands, pulling you into a kiss that feels like coming home and embarking on a new adventure all at once.

As you break apart, both of you laughing and crying, a sense of rightness settles over you. Whatever strange connection you share, whatever cosmic forces have brought you together time and time again, you know that this — right here, right now — is where you’re meant to be.

“I love you,” you say, looking into Charles’ eyes. “In this life and all the others.”

“And I love you,” he replies, holding you close. “Always and forever.”

The future stretches out before you, full of promise and possibility. And though you don’t know what challenges it might bring, you’re certain of one thing: whatever comes, you’ll face it together.

Just as you always have, and always will.

[sixx-sixx-sixx]

LADY BRIDGERTON - Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader (smut)

Summary: Reader has been married to Anthony Bridgerton for too long, it feels, although it has only been a few years. In that short time, not only has he only touched her naked body once, but he comes home most nights smelling of sweat and another woman’s perfume. Lady Whistledown has caught wind of this, and the gossip sends Lady Bridgerton over the edge. Anthony takes the time to give his wife exactly what she’s asking for.

Warnings: smut; badly written smut lol; infidelity; arguments about infidelity; possibly out of character anthony; I’ve only watched season 1 of Bridgerton; breeding kink; unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it but this is a married couple); female reader/use of she/her pronouns; as always, proofread to the best of my ability

“Do you wish to make a fool of me?” Anthony leaned down to whisper in his young wife’s ear, a firm hand grabbing her elbow as he interrupted her conversation with a young man from Russia, or Hungary. He didn’t pay much mind to the boy so much as the woman who bore his last name, fully aware of the way she had been subtly flirting with many men that night. Taking count of the glasses of bubbles she had — she was nursing her fourth flute, Anthony had decided it was enough.

Don’t make a scene.

Lady Bridgerton felt an intense urge to strike her husband across his cheek, how dare he accuse her of making a fool out of him. All evening she had overheard whispers of Anthony’s name from nasty gossipers. The young Bridgertons had been the central characters in the latest edition of Lady Whistledown. Rumor has it that Lord Bridgerton had continued an affair with a certain singer, without bothering to hide it from his young wife. Even worse? Lady Bridgerton knew, as they all knew, and never seemed to let the truth affect how she presented herself to those around her.

“Would you like me to answer that truthfully, my dear husband?” She turned her gaze towards him, her eyes alight with a burning fury towards the unfaithful man she had devoted her life to. She jerked her arm away from his grip and started to lift the glass to her painted lips. Anthony grabbed the dainty piece of glass and shook his head, “I think you’ve had enough. It’s time for you to go home.”

A bitter laugh escaped her mouth before she could stop it, as a few heads turned to observe the titular couple. “If that is your wish, Mr. Bridgerton.” She turned on her heel and started to make her way out to the cold air, cursing herself for leaving her coat in the carriage. She didn’t even bother to wait for her husband to catch up as she informed the valet they would be leaving.

The carriage ride to the estate wasn’t anything special. She would sit and seethe in silence during the ride, her eyes burning a hole through Anthony’s forehead as he sat across from her. The argument began once the couple was behind the safety of their bedroom door, standing in front of each other with defenses up. “We have been married for two years, Anthony! Two years and the only time you have touched me was on our wedding night. Yet every night you come home, to OUR bed, smelling like some whore’s perfume! I am left to listen to the ton gossip about MY empty bed!” She nearly hissed the words to punctuate her accusations. Anthony had never seen such an outburst from the young woman, she had never spoken to him like that before. She was standing before him, the drinks she had at the ball fueling her anger and simultaneously allowing the anger to sober her head.

“I know that I wasn’t who you wanted to marry, I understand that this was just a beneficial arrangement for you. But I expect that as the woman who now holds your family name, who will one day bear your children, that you could at the very least respect me!” She was angry that he had just stood there and watched her yell, but at the same time, she wouldn’t let him get a word in.

“You cannot expect me to be a dutiful wife and lady if you refuse to grant me at least the tiniest shred of dignity. You, sir, make a fool of yourself, I am merely seeking that same kind of attention you seek from Siena.” Her voice dripped with sickly sweet venom as she spat the woman’s name.

Anthony allowed the woman to speak her mind on his infidelity, finally admitting to himself that he had been unfair to her. He frequently came into their room in the middle of the night when he expected the woman to be asleep. In the beginning of the marriage, he had at least tried to hide the evidence, changing his clothes before he climbed under the blankets next to her. Now, she was accustomed to him laying down beside her without even taking off the shirt that was stained with Siena’s stage makeup and that reeked of her pungent perfume.

“I do not understand, Anthony. I can come to terms with a loveless marriage, but I am so exhausted by knowing you’re giving her that kind of attention, and I have remained loyal to you despite the obvious signs of your affair-“ her rant was abruptly cut short when Anthony floated over to her, his hands gripping her cheeks with fervor as he crashed his lips to hers. Taking only a moment to stand in shock, she pressed her lips back against his, her hand reaching to grip onto the front of his overcoat. Desperately reaching for more, trying to edge him closer to their bed but ultimately allowing him full control over her mind, body and soul. She let out a disappointed whimper when his lips parted from hers, his face inches from her own.

“What is it that you want from me, woman? You wish for me to touch you the way I touch her? Or do you believe my hands to be too stained?” She hated how close his lips were, desperately trying to reach forward as he spoke his mind. She didn’t really care how improper the words sounded as they came from his mouth, because she DID want him to touch her- not just touch, she wanted him to fuck her the way he fucked his mistress.

She took a moment to find her words, not expecting her confrontation to lead to this moment. “Anthony, I am your wife. All I want is for you to- to fuck me the way a husband fucks his wife.”

Understanding that he had a year’s worth of missing passion to make up for, and seeing that deep down he had no other choice than to obey the woman before him, he easily obliged. In this moment, Siena didn’t exist to him. He was purely focused on making sure his duties as a husband were thoroughly taken care of. Tonight, he would go to sleep smelling of his wife’s soft scent, making sure to cover the woman in marks of his affection.

Little time was wasted in getting their clothes off. A mess of hands clashing together to try and undo buttons and layers and loops, the couple grasping at each other as though they were desperate for the other as a life source.

Anthony paused for a moment to admire his lady’s body in the soft candlelight, letting his hands first run over the delectable curve of her hips, trailing up her sides before settling on her supple breasts.

“I’m sorry that I have spent so long torturing you, making you only imagine my hands touching you like this. I promise, my lady, I will do a much better job at attending to whatever it is you wish from me.” Anthony promised as his eyes stayed locked with hers. Her pupils were blown wide, and he realized he didn’t even know what color her irises were meant to be. He told himself he’d be a better husband to her after this, wanting to ensure her place in society as his wife. He’d fuck her full of his seed tonight, and every night after that, to make sure that Lady Whistledown could never accuse him of neglecting his wife’s desires again.

“Please, my lord, please--“ Lady Bridgerton sounded deliciously desperate, and it excited Anthony in a way that he had never experienced in his years-long affairs with Siena. It spurred him to plunge his cock deeper into his wife, his hand pushing her thigh down to her shoulder as he positioned her to angle himself deeper. She would probably think about the pressure against her cervix for the rest of her life, praying to God that she’d be able to experience this side of her husband for the rest of their lives together.

“What is it that you want, Lady Bridgerton? Tell me with words, my love, I want to hear you say it.” In this close position he could make sure she could look into his eyes to see he was genuine in this moment.

She was surprised at his stamina and determination tonight, focused more on her body than chasing his own release. A complete contrast to their wedding night, she felt like he treated the consummation as a chore. This was a much, much better experience. She had lost count of the times he had made her cum tonight, and the ways he had coaxed her orgasms from her.

“Anthony- Christ! Please don’t stop, want you to fuck me full til i’m round with your child-“ her voice was ragged and on the verge of giving out after not holding back a single sound. She didn’t care how pathetic she sounded begging for what seemed like the bare minimum from her husband.

Anthony leaned down to capture her lips in a messy kiss, reaching down to grab her hand that was tangled in the sheets beneath her. He caught any noises that escaped her, the sounds muffled against his own mouth, moving to hold her hand above her head. She clutched at his hand and whimpered his name as his hips stilled after a few sloppy thrusts, thick ropes coating her walls.

Anthony stayed put for a moment so as to not waste a drop, pulling his lips from hers before ghosting them over the hammering pulse in her neck. He gently maneuvered her pliable body into a resting position, slowly pulling himself from her and getting up from the bed.

After he had gently cleaned up the mess he had made of the woman, Anthony peppered soft kisses over her stomach as he made his way up to lay down next to her. She instantly curled into his chest and closed her eyes, taking her time in coming down from the cloud she was on. She could feel his fingers gently combing through her mussed hair, the sensation slowly bringing her back to earth.

“Are you alright, Lady Bridgerton?” Anthony spoke softly to not spook her, his arms locked safely around her keeping her pressed to his body. Her lips quirked into a smile and he took notice of the way her cheek dimpled, his thumb moving to stroke over the small impression.

“I am absolutely content, Lord Bridgerton.” She opened her eyes to look up at her husband’s face. Anthony smiled as he kissed her again, a kiss so tender that nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“I may not be the perfect husband, but I vow to do better by you. I will end things with Siena and tend to the parts of you that I’ve been neglectful of.” Anthony made a promise to her after he had pulled away. His wife reached up to grab his hand in hers, moving it to press a gentle kiss to his knuckles before she spoke.

“You can use all of the sweet words that you want, you’ll still have to prove yourself with actions.” She squeezed his hand gently, “But I think this has been good start.”

[scarlet-star-witch]

The moon and his sun (Part II)

Aemond Targaryen x Female Reader

Summary: People would remember their story. Even decades after they were gone, Septa’s would tell young children about the one-eyed dragon prince and his sweet wife as if they were a part of a fairytale, too good to be true for the harshness real life possessed.

Aemond meets a young girl who quickly becomes his most cherished friend and changes the course of history.

Word count: 8.2 K

Warnings: Aegon takes minors to a brothel (but nothing sexual happens), characters get aged up, male masturbation, mutual pining, smut

AN: I am so blown away by the love you all showed for the first chapter, thank you all so much! Hope you enjoy xx

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

~~

Her cheeks hurt from smiling so wide. 

Aemond had been twirling her around the room practically the entire night. She knew he didn’t particularly enjoy dancing, but when she had asked him, he loathed to deny her. 

“Are you having a good name day?” 

“It’s my best one yet.” He smiled. He had woken that morning to her barging into his chambers, demanding her gift be the first one he received that day. Nothing could ruin such an incredible start to the day. 

He raised her hand over their heads and twirled her under his arm again, his own grin beaming at the sound of her delighted laughter. 

She tilted her head back as she spun and Aemond was struck by how happy she looked. She was happy with him, she was carefree with him. 

Despite how his feet began to hurt, or that he knew many pairs of eyes were staring at him, the desire to let go and sit back down was nowhere to be found. He wanted to stay with her. He wanted to continue to make her smile all night long

As she twirled again, her eyes found the head table, smiling to Helaena who was watching the dancers wistfully while her betrothed sat next to her downing another cup of wine. 

She flinched suddenly as she met the hard stare of the Hand of the King. Otto Hightower’s stare was enough to make her feel as though she was burning under such a disdainful look. 

Her shoulders tensed slightly before she found herself being spun again, back into Aemond’s arms. His smile faltered when he noticed her own smile dimmed. 

“Are you alright?”

She forced a mask upon her face, not quite understanding the contempt coming her way from his grandsire, and brought a smile back to her face. 

“I’m fine, just getting a little tired.” 

“Come on, we’ll take a break.” He took her hand in his and guided her back to the table.

Her father smiled at the two of them as they approached. 

“You two look like you’ve been having fun.” 

“We are.” She smiled, taking her seat next to him. Aemond moved to take the empty seat next to her when his mother called out to him. She beckoned him forward with a pointed look and he sighed, promising to find her later as he left her side to make his way back to the head table.

She watched him go with sorrowful eyes, her gaze moving over to Otto and suppressing a shiver at the cold look she received. 

She seemed to shrink in her seat, catching her father’s attention. He followed her gaze, his face hardening, his posture becoming rigid as he noticed the cold glare the Hand of the King was sending his daughter. 

He had never liked Hightower, he didn’t trust the man. He somehow always seemed to take control of the council meetings, proclaiming he knew what the King’s best interests were. He was a snake of a man and he would not let him drag his daughter into his games. 

He placed his arm over her shoulder, portraying a united front, a warning to anyone that would seek to bring her harm that he would deal with them swiftly. He may be the Lord of a peaceful house but that did not mean he did not know how to fight or that he wouldn’t commit whatever violence was needed to protect his family.

She stayed by her father’s side for the rest of the night, sharing looks of mourning with Aemond as he was sequestered to his mother’s side, unable to escape the politicking unfolding at the head table of Royals. 

As the celebration was winding down, most taking their leave for the night, she bid her father goodnight and sulked out of the large hall. 

She knew whatever reservations Aemond’s grandsire had of her would keep him from her, that there was no use in hoping for another moment with him. 

She shouldn’t have been so upset, she had practically the entire day with him and all her previous days, but that somehow didn’t stop the twisting of her insides as the thought of his own family disliking her, of there being some kind of plot to keep her away from him. 

The sound of her name being called made her raise her head, a smile growing instantly at the sight of Aemond waving her over. 

“Where are you going?”

“I was headed to my chambers. I thought the celebration was over.”

Aemond took her hand and pulled her along with him.  “Not yet.”

She smiled along with him, happily following him. As he guided her out of the Keep, her smile began to falter slightly in confusion.

“Where are we going?”

“Aegon said he had a surprise.”

An uneasy feeling began to fester within her. She didn’t particularly like any time she had spent with his older brother. She didn’t trust a single thing about him. Thoughts of the pink dread came to mind and she quickly held back the bitterness that grew. She didn’t want to doubt Aemond, but she had little hope this surprise would be a showing of brotherly love. 

As the two of them snuck passed the gates, a hooded figure waited for them. 

Aegon’s smirk dropped the moment he spotted the two of them hand in hand. 

“What the bloody hell is she doing here?”

“Aegon.” Aemond admonished. 

“I didn’t invite her, I invited you.”

“She’s my friend. She has every right to join us.”

The disdain on his face faltered slightly and soon morphed into a devious smirk, a laugh leaving his curled lips, one that made her stiffen.

“I do hope you enjoy the surprise, My Lady.” He drawled, the sickly sweet tone of his voice making her want to squirm and head back to the safety of her chambers. 

But Aemond’s hand in hers kept her in place, her stride matching his as they followed Aegon. 

The further they ventured from the familiarity of the Red Keep, the tighter Aemond’s grip on her hand became, his suspicions rising as they continued their trek deeper into the streets of Flea Bottom. 

He pulled her into his side as they passed a tavern, the rowdy sounds inside and the groups of drunken men they passed making his body stiffen. 

“Aegon, what are we doing down here?” He called to his older brother. 

No response was given and Aemond grit his teeth in annoyance. He should’ve known better than to trust his brother. 

They came to a nondescript door and Aegon turned to face them, that smug smirk still on his face that made her hand twitch, longing to smack it right off his face. 

“Well, brother, you’re almost a man grown. I think it’s time you get it wet.”

Aemond’s eyes narrowed, confusion twisting his features as a pit of dread began to grow within him. Aegon opened the door and motioned them inside. 

When the two of them stood still in their spot, Aegon rolled his eyes and gripped onto the front of Aemond’s shirt, yanking him forward, his hand still clasped tightly in hers pulling her along with him, the two of them stumbling through the door ungracefully. 

The scantily clad women that filled the room made Aemond’s lone eye widen. He turned to his brother, his face red with both shame and anger. 

“Aegon, why are we here?”

“Don’t be so uptight, Aemond.” His brother waved him off, brushing past them to be welcomed into the arms of a whore he frequented. 

He was quickly guided off to a room, leaving the two of them to remain standing at the door stiffly, their shocked eyes taking in the room before them.

A group of women soon surrounded them, pulling Aemond away from her. 

He tensed as hands ran down his arms and he shook them off, his head craning to catch a glimpse of his friend. He called out her name, but if she gave any response it was drowned out by the tittering laughter of the women in front of him.

“Is she your betrothed?”

“We can help you, teach you how to please her.”

“We’ll make you a God, My Prince.”

Aemond’s face twisted in disgust at the filth they began to spout, shrugging off their wandering hands, flinching as a hand landed on his thigh, slowly beginning to creep upwards.

“Don’t touch me.” He snapped, his heart beginning to race as a dreadful feeling overcame him. 

He remembered it well, what it was like to not be in control. He remembered what happened the last time he had felt this helpless, wanting to scream but knowing no one was listening, no one caring about his discomfort. His scar flared with pain at the memory and he winced, pushing the woman who was trying to crawl into his lap away from him.

He called out her name again, panic seeping through his tone. 

He stumbled over his own feet in his haste to escape the gaggle of whores that tried to tempt him. He pushed them out of his way, one goal in his mind, one face he desperately needed to see. 

Across the room, he spotted her, his chest tightening as he saw the discomfort on her face as many pairs of hands tangled through her hair and pulled at her dress. 

“You’re a pretty little thing.”

“Just imagine when your tits come in, you’ll put all of us out of work. The men will be lining up to take a turn with you.”

“Don’t worry, Honey. We can prepare you so it won’t hurt too much when your old husband beds you.”

The whores’ words made her stomach clench and she squirmed under their hands that attempted to get her out of her clothes. 

The feeling of lips caressing her neck made her flinch, a small squeak of surprise escaping her before she could even fully realize what was happening. 

“Get off her.” A stern voice spoke.

She let out a stunted breath as she realized it was Aemond. She reached out and within a second, he hauled her up and wrapped her under his arm as he pushed their way out of the brothel. 

A ragged breath left him as the stench of perfume finally lifted, the debauched sounds of the pleasure house muffled and distant as the door closed behind them. He looked down at the girl under his arm and a bolt of worry shot through him at the sight of her blank stare.

A low hum rang in her ears, her body trembling slightly as it tried to make sense of what had just happened, of what could have happened. 

“Hey, look at me, please.” His pleading voice came through and she slowly raised her head, her gaze meeting his worried eye. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what he was planning. I never should have trusted him.” He rambled, his own voice wavering slightly, his trembling hands moving to cup her cheeks. “I swear to you, I never would have come if I had known.”

“It’s ok.” She breathed out quietly. 

He sighed, the fear on her face still evident. 

“Are you alright?”

She nodded wordlessly and he winced, the gesture so unconvincing he quickly wrapped her in a tight hug. 

“I’ll take you back to the Keep.” 

She looked down the darkened alley fearfully, the thought of making her way through the streets of Flea Bottom so late had dread settling in her stomach. 

“It’s ok.” Aemond assured her, taking her hand in his, noting the unease in her eyes. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise.” 

They began to walk, the silence between them stifling, something so unfamiliar to the inseparable pair. 

“I’m sorry.” She began quietly. “You don’t need to- you can stay if you wish. I don’t want to ruin your night.” 

Aemond stopped in his tracks, his lone eye wide with horror as he looked at her in complete shock.

“I don’t- no! I didn’t want- this wasn’t-” He was at a loss for words. He blew out a long breath, cursing Aegon profusely in his head. “I don’t want to… do what Aegon does.” He explained vaguely, unable to bring himself to speak of his brother’s depravity in front of her. 

The insinuation of him acting like Aegon, of sullying himself with the same debauchery that brought his family shame made his stomach twist. He never wanted her to see him like that, he never wanted her to think he would ever act like his brother.

Aemond ran a hand through his hair. “Fucking twat.” He mumbled under his breath. He wanted to throttle Aegon 

A small giggle met his ears and he looked at her, slightly bewildered by the small upturning of her lips he saw, so unlike the fear he had seen etched in her eyes just seconds before. 

“I’ve never heard you swear.”

He let out a small noise of surprise, unsure if she was truly smiling or if it was a ruse to placate him.

“So unbecoming of a Prince.” She jested and he let himself laugh, her sarcasm, her humor so like the girl he knew that it was enough to ease his worry. 

He liked his arm through hers, holding her closely to his side as they began to walk again. 

“Did this ruin your name day?” She asked after a few moments of silence.

He looked over at her thoughtfully. His day began with her, her excited smile beaming as she demanded he open her present, her at his side loyally all day. No one had ever been so attentive to him, not even on past name days. 

“No.” He answered honestly. Nothing could ruin the content she gave him, the feeling of being wanted and needed that surrounded him when she was around was stronger than any blow of shame Aegon could deliver.

Neither of them spoke of that night, the both of them too embarrassed by what they had seen and heard to say anything about it. 

Though the seeds of lust were planted. 

As the years passed and they grew older, their childhood innocence dissipating into adult desires and longing, it became harder to deny what was between them. The looks that passed between them were no longer the shared smiles of childhood friends, they were the looks of longing that stirred the shared hunger that grew steadily with each passing day.

After that night, she loathed to think of her friend, her Aemond, venturing back there with Aegon, indulging those whores, laying with them, letting them touch him, his own hands greedily touching every inch of their bodies. The thought of him laying with another was like a lance to the heart. 

The same dread plagued Aemond. 

He made himself sick thinking of his friend, the girl he always simply considered to be his, indulging one of the many suitors that ogled her.

Aemond thought of what those whores had told her, that she would have to lay with a husband leagues older than her and endure the lackluster and, most likely violent, attempts to produce an heir. 

The thought had his insides twisting. The thought of any man with their hands on her sent fury racing through him. 

As they grew, he couldn’t help but find his thoughts of her drifting to ones that would be considered less than innocent, not thoughts one should be having of a dear friend. 

He couldn’t help but admire her curves, the dip of her cleavage she had no trouble showing in the low cut gowns she wore around the Keep. It drove him crazy. 

It was becoming more and more common that he would wake, his thoughts racing of images of her lingering from his dreams. He would roll over, imagining she was laying next to him in his bed, tangled within his sheets, her sweet smile his first sight of the day. 

He had no time to feel guilty as his hand ventured below his sheets, as he found his hard length that was more often than not standing at attention to the thought of her. 

He would let his eye close, imagining her hand taking his place, of her sweet mouth taking him in, of the praises she would give him as he took her over and over, the sound of her delectable moans and pleas for him. 

His mouth would part with panting breaths as he thought of the pleasure he could give her, of the pleasure he longed to give her and the pleasure she would bestow upon him. 

His hand would speed as he neared his end, his body writhing among his silken sheets, his head fallen back against his pillow as he pictured her face, what it would look like as he brought her to climax.

The thought, as always, was his undoing. 

His lips parted with a long groan, the raspy call of her name becoming familiar to the walls around him. He panted as he expelled the last spurts of spend on his stomach, his limbs feeling weak as he let his fantasy dissipate. 

He didn’t know how much longer he could continue without having her in his arms. He didn’t know how he could endure meeting her gaze with such filthy thoughts of her in his mind. 

Later that day, as he caught her eye as she sat with the ladies of the court, he felt his face flush, the images of her he conjured in the privacy of his chambers rushing back to him. 

The warm smile and small wave she sent him only incensed him further, leaving him to contemplate for a few long moments whether he should neglect his training with Ser Criston to return to his chambers and deal with the heat she had unknowingly spread throughout his body that was undoubtedly weak for her. 

He was doomed to her.

The longer he repressed his growing feelings for his best friend, the more he couldn’t get her off his mind. 

He woke early one morning to avoid passing her by, knowing with one mere look at her he would be a distracted, bumbling mess for the rest of the day. He was determined to get through at least one training session without his thoughts drifting to her. 

He had been successful for a short time, managing to best Ser Criston time and time again, his focus purely on the weapon he wielded with precision. 

Until he heard that familiar laugh, a sound so purely wonderful, it almost knocked him off his feet. 

His gaze wandered around the training yard before they found her, as he always would, her arm linked through Helaena’s their smiles wide as they watched the training commence.

As if sensing his gaze on her, she turned her head, her eyes meeting his. She smiled, the sight blindingly beautiful. He sent her a wave, hoping the blush on his cheeks wasn’t as severe as it felt. 

The sound of a throat clearing beside him broke him out of his daze and he turned sharply to meet the knowing smirk of Ser Criston.

“Shall we continue or are you done for the day?”

The knight’s tone implied he knew exactly what thoughts had been running through the Prince’s mind the moment he saw his dear friend. Anyone with eyes and half a working brain could see the affection the Prince and the Ixtal girl held for each other. 

Aemond grit his teeth, sending a glare the knight’s way as he spun his sword effortlessly, a flagrant display of his prowess with his beloved blade. 

“I am more than ready to continue, but if you require a break I will gladly find another opponent to knock into the dirt.” 

Criston snorted and raised his sword, giving the young Prince he had valiantly trained a pointed look. 

With one last gaze up to the woman on the balcony, the sly wink she sent him giving him all the drive needed, he raised his sword and struck a deadly swing towards his mentor who scrambled to block it. 

His heart raced with adrenaline. The wink she had sent him igniting the fire in his blood, only incenting him to display his power to her, determined to win, determined to show her his strength. 

He wasn’t a boastful man, he left those frivolities to his older brother, but when it came to her he suddenly didn’t recognize the feelings within him, the desires that had taken root that seemed to unravel him to his most basic senses. 

Up on the balcony she repressed a shiver as she watched Aemond fight with an ease that made her body heat and caused her mind to conjure things her Septa would’ve slapped her for ever thinking as an unmarried woman.

“He’s very good.” Helaena commented, not noticing the desire now lingering in her friend’s eyes. 

“Yes, he is.” She murmured, attempting to shake herself from thoughts of him handling her in the delicate yet deliberate way he did his sword.  

Later that night, as she and her father joined the Targaryen family for dinner, she couldn’t get her mind off of what she had seen in the training yard. She couldn’t help the nervous flutters that erupted within her as she took her seat in between Helaena and Aemond.

It was her usual seat, she had spent too many dinners to count by his side, but for reasons she couldn’t quite understand - or refused to - she suddenly felt bashful in her friend’s presence. 

The smile he sent her in greeting made her stomach flip.  

She could barely concentrate on anything besides his presence beside her. She was sure she was about to crumble into a puddle as his fingers brushed against hers as he passed her the jug of wine. 

She took greedy swallows of the drink, hoping it would dull her sense enough to withstand the looks he sent her every now and again, his smile warm, his gentle affection subtle but enough to undo her completely. 

As Helaena engaged her in conversation, telling her one of the many stories of her beloved twins, she let her thoughts of Aemond dissipate, smiling softly to her dear friend who glowed with her love of her children. 

She listened intently, allowing her nerves to retreat to the shadows of her mind. 

As conversations around the table continued, she let her eyes wander curiously. She turned her head, catching Aemond’s gaze already on hers. He straightened and abruptly tore his eye back to the plate in front of him, though the blush that grew on his cheeks was undeniable. 

A shock of excitement rushed through her at his reaction, suddenly realizing she wasn’t as hopeless as she had thought. She thought back to all the times she had caught Aemond looking at her, all the times he sought her out before anyone else, all the times he had abandoned whatever it was he was doing just to see her and spend a mere moment together. 

She suddenly wondered if it meant as much to him as it did to her. 

She wondered if her dear friend was caught in the same haze of longing she found herself drowning in. 

~~

The slamming of the door made her flinch, the book she was reading slipping from her hands. She sat up straighter when she noticed Aemond standing rigid, his chest heaving with heavy breaths as he tried to rein in his anger.

“What happened?”

“My fucking grandsire.” He seethed. 

She remained seated and silent, allowing Aemond to vent out his anger. 

“They want to betrothe me to some Baratheon girl.” He explained as he began to pace erratically. “They’re bringing her to court for the Summer Feast. They expect me to do my duty with that plain-” He stopped himself abruptly before any insults could pass his lips. 

She frowned, setting her book aside. 

“Tell them you don’t wish to marry her.”

Aemond hummed, the sound more bitter than she had ever heard it. “My grandsire isn’t as agreeable as your father.” 

He knew the Lord of Ixtal had vetoed a number of requests for his daughter’s hand at her request. He didn’t want his daughter shackled to a man she did not desire. 

He wished his family was as caring to his needs as hers was. 

“Well, I guess you need to find the love of your life before the Baratheon girl arrives.”

Aemond looked over at her plainly, clearly not in the joking mood. 

“This is not funny.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t see what the issue is. Tell your family this isn’t what you want.”

“They don’t care about what any of us want. If they did, Helaena wouldn’t be forced at Aegon’s side.” 

She frowned at the mention of her dear friend and what she had to endure with her drunken leech of a husband. 

“I’m running out of time.” Aemond sighed, running a hand over his face. “I’ve been able to keep them at bay the past few years, but they’re becoming more incessant, I can’t stall any longer.”

The thought of being forced to marry some girl he didn’t know, a girl who would never compare to the woman in front of him, the woman he longed for, desired before he even knew what it meant to desire a woman, left him feeling hollow. 

“I’m sorry. I wish I could solve this for you, but I don’t think your mother would take too kindly to my meddling.”

Aemond huffed out a laugh at the thought. He looked at his friend curiously, noting how cavalier she found the idea of marriage.

“Isn’t your father putting pressure on you to marry?”

“Not exactly. He’s hinting at the time coming for me to go back home, but no plans have been made just yet.”

Her words made his stomach twist. The thought of her leaving King’s Landing, of not seeing her everyday, was unfathomable. 

“They don’t have a courtship lined up for you?”

“No. Who I marry is my decision.”

“Is it that easy?”

She breathed out a small laugh at his disbelieving tone.

“Ixtal isn’t as conservative as King’s Landing. We don’t force people to be together, we don’t expect women to wait to find pleasure until marriage. We don’t expect a fruitful marriage to come from sexual disappointment.”

Aemond blushed at her words, his eyes darting to the wall behind her, unable to keep her gaze as she spoke of things his mother would’ve slapped their wrists for.

“My mother said marriage is for the sake of duty. To unite strong houses.”

She scoffed, sending her friend a pointed look of disappointment.

“You’re forced to marry for every reason other than your own happiness. It’s barbaric.”

“It is duty.”

“So you just accept it? Being tied to someone you don’t love for the rest of your life?”

“Some grow to love each other.” He said quietly, though he couldn’t deny how undesirable the customs, one he had known his entire life, sounded to his own ears.

“So if you’re betrothed to a Baratheon daughter, you’ll accept it?”

“No, of course not.” He answered immediately, his tone sharper than he intended. 

“Why? You’ll have to marry someday. Soon I’ll need to go home and find myself a nice man to settle with.”

The reminder of his time with her coming to an end made it feel as though his heart was turning to stone. Her previous words about Ixtal’s customs suddenly came screaming back to him and his hands tightened into fists, fury rising within him at the thought of men touching her, kissing her, making love to her.

“Aemond.” 

The sound of that beautiful voice saying his name made him look up, the anger inside him washing away at the knowing look on her face. She stood from her seat and took slow steps towards him until she was only inches away, making his throat tighten at the closeness he was constantly longing for. 

The unspoken things between them bubbled to the surface, reaching a boiling point as they looked at each other in the dim light, the topic of conversation causing tensions to run high, threatening to reveal true emotions that were kept hidden for so long.

“Eventually, you’ll have to marry, and so will I. We’ll have to do our duty, as you say.”

He swallowed thickly, his eyes unable to hold her gaze any longer, falling onto his hands that clenched and unclenched as waves of anxiety passed through him.

She sighed heavily and stepped past him, moving towards the door. She loved so many things about Aemond, but his refusal to feel anything but anger, his stubborn nature to speak his true thoughts, angered her.

“I don’t want you to go back to Ixtal.” He admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. But she heard him. She would always hear him. 

“Why?”

“Because you belong here.” He told her, his gaze rising to pierce into hers, his tone becoming sharp once more. “Because the thought of you going home, marrying some man that doesn’t deserve you, makes me furious. The thought of you-” He stopped abruptly, looking away from her, his hands clenched tightly.

“Would you be jealous knowing another man has touched me?”

Aemond’s jaw clenched as he turned on his heel and moved towards her so they were now chest to chest. He had to fight hard to keep his composure, to not close his eyes in bliss at the feeling of her body against his.

“I would kill every man that dared to touch you.”

A devious smirk grew on her lips, one he wanted to kiss away desperately. 

“Would you feel jealous if-”

“Yes.” She answered immediately, shamelessly. She smirked at the way his breath hitched, as the hunger in his eye grew tenfold. “I don’t share.”

Aemond almost choked on his breath at her insinuation. 

Her arms slithered over his shoulders, pulling him in closer to her, close enough they could feel the other’s heart racing wildly. 

“You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.” She whispered and Aemond could’ve sworn he would melt into the floor into a puddle of nothing. 

Her lips crashed onto his and he was powerless against her touch. He kissed her back with a furious desperation, revealing every ounce of desire he held for her. He needed her like the air he breathed and it was never more evident in the way his lips molded against hers, in the way his tongue tangled with hers, how his hands held to her hips tightly, ensuring she couldn’t part from his side. 

Her nails scratched against the leather of his doublet as she kissed him fiercely, hoping he would understand, hoping the hunger in her kiss and touch was enough to make him realize she didn’t want anyone but him. 

His mind was blank save for thoughts of her. 

The duty he had adhered to his entire life, the duty that had been instilled in him since his birth, didn’t exist. His duty to his mother, to his grandfather, didn’t exist as he kissed her. 

He knew then and there that he was going to marry her, his only friend, the beautiful girl that had his young heart racing, or he wouldn’t marry at all. 

They pulled away from the kiss, the both of them breathing heavily, neither parting too far from the other. Aemond smiled softly and let his forehead rest against hers. 

“I won’t marry her.” He breathed out in promise, his chest tightening pleasurably as he saw the smile that grew on her kiss swollen lips. 

“Iksā ñuhon, issa prūmia.” He whispered and placed a soft, slow kiss to her lips once more. 

Her mind was racing. She knew few Valyrian words but none sounded familiar. 

“What does that mean?” 

Aemond just smiled and kissed her again, content to stay in that moment for the rest of his life. 

The gravity of their actions, the realization that anyone could have walked into the library and saw them, could have told his mother or his grandfather, didn’t catch up to him until he had parted from her side and settled into bed for the night. 

He lay rigid, his mind racing, his heart heavy with guilt. 

If anyone had seen them it would have ruined her reputation. She’d be painted as a whore. The court would speculate what other Lord she’d kissed or opened her legs to. 

Aemond couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t ruin her. 

The next morning, every ounce of bliss he had felt with her lips against his was tainted with worry. He found her in the gardens, his cold stare softening as he spotted her sitting with Helaena and the twins. 

The sight of her with little Jaeheara in her arms made his heart stop for a moment. He swallowed thickly, desperately moving past the emotions, the longing, the sight stirred within him. 

“Good morning, brother.” Helaena greeted him brightly. 

He just nodded briefly in greeting, his posture stiff as his gaze landed on her. 

“Can we talk?”

Her smile faltered slightly and she placed the babe in her arms back to her mother before taking his offered arm, Aemond guiding them away from prying ears. 

“Is everything alright?”

“What happened yesterday-”

“Do you regret it?” She asked stiffly, her worry evident as her grip on his arm became lax, as if she suddenly wanted to be anywhere but by his side. 

“No! Never.” He responded frantically, his eyes leaving hers to take in their surroundings, making sure no one would hear them. “Yesterday was… it was long overdue.” 

“Then why are you so tense?” 

“No one can know.” 

She sighed heavily, her shoulders sagging. 

“The rumors that would spread if people saw us together would ruin you.”

“I think you’re giving the court too much credit.” She responded flippantly, her annoyance growing at Aemond’s worry. “Are you going to let me have a say in this or are we going to let the court decide our future for us?”

He spoke her name softly in exasperation, sparking her anger. She wrenched her arm out of his and walked a few paces to gain distance from him. She couldn’t think clearly so close to him. 

“If you weren’t being truthful yesterday then tell me. Spare me the lies and tell me how you truly feel.” 

“I wasn’t lying.” He assured her, his heart beginning to race in fear for where this conversation was headed. He loathed to hear the doubt in her voice. “I refuse to marry the Baratheon girl, I only want you.” He told her, his voice much quieter than before. 

The fire in her eyes dissipated, her fears subsiding and she stayed still in her spot as he stepped towards her, closing the distance between them. 

“We must keep this between us for now, at least until my father is more lucid and I can take our betrothal to him. I cannot let my grandfather know of this. He will only find a way to speed up a wedding to the Baratheon girl or any other Lady in the Keep.” 

She looked up at him with a smirk, her heart jumping at his words. 

“Betrothal?”

Aemond flushed and cleared his throat, as if the words were tightening his throat.

“Well, yes… is that not what-”

“I wouldn’t be opposed.” She spoke in an overly saturated tone, interrupting his nervous words. He looked at her fiercely, his lone eye betraying every ounce of lust, longing, and annoyance he held for her games.

“You will never stop vexing me, will you?”

“I am certain you love it.” She teased, his swiftly pink turning cheeks all the answer she needed from him. She straightened, clearing her throat, as she moved back to the matter at hand. “So we must sneak around?” 

He looked regretful, his hands gently taking hers. 

“I know it’s not ideal.”

She shrugged. “If that is the only way I can have you now, then I can live with it.”

Aemond smiled, a breath of relief leaving his lips, the heavy weight on his chest dissipating quickly. 

A smirk grew on her lips, one he knew signaled mischief. 

“So, that means we’d have to remain as friends in public.” She surmised, stepping closer to him, much too close, as their chests brushed against each other. “But behind closed doors…”

Aemond swallowed, his eyes fluttering closed as she leaned in, his lips brushing against his ear as she spoke. 

“...I can do what I want with you.” 

Aemond cleared his throat, desperately trying to keep a hold of what little control he had left. 

“When we are behind closed doors, which we are not.” He reminded her, sounding exasperated, making her laugh softly. 

She loved the effect she had on him.

“Meet me in my chambers tonight.” She whispered and placed a soft, barely there, kiss to his cheek, before leaving his side and making her way back to Helaena, leaving him with pink cheeks and a racing heart.

Night couldn’t have come fast enough. He spent the day training vigorously, Ser Criston taking the brunt of his pent up anticipation with round after round of sparring. His knee bounced impatiently throughout dinner, paying no mind to his mother’s attempts to bring him into the conversations he couldn’t bother to focus on. 

He waited, long, torturous hours, until the sun had finally set and night descended on the Keep, the halls clearing as Lords, Ladies and their servants alike settled in for the night. 

He paced in his room for longer than he would ever admit, his nerves bubbling low in his stomach, his hands twitching as he longed to reach for a goblet of wine to ease his worries. 

He knew if his mother were to ever discover he had entered a lady’s chambers in the dead of night, let alone a Lady he was undeniably close to, she would slap him until he found his sense once again. 

Though no amount of worry, no guilt over his allegiance to his duty could ever be enough to overtake what he felt for her, what he had unknowingly felt for so long. 

With only his desire to see her, he purposefully strode across his room and pushed at the stone wall, silently thanking his brother for drunkenly revealing to him the secret passageways years ago.

 It only took a few minutes until he found her door. With a deep breath, he stepped in slowly, his eyes immediately finding her as she sat at her vanity, brushing her hair. His breath caught in his throat when he noticed the sheer slip she wore as she readied herself for bed. 

He cleared his throat, feeling a blush quickly and involuntarily growing on his cheeks as her eyes rose to meet his. 

“You came.” She smiled. 

“Of course I did.”

She got to her feet, taking slow steps towards him, as if he were a wild animal that would spook if she got too close too quickly. She knew he had a strong sense of duty, of what behavior was becoming of a princely man, it had been instilled in him by his family since he was born.

She knew he was breaking every single one of those lessons by being in her room so late at night. 

“You know we do not have to sneak around. You can wait to court me as is proper.” She reminded him, hoping to ease his discomfort.

“I can’t take that risk.” He spoke smoothly, as if it didn’t even require a second thought. “I can’t take the chance that we will be denied. I can’t lose you before I’ve even had you.”

She smiled, her heart jumping in anticipation.

“So take me while you can.”

Barely a second later Aemond had crossed the room, his hands cradling her face gently as he crashed his lips to her, kissing her passionately, revealing every ounce of his desire for her. 

She moaned happily against his lips, the noise forcing his body to tighten, every shred of control he thought he possessed gone in an instant. 

They kissed as if they had been lovers for years, as if he had been gone for so long and they couldn’t wait to reunite as only lovers could. 

His hands greedily roamed the curves he had admired for years. Her hands wove into his silken hair she had braided many times as children. The innocence was gone between them, no childlike wonderment left, leaving only their loving, lustful desires. 

They pulled away after a few minutes, the both of them breathing heavily, their swollen lips turning upwards into a shared smile as their eyes met, the pure bliss in his lone eye matching hers. 

He moved in again, desperate to get her lips back on his, but her hands on his chest stopped him. His brows furrowed, a strike of worry lashing him as he gazed at her in concern. 

“I want to see all of you.” Her quiet voice spoke, her delicate touch framing his face, her fingers slowly canting upwards to trace the edge of his scar. 

He flinched instinctively, having never felt the touch of another there, but almost instantly calmed as he stared into her eyes that reflected nothing but love and trust. 

She had been there for him through everything, she had been the only one to see him for more than his title, to respect him as he was, simply a boy trying to find his place in the world. 

He let out a shuddering breath, allowing his forehead to rest against hers as he built up the courage he needed to reveal his eye to her.

“Every part of you is beautiful, Aemond. I have known that for years and I certainly won’t think differently tomorrow.” She reassured him, her velvet voice melting the hardened resentment within him. 

He swallowed against the tightness in his throat and reached up slowly, willing his hands not to tremble as he grasped the patch over his eye. Slowly, he pulled it off, revealing the sparkling sapphire in place of his eye. 

A small laugh left her, scaring him momentarily until he saw the delight in her gaze rather than mocking cruelty as he had suddenly feared. 

“I can’t believe you really listened to me.” 

He smiled bashfully, remembering a conversation years ago, when she had suggested he put a ruby in place of his eye to resemble that of a dragon eye. He never told her when he took her suggestion, feeling too silly to divulge such a thing. 

“Well, I’m sorry it’s not a ruby.”

She shook her head, her smile never faltering. “Why did you pick a sapphire?”

“It reminded me of the sea.” He stated simply, watching with bashful satisfaction as her smile smoothed out, her expression one of touched devotion.

He always told her she reminded him of the calming and luxurious blue waves that crashed on the shores of Ixtal, the waves he had become mesmerized by the day he met her. 

“It’s beautiful.” She breathed out, feeling unable to take her eyes off the shining gem that made the man in front of her look even more ethereal than he already did. 

Her eyes found the gem between every breathless and fiery kiss, somehow lingering as he pulled his clothes off, remaining, as if for comfort, as she bared herself to him for the first time. 

It was a beacon to her, the guiding light in the ferocity of a storm, calming every one of her nerves as she was reminded he was hers just as she was his, as they always had been. 

She felt as though there were sparks igniting under her skin as he touched her. She felt herself melt under his delicate fingers that curiously roamed her body. She felt beautiful under his awed gaze as he eagerly took in every inch of her, as if she were a divine entity he would soon bow to. 

The second a gasp escaped her as his fingers found the wetness between her thighs, Aemond’s eye snapped to hers. He watched with wonderment as she vocalized her pleasure, pleasure that was because of him. 

She smiled against his lips as he suddenly kissed her with a might she had never felt before. She was powerless against his hungry lips. 

He let out a stunted breath at the sound of the whine that fell past her lips as he curled his finger, seeking out her pleasure, eager for it as if it were his own

The two of them never let their eyes wander too far from each other. He watched with a wide, amazed gaze as he brought her to her peak with his fingers, delighting in the pain he felt as her nails dug into his shoulder as her hips grinded against his hand. 

The sounds of her soft moans echoed in his ears, alighting his body with furious desire. 

As he settled between her legs, he looked down at her, his eyes posing his silent question, the devotion she saw from the beauty of his lone eye, that she felt from the gentle touch of the tips of his fingers that traced lines up and down her thighs, was enough to have her nodding immediately, fiery want washing over her. 

He never dared to look away from the depth of her eyes as he delved inside her for the first time. 

He watched her carefully, whispering apologies as she gasped, the foreign feeling making her tense slightly. His gentle caresses, his soft kisses down the length of her neck, the words of praise he gave her, were enough to soothe her, her body relaxing, the pain fading.

He began to thrust slowly, the pleasure soon becoming too much and his eye fell closed as he shuddered from the delirious pleasure of being inside of her, but he forced himself to bring his gaze back to her, taking in the starry eyed look in her own. 

Their hands never left each other, Aemond gripped her hips as if he feared she would soon be forced away from him, her hands gripping onto his shoulders to ground herself in the wake of the unexpected pleasure he brought her. 

His nose brushed against hers as he kissed her softly, his hips finding a rhythm that made them both sigh in delight. He felt his limbs tremble, his resolve slipping the longer he stayed inside her, quickly realizing nothing in his entire existence would ever compare to this, to being with her, the woman he loved more than life itself. 

“Aemond.” She breathed out, pleading for him, pleading for this never to end, to never lose each other. 

He squeezed his eye shut briefly, his movements becoming more controlled as he let his body adjust to the ecstasy he was feeling. 

“You’re mine.” He panted, his hand moving to cup her cheek, his thumb caressing her soft skin affectionately. “You will always be mine.” 

She nodded frantically, a moan falling past her lips as he found the spot inside her that made stars explode before her. 

The noise had Aemond gritting his teeth, a desperate growl sounding and he knew this would be ending soon. 

He quickened his movements, his hips rolling rapidly against hers. He choked out a surprised sounding moan as her legs wove around his waist, pulling him in deeper. 

“Oh, Gods, I can’t-”

“Give it to me, Aemond. I want it. I want all of you.” She replied frantically, the growl in his voice causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. 

She watched, entirely raptured by the sight before her as Aemond’s jaw dropped, his eye widening before slamming shut, his body trembling as a loud, desperate sounding groan fell from his lips. His hips became erratic, his movements becoming sloppy as he came hard, untethered from his control.

She gasped at the feeling, the tingling in her spine spreading until it burst, a cry of his name sounding in the room as she fell off the edge just a moment behind him. 

Aemond slumped against her, his chest heaving alongside her own, his shuddering breaths cooling the skin at her shoulder where his head rested. 

She ran her hands over his muscled shoulders and found their way into his hair and she began to run her fingers through his mussed strands gently as she found her way back to her body.

After a moment of quiet as their breathing relaxed, Aemond raised his head, his eye finding hers, her gaze locking onto the gem once more, their shared smiles bashful. 

A soft giggle sounded from her and Aemond wanted to melt into her all over again. He rested his head against hers, placing a soft kiss to her lips. 

“I love you.” He whispered in the quiet room. 

“I love you.” She told him with just as much honesty and devotion as had sounded in his voice. 

~~

ENJOY! XX

[wynnyfryd]

@messessentialist told me her friend called to rant about spotting an “upsettingly beautiful boy in a tj maxx” and i vomited 1200 words about it, enjoy

—

fic idea: chrissy and eddie work together at tj maxx. one afternoon a guy comes in who’s so hot that it kinda just pisses eddie off? bc like, who does this gorgeous asshole think he is??? coming in here and popping his hip at eddie’s counter, like, does he even know how uncomfortable it is to start chubbin’ up in skinny jeans?? that shit chafes!

so eddie gets all flustered and responds by getting an attitude with the guy because he has zero chill (and also because the dude’s iced coffee is sweating a ring all over eddie’s counter, and so help him if his manager gets on his ass one more time about keeping his station tidy—)

“did you need help finding anything else today?” eddie sneers. “coasters, perhaps?”

upsettingly hot guy looks confused for a second before he follows eddie’s pointed glance at the plastic starbucks cup leaving a cold puddle on the laminate, and then he sneers right back; adjusts the ray bans nestled in his perfect honey brown hair and looks eddie up and down — long, slow, one eyebrow lifting in subtle elitist disapproval.

“what?” he snorts, “hot topic wasn’t hiring?”

oh, fuck you very much!

so eddie’s all ‘nemesis acquired’ and holds the biggest grudge of all time. makes a sworn enemy and a boogeyman out of the guy, turns him into urban legend, starts blaming the Upsettingly Beautiful Man for every little thing that goes wrong in his life — at work, at home, at band practice; no place is safe from the dreaded UBM.

“he’s not a fucking cryptid!” gareth snaps one day at rehearsal, chucking a drumstick at eddie’s head. “just track him down and bone already so you can shut the hell up!”

“wouldn’t he just talk about him more after they have sex?” jeff wonders, to which gareth narrows his eyes and raises his second drumstick as a threat.

meanwhile, eddie’s cute coworker chrissy (who he’s become surprisingly good friends with, to the point of referring to her as his work wife) gets a girlfriend. robin’s sooooo pretty, and soooo nice, and sooooo tall, eddie, did you know how tall she is?

yes, chrissy, he’s supremely aware of a stranger’s five-foot-eight-and-a-half stature now, thank you.

“you have to meet her!” chrissy gushes, bouncing up onto her toes.

eddie hangs another shirt. “you have to chill.”

“hey!” she pouts, pixar princess cute. “you wouldn’t tell the sun to dull its shine, would you?”

“i mean, i would, but i doubt the giant ball of plasma cares what i want.”

“okay, whatever, eeyore.” she rolls her eyes but she physically can’t stop beaming even as she does it, and eddie finds himself melting under it — some sort of radiant area attack coming from the apples of this girl’s cheeks, he swears, because the next thing he knows he’s agreeing to go to rando new girlfriend’s housewarming party this weekend so he can meet her properly.

only he doesn’t get to meet her properly, because when he shows up to the party the two bedroom apartment is packed with people he’s never seen, and it’s loud as fuck in here and he’s sweating through his leather from the six flights of stairs he had to climb to reach the place, so he steps through a sliding door out to the balcony and lo and behold, if it isn’t Upsettingly Beautiful Man looking upsettingly beautiful — positively fucking divine, actually, the last wisps of fuchsia sunset catching the gold streaks in his hair and dotting the tip of his flawless nose. Seriously, does this dude have any flaws? A scar, a birthmark, an unsightly ingrown hair? Eddie can’t even see a single blackhead for fuck’s sake.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer” the dude mutters, turning to look at him, and, “oh, my god, you again?”

“uh.”

“i’ve got a fucking coaster this time,” the guy says, lifting his solo cup and giving it a little shake to point out the cork round sitting underneath it, “so if that’s what you came out here to berate me for, then you’ll have to think of something else.”

“uh,” eddie says again, because he has no idea what brought this on but he’s pretty sure it has shit all to do with him, and pretty boy’s really working himself up now, arms moving in sharp gestures as he paces back and forth on the short balcony.

“not that it even matters if i didn’t have a coaster, because this is my house! i can do what i want with my own fucking stuff in my own fucking apartment, nance, i don’t— uh…”

pretty boy’s face blossoms rose petal red, a heavy blush creeping up his jawline as he catches himself mid rant and folds in on himself, crossing his arms over his chest with a sheepish expression.

eddie’s always had a thing for shepherding.

“i’m listening,” he says, popping a cigarette in his mouth and holding the pack out in offering. “if you care to vent.”

the guy — steve, eddie finds out — tells him all about his controlling ex-girlfriend as they work their way through two cigarettes each, the sun slipping away to reveal a full topaz moon, big and low and close, ripe citrus bending the branch of a tree. nance was a real piece of work by the sounds of it, and eddie feels like an absolute shit for the way he treated steve, who had apparently just gotten dumped the night before they met and had been out shopping for a “please take me back” present.

“like that was ever gonna work,” steve mumbles, ashing over the railing. “pathetic. anyway, sorry i was rude to you that day or whatever.”

“you weren’t.”

“nah, i was.” steve shifts his weight, knocks their shoulders together. “not that you didn’t deserve it.”

“yeahhhh,” eddie agrees, cringing at himself. “sorry.”

“all good. so what’s your story then, huh? who pissed in your cheerios that day?”

eddie blames the alcohol fumes wafting from steve’s cup — a justification that makes perfect sense and would totally hold up in a court of law — for what he says next.

“honestly? you.”

steve’s face is so cartoonishly offended that eddie busts out laughing, eyes crinkling, head thrown back.

“oh, so you’re just an asshole,” steve nods sagely. “first cute guy to flirt with me in six weeks is a lunatic. love that for me.”

“no, i—” eddie laughs, “okay, we’re coming back to how you think i’m cute, but i just meant, uh-”

oh, fuck it. eddie’s never been good at holding his cards close to the chest. more of a 52 pick up kinda guy, historically, and why change now?

“you were so gorgeous it, like, genuinely upset me for a second,” eddie admits, running his tongue over his lip. he stubs out his cigarette; turns to look right at steve. “like, uh, like cuteness aggression or some shit.”

steve mirrors his posture, leaning an elbow on the railing, nearly chest to chest. “so you are crazy,” he smiles.

“that’s correct.” eddie swallows.

steve moves in to close the gap. “good crazy?”

“fun crazy, so i’m told.”

“i’m gonna kiss you if that’s cool.”

“very”

the kiss tastes like ripe citrus

[inarvii]

₊˚.- NEEDLES AND PINS

Patience breeds success. However, Dr. Veritas Ratio's patience has successfully run thin when it comes to the Intelligentsia Guild's new professor.

OR

Dr. Ratio hate reads about you.

wc - 3.4k

A/N - Basically a Dr. Ratio character study, inspired by the Deftones song Needles and Pins.

Veritas Ratio was a Needle. 

At least, that is what he saw himself as. He was sharp, precise, and calculated. One had to be in this world full of ignorant minds. 

His known prestige amongst scholars was by no accident. Every equation, formula, and theory engraved into his mind was nothing he didn’t want there. His reputation at the Intelligentsia Guild was by no fault other than his own. And he liked it this way. 

So when Dr. Veritas Ratio’s curiosity peaks, he will seek out information regardless of what stands in his way. It just so happens that the rumor of a Genius Society member abandoning their ranking to join the Intelligence Guild not only piques his interest but puzzles him quite a bit. 

Everything Veritas Ratio has ever done—ever accomplished was with intent. That’s just what a needle does. 

And as he reads the passage before him in the worn textbook he fished out of the bookshelves at his university, he intends to figure out your perplexing nature. 

“…and discovered five different constellations that are now crucial to Intercosmic Space Travel, earning the name of the ‘Star Lit Genius’ just after finishing her Associates.”

- Excerpt from Exploring the Starlit Genius

A fool. 

Ratio closes the bulky biography with a booming thud. The echo can be heard bouncing off the walls of his office. 

That is what you were. That is your nature. 

A fool is the only description he can think of as he sharply brings his fingers to his lips. Questions bubble inside him, but the one that escapes himself is, “Why?” 

Why would anyone do such a thing? The mere thought that someone could leave the Genius Society was baffling. Sure, there probably were some that had left, but that had to be Amber Eras in the past. 

It wasn’t ignorance it was foolishness. Perhaps he was right about Genius Society members having a rock up their asses. There was truly nothing that separated them from the mundane, such as himself. They were just as equally subjected to idiocy. 

But could you do such a thing?

You. A scholar blessed by Nous! Given a chance—an opportunity. 

He scoffs, his head jerking to the side as if catching himself in an act. 

He shouldn’t care. 

He doesn’t care. 

He’s over that. 

Ratio sighs and shakes his head. He doesn’t care. You were foolish, that’s all. It was nothing more. 

But who might this fool be? 

Ratio’s cold finger travels around the textbook's hardcover. He quickly flips through the pages. Frustration is evident on his face as his brows furrow the more pages he turns. 

Yet, there’s nothing. 

There’s not one picture of you—the fool—that perplexes his mind. Of course, there wouldn’t be. The Genius Society's “holy” standing wouldn’t allow that. So, he’ll just have to wait for the day he meets the deluded “genius.” 

“Immediately after finishing her Associates, the Star Lit Genius earned funds from the IPC for her findings, causing the young brilliant mind to venture more deeply into the cosmos.”

- Excerpt form Exploring the Starlit Genius

Time had passed and life went on. It had been a month since Veritas’ initial read of your biography. He had learned much. Such as your main fields of anatomy, pathology, chemistry and of course astronomy. Little details of your past are stored neatly in the back of the Doctor’s mind, but he has had no use for it. The new semester had started and as time went on he too started to carry on. Students plagued his mind instead, yet a star glittered somewhere near. 

“Dr. Ratio.”

It’s no voice he’s familiar with. Or maybe one he’s just not accustomed to yet. Most likely a new student in one of his classes.  

He doesn’t even bother to look up. Instead he continues to shuffle through his papers with equations and calculations of the new curriculum that he would soon ignore altogether in his lessons. 

He sighs. “Students are to ask questions during the appointed time.” His voice lacks any interest whatsoever. 

He was tired of students who seemed to think they were special. If anything, the unfamiliar voice is probably a student coming to butter him up before the semester starts to get on his good side. 

“Oh, I’m not a student.” Your voice isn’t familiar, but the syllables that roll off your tongue are ever engraved into his mind. His inner consciousness has read the name so much that he can envision the letters.  

Before he looks up, a smug grin shows on his face. Finally, he could put the foolish mind to the face. It was a gift, really. You, coming straight to his door. You had done all the work for him. 

But then he takes his first look at you. 

Veritas Ratio isn’t one to be rendered speechless, but his surprise is evident. His grin drops at the sight of you. Before, he had imagined that he should have put on his mask of marble to forbid his eyes from the sight of such a foolish person. But now his frustrations were fueled even more by the undeniable fact that a fool could look like…you. 

“Professor Alvarez said you would be the person to go to regarding any Physics textbooks,” you say, and Ratio comes back to reality as your voice vibrates around the large space. You stand in the wide door frame, hands held together in front of you. 

“Ah,” he chokes out. “Our new professor.” He quickly gets up to walk to the bookshelf behind him to rid the sight of you. His steps are light but eager; however, his back stands straight, and his head is held high. This was it? This was the fool he had read about? What a pity, he thinks as he climbs a few steps up the ladder of the bookshelf. Looks wasted on a simpleton. 

Ratio tries to change the topic of conversation while trying not to show his evident surprise. “Say, what does an astronomer have that warrants the need for physics?” He questions. 

You're quick to answer. “Well, the two are connected, I’m sure you’re aware.” 

He is aware—he’s well aware. But he’s also aware of his unwelcomed knowledge of your hatred for anything purely mathematical in any sense, especially physics, which you loathe the most. He even remembers the page clearly in chapter twenty-six, section fou—but that's beside the point. His ever-growing facts about you are a card he cannot yet play. He has only gazed at you for a mere eight seconds. So for now, he will keep his mouth shut. 

“I am,” he says confidently, a slight hint of offense in his voice. “Professors here, however usually tend to their specific fields rather than branching off.” His fingers trace the spine of the dusty books before carefully selecting one and then another. 

“One of my students is infatuated by the correlation of the two. It’s something that I had no interest in during my years of studying.” The sound of you shuffling your feet bounces off the walls. “I’m forced to learn now I suppose.”

“Whatever for? You’re no physicist,” he scoffs.  His hand lingers around a book as he debates himself in his mind. 

“To answer my students' questions, of course,” you answer without a second thought. 

A genius interested in the pursuit of other’s knowledge. Ratio’s frustrations physically manifest in the form of a silent sigh.  An anomaly you were. An Irritating one at that. 

He picks up the book.  

He doesn’t say anything as he descends the ladder—or when he walks to where you stand with an uninterested look on his face. He simply plops the books in your hands with a quick “Here.” Their weight jolts you down briefly. 

“Some of these are limited or editor's copies.” His eyes meet yours for the first time since you came in. “Do try not to dirty them.”

He turns to walk back to his desk, but the sound of your voice stops him. 

“Which is your favorite?”

Ratio turns to walk back to you as he looks you up and down. His fingers fish between the books in your arms, and he pulls out one. It’s encased in golden leather. He lifts it up to hold it out in front of you. 

Your hand grazes the hardcover. You look at it, eying the author. ‘Professor Emeritus.’ You look up at him with a hint of playfulness in your eyes. It makes him uneasy—like the breath has been sucked out of his lungs. But then you have the nerve to smile at him, and he can feel himself getting hot. 

“Thank you,” you say, and you turn away. 

His mind races. His heart beats a bit faster. It’s only when the click of your heels are out of earshot and when the doctor is trying to recover in his desk chair that he realizes he’s forgotten to tell you when to bring them back. 

“...the only way to transcend the limitations of the individual is to have an academic network of mutual learning.”

- Intelligentsia Guild 

He ignores you. 

That’s not to say he doesn't see you. Of course, he does. How could one not see you? It has turned into a game over the past two weeks. He must spot you first to make sure you do not spot him. 

So he does just that. 

He has no use conversing with a Genius Society member turned idiot. He simply gave you those books to help the students you were teaching, nothing more. 

So he carries on with his usual routine of avoiding you. Until, there’s a pile of books with ribbon wrapped around them at his office door. But there’s only three of them. 

Ratio quickly picks up the stack of books and unlocks his office door. When at his desk, he finally notices the note placed neatly between the book and ribbon.  

Thank you for letting me borrow these. They were very insightful. I have saved your recommendation for last. I will bring it back once I have finished it.  

He examines your handwriting—your signature—and how the way you write your A’s and H’s differ from him. 

As Ratio revels in the fact that you took his word at face value, he examines the books. His fingers caress the covers and flip through the pages.  

You made sure not to dirty them. 

“To grow and excel as a Scholar is to reconsider. A Hypothesis that is drawn due to stubbornness and ignorance is a hypothesis from no mind worth listening to.” 

- Professor Emeritus in “Attentive Beings” 

“Come in,” Ratio replies to the three knocks on his study door. This time, he looks up from his reading as soon as he hears the heels click on the polished wooden floor. 

You smile at him—book held in hand. 

He greets you with another disinterested look as he turns his head back to the papers in front of him. “Did you enjoy it?” 

“I certainly did,” you call out. Although he doesn’t look at you, he can hear you walk slowly around his office. He lets out a sigh as he writes down something. 

But then your heels click too close to the round table by the window in the corner of his study, and his mouth grows dry. He looks up as he watches you eye the books he had left open on the table, and put the book you had borrowed down. Your fingernails graze the papers slowly, and you turn the page. 

“You read about me?”

Ratio’s throat closes up at your question as he scurries to organize the files and loose sheets of paper before him just to occupy his hands. He puts a fist to his lips and clears his throat. “I simply wanted to know more about the new Professor who would teach some of my former students,” he affirms boldly. 

“It’s okay.” your eyes lift up from the pages and turn to him with a smile. “I read about you too.” 

He’s not surprised. He shouldn’t be surprised. Any good scholar would do that. But something stirs inside him still. His stomach flips from…excitement. This odd feeling goes unnoticed by you as the doctor quickly covers himself with his swift response “Is that so?” 

“Mhm,” you hum. You grab the book and slowly make your way closer and closer to his desk—to him. “You’re quite the mathematician,” you smile. “…and philosopher.” 

His arms fold and his eyes trail your figure as you approach. 

“So tell me, after reading this thing.” You hold up the book. “What’s your ‘philosophy’ on me?” 

He sits there in silence looking at you. 

“Please, Doctor,” you smirk. “Tell us your verdict on the new professor.” 

He’s still hesitant. But the look you give him is like fire on his skin, and he wants to rid of it. So he speaks. “Fine, if you must know.” He lets out an exasperated sigh. 

“You’re a fool. Through and through.”

“Is that so?”

“The evidence is clear.”

“Do elaborate, Doctor.” 

 He sighs again. What has he gotten himself into? “You’re an astronomer.” 

“That I am,” you smirk. Oh, he hates that smirk of yours. That smile of yours. That face of yours. 

“You’re an astronomer that hates physics.” Ratio stand subtly and makes his was round his desk to you. “Quite absurd actually.” He crosses his arms and you shift your body to look him in the eye. “You have no interest in anything mathematical when math is the foundation of all that ever was and will ever be.” 

“Mhmm.” And there’s that smirk again as you look up at him. 

“You’ve done mounds of research, and any organization would want you.” His voice is booming and stern as if he were lecturing one of his students. “Yet, you pick the IPC of all things to give your work to.” 

You're a star, you blaze. Yet you choose to be mediocre like him. It's infuriating.

You nod, and he takes a step closer to you. His brows furrow in frustration, and his finger points down at you. 

“And the cherry on top is that you’ve chosen to stray from the Erudition and-“

“Leave the genius Society,” you finish. 

Your voice strikes him. He flinches backward and his back stiffens. You’re toying with him. He wonders if it is something he’s opposed to. 

“Is that why you dislike me, Veritas?”

He’s opposed to it, he concludes. He steps back, and his arms go to his chest once more. “Dislike?” He lets out an exclaimed scoff. “I barely know you, Professor.” He lets the last word roll off his tongue like an insult. 

You hold up the book in your hands and read the title to yourself. ‘Exploring the Starlit Genius’ 

“Barely?” You ask. 

“Nonsense,” is all he can claim as he returns to his desk. 

You lean over it, your spread out hands creating a mess of his once neatly placed papers. “You make a conscious effort not to meet my eyes around here.”

Ever the observant one you were. But he denies it. “Our paths must have never crossed,” he explains. 

You tilt your head with a knowing look as you cross your arms. “Don’t lie Veritas.” 

A shiver goes down his spine. He doesn’t know if it's because it’s the first time he’s ever been called a liar or because you’ve just said his first name. It’s been a while since someone called him something other than “Doctor” or “Professor.” At least that's the quick excuse he can come up with on the spot to ease his jittery mind. 

He’s caught. He’s finally caught. So he defends his hypothesis. 

“I don’t like fools,” he states matter-a-factly. “I tend to stay away from them.” 

“But not from me?” 

Oh your tongue is clever. Not as clever as his, he reassures himself. 

“You seem to know a lot about me.” 

He’s red. He knows it. But he cant seem to find something to throw back at you. His quick wit is anywhere but in the present. 

“Is it because deep down you know I’m right?” Your face softens. 

He stays silent. 

“Out of all the literature about me, you’ve chosen that which  is not written by me.” You run your hands across the book's cover and place it neatly before him. “You’ve been reading the books with my name on them but have never picked up the ones that I myself created. Why is that?” You smile, but your face shows genuine perplexity. 

If he has an answer, he doesn’t tell you. He keeps it to himself. However, the question he asks in response is an answer in itself.

“Why did you leave?” His voice is low—broken even. 

Your smile turns into an expression filled with a touch of sadness. “You ask questions you know the answer to?”

“Don't you dare mock me,” he snaps.

“What else are fools good for?”

He’s silent as his lips purse in anger. There are a few beats before he responds. “Teaching.”

Your face lightens in surprise, and your original charming smile returns. 

He wants to know. He yearns to know. But when you finally give him his answer, he knows it will burn like fire. He’ll finally have a reason why the thing he fought so much for was not all it was chopped up to be. The younger years of his life–wasted to appease THEM—all for nothing. Although he had reached a place of contentment, there was a little boy still in him who wanted to keep his former fantasy alive. 

“The Erudition is something that consumes people as do all Aeons. You know this, right Professor?” 

What you say is common sense. He gives you no answer or satisfaction. But he continues to listen attentively. 

“All intelligent minds are selfish to some extent. The genius society is filled with people who will pursue knowledge regardless of the people hurt. This includes themselves.In order to be a person of pure logic—a genius…” You pause for a second. “…you must lack empathy to some extent.”

You turn to meet him, and he swears he’s never seen any eyes more beautiful and full of honesty than yours. “And I have too much.”

And then, at your words, something clicks in his brain. 

Another smile takes over your lips as you face your body towards him. “And I believe you have more than you let on, Doctor.”

He’s in silence. 

He says nothing because he can’t say something. 

You walk around to the other side of his desk where he sits. His eyes follow your ever move while you do so. Your hand unlocks the clasp of your satchel and disappears inside. When it comes out, a book appears before him. 

He takes it in his hands tenderly and then looks at the title. ‘Philosophy of the Stars,’ he reads to himself. Then his eyes wander to the bottom of the cover, and there’s your name printed in gold. He looks up at you expectantly. 

Of course, when his eyes land on your face, your expression is full of glee. “If you wish to learn more about me, I hope you’ll do so through a book with all of my own words.”

You say nothing more as you turn on your heels and leave his office. Leaving Ratio with a feeling of shock and emptiness. 

His hand comes up to his face, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He sits there in silence and realizes…

You are none of what he had made you out to be…

Not a fool. Not an idiot. Not a genius. 

But a kind soul. 

He realizes that he was good enough. That he was not a fool either. Just a young boy who cared. 

His eyes linger on the book you left him— the book that his hands refuse to put down. He opens it to the very first page, and he finds your writing in it and a note that slips out on his lap. 

For the mediocre Dr. Veritas Ratio. 

Your name is signed as elegantly as before. He puts down the book on his desk and picks up the folded note on his lap. 

Feel free to dirty this. But keep it clean if you wish to auction it. It will be worth more with both our names on it, so don’t undersell. It is yours to do with as you please.   

One thing Veritas knows for sure is that this book won’t leave his possession in all his years to come. 

“THEIR silence was deafening.”

- Genius Society–Erudition, Astral Express Data Bank

Dr. Ratio is sharp, precise, and calculated. He considers himself to be all those things; he is a needle. 

But if Dr. Veritas Ratio is a needle, then you are a pin. 

ty for reading. reblogs are appreciated <3

[misserabella]

SICK LOVE

perv! obsessed ellie x fem!reader pt.2

pt1

summary; after catching your best friend ellie in a compromised situation, the two of you leave behind the ‘friend’ status to become a couple. if only you knew there was much more under the surface…

cw; +18 content, really perv!ellie, dark themes, somnophilia, breeding kink, daddy kink, praise kink, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squiring, oral sex (r and e receiving), dom ellie, strap on sex, use of toys (dildo and magic wand), masturbation (r and e), edging, slapping, orgasm denial, cum eating, voyeurism, dacryphilia, dirty talking, hair pulling, knife kink, (mentioned), blood… MINORS DNI OR I’LL COME FOR YOU!

If Ellie was absolutely and sickly obsessed with you…, it sure wasn’t the worse it could get.

Her mind was in a haze since the first time she made you hers. It had been before, but now? It was just fog all over her brain, a fog under your name.

She could only think about you, dream about you, talk about you… It was all you.

And now that you were hers, her whole heart seemed to have been ripped out of her chest. She would love to make a necklace out of it for you, so you and anyone who would try and approach you would know that she was as much yours as you were hers.

But because she could not do that, she had made her personal mission to found other ways to do the same with no… Hanging hearts. So she had to conform with just marking you everywhere. Hickeys on your neck and chest, fingertip bruises on your thighs and hips, bites on your shoulders… She’ll put them everywhere and do them anywhere too, whenever and wherever she had a chance.

At first, she thought that you’d be scared by her possessiveness, but you surprised her yet once again when you’d just let her, loving her lips and marks on your skin as much as she did. She’d drag you to the closest empty classroom in free period just to pin you against the wall and attack your neck in mouth open wet kisses that had you rocking your hips against the leg that she had pushed in between your own, her cold fingertips against the warm skin of your thighs and ass, squeezing . “Looking so pretty today, baby.” she’d say, her breath against the wet of your skin, making you shiver. “Fuck, I love it when you wear this little skirts of yours, got me all wet on my pants.” you’d moan when her hand would leave your skin just to fell harshly against it in a spank. “Love to see all those fuckers watching you, drooling over you yet still unable to get closer to you because they know you’re all mine...” her mouth was intoxicating, her tongue inside your mouth making your eyes roll and pussy throb. “Wear anything you want baby, anything you want.” she’d whisper, her fingertips trailing along your lower stomach just to bump against the hem of your panties and snuck under them, rolling your clit and making your head fall backwards and against the wall she had pinned you to. “I’ll make sure to mark you all up and pretty for them to know that they will never have what they so want.” and then, she’d choke you to stay quiet as she’d eat you out on top of the teacher’s table, sneaking your wet panties in her back pocket for later.

Her obsession enhanced. Now that you were a couple, she didn’t have to hold it in anymore —at least that much…—. She’d sneak in your bedroom in the middle of the night to wake you up with her strap deep inside of you. You’d end up crying on her chest as she would fuck you dumb, filling you up for hours on end and using you as she would use her toy. Then, she’d stay inside, keeping her cock warm and your pussy full for the rest of the night. She’d even use the soft spot you had on her to make you sit on it in your stupid study dates, while napping, watching films…, saying that she wouldn’t concentrate if you didn’t.

She was a sucker for you, always tying up your shoes when the laces would come undone —taking the chance to stare at your clothed pussy—, braiding your hair for you —so she could get a sniff of your sweet shampoo—, putting on your makeup first thing in the morning when you were still half asleep —when she could steal some chapsticks for him to use and taste when she’d miss you— and softly taking it off for you when night time came… —sometimes she’d make you cry it out, fucking it out of you—. Anything she could do for you she would do, that and more.

She would often find herself in your room after telling you that she had to take a quick trip to the bathroom, looking for some new panties and little trinkets for her sweet collection and to touch herself buried in your sheets. She’d dry hump your pillow too, leaving it damp in cum for it to dry. The thought of you sleeping on it that night would have her whimpering in her own bedroom, fucking her fingers into her cunt while watching a bad porn in where the girl’s moans sounded like your own, groans falling from her broken and bleeding lips, for constantly biting down on them. ‘Oh god, baby, so good… shit, you like that? Shit, just like that, fuck, you drive me insane…’

Her photo collection had grown… Really grown. Her favorite new acquisitions were the ones in which she had captured your perfectly used cunt, —your cum dripping out of it and onto your pink sheets— or the ones in which she could see her cock thrusting in your pussy, drool dripping down your chin, since her fingers where down your throat, and chest, neck and tits full of her marks. ‘Yeah, baby. Look at me. Just like that. Stuck your tongue out for me.’

She could not imagine herself nor pussy being away from you for even just a day. And who is it that you want to trick? You couldn’t either. Not when she sounded so fucking pretty every time you rode her, her usually soft groans becoming loud whimpers and moans, hips thrusting upwards in seek of more. ‘Fuck, ah, ah baby, please, please baby harder. Just like that, fuck, yes yes, shit, I love you. Love you so much… I’d do anything for you, baby, fuck, anything. Just let me stay like this, fuck! I’m gonna cum baby, fuck, fuck, fuck…’

Something she loved to do every chance she could get was taste you after cheer practice —something you’ve decided try as of late, and Ellie was all for it—. You had whined about it, saying that you were all sweaty and disgusting and that it wouldn’t taste good, but she wasn’t having it. She had been watching you turn, jump and shake your hips for almost two hours in that fucking little cheer skirt that actually drove her crazy. And she had to say that the splits that you’d do every now and then really didn’t help the throbbing in between her thighs. So, after your head leader had announced the end of the session, you’d find yourself holding for dear life to her hair as she kneeled in front of you, pulling up one of your legs for it to rest on her shoulder as her tongue laped at your soaked pussy, eating you out against the lockers of the girls’ changing room. The scent was stronger after your night practices. The taste? Mind blowing. Additionally, you had to admit that the shower sex after that was enough to make you fall asleep on your way back home. Not that she found it a problem, she loved to carry you to her bed just to kiss your forehead and hug you tighter in your slumber. Watching you sleep would get her so horny sometimes that she couldn’t help herself by dry humping against your ass, hands on your tits as she kissed your neck. She loved it when you would yell at her the morning after about the new hickeys all over your skin —since she always seemed to push it too far those nights—, but she wouldn’t care less, not when your tits bounced like that and your pretty lips called her name over and over again. At the end of the day, she’d have you screaming her name in another type of scenario, and you wouldn’t be that pissed about love bites on your neck.

She also loved to tease you. Pushing your panties aside and fucking you with her fingers while in a gathering with your best friends. Your squirming and tries to not show having her rocking against your ass. Sometimes she’d even drop something under the diner’s table where you’d be eating together to get a taste of your dripping juices, making you almost cum in the spot. Or those movie nights with your group, where she’d have you crying in the nook of her shoulder due to the amount of times she had already made you cum with her fingers, deliciously overstimulating you. ‘Is she okay?’ You’d hear one of your friends ask, and Ellie would just say that you were too sensitive or too scared depending on what type of movie y’all were watching that night.

The best sex came later, when you would follow her to the bathroom and she would fuck you so harsh on her strap your cheek would end up press against the sink mirror, fingers down your throat to make you shut up, since your cries were so loud it almost got the two of you caught… Not that she’d care, just the thought of someone stepping in to her fucking you senseless had her cumming against the back of the strap… Cum that she’d push inside your cunt with her fingers as she pushed your panties back up for it to stay there.

“Be a good girl and I’ll eat it out of you once we are alone, hm?” and she actually would, making you come two more times with just her tongue, leaving you clean.

Something she had started to look into was a little bit more…, darker. She had feared herself when the thought of you bleeding with her initials carved on your skin almost made her faint. Just thinking about you completely to her mercy, all tied up and open for her unable to move, got her unable to sleep for almost a week. She could almost hear your pleads and cries as she fucked into you with already a little vibrator bullet inside.

But the dream you both where living in had to end someday. She just wished it never had to.

That night, the two of you were returning from a day on the Jackson’s pool with Dina and Jessie, your hair still wet since you had been begging her to stay for a little longer, having to pull you out of the water when the sun had gone down and you were shivering, fingers all pruned due to just how many hours you had spent in there. The skin of your cheeks, chest and shoulders was sun kissed, flushed even if Ellie had made sure that you had sunscreen applied every hour. “Woah! Careful babe.” she smiled when you had slipped against the wooden tiles, giggles leaving your lips when her strong arms pressed you against her chest to avoid you falling and hurting yourself.

“Sorry, I guess I can’t help falling for you, Ellie.” she chuckled, your burning skin against her colder one making her slightly dizzy, her pussy throbbing inside her blue short jeans when your nails scratched her chest, doe eyes looking up at her as you bit your bottom lip.

“That’s my line, baby.” she muttered, leaning in ‘till your breaths met, lips brushing and hips pressing against each other. You moaned when her tongue pushed inside your mouth in a hot yet lazy kiss, the hands on your hips sliding down, to your ass, where her fingers hardly dug, squeezing and pressing you against her.

The temperature of the room quickly changed, gasps filling the air with every new kiss that you shared, her fingers tugging on the towel that surrounded you and getting it to fall to your feet. You let out a chuckle that quickly tuned into a moan when her mouth latched to your neck, bitting down hard on the flesh and leaving marks. “Els…” you called out for her, hearing her hum against your skin as one of her legs pushed in between your thighs. “We need to shower.”

“I’ll clean you up baby.” your cheeks flushed when her tongue made a long strip up your neck and towards your ear. “You know I’m good at that.” and you knew what she meant, but you still wouldn’t give in, hearing her groan when you pulled her away from your neck by her hair. “Baby…” her lips tried and go back to yours, but you shook your head.

“I need to go wash up.” her hands pulled on your hips to keep you closer.

“I could wash up with you.” she suggested and you chuckled, shaking your head, to what she whined, almost in pain to have to be away from you for… 10 minutes.

“I’ll be back.” you promised, giving her a little peck on the lips, leaning on her ear so only she could listen to what you whispered. “Keep this warm for me, alright?” she whimpered when one of your hands came down to the crotch of his jeans, giving a light squeeze to her drooling cunt, quickly leaving upstairs and scaping her hands.

Normally, Ellie was pretty patient. Hell, she had been patient with you for years on end, hoping for the day that she got to finally fuck you. But there was something about you after that first taste that had her all hot and bothered. You were like a drug. She’d always want more and more after each overdose. She couldn’t help it, you were all she had ever dreamed of. That’s why she found herself silently sneaking up stairs and straight to her room —which was connected to her private bathroom, where you had eventually brought little bottles of your own shampoos and conditioners for this little occasions where you had to shower at her house—. She had hoped to catch you stripping, maybe even looking for some of her clothes to change into, but never in a thousand years she had imagined this…

You were frozen, completely frozen. Standing in the middle of her room and beside her desk, which’s last drawer was fully open and exposed. She felt her blood run cold. That was supposed to be locked. You weren’t supposed to see what was inside, weren’t supposed to be eyeing her little collection of your naked pictures nor porn magazines with your face glued on top of the model’s. You had seen it all. All the little trinkets she has stolen from you…, all the panties that had misteriously disappeared from your drawers, the new and untouched toys she had bought in hopes to someday use on you: mouth gags, dildos, vibratos, handcuffs…Everything.

“Baby…” she stuttered, your eyes still fixated on the little polaroids and sticky pages of the magazine. It hadn’t been long since the last time she had masturbated to them. Maybe that’s why in a little slip she had forgotten to lock the drawer, the magazine sticking out far enough to catch your attention and leaving you out of words when you’d found her little dirty secret. “Shit.” You had even found her fucking diary, in which she described the dirty things she dreamed of you, that she’d love to do to you… Fucking hell.

She didn’t know what to say to not seem like the creep she was. She had fucked up big time. And now you were going to leave her, you were going to probably call the police and get her in jail with a little restraining order as a welcome gift. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, fuck, you weren’t supposed to see any of this, you weren’t supposed to…” she was trailing off as her feet quickly approached you, trying so hard not to cry that her heart fell to the pit of her stomach when a little whimper came out of your rosy and fully lips. Her eyes widened when she saw the look on your face and state you were in: half-lided and glossy eyes looking up at her, cheeks and ears fully blushed and thighs squeezing and pushing flush against each other. You were supposed to feel disgusted, terrified. And yet there you were, wetter and needier than ever. “Look at me.” the low of her voice almost made you cum, walls clenching and breath hitching.

“Ellie…” you whined when her thumb and index finger harshly took your chin, making your head turn towards her. Your voice was a mere whisper, but it still had her blood rushing to her head… and south.

“Look at me.” she repeated, this time taking her time with every word to make sure you heard the warning on them. It was not a plead, it was an order. You gasped when your eyes met hers, completely fucked out of your brain and feeling dizzy, Ellie made you feel dizzy, the words on her diary had. It was just so much need in them, so many promises of tears and pleasure… Her eyes were just two black holes, pupils blown and breathing slow. “Look at you. You’re getting off on this?” she chuckled, unable to believe any of it. You whimpered when her hand left your chin to grip your neck, pulling you against her chest and caging you against the wall on your back. You were boiling up, almost evaporating when her lips brushed against the conch of your ear. “Did my little secret turn you on, baby? Did that little pussy of yours got all wet while reading my diary?” you moaned when her leg pressed in between your thighs, she could feel the heat of your core against her bare thigh. “Aw of course you did, you love it, don’t you? Love to know just how much I crave you. How much I want to hurt you and make you cry on my cock. Make you bleed… Fuck you all up and pretty for me until you’re nothing more than a hole for me to fuck into, hm?” you nodded, your head falling backwards in a whimper when she pushed upwards and against your clit, making you rut on her. Her lips were all over your neck, sucking on that sensitive spot that got you begging her for more. “Is that what you want, baby? Want me to fill you up on my cum? Use you? Cut you?”

“Fuck, Ellie, yesyesyes please, anything you want. Anything.” she groaned against the skin of your shoulder, biting hard enough to leave a mark. It hurt, badly, but it only made you crave her more. Crave it more. Your hands tangled on her air, her half-lidded eyes on yours, which were fixated on her lips.

“What is it baby? Want a taste?” she leaned in, a smirk on his face. You whined at her teasing, pushing her against you when her lips brushed against yours, still not giving in. She clicked her tongue, the hand on your neck pining you harshly against the wall, making your head bump slightly against it. “If you want something… You just need to ask.” your back arched when her free hand snuck down to your chest, tugging on your upper part of your bikini, making your tits pop out. You gasped at her harsh grip on one of them.

“Please Ellie, kiss me, kiss me…” you craved it so bad it hurt.

“Poor thing. Why don’t you open your mouth for me, hm?” you didn’t wait to follow her words, moaning when her tongue entered your mouth, hips stuttering as you dry humped her thigh. She kissed you to the verge of tears. It felt so good, her right hand on your neck and her left leaving your nipples to slowly stumble down your stomach and slip inside the bottoms of your bikini, which laces she quickly unmade, throwing the piece of clothing aside. Your mouth fell open in a cry when her fingers bumped against your clit, a harsh slap being given to your cunt when her name fell from your lips. Your hips buckled against her hand, the sting bringing new tears to your eyes. “Be good baby, you know that’s not my name, is it?” you shook your head.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry daddy…” a smirk tugged on her lips, and she rewarded you with her fingertips back on that sensitive spot, when your mouth fell open in a whimper taking the chance and spitting inside of it.

“Now swallow.” you gratefully did, gasping for air when the hand on your neck pushed in your mouth, fingers making you whimper. “What a beautiful mouth you have…” you moaned when she thrusted her fingers in your throat. And you took it, tongue swirling and sucking on them as you rocked your hips against her fingers and thigh. “Yet no one has yet showed you how to properly use it.” you felt like crying when she took a step back, leaving you squirming and in need of her touch, which came back, harshly than ever to make you sink to your knees, fingers in between your locks. “You know your safe word, right?” you nodded as you heard the ruffling of her jeans and underwear, zipper and button unbuckled leading the denim to fall and pool around her ankles, her soaked underwear came shortly after. She looked into your eyes as she stepped out of them. “Good… If it’s too much just let me know, okay sweetheart?” You moaned affirmatively when she parted her legs, letting her soaked folds and throbbing clit show, her slick staining her inner thighs. “Open.” she didn’t have to ask twice, lips parting ready to receive her on your mouth, which was watering at the thought of a taste of her, of swallowing her cum. She cursed when you kitten licked her from her hole to her clit, the tangy taste of her arousal making your eyes roll to the back of your head and your hands eagerly push her hips closer, head leaning in to completely take her as you pushed one of her thighs over your shoulder, just to whimper when she tugged harder on your hair, not letting you get any closer. “Such a fucking slut hungry for pussy.” she chuckled, loving just how needy you looked to have her on your mouth. “I bet that’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t that right? Want me to fuck that little and pretty mouth of yours, hm?” you nodded, a ‘yes, please daddy, want your pussy so bad…’, leaving your lips, what made her click her tongue, tongue slightly gracing her core when you pushed it out of your mouth. “Then fucking take it.” you were moaning when she thrusted her hips against your mouth, the hand in your hair pushing you against her cunt, nose buried in her pubic hair as your nails dug on her thighs. You couldn’t breath. “What is it, baby? Isn’t this what you wanted?” you whimpered when she started to grind onto your tongue, picking up a pace that had you short on air. But the feeling of her cunt fucking your mouth had you only begging for more of that harsh treatment, making you impossibly wet. You were crying in pleasure and pain, tears running down your cheeks as you sucked on her clit. “Aw, you crying?” the sight of your tears only made her buck her hips harder and faster against your face. “I couldn’t care less.” Ellie could feel her hole twitching around your tongue every time you fucked it deep inside her. “Yeah, baby, shit, just like that… What a dirty girl…” one of the hands that stood on her thighs travelled down in between your legs, fingers circling your clit in search of a release that you so desperately wanted. “Are you touching yourself?“ you nodded against her pussy, your nose bumping against her clit and a whimper leaving your lips when she gave you a harsh slap. “Such a desperate little bitch… Who told you you could make yourself cum, huh?” she pulled away from your mouth and you gasped for air, which didn’t actually last long since there was already a hand around your neck as she kneeled with you.

“I’m sorry daddy!” you quickly apologized, taking your hand away from your soaking pussy.

“Yeah, you’ll be.” next thing you knew? Your back was making impact with her bedsheets, getting a moan out of your lips when her body pressed against yours, lips latched to your neck.

“Fuck!” you screamed when two of her fingers harshly pushed inside of you, fucking you as she sucked on your nipples, fully erect.

“Is this what you wanted, hm? Tell me baby, is this what you wanted? My fingers fucking your brains out and making you cum? I’m sure you do, you dirty whore…” you thighs trembled when she hit that sweet spot in your gummy walls, thumb circling your clit.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you nodded, unable to talk, unable to fucking open your mouth. All you could focus on was on Ellie, on her long fingers fucking in and out of you, of her teeth on your tits, on her pussy fully pressed against one of your thighs, leaking and ready to cum.

“Fuck Ellie, i-i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna…” and as your walls clenched, you cried out when she left you with nothing. Making your high never reach its peak as she pulled his fingers out of you. Your whole body was trembling due to the denial of your orgasm, hands quickly reaching out for her, but she pressed them against the duvet, fingers digging in your wrists. “Please, Ellie, daddy, shit, I was so close…”

“I didn’t say you could come yet, sweetheart. Only good girls get to cum.” oh, she was playing you. You knew this was her little vengeance for that day you had caught her touching herself. Her eyes shone with lust when you whimpered due to the spank her hand gave to your soaked cunt. “Look at that. You really want it, hm? So needy for me…” your back arched when her thumb was back to your clit, toying with the little nub enough to edge you but not to make you cum. She relished in the little pleads that left your lips. ‘Please daddy, let me cum, please? I’ll do anything, anything. Ellie, shit, please…’ “Anything?” you nodded, too lost in that sickening pleasure your body succumbed to even notice the subtle change in her gaze. “Okay, then don’t regret it later…”

And then she was gone, leaving you completely alone in her bed as she stood up, looking for something before she would come back to you. Your half-lided eyes could get a glance of what she was holding in between her wet fingers: a dildo. On her left hand stood a magic wand.

You moaned when her lips found yours, teeth clashing and tongues brushing each other as she sucked on your bottom lip. “If you’re so desperate…, why don’t you show me how much you want it?” she said once she had pulled away, tongue outlining her swollen lips as her hand —the one that held the toy— rose up to your eyes, you whined when you understood what she was doing; swapping places.

“Ellie…” you whimpered, your cries being shut out when— after having left the wand aside— her hand cupped your face, making your lips pout out a little bit, brushing against her own.

“Come on, you said you’d do anything.“ she was smirking when her thumb pressed against your bottom lip, dragging it downwards and then sticking her thumb in your mouth. “Good girls get to cum, and maybe, if you put up a good show for me… I’ll fuck your just how you need it, hm?” she clicked her tongue when you nodded, tongue swirling around her finger. “Then go ahead, let me see you use the toy, sweetheart.”

She leaned backwards, letting you have your own space as she handed you the dildo. It was heavy in your hands, and pink, with just the perfect girth and length —there’s no need to say that Ellie’s strap was bigger in both ways, and much more beautiful…— with even veins on its sides.

Her eyes never left you as you neared it to your gushing cunt, letting your soaked lips surround it to lube it up. You sighed at the feeling of its tip pushing against your clit, using its head to tease yourself up and down, sometimes slightly pushing around your hole. “Yeah, that’s right. Touch yourself for me… That’s a good girl.” you moaned as you saw her hand reach in between her folds, sliding up and down, slowly, as she observed you. It only made you want her more. Your back arched as you slowly pushed it inside you, eyes falling shut when you felt the burning stretch, gasping for air when you finally bottomed out with a raspy moan. “Fuck, baby, just like that… So pretty.” her praising made your walls clench around the silicone as you slowly started to fuck yourself with it. “Look at you…” she chuckled when you started to pick up the pace. “Needy, honey?” your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you hit that hidden spot, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip when a scream tried to leave your chest. “Don’t silence yourself, baby. Let me hear you.” her hand matched your pace, fucking herself on her fingers, a groan leaving her lips at the sight of the toy disappearing in between your sticky folds.

“Ellie, fuck, please, need you so bad, need your cock Ellie, shit…”

“Fuck, you’re such a fucking slut…” she moaned, getting on top of your body once again, her soaked toys meeting your hand at the base of the toy to harshly push it inside of you, making you scream. “You like that, hm? Like fucking yourself while I watch, yeah? Fucking whore, you love the attention, don’t you?” you were a babbling mess, drooling all over the sheets as the tip of the toy mercilessly pushed against your g spot, making you see stars behind your close eyes. “You want my cock, hm? Want my cock, sweetheart?”

“Yes please, Ellie, pleasepleaseplease, fuck me please…” your hips were bucking against her hand, begging for more. And just like that she left you there, touching yourself as you watched her put on her strap, clicking it close around her hips. You were burning up, craving her in ways you’ve never craved anyone before. Craving for her to use you, destroy you. You moaned when the top of her cock pressed against your clit, making your head spin as she continued to pound inside of you with the dildo before pulling it out with a squelch, you moaned when you felt her align the strap with your hole. “Need it so bad…Then take it, take my cock, baby.” You hands quickly came up to her shoulders, finding leverage and moaning when the tip went in, tears pricking at your eyes when you felt her start to push inside of you. Finally. You were so painfully full and stretched that your nails dug on her shoulder, making her moan against your neck. It was always a stretch. So fucking big… “Fuck. So tight. Shit. Fuck, I love you.” he said, kissing your lips. “I love you so much…” you both moaned in each other’s mouth as her hips pushed further, slowly bottoming out and gasping when she was completely in, the back of the strap brushing against her clit. “What a good girl…” you whimpered on her hands as she praised you. “So tight for me.” your back arched when she started to move. It was slow at first, trying to get you accustomed to the feeling while making your mind drift off from the slight pain to the stimulation of your clit and nipples —which she sucked and bit down onto—.

“Shit, Ellie…” she smirked when your frown smoothed out, mouth falling open when she hit your g spot, legs surrounding her hips and fingers digging in her messy and silky hair. “Just like that, don’t stop, please…”

“Look at you… You love the feeling of my cock inside you, don’t you? Filling you up so good you can’t even breath, hm? What a whore…” you moaned, exposing your neck to her lips.

“Ellie!” you screamed when her thrusts became harder, relentless and merciless, hands tugging on your nipples.

“Do you feel it baby? Feel your pussy all stretched out for me?” she almost came in the spot when her eyes connected with the bulge on your stomach. “Fuck, look at that. So full of me…” you didn’t mean to, but you were cumming all over her cock when her fingers pushed against it, making a scream rip out your throat as your walls clenched around the strap. Everything was white and the world went absolutely quiet as you dissolved in her arms, unable to even breath at the intensity of your orgasm. “Shit, that was so fucking hot…” her hips stuttered when your walls fluttered around her. “Don’t clench on me that hard baby, feels like you are trying to milk my cock dry…” she chuckled just to curse moments after.

You were drooling on your shoulder as she thrusted inside of you. You were feeling so good…

Ellie started to fuck your brains out of you, hands on your hips as she slightly sat up, bringing you down on her cock with each new thrust. “Ellie, shit, so good…, fuck, daddy, more!” she moaned, the muscles below the skin of his arms flexing as he pushed you harshly down on her dick, making the tip torture that spot that always made you cum in a matter of seconds. “Fuck, I’m gonna— I’m gonna…”

“Hold it.” she ordered, one of her hands leaving your skin to get a hold on the magic wand, turning it on and putting it against your throbbing and swollen clit. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your back arched. “That’s it. Feels good doesn’t it?” she smirked. You couldn’t speak, dirty moans leaving your lips as you felt your high increase. She could tell by the way you clenched around the silicone and your thighs shook. “Go ahead baby, cum all over my cock. Want to see it drip down your thighs.”

“Shit, Ellie, fuck I’m coming!” you screamed when you felt your climax wash over you, making your body go rigid just to go limp after a couple of seconds.

Ellie continued to fuck you through it, cursing at the tightness of your soaked and swollen cunt. Fuck, she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t get enough.

“Ellie, ‘s too— too much, fuck, I’m gonna cum again!” new tears travelled down your cheeks at the constant stimulation, vibrations never stoping overstimulating your clit and dick harshly fucking into you, your nails dug on her back, drawing blood as you gushed all over her cock, squirting so hard you dampened your thighs and the sheets below you. “Ellie, s-stop…” you stuttered. You were crying so hard, unable to stop squirting at her constant fucking, unable to form an actual goddamn sentence, babbling in between sobs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Ellie couldn’t stop her hips, fucking you so good you swore you were fucking dying. The feeling of the strap stimulating her clit and seeing you fall apart below her was like stepping in heaven, the dirty wet sounds of her cock pounding into you and the splashing of your juices making her lose his mind. “I’m gonna cum, shit!” she moaned when she spilled against the back of the strap and harshly pumping inside your abused walls, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Fuck, baby, so good…” she muttered against your neck as she fucked herself down her climax, hips stopping while she was still buried deep inside of you, putting away the wand as her arms failed to keep her up right, making her fall on top of you.

The two of you tried to pace out your breathing, you moaning when little pecks were given to your neck, chest and shoulder before her lips found yours, tongue entering your mouth in a lazy kiss. You fingers lazed on her locks, pulling and playing with her hair as her teeth slightly bit down on your jaw, and then your neck, and your collarbones, and your chest, and…

You hissed when she pulled out of you, cum dripping and meeting your juices on the sheets as her lips trailed down your stomach.

“Hurts?” she questioned, to what you nodded, making a slow smirk appear on his face. “Want me to kiss it better?” you let out a little gasp when she nibbled on your hip bone, lips extremely close to your heat.

She took the tugging on her hair as a ‘yes’, positioning herself better and raising your legs up on her shoulders as she left open mouth kisses on your inner thighs, little sighs leaving your lips as she neared closed and closer… “Poor baby, fucked so good it’s all sore and swollen now.” You moaned when she finally got lost in between your thighs, humming at the taste of your cum dripping out of your cunt. Your head fell backwards as you gave into the pleasure, into her lips, into her name and fingers.

Into her sick love. Into Ellie Williams.

-

a/n; hope this gets love this time.

[anchoeritic]

girl i need your thoughts on car sex with ellie

warnings: eighteen plus content, minors do not interact. sexual intercourse (obviously), oral sex, vaginal sex (fingering), overstimulation, ellie is a certified & badged munch. ellie is also a top in this i fear.

there’s two different kinds of car sex i see with ellie:

the really desperate kinda sex where your hands are all over each other, kisses are so sloppy that she’s barely catching your lips and all the two of you can do is try to peel each other’s clothes off hastily.

maybe after a party or a night out and you just couldn’t wait to get home so you take it to the car. all ellie’s doing is muttering about how desperate she is just to touch you, feel you against her own body. repeating the same phrases of; “i need you, baby” and the occasional cursing between kisses.

her goal to please you is the first thing on her mind. which probably explains why she’s always trying to unbutton your jeans when the two of you are making out. her lips aim to make you feel good, especially between your thighs. the one place you really needed her the most.

she’d dive between your thighs anytime; day and night. but when she craves you desperately, there’s never a warning. once the first layer of fabric is peeled off, it doesn’t matter if your panties are in the way. she’s not opposed to tasting you through them.

but she prefers to push them aside, says you’re especially sweeter. you wouldn’t know whether to agree or disagree until she’d pull herself back up to kiss you, making you taste yourself off of her lips. sweeter than candy, she always says.

her hair’s a mess from you tugging at it while she was tongue deep inside you, face all shiny from what came after it, and your thighs are shaking violently. but she has yet to stop.

did i mention that she aims to please you?

she wouldn’t stop until you were on the verge of passing out, practically at a loss of words for the immense amount of pleasure she’d put you through. by the time you’re done, not only are the windows foggy but the leather seats are probably sticky too.

but there’s also the type that’s soooooo gentle. ellie taking her sweet time with you, making sure you’re laid back comfortably in the backseat and kissing down your neck.

her touch is soft, holding your hips down so she can leave plenty more kisses down your stomach. when she reaches your waistband, she’d wait for you to nod before continuing.

it’s overall very intimate. ellie likes taking her time with you when she can because she loves to explore your body. she wants to know what you love, what you don’t, what you need. every aspect of you has a story to be told and she wanted to know all of the details.

even if the narrative laid beneath the lace of your panties. she’s a tease, there’s no doubt about it. like a cold thumb pressed up against your clit while her hot lips trailed your inner thighs, or cupping your core and watching as you pathetically tried to rock yourself against her hand. she was quite the tease and she loved to watch you fall for it.

“you that needy for me, baby? can already feel how wet you are,” she’d mumble against your lips, slipping two digits between your wet folds. “so pretty. look at how good you took my fingers,” your moans would be left uncovered, ellie wanting you to be as loud as you could be.

she’s such a lover. one thing about ellie williams is that she is definitely a lover. she loves you and loves giving you pleasure. oh, and she loves praising you.

constantly telling you how pretty you look when your head is thrown back or how good you take her when you’re wrapped around her fingers. she loves to make you feel good about yourself even when you don’t feel it.

and she’d never complain about reminding you. whether it’s telling you or showing you.

[carame1bunny]

𝕾𝖙𝖗𝖚𝖌𝖌𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖔𝖓

pairing: Alastor x fem!doe Reader

summary: Mating season has it’s struggles and it affects Y/N the most.

warning: no smut yet(sorryyy), talks of sex and heat, mostly fluff and Alastor being a sweetie

It has a part 2 :)

Everyone, except one person from the Hotel, was in the parlor, having coffee and just eating breakfast.

Y/N had locked herself in her room, only coming out for a few minutes to gather herself food for the whole day and to let everyone know that she was okay.

“No, but really… What the fuck is up with her?” Asked Angel.

“It’s that time of the year for deers, it’s called mating season, I looked it up.” Charlie said, before, she was worried about her so she found a book about it and learnt about it.

“Oohhh, so our doe is horny? It’s a mood, honestly.” Angel instantly got into his flirty voice and he turned to Husk “Don’t whiskers gets heats? Mmmh… We could satisfy it together!” He leaned more into him, but he only got shoved off.

“Fuck off!”

For the first time that morning, Alastor decided to speak. “It’s more than sexual feelings.” All heads turned to him in question, so he continued. “Female deers are overwhelmed by their maternal instincts, their whole bodies are aching to take care of their own little fawns.”

Vaggie spoke. “So, she is pregnant?”

“AWWW—-“ Charlie’s eyes turned big and teary.

Alastor chuckled in response. “Heavens no! This is where the sexual instincts slip in—“

“Slip in?” Angel raised his brow suggestively, but got a flick to the head, by Husk again.

“Ha.ha.ha. No. Whether she mates or not, her body still feels the need to mother.”

“That’s why she is curled up all day in that big pile of blankets?” Vaggie asked and both Charlie and Alastor nodded in unison.

“She also put on some weight too? Don’t get me wrong, it’s sexy. Her thighs are so plushy and her ass and ti—-“

“Yes, she gains weight in case she needs to feed a fawn and keep it warm during the cold season.”

There was a bit of comfortable silence before… guess who spoke up again.

“Hold on a second.” Angel perked his head up. “Aren’t you supposed to be in heat too? You’re a deer, too.”

All heads turned to Alastor, who didn’t show how uncomfortable he felt. He only chuckled with a wide smile, but before he could have brushed it off, the missing doe entered the parlor.

“Good morning!” All kinds of greetings were heard. She sat down on the couch.

“How are you today?” Husk asked her.

She smiled. “I’m okay, thank you. I am just going out, I have to stock up on my sweets, I’ve ran out. Anyway… I’m just goi—“ She started to make her way to the door, but Alastor appeared in front of her.

“Like hell you are! It’s dangerous out there for you.” He leaned closer to her and whispered in her ear. “You wouldn’t want any bucks catching your scent and doing… heaven knows what.”

“B-but I need my sweets.” She huffed.

Alastor just stroked her ears. “Don’t you worry, doe, I’ll go out and get them for you.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly ask that.” Their faces were inches away, completely oblivious that all eyes were on them and all lips were smirking their way.

“Nonsense! You just go back to your nest, lock the door and I will be there in a bit, with all you could need.” When he finished his sentence, he was already out the door.

She turned around, she needed to get back, every nerve in her body was on the edge.

When both deers were gone, Angel spoke again.

“What the fuck did I just witness?!”

“Her body acknowledged that a buck gave her commands, so she must comply.” Charlie said, with a smug undertone in her voice.

Everyone scaterred after that, only Husk and Angel were at the bar, sipping on their usual strong liquor.

“So… Creepy face is in heat too.”

Husk stopped the cleaning of the glasses to laugh.

“Exactly.”

“So, a fawn running around the hotel is not too far way in time, is it?” His fingers glided around the rim of the glass.

“If it’s up to Alastor, it will be even sooner.”

[writing-fanics]

Nothing lasts forever

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

[warning: cheating: angst: panic attack: implied death]

‘More than anything music box’

As you stood there, your heart felt as though it had stopped beating at that very moment. Your breathing started to slow down as your smile faltered and transformed into a frown. A look of profound sadness and sorrow took over your face as you gazed at the scene before you.

Your eyes were fixed on Lucifer, one of the most beautiful angels in all of Heaven, the one you had opened your heart up to and shared your deepest feelings with.

But now, you were witnessing him cheating on you with Lilith, the first woman and Adam's wife. The pain you felt was almost unbearable, as you watched the love of your life betray your trust and shatter your heart into a million pieces.

You could feel your throat closing as your breathing quickened. You felt sick to your stomach as if someone had punched you in the gut. You wanted to throw up. You wanted to scream. To cry, to disappear from existence. You couldn’t believe he’d do such a thing to you, were you not enough?

Were you not as beautiful as she is? Were you too clingy? To annoying? Why did he betray you and your trust?

He promised to always be by your side when you needed him, to always catch you when you fall. To be your shoulder to cry on. To never break your trust.

But here he was breaking that very promise and trust, leaving you feeling empty and hollow. The two of you were made for each other, and with the scene unfolding before you. Made you think otherwise.

���I love you, Lilith,” whispered Lucifer, as he stared at Lilith in awe kissing her on the lips.

Your whole world shattered as your back hit the tree, and you slid down onto the ground. Placing your hand over your mouth, muffling your wails. You couldn’t breathe and felt the world closing in on you. You were nothing to him. You sniffled quietly placing your head into your hands, and wept as you swiftly flew away.

You fell into a heap on the floor of your house, sobbing as you curled up into a ball. You saw everything and what you saw would forever be engraved into your memory, you’ll never get it out of your head. Seeing them like that, him like that with another woman. Made your stomach turn, how could he do such a thing to you?

“W- Was I not enough?” You whimpered, as you lay in the fetal position. Your face is red and puffy cheeks stained with tears, your heart aching and unbearable pain. You knew he felt what you were going through at this moment, and couldn’t care less to comfort you. Your love was bound and could feel each other's emotions when they became severe, and you knew for a fact he could feel it.

But didn’t care enough to comfort you. He was having too much fun with Lilith, doing things that he should only be doing to you his lover.

You thought he would never do such a thing to you. Never betray you and break your heart, and here he was ripping it right out of your throat. If he had noticed you would he have stopped? Would he have kept going? Taunting you, teasing you, on an act he’d never done to you. Such an act he’ll never do to you now.

You thought your relationship was good perfect even. Yes, you had the occasional fight but would always end up back in each other’s arms, holding each other lovingly. Feeling safe and secure in each other's warm embrace.

“I'm so sorry, my dear duckling," he whispered, pulling you close and showering your shoulder with gentle kisses. "Please know that I understand how you feel.”

"I forgive you, Luci," you said, enveloping him in a warm embrace and smiling through your tears as he held you. He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead and whispered comforting words in your ear, promising to make things right.

You banged your fist against the cold ground; gripping at the fabric of your clothes, as you cried. The tears didn’t seem to stop and wouldn’t anytime soon. You couldn’t breathe, the room around you started to spin. You felt dizzy and nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat causing you to gag. You swallowed and gripped the side of your head.

You tossed it to the ground, screaming and crying in anger and frustration. “HOW COULD HE DO THIS TO ME!” You shouted, trashing everything that reminded you of him. You couldn’t stop crying, the things this man did to you. How he made you smile and laugh, how he made you fall head over heels.

You wanted to disappear and fade back into dust, your original form. To not be forced to live with this pain for all eternity, knowing that even after this you’d still love him. He’d come back and apologize slowly making up for it but…..

You stood there with the other angels, his siblings trying their best to comfort you. As you watched him be banished from Heaven, cast down with his new lover. Leaving you there alone in Heaven, with no shoulder to cry on.

You found yourself standing amidst a group of angels, feeling a sense of unease and trying hard to keep yourself composed. As you looked ahead, you noticed him standing before Lilith, his wings stretched out protectively, shielding her from any harm. The sight of him being so close to Lilith made your heart ache with a mixture of emotions.

You couldn't help but wonder if you were so unpleasant to look at that he couldn't even spare a glance in your direction. The whole situation left you feeling conflicted, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy towards Lilith, who seemed to have his undivided attention.

As you stood there looking at him, you noticed that his gaze had shifted to meet yours. It was then that you saw a hint of remorse in his eyes, and you couldn't help but feel a wave of sadness wash over you. In that moment, a single tear trickled down his cheek, and you averted your eyes, unable to bear the intensity of the situation.

As you looked away from him, he noticed the tears that had welled up in your own eyes, and the hollow, defeated expression etched on your face. It was a moment of deep emotional turmoil for both of you, and the silence that hung between you was almost suffocating.

“Nothing lasts forever,” Azrael said, as he placed his hand on your shoulder squeezing it gently in reasurrance.

You shook your head and stepped outside of the courtroom, stopping at the stairs. You reached around your neck taking off the necklace, Lucifer had given you years ago.

You stared at it for a moment, opening it. A soft melody played, tears trickled down her cheeks as whisps of yellow magic swirled, around the locket music box. A duck swam in a pond while a swan, swam up next to it nuzzling their heads into each other.

As she witnessed the heartwarming scene unfolding before her, she couldn't help but let out a choked sob. A tearful smile graced her face as she watched the duck and the swan gradually transform into Lucifer and You, respectively. The two characters held each other closely, their embrace exuding a sense of comfort and security.

Lucifer, still holding onto You, took to the skies, flying around with exuberance. His laughter filled the air, and his smile was contagious. You, too, shared in his joy, reveling in the moment with him.

As they soared through the clouds, a vivid memory of their first kiss flashed before your eyes. You remembered how you had wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, and he had held you close to him. The moment had been magical, and it was a memory that you cherished deeply.

You smiled, closing the locket as a gust of wind blew the magic away, and you along with it, returning back to your original form to dust.

A/n: idk what I just created there’s no part ii for this unless y’all beg me for it but idk still]

Taglist

@froggybich

[prettyfastcars]

triggered | Mob!Lando

Summary: The two of you had broken up just weeks ago, and it was mainly his fault. But no matter how hard he tried to win you back, you never gave him the opportunity to. Lando hadn’t heard from you or seen you at all in those weeks. And when he did finally catch a glimpse of you, it almost made his heart stop. He hoped he’d find you at a club, or walking down the city streets. He didn’t expect to find a suggestive photograph of you on another man’s phone. And that triggered his anger and jealousy in a way that nothing ever had before. 

Themes: exes-to-lovers, jealous!lando, smut, cam girl!reader, lowkey toxic ex!lando, degrading kink, brief aftercare, mild gun play, mild daddy kink

All he saw was pure red. 

Earlier this evening, Lando walked into one of the clubs he owned in this city to hopefully drink enough to forget all about the torturous day he’d had. It seemed like ever since the two of you broke up, he had only been having bad days. Mainly because half the time he was busy thinking about you and his brain wasn’t functioning well. 

So tonight, after a long day and the longest week ever, he just wanted some drinks and some peace. But of course, life had to torture him some more. 

Lando was lounging in one of the couches in the VIP area, constantly having to turn down all the girls who wanted his attention. He barely even saw their faces, they all seemed blurry and since they weren’t you, he didn’t care. So there he was, chilling when he heard a group of men nearby, over on the next couch, laughing and ‘ooh’ ing while looking down at one of their friends’ phone. 

As much as he wanted to have them kicked out for their loud, annoying voices, he couldn’t because they were some of the regulars. The group was here almost every weekend. And part of him was also curious to know what had their attention like that. So he listened intently as the guys proceeded to make vulgar comments on pictures that a woman sent one of them apparently. The club was loud, but he was close enough to be able to hear part of their conversation. 

“So did you like, ask for this?” One of them asked.

Then the one on whose phone the video was sent, he assumed, answered, “She’s like a cam girl who also does like a private chat thing if you send her enough money. So I requested pictures and she sent these.” 

The men laughed, slapping the guy who received the video on the back like he was a hero. 

Another asked, “So what’s her name?” 

“I don’t know. She always wears hot bunny costumes and she...” 

The rest of what he said did even register in Lando’s brain. He totally froze on the couch for a second there. 

Bunny costumes? Surely not… 

Lando knew of your past as a cam girl. You used to be quite a successful one too. But you stopped when you and Lando started dating about a year ago. Not because he wanted you to, but because you didn’t need the extra money anymore since Lando spoiled you rotten. 

His heart raced faster than the cars he liked to drive when he realised how many bunny costumes you owned. It was your go to Halloween costume each year. Plus during your cam girl days, you were known for them. 

It can’t be you, right? You wouldn’t… right? Not when he couldn’t even breathe right whenever he thought about how you had ‘broken up’ with him. 

He felt hot and cold at the same time, and something, like a twisted gut feeling told him something wasn’t right. So Lando quietly signalled one of his guards over and asked him to bring him that phone that was currently being passed around within that group of men, and also asked him to kick that whole group out. 

Within a minute or two, the group was gone and that damn phone was in his hand. And Lando lost it for a moment. All he saw was red, his heartbeats echoed in his ears, his hands shook. He had never felt this level of rage before. 

On the screen was a picture of a woman, scantily dressed. Black fishnets, black bodysuit, black bunny ears, black high knee socks. He tightened his grip around the phone so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if the screen cracked. The woman’s face was turned away, but Lando would recognise that body anywhere. A body he had touched, tasted, fucked too many times to count. 

It was you. And the red neon sign behind you only served as more proof that this picture was taken in your bedroom. A bedroom he was in just weeks ago, arguing with you before you two broke up. 

He was breathing heavily as if he’d run a marathon. He checked the date and time of the picture and turned out you had sent it that evening itself, and that only fueled whatever murderous rage had taken over him. 

Lando pocketed the stranger’s phone, and pulled out his own and called you. Of course you didn’t pick up and that only pissed him off even more. 

Within the next minute, Lando was out of the club, in his car and speeding towards your penthouse. He could barely think straight. He could barely function, it was a miracle he was still able to drive properly. 

His heart raced as he surpassed the speed limit like the law meant nothing to him. It rarely ever did but right now, all he cared about was finding you and fuck, he didn’t even know what the fuck to say to you. But he would remind you that you still belonged to him. 

He knew it would only piss him off even more but he pulled out that guy’s phone again, and with a few taps he found that damn picture again. He kept an eye on the mostly empty road as he swiped left and right to see if there were more pictures. 

There were a couple more. Same outfit, different angles. Always with your face hidden. Lando nearly threw the phone out the window but he knew he’d need it when he would confront you. So he tossed the phone aside, and punched his steering wheel instead. He hoped the pain would maybe take his focus away from the rage he felt, but he barely even felt the punch. 

He was shaking by the time he reached your penthouse. His entire being focused on only getting to your floor and knocking on your door. He barely even remembered if he had parked his car in the right spot. 

He took deep breaths in the elevator, trying to talk himself out of breaking down your front door the moment he got to it. It was late at night, so even if he did break down the door your neighbours would surely hear it and come investigate. 

And for what he had planned for you, he didn’t want an audience. Fuck, he was barely able to think straight after finding a picture of you in another man’s phone. He was certain he would commit heinous crimes if ever someone saw you half naked like that in real life. 

He banged loudly on your door. He could hear nothing but silence on the other end. But he knew you’d be home. Since less than an hour ago you sent pictures to a random man. 

He called out. “Open up, babygirl.” Lando growled, banging both of his fists onto the wooden door. The sound was loud enough that he could hear it echoing inside the spacious penthouse. He waited to hear something, and he did. Some kind of movement from the other side of the door, but the door remained locked. He yelled louder, “I will break down this door if I have to, baby. Is that what you want? Want me to cause a scene?” 

Apparently you didn’t because the moment those words left his mouth, he heard a familiar click. The door unlocked, but remained shut. He would’ve smirked and felt triumphant if it wasn’t for the fiery anger inside him which tried to claw its way out. 

Lando opened the door, rushed inside and slammed it shut behind him. At that point, he didn’t care who heard the commotion he caused. The moment his eyes met yours, he stopped giving a fuck about anything else. 

You stood near the entrance. Back against the wall like it would protect you from him. And what pissed him off even more was that you were still wearing that damn costume, minus the bunny ears, from the picture. Something in him snapped as he nearly pounced on you like an actual predator in the wild.  

Grabbing you by the neck, he pinned you to the wall. Ignoring your pleas, he pulled out that guy’s phone, found that damn picture and shoved it in your face. 

“Care to explain what the fuck this is?!” He snarled, squeezing your throat just a little. 

You didn’t have to look at the screen to know what he had found. You didn’t know what kind of twisted invisible string this was, that even after breaking up brought Lando back into your life. Like this no less. You’d been ignoring him for weeks, but somehow he found his way to you now. 

“That is none of your business.” You said, causing him to tighten his grip around your neck. Still, you whispered, “What I do is none of your problems anymore. We’re–” 

Lando cut you off by throwing the phone to the ground with enough force that it broke and bounced off the floor and hit the front door. Then he leaned closer to you, his eyes quickly scanning your barely dressed body. 

Your body reacted the same way it did back when you were together. All Lando ever had to do was give you those bedroom eyes and you’d be dragging him to bed no matter the time of day. 

His other hand reached into his pocket and he pulled out the shiny gun he always carried. It had his name engraved on it and everything. He used to let you play with back when–

Your thoughts came to an immediate halt when he carefully pressed the cold barrel of the gun to your parted lips, his eyes staring into yours. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little scared of him at that moment. After all, he hadn’t earned the reputation he had for nothing. 

“Keep talking, come on.” He whispered, dangerously calm now. “Tell me more about how you’re not my problem anymore.” 

He scoffed when you shivered, trailing the barrel of the gun down your body. Leaving your lips, down your chin, down in between your breasts. The almost see-through bodysuit didn’t leave much to the imagination and it both pissed him off and turned him on. He dragged the gun across your stomach, and further down until he pressed the barrel in between your legs, making you whimper like an actual bunny. 

He rubbed it in between your legs briefly before dragging it back up your body. “You wanted to be a slutty, little bunny so bad, didn’t you?” He cooed in that voice that sent shivers all over your body. “Go on then, run and hide. Hide as best you can.” He tapped the barrel of the gun on your lower lip a couple of times before saying, “And when I find you, I will remind you exactly who you belong to.” 

With that he pulled away, took a few steps back and gave you room to run. It was cruel, whatever game he was playing. But it was messing with your head, turning you on. 

Seeing you weren’t moving, he added, “I’ll count till ten. Better get moving, little bunny.” 

You ran, hearing him count in the background as your heart raced. The penthouse was spacious, with many nooks and corners to hide in. Like the wine cellar for instance. But Lando knew each and everyone of those hiding spots. He was the one who gifted you the penthouse after all. Besides, no matter how well you hid he would end up finding you anyway. 

Still, you ran deep into your walk-in closet and hid behind your thich coats. Crouched down in a corner, you waited to hear if he was coming. His voice reached you before he did. 

“I’m coming to find you.” Followed by a deep, scary chuckle. “And when I do, I show you exactly what happens to bad little bunnies who misbehave.” 

Time felt like it went by in slow motion as you listened intently for his footsteps. You heard it approaching. Then you heard your bedroom door opening and shutting. 

“You’re so predictable,” He sounded disappointed. Yet his voice made you clench your thighs together all the same. 

And you were too busy trying to process how your body was reacting to the fear, the sound of his voice, the anticipation of what was to come, that you didn’t hear him enter the closet. 

“I know you’re in here,” He called out in a voice that was so calm it made your heart pound even harder. “I can hear you trembling behind those coats, babygirl.” 

Shit. 

You barely processed it all when his hand reached in and grabbed you by the arm, dragging you out of your pathetic hiding spot. 

“Lando, please–,” 

He cut you off by glaring at you and said, “On your knees.” 

You quickly sank down to your knees in front of him, looking up to find a wild hunger in those pretty eyes of his. 

He spoke up again. “Now come on, we both know what that pretty mouth is good at. Show me.” He grabbed you by the back of your neck. “You wanted so desperately to be a little slut, right? Sending pictures to random men, huh? Come on then, make it good for me like a slut would.” 

His words put you under a spell. Your hands reached up to undo his belt, unzip his trousers and lower his underwear to free his erected cock. 

“Come on, little bunny.” He hissed, watching you as you wrapped your hands around his cock and placed your mouth on him, your tongue slowly circling his tip. 

Lando pushed himself deeper into your mouth. “Take all of me. This is all you’re good for, isn’t it bunny?” He threw his head back and let out a strained moan. “All you’re good for is sucking daddy’s cock…” 

You kept your eyes on his handsome face as you sucked on his cock. Lips parted and gasping as he tilted his head back. He looked every bit the powerful man he was. He groaned as he took over, pushing deeper into your mouth, fucking it like he owned it. 

“This is all you needed, isn’t it you little brat?” He taunted, as you gagged a little, taking him perfectly. “You wanted attention that bad, huh?” He hissed, fucking your mouth harder until your jaws hurt. “Isn’t that why you broke up with me? Because according to you I didn’t give you enough attention?” He thought back to that night you two ‘broke up’. 

That menacing tone of his made you squirm and it only added to the dampness which was forming in between your legs. 

He quickened the pace at which he moved in and out of your mouth. “All the trips, the cars, the penthouse, that beach house you threw a bratty fit for, all the shit I bought you. None of it was enough for your attention-seeking, bratty self, was it? Hmm?” When you didn’t respond, you earned yourself a smack on your cheek. “You still had to go look for more from another man, is that it?” 

You glared at him upon hearing the insinuation in his words. 

“Did you think anyone else could treat you like I do? Did you think another man would spoil you like I do?” His stare intensified when you dragged your tongue lazily over the slit on his tip, tasting some of his come and moaning as you did. Smirking, and just to push your buttons he asked, “Did you suck him off like this too?” 

That did it. You pulled away, snarling at him, “Fuck you!” 

You stood up fast, shoving at his chest. But he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer, his eyes focusing on your swollen lips. “So you cheat, and then you have the audacity to–,” 

You cut him off by raising your voice and saying firmly, “I didn’t cheat! We broke up, remember?” 

“And you are mine!” He hissed. “Remember that?” 

Before you answered, his mouth was on yours. His kiss was rough and it hurt in the best way. Lando pulled away for a brief moment, squeezed your cheeks so you couldn’t close your mouth. Glaring at you, he spat in your mouth before kissing you again. 

It was hot. And messy. And you were too lost in him to think straight, so much that you didn’t realise he was dragging you towards your bed until he pushed you down on it. 

Then he pointed at the red neon sign above your bed with a lethal look in his eyes. “This is where you took the picture, isn’t it?” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, “Like a needy little slut.” 

You were quiet. Your brain was too foggy with lust to function. 

“Why’d you do it?” He asked, sliding his rough hands up and down your parted thighs. You spread them even more the moment he touched you and he smirked when he noticed it. “Was it for money?” He taunted, knowing full well he’d put enough money in your account for it to last a lifetime. 

All you did was whimper as he crawled on top of you, looking down at you like he couldn’t decide what to do with you. He knelt in between your legs, his hands toyed with the thin material of your body suit, his fingers tracing the outline of it along your inner thighs, then he abruptly tore it, the fabric giving in to his strong hands. 

His fingers tore at the fishnets as well, now exposing your wet folds to his dangerous stare. He touched you mindlessly, sliding his fingers up and down your slit, spreading your wetness around. 

“You’re not gonna show off this body from now on, you hear me?” 

“Now you have a problem with it?” You couldn’t help but scoff. “Isn’t that how we met?” 

That earned you a slap on the thigh. You yelped in pain before glaring at him. 

“Yeah we did. And now you’re mine so no one gets to see you like–,” 

“But we broke up.” 

Lando hated being cut off. But what he hated more than that was when you argued over stupid shit like this. “Say that bullshit again. I dare you.” 

You gulped at the sound of his voice. Cold, bitter, threatening. He was getting on your nerves, and perhaps that’s why you whispered sassily, “We broke up.” 

And that did it. His hand pinned you down on the bed by wrapping around your neck to keep you in place, while his other hand wrapped around his cock. Pumping it once, twice while holding your stare. 

You could cry that’s how badly you needed him inside you. Lando wasted no time sliding inside of you. Giving you no time to even think, he moved in and out of you in a way that had you crying out loud. 

He held your stare as he fucked you hard and fast, barely giving you time to breathe right. He leaned in again, whispering against the corner of your open mouth, “We broke up, huh? You think we’re done, babygirl? Is that why your pussy is strangling my cock?”

You could feel your face getting hotter as your walls clenched around him over and over again, as he sped up and pounded into you. You felt all of him stretching you out, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you until he was all you could focus on. 

“Is this what you wanted, little bunny?” He whispered, pounding into you relentlessly as he bent down to bite your lower lip and tug on it. “Is this enough attention, baby?” 

You moaned at how perfect his warm body felt on top of yours, his weight pressing down on you. He couldn’t even bother to get you properly undressed, but something about being so dishevelled as he fucked you, fishnets torn, bodysuit in tatters, it only made it hotter. 

His slight stubble tickled your skin as he kissed your face and bit on your lip. Your legs trembled as his thrusts, relentless and unbearably good. The pressure around your lower body was familiar, tight and hot.

Lando looked at you as you tightened around his cock. He smirked, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you each time he thrust in. “See?” He whispered, “You’re all mine again. Only mine.” The possessiveness in his voice only made you clench around him again. 

His hand squeezed your throat, making you moan even louder. “My dirty little slut. Look at you, all cock drunk.” He scoffed, giving you yet another messy kiss. “Are you gonna be good from now on? When you want something, you open that slutty little mouth and ask me for it, you understand? Be it attention, money, or some cock to fill you up.” He growled. “You come to me!” 

You whimpered, unable to say anything because of how good he felt sliding in and out of you. Fuck, you had missed this. So much. You whined again when his hand let go of your throat, fingers trailing down your squirming body until his fingers found your clit, toying with it while he pounded into you mercilessly.

“Are you gonna be good from now on?” He stared deep into your eyes as he spoke. “You’re mine, and you’re damn lucky that guy didn’t touch you otherwise I would’ve fucking killed him.” He spoke in a fit of rage again, fueled by his lust. 

“Please…” You whimpered, squirming and unable to hold back anymore. You needed to come so bad, you could feel your eyes tearing up. Your thoughts were a mess. 

Lando leaned in to kiss your exposed shoulder while he fucked you. “Answer me first.” He whispered, his warm breath tickling your ear. “Are you going to fucking behave or not?” 

“I will!” You squealed when he bit down on your shoulder. 

“Good girl.” 

And you couldn’t hold back anymore. You came undone all around him. Moaning and back arching off the bed as you came hard around his cock, tightening around him even harder than earlier. 

Lando kept pounding into you as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him violently. Your body trembling under him. “That’s it, babygirl. Come for me.” 

You could hear the untamed hunger in his deep, growly voice. He groaned until he came undone as well. You whined and whimpered as you felt him filling you up, his thrusts slowing down, his cum dripping down your thighs. 

—

You didn’t remember when he cleaned you up and changed you into your favourite onesie before getting in bed with you. All you remember is waking up at some point during the night, cuddled up with him, safe and warm in his arms. 

Lando was awake still, his fingers lazily tracing shapes over your back. You cleared your throat awkwardly and waited for him to say something. 

“Why'd you do it?” He asked. 

You were silent for a moment. Then answered, “I thought it was time I move on and earn my own money.” 

“Your own money.” Lando scoffed. “You have money.” 

“It's yours. I'm not gonna use your money when I'm not with you.” A pause. “I've started looking for an apartment, I'll move–,”

He cut you off by twisting his body, and yours, so you laid on your sides facing each other. Even in the dark you could feel the intensity of his stare. He grabbed your chin roughly and spoke in that low, menacing voice. “You are gonna stop with this nonsense.” 

“But–” 

“Shut the fuck up, baby. Don't piss me off.” 

You frowned but kept quiet for a few moments. Having him be this close to you reminded you of how addicting he could be. His handsome face. His pretty eyes. His touch. The way he couldn’t help but order you around. He was infuriating. But he made your heart flutter. 

“So,” You mumbled, “Now what?” 

Lando let go of your chin and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. He ignored your question, and instead asked, “Are you in pain?” 

You quickly assessed your body and replied, “Just a little sore. That bite on my shoulder hurts though. It's gonna leave behind a mark.” You wrapped an arm around his lean waist too. 

“Good.” He said arrogantly. “It'll remind you that you belong to me.”