#also. look. i try not to focus on him too much at the expense of other analysis but i am a parody of myself and. well

[afterthefeast]

ep 3 rewatch

it’s been done to death but the fact that goodsir is the one who prevents silna from getting the charms she needed is so juicy. man despite your best intentions your hands are bloody from the start eh?

also hartnell & silna is a really good interaction because like, he’s really quite kind and respectful, be puts some supper in and gives condolences for her father but it doesn’t ultimately matter. i think it’s an example of how no matter how good their intentions are or how kind they may be the crew cannot do the right thing because they just have this insurmountable epistemological barrier by virtue of having been raised to buy into empire.

now that i’ve remembered who he is it’s possible de voeux is my most hated character in this show

also throwing silna’s father down the ice hole just. so cartoonishly evil.

obsessed with how consistently miserable meals on the erebus are shown to be. obviously this one is sad for good reason because gore isn’t there but it does paint a picture of a truly soul-sucking working environment. just deeply awkward for everybody involved.

also interesting to read the body language in franklin’s flashback to his officers chatting back in london. fitzjames is halfway out of the circle but leaning in pretty much how someone slightly left out of the school friendgroup would act (foreshadowing that he’s out of his depth and overcompensates socially?) and gore is the centre of attention (tallies with the impression that gore was pretty universally popular and does suggest to me that his early death really sent things downhill on erebus morale wise).

honestly jane franklin is so interesting to me. love that she’s a bit of a lady macbeth in some ways despite next episode pointing out that she also thinks her husband is a bit of an idiot.

mandatory religious service sir john u fucking square

the fact that franklin refuses crozier’s rescue plan right after we’re shown he had no rescue plan in the first place — motivated primarily by vanity. “i will not lose another man” is not his motivation surely. hilarious that he accuses crozier of vanity because of this as well. something deeply paternalistic about the whole speech too - franklin saying he takes some (but not all!) responsibility for crozier’s shortcomings as a captain. something about how everything crozier is is because of sir john, who is retroactively taking credit for moulding his whole personality, except for his flaws which are inherent to crozier, indelible failures. ALSO actually this is completely the imperial mindset like straight up. british imperial policy in africa (in contrast to french) focused very much on like, emphasising difference between indigenous people and the british administration. they would educate “able” colonised people in the british system but they would never be british (the french response, also evil, was just to say that everyone was now french what a gift). like, the attitude of, we will make you, as much as we can, a good imperial citizen, all of your achievements will be because we gave you that opportunity, but also you will never truly be one of us because you will always be Other and therefore wrong. very franklin & crozier in that scene.

the irony of course is that, the above said, in a limited sense franklin isn’t wrong — crozier’s tendency to isolate himself is actively detrimental.

also fitzjames’ obvious eavesdropping is really funny especially considering that it was not necessary. dundy was also listening in but managed to get away but fj just sort of freezes? very secondary mean girl behaviour of him

ok interesting that blanky & crozier assume little would refuse to disobey sir john and send off the search parties. also “there’s a spare captain on erebus”, fun thirty second foreshadowing. but also good example of how crozier is like…idk his self-sacrifical tendencies are obviously ultimately completely thwarted, and also not at all the best for his ship

DIGGLE WAS THE COOK??? ok craaaazy that he ended up in cannibalism kitchen then

IRVING WATERCOLOUR SPEECH. best moment of this whole fucking show. again really interesting that hickey has initially really misread the situation and it is worse than he thought it was BUT it’s also so funny how much he is clearly enjoying playing the repentant sinner. kind of into it methinks. also “you’re in the world’s best place for it” [“repairing” yourself] and “god sees you, mr hickey. here, more than anywhere” OKAYY.

DIVORCE!!!!! <3333

“to think you were such a good wife to me, all this months” hmmmmm

RAT SPEECH okay putting a pin in this speech because i am too tired to fully go through it but there’s a lot there about like. idk general human/animal stuff, also “rats devouring each other to make more rats” kind of a thesis statement maybe?

“just ask jopson” classic messy bitch jopson

“he sees something in me” / “he doesn’t see you at all” — “a man like me will do anything to be seen” / “that is not how i see you” yet another parallel between hickey & billy and crozier & fitzjames. which could mean anything

“educate this creature as to the dominion of the empire and the will of the lord behind it” well.

honestly goodsir trying to figure out how to arrange the leg will always be famous

little & dundy honestly looking straight up suicidal about fitzjames’ excessive grief. yet another erebus awkward workplace moment.

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time We Got High And Almost Kissed”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: brothers au, fluff, frenemies dynamic, use of illegal substances (cannabis)

Word Count: 2.63k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Sukuna always finds a way to surprise you, he’s definitely got that going for him. However, that’s not exactly a good thing the vast majority of the time, and today is no exception.

You turn the corner as you come up the stairs and find his bedroom door wide open. He’s hunched over on his bed using his pocket knife to slice open a cheap gas station cigar, spilling the tobacco onto a paper plate. He pulls a small plastic bag out of his back pocket and carefully pinches its contents out, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger before sprinkling it inside of the shell of the cigar. His eyes glance over into the hallway and he immediately does a double take after spotting you watching him, for a brief moment he looked like a deer in headlights.

You squint your eyes, your brows furrowing questionably, “Is that weed?”

He lets out a dry scoff, looking back down towards the blunt in his fingers and continuing to fill it up, “Creep.”

“You’re the one with the door wide open!” You exclaim, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

You step into his bedroom, walls littered with posters leaving no clear space in sight; even the ceilings are covered in black tapestries. You crawl onto the foot of his bed, your knees sinking into the red comforter. Sukuna’s hair is disheveled, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in focus, tired eyes narrowed down as he stuffs the flower into the dark brown paper.

“Isn’t that illegal?” You question, a little more snarky than you intended.

“What’re you, a cop?” His crimson eyes shoot a glare up at you, fingers rolling the blunt closed and his pierced tongue licking a stripe up the incision he cut into the wrapper to seal it back shut.

Did he really have to do that without breaking eye contact? He’s gonna be the death of me.

A tiny smirk creeps onto the corner of his lips, “You should try it, could really use something t’ get that stick out your ass.”

You give him an exaggerated eye roll, “I hate you so much, you know that?”

“Yeah yeah, not like y’tell me every day,” A spark flashes in his eyes, his sheepish grin turning more mischievous, “Hey tell you what, split this with me and I’ll show you my spot.”

Your head tilts in confusion, eyeing him up curiously, “Your spot?”

He leans back against the headrest of his bed, shrugging nonchalantly, “Didn’t think I smoked in the house, did you?”

It does never smell like cigarettes in the apartment, or weed, or whatever the hell else he’s smoking. You could smell it on his clothes all the time, but now that you think about it you’ve never actually seen him smoke before.

“You leave the house to smoke?”

“You could call it that, sure.” He hops off the bed, pulling on a pair of black combat boots from his closet and not bothering to tie them. He turns around to face you, looking down at you expectantly, “Gonna join me or not?”

He’s such a bad influence, you’re so aware of that. But you’re also so morbidly curious, and he’s a hard man to say no to, so you cautiously nod your head and stand up from his bed.

“Knew you had it in you.” He smirks, placing the blunt between his lips to hold it in place and snatching a disposable lighter off his nightstand, stuffing it into his pocket.

Sukuna walks across his room to the window, his back facing the glass as he slides it open behind him, and then leaning back to stick his torso outside. His strong tattooed arms reach up over his head as he grabs the edge of the roof and lifts his legs into a crouch, promptly pulling his whole body out the window, doing one hell of a pull up to lift himself up onto the roof in one fluid motion.

Your jaw nearly drops to the floor. There’s no fucking way he’s seriously expecting you to be able to do that.

You see strands of his pink hair first as he pops his head upside down to peer down into the window, reaching his arm inside and outstretching his open palm to you, “C’mon, you won’t fall.” He pauses for a moment, flashing you a mischievous grin, “… Probably.”

You give him a weary and unconfident smile, “How reassuring.”

Taking tentative steps towards the window, you see his grin grow wider. You gently place your hand in his palm and he doesn’t waste a second, wrapping his fingers around your knuckles and squeezing tight, yanking his arm towards him to pull you closer. For just a mere second, the two of you were eye level as he hung his head upside down, your surprised eyes locking with his confident ones and his breathy laughter ghosting onto your forehead.

But just as quickly, his head dipped out of view. His low voice calls down to you from the roof as his impatient hand pulls you closer, “Put your foot up on the windowsill.”

You tentatively place your foot on the ledge, squeezing his hand tight to steady yourself as you shift your weight onto your other leg and pull yourself up to stand on the windowsill. His free hand quickly wraps under your arm, pulling you up and towards him, his arms wrapping tightly around your chest and waist as he pulls you into his lap with your back flush against him.

He leans his chin down on your shoulder, his breath fanning the side of your neck as he sarcastically whispers, “Almost dropped you there.”

A deep blush paints your face red. His legs are spread with your own planted in between them, his arms wrapped protectively around you and squeezing your body against his chest as he keeps you locked in place directly on his lap. You squirm under his hold and it only makes his breathy chuckle tickle your skin, his lips just barely brushing against your neck.

He loosens his hold on you for only a moment to pick the blunt off of the shingles, placing it between your lips while mumbling “Hold this” before his arms are tight around you again. He plants his feet against the roof and slides backwards, shimmying you both up to a flat section to sit more comfortably.

As he releases you from his grasp, you’re reluctant to leave. Lifting your hips from their home on his lap, you plop down onto the flat section of the roof next to him. He wasn’t kidding about this being his spot, there’s already an ashtray up here with cigarette butts sprinkled in the bowl. And you can’t really blame him for coming up here, the sky is orange and pink with clouds stretching thinly across the horizon, the city’s silhouette faintly in the distance, tall trees forming a barrier around the back of the apartment that feels safe and protected, it’s honestly really nice, peaceful.

Sukuna pulls his lighter out of his pocket, sparks sprinkling with each flick of the wheel until it holds a steady flame. He leans in close, holding the light against the end of the blunt that you held between your teeth.

“Breathe in.” His gaze is dropped to your lips, free hand reaching up to gently hold the blunt steady against your mouth with his thumb and forefinger.

As you inhale you see orange embers form at the end of the blunt, smoke rapidly filling your lungs and stinging the back of your throat. You can’t keep the smoke down, immediately hacking up a painful burning cough that only makes him snicker.

“Hm, you’ll get it eventually.” He brings the blunt to his lips and inhales a long hit, holding his breath for a few seconds before teasingly blowing the smoke into your face.

“Ugh,” You fan your hand in front of your face to clear the smoke, “That’s terrible. It tastes so gross.”

He smirks and rolls his eyes, flicking the ash into the small tray, “So dramatic, ‘ts not that bad.”

Your eyes are glued to his fingers, holding the blunt with his pointer finger and thumb and tapping ash away with his middle, the veins on the back of his hand gently protruding out and then settling back into place with each tap of his finger. As your eyes drift to the ashtray and you realize that there are only orange cigarette butts in the bowl, no snuffed out roaches from him smoking anything else.

You pull your knees up to your chest, tilting your head to rest your cheek on your legs when you look up at him, “How come you’re getting high?”

“Needed it tonight.” His answer was quicker than you expected, his eyes locked on the city lights shining in the distance.

“How come?”

His head doesn’t move, but his eyes flick to you. Wordlessly he holds the blunt towards you, the expectant look in his eyes and quirk in his brow telling you that he’s not planning to give you an answer until you take another hit.

You let out a small huff, taking the blunt from his fingers and taking a short drag, trying to hold the smoke in your lungs and keeping your lips sealed shut to try not to cough. Your attempt was futile though, your cheeks puffing out and smoke blowing out of your nose as your throat burned again.

He let out a small snicker at your misery, letting one of his legs lay outstretched across the slant of the roof while he bent his knee on his other leg to rest his chin on, “Brat’s working his first day at his new job tonight.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, your lips dragging down into a frown, “Brat being… who?”

He scoffs, like the answer to that should be so obvious, “My brother, the one you met.”

You hum in acknowledgment, but you’re still confused what that has to do with Sukuna wanting to get high, “What’s the new job?”

He blows a raspberry, tilting his head up towards the sky while he takes another drag, smoke echoing off his lips as he speaks, “Firefighter, been his dream job since we were kids.”

Realization clicks in your brain, making a smile creep onto your lips, “You big softie, you’re worried about him!”

“Tch.” He glares down at you, but his frustrated look only makes you giggle. The look in his eyes quickly softens, shifting to a look of amusement as he leans in closer to you and peers into your eyes. You let out a little laugh, opening your eyes wide to stare goofily at him and causing a smile to crack on his face, “Are you high already?”

“No!” You counter defensively, “You’re just… cute.”

Oh fuck, I’m totally high.

He gives you a lopsided grin, “You’re a terrible fuckin’ liar.”

You giggle and flop onto your back, lying flat on the roof, “Stop changing the topic! We’re talking about you!” You reach your arm out to point in his face, “You’re worried about him! You love him!”

“Ugh,” He gives you an exaggerated eye roll, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist and pulling it down out of his face, “I absolutely do not.”

You give him a toothy smile, poorly mimicking his deep voice, “Terrible fuckin’ liar.”

A deep laugh bubbles up from his chest, his gravelly voice sounding so breathy and happy, creases forming at the outer corners of his tired eyes. He releases your wrist from his grasp, planting his open palm next to your head and resting his weight on his arm to lean the slightest bit closer to you, his free hand bringing the blunt up to his lips as he tilts his head down to look at you with an uncharacteristically sweet smile, “So stupid.”

You can’t help but giggle under his gaze, the warm orange glow of the sunset reflecting in his heavy lidded eyes, a thin ring of crimson around his blown out pupils. His lips wrapping around the dwindling blunt and taking a long hit as the embers come alight. He leans down and gently blows the smoke into your face, making you squeeze your eyes shut.

He gently knocks his knuckle against your cheek to get you to open your eyes, gesturing the blunt to you, “Give me one more.”

You let out an over dramatic groan, covering your face with your hands, “No I’ll choke! I need you to baby bird it to me.”

He quirks his brow, a mischievous smirk curling on the corners of his lips, “Baby bird? Like spit it in your mouth?” He lets out a small chuckle. You part your hands away from your face to peer up at him as he takes another drag, holding the smoke in his mouth as he cups your chin to tilt your head towards him and leans down close to your face, smoke on his breath fanning your lips as he whispers, “Like this?”

Your mouth opens slightly in surprise as his lips are mere millimeters away from yours, gently exhaling smoke into your parted lips. Your cheeks burn red and your wide eyes stare up into his lazily lidded ones, already trained on you. You slowly breathe in the smoke, feeling him lean closer towards you, his gaze dropping down as his lips just barely brush against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, heart pounding in your chest as you feel his fingers trace their way from your chin along your jaw, tilting your head slightly to perfectly slot your lips with his-

But the moment abruptly comes to a halt as Sukuna’s phone loudly rings in his pocket, the ring tone blaring “I like big butts and I cannot lie!” as he freezes in place and both of your eyes shoot open.

“Pfft!” You throw your head back in laughter, your chin clocking Sukuna in the jaw as he shoots up straight and mutters curses under his breath, frantically fumbling for his phone in his pocket.

The obnoxious music quickly stops as he answers the phone, rubbing the sore spot on his jaw as he spoke with a hint of panic in his voice, “Yuuji?”

Even though he wasn’t on speaker phone, you could hear Yuuji loud and clear, emphasis on loud as Sukuna flinched the phone away from his ear as Yuuji yelled out the small speakers, “Guess who saved a cat at work today!”

You could see a look of relief wash over Sukuna’s face, but he didn’t let it translate into his voice, speaking in a low and annoyed tone, “I was hoping you’d die in a fire.”

Yuuji belted out a loud laugh on the other line, “Not yet! But don’t take it off your bingo card!”

A wide smile spreads across your face, yelling loud enough for Yuuji to hear, “You had him worried sic- mmph!”

Sukuna shoved his palm over your mouth, shooting a glare down at you as he spoke to Yuuji, “Ignore them.”

You tried to bite his hand over your mouth and he whispered “Fucking brat” down to you as Yuuji rambled about his first day at work, something about a cat being stuck in a tree and how he thought that was a myth but it’s totally a real thing. It quickly became clear that the moment between you and Sukuna had fizzled out, but he was probably just teasing you anyway right? It definitely meant nothing, surely. If Yuuji hadn’t called he would have just backed away and laughed at you or something.

He wasn’t actually gonna kiss you… right?

A/N: DONT KILL ME WE’LL GET THERE EVENTUALLY!! Anyway y’all like Yuuji’s ring tone I thought it suited him askakaka Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

[luvelve]

˚ · . sweet blue - k. mingyu

summary: your husband’s not very good at asking for things, not even for a shave. but of course, he gets it either way.

pairing: husband!mingyu x afab!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

warnings/tags: kissing, shaving, mentions of use of a blade

a/n: i took a long and unexpected break from writing and i’m happy to be back <3 this has been sitting in my drafts for sooooo long and i finally finished it today. the ending was kinda rushed but i wanted to publish it either way to kinda get myself out of this slump. as always, feedback & likes/reblogs are always welcome :)

the dark colored marble touches the front of your thighs as you inch closer, which surprises you but you try your best not to flinch because of the task at hand. at this moment, you feel like an artist, a sculptor if you will; carefully carving clay with utmost precision. except you’re not a sculptor, and you’re not carving clay. you’re in your bathroom giving your husband, mingyu, a shave.

this was new for the both of you, as mingyu always just shaved his incredibly slow growing mustache by himself. what started all this is him seeing you in your nightstand or in the bathroom doing your makeup and skincare, and he finds it all so amusing. he swears harps and violins play in the background when you’re in your own little world, dusting your cheeks with blush, taking your mascara off, or applying lip balm? lip… stick? lip…. whatever it is that you put on your lips, he thinks to himself. all he knows is that he can watch you do it all day. but he’s also left wondering, how it would feel to do what you do on him.

for some reason, mingyu isn’t able to muster up the courage to ask you straightforward to do his skincare, but he is able to ask you to be the one to shave him since he tells you its that time of the month where his mustache gotten too long for his liking. he comes up with the excuse of not doing the job well enough, and that his face gets all ‘itchy’ afterwards. which is all a lie of course, but it’s enough to convince you to do what he asks of you.

and so you find yourself in your shared bathroom at nine in the morning, standing in between your husband’s legs as he sits on the counter, both of your faces inches from each other. the room is silent but not eery, it’s a comfortable silence. mingyu had joyfully shown you the things he uses for his shaving routine: a cheap razor, shaving cream, some aftershave seokmin had recommended to him, and a towel.

“you really should get one of those good quality razors. not these disposable ones.” you scold mingyu softly, looking at him sternly with one hand resting on his head and the other holding the razor.

“but they’re expensive.” he extends the last syllable in protest, his reply a bit garbled as he tries his best not to move his mouth too much. you know mingyu well enough that he would be pouting at this moment, if only you weren’t shaving his upper lip.

you’re too focused on the task at hand that you don’t bother arguing with the giant sulky man in front of you. you continue making slow downward strokes using the razor, watching the hair slowly disappear. mingyu doesn’t have a lot of hair on his face like other guys but you take your time, making sure to get the job done right. it is, after all, your first time.

your husband watches as your lips contort out of focus; a habit of yours that he’s taken notice and grown fond of over the years. every now and then , you get rid of the hair and cream, swishing the razor in the sink that’s filled about halfway in water. mingyu feels nothing else but happiness and content in this very moment that he’s internally doing jumping jacks.

your resting hand shifts from his head and onto his cheek to get better leverage and mingyu just has to lean in to your touch. he relishes the feeling of your warm hand and then looks at you with adoration in his eyes.

“baby…” you raise your eyebrows at him, wondering what on earth he’s doing this for in the middle of a shave. mingyu doesn’t react to your words but instead shoots you a small derpy smile, and only you would know what he means.

if there’s one thing your husband is good at, it’s getting you to give him your love and attention without even saying anything. there are nights when mingyu comes home exhausted and all he has to do is stand there in your doorway, signalling to you that he wants to be in your embrace. or when you get up earlier than him and you find him just as he’s about to wake up; he’s buried in the sheets, hair all messy, just laying there, silently telling you that he wants a taste of your lips before his morning coffee.

and it’s the same thing he’s doing now. you let out a small sigh as you tilt your head a bit in fake annoyance before you lean in to connect your lips with his. it’s quick but it’s enough that mingyu lets out a hum of contentment. you pull back and he giggles as your lips catches some of the shaving cream, giving yourself a tiny little mustache.

“happy?” you quickly reply, and mingyu catches you to plant another kiss on your lips, placing his hand on your cheek to deepen the kiss a bit.

“very.” he says, as he swipes the pad of his thumb on your upper lip to get rid of the shaving cream he transferred onto you. his giggles bounce off the quiet walls of your bathroom.

“now can you sit still so i can finish this little bit that’s left?” you say to him, and he replies with a small nod and a sheepish smile, one that’s big enough that his canines show through. mingyu feels like a sixth grader who just kissed his crush. if the marble counter wasn’t in the way, he’d be kicking his feet.

you finish the small patch of hair that he has left and you proceed to put aftershave on him, assuming it is what you put after one shaves. you put a little bit on your hands and you’re thrown off by its strong musky scent. surely this can’t be good for his skin, you think to yourself.

“babe, you really use this stuff? i think this is way too strong for you.” you say with a worried look on your face. “well… seokmin told me it was good so i just used it too.” he replies.

“well yeah, it could be working for him but for you… i’m not too sure. i don’t know… i’m just worried.” you trail off, getting some tissue to rid your hands of the product and his eyes follow you around the bathroom while you do so. you shuffle back to stand in between mingyu’s legs, “i’ll go get something from my stuff instead.”

he watches as you momentarily leave the room to grab something from your vanity. he waits in the bathroom like a five year old waiting for his mom at the grocery counter. he hears the sound of your drawer open and close and it makes him chew at his lower lip in excitement.

“okay, this should do the job.” you say as you take the product onto your hands and pat it gently on your husband’s annoyingly smooth face. you make sure to cover all the parts that the blade has touched, and your head tilts left and right trying to make sure you didn’t miss any spot.

the way his eyes light up and follow your every move don’t go unnoticed by you. his hands make their way to rest on your hips again, squeezing every so gently as not to distract you.

“aaand, that’s the last bit of it.” you say, tightening the cap of your moisturizer and setting it down on the counter. mingyu internally pouts because the task is done, nonetheless he still props himself off the counter to take a look in the mirror.

“thank you, baby.” he says softly, shooting you a sweet smile as he turns to face you again. his arms snake around your waist to pull you in for a kiss and just when your noses touch, you pause. “you know… we still have a bit of time before we have to head out. why don’t we go back to bed for a little while?”

mingyu instantly picks up on what you’re trying to say and of course he jumps on the opportunity, “yeah?” he questions, and you nod as you wrap your arms around his neck. “well you know i can’t say not to that.” his smile reaching from one ear to the other. he leans down to attach his lips to yours as the both of you slowly walk backwards into your bedroom.

“oh, one more thing.” you mumble, momentarily breaking away from the kiss. “mhmm..” mingyu hums, and you feel it rumble in his chest. “i know you don’t get ‘itchy’ after you shave, it was just an excuse to get me to do it for you.” your tone is playful, and right then and there mingyu knows you’ve got him.

“what-huh? n-yes, i do!” your husband stutters, his ears turning red in embarrassment. “sweetheart, you really expect me to believe that? i know you like the back of my hand.” you reply. before mingyu is able to say anything else, you grab his arm and lead him out of your bedroom. “now let’s go, you owe me a yummy breakfast.”

[hxxsxxng]

the thing about roommate jake is…

pairing : roommate!jake x fem!reader ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡.• mdni

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡.•

roommate jake is ALWAYS craving physical touch. he is always coming up with excuses to be in your room, cuddled with you in your bed. some nights it was an innocent reason like he was ‘washing his bedding’ or ‘it was too cold in his room’. but the vast majority of nights, it was for a more sexual reason. he would wrap his arm around your waist, sliding under your shirt to cup your chest while he nuzzeled his face into the back of your neck. just scooting a little closer, you could feel the tent in his pants pressing against your ass. “jake!” you sighed. “whaaaat, babydoll?” he acted oblivious.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡.•

roommate jake would browse online to find the lingerie he thinks you would look perfect in and wraps it up and leave for you for when you got home. he leaves a cutely wrapped gift box on your pillow as a supprise. some times he would leave a card with it too, reading things like “you looked so beautiful tonight” or “i miss you”.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡.•

the only way you could ever repay jake for buying you such expensive gifts was letting him see you wear it. this is probably why he liked spending so much time in your room, you doing little fashion shows for all of the sets he has bought you. eventually, when the pressure in his pants builds up enough from viewing each of your outfits, he would throw you on the bed, and tear it right back off of you. each night that he left the presents, you sent a little thank you photo of you wearing it. different poses flattering each different set that he bought, he kept a folder of your ‘try on’ photos in his camera roll.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡.•

roommate jake makes sure you are taken care of. he hated seeing you sick, or in pain. he had a pretty good immune system, but you on the other hand, got a sinus infection practically every week in the winter. he would make sure you had warm soup brought to your room every night along with some antibiotics. he would sit on the edge of your bed and graze your legs with his fingers, trying to distract you from your uncomfortableness. or maybe he would lay in the bed next to you, brushing your hair behind your ear, admiring you while you spoke. sometimes doctor jake would suggest engaging in alternate treatment methods as well.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡.•

he is very handsy but is also careful when touching your body. though jake has done these things a thousand times over, he will still ask if it is okay every. single. time. he is a gentle lover, he likes the little things. wrapping his hand around your waist when y’all are grocery shopping. gripping your thigh when his is driving. they are all little reminders how much you drive him crazy. on those nights when he has found himself in your bed, instead of kissing you senseless, he would gently trace your skin with his calloused fingertips, and press soft kisses to your jawline and neck. he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡.•

roommate jake has an oral fixation. he loves biting and sucking on any of your body parts that he can. but his favorite was definitely your nipples. he would effortlessly swipe his tongue across them while having his eyes closed, humming with contentment. he was patient and slow. jake wasn’t one of those men who were quick to jump into bed. he preferred to explore you first, before diving in headfirst. it gave him the chance to savor your reactions and focus on your pleasure, rather than his own.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡.•

roommate jake loves cooking with you. him in the kitchen with his selves half rolled up, and your cute little maroon apron was so adorable. you were never really the greatest cook, so jake took pride in the fact that he was your own personal cooking tutor. he stands behind you with his chest pressed against your back, and guides your hands measuring each ingredient, like a marionette. he would lean down and smell your vanilla scented hair and leave kisses on the side of your neck while you attempted his recipies.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡.•

taglist : @jakeflvrz

inspo from : @heeseungsbm 💓

[ladyymiisa]

MONEY, MONEY, MONEY!

summary: your loving boyfriend who spoils you rotten!

tags: hawks x fem!reader, barista!reader, fem pronouns used for reader, fluff

author’s note: hi sexies!!! i literally can’t stop thinking about hawks spoiling his gf god i want him so bad

it’s no secret that hawks is rich. being a hero has not only given him popularity but also a paycheque that would make anyone’s eyes pop out if they saw the numbers on it. like, this man’s credit card is black. that’s how rich he is. and you’d think he’d try to display it, right? maybe by driving a really expensive car, like a ferrari or something, or by only wearing designer clothes.

haha, wrong.

for as wealthy as he is, hawks rarely spoils himself. perhaps he feels selfish to have all of this, despite how hard he’s worked for it. he tells himself that it’s because he’s too busy to actually relish in everything that he owns, that he has more important matters to focus on, but a part of him knows that they’re just excuses to make up for how hung up he is on the past.

the past of his criminal, alcoholic father and emotionally distant mother, the past of his abuse and how neglected he was. because of it, he can’t bring himself to actually enjoy the things others would kill for.

at least until he meets you.

he meets you and suddenly he finds a new purpose for his money, other than keeping it in his bank account to collect dust.

to spoil you, of course!

to me, hawks is more of a giver rather than a receiver and i will die on this hill. he loves to pamper you, shower you in the most expensive gifts known to man and take you on the fanciest dates. from designer shoes to jewellery that would cost you three years worth of rent, this man makes it his life mission to ensure that you only get the best of the best.

and at first, it all seems like too much. you’re just an ordinary civilian working as a barista, nothing special. you don’t consider yourself someone worthy of being hawks’ object of affection, but hawks, sorry, keigo makes sure to put a stop to those silly thoughts immediately. besides the expensive gifts, he also shows you daily just how much you mean to him, which is more precious than any pair of diamond earrings he could ever gift you.

for as busy as he is, keigo never leaves you hanging, no matter how busy he is.

showing up on your balcony late at night with a bouquet of your favourite flowers in hand if he isn’t able to visit you during your day shift, or washing the dishes for you if you’re too tired are some of the ways in which he shows his love.

and you grow greedy because of it. everything be damned, you slowly turn into a spoiled princess and it’s all his fault.

do you feel guilty about it? maybe just a little. but only because you no longer shy away from asking keigo to buy you stuff.

oh, look! a perfume you’ve been eyeing for a while just became available online? all you have to do is bat your eyelashes prettily at him and next thing you know you have a small package waiting by your doorstep the following day.

your favourite makeup brand dropped a new collection? surely he won’t mind if you get every product available.

hm? you’re still working at that coffee shop? well, not anymore! keigo can’t possibly have his pretty baby working herself to death when he’s right there to ensure that you’re living as comfortably as possible. after all, there’s no need for you to work! your rent is taken care of by him and his credit card is basically yours, so don’t worry your pretty head about such silly things! he’s got you covered.

but in the end, it’s not those gifts that make you fall asleep with a smile on your face at night. it’s his love that has your heart fluttering inside your chest whenever he gives you that boyish grin of his, it’s his love that leaves your cheeks feeling sore after he says such a horrible joke that you can’t help but laugh at. and keigo makes sure to shower you in his love every single day. he is a pretty generous man after all.

[bayjaruchel]

Whammy Kiss Me (Whammy Hug)

－－－

Pairing: Clapton Davis/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven isn't a pointless party game, after all. (3.9k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

－－－

It's not until the closet door shuts that you realize the gravity of your current situation. 

You've been at the party for at least a couple of hours; you've grown used to the general noise. The slight haziness of the air. You're not quite hammered yet, but you've got one or two drinks in your system. Just enough that you can enjoy the feeling without worrying about the hangover tomorrow. Judging by the way that a couple of people had been giggling and swaying, not everyone who was sitting around the circle shared your sense of self-conservation. 

Although it hadn't been the brightest outside— it was dim, but also somewhat illuminated at the same time with the neon lighting— the single lightbulb hanging above your heads doesn't do much against the darkness. 

Yeah. Heads, plural. 

Luckily, there's only one person in the cramped space besides yourself. 

Unluckily, that person is one Clapton Davis. 

It's not that you don't like him. Actually, you feel the exact opposite towards him, but that's not the point. It's just that— you know, you could spend seven minutes just sitting in silence, doing absolutely nothing— but you're suddenly hyper-aware of the way your knees are brushing. The way there's something in the air. Maybe you're just imagining it, but there's something … restless. Something like—  

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when he speaks. 

"So," he says, casually. As if you're not within necking distance in a cramped space. "You enjoying the party?" There's that same easy grin on his face. He's completely at ease, apparently. You're not sure if that's because of his ever-present (and sometimes misguided) confidence, or because he's used to stupid little party games like this. It's probably a combination of both. 

"Yeah." You find yourself replying, almost on autopilot. "The punch isn't as bad as I thought it would be." 

Clapton honest-to-god giggles at that. "It's still pretty shitty, though."

"I wouldn't say shitty."  

"Awful, then." He raises his eyebrows. "Let's just say that it's an … acquired taste." 

You can't help but smile. "Fair." He's right— you're pretty sure that the only people who actually enjoy it are the people who regularly attend these parties. Said people usually just come to get drunk, anyway, and the punch works wonders. Magically malicious.  

"It's either that or cheap beer," he muses. "Or wine busted from mommy and daddy's fridge in the basement." 

"Expensive wine?" 

"Could be." Clapton shrugs, pulling his knees closer to his chest. You try in vain not to focus on his arms as he wraps them around his legs. Was it really necessary to wear the tank top? "Maybe," he says. "But I doubt that anyone here would wanna drink it." 

You unconsciously mirror his posture. "Why's that?" 

He snorts. "Too classy." 

It sort of makes sense. You can't really see Josh from Calculus sipping a glass of pinot noir, much less enjoying it. Maybe one has to start from the bottom of the hypothetical alcohol pyramid and work their way up. The bottom, meaning Bud Light. Or Coors Light. All of the Lights. 

"Cheap beer it is, then." 

Clapton's grin is back. 

"Unfortunately." 

You're starting to relax, even if you can still feel your heart pounding whenever his eyes meet yours. Even if your eyes are lingering. When he reaches up to idly run his fingers through his hair, you can't stop yourself from wondering: is it as soft as it looks? 

"How much time d'you think we have left?" He asks, just as you're attempting to reel yourself back in. 

"Uh," you start. Nice. "I don't know— maybe, like, four minutes or so?" Spending a couple of minutes talking about drinks wasn't exactly the plan, but you're not exactly complaining. It's still better than awkward silence. You wonder— again— about how many times he's done this before. How long does it usually take before people give in? 

The muffled music from outside has been reduced to just the thumping of the bass, and the rhythm matches your pulse. 

"Four minutes," he echoes. 

You can't hold his gaze, glancing down at your knees instead. 

"Yeah." 

You can tell when Clapton adjusts himself where he's sitting, but you have a feeling that he hasn't looked away. Not yet. 

"What do you wanna do now?" He asks, innocently. "Four minutes is a long time." 

When you look up, you're proven right. The faint glow of the light doesn't hide anything. It just makes everything feel vaguely dreamlike. And, okay. This is pretty cliche. But you've watched too many movies, seen too many shows—  you know what that look is. That look doesn't mean that he wants to play rock-paper-scissors for the remainder of your time left. 

"I don't know," you manage. "What do you want to do?" 

His eyes dip briefly before flicking back up. 

"I was asking you," he teases softly. "We've already had a pointless conversation." He mimes checking a box midair with his pointer finger. "Check. And we've already sat in silence for a couple of seconds." He repeats the motion on another imaginary box. "Check." 

"Oh, ouch. Talking about alcohol is pointless?" You're a little amused. "So, what's left on the list?" 

Clapton raises his eyebrows again. 

There's a shift in the air. 

"C'mon, don't tell me that you actually don't know." His tone's dropped to little more than a whisper, but due to your closeness, you can hear him loud and clear. Your brief bit of confidence wanes— your face warms, and you pause. Sure, you're well aware of what he's implying— but you're not sure if he's just joking around or not. When has Clapton Davis ever been serious, besides that one time he competed in a skateboarding competition in the sixth grade?  

The lighthearted lilt in his voice is almost gone, though. 

"I know what you're trying to say," you finally reply, matching his volume. And you do want to kiss him. You really, really do. 

"Okay," he murmurs in return. "Well, that's good." He dares to smile, though you know you're weak to it. 

"I don't have to ask you out loud, right?" 

He definitely already knows the answer to that question. 

"Yeah, you don't." 

You've tuned out the outside world, muffled as it already was. The music and noise fade to a quiet hum. You can hear the quiet buzz of the lightbulb— the barely audible clattering as your back moves against the uncomfortable storage shelves— the sound of his sneakers scuffing against the hardwood floor— 

"But if I did ask," he says, uncharacteristically hesitant, "you'd say yes?"  

Your heartbeat thrums in your throat. 

The seconds tick by— you know you can't wait. It's been at least a minute and a half— 

"Just do it," you breathe.   

And he does. 

The first thing you register is how soft his lips are. Then, his hands— cupping your face— your own hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, tugging him closer. His hair is as soft as it looks. There's no slow build-up because there's no time for that. All you can think about is him— the little sounds he lets out as you kiss, the way he can't wait when you part, his breath briefly coming in soft pants before he leans in to capture your lips again. He tastes vaguely like beer, and maybe that would have bothered you if it were any other guy— but with him, you don't really care at all. His nose presses a little awkwardly against yours a couple of times, but he makes up for it with how eager he is. You know he's not a bad kisser; he's just impatient. 

You lose yourself for a little while. It feels like forever. You wrap your arms around his neck, reluctantly dropping your grip on his hair. His hands start to stray, one anchoring itself behind your neck and the other traveling lower. And lower— 

There's a loud series of knocks at the door. 

Clapton's slower to react, and you're the one to pull back first. When you do, he leans forward to chase your lips—  but stops upon noticing your expression. In direct comparison to you, he just looks giddy. Almost dazed. His hair's a little disheveled from earlier, and he hasn't let go of you yet. 

"Huh," he says, before the door is yanked open. 

You're immediately greeted by exactly what you had expected. Whistles. Catcalls. General hooting. Some "called it!"s and "you owe me five bucks, man!"s. 

Clapton just grins, reveling in it all. Because of course he would. But, before you can get too embarrassed, he's getting to his feet, pulling you along with him as you both exit the closet— exiting what had previously been your own little world. Instead of just rejoining the circle, like part of you expects him to do, he pauses to lean over to you and whisper: 

"Wanna go upstairs?" 

You blink at him. He's still smiling— he almost looks star-struck. You feel that familiar swoop in your stomach. Maybe it's a stupid decision that you'll regret later, but—

"Okay," you agree. 

The whistling doesn't stop as he grabs your wrist, making a beeline for the stairs. The son of a bitch takes them two at a time, and you do your best to keep up. Upstairs, it's quieter than it is on the ground floor, since there are fewer people up here; still, though, you can hear the music echoing through the hallway. A girl's laughter rings out, followed by a string of giggles. 

It's not very hard to find an empty bedroom. You gingerly shut the door behind you, taking a moment to look around. There are one or two posters here and there, and a few photos placed on the dresser. Other than that, it's kind of bare-bones. A guest room, maybe? You sure hope so. While you're distracted, Clapton leisurely sits down on the bed, bouncing a couple of times. 

"Cozy," he remarks, and you turn to look at him. 

"You think?" 

He grins. "Sure do." 

You sit next to him on the mattress. It's not bad. For a moment, he just looks at you. Taking you in. 

But he doesn't hesitate much longer, and leans in. Automatically, you angle your head just so. Unlike before, he kisses you in small pecks at first. One of his hands finds your cheek. However, as the minutes draw by, your kisses grow longer. More languid. He hums into your mouth, and you move closer. Closer, until your thighs are brushing his, and you're nearly off-balance, but it's still not close enough. 

He draws back. This close to him, you can pick out his freckles. His eyelashes are long, framing half-lidded eyes. His lips are still parted. 

"Should I lay back?" He asks, hushed. "Or do you wanna—" 

"Go ahead," you interrupt.  

Clapton flops backward onto the pillows, wiggling around to make himself more comfortable. When you think he's got himself in a good position, you crawl over him. The way he looks up at you— it makes you a little lightheaded, but in the best way possible. His hands find your waist. You can do little but settle against him, pressing your lips to his for the nth time. 

Enthusiastically, he responds, and it's not long before your kisses grow messier. Needier. His hands wander, moving down to rest on your hips, and then lower— you let out a gasp when he squeezes your ass, and he uses the opportunity to pull you harder against him. You're no stranger to how strong his arms are, but, yeah, being on top of him like this is an entirely new experience. He's soft and firm in equal measures, his chest sturdy where it's pressed against yours. His hands are warm when he moves them under your shirt, up your back, making you shiver.  

Bracing your hands on his torso, you sit up. For a second, he's confused, but that quickly fades away as you reach down to pull up your shirt. 

"Holy shit," he murmurs. He scrambles to discard his tank top too, yanking it over his head. You were right— he's toned, but there's still a fair bit of softness there. Of course his chest doesn't have any hair, but at least he kept the trail. You lay back on top of him, the feeling of his skin against yours like this causing you to shudder again. Clapton's hands start to explore once more— square palms, strong fingers. It must be a little bit of an uncomfortable stretch for him, but his thumbs find your nipples, tracing soft circles. 

You briefly enjoy the sensation. Then, your breath stutters when he gently urges you forward and then leans up so he can take them into his mouth. It must be self-indulgent for him, too, because he spends more time than necessary— sucking, flicking his tongue— but it's not like you're complaining.  

When he finally stops, he presses a kiss to the middle of your chest before laying back on the pillows. You move back down, and can't resist the urge to kiss him in return. His jaw— his cheek, which makes him smile. He's already started hooking his fingers in your waistband, and your mild surprise must show on your face, because he abruptly stops. 

"Sorry," he grimaces, "am I going too fast? I - Is that too much?" 

Hastily, you shake your head. "Oh, no. Not at all. It's fine. Just— it just caught me off-guard."  

"Okay." The worry vanishes in an instant. "Okay, I'm gonna." 

You let him slide down your bottoms, and then take them off the rest of the way yourself. His shorts quickly join the rest of the clothing on the floor. Now, you're more or less sitting in his lap— he props himself up on the headboard, his breath heavy as you shift on top of him. With only a few layers between you, you're aware of the shape of him through his boxers.  

You grind your hips with purpose, and he swears under his breath. When you do it again, he muffles himself by kissing you. The friction— you know it's not going to be enough— makes you more desperate, and it must be having the same effect on him, judging by the way he's slightly squirming underneath you. He's not quite thrusting up against you, but it's obvious that if he were in a better position, he would be. When your cunt brushes against him, catching at that angle, he moans openly into your mouth. You draw back only for air. If you could, you'd keep kissing him forever. 

"You gonna let me— mmh — fuck you?" He pants, "ohmygod, 'cause if you don't, you— you are one sick bastard—"  

You smile, although you want him just as badly as he wants you. You're doing a slightly better job at keeping yourself composed, after all. "I don't know," you murmur, "isn't this nice?" 

Clapton bites his lip when you grind down harder this time. "I — well," his hands scramble on your waist, your hips, "it is pretty nice, but, like — I just wanna take the logical— shitfuck — next step, right?" He's looking up at you with wide eyes, "and you are gonna let me, right?" 

"Right," you repeat, your breath catching when you roll your hips at just the right angle, "I am gonna let you, don't worry." 

He's flushed a pretty pink, pupils blown wide, obscuring hazel eyes; you drink him in. "Thought so," he grins. Before you can ask, he's already answering. "And, uh. There's a condom in the pocket of my shorts, if you're worried about that." 

You're in mild disbelief, abruptly halting your movements. 

"In your—?" 

Clapton looks a little bashful, though he's still grinning. "Could you just get it?"  

You're already awkwardly dismounting his lap. "Sure, sure." True to his word, there's a condom in the left pocket of his shorts, and you fish it out without a problem. You glance back at him for a moment, and he doesn't even try and pretend that he wasn't staring. Oh, well. A little clumsily, you get back onto the bed, and move to straddle him again— but he gently stops you. 

"Hey," he says, "can we switch places?" 

You don't need much time to consider it. "Alright." 

Now, he's hovering between your legs, and you're the one lying back. His gaze lingers, but he can't wait for much longer. You lift your hips, and he slides your last remaining piece of fabric off. 

"Fuck," he breathes, just before he gets to work. With the pad of one of his fingers, he collects the wetness that had been gathering, then smoothly slides the digit into your cunt. Swiftly, he adds another, the sensation odd at first, but you know you'll quickly get used to it. When he begins to lightly trace your clit, it only makes it easier for you to loosen up— both figuratively and literally. And he's still adding another. Maybe three fingers aren't strictly necessary, but he crooks them, finding the spot that makes an almost embarrassing noise tumble from your lips. 

You spread your thighs wider. You could definitely cum like this if you let him continue for a while. Glancing up at his face— oh, he definitely would if you wanted him to. He's torn between looking at how his fingers disappear into you and your face. How you're reacting to his touch. It's a little flattering. But as much as part of you wants to see what he's willing to do — 

"I'm — " You feel yourself tense, and you barely stifle an involuntary moan when he thumbs your nub again. "I'm ready. You can —" 

He doesn't even wait until you finish the sentence. He's already pulling out his fingers, tugging off his boxers. Your eyes are immediately drawn downward. Again, you're not surprised that he's shaved. Length-wise, he's probably around average, but girth-wise he's nice and thick. There's a bead of precum at the tip— if he wasn't already tearing open the condom with his teeth in a move that he's probably practiced before, you would've offered to blow him or something. Maybe some other time. 

Your idle thoughts dissipate when he lines himself up and, with an amount of care that nearly belies his previous neediness, presses in. You both moan in unison— he sounds infinitely more strained. He takes a moment to catch his breath, but— 

He starts moving. Little thrusts, at first. Then, pulling out more, pushing back in. His mouth falls open, and you can't resist throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him down. He groans, and you take it in, taking it with his increasing pace. It's good— his thumb finds your sensitive apex again, and that makes you jolt, but you know he's trying to give you a smooth progression between slow and fast. That's not what you want, though. Especially not now. Inches from his lips, you mutter: 

"Don't hold back." 

And that's all it takes. You can vaguely hear the bed creaking when he snaps his hips up to meet yours, roughly fucking into you with almost reckless abandon. Your kisses are sloppy, uncoordinated. But you wouldn't prefer it any other way. You know he probably wouldn't be making those noises if he didn't know they were muffled against you. Some are high-pitched— ragged gasps, moans, and at least one whimper. You also know you don't sound much different. He can't reach down to rub your throbbing clit anymore, due to how he's positioned, but the way that he's angled is more than satisfying in that regard. 

You lose track of time, only aware of his hips colliding against yours— his lips, his hands — the way he's starting to babble. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he confesses in a rush, "god, your eyes. I could just — I could just look at you like this forever. If you could see yourself — nnh — you would know." A sharp intake of breath, a few kisses, and then, "Ohfuck. Shit. You're gonna ruin this forever for me. I can't — " 

His rhythm is starting to falter. You can feel the heat pooling low in your gut, the tension that comes before the inevitable release. You tighten around him. His hands braced near your shoulders tremble, and you can see his biceps flexing with the effort of holding himself up like this. 

"Please," Clapton chokes out, and he doesn't specify as to what he wants, but you have a pretty good idea. "I'm gonna— " 

"Do it," you manage, despite your own climbing pitch, "c'mon, give it to me—"    

"Fuck— "  You feel him pulse. For a split second, you wonder how it would feel if he didn't have on the condom—  but your thoughts are quickly overtaken, as you're not too far behind. You twitch, spasming around his cock as your mouth falls open. The tension peaks, the heat spikes— 

He fucks you, gently, as you float back down, riding out your orgasm. Your eyelids flutter shut, and your breath slows, but your pulse is still a fast-paced staccato. 

He gingerly lays on top of you, catching his breath. It's hot against your throat. The world ceases spinning, and you let out a long sigh. 

He mimics it, and you glance down at him. 

You're reluctant to say it, but seriously, this is someone else's house. Guest room or not. 

"We should get cleaned up or something." 

He blinks once, lazily. Seemingly, he's content to lay on your chest. Of course, he's the type to get sleepy after sex. But at least he makes an effort to respond. "Ugh," he says. And then: "Jus' gimme a minute or something." 

You give him a look, and he surrenders. "Okay, fine." 

He slips out with a wet noise, and you only miss the fullness for a moment. Getting off the mattress, he throws out the condom, then accepts the wad of tissues you hand him. It's not the best, but it'll have to do for now. You manage to get most of the evidence of your arousal off before pulling back on your clothes. There's a mirror, thankfully, so you go to try and make yourself look less … fucked. Not that it would really matter. There are definitely people in worse states. 

Clapton stands next to you, but doesn't even try to fix his hair. On him, it looks fashionably disheveled, anyway. 

It's silent, before he interjects: 

"Is this … gonna be just a one-time thing?" 

The strange apprehensiveness is back, and you chance a glance at him. He's not meeting your eyes, but you're sure he's looking at you in the mirror's reflection. 

"I don't know," is all you can think to say, "do you want it to be?" A beat. "We could totally go back to being just sort of friends, if that's what you want." 

Clapton visibly swallows. "I … " 

You wait, patiently. He takes another few seconds. 

"I liked that," he mutters, "a lot. And I— I meant all that stuff. About you." 

He's still not meeting your eyes. It makes you pause. 

"I liked it too," you reply, softly.

The look he gives you next says it all. You know he's not big on old-school romance. He's not big on flowery words— his English grades can certainly attest to that. He's more of an action-oriented guy. Even if you don't get a verbal confession just yet— and you know you will, just not now— you suddenly understand what he's trying to convey. So, you pull yourself together and throw caution to the wind. 

"You wanna get out of here?" 

He beams. 

[dcxdpdabbles]

Any new ideas for congratulations! It's triplets? Love the idea of Jason just freaking out and trying to figure out how to build a relationship with his kids while being made fun of by his family and said kids. Especially if he goes overprotective mode because Danny has clown trauma too and gets snagged by the joker

Jason watches as Danny- his son.- impatiently taps his fingers against the table. His boy's gaze was looking at everything, taking in the big fancy Wayne Mannor with a sort of disinterest he was not expecting of a child so young.

His sister and Brother- both with alarmingly similar names- were also disinterested, but Dani was swinging her legs, and Dan was tapping his spoon and fork against the table in a fast-paced drumming.

It's strange to know he would fidget a lot as a kid but he always resorted to finger tapping. Was the tripples little habit from him? He wonders what else they inherited and what he missed out on seeing.

"I don't understand," Jasmine said, overlooking the contract Bruce's lawyers wrote up. " Why would you want custody now? It's been five years."

"I didn't know." Jason swallows past the lump in his throat as she gives him an unimpressed stare over the paper. He feels Bruce place a hand on his shoulder, and the silent support allows him to continue. "If I have, I wouldn't have ever let them grow up without me."

"Jason doesn't want full custody," Tim cuts in with a soft voice that has tricked lesser men into selling their shares. He and the rest of his family are all sitting across from Jassmin Fenton, as she is carefully lured back to the manor to discuss their next step. "He just wants to be part of his kid's lives and would happily share that with you."

"Not telling him about the kids sort of played into that," Steph mutters tactlessly. Unfortunately, her voice carries, and the woman across from them bristles.

There is a tense moment where he thinks Jassmin is about to curse them all out before she sighs and slumps in her seat. "Well, it wasn't like I had a means to contact you when I found out. You gave me a fake name."

Jason winces. "I sort of forgot I told you my name was Petter."

"Wasn't a total lie" Dani chirps "It is your middle name."

Jasmine rubs her eyes. "Look, Jason, I don't want to stop you from seeing the kids, but this is all too much right now. I'm dealing with a lot right now-"

"You are currently homeless," Damian cuts in, causing Jasmine to stop in genuine bewilderment.

"No, we're not." Dan scoffs. "You were waiting for us at our house. Waiting to ambush us."

"The house that was on the street that Poison Ivy just destroyed," The boy says, showing everyone his phone screen. There, clear as day is, their home is nothing but rumble. Jasmine's face spams, and she quickly checks her phone, paling at what she reads.

"Oh, Ancients. It's gone. It's all gone," She whispers, gripping the phone. The three kids immediately stiffen, watching their mother with strange intensity. Too aware of what this means.

They were mature for their age, and that is never a good thing.

Oh gods. Did his children live on the streets? Had Jason's carelessness hurt his children like his parents have hurt him?

"Mom?" Danny asks and that seems to snap Jasmine out of her spirl.

"Hotel!" She gasps, hands shaking as she quickly starts tapping on her phone. Jason catches a glimpse of her screen and realizes she is making a to-do list. "I have to book a hotel room. Call the insurance company, go and try to salvage whatever we can....what else?"

"You can stay here, Fenton," Damian surprisingly offers. "Until your home is rebuilt"

"We couldn't possibly-"

"Hotels are expensive, and you must focus on other more important needs. Father certainly has the space."

Jason jerks into action. "This will also give me a chance to connect with the kids!"

Jasmine bites her lip, turning to her children. Jason could appreciate that she was willing to include them in big decisions. The three nodded, so she eventually sighs.

"Alright. But only until I can get our housing settled. And I'll pay rent"

Jason would argue but he recognized the look in her eye. She would not be sway from making payments. So he agrees, tapping his fingers on the table in a specific rhythm to make sure his family agrees too.

He knows it pains Bruce- the old man already thinks of the triplets as his grandchildren and the idea of charging them to live with him will kill him.

Jason notices the way Dan's eyes zero in on his tapping and the glance around the family members. He fights a proud grin when realization bleeds into his boy's eyes. He's got a smart one, likely aware of that the tapping is a form of Morse code.

Tim did say- after pulling up all files of the four- that his children had developed insane intelligence. Maybe he should get them tested for certification geniuses.

"Hey Mr. Jason," Dani suddenly speaks up.

"Yes Darling?"

"I suggest you remove your eyes from my mom before I remove them from your face." The little girl even punches her palm in a poor intimidation attempt. His heart melts.

Then his face turns a dark red hue at Jasmine's raised brow. Unwillingly flashes of thier last time being face-to face rise in his mind. He coughs awkwardly as his sons face become as protective as their sister, Dan cracking his knuckles and Danny reaching for a knife.

"Oh yeah" Tim deadpans watching the kids reaction "No need for DNA test. Those are definitely Jason's kids"

He agrees, he just hopes he can show his children he plans on sticking around and being the father they deserve.

No one notices Cass and Steph slip away to deal with Posion Ivy. Jason kinda wants to send her a thank you gift for making it possible to have his family move into the manor.

[lunasfics]

Ghost of You - Jason Todd

summary: In which Jason Todd does what he thinks is best, and you’re left to pick up the pieces he left behind.

pairings: Jason Todd x f!reader

warnings: mention of canon typical violence, angst, cursing

word count: 1k

a/n: i would like to apologize in advance for this one 😭😭 i was in an angst type of mood, i hope you like it!! - luna <3

reblogs are appreciated!!

You didn’t sleep most nights. 

Sometimes you felt the ghost of his fingers trailing lazy patterns on your arm the way he used to love to do. Sometimes you’d dream that you were in bed and he was there sleeping next to you. In those dreams you took the opportunity to watch him, memorizing every detail of his face. Every scar. The small movements of his nostrils as he breathed peacefully. You’d remember the feeling of his rough hands holding you so gently. Like he was terrified of breaking you. 

But then you’d wake up to the cold empty space beside you, nothing but unwashed linen sheets filling the space because you didn’t want to wash away the scent that remained. The scent of him. 

Sometimes, when you’d first wake up, still groggy from your slumber, you’d think Jason was in the kitchen fixing up your favorite breakfast. Like he always did on lazy mornings. Only he was never there. Not anymore.

It was stupid. It was so stupid. The way you still thought about him. The way he just gave up. The way he thought he had control over what was best for you. 

And you were heartbroken. But you were also angry. 

So, so angry. 

You’d told him. You’d told him over and over that being with him was your decision, that risking your safety was never even a question for you when it came to being with him. You knew you’d always turn out okay, as long as you had him by your side. 

Yet he never seemed to listen. 

It’s been two weeks. Two weeks of replaying that night over and over in your head. It was torture. 

“Jason-” 

“No. Do not even try to justify anything that just happened Y/n.” 

You paused. He never called you by your first name. Never.  You tried not to focus on it. “I’m not. But you need to know that it wasn’t your fault-” 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Of course it was my fault, do you honestly think Black Mask would just kidnap you for fun? Are you that naive to think that you were not put at risk today because your boyfriend is the fucking Red Hood?” He dragged a hand over his face, he was pacing. His hands were shaky. You could have died. It would have been his fault had he not arrived when he did. 

“I am not naive, Jason. I am a grown woman and I knew damn well what I signed up for when I fell in love with you. I’m not afraid of this. I’m not afraid of anything as long as I’m with you.” 

He laughed dryly, “Bravery and the power of love won't keep you alive, Y/n. I can’t lose you. I can’t be the reason you get hurt.” 

“You never have been and you never will be. Just– Please. I need you to understand that.” Your voice cracked, your eyes welling with tears, what he didn’t understand is it hurt you so, so much to see him in pain. You couldn’t lose him either. And he was constantly risking his life, you’d almost lost him far too many times. 

He turned away from you. He couldn’t see you cry right now. He needed the shred of strength he had left to protect you. For good. 

He turned to you, “I’ve been a selfish piece of shit my whole life. And I can’t– Fuck. I can’t keep putting how I feel first at the expense of your safety. You deserve a normal life. Not whatever the fuck I dragged you into.” 

“Jason. What the fuck are you saying right now.” You didn’t want to believe it. 

He didn’t look at you. He knew the moment he looked into your tear-filled eyes he’d take it back instantly. He’d apologize, bring you you to bed and hold you, peppering your face with sweet, gentle kisses. He’d drag you right back into the cycle he’d trapped you in.

You wished he would. 

“Jason.” 

“I’m leaving, Y/n. You need someone who can take care of you. Who can give you what you deserve. I have to let you go.” 

“Are you shitting me? I want you. No one else. This is not your decision to make.” 

He started walking towards the door. “I’m sorry.”  He refused to turn around, his eyes filling up with tears as he walked further towards the door, his hand on the doorknob. 

“I want you to know that right now, you, Jason Todd, are hurting me more than anyone else ever could.” 

There was a pause before he turned the doorknob, opening it and stepping out. “You’ll survive.” 

That was the last time you spoke to him. 

Over and over. The memory replayed in your mind. Every night you dreamed of him, you dreamed he never left, that he had put aside his own pride and just listened to you. That he had just let you be there for him. 

You had no idea where he was. You were constantly looking at your phone. Constantly. Waiting, hoping that you’d get a call from him, telling you he was sorry. That he wanted to come back to you. That you’d make it work.

But it never came. And deep down, you knew it wouldn’t. 

So every day you tormented yourself with dreams of him. Thoughts of him. Remembering the feeling of his arms snaking around your waist as you made your morning coffee. The feeling of him plopping his tired body onto yours after a long day, running your fingers through his hair as he laid his head on your chest. 

No thermal or weighted blanket provided the warmth and the security that he did. No pillow you hugged felt as comforting as hugging him did. No comedy you watched was as funny as when you watched it with him. No jacket you owned was as warm as the one he would drape over your shoulders while you were out together and it started to get cold. 

You lived with constant reminders that he was gone. Constant echoes of his previous presence. 

You could only hold on to the ghost of him that remained in your cold apartment. 

[flowersandbigteeth]

What if there was a dance to find the (insert whatever monster) king's mate so they can produce a heir(and many more kids)

And a regular human reader attends for free food not believing they'll be picked from but turns out the king had a eye on reader the whole time

Ahhh! I adore this idea! Anything that has to do with food immediately has my support and any reader I write would be first in line at the buffet :D

Shadow King (Zintius) x female reader

Word Count: 2.5K

W: sfw monster fluff, kidnapping, some sfw forced stripping

You smoothed the pointy clay tips you’d glued to your ears to make you look like a pixie, before you slipped out of the bathroom and back into the ballroom. 

Around you Fairyfolk were gathered dressed to the nines, all covered in sequins and feathers to attract the eye of the Shadow King. No one paid any attention to you, as a human you were much too plain to compete with these otherworldly beauties. Sirens, fairies, lovely creatures you’d never even heard of before crowded the room, subtly elbowing each other in the ribs to be the first that the King laid eyes on as he descended the stairs. 

Your focus, however, was the buffet. As a human in Fairy, you were unpopular to say the least and would never be allowed in a place like this, but with a little bit of pheromone lifted off of a witch and some micah powder to make your skin glitter you’d made yourself up to pass as a pixie so you could pilfer the feast. I

t was a con you pulled often, though this was perhaps your most bold move yet. This was the King’s marriage ball. He was looking for a wife so only the richest, prettiest, and most affluent Fairyfolk in the land had gone to great expense to travel as far as the Realm of Shadow to seduce him. 

It didn’t matter that he was ten feet tall and mostly smoke and big teeth. He had power and that was beautiful. The realm of Light and the realm of Twilight feared him, declaring him their greatest enemy. He was known to be brutal and imperialistic, wanting to spread his darkness as far as the other two realms would allow. 

None of that concerned you, however. While their heads were all turned to watch the King descend the stairs, you were pulling a sack from underneath your stolen, stained ball gown and loading it full of croissants, cupcakes, and whatever else wasn’t too sticky to fit. It wasn’t the flashiest con, but you were just a human, you did what you could to get by and this one was easy. You got away every time and ate for a week if you rationed everything out. 

When you’d gotten all you could, you shoved the sack under your fluffy dress, one you’d stolen out of the trash pile of a seamstress’ shop, and blended back into the crowd. It would be suspicious if you bolted immediately, the guards were trained to watch for thieves who would do just that, so you had to stick around for at least another hour.

You’d slip out of the back, look a little drunk if anyone stopped you, find a quiet place and put on the stable boy outfit you also had hidden in your skirt and casually walk away looking like a servant carrying out the trash.  

In the meantime, your eyes drifted over the crowd, trying to figure out if you could pilfer any loose valuables while you were waiting…these rich people wouldn’t notice a few baubles missing. You didn’t even bother to look for the King, though you heard all the trumpets and fanfare announcing his arrival.

Your eye caught on a jewel encrusted fan sticking out of the back pocket of a handsome goblin. Like a cat, you honed in on your target, drifting closer and closer to the sparkling prize. 

“I throw a whole ball just for you and I can’t even catch your eye,” a rumbling voice boomed just as you raised your hand to snatch the fan. 

You whirled around, cheeks red, trying to look innocent, eyes widening as you took in the figure looming over you. The Shadow King looked down at you with six eyes glowing gold from the dark space that was his face. 

“Um…I…Um…what?” you stammered. 

A wide, white smile appeared on his face, no lips, only teeth. 

“Finally, you look at me,” he said. 

You instinctively took a step back, unsure what was happening. Was he confused? Was he teasing you? Surely this was some cruel joke because he’d caught you stealing, though you didn’t entirely understand it. 

“Come,” he said, holding out a large hand. Whirls of black smoke drifted up off of it. The whole room was looking at you with obvious hostility, so you shakily took his hand, unsure what else to do. Your heart was hammering in your chest. The one rule of conning was commit to the bit, you had to let this play out, but what was happening?

He led you to the center of the room and music began. Your mouth fell open as he put one hand on your hip and with the other he clasped your hand and you started to dance. You had no idea how to dance, so you simply stumbled over his feet. He chuckled, revealing his white teeth again and lifted you up a bit, depositing your feet on top of his. 

“Here, like this,” he said, before swinging you around the ballroom to the music. The guests blurred around you as he spun across the shiny marble floor. 

His six eyes, all with different colored irises blinked down at you with utter fascination. He remembered the first time he saw you at some silly party he’d been compelled to attend. You’d done quite a good job hiding you were human only, as he’d wandered onto the terrace to get some air, he’d looked down to see you undressing. He’d watched in fascination as you’d unloaded a sack full of food and a handful of valuables, before peeling off your dress, plucking the tips from your ears and hurriedly disguising yourself like a servant boy with some pants and a low cap. 

He’d snuck off, following you, curious about your life and where you were going. Humans were all but extinct in Fairy, the fact that you were alive at all was a bit remarkable. Hiding as a cloud of smoke in the shadows he watched you dangling your feet over the dock watching the boats on the river while you munched on your ill gotten gains.

It was impossible to keep his eyes off of your plump lips as you chewed and your pretty hands as you wiped crumbs from your cheeks. His heart had dropped when he’d watched you curl up in a barrel near where they dumped the trash, your head resting on your bag of pastries to sleep. 

After that he’d used his own disguises to move through the nobility. It would be obnoxious if the king came to every party, but transforming himself into an unassuming orc nobleman, he eagerly waited for your arrival at every flashy party in the capital. He found your disguise rather clever and the way you slipped in and out, making yourself unseen despite how beautiful you were, very impressive.

It stunned him how well you could read your marks. You followed the cadence of the room, striking just when someone was distracted with new love or jealousy. Too wrapped up in their own drama to even care that whatever they lost was missing. 

He never bothered you, afraid to disturb what seemed to be your main source of food and income. That is until he set this little trap to catch you. 

“How long I’ve waited to have you in my arms,” he purred at you. 

You blinked your eyes at him. 

“You have?” you gasped, “are…are you sure you’re not mistaking me for someone else?” 

He just shook his head, the song ending. You were aware the entire room was looking at you with a mix of disgust and envy. As the next song began and some partners filled the dance floor a plucky witch dared to shoot her shot at the King, sure she could easily pull his attention from you. You almost let out a relieved sigh when you saw her approaching. She was a perfect excuse to make your escape and pretty enough to probably succeed. 

Only when she reached you he waved her away. 

“I’m busy,” he growled before she could even open her mouth and your hope scurried away. 

“Let’s go somewhere more private, pet,” he said, scooping you up in his arms to the dismay of you and the entire room and the two of you disappeared in a puff of smoke. 

You immediately panicked when you realized where you were, struggling in his arms. They were impossibly strong for appearing to be made of nothing but black mist. He’d brought you to his bedroom. You could only assume it was his bedroom because it was the nicest one you’d ever been in. The walls were draped in glittering gold fabric and jewel encrusted weapons humming with power were mounted where they parted.

“Shhh, shhh,” he shushed you, snapping his fingers and the cold fireplace lit bathing the room in warm light. 

The sudden sparks startled you still. In the glitter of firelight the shadow king’s black skin almost seemed to have a bit of a sparkle to it. Looking down on you and smiling again with his eerie Cheshire cat smile, he plucked the clay points from your ears. 

“You don’t need to hide from me, little human,” he said, “you’re perfectly safe…but you must tell me…I’ve been dying to know your name.” 

“Maurine,” you lied and he frowned at you, his smile inverting. 

“It’s not wise to lie to  me, pet,” he growled, his six eyes narrowing and the colors in them flashing. 

“(Y/N),” you squeaked. 

His mouth flipped again, creepily and he brushed your hair. 

“There’s no reason to lie, anyway,” he assured you, depositing you into a chair in front of the fire before he crossed the room to a pitcher of water and a bowl, “whatever petty problems you may have you can rely on me to solve them.”  

Wetting a rag he returned to scrub the micah from your cheeks that was giving you the pixie-like sheen. Pinching your cheeks with his shadowy fingers, he scrubbed until every bit of your disguise was off of you. From then on, Zintius wanted you to look like yourself. You’d never have to steal for a living again. He’d stuff you full of so many pastries you were plump and round. 

You gasped, surprised as his large hand slipped up your skirt and fished around, brushing your bare thigh. His smile got brighter as he retrieved the sack of food and the other bag of supplies you carried on you, pulling them from under it. 

Your eyes widened in horror as he tossed the bag with the food in it casually into the fireplace as if it weren’t your only source of sustenance for a week. You were almost afraid he was going to toss in your meager belongings, but he only rummaged around in them for the bottle of pheromone that apparently offended him. He was sure to toss that into the fireplace as well. 

When his eyes returned to you they were laser focused on the smelly dress you’d pulled from the garbage and you started to climb over the back of the chair to escape him. He was much too fast and much too big, yanking you back down. The sound of fabric ripping filled the room as he shredded the poor thing. 

“So lovely,” he gasped in his throat as he took in your body, bathed in golden light. It was so much more than when he’d imagined it. It had been impossible to see the appealing figure you’d been hiding under the ill fitting dress and boy’s clothes. 

Folding himself down to you as you squealed and shrank back into the chair, he breathed in your sweet scent, underneath the annoying pheromone you were wearing. He was much too impatient to wait to scrub you, reminding himself to tell the maids to take the bedding immediately in the morning when he got around to giving you a bath. The sooner he never had to smell that stuff again the better. 

Scooping you up, he hurried to the bed. 

“What are you doing?!” you snarled, beating your fists against his chest, which he conveniently made smoke when you struck him so your hands slipped right through. It was not a funny joke, but he found it very amusing, smiling down at you as he climbed across the spread with you in one arm. 

“I’m going to mate you,” he explained innocently. 

You gasped, scandalized. 

“Me!? But…but…mating is forever and I’m human! The goddess doesn’t make human mates. She hates humans!” 

He snorted. 

“The Goddess long ago betrayed me,” he snarled, “She cursed me to never have a Fairy mate, but I can and will have my own. You…I can feel it…perhaps the God of man blessed me just to spite her. I’ll never stop thanking him for his kindness, delivering a human angel to me. If he wants me to spend my life crusading against her creations, I will, if it means I can keep you.” 

You’d prayed to Adam, the God of man so many nights as you’d slept near the dock, wondering if his reach stretched all the way to Fairy. Only what you’d prayed for was that a stray portal would open up and you’d be taken back to Earth where you’d learned the rest of the humans lived, not this…but Gods were a fickle, spiteful bunch and sticking it to Freya by undermining her curse sounded like just the sort of thing Adam would do. 

The Shadow King practically purred at you, his smokey fingertips drifting over your bare skin as you cowered into the pillows. 

“I can be a good lover, pet,” he promised you, “I have the power to give you whatever you like. Do you want jewels? Castles? Servants to step all over?” 

You shook your head. 

“I-I don’t need all that,” you stammered, “I-I just…” 

You weren’t sure what you were trying to say. 

His eyes narrowed on you and you saw a sliver of tooth as he smirked at you. 

“Aren’t you just a little bit curious?” he asked, “don’t you want to know what it’s like not to scrabble in the dirt as you have your whole life? I’ve seen you sleeping in the cold trash, love, you never have to sleep on anything but the finest silk in front of a warm fireplace for the rest of your life. I watched the way your eyelashes fluttered as you woke, terrified of what had found you in the dark. You never have to be afraid to close your eyes again. All you have to do is give yourself to me.” 

The simple lure of a warm, safe bed was enough to break you and you nodded slowly. Pleased, his smile stretched to opposite ends of his face in a terrifying grin, his six eyes eating up your body now that you'd given him permission and glowing fiery gold. 

“You’ll never regret this (Y/N),” he assured you, as his fingers tore the frayed undergarments you were still wearing, “I promise you.”

[dragons-and-handcuffs]

Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Drunk and heartbroken Aegon crashes his ex's wedding

Modern AU

You never thought you'd be standing at the altar with another man. Not after the whirlwind that was Aegon Targaryen. He was everything your parents had warned you about—spoiled, reckless, a playboy with too much money and too little sense. But he was also the most thrilling, exhilarating thing to ever happen to you. Your relationship with Aegon was like a rollercoaster with no brakes: wild, dangerous, and utterly intoxicating. But it couldn't last, and you knew it. So, when your father introduced you to a proper suitor—a stable, successful man with a future—ending things with Aegon had seemed like the right decision. It was time to grow up, to move on.

Or so you thought.

Today was supposed to be the start of that new chapter. The day you married the man who was everything Aegon was not—reliable, respectable, safe. Your father approved, your family adored him, and you had convinced yourself that you were ready to settle down.

But as you stood at the altar, looking into the kind eyes of your soon-to-be husband, something inside you felt… off. Maybe it was just nerves, or maybe it was the weight of your past threatening to crush the perfect life you were trying to build.

The officiant cleared his throat, starting the ceremony. You tried to focus on the words, but your mind was a thousand miles away, tangled up in memories of Aegon.

And then, as if summoned by your very thoughts, the church doors burst open with a crash that echoed through the hall.

Every head turned in unison, and there he was: Aegon Targaryen, looking as disheveled as you'd ever seen him. His silver hair was a mess, his shirt half-buttoned, and a bottle of expensive alcohol dangled from his hand. He staggered into the aisle, blinking against the bright light and grinning like an idiot.

"Y/N!" he slurred, his voice carrying through the stunned silence. "Wait! Stop this madness!"

Your heart skipped a beat. "Aegon?"

Your groom’s expression hardened, his grip on your hands tightening protectively. The guests began to murmur, shocked whispers filling the church as Aegon made his way unsteadily down the aisle.

"Y/N, baby, what are you doing?" Aegon called out, swaying slightly as he walked. "This guy?" He pointed vaguely in the direction of your groom, his disdainful tone making it clear how little he thought of him. "He’s not the one for you! You’re making a huge mistake!"

You felt your cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and something else—an involuntary rush of adrenaline, like you used to feel when you and Aegon were sneaking around, doing things you shouldn’t.

"Aegon, you need to leave," you said, trying to sound firm, but your voice wavered, betraying you.

But Aegon was far beyond reason. "Leave? Leave? Why would I leave when the love of my life is about to marry the wrong guy?" He stumbled closer, his words growing more impassioned—and more incoherent. "I’m the one, Y/N. I’m the guy who knows how to make you feel alive! Remember? Remember how we used to be? God, those nights…"

Your eyes widened in horror as Aegon began recounting the more intimate details of your past together.

"We were crazy, Y/N! We had passion! Fire!" Aegon waved his arms dramatically, nearly toppling over in the process. "No one—no one!—can make you scream like I can! Like… remember that time at my dad’s beach house? Or that hotel in Dorne? You were so loud, I thought we’d get kicked out!" He grinned, clearly proud of himself, and the guests gasped in shock.

Your face burned red, not just from embarrassment but from the sheer audacity of it all. Your father looked like he might explode, and your poor groom—he was just standing there, mouth agape, trying to process the trainwreck unfolding in front of him.

"Aegon, stop it!" you hissed, your voice desperate as you tried to salvage what little dignity you had left.

But Aegon wasn’t finished. "No, you need to know!" he insisted, pointing at the groom again. "This guy—this guy will never satisfy you like I can! He doesn’t know you like I do. He’ll never make you feel the way I can. Y/N, we were made for each other, baby! You and me, we’re wild!"

The guests were either mortified or barely suppressing laughter. Your mother looked like she might faint, and your groom’s face was a mixture of outrage and disbelief. The officiant had no idea what to do, glancing between you and Aegon like he was hoping someone would call security.

Finally, two of the groomsmen stepped forward to drag Aegon out. "Get your hands off me!" Aegon protested, but he was too drunk to fight back. They each grabbed an arm and started hauling him toward the door.

Even as they dragged him away, Aegon kept yelling, his voice echoing through the church. "I’ll always love you, Y/N! I’ll be waiting for you! And when this whole mistake blows up in your face, I’ll be right there, ready to pick up the pieces! Ready to make you scream again!"

As they shoved him out the door, he managed one final shout. "This guy will never satisfy you! Never!"

And then, with a heavy thud, the doors closed, sealing Aegon outside.

The silence that followed was deafening. All eyes were on you, waiting to see how you would react. Your father looked ready to murder someone, your mother was clutching her pearls, and your groom—well, he looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. The chaos had passed, but your heart was still racing, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Aegon was right about one thing: there would never be another relationship like the one you had with him.

But you were committed to this new life, this new future. It was time to close that chapter for good.

You turned back to your groom, forcing a smile. "I’m so sorry about that."

He nodded, though the hurt was evident in his eyes. "Do you… do you still want to…?"

You looked at him, at the man who had offered you stability, security, and a life without the chaos that had defined your relationship with Aegon. He was a good man, and he deserved better than what had just happened. He deserved a wife who wasn’t secretly wondering if she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.

But you pushed those doubts aside. This was your choice, and you had made it.

"Yes," you said, squeezing his hands. "Let’s finish this."

But as you repeated your vows, the memory of Aegon’s last words lingered in the back of your mind.

"I’ll be waiting for you…"

[neptuneiris]

could you pretend to be in love? (03/10)

The Complicity

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: the time has finally come and you together with Aemond pretend the relationship taking into account the aspects of the previous contract.

word count: 7.1k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

is already here!

God, I had so much fun writing this and absolutely loved it. hope you enjoy it too, I loved it and will look forward to your opinions. there is still much more to come, so look forward for it🤭

thank you for reading and enjoy!❤

It takes no time at all to see Aemond's car pull up in front of your house.

Pursing your lips and you already feel the nerves tensing your body. You adjust the strap of your backpack on your shoulder and say goodbye to your father, then leave your house and head towards the car.

Aemond has already rolled down the passenger seat window and keeps a small grin on his lips as he watches you, but you deliberately ignore him and especially that grin on his face.

But what you don't ignore is his car. It's too modern and expensive, exactly what you would expect from him. Besides it's his style, black and extremely clean. And when you get in and settle into the seat, the interior smells like him, rich, masculine and nice.

"Hey," you say to him, as you close the door and fasten your seat belt.

"Hey," he returns your greeting, watching you intently, "How are you?"

You frown, slightly confused by his question.

"I'm good," you say nonchalantly, "You?"

"All good, yes," he nods, letting his hand rest on the steering wheel. Then he watches you carefully, now with some hesitation, "Are you ready?"

"Hmm... yeah, I guess," you reply, nervous and hesitant, trying to appear normal, as you absently place your backpack on your lap, "Just..." you watch him pleadingly, reminding him, "When you're going to do something, you know... in front of everyone, let me know."

He puts back his soft smile, starting the car.

"Yes, ma'am."

The car starts up, an awkward silence developing in the air, where at first you both look for something to say to break the silence, but eventually you become immersed in your own thoughts.

And you at all times try to control your nerves and prepare yourself more mentally for everything that is coming today... and also for the next almost five months.

The music on the radio eases that slight tension between the two of you but when you least expect it, Aemond arrives and parks in the school parking lot, which is flooding with students.

"Thanks for the ride," you say, unbuckling your belt and he gives you a soft look.

"It's nothing, don't worry," he replies calmly.

You exhale deeply, peering through the windows of his car at the students outside, immersed in their groups of friends or their own worlds. But you know that soon enough all the attention will fall on you and him, so you continue to fight it, the nerves.

"So..." you return your gaze to him, attentive, "What exactly are we going to do now?"

"We just have to walk to the building together," he points to you as if it's the simplest thing in the world, which it is, but now you're both a 'couple', "We'll hold hands, I can walk you to your locker, we'll play a little, and then we'll head to our classes. Nothing more."

As simple as it sounds in his words, the prospect of performing as a couple in public makes you feel a mixture of nerves and anxiety. But you don't really have a choice so you just nod and go back to watching everyone out there one last time.

When you suddenly feel his warm hand place on top of yours, an unexpected gesture that surprises you and makes you focus on him again.

"Hey, I'm with you, okay?" he says softly, "You're not alone. And I promise you that everything will be fine, nothing bad is going to happen," he assures you, "You just need to relax, let yourself go and follow my lead. That way it will be easier, I assure you."

He tells you as his gaze conveys a sense of trust and understanding, wanting to reassure you in the midst of your nerves, reassuring you that everything will be okay, supporting you.

And even though you still feel a little nervous, with the assurance he conveys in every thing he says and every gesture, you decide to trust his words, managing to comfort you just enough.

Then he gives you a few more seconds, understanding that you should feel completely calm and finally you put the strap of your backpack on your shoulder, deciding that you want to get started and also get this over with once and for all.

"Ready?" he asks you with his reassuring look.

You nod, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves.

"Yeah, I'm good."

He nods too and finally you both get out of the car. And as soon as the two of you step foot outside, a few glances land on you and Aemond.

You wait for him to circle the car and once at your side, without hesitation your fingers intertwine with his, where as you watch his face, you find that assurance he seeks to convey to you, assuring you that everything will be okay.

And together, you begin to walk towards the main school building.

Aemond's presence at your side offers you comfort as you see hoy everyone looks at you, looks of surprise and curiosity, all watching you both attentively.

And at the same time you see how among the same groups of boys and girls talk to each other, seeming to wonder about seeing the two of you together.

At this, as you advance, you swallow hard and try to control your nervous look and keep your composure, also the slight fear you feel inside you and your heart that beats strongly, aware that every step you take is closely followed by the looks of everyone.

And as you feel the slight squeeze Aemond gives your hand with his, he gives you that small comfort amidst all the stares and emotions that invade you and you internally thank him for his gesture.

So you decide to concentrate on the comforting touch of his hand intertwined with yours, reminding you that you are not alone and you follow his lead, remembering his words from the beginning.

He, in comparison to you, seems serene and confident in all of this.

And despite the discomfort you felt with him at first and wanting to run away from him, now his presence begins to be comforting and you feel that you will panic if he leaves your side now.

And with every step you both take, you seem to attract more stares, as if you are a magnet for attention. There seems to be no end to the amount of curious stares on both of you, and that feeling increases more as you both walk deeper into the bustling hallways of the school.

You just hear the constant buzz of conversations and the attention focused on both of you becomes even more apparent. But regardless, you follow Aemond's lead, letting him guide you through all this overwhelming attention.

Eventually you both reach your locker and he stays by your side, as you begin to grab the books you will need today and people continue to watch you.

"It's a good start," Aemond says next to you, leaning toward you just so you can hear him.

"Only if you like the attention," you mention.

"Please, it's not so bad either," he says and leans closer to you, where with delicate gesture he tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, watching you intently, beginning to act on the plan.

His movement catches you a little off guard, but you play along. You lean your body towards him, trying to keep a relaxed face and put a discreet smile.

"The whole school is watching us."

"Exactly what we wanted or not?" he says to then drop a kiss on your forehead that also takes you by surprise but you continue to skillfully feign, "And you're doing great."

A real genuine smile settles on your lips and you continue to organize your backpack as Aemond takes one of your hands and begins to trace it with his fingertips, then absentmindedly and also discreetly observes around him.

It is true that everyone is watching you both, but what catches his attention is seeing his ex-girlfriend, Alys, in this same hallway with her group of friends also watching.

You can't read much of his gaze, as he focuses back on you, especially when you finally close your locker door and give him your full attention, as he places a small smile on his lips.

He pulls you into his body as he leans against the back lockers, hugging you and placing you between his legs, and you let him, as obviously everyone is watching you at that moment.

"I'm going to kiss you now, okay?"

He whispers into your face and you open your mouth to speak, instantly lifting your face up to him to watch him, but when you least expect it, he is already kissing you.

You stifle a slight gasp in the middle of the kiss, feeling one of Aemond's hands gently caress your cheek and the other he keeps it on your waist, pulling you closer to him in a gentle way, as he presses his lips against yours gently and carefully, almost adoringly.

His lips feel soft and warm, so you kiss him back as best you can, closing your eyes and letting your hands rest on his chest.

Thankfully there's no movement and it's just pressing lips against lips, but the kiss is prolonged, Aemond more than anything else wanting to make sure everyone sees.

And when you both pull apart, he keeps his smile and his hands on your body as you try to disguise the surprise and daze.

"I'll see you at break," he says, letting go of your body slowly.

"Sure," you nod and smile, aware that more people are watching.

"Everything will be fine and if anything happens, text me," he tells you softly before separating you from his body and you nod again, feeling grateful again.

He leaves one last kiss on your forehead before he walks away, giving you one last comforting look. You watch as he walks away down the hallway, heading to his first class, just as the bell rings throughout the school.

So now feeling all eyes on you, you too quickly head towards your first class too.

And from that moment on, everything explodes.

The only topic of conversation going around the school is how the hottest and most popular guy in the whole school, Aemond Targaryen, is dating you, a girl not entirely... known.

You also hear how he and Alys' breakup is briefly mentioned, they also talk about how she cheated on him and that's when you come in... you and this unexpected news of the two of you dating.

It's clear that no one was expecting it, so there are a lot of questions as well. And eventually, the questioning begins.

"Y/N?" asks Aegon, confused, watching his younger brother intently, "And who is Y/N? I've never heard of her."

"Aegon, that doesn't matter," interjects Helaena, watching him grimly.

"She's my girlfriend," Aemond declares with a firm tone as he puts away some books in his locker.

"What matters is why you never told us anything... until now that the whole school knows too," Helaena says, confused, "We didn't even know you were interested in anyone after—

"That crazy of Alys," Aegon interrupts, not even bothering to lower the tone of his voice, also looking at Aemond with confusion.

Aemond looks up from his locker, noting back the questioning looks from his brother and sister.

"The thing with Alys is over," he says nonchalantly, "We both ended badly, she got satisfaction from it, I moved on and now I met someone new, what's wrong with that?"

Helaena exchanges a glance with Aegon and crosses her arms over her chest.

"No Aem, there's nothing wrong with it," she clarifies to him in a soft tone, "But at least you could have told us before the whole school found out."

"Yeah," Aegon says beside her, supporting her in her words, "And you never mentioned her," he says still with his confused face and tone, "Why?"

Aemond exhales deeply, feeling the pressure of they stares and questions, trying to keep his face composed.

"I've known her for a while."

He begins to say, clearly lying but trying to hear himself sound as convincing as possible, understanding that he must later tell Y/N about this if they and anyone else ask her the same question.

"She's in almost all the same classes as me. We did some projects together, started talking, hanging out a few times and well... things happened really fast. Even I didn't expect it, neither did she and it just happened, you know?"

Aegon watches him curiously, while Helaena examines him with full attention.

"And mom knows?"

"No, she doesn't," he says instantly, attentive and alert, "And listen, please don't tell her anything yet."

"Why not?" Aegon says confused, "She is your girlfriend and she should know her, no?"

"Yes, but we've just started dating and I want to give her a little more time until she's ready," he says in a soft, almost pleading tone, watching them both carefully, "I don't want to rush things more than they've already been rushed, so please.... let me tell mom when I've talked to Y/N."

Both are silent for a few seconds, where again the two exchange glances, and then Aegon nods in his direction with a more disinterested and more typical Aegon look. And Helaena, after analyzing his words, nods as well.

"Fine but be sure to tell her soon. You know how mom is with this sort of thing and if you let too much time pass, she'll be upset with you."

"Yes, I will, I promise."

Again silence engulfs the three of them and after a few seconds, Aegon breaks the silence with a smile.

"Well, now I want to meet my little brother's new girlfriend."

"Me too," nods Helaena, "Even without knowing her I already like her better than the witch."

Aegon lets out a laugh and Aemond just rolls his eye with an amused look.

"I'll try to talk to her if I see her," Helaena adds.

Shit.

Aemond thinks instantly.

"Fine but don't ask her too many questions, don't harass her and I'll find out if you tell her about my embarrassing stories," he warns her, "Same goes for you," he points to Aegon as well.

"Easy," he tells him confused, raising his hands in surrender, "I just want to meet my sister-in-law."

"Yes but watch that mouth," he warns him once more, "I'll see you later."

He closes his locker, the three of them say goodbye and he heads off to his next class, leaving behind his siblings and the growing curiosity that hasn't stopped from the other students in the hallway.

Certainly the news of his new relationship spreads quickly throughout the school, creating a buzz of gossip among all the hallways, because when he met with his friends, they too question him about the unexpected news.

The same goes for you, that even though you have no friends, or at least not close ones, when you are in the library, someone unexpectedly question you about your... 'boyfriend'.

"So...

A voice begins to speak in your direction and you look up, meeting Alysanne Blackwood, a classmate just as introverted and quiet as you, sitting at the other end of the huge table you're sitting at.

"Who knew you liked rich, popular boys," she says with a small smile.

"Oh... hi Alysanne," you say, putting a small smile, discreetly ignoring her comment.

That doesn't stop her, however, as she rises from her seat and takes her place in front of you, completely commanding your attention with her energetic presence.

"The truth is, I never imagined seeing you with someone like Aemond, "she says, evidently trying to start a conversation on the subject, "I never even saw you two talking together before."

And there you start to feel the knot of nerves in your stomach as you try to find the right words to explain the unexpected situation.

"The truth is, it was all very... discreet and... unexpected," you say, starting to think fast to come up with something convincing.

"And I bet Alys freaked out," she say with an amused smile, "God, I would have paid to see her face. She obviously wouldn't expect to see her ex with you."

You cocked your head to the side, watching her with curiosity and some confusion.

"Don't get me wrong, it's obvious that you and I are similar but a different type of girls like Alys," she explains, "So of course she must have been furious."

"Oh, um... I really don't know," you reply with a shrug. "I didn't notice if she saw us when the whole school did."

"Oh believe me," she says without wiping off her smile, "She did see you and she's furious," she assures you, "And that's okay because she deserves it. I can't stand her and I can't stand her stupid group of pretty girls who don't have a single neuron in their brains."

Alysanne, with her playful smile, seems to enjoy the awkwardness you find yourself in, so she leans a little closer to you, as if sharing a secret.

"Anyway, how do you feel about it? With Aemond, I mean," she asks, changing the tone of the conversation.

"Oh, well... he's different, I guess," you admit, searching for the right words, "I didn't know him much before this, but he's kind, funny, and.... yeah, different."

God, this is harder than I thought.

Talking about Aemond in this way is not entirely untrue, as he is nice and a little funny, but only a little. But still, you don't really know him and you think that's what you both need, to get to know each other better.

And that way, maybe this won't cost you too much.

"Well, at least you're not hating it. Although, truth be told, I think it's refreshing to see you dating someone outside of your comfort zone. And I'm also saying this from my own experience, it's... rewarding."

You watch her more interested than before, a little surprised.

"You have a boyfriend now?"

"Nah, it's been a while since we broke up," he says with a disinterested gesture, "But that's what he left me with and I hope you enjoy it, just don't be afraid."

She tells you and that particularly gets your attention more.

"And by the way, if you need advice on how to deal with girls like Alys, you know where to find me," she adds with a soft laugh.

Despite the strange situation and the fact that your talking about your 'relationship', when it's not even real, her words make you feel something and you realize that the conversation with her has become more enjoyable.

And you also realize that maybe you are not so alone in this unexpected moment of your school life.

So classes go by normally, you don't really see Aemond much, except in the hallways and when lunchtime comes, you take a seat alone at one of the cafeteria tables and turn your back on all the piercing stares.

"Hey, babe."

You raise your gaze and Aemond has a radiant smile on his face, turning animatedly toward you.

You place your best smile towards him, especially since there are still many pairs of eyes watching you, especially the eyes of Alys and her entire group of friends, who haven't stopped watching you as if they were going to kill you with their gaze since you arrived.

Aemond leaves a soft kiss on your forehead and takes a seat next to you, creating a space of privacy between the two of you, making sure no one else hears what he will say.

"How have you been?" you ask him, popping a strawberry into your mouth.

"Great. Everything is going perfectly, everyone is believing us and I hear Alys is furious and dead jealous," he says, with his little smile, "I've played her same game and now she knows how it feels. And the next few weeks will only get even better."

"As long as you keep me out of it, it's fine," you decide to joke, focusing on your food.

And when he answers your silence, you look back at him and he's watching you with a seriousness that isn't quite true. You let out a small laugh and he taps his shoulder lightly with yours, smiling.

"What are you talking about?" he asks you playfully, "Of course you'll be in for it."

You both share a brief complicit chuckle and he takes a strawberry from your bowl and savors it with a satisfied expression, then gives you a playful look.

"I'm actually enjoying this more than I thought I would. We seem to have caused a little of a commotion here," he says, averting his gaze to the bustle of the cafeteria.

"A little commotion?" you repeat, incredulous, "I think more like a big commotion, Aemond."

"Oh, and also..." he begins to say, more serious and in a lower tone, leaning towards you, "Aegon and Hel have already asked me some questions," he says, catching your full attention, "So if they try to talk to you, just say that we met and started talking in class. Also, that everything between us happened very fast and we decided to be discreet, nothing more."

And even though it's nothing difficult or anything out of this world, you can't help but feel a little overwhelmed by the sudden complexity of the situation. You also can't help the nerves in you.

Being part of all these lies and still having to create more lies, that's what makes you uneasy and you feel that in the moment you will ruin everything. And Aemond seems to read your thoughts, noticing your slightly worried expression.

"I know that they can be a bit nosy, I know that and I'm sorry. But it would have been too risky to tell them the truth and—

"No, no, it's not that, Aemond," you interrupt him instantly, "I just feel nervous and a little... scared," you confess, "I feel like I'll ruin everything if your sister or brother talk to me, because of the nerves, but I'm sure I can handle it."

"Yes, of course," he nods, nonchalant and speaking to you in a soft tone, taking one of your hands to entwine with his, "Just... if they ask you something specific, wing it, but keep the story general. I know you'll be able to do it."

You nod in his direction, his soft, comforting gaze making you feel better and more capable of being able to handle this. When you remember an also very important point.

"And you asked them not to say anything to your family?"

"Oh yeah, that too, yeah," he nods, "Don't worry, it wasn't hard. So we're good with that."

"Good," you say relieved.

You don't let go of his hand and go back to focusing on your food, while he stands next to you and watches you silently, saying absolutely nothing, watching you with a soft, calm gaze and trying to transmit that love just by watching you.

And his gaze on you while you eat starts to make you feel uneasy, so you watch him and put on a small nervous smile, not understanding the way he is looking at you.

Actually you do know but just like him, you have to play.

"What?"

Aemond lifts both corners of his lips a little higher.

"Everyone is looking at us," he says expectantly, in a low, soft voice, glancing around for a second to refocus on you.

And you roll your eyes playfully.

"I told you not to abuse that."

"But you said at extremely necessary times and right now seems like an extremely necessary time to me... love."

And there it is again, those nicknames that make you feel weird and Aemond enjoys watching you shiver at those words, smiling playfully.

"And I think it's only fair that now you're the one kissing me."

"You know, I'm already regretting this."

"I'm waiting," he says expectantly, never taking his eyes off you attentively for a second.

And you roll your eyes again and then lean into him with no choice and leave a soft kiss on his lips, in front of everyone, which he reciprocates instantly, only increasing his smile even more when you pull away from him.

"Thank you, love."

"Please," you look at him pleadingly, "Stop saying that."

He lets out a small laugh.

"Whatever you say, love."

You stare at him for a second and then he goes back to stealing one of your strawberries.

"By the way, wouldn't you rather go to lunch with my friends?" he points to the table of his friends who also belong to the lacrosse team, "They've also asked me about us. And I think having lunch with them, will make it all more believable."

You let out a long breath.

"It doesn't have to be now," he hasten to say.

"No, no, it's fine," you assure him, "I think it will make the relationship more believable too."

"Okay, but we have to stay here, at least for this day," he says, enjoying all the attention and you don't fight it, "Oh, and before I forget this, I have a match on Friday."

Oh no.

So soon?

You can't help but think, watching him completely intently.

"Really?" you ask starting to feel nervous and you don't even know why.

"Yeah, obviously you have to go and support me, shout my name, some cheers and all that," he says visibly excited, "The whole school is attending, so Alys will be there too," he says quietly.

"You also want me to wear a T-shirt with your last name on it and carry signs with your name on it like in the movies?"

He lets out a laugh.

"I'd actually love to see that," he says more excited than before.

"Aemond, I-I really don't know how to act at that kind of thing. I don't even know if I'll do it right...and if it looks too forced?"

And then there he again takes advantage of everyone watching you to place his hand over yours.

"Listen, there's no right or wrong way to do it. Just be yourself. There are no exaggerated expectations and it's not about impressing anyone, least of all me. I just want you to be there and let's have a good time together. Also at the party."

"Wait, what?" you inquire, "There's going to be a party after the game?"

"Hmm," he nods, "At my friend's house, you know...for celebration when we win."

"And if you don't win?"

"Even so, the party will be held," he says with a shrug, "A way to lift our spirits and better prepare us for the next game."

Of course, typical.

"And if I don't go to the party?" you try to persuade him with a worried expression.

"Y/N," he tells you with a serious look, "Remember our contract?"

"You're seriously bringing that to this?" you reproach him.

"Yes because it's in the contract," he tells you with a playful look, making it clear that he won't let you get off that easy.

And you sigh with resignation.

"But I don't think—

"Come on, Y/N. It'll be fun," he tries to encourage you, "And if at any point you feel uncomfortable, I promise we'll leave. What do you say? Sounds good?"

And even with the discomfort through your body, you nod, since you know there's no way around it.

"Fine," you murmur.

Aemond nods with a small smile.

"I'm sure it'll be fun, you'll see."

The rest of the week is spent with the stares and whispers intensifying whenever you and Aemond are seen together in the hallways or anywhere in the school.

Even the stares are not discreet, boys and girls stop in their conversations to stare at you as you walk by and when you move on to your respective classes, the attention seems to follow you, also in the cafeteria, when you and Aemond enjoy your lunches together, everyone stares at you.

It becomes annoying and also overwhelming for you, as you not only deal with the stares of all the students, but you especially deal with the stares of Alys Rivers and that of all her friends.

They are like hawks looking to melt the back of your head with every death stare. You feel like you're the prey and you don't doubt that they must surely say horrible things about you.

But honestly, Aemond has somehow helped you endure it.

In the cafeteria you are not alone, as you follow his idea of sitting at the table with him and his friends, who turn out to be very nice and funny, so their occurrences make you feel more comfortable during the whole break and lunch, forgetting for a moment about the stares and whispers.

Also Aemond never takes his hands off you, wanting to hug you and hold your hand all the time, wanting to make the relationship look as genuine as possible, this also distracting you.

And in those moments you just realize how you really hate being the center of attention, especially since the school seems to be watching your every move.

And you and Aemond couldn't agree more on the huge commotion you both have caused.

When the weekend finally arrives just as quickly as the day the match will take place, where you immediately decide to ask Alysanne for help getting ready, since you don't have a clue how to do it and make it look good.

Your dad is still at work, so you and Alysanne in your room make as much noise as you want, while she picks out your makeup and you put on some black jeans and the dark blue with white team shirt you borrowed from Aemond with his last name and player number printed on it.

And Alysanne, in her friendly and honest spirit, is excited to help.

"It looks great on you," she comments as she watches you adjust your shirt so it's not baggy, "Although I honestly don't understand why people like to attend these types of games. It's too boring for me."

"Yeah, for me too, but nothing I wouldn't do for Aemond," you mention like the girlfriend in love you supposedly are with him.

"Now come here."

You take a seat and she stands up, instantly helping you place Aemond's initials with blue paint on each of your cheeks, AT, while you finish touching up the rest of your makeup and also your hairstyle.

And when you're both done, Alysanne has something else for you.

"Now you're missing this," she announces, taking from her backpack something.

And when she holds it out to you, you confusedly take a cheerleader pom-pom.

"And what's this for?"

"What do you mean, what for? To support your boyfriend, obviously," she says incredulously, "I have one too," she announces proudly, taking another from her backpack.

"And where did you get them?" you ask inspecting it in your hand.

"I stole them from a girl who's on the cheerleading squad. I don't like her so I said, why not?"

You look at her still confused for a few moments, especially after that statement, but you decide not to give the matter any more thought and focus on what really matters, which in fact is already too much for your head.

So ready, you observe yourself in the mirror.

"I look like an idiot," you say as you look at yourself, "I've never done this before."

Alysanne laughs softly.

"Oh, dear, that's because you're an idiot in love. And also because it's the things love makes you do."

But you're not really in love with Aemond and that makes this whole thing even harder.

And that not being enough, she teaches you some pom-pom waving moves and suggests some simple cheers to cheer on the team and Aemond more than anything else. And even though you shouldn't, you can't help yourself and take a good few minutes practicing all that.

And finally you both leave your house in the direction of the school.

You've never been to one of these games before either, so when you and Alysanne arrive, the lacrosse field is full of energy and excitement as you both find seats in the stands.

The truth is you know absolutely nothing about how lacrosse works, it was never something you were interested in but if Aemond is now your 'boyfriend', you know you'll have to pay attention.

So in the meantime you do what everyone else does, like clapping and... nothing else.

"Girl, what are you doing? You're supposed to be cheering for your boyfriend!"

Alysanne yells at you above all the other yelling, shaking her own cheerleading pom-pom with the moves she taught you earlier.

"I know but I feel... embarrassed," you confess, "I've never done this. Besides... they haven't stopped staring at me since I got here."

"Who?" she asks you confused and attentive.

You point discreetly behind you and Alys along with her group of friends are a few seats over from where you stand with Alysanne, who snorts in amusement.

"Please, do they really intimidate you?"

"No," you lie a little, shrugging, "I just don't like that they're looking at me like they're going to kill me at every turn."

When you arrived they all inspected you from head to toe with questioning, mocking and expectant looks, which ended up destroying your confidence.

But Alysanne nudges you lightly and snorts derisively.

"Ignore them. They are not important. What's important is over there," she points her index finger at the lacrosse field, pointing at Aemond, "You're here to support him, not worry about poisonous snakes. So let's start yelling and supporting your boyfriend with the cheers I taught you, got it?"

You let out a sigh and finally nod with a resigned gesture.

You force yourself to concentrate as much as you can on the match, you also tell yourself that you're here to support Aemond and not to deal with the stares from his ex-girlfriend and her whole group of friends.

As well as you push away the idea in your mind that you feel weird and uncomfortable with that if you shout Aemond's name, everyone will notice and see you.

And you immerse yourself along with Alysanne and everyone else at the game in the charged atmosphere of anticipation and the screams of the crowd mingling with the air.

The whistle blows, marking the start of the match and Aemond and his team are in action as well as the opposing team, all moving nimbly around the field.

The game is fast and dynamic, you don't understand but you watch as Aemond stands out on the field, showing his skill. He and his team perform coordinated movements, well-executed strategies and impressive resistance against the opposing team.

And without paying any more attention to Alys gaze, you immerse yourself in the atmosphere of the game, clap and cheer along with Alysanne.

She encourages you to shout his name and that's what you do. You follow Aemond's every move intently, cheering with enthusiasm, jumping in place along with Alysanne, waving the stolen pom-pom along with her and shouting with fervor.

You feel more of Alys and her friends' gaze behind you, but you ignore it completely and concentrate on the game.

And as the game progresses, Aemond begins to notice your animated efforts from a distance. You can't see his face because of his protective helmet but he smiles when he sees you jumping, waving the pom-pom and shouting his name.

Your choice to wear his shirt with his last name and number, his initials painted on your cheeks, and the cheerleader pom-pom, all don't go unnoticed by him. He's honestly flattered and grateful that you actually did it.

And you and Alysanne keep cheering, both of you fully immersing yourselves in the intense and competitive atmosphere.

You don't know how much time passes until finally the referee blows the whistle. And since you don't understand lacrosse at all and had to pretend you knew what was going on, you just know they've won.

Thunderous applause and cheers break out in the crowd, and Aemond and his teammates celebrate on the field.

Alysanne gives you a friendly nudge as you both make your way to the corner of the field where the players are standing. And Aemond, instantly looking for you among all the people, when he finds you, with an expression of triumph trots over to you.

His gaze sweeps over you from head to toe, his smile engulfing you, as he removes his helmet and you smile and clap in his direction.

"You've won!" you exclaim happily.

He doesn't take off his smile and hugs you tightly, to which you reciprocate, trying to get that 'love' in front of everyone like in the movies of the couple of a boy captain of the team and the cheerleader girl.

You're not a cheerleader with a stolen pom-pom in hand but it's something like that.

"You look amazing," he says in your ear.

You let out a nervous laugh, as you both pull apart and Aemond, subtly seeing that everyone is watching you, keeps his hand on your waist, leans in and leaves a soft kiss on your lips, sealing the victory.

Obviously you can't blame him since everyone is watching and you place your hand on his cheek, reciprocating his kiss as everyone around you continues to celebrate in the stands and on the lacrosse field.

Once you both separate, you just notice more how everyone is watching you and you can't help but be a little embarrassed by this, feeling too many stares on you which in comparison, Aemond doesn't mind at all.

He tells you he's going to go change and talk to his coach, you nod, he leaves a soft kiss on your forehead and trots off back to the field with his teammates and you're left alone.

You hug yourself and look around briefly, then walk over to Alysanne, feeling a little overwhelmed.

And God, maybe this is costing you more than you imagined.

"You were fantastic, everyone was looking at us," Aemond says excitedly, driving, "And your outfit just made it all the more believable."

"Yeah," you let out a small laugh, "Alys and her whole group of friends kept judging me. But this just further confirms to us the fact that this is working."

He lets out a sigh.

"Alys has always been like that, she always has to judge someone to feel superior. She even did it with me during the time we were dating too."

He says with a disinterested tone and you look at him slightly surprised, not expecting to hear that.

"But if she makes you more uncomfortable to the point that you can't even stand it anymore, please tell me," he tells you more seriously, "She'll be at the party too and I don't plan to leave you alone but I'm telling you... you know, so you won't be surprised."

"I'm sure I can handle it, but yeah, I'll tell you," you tell him softly, nodding.

"Good," he nods too, not taking his eye off the road.

Right now he's driving to his friend's house where the party will be. You invited Alysanne and offered her to come along with you and Aemond, but she told you she's not a fan of parties and in fact she's had enough of the game.

So she ordered an Uber and went home. And you don't blame her. As much as you would have loved for her to have come to help you survive the party, she already helped you a lot before and after the game.

"So you understood the game?"

He asks you, summing up the game conversation, with a smirk. And you let out a snort with a mocking, incredulous look.

"No," you confess, "I don't really know anything about sports. I just know that on that play of yours in the second half it was awesome because everyone was talking about it," you let him know.

He lets out a laugh.

"Don't worry, I'll teach you."

"I just know you were great. I don't know exactly what you were great at but you were great," you say sincerely, "And I was great too, as much as I hate it, but did you see my animated cheer?"

"Yeah, it was amazing," he says just as honestly as you, only more enthusiastic, "But there was something missing from your whole outfit."

You frown.

"What?"

"The sign with my name on it like in the movies," he says and you snort again, as he laughs, "I would have loved to see that."

"One step at a time, Captain. It was already too much for me to fulfill my role as a cheerleader girlfriend supporting her boyfriend."

"I really enjoyed it," he says, watching you for a moment with complicity.

"As long as there aren't any more games so soon, I think I can handle it."

"And what about the parties?" he teases you.

"Let's correct the contract, because I think I'm only going to accompany you to one party per month. So that will be five parties total during the whole farse, but with this one that makes four."

"Oh yeah? Then I think I'm only going to drive you to school once a month, so that will be five rides total during the whole farse, but since three days have already passed where I've done you the favor, now you only have two left."

"That's not fair!"

"Oh I think it's more than fair."

You both sink into soft laughter and the conversation between the two during the ride is light, talking about the match and the farce more than anything else.

Until finally Aemond arrives in the neighborhood where his friend's house is located and soon enough he parks near the house, where from this distance you hear the music and also see other cars parking and boys along with girls walking down the street heading towards the party.

You let out a sigh as you anticipate all the people already inside the house and how the party must be, as you and Aemond unbuckle your seatbelts.

"Well, are you ready?" he watches you slightly expectantly and with a soft look.

"Promise you really won't leave me alone," you urge him once again, serious.

"I promise," he says honestly, making pinky promise with you, "But here we must be together and I mean really together. Pretend we're crazy about each other. Remember, in places like these, a couple never stops being all over each other, so we have to pretend and pretend real good."

You swallow hard and he gives you a reassuring look, while you take a few seconds and finally nod. You place a softer face and lightly bite the inside of your cheek.

"Yeah, okay, I get it," you say softly, licking your lips.

"I'm not going to leave you alone. I'm going to be with you always," he assures you one last time before getting out of the car.

And you let out a heavy sigh, you get out of the car as well.

The pretending isn't over yet and this time, you're sure you and Aemond are going to take it to the next level. And it's still a lot to process but reluctantly and because you signed a contract, you enter the party together with him.

taglist:

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff @bluerskiees @urmomsgirlfriend1 @toodlesxcuddles @rosie-posie08 @iloveallmyboys @bellaisasleep @deliaseastar @cupcakesminicakescupcakes

[kiss-me-cill-me]

Follow Me Down

Pairing: Robert Fischer x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Dealing with Robert's advances feels like a full time job in itself. When he finally pushes you past your breaking point at a company party, you decide that it's time to teach him a lesson.

Warnings: Smut, hate sex, semi-public sex, mean reader, pushy/bratty Robert, kind of switch!Robert, S&M themes, oral (f receiving), face sitting, high heel kink, spit kink, choking, non-consensual creampie, name calling (including one use of "bitch"), workplace harassment, degradation, misogyny, mentions of drinking/alcohol, reader insults Robert by suggesting that he would spike her drink (but it does not actually happen)

A/N: Are New Year's Eve fics a thing? If not, they should be haha. I love New Year's Eve, so as a little early present, please enjoy this piece of absolute filth. Title was inspired by George Taylor's song Come Follow Me Down, which I listened to on repeat while writing the smut portion of this. Thank you for reading, and I'm wishing you all a great start to 2024!

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Robert Fischer was the kind of man who had everything handed to him in life, and it showed. He was petulant, unserious, and thoughtless. Or at least, mostly thoughtless; he did possess the very annoying ability to badger the living hell out of someone in order to get what he wanted. And tonight, as was so unfortunately often the case, the focus of his one-track mind was you.

He was trailing after you now, either oblivious to or willfully ignorant of the look of annoyance plastered over your face as you tried to lose him. He barely had to hurry to keep up.

“Don’t be shy asking for my help with closing that big merger if you need it,” he told you.

You grimaced. You knew how to do your job.

“Robert, let’s not talk about work while we’re off the clock,” you said shortly, trying to make your voice as sweet as possible so that he wouldn’t have an excuse to comment on your tone.

You were at the company’s New Year’s Eve party. Ostensibly, this was the last of (too many) excuses littered throughout the year for the big wig executives to drink expensive booze and make fools of themselves on the company dime. And, annoyingly, it was also yet another opportunity for Fischer to try and sleep with you. 

“Okay. Let me get you a drink then,” he offered.

You decided you were done being sweet. You stopped and turned on your heel to face him.

“I wouldn’t leave you alone with my drink for two seconds, much less accept one you’d gotten your grubby little mitts on,” you hissed.

Robert made no indication that he understood what you were insinuating. Instead, he rested a hand on your waist, tugging you just a bit closer to him.

“Then I’ll escort you to the bar,” he said. “And I’ll even keep my hands on you, so you’ll know that I haven’t touched your drink.”

He was disgusting. 

“Why don’t you escort yourself?” you shot back, shaking out of his grip.

You were abstaining from drinks tonight, wanting to keep your wits about you just in case Robert tried to get too handsy. Or, handsier than he usually was. This was a fairly frequent occurrence, and although you were used to it, it still pissed you off. Robert was nothing you couldn’t handle, but the arrogant rich boy attitude got old quick. It annoyed you that you couldn’t say anything without risking the job you had worked so hard for. Unlike him, you hadn’t been born into a world that put you automatically on a pedestal. On the contrary, it often felt like people were trying to kick you off the ledge.

Robert was walking behind you again, thankfully keeping his hands to himself even as he hovered at your heels, and you walked deeper into the party. All around you, drunken coworkers reveled and laughed. There was only about one hour left in the year, and by god the company was going to spend it drinking enough champagne to kill an elephant.

“Come on,” Robert called behind you, still trailing. “Don’t you know how to take a joke?”

You ignored him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. As you wove your way through the crowd, one of the higher-ups signaled to you. 

You jumped at the opportunity, hoping that Robert would at least have the common decency to leave you be while you were talking to a man who was essentially your boss. But of course, rules and manners didn’t apply to Robert Fischer like they would to anyone else. As you talked with the executive about mergers and acquisitions, Robert stood directly behind you. Practically breathing down your neck. You had to bite your tongue when he placed a hand on the small of your back again. What the hell did he think he was doing?

After a few minutes, the higher-up - slightly intoxicated - excused himself and wandered off, leaving you alone again with the man who was quickly becoming the bane of your existence.

“Robert-” you started to bark.

“God, you’re sexy when you talk business,” Robert interrupted.

You were facing him again, his arm still wrapped around you possessively. You caught a whiff of bourbon on his breath. He certainly wasn’t drunk, but the alcohol had clearly loosened his tongue. Usually he wasn’t this forward. You frowned.

“And you’re an unprofessional prick.”

Your outburst almost seemed to shock you more than it did Robert. His expression never faltered, except to allow a small smirk to spread across his lips.

“Sweetheart, don’t flatter me like that,” he teased. “A pretty girl like you could give a guy like me ideas.”

He raised his eyebrows at you as he said “ideas,” lowering his voice a bit. You got the message.

“I’m sorry if I was unclear,” you said, trying not to speak through clenched teeth. “But the only idea I want to give you is to leave me the hell alone.”

Robert put his hands up, pretending to look wounded. Or maybe he was going for shocked. As if you hadn’t made it abundantly clear already just how uninterested you were. He took a step back, to your relief.

“Okay, I can see you need some time to cool off,” he relented. Finally, you were getting somewhere. “But can you really blame me for getting mixed signals?”

You had no idea what Robert was talking about, until he started pointing above him. Your eyes trailed up, and you saw for the first time a little sprig of mistletoe, hanging in the hallway. A leftover from the company’s Christmas decorations. Of all the places you could have been standing… When you looked back at Robert, your mouth was a thin line.

“What are you, twelve?” you asked. 

He just smiled. 

“Christmas is over, Robert,” you said coldly.

As you started to walk away, he called after you.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying!”

Fischer was right about one thing - you did need some time to cool off. Being around him made your skin crawl. It made you feel like you needed a shower and a guzzle of holy water, just to exorcize any lingering traces of him from your system. A gin and tonic would probably have at least some of the same effects. And you were craving one, but you reminded yourself that you needed to stay sharp. Robert had left you alone for now, but it was only a matter of time before he would be back. You settled for just the tonic.

Rubbing your head as you walked through the party, horribly bitter drink in hand, you wondered why you had even bothered to come. So much of what you did was for the sake of appearances. Anything to claw your way ahead. Though of course, even you had limits. Sleeping with Fischer would, ironically, probably end in a boon to your career. But you definitely weren’t about to let yourself sink to that level. 

You looked down at your gin-less tonic, twist of lime bobbing lazily in the bubbles. Why were you even drinking this? It certainly wasn’t for the taste. You dumped the rest of your drink in a potted plant, and set the empty glass down on a table.

This party was a total drag. But, you figured, at least you wouldn’t have to go far to find a little solitude. One of the benefits of working for an insanely wealthy company like Fischer Morrow was that even mid-level employees like you got extravagant offices. Your high heels clicked against the tile as you strode off, eager to leave the maddening din - and Robert Fischer - behind.

You reached your office door, and instantly knew that something was off. Behind the frosted windows, you could tell that the lights were on. The party was on the floor below yours; there should have been nobody up here, much less in your private office. Maybe it was just one of the cleaners, working late. Well, no problem. They would be easy enough to get rid of, and then you could regroup and prepare yourself for the remainder of a night full of fending off Robert’s advances. You pushed open the door.

Really, you should have seen this coming. Of course it wasn’t going to be this easy to get rid of him.

“Robert,” you sighed. You took in the sight of him, sitting in your swivel chair and looking very pleased with himself. “Do I really have to ask you to get out of my office?”

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he taunted, effortlessly throwing your own words back at you. He winked, and you narrowed your eyes.

You walked over to your desk, large and shiny with a stained walnut finish. It was an expensive piece of furniture, and one that Robert somehow managed to look right at home sitting behind. As if he owned the place. Which was closer to the truth than you particularly liked to think about. 

“Why do you enjoy doing this?” you asked, not expecting a real answer.

“I just like getting a rise out of you,” Robert said.

It sounded strangely honest. You leaned over your desk, staring down at him. Trying to size him up.

“You’re very mean when you want to be,” Robert continued, almost observationally.

You weren’t sure where he was going with this. Sure, you could be mean. It was part of the reason why you’d achieved the position you were in now; you didn’t advance in business by being a pushover.

Robert, you noticed, was currently staring down the front of your dress. You scrambled to stand up, and crossed your arms over your chest. The little pervert wasn’t even trying to hide it. You circled the desk, coming to rest on the side where Robert still sat, watching you calmly. You silently willed him to get out of your chair; to leave your office and give you twenty seconds of peace. He didn’t, of course, and so you took a seat on the desk, crossing your legs and tapping one foot in the air.

“So, what? Do you get off on me being mean to you or something?” you pressed.

Robert shrugged, neither confirming nor denying. For some reason, that infuriated you even more. You hated his smug face; that little smirk he was wearing right now that meant he was getting what he wanted. You had the sudden urge to slap him. Maybe that would teach him a lesson.

“And what about you?” Robert asked. “What do you get out of this?”

“Me?!” You were incredulous. “Christ. What could I possibly be getting out of putting up with you constantly bothering me?”

Robert shrugged again, and your desire to slap him grew.

“Maybe you get off on it too,” he guessed. “Being mean, that is.”

“You think I get off on doing this?” you scoffed. “Do you ever think about anything besides sex?”

“You’re the one who brought up getting off; not me.”

You were really going to lose it. You could barely see Fischer sitting in front of you now for all of the angry red that was swirling through your vision. He thought he could walk in here, sit at your desk, and then tell you you got off on being mean to him? He didn’t know how mean you could be.

“What’s your end goal with all this, Robert? You really think you’re gonna get to live out whatever twisted fantasy you’ve made me a part of in that sick little head of yours?”

“Maybe,” Robert said nonchalantly. You could feel him undressing you with his eyes.

“Yeah? What are you hoping to do to me?” you prodded. You didn’t care what you were saying anymore; you were way past the point of professionalism. “Probably tie me up and watch me try to fight you off, right?”

Robert looked up at you very calmly, holding your angry gaze as he answered you.

“I’d rather have you step on me with those heels,” he said.

You were taken aback.

“Excuse me?”

“I said: I want you to step on me with those slutty little stilettos you keep waving in my face,” he repeated.

You froze. One foot was braced against the drawers of your desk, and the other was poised in the air, hovering just in front of Robert’s knee as he sat in your chair.

“What’s the matter?” Robert asked. “I warned you you’d give a guy like me ideas, didn’t I?”

Part of you was in shock. This was not how you had expected this interaction to go. But another part of you - a corner of your mind that you didn’t even want to acknowledge - really was turned on by the idea of putting him in his place. You grinned.

“What makes you think I’d do that for you?” you hummed, mocking him.

Before he had a chance to respond, you lifted your foot and pressed the sharp point of your heel against the fleshy part of Robert’s shoulder. His expensive suit jacket started to crease. You pushed your heel in a little more, pushing him back just an inch.

Robert’s eyes started to wander, trying to sneak a look under your dress as you sat in front of him, your leg lifted up to press into his shoulder. 

“You’re a pig,” you told him, shifting your foot so that it was in the middle of his chest. 

The new angle made it a little harder for him to get a peek, with your legs more pressed together. Robert’s eyes drifted back to your face, a look of restrained amusement dancing across his own features. He was trying to play it cool, but you noticed the way his fingers dug into the chair’s leather armrests.

“Just another pretty boy in a suit,” you continued, inching the toe of your shoe up toward his collar. 

The point of your heel was right over his sternum, and Robert started to smile. He really was enjoying this, and the realization both repulsed and aroused you.

“Think you can take whatever you want. You need to be put in your place.”

You pushed back with your foot, making Robert’s chair roll a few inches so that you had space to stand up between him and the desk. You planted one foot on the floor, and the other directly over his crotch, pressing in with the dull toe of your shoe. The point of your heel rested on the chair in front of him, between his slightly parted legs. You weren’t trying to impale the poor man, but the devious look that Robert fixed on you as you towered over him almost made it look like he would have preferred if you did.

“Told you y’get off on being mean,” he teased.

You grabbed hold of his tie and pulled his face closer to yours as you looked down at him.

“Robert, if you think this is what a woman looks like when she gets off, I have some very bad news for you. Why don’t you show me what that pretty mouth is good for?”

You pushed away from him, climbing back up on the desk and spreading your legs. The tight black dress you wore rode up your thighs, and Robert instantly dropped to his knees in front of you. He hooked a finger into the crotch of your panties, using it to drag them to the side until you were on display for him.

“You can deny all you want,” he mocked, “but you wouldn’t be this wet if you really didn’t enjoy it.”

“Jesus. Stop talking,” you ordered.

You shoved his face between your legs, and his tongue eagerly came out to lick at you. You were wet - there really wasn’t any denying it - but you didn’t need him pointing out that fact as if he weren’t the one desperately lapping at your cunt. Robert was the pathetic one here; you were really just going along with things to teach him a lesson. If he wanted you to walk all over him, you would make sure he regretted ever crossing paths with you. And if you happened to get off while doing it - well,  you'd just chalk that down as some much-needed stress relief. Dealing with Robert was exhausting.

You hooked your legs over his arms, pinning him in place as he balanced himself against the desk. As much as you hated to admit it, he was good at this. Very good. His tongue was lavishing you; his blue eyes never breaking contact with yours as he ate you out. The way he was looking up at you felt dirty and yet dangerously addicting, all at the same time. Your hand tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer as your breath hissed through your teeth. Abruptly, you pulled him away.

“Get on the desk,” you commanded, a little out of breath.

Robert stood up, wiped his smug face, and started to climb up onto the desk.

“On your back.”

He laid down, swinging his feet up so that he was fully spread out across the hard surface. You reached up under your dress to remove your panties. Having him hold them to the side was only getting in the way.

You carefully got up on the desk with him, knees resting on either side of his face.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you scoffed, half for your own benefit.

“Think of it this way,” Robert smirked beneath you. “Isn’t it gonna make you happy to wipe this smile off my face?”

“I thought I told you to shut up.”

You sat down, putting almost your full weight on his face. Robert reached up to grab hold of your thighs, supporting you, and you were actually grateful for it even though it gave him an opportunity to grope at your ass. Your legs were getting weaker every second, and you could feel yourself tipping over the edge.

Part of the thrill was from being in such a compromising position. Before, if someone had walked in, there was a chance that Robert could stand up and you would be able to smooth down your dress in time to avoid getting caught. But now… well, riding a man’s face as he was splayed out on the desk beneath you was a little harder to recover from, logistically.

You ground your hips down, so tantalizingly close to coating his face in your release. Robert seemed to sense your urgency, and dug his fingers into your flesh, practically begging for it. His tongue dragged roughly across your clit, sucking with just the right pressure.

Your mouth hung open as you came, at first frozen in a silent scream and then moaning, sinfully, as an orgasm rolled over you. You seemed to shake from your shoulders down into your knees, and Robert’s tongue lapped up all of your arousal. He pressed his lips to your clit one final time as you slid off of him. 

When your hips were straddling his, Robert sat up to hold you. His hands were hungry, grabbing at your waist as he tried to pull you closer and into a kiss.

“No kissing,” you choked out, putting a hand on his chest to stop him.

Robert didn't try to push past you, just paused and looked up at you with light, teasing eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart. It's New Year's Eve. You're not gonna give me a kiss at midnight?” 

You swallowed, not trusting your shaky voice to respond without giving him more fuel to taunt you with. He didn't need it.

“Even after you already let me wrap my lips around your pretty cunt?” 

Your hand on his chest pressed down, pushing him back onto the hard wood. Robert smiled again, proud of himself for getting to you. He really did know how to wind you up.

“You’re such a typical rich boy,” you spat. “So used to getting anything you ask for.”

“Usually I don’t even have to ask,” Robert corrected.

“Right. Other women just throw themselves at you?” You felt your hatred flare.

He gave you that knowing look again, but kept his smirking mouth shut. You noticed the way your arousal still glistened against his lips. The whole lower half of his face, actually, was drenched, and the sight of it sent a pang of renewed desire all through you.

Suddenly, Robert’s grip tightened at your waist. He bunched up the fabric of your dress, exposing you a little more, and forced you down onto his leg. 

“Use me to get yourself off.”

Already impatient, his hands had started to pull at your hips, making you rock back and forth. The cloth of his suit pants brushed roughly against your exposed clit, still sensitive from his earlier treatment. But still, it felt good. Too good.

“Robert-”

You had opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.

“Mm, say my name, baby.”

He was so full of himself. Something snapped in you, and your hand flew up to his neck. As your grip tightened, Robert only threw his head back.

“Honestly, do you ever shut up?” you spat.

Despite yourself, your hips started to stutter against him, desperate to rub harder as the pressure started to build in you again. For whatever reason, you found yourself going along with Robert’s demands once more. Your hand on his neck squeezed.

“You really do get everything you want,” you hissed, teeth clenching against the ache that was rapidly growing between your legs.

“Not true,” Robert choked out beneath you. His voice was straining from your grip, but you could still hear the hint of satisfaction. “I haven’t gotten to stick it in you yet.”

Your walls clenched around nothing, and you hated how his words could affect you. You angrily took it out on him, pressing the hand on his neck down even harder. Robert hissed out through his teeth, then dissolved into a rough cry of pleasure. 

“Fuck," you gasped.

Your grip loosened, suddenly, as a wave of ecstasy came crashing over you for the second time. It was unexpected and fast, taking you by such surprise that you fell forward on the desk a little, caging Robert’s face with your arms. Your stomach churned with embarrassment as the feeling faded, and you realized that just the sound of his voice had been enough to push you over the edge.

You looked down, and saw Robert’s eyes full of mirth. His face was flushed, blood rushing back now that your hand was off him. A few strands of hair stood out of place against his forehead. Honestly, he was a mess; clothes all wrinkled and normally-neat red tie knocked askew. You could feel yourself dripping. His very expensive suit pants were probably ruined. Although, that was really his problem.

“Tell me again how you don’t get off on being mean?” Robert rasped below you.

You were panting, and clearly in no position to answer him. But even if you had been able to speak, you certainly weren’t about to tell him that it had been his animalistic moan that really made you come. Robert started to sit up a little, keeping one arm around your waist.

“You hate me so much.” Robert’s voice was still slightly hoarse, but there was that tone of amusement, as usual. 

“Poor little rich boy.”

It was all you could think to say, still trying to recover from two orgasms back to back. Robert gave you a look that was almost pitying.

“When are you gonna admit that you’re just jealous?” Robert purred.

You gave him a look of disgust, hoping your scowl would communicate everything that you couldn’t verbalize. Your head was still reeling, dizzy from the rush.

“You think you’re better than everyone else just because you have to scramble to get ahead? Please. You wish you had it as easy as me.” Robert’s hands came up to grasp at your wrists, holding you in place as he brought his lips close to yours. “But lucky for me, you’re not above sleeping your way to the top.”

Is that really what he thought this was? No. That wasn’t the reason for this. Inch by inch, Robert was bringing his lips closer to you. This bastard, thinking he understood you. Infuriated, you did the only thing you could think to do, and spit on him.

He stopped, but didn’t look particularly surprised. The trail of spit started to drip down his face, mixing on his cheek with the leftover sheen of your arousal. Calmly, Robert brought a hand up to his face and wiped off the efforts of your rebellion.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you, sweetheart.”

In the next instant, Robert’s hands were at his belt, nimble fingers working the buckle. You noticed for the first time how painfully stretched his pants were. He had to be in agony. But, you thought bitterly, that was probably exactly how he wanted it.

“Here - why don’t you spit on my cock?” he goaded, pulling himself out of his briefs.

Your eyes blew wide at the sight of him. That certainly explained the amount of confidence he had. You struggled to shoot back a response.

“In your dreams,” you muttered.

“Don’t be like that,” Robert chided, pouting a little bit.

As much as he liked to act, you could tell that he wasn’t really hurt. Someone as arrogant as Robert Fischer could never be truly bothered by anything. This was merely an inconvenience. He pinched your cheeks between his rough fingers, forcing you to look down at his dick with your mouth open. A long, wet rope of saliva fell from your lips.

“There, was that so hard?”

Robert’s pinching hand left your face as he brought it down to rub at his length, hastily working your spit over himself.

“This is for your benefit anyway,” he winked. “Don’t want it to hurt you too much.”

You watched, almost mesmerized, as he pumped himself a few more times. Satisfied, he stood up, taking you with him. Standing in your heels, you were almost as tall as him, and he looked directly into your eyes.

“Now, do you want me to fuck you over the desk, or up against the wall?”

You almost couldn’t believe his audacity. You glared at him, a heavy, electrical silence hanging between you.

“Tick-tock, sweetheart.”

“Go to hell, Robert,” you answered. 

“Well, then I guess we’re doing what I want.” He smiled. “How ironic.”

He lifted you up in one swift motion, and then your back was against the wall. The head of his cock was pressing into you, and the stretch was almost painful.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he hissed. “Just what I would expect from a stuck-up little bitch.”

His words stung, but not as much as the snap of his hips as he thrust into you, forcing a little whine out of your lips. You grit your teeth, trying to muffle your reaction.

“You squeeze me so good when you’re angry,” Robert laughed. “Fuck.”

His hands were digging into you, holding you up as he pulled out and then pressed greedily back in. Your head pushed back against the wall, overwhelmed by his size. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Too much for you?” he teased.

“You- wish-”

Your words cut off as Robert fucked sharply into you again, then paused. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, pulling his hips against you as you tried to hold yourself up. It only made him push deeper. 

“Fuck, Robert-!”

You cried out, interrupting yourself again, and felt his lips brush against your neck.

“I didn’t even move that time, baby,” he smirked. 

You couldn’t stand to see him so smug. Somewhere deep inside yourself, you found strength.

“W-what are you waiting for, then? Get to work, pretty boy.”

Robert grinned as he thrust into you, even more powerfully than before. You wanted to whimper, but bit your tongue. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“You really are something else,” Robert chuckled.

His pace had started to speed up, and now he was pumping in and out of you relentlessly, each thrust pushing you back against the wall. Your body had finally adjusted to his girth, and you were almost starting to enjoy the stretch. Not to mention the way that his head hit a certain spot inside of you, nearly making you fall apart every time he brushed against it.

You were finding it harder and harder to suppress your moans, and every now and then one would slip out of your tightly-pressed lips. Robert seemed to speed up every time he heard you whimper.

“Fuck!” you swore, as he hit a particularly deep spot.

“You take my cock so well,” he grunted. Even trying to keep his cool, it was clear that he was only seconds away from release. “Now let’s see how you take my cum.”

“Not… not inside,” you panted.

“Don’t- fucking- tell me what to do.”

“Don't fucking come in me!”

Pressed against the wall, your options for retaliation were limited. Your legs could do nothing but wrap around him; his hands stopping you from putting your feet on the floor. Your own hands were occupied gripping at the lapels of his suit, hanging on for dear life as he split you open. Really, the only available part of you was your mouth.

Your lips bruised hard against his, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting hard enough that you hoped it hurt. Robert let out a muffled growl against you, and you sank your teeth in more.

Somewhere far away, a clock chimed and the party below you surged drunkenly. Robert thrust his hips into you one last time, and then you felt him painting your walls; cum leaking out of you as he held you, still suspended in the air. As the buzzing in your head started to fade, you realized he was smiling against your lips.

You jaw relaxed just enough for Robert to pull himself away. His lip was bruised; angry red from where your teeth had scraped him. He was even more disheveled than he had been, and, somehow, even more satisfied with himself.

“Ended up giving me that kiss anyway,” he rasped, voice still heavy from exertion and lust. “And right at midnight, too.”

You felt your hatred surge again, weakly. You were exhausted; barely able to keep yourself upright when Robert finally set you on your feet. He stepped away, leaving you to tug down your dress and try to make yourself presentable. A very difficult task, considering you still had fresh cum leaking out of you. Your eyes quickly scanned the floor for your panties. You would not stoop to searching on your hands and knees for them. Not until Robert left your office, at least.

Robert finished zipping his pants and replacing his belt, shiny silver buckle clicking under his fingers. He tugged at his suit, barely making a dent in the wrinkles, and smoothed a hand over his hair.

“Well, I would say ‘same time next week,’ but I think it would be easier to pencil you in at lunch,” Robert joked. “Maybe we can finally have that drink before I take you back to my office. You’ll have a really nice view of the city while I fuck you against the window.”

You really couldn’t believe the nerve. Although, by now, it should have been easy to expect no less from Robert. You walked right up to him and planted a finger in the center of his chest.

“If you think I’m ever having sex with you again, you’re twice as delusional as I thought you were,” you huffed. 

Robert took one more long look at you, and shrugged.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

[reverieblondie]

My Star

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X DancerFem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Praise, Mutual masterbaition, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it),Oral, Cum eating, losing of virginity (mentioned), Ripping of clothes, Drink play?, Blindfolded reader.

Summary: The theaters new patron is an important man, as you dance you feel his eyes on you, you can't help but feel addicted to the way he stares at you...

A/N: I haven't wrote Smut in a minute so I might be a bit rusty...This idea came to me as I was watching Phantom of the Opera. I just need a Victorian Miguel to ravish me while calling me his star. This is pretty cheesy and a total self serving fic but I hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 6,532

Looking around as you fix your hair you see that the theater is bustling. Dancers are frantically putting on makeup rushing and bumping into one another. The crew is in a hustle setting up the stage, the show isn’t for a few days why is everyone acting like it’s happening tonight? Today is just a normal practice? 

Leaning over to your friend you whisper your question, “What’s going on? Why is everyone acting in a tissy?” 

Your friend Cristina stops adjusting her practice dress and looks at you with wide eyes, “Have you not heard? A new patron is coming to observe the theater with the owners today during rehearsal, they want us all to be perfect or else you're cut!” 

Eyes going wide, you go to ask where she had gotten her information but before you can the madam of the ballet is coming to make sure everyone is prepared. With everyone frantically preparing you rush around backstage into position, stopping to dust your shoes in the rosin box so you have a good grip, and can’t afford any slips. 

Going over your choreography for your short solo, tracking your counts, the sound of whispers starts to distract you.

“I heard that he is one of the most powerful men in Nueva York, filthy rich.” 

“Exactly what we need is a bored man with too much money then he knows what to do with.” 

“Well, his name is Miguel O’Hara, and besides him being wealthy and powerful I hear he’s also gorgeous” 

They proceeded to giggle amongst themselves, seeming to find joy in their comments but the words about the man only seem to make you more nervous. It’s your job to impress this man to save the theater that holds your ballet company.

The company is very dear to you for having taken you in when you were a young girl, the madam didn’t care that you were a lowly orphan with a name that meant nothing she saw you and took you in despite it. And now everyone's careers are dependent on impressing this patron, hopefully you won’t mess it up for everyone…

Watching the stage you are patiently waiting for your cue when the distinct feeling of eyes watching you stirs your concentration. Moving your eyes to the stage's side you try to pinpoint where this feeling is coming from. 

Then you see the mahogany eyes fixed on you, the gaze is intense, perfectly complimenting the structured face of the burnet. His stature towers in comparison to the theater owners groveling at him. This must be Mr. O’Hara, they were right he is gorgeous and with how he's dressed in a luxurious day suit it was clear he has expenses to spare. 

As his eyes continue to stare you down you feel the nerves in your chest starting to spiral. Opting to look away you try to focus on catching your cue you almost missed it from being wrapped up in a brief staring contest.

On the stage now, you focus your breathing to look effortless while you dance, thankfully you hit all your counts perfectly. There where things you where okay at but dancing is where you excelled. Typically you where a pretty shy and reserved person but once you where on the stage dancing you transformed into your character. And now as you move effortlessly you feel that things were going great.

Towards the end of your routine, you're doing your piqué turns. For this, you found it helpful to keep your eyes on something so to not get dizzy and lose yourself amidst the turns, usually your eyes keep on a random prop or on something hanging on the wall but instead, you find your eyes unconsciously fixing to something else or actually someone else. 

Your eyes lock on Miguels, again. As you're already in your turns it's too late to fix your gaze on something else so you keep your eyes on his. While you do you see his head slightly tilt and the corner of his full lips twitch upwards. The intense stare instantly makes you flush, and with consistent eye contact, you feel your body heat up with a pleasant rush that you know is being shown through the flushing features on your face. 

Eye contact is something you often struggle with, and now you have the keen eyes of Miguel on you, staring at you as you dance. Your breath stutters for a moment and you feel yourself stumble slightly but you're quick to save it. -Damn you hope nobody notices that. 

Finishing the turns you finally get off the main stage back to the side where you can focus on catching your breath before you can rush back to the dressing room to find your friend and tell her about your little staring contest with the potential patron. As you walk, albeit dizzily from the turns, not fully paying attention to your surroundings; suddenly you bump into what feels like a wall and then the feeling of two large hands catches you from falling backward. 

Letting out a slight squeak from the sudden collision you look up to see what you hit when a soft chuckle makes your throat dry. You move your eyes up and…Danm, Up Close he's even more striking and his figure is even more imposing. Despite him being the most intimidating man imaginable you feel a comfort from him as your being held in his large hands -he’s surprisingly gentle for his size.

“Woah, you okay there?” his voice purs as his eyes stay on yours. You try to think of something to respond with, but you feel like you have suddenly become mute, and then the two theater owners are chiming in. 

“Sir we apologize for her clumsiness, our dancers are usually more graceful.” 

“And pay more attention…” One of the men's grits makes you back away with your head low. With your head down you can see that you have stepped on his shoes creasing them and leaving rosin residue. Immediately you panic, damaging his shoes was sure to leave a sour taste in his mouth and you need to fix this before it's too late!  

Dropping to your knees in front of him you try to wipe away the residue apologizing profusely, “I- I am so so s-sorry sir… Please let me-” 

“Don't apologize” His smooth voice beacons as he holds a hand down to help you up from your knees. 

“But, I damaged your shoes. Please let me clean them.” 

Miguel laughs slightly as he grabs your hand, you can't help but notice how small yours seems in comparison. Back on your feet, you look up at him to see his full lips in a soft smile that makes your heart skip a beat. You think you could melt from just looking at him, you feel like a young girl again getting a silly crush so instantaneously. 

“You're too precious to clean shoes, I'm in shock that someone with your talent would even speak to me.”  

You feel your face become red. The owners are quick to speak up, “Mr. O’Hara you flatter her, she has talent but your importance far excites-”

Before he can finish his sentence Miguel is shooting him a displeased look that quickly makes him bite his tongue before he moves his eyes back to you. His whole face softens towards you, how he can go from so intimidating to gentle in an instant is a skill all on its own. 

“You dance beautifully, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.” He offers.

Feeling your heart flutter in your chest, you avert your gaze as a goofy smile spreads to your lips, though he doesn't seem to mind, only smiling more and tilting his head to try and keep your eyes. 

“Thank you, sir, you're too kind.'' Gathering all your courage you meet his eyes and give a warm smile in appreciation, praises are not something you receive a lot of, your teachers opting for more corrective and stern approaches. So receiving kind words from a stranger makes your heart leap.

Moments pass of Miguel completing your dancing go by. A part of you wishes to continue the conversation but you don’t want to be a bother nor risk facing the wrath of the owners or your teachers, so you say your goodbyes and excuse yourself backstage.

Miguel watches as you leave, he's completely captivated by your sweet shyness and the curves of your figure. He feels warmth spreading across his body as his eyes linger on you. 

“Having given it considerable thought…I would love to help out the theater.” 

The owners light up and start to ramble but Miguel quickly holds up a hand to silence them, “If I am going to be a patron to this theater however I want an invite to every show, and '' His finger points towards you “I want her to have opportunities for excellence. Do I make myself clear?” 

They quickly nod their heads and Miguel nods before he heads off, feeling happy for agreeing to the tour he no longer sees as pointless. 

It’s been three months since Miguel became our theater's patron and things have been great! Despite the rumors about him being a cold callus man, he was proving to be an amazing attribute to the theater. 

After his first tour of the theater, he paid for some much-needed renovations. After that was set up he took the liberty to hired acting and singing instructors to help the performers enhance their skills. Every week Miguel came by to check on how things where running. He would reach out to the crew and orchestra for all their needs, also checking in on the business and advertising sides of things to make sure the theater kept being profitable. Being a successful business owner himself, everyone was eager to listen to his guidance. 

Every time Miguel would visit the theater, towards the end of his visit he would watch the rehearsals for the upcoming shows. Admittedly at first it made you nervous having a man like him watch the rehearsals but Miguel was always silent, watching intensely with a slight tinge of a smile on his full lips. But slowly over time something changed where you started to like it.

It was an exciting experience having him watching the practices, it drove everyone to work harder and take the practices seriously. Plus you would never tell another soul but the feeling of his eyes racking over your body as you performed filled you with a tantalizing rush.

After awhile it seemed like Miguel was always around the theater. It struck some people as odd that an important man like him would waste his time at the theater, but you welcomed it. You began to look forward to catching glimpses of him. Though when he would catch you staring you would shy away. 

Then after a while, maybe because he caught you staring so much, Miguel started to have conversations with you. At first they were only about the performances and asking if everything was going well at the theater, but they slowly dissolved into more personable conversation.

Miguel would often inquire about you, your interest and your past. At first when you would talk you where very private about your up ringing being an orphan with no family. Many people saw that as something to be ashamed of, but slowly as you developed a friendship with Miguel you opened yourself up more and where greeted with only acceptance. Though this could only be him trying to be kind. As you continued to speak with him you found that you had grown closer yes but he still made you nervous.

You where sure this steamed from how he kept his eyes on you, those piercing eyes…

As a performer, you are used to having eyes on you but Miguel's gaze was different, it was intense and alluring. It never fails to make your stomach flutter and your face burn. You would always shy away from his gaze but a part of you was addicted to how he would watch you.

Before you knew it you were slowly falling for the theater's patron, not that anyone could blame you for it. Many of the dancers held a flame for Miguel wanting to be the girl he would favor, but everyone knew that was just a fantasy, a man of his social class was meant to be with someone from the same social circle, not impoverished dancers like you…so you would just have to settle for the friendship you two shared. 

Today was one of the days Miguel decided to visit, everyone was frantic and trying to make practice perfect as Miguel watched. Tomorrow's show of the ballet Raymanda, it had everyone frantic, not only did they want the show to go well but there was the added pressure of the show being requested by Miguel, apparently stating it was one of his favorites. 

It had taken you by surprise when you learned that a man like him would like such a romantic ballet but it only made you fall deeper in your feelings for him. With the knowledge that this was his favorite play fueling your desires, you had practiced extra hard and tried out for the lead role that were lucky enough to have landed.  

Everyone was ecstatic for you to have your first lead role and when word got to Miguel about your success he had sent over a dozen red roses to you with a note congratulating you. The kind gesture wasn’t lost on you so you promised yourself that once you see Miguel again you would thank him properly.

The only problem with your plan however is how meek you would grow when around him. Sure you two had a friendship of sorts but it didn’t mean you where not still shy when around him.

When you had explained to your friend about your feelings for him and she was always more than encouraging, but you knew that you and Miguel's relationship was only meant for friendship. Even so, Cristina said that even as just friends you need to not behave so meekly in his presence, he could perceive it as rude and stop conversing with you. A thought that you hated to consider.  

So, as today’s rehearsals wrap up, you muster all your courage as you watch Miguel approach you. -okay, this is your opportunity to thank him for his consistent support and his lovely flowers and notes. Deep breath and don’t behave like a flustered schoolgirl. 

“You're going to make a perfect Raymonda.” 

“Really? Thank you, I hope I live up to everyone’s expectations.” Miguel smiles at you, watching as you fidget with your fingers swaying slightly on your anxious feet.

Taking a deep breath you move your eyes up to his, conviction fills your eyes as you're determined to look into his. Meeting the deep mahogany of his eyes you feel your breath hitch. They are so piercing…striking…beautiful, he’s beautiful… Uhhg come on, just get a grip!

“I wanted to thank you for the roses and the lovely letter you left me, your constant support means a great deal to me.” 

“No need to thank me.” he leans in to whisper to you “You're my favorite performer, and I am so excited for tomorrow's performance. I hope you are not nervous” 

A giddy smile forms over your lips as you go to look down but you stop yourself and meet his eyes again fixing your smile to a softer one, “I am slightly nervous but I feel better knowing that you're going to be watching me. I hope to continue to be your favorite…” 

Miguel seems surprised by your words, then he is the one breaking away from your eyes. As you watch him he raises his large hand to cover the growing grin on his full lips. Blush seems to creep up from his neck to his face, he seems embarrassed like you usually are.  

“Well, I will be there to watch you mi estrella.”  Miguel regaining his composure steps closer leaning down so his warm breath fans over the shell of your ear making a wave of goosebumps rush your skin, “And you will always be my favorite…” With that, Miguel leaves with your heart.  

You were on cloud nine after tonight's performance. People, some you knew, others you didn't, were all eager to hold and shake your hand, with praises and congratulations on your performance. Though you appreciated all the kind words you couldn't help but be quick to get away from the crowd.

There was one person you were excited to see all shyness aside. Getting to talk to Miguel again after yesterday's conversation was all you could think about once the ballet ended. 

As you walked around looking for Miguel you found yourself in the secluded area of the theater. You tried your best to ignore the giggling and hums of the lovers hiding away in the shadows, stealing kisses and intimate touches in the night. This was a common occurrence after shows of people hiding away with their lovers in the back of the theater.

Shameful to admit but you have had the fantasy of you and Miguel being a set of lovers one day, sharing your secret desires as you hold each other closely, but that would only be a fond daydream for you to hold in your heart. In reality you know that it could never happen. Continuing your search, hear a sudden groan along with a muffled muttering. Approaching the noise you turn the corner and your heart drops.

Miguel pressed to the wall with a girl on her toes kissing him passionately. Confusion fills you, then the feeling of your heart aching causes you to let out a gasp. Miguel pushes the girl away for air and you are quick to run. Your heart hurts from what you saw, you cannot bear to see Miguel's eyes after that, if you did you would shatter. 

In your dressing room, you're stirring with all kinds of emotions. Why was she kissing him, why was he kissing her? Are they lovers? Yes, Miguel is gorgeous and quite desirable, but you haven't heard anything about him pursuing anyone. Was this a secret affair?

The sudden thought of Miguel being with that woman makes your stomach twist. Her touching him…his lips sliding up her neck…his eyes, his intense eyes staring at her while she…while they…

The sickly feeling in your stomach blooms along with that aching feeling in you heart, you wince from the pain.

Sitting in front of your vanity you hang your head low, thrush is, you're jealous. You want to be that girl, who steals kisses with Miguel in the dark. The one that gets to feel the rush of excitement as his hands gather up the skirt of your dress to touch you. The ones who his eyes soften for as he coos his sultry praises and his saccharine promises. 

Taking a deep breath you try to ease the aching in your chest; you're not her, you're just the nameless fool pining for a man you can never have. Feeling like an idiot you kick yourself for getting your hopes up. Convincing yourself he was interested in you, how foolish. He is in the arms of another and you only have yourself to blame, you never told him your feelings. Not that it would change things.

Sulking in your dressing room you fail to realize the door silently opening as a tall figure slips in. Locking the door with a soft click, he losessens his tie as he approaches you. Fidgeting with your fingers feeling sorry for yourself, you get a strange twinge stir within you, like someone is watching you. 

Lifting your head you're suddenly met with only darkness as a silky fabric is binded around your eyes turning everything black. The squeak that leaves your lips is involuntary and embarrassing. All your previous emotions fall away as uncertainty fill your chest. Quickly a familiar warmth fans over your ear causing your skin to prickle.

“Did I scare you, my star?” Miguel's voice is in that familiar pur you have fantasized endlessly about. 

“Miguel, why did you blind me?” 

He releases a hum, like he’s carefully considering your question, in truth, he’s just trying to keep you in suspense. 

“Because, I am not worthy to be gazed upon by someone as radiant as you” Instantly you feel your body quake at the praise, but before you can allow yourself to get carried away with your emotions you reground yourself bite and let out a shaky sigh. 

“Please don't tease me, Miguel…” 

Noting your unease Miguel hesitates from touching you further.

“What's wrong? Did I upset you?” Feeling his hands move to the knot of the blind you quickly to stand, stopping him from removing it.

“Wait, I need to say something to you and I think I can only get it out if I can't see you. Miguel, I saw you…with that other woman, kissing you. I know you're not mine…but, I-I yearn for you. Miguel you mean a lot to me, I would trade anything to be with you…even just to have a chance to kiss you, even for one night. I know that my name means nothing compared to yours but…” 

Before you can finish your statement lips are silencing you, melting you into a perfect kiss. Hands, large and warm, come up to cup your face as he leads the kiss. Miguel then breaks away and you almost whine at the loss. Though the whine is only for a moment as you then feel his lips kissing up your neck. 

“Don’t talk down about yourself mi estrella, you're perfect.”  

Opening your mouth to respond, Miguel takes the opportunity to silence you with a kiss once more. His hands glide down your waist before finding place on your hips. Leaning in you press yourself on him, relishing in his strong figure and insatiable warmth.

You want more, you want to feel him closely, deeply, you need him. Rising onto your toes you wrap your hands around his neck sliding up till you're grasping onto his thick locks of soft hair. 

A low-grown vibrates through his chest, feeling you becoming so desperate for him drives him mad. Miguel reaches his hand up as the other presses your hips against his almost grinding you onto him. The other hand is now on your jaw as he slips his tongue between your lips to steal a taste of you. The taste of him numbs your mind of all thoughts, the only thing you feel is need.

Your sex aches as you feel your slick starting to run down your thighs. He’s making you wet and needy for him, and you’re loving ever second.

The kiss makes you light-headed and you have to surrender and push away to catch your breath. Your face feels a deep shade of crimson as you try and catch your breath. Miguel you know is watching you, even with your vision obscuring the feeling of his eyes piercing you are ever-present. 

“Do you even know how long I’ve been wanting to do that?” he pressed you closer to him, your hands finding a place on his thrumming chest as his confined cock grids against your thigh. Making you throw your head back where his lips lick and nip at your exposed neck.

“Do you know what you do to me? How crazy you drive me?” he ruts into your leg more “How much I need you…” 

“What about that woman I saw?” 

Miguel's arms wrap around you pulling you further into his warmth. You could get as addicted to this feeling, blind and needy, getting high from his lips, his touch, his scent, his voice. You want to give yourself to him in every way. 

“That woman means nothing to me. She kissed me suddenly after cornering me as I looked for you. You're the only one for me.” He puts his head in the crock of your neck kissing against your pulse. “You're all I want….

“Miguel, I want you…I need you, I don’t care if it's only for one night…please…take me.” 

Moving his head away from your neck, he slides his hands down your back where he pulls the strings of your dress loose, you to shiver in anticipation. 

“If you want me then you will have me. But it won’t be for one night only. Once I have you I will want you every night” 

Finishing with the laces of your dress it effortlessly slides down your body polling on the floor leaving you in only your corset and lace slip. 

“So, I would be your’s?” 

Miguel chuckles as he effortlessly lifts you causing you wrap yourself around him, holding on tightly. Walking a short distance you feel yourself being laid down on what you assume to be the chaise in the dressing room.

Goosebumps rush your skin as Miguel carefully traces his finger tips down your covered breast, over your covered body, to your thin skirt. Once he reaches it he starts to gather the soft lace slowly moving the slit that exposes your leg to expose your dripping sex. 

“You can’t own a star, you can only admire it and wish it will grace you with its radiance.” 

He kisses you once more as his hand finish exposing you. You're completely bare and wet, you feel Miguel move his head back to look at your quivering wet sex.

Embarrassed, you try to close your legs but Miguel stops you and gently pushes your knees apart. 

“Let me worship you, let me take care of you…” 

His words are sweet and make your yearning worse. You move your hand to brush against your sex that flutters with desire.

“Yes…” is all you can muster in the moment and you try to soothe your hazy affliction. 

“Let me watch you…touch yourself for me,” he whispers in a honeyed voice.

Shyly you nod as you spread your legs further, exposing yourself right in front of his hungry eyes. 

Swallowing you try to sooth your dry throat as your fingers tease through your folds before spreading them open for Miguel. Keeping your hand spreading yourself open, your other comes down to rub tight circles over your clit. Turning away your flushed face, you now move your hand to where your thumb rubs your swollen bud and your index prodes at your glistening slit. 

“That's a good girl, so beautiful…keep going for me” 

His words make your mind hazy and your face burns, you hear Miguel fiddling with his clothes letting out soft groans as he whispers filth underneath his breath. He’s touching himself, you can hear his hand rubbing against his heavy length. The sounds of his moaning hums only drive you to want to give him a proper show.

Tracing your slit you tease yourself more before you slip your index and middle finger through your tight walls. The stretch is one you're familiar with but you ache for it to be Miguel's fingers instead. You know that with his large hands he would reach impossibly deep within you. The thought stirs you on more pushing in further into your soft walls getting wetter at the sensation of you fucking yourself for him. 

Miguel's shaky breaths push you further to your peak as you chase that tightening coil within your stomach. Your body shakes with your fevered actions.

Then he sounds as if he’s getting closer to you, his steps echoing through the room. You're begging out mumbling his name in a constant rhythm as you push yourself further and further. Though it's not enough, you need his touch, to feel his burning skin on yours, it’s the only way you're going to reach your satisfaction. 

“Miguel~” you moan, trying to entice him to touch you as you buckle your hips helplessly forward. 

He hums, he's so close to you now, and then his hand suddenly comes down to crease your face. It takes everything in you not to cry out a moan.

“That's it, baby, just like that” Then as quickly as it was there it leaves again leaving you to whine and continue your pursuit to cum. 

Pop

The sudden popping of a champagne bottle causes you to jump, making you stop and turn your head towards the noise. 

The warm heat of his body is radiating next to you again, you reach your hands up blindly searching for him. He grabs your slick-covered hand and brings it to his lips, careful kisses are peppered on your open palm then his slick tongue licks against your delicate fingers. He moans as he tastes your sweet essence, getting drunk off of you. 

Finishing cleaning your fingers he places your hand on his chest. His skin is hot and you feel his heartbeat running rampant through his wide chest. Your body shakes as you slowly run your hands down his body your breath getting labored. 

“Aw, you're shaking. You were feeling good weren't you?” he leans in closer, moving your hand down his abdomen, where you feel his perfect muscles. You trace down every crevice. Your mind is running rampant. You have never touched a man's bare chest before and now your hands are here tracing over Miguel's god-like form. Biting your lip you greedly go lower feeling the v on his narrow hips. 

“I could make you feel even better…” he purrs.

Its then that your hand is met with not the hem of his pants like you thought you would feel, but instead a line of hair. Following the trail, you feel till the hair gets thicker and Miguel's breath gets more ragged. Gasping you know you should stop but you can’t help yourself. As you go lower Miguel drinks from the champagne bottle, relishing in your blind roaming. 

Passing over the trimmed coarse hair you feel his heavy member, thick and throbbing. It feels like it goes down forever as you trace over the vein that runs down the shaft. Miguel hums as you touch him. Soft eyes intently watching as your hand reaches the end. Grasping onto his tip you swipe your thumb over his slit where pearlescent pre cum dribbles out. His hips instinctively buckle forward at your curious touches. 

“Help me Miguel~” you hate your whining but the desperation to be touched by him. 

“Anything for you” 

Then in an instant, you feel his hands roughly on you as they rip your corset and lace slip from your body. Miguel settles himself between your shivering thighs as he quickly throws away the white lace and ruined corset. Your body being bare before him now makes you moan as his hand roams over your soft flesh.

His hand traces lower and lower to your quivering sex, you think you're on fire, brain completely melted into a lust-filled fog as he mumbles things under his breath you can’t understand. 

As you arch and mumble a plea, his large fingers are slipping through your puffy folds finding your swollen clit and rubbing it slowly before flicking it with his index and middle fingers causing you to throw your head back at the delicious pressure.

As he teases your aching sex with one hand his other hand is holding what you assume to be a champagne bottle, you listen as it swishes along with his movements. Then you hear the liquid bob and suddenly his index finger prodes at your entrance making you gasp at the slow stretch.

With your mouth hanging open you feel Miguel's nose on yours then his lips are grazing your lips. Then the sparking taste of champagne is being released from his mouth into yours. You relish in the taste of the champagne as it’s laced with him. 

He repeats the action a bit sloppily the second time, the liquid drips from the corners of your mouth down your neck. 

“More?” he questions and you smile with an instant nod. Satisfied with your approval, he inserts another finger stretching you out wider as he explores your gummy insides, scissoring and curling as he explores you. 

As your head spins a white-hot rush washes over you, sending you reeling in pleasure as your cunt clenches down on Miguel's expert fingers. You're brought back down from the feeling of chilled liquid being poured over your hot body. The liquid slides down your perked breast and then rushes down your squirming body. His tongue is then tracing over the liquid as he sucks and laps at your sensitive skin. 

Wet shlicking sounds of his fingers chasing your orgasm fills the room along with his hums followed by your moans. Your breathless moaning makes you sound like a whore, but it only drives Miguel's desire further as he ruts his aching cock against the cushions of the furniture. He's needy, rubbing his cock while his plush lips latch and suck on your champagne-laced nipples. Twiling and biting the nub between his teeth before moving to the other mound. 

Losing yourself you grind your hips down harder against his hand as he continues to drink the sparkling champagne from your skin.

Finished he tosses aside the bottle, as he slowly moves his tongue lower and lower, seeking every drop on your body till he reaches your hips leaving kisses against them. 

“Spread your legs for me, that’s it my star…wider.” 

As you spread for him his fingers reach that spot within you that has your toes curling, then his lips attach to your swollen clit as his tongue feast upon you. Increasing his rhythm, your panting as your second climax rushes over you making you cry out in blind pleasure. 

Miguel smiles against your cunt as you ride your high on him. Feeling you impossibly wet as your cum rushes out of you, he quickly pulls out his fingers replacing them with his needy tongue as it curls into your hole devouring everything you have to give him. He moves your legs to drape over his shoulders as he keeps eating you out, you're lost in riding your high on him again. His large hands press down on you keeping your squirming body in place as he lifts your lower body as his tongue ravages your insides. 

Hands go from your hips to squeeze your lifted ass as he massages your flesh in his large hands. Once he's done feasting on you he lowers you down. He grinds his strained cock between your folds and you're a muttering mess of want and hiccups.

It's all so much but you can’t help but want more. Then his hand comes over and pulls away your blindfold.

At first, the light is blinding then your vision focuses on Miguel's handsome flushed face, his mouth and chin are shiny from your slick. His eyes are half-lidded as he pants at you. Reaching up you push his loose strains away from his face and he smiles tenderly down at you. 

“I want you to keep those pretty eyes on me, can you do that for me?”  you hum a yes and he leans down and places a kiss on your lips before taking his heavy cock and tapping it on your wet cunt. 

The feeling makes you jump but you keep your eyes on him as he pumps his slick-covered cock as he lines it up to your clenching cunt, begging to be filled by him. Bringing his tip to your entrance he starts to push into your tight slit with a low hiss. The stretch from his girth is at first painful but it then morphs into a skin-tingling ecstasy. You have to fight to keep your eyes open as he pushes in his length inch by inch.

The intrusion makes you moan and dig your nails into his tough skin as he rolls and pushes into you. You're clenching down on him and he's quick to bring his hand to your clit to relax you. Once you're relaxed he pushes in harder till his hips are flushed with yours. 

“That's it mi estrella, it feels good being filled doesn't it?” he quickly moves his hips slightly in and out making you mew out a cry shutting your eyes and his tip rubs your cervix as his balls give a quick slap to your ass. 

Tapping your face you open your eyes back up to see him looking at you with lust-blown eyes. “So sensitive baby, don't worry baby, you're in good hands.” 

Keeping your eyes fixed on him he smiles down at you as he starts to pull out to the tip then slamming back into you filling you up suddenly making your whole body quake. You're clamping down hard on him as he fucks you, his balls slapping your ass every time he slams back into you. He could rip you open if he wanted to, this is him being gentle and you're already hiccuping and bouncing with every thrust of his cock. 

Miguel smiles as he watches your hazy eyes keep on him as your face contours into a silent scream. The pleasure is unlike anything you have felt and you're sure nobody else could ever give you a high like this. Your chest heaves as you try to keep your breath but it's ripped from you with every deep thrust slamming your cervix leaving hot rushes to quake through your body. 

“You are so perfect, so perfect for me.” His eyes are intense and lovesick as he chases his high, he knows you're close and he's making it his mission to have you cum on him again. 

“M-mig” you stutter as his thrust gets deeper and harder as he rolls his hips into you with the perfect pace. His breath beats over your face as he keeps going furrowing his brows and he feels you clamping and getting wetter. He places his hand on your stomach and slightly pushes down making you scream. 

“I know, I know, I got you. Cum on me baby…I'm here with you I got you.” he coos at you and the coil in your stomach is completely ripped apart and you feel your brain break as you whine and clamp down hard on him. He pushes on your stomach harder and your messily cumming on him. The pleasure is unlike anything you have ever felt from your fingers and he's still going. Feeling yourself starting to burn up and your brain fogging you can’t help the tears that flow down from your eyes from the intense rapture you feel in this moment. 

Gritting his teeth, his cock is ruined from your sweet release squirting all over him, and he loves it. Your pussy is overstimulated and gripping him hard as he pounds into you in a fever. Muttering how good you feel on him he throbs as your body starts to shake again. 

Throwing your head back you feel his hot cock burning your insides as it throbs, he quickly pulls his cock out and hot spurts of thick white ropes coat your stomach as a low moan of your name leaves his lips. 

Taking a deep breath you lay there covered in sweat completely spent. Miguel gathers his bearings as he gets up from the couch to find his discarded coat fetching his handkerchief. Getting on his knees he carefully cleans his mess from your tired body. A string of apologies slips his lips as he takes care of you.

Once you're clean he places kisses on your face “Are you okay? Was it too much for your first time?” 

Your glassy eyes shift lazily to him as you give a quiet, “I’m okay, it felt amazing.” 

Miguel smiles and places a kiss on your lips. “My poor star, tired from all of the night's performances. Let's get you home to rest, hm?” 

“Oh,” you say sadly as you watch Miguel dress; he looks over at you confused and concerned that you seem upset. 

“What?”

“Well, I- I was hoping to spend more time with you…I can’t bring boys into the ballet dorms where I stay.”

Miguel's eyes soften as he chuckles slightly, finished getting dressed he grabs your long robe from its hanger and brings it to you. He reaches out for your hand and gently dresses you. 

“You're coming home with me, I told you if you want me, it won't be for one night only. I'm going to take care of you as long as you will have me” 

Finishing tying your robe tightly he smiles gently down at you, “Now let's go home.”

[adaelines]

rushed but i finished re4 and could not stop thinking about his arms afab but gender neutral reader, Leon calls you a slut & whore but with love!!!, creampie, he bends you over his desk at work lol

You never could stop staring at Leon's arms. Years of non stop training, of missions that would test even the strongest of men's wills, left him with arms you could only describe as something you could see on a Greek statue. 

The way he carried items, carried people with no issue was incredibly attractive, and knowing that he could easily manhandle you into any position that he wanted you in made you hot under the collar. 

It was hard to focus when you were anywhere near him. When you were in the same room you had to act like you weren't soaking your underwear, sneaky glances and touches that lingered a little past considered platonic.

God forbid the days that were slightly too warm, that made him roll the sleeves of his way too expensive shirt up to his elbows, you felt as if you could jump his bones on the spot. 

The unspoken attraction, the need you felt anytime you were around him is what led you to this position. What started as a simple mission brief, both of you staying late in his private office where he could tell you about what he expected in the upcoming mission, what he needed from you, ended up with you bent over his desk, one arm pinned behind your back by his harsh grip and held down against the dark wood by Leon's hand firm against the top of your spine.

His cock was hard inside you, hips pressed tightly against your ass.

"Needy little cunt is just sucking me in…" His groan was loud, raspy and full of desperation. He bucked his hips into you even more, shoving himself as deep as he could. "Y're so tight, sweet thing, you've wanted this bad, huh…"

You whined loudly against the desk, mouth slack and drool pooling on the wood underneath you. It would absolutely leave a mark on his desk, and you hoped that he'd look back on the stain and think of you right here, whenever he worked. 

"God, you're a messy little thing, aren't you?" His voice was teasing, almost deamining, and the grin on his face matched. He was looking down on you, and if his thumb wasn't gently rubbing the skin on your wrist where he was holding it tightly, you might have genuinely believed he was just using you for his own pleasure. "Would have done this ages ago if I knew you were this desperate, what a slut."

"M'not…" you tried to deny him, tried to tell him this was only for him, no one else would ever be able to make you feel this good now that you've felt his cock so deep, pressing against your cervix almost brutally. 

"You're not? Not what, sweetheart?" He mocked, hips rutting into you. "Can't even speak straight, and you're trying to tell me you're not a whore?" 

His bark would have a lot more bite if is hips weren't moving desperately against yours, hands gripping your skin tight and pulling you back into his thrusts. Leon was just as desperate, just as needy, he wanted this just as much as you did. 

"Fuck, you feel so good, unfair how good you feel, gonna get me addicted i swear." He was rambling, drowning in the pleasure of you around him. He swore, whined your name and sung your praises. 

His hips were slamming so harshly against you in quick, tight thrusts you swore you would have bruises tomorrow. It would be hard to sit down, hard to take any pressure on your behind and you did not want to explain to superiors just why it hurt to sit, not when you knew you would have Leon by your side, smug and almost cocky. 

The hand on your spine moved onyo the desk beside your head, Leon bracing himself as he fucked into you as hard as he could. The new position meant you could hear him better, hear every groan he let out, every low grunt of your name, even the quiet whines as he grew closer to his peak. 

The new position also meant you could see his arm flex as he gripped the wood so tight you were worried there would be nail marks left, the veins and muscles bulging. 

It really was unfair how attractive he was. You always loved his arms, but seeing them like this, tense from him fucking you, was a whole new light. Needing to touch him more, you brought the hand that wasn't trapped behind your back up onto the desk, Leon immediately placing his on on top and holding your hand against the desk. 

The feeling of him holding your hand so tight was grounding, and the difference in just how big his hand was in comparison to yours only adding to the heat of the situation.  

It was overwhelming. He was everywhere. Above you, inside you, you could feel him everywhere. Your entire body was hot, tense beneath him, and if you swore with just how hard he was fucking you that you would die any moment. 

When you let out a loud whine of his name, Leon only grinned in response. He loved seeing you like this, weak and at his mercy. 

"Y'gonna cum for me, pretty?" His grip tightened, strong enough to know you'll have the same nail marks as his desk, a reminder of just who fucked you like this, who destroyed you like this. "C'mon, be good for me, make me proud…"

His words immediately tipped you over the edge, entire body arching away from the wood as you came. He held you down, whispered in your ear about just how good you were being, how sweet you were, how he couldn't wait to do this again and again and again… and when he came inside you, you both let out whines loud enough that you thanked God that no one else was in the office. 

It felt so good, him panting against your back, cock plugging his cum deep inside of you. With a few weak, slow thrusts, he panted against your back, pinning you against the desk. You both knew you'd have to move soon, get cleaned up and talk about what just happened, but right now… both of you just enjoyed each other, enjoyed the soft touches and sheepish grin Leon gave you.

"So uh… can I take you to dinner?"

[zriasstuff]

part two to all because i liked a boy plssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

All because I liked a boy pt.2

Theodore Nott x reader

Beware of mistakes, this is simply what my mind produced after a long period of having no motivation. It’s relatively short, but there will be more parts.

Summary of pt.1: Theodore Nott was dating Pansy, but also seeing you in secret at the same time. After pondering and dealing with moral dilemmas, you decided to end it. But just as you were getting closer with Pansy, she finds out, and this is how it goes from then on. I recommend you read pt.1 of “All because I liked a boy” for better context.

For two weeks now you’ve been trying to crawl your way back into the semi-friendship that you and Pansy shared. All in vain. There was simply nothing that could make up for what you did. No object expensive enough and no apology genuine enough to turn things around. The last conversation in class that you had went like this…

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but-“

“Then shut up”

“Pansy what will it take for me to redeem myself, please just tell me, I truly want to make it better”

She raised her hand after you said that and loudly announced that she couldn’t focus with you next to her. Now you sat next to Daphne. It was looking hopeless.

…

“LETS GO FRESH MEAT, NO SLACKING OFF!”, yelled Angelina. It’s not like you were doing it on purpose. You were considerably good at quidditch, but playing with your friends and playing competitively for house pride were two different things. Especially with Harry Potter, one of a kind wunderkind, on your team too.

Everything was dizzying around you. The players zoomed by so fast that you couldn’t even tell apart who was who. The balls flew up down left right, one blink and you could be knocked off your broom. Quidditch had never felt this intense. You try to manage and not drag the team down, but you don’t seem to be contributing much either. It’s alright considering you were “fresh meat”, but then you remembered that Harry caught the snitch as a first year…

Although Harry was team captain, Angelina was actually taking over the leader role.

“PASS NOW!”, she yells, and you’re not sure who she’s directing it at.

You frantically turn and freeze upon seeing a quaffle flying at you at maximum speed. It was now or never. The quaffle gets closer and closer, so close that you swear it was only millimeters away from your face. Failing was unacceptable at this point. And your reflexes don’t disappoint you. You reach out and your palms get hit with the immense pressure of the ball. It was almost painful, but you had to soldier through.

You’re not sure if it was the right call, but when some guy was hinting at you to pass the quaffle to him, you don’t. Your road to scoring wasn’t particularly blocked, and you had a shot. With one hand steadily holding the quaffle, and the other gripping onto your broom for dear life, navigating you through the players, you inch closer and closer to the rings and…

“SCOREEE!!! THAT'S HOW WE DO IT FRESH MEAT!”

You let out a fucking sigh. That was exhilarating. Hopefully you’d soon go from “fresh meat” to your own name, but all within due time. Right now, being the Gryffindor team's newest chaser addition was enough to satisfy you.

“TEAM HUDDLE”, Harry commanded so you all got into a circle before leaving today's practice session. “Don’t forget, we have a match against the Slytherins in five days, so I want all of you to be in top shape. Sleep enough, eat well, and no distractions” You all nod in unison to his last words, and leave the field one by one.

Frankly it was a bit nerve wracking that you had to play in such an important match, while having just joined. You didn’t want to disappoint everyone after all. But you remind yourself that there is a good reason for which you were accepted.

Your legs and arms ache from that intense practice match, causing you to slump a little while walking. In the dressing room you are left behind, with the others leaving one by one. As you’re about to step out too, you freeze at the sight of who was standing before you.

“So I see you made the team”, Theo carefully states.

You can only gulp at his words. You weren’t sure what this was going to lead up too.

“What made you join? I mean you are really good”

What was he doing? Oh, and the reason? You can’t help but think back to a certain first conversation with someone.

“I come in peace”, he continues saying.

Something made you think that that wasn’t entirely true.

“So what do you want?”, you finally respond.

“I don’t know. I guess…”, Theo suddenly goes silent in the middle of his sentence.

“Guess what?”

“Nevermind”, he swallows. “Good luck for the upcoming match anyway”. He then slowly turns and walks away, head down as if he was terribly ashamed.

So much for no distractions. You completely forgot that Theo played too. How fun that would be.

(taglist and tysm to everyone who supported pt.1: @pumpkinchee @inky-sun @valenftcrush @l4vendereads @rorysbrainrot @helendeath)

[xythlia]

⎙ — 𝐉𝐎𝐘𝐓𝐎𝐘.𝐓𝐎𝐑

› WELCOME TO THE RED ROOM... RESERVED FOR GUESTS OF PARTICULAR TASTES

› toji x f!reader

› word count : 2k+

- ̗̀໒ warnings : sex work, on camera, choking, my spit kink shining thru again, biting, backshots, (1) ass smack, fingering, cervix fucking, reader has hair long enough to pull, squirting, rough sex, full nelson, creampie

You take a drag of your cigarette, bleary sleep deprived eyes doing their best to focus on the obnoxious flashing neon sign. WE'VE GOT A DOLL FOR EVERY TASTE. It makes you scoff as you grind the but out beneath your scuffed shoe, that's all they think of you all as, dolls. Props that just so happen to moan and squirt.

For the most part you keep your complaints to yourself, money is money. Not that this was what you ever pictured you'd land on as a career but it could always be worse.

Exhaling the last of the crisp night air from your lungs you pull open the sleek silver backdoor to Cloud Nine. The back hallways are made up of dim, twisting corridors. Some lead to the back offices, to security, but as you hook a left to brush past a tinkling bead curtain you're met with the large open dressing room you all share.

You prefer to spend as little time back here as possible, doing the bulk of your prep at your apartment before you're on for the night. You can't stand their mindless, giddy chatter. It also prevents you from getting attached to any of them, or taking on a puppy so to speak.

Before you can finish tucking your bag and coat away in the dingy locker your floor manager is waving a piece of paper in your face.

It makes your stomach flip.

"You got swapped, Angel can't do the red room and you're the only other experienced girl in tonight."

The red room was only ever offered on nights an experienced doll was on the floor, since the people reserving red rooms always have a... particular taste in mind. Newer girls wouldn't be able to handle it. As much of an annoyance as it is to be switched with so little notice, you don't mind. It can get dull shaking your ass for run of the mill patrons all night, plus the red room is where the real money is.

"One or-?" You ask vaguely.

"One guy, don't keep him waiting alright?" She says dismissively.

You grab the piece of paper, the list of what you will and strictly won't do for a red room service. It was standard fare: creampie, light sadism, degradation, ect. Since it wasn't too extreme you didn't bother filling it out, it's easier to just tell the guy.

It's not far to the private rooms, and part of you is more than a little eager to see just who reserved one of these eye wateringly expensive sessions.

Even bathed in the dim red lights you could tell he was attractive, dark hair and eyes that held something elusive even though he kept contact with your own.

"I didn't bother filling this out, nothing you requested is off limits for me." You smile as you let the paper flutter to the floor, taking the seat beside him on the plush lounge.

Out of the corner of your eye you see the blinking light on the camera, he already set it up to record. It makes you quirk a brow at him, usually even the most gutsy ones are a little camera shy.

He smirks at you. "I'll be gentle."

With the way he says it you know it's a lie.

With a grin you lay back, propping a pillow under your head and trying not to focus on that little green recording light in your peripheral. The worst part is being filmed, but that's part of the rooms appeal. These guys pay for the ability to record the entire session not just for being able to fuck someone with no holds bared, but the catch is the club also gets to upload it.

The feeling of his skin brushing against yours cracks your train of thought. His fingertips are calloused, hands rough but he doesn't have the look of a working man. As those fingertips caress a trail down your inner thighs you shiver, letting out a quiet gasp.

"Puttin' on a show?" He purrs.

You give a breathy giggle, winding your arms around his muscles back as he leans over you between your legs. "Isn't that what you paid for?"

He pushes against you, lips brushing experimentally against yours, and deepens it to something harsh and hungry when he feels you start to squirm beneath him. His touch feels like fire, scorching a path across your skin with every grope and fondle of your body. You feel a familiar sensation of dizziness, of lightheadedness; every movement is skilled and purposeful, a deliberate attempt to steal the breath from your lungs and leave you choking on your own spit.

His lips begin to make their way down your neck, sucking hard against the delicate skin and making you groan with every nip of his teeth. In a daze you help him undo the straps of your barely there top, head tipping back when his mouth finds one of your nipples. They get the same rough treatment as your throat, and he gives a particularly sharp graze of his teeth clearly just to hear you yelp.

Your hands cup your breasts, kneading them, as his mouth dips marks a path down your stomach. Caught up in your own eagerness you wiggle your hips slightly, anticipating what's coming only to feel him grip your legs and yank you down further. The suddenness makes you wince, propping on your elbows to see just what he has in mind.

The way he's looking at you, with such debauched hunger it sends butterflies off in your chest. You don't even know his name but you know this is the kind of man a red room was designed for. As he leans forward again between your legs you feel his erection press hard against you, making the fabric of your panties slide against your clit with delicious friction.

Before you can ask, beg, for more his thick fingers glide up the column of your throat and press hard against the sides. Squeezing against your carotid artery and making your mouth drop open. As soon as your lips part you see the shimmer against his bottom lip, watch in fascination as a thick clear string of spit comes down to meet your tongue.

Sucking his lip he brings his face barely an inch from yours, through the fuzz of your restricted blood supply you notice a scar on the corner of his mouth.

"I didn't pay for you to look at the fuckin' camera." His voice is low, gutteral.

The second he lets go your body is automatically sucking air into your lungs, hard and sputtering as you lift your hips up to grind against him. In one smooth movement, before you can even process it properly, he's got you flipped on your stomach and pulling your ass up and back.

Your cheek presses against the plush fabric, eyes squeezed shut feeling his fingers run over your damp panties. There's not even enough time to relish in the contact before two fingers have the fabric pulled to the side, his knuckles sliding past the ring of muscle makes you moan against the lounge seat.

Hearing the soft shuffling of clothes you know he's undressing, even while his other hand is occupied with keeping his fingers scissoring against your slick walls. The sudden emptiness of his fingers withdrawing was quickly replaced by the head of his cock sliding through your arousal, making you suck in a sharp breath.

Just from that little contact you can feel he's got girth and heft, excitement makes you dig your nails into the lounge and press your chest down against it, keeping your ass higher.

You hear him scoff and the sting of his hand coming down hard against your skin makes you cry out, but it's nothing compared to the biting pain as the swollen head pushes against your soaked hole. The stretch is agonizing, you're not sure any amount of prep would've been sufficient. You groan, bottom lip caught in your teeth as you feel the fabric against your face getting wet with the spit seeping from the corners of your mouth.

He doesn't wait for you to adjust before slamming his hips against your ass, hard enough to make your breathing hitch in your throat, and you can feel him brushing against your cervix. The pace is brutal, making your body jostle and shake with each thrust.

Slick squelching mingles with the sound of skin smacking skin to form a perverse melody that only heightens the tension building in your gut. Frantically you slide one hand down to rub you neglected, aching clit but before you can make contact he's got you pulled up by a fistful of your hair. The sting of pain makes tears prick in your waterline as blubbering moans spill from your lips.

The way your body rocks forward with every brush of his cock against your cervix, the way his girth makes your cunt feel overstuffed, it all makes your head spin. His grunts join the obscene cacophony of sounds along with your whines when he lets go of your hair to support your body with one arm while his other hand catches your jaw in a bruising grip.

You squirm, feeling the hot tracks of tears slipping down your cheeks but his hold is steadfast. If you had more presence of mind you'd swear you could feel your heartbeat not just through your entire body but in your cunt too.

As you dissolve in his hold, a crying whimpering mess, he pushes you back down face first into the lounge, holding you by the scruff as he repositions to hit deeper. Your moans fracture into gasps and hiccups as you clench down around him, finally able to rub frenzied circles around your clit and feel that compressed coil snap inside you.

The lounge becomes incredibly damp around your knees and your brain feels as if it's coated in sticky, thick honey.

You whimper pathetically as he yanks you up again, never breaking his pace, forces you to look straight into that ever blinking green light.

"Not all you can take is it?" He sneers, hooking fingers into your mouth and whatever reply you had gets lost in the garbled sounds you choke out around them.

When he suddenly pulls out you groan, body feeling exhausted and boneless on the comedown from your orgasm but he isn't done with you yet. He lays on his back, supporting you on top of him as he makes sure your pussy faces the cameras lens and slips back inside you.

Your eyes roll back as you struggle to help support your own weight. It catches you off guard when pulls you down so your back is pressed against his chest, both of your bodies slick with sweat and various other fluids. His arms loop beneath yours and his fingers lock together behind your neck, making your breaths come in wheezed yelps and your legs automatically rise up.

The muscles in your thighs are screaming from the strain and your lungs burn again, you feel yourself camping around him, walls throbbing and sucking his cock back in with every thrust.

You can't help but sob and blubber hoarsely, begging to cum again with every sharp upswing of his hips. His pace breaks up quickly the tighter you squeeze him, devolving into sloppy thrusts until you feel his cock throb inside you. Warm, sticky heat spreads inside you and you sigh brokenly in his hold.

The cameras unfeeling, fish eye lens catches the creamy white rings forming on his cock, the way his cum drips out of your sore pussy when he slides out of you with a throaty, satisfied groan.

You grin, slow and lazy up at the ceiling. Red room sessions aren't just about the money, they're the most... fulfilling.