#and its difficult to know exactly where to turn your attention

[imflyingfish]

.

[ariichive]

SOUL TIES

cw: fem. reader, yandere anaxa, he's an ass to reader's mom, don't wanna spoil too much, it's short and not proofread.

stay composed.

was the only thing anaxa was thinking as he sat in the comfort of your childhood home. he paid attention to every detail, from every crack on the wall to the dust resting along the old fireplace.

there was an eerie feeling, which he understood. he wasn't welcomed in this house, after all. that's never stopped him before, though.

anaxa snapped back into reality when the sobs of your mother became louder.

the reason he was here, supposedly, was to bring you back home.

"y-you'll bring her back? my p-poor foolish daughter!" the agony in her voice was almost enough to make anaxa smile, but he stayed resilient. "correct, i will do my best"

he let the words hang in the air, watching as your mother clutched the fabric of her dress, knuckles white with grief. it was almost poetic, how sorrow could twist a person into something unrecognizable.

anaxa, ever the one for displays of sympathy, placed a gloved hand on her shoulder.

in truth, your mother despised him. she knew the true nature of anaxa, the manipulation he never cared to hide. a sociopath, he remembers her calling him once upon a time.

a shame, really, he did try his hardest to get your family to like him. too bad they always tore you away from him.

now, he was the only one who could bring you back to them. anaxa smiled gently, his hand tightening on her shoulder, "i know i will bring her home."

your mother felt her blood run cold, her posture stiffening.

"because i know exactly where she is."

anaxa began to pace around the couch your mother was drowning her sorrows in, his gloved fingers trailing along its worn fabric.

"you see," he continued, voice as smooth as ever, "i never truly lost her. not in the way you think."

he glanced at your mother, watching the way her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths.

"but i suppose," he mused, tilting his head slightly, "it's only fair that i return what's mine. i think it is quite time we end this silly game, mother dearest."

her breath hitched at the words, a sharp inhale swallowed by the suffocating silence of the room.

anaxa took his time, his steps slow, deliberate. he wanted her to feel every second of his presence, every ounce of control slipping from her grasp.

"you always had such a talent for making things difficult," he sighed, feigning disappointment. "all those years, all that effort, and yet... here we are again."

his fingers ghosted over the dusty bookshelf, tracing forgotten memories. a home that once rejected him now had no choice but to entertain his presence.

your mother willed herself to speak, to force out anything that could shatter the smug certainty in his voice. but fear had its grip on her throat, and anaxa—oh, he relished in that.

"what... what have you done to her?" she finally rasped, barely above a whisper.

anaxa only chuckled, low and amused, as if the answer was obvious.

"she's closer than you think." anaxa paused, a genuine, longing look on his face as he placed a hand over his covered eye.

"you never understood, did you?" his voice softened, almost tender, though the malice beneath it was unmistakable. "all these years, you spent so much time trying to pull her away from me. yet, here we are."

he turned to face her again, a slow smile creeping onto his lips.

"it’s funny, really," he continued, tilting his head. "you act as if she’s lost. as if she’s waiting to be found."

your mother’s throat tightened. "please," she forced out, the word trembling.

anaxa, faking pity, let out a sigh. "she's part of me now."

he couldn't help the maniac laugh slip out as he looked at your mother's face. both hands were now placed near her shoulders on the couch, he was leaning over her like a wild beast.

"you all spent effortless time trying to keep us away. i will say it was tedious and infuriating, but now" another laugh, a smaller one, slipped out, "we're one in the same. if you ever want to be near your precious [name] again, you have no choice but to bask in my presence."

a sob ripped through your mother, "b-be quiet you heretic!"

"that's right, mother," anaxa's voice lowered into a whisper.

"i consumed her entire soul."

randomly had this idea, might make more parts of it :) i love writing for anaxa

[fruvittea]

"he's just a gryffindor"

💌﹒→﹒gryffindor!jungwon x hufflepuff!reader (harry potter au) ﹒ ﹒ ♪

— genre: fantasy, slow burn, romance

— word count: 3.1k+

— warnings? none;  reader is afab + mention of yunjin from le serrafim

— synopsis: At Hogwarts, reader, a Hufflepuff student, finds herself drawn to Jungwon, a Gryffindor, during a Care of Magical Creatures class where they’re paired to care for Nifflers. And for some reason Jungwon just stays in her life, finding her in the library or even in the dining hall. As the Yule Ball nears, Jungwon invites reader to the dance. During the night of the Yule Ball the two enjoy each other’s company as their relationship blossoms into something more.

— author's note: gosh i just love making fics with jungwon in any school setting LOL, they always turn out so cute >_< anyways enjoy !! and if you have any requests feel free to put it in my inbox :)

want to read more? check out fruvittea's enhypen masterlist: click here !!

The crisp autumn air swept through the open ground of Hogwarts, rustling the golden and scarlet leaves scattered around the stone pathways. You adjusted your scarf, tucking it tighter against the wind as you made your way to the Care of Magical Creatures paddock. Having your common room close to the kitchens made it much more difficult to get to your classes all the way across campus. And now you were running late. Today’s lesson was a joint class with Gryffindors, a combination that usually promised chaos. You weren’t sure what was worse—the rambunctious Gryffindors or the Nifflers Professor Hagrid had promised would make an appearance.

In the nick of time you reached the paddock, Hargid hadn’t rounded up the class yet. AS you fixed your uniforms you spotted the telltale messy black hair of Yang Jungwon, Gryffindor’s golden boy. He was standing near a group of his housemates, grinning widely as they laughed at something he’d said. You tried not to look too long, but it was difficult not to notice him. He had a natural charisma that seemed to draw everyone in, his laughter infections even from a distance. 

“All right, settle down, everyone,” Hagrid called, his booming voice cutting through the chatter. “We’ve got a special test today. You’ll be working in pairs to care for a Niffler. They’re cheeky little devils, so you’ll need to keep an eye on ‘em.”

You swallowed nervously. Working in pairs meant you’d be stuck with a Gryffindor for the next hour, and knowing your luck, it wouldn’t be one of the quieter ones.

“Let’s pair up then!” Hagrid announced, waving his massive hand to gesture for the students to group together. 

You stood there watching as classmates mingled and sat down together. you were unsure of who to approach, when a familiar voice piped up behind you. “Looks like we’re partners.”

Turning around you found yourself face-to-face with Jungwon. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement, and his scarf was loosely draped around his neck, the crimson and gold clashing beautifully against his warm complexion. 

“Oh. Okay,” you managed, your voice quieter than you intended. “Let’s do this, then.” 

He grinned adjusting his scarf. “Try to keep up, Hufflepuff. Nifflers aren’t exactly known for being cooperative.”

You bristled at his teasing tone but bit back a retort. Instead, you focused on the small, mischievous created that Hargid placed in your hands. the Niffler’s tiny class dug into your glove as it sniffled around, its beady eyes darting towards Jungwon’s pocket. 

“Careful,” you warned, shifting the Niffler slightly. “It’s eyeing your pocket. Did you bring anything shiny?”

Jungwon smirked. “What kind of student would I be if I did?” He pulled a golden Galleon from his pocket and held it up, hte coin catching the sunlight. The Niffler’s attention snapped to it instantly, and before you could react, it launched itself out of your hands and straight towards him. 

“Whoa!” Jungwon stumbled backwards as the Niffler clung to his robe, scrabbling at his pocket. You stifled a laugh as your reached out to help, carefully prying the creature away. 

“You’re not making this any easier,” you said, your tone laced with amusement.

“And you’re supposed to be the patient one,” he shot back, though there was no malice in his words. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying the banter. 

The next hour passed in a blur of chaos and laughter. The Niffler’s antics kept you both on your toes, darting from one shiny object to the next. At one point, it disappeared into Jungwon’s bag, emerging triumphantly with a handful of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

“I don’t even know how those got in there,” he muttered, earning a chuckle from you.

By the time Hagrid called the class to a close, you were exhausted but oddly energized. Jungwon was leaning against the paddock fence, his hair slightly disheveled and a faint flush on his cheeks. He looked at you with a crooked grin.

“Not bad, Hufflepuff. You might actually have some Gryffindor in you.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips. “And you might have a little Hufflepuff. You were surprisingly gentle with the Niffler.”

“Surprising? I’m hurt,” he teased, placing a hand over his chest dramatically. “But I’ll take the compliment.”

Professor Hagrid dismissed the class and the adventures with the Nifflers came to an end. You thought your interactions with Jungwon would come to an end but before you left the room Jungwon caught up with you. The walk back to the castle was filled with easy conversation, much to your own surprise. Jungwon had a way of making you feel comfortable, even as he teased you relentlessly. By the time you parted ways in the Great Hall, you found yourself looking forward to your next Care of Magical Creatures lesson more than you cared to admit.

The following weeks brought more unexpected encounters. Whether it was passing him in the corridors or running into him during shared classes, Jungwon seemed to pop up everywhere. And each time, he greeted you with the same teasing grin and lighthearted banter.

One particularly chilly afternoon, you found yourself in the library, poring over a book on magical creatures for an essay. The familiar scent of parchment and ink surrounded you, and you were just beginning to lose yourself in the text when a shadow fell over your table.

“Studying? On a Saturday?” Jungwon’s voice broke your concentration. 

You looked up to see him standing there, his arms crossed and a playful smirk on his face. “Some of us care about our grades,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, sliding into the seat across from you. “Looking for you, apparently. You left your scarf at the paddock yesterday.”

Your eyes widened as he pulled the yellow-and-black scarf from his bag and placed it on the table. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “So, what’s the essay on?”

Against your better judgment, you found yourself explaining the assignment. Jungwon listened attentively, occasionally interjecting with a joke or question that made you laugh despite yourself. Before long, what had started as a quiet afternoon of studying turned into a surprisingly enjoyable conversation.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm glow through the library windows, you realized you hadn’t written a single word of your essay. Jungwon seemed to notice, too, because he stood up with a sheepish grin.

“Guess I’ve distracted you enough for one day,” he said. “Good luck with the essay, Hufflepuff.”

“Thanks,” you said, watching as he walked away. For a moment, you thought he might look back, but he didn’t. As you turned back to your book, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe Gryffindors weren’t so bad. 

-

The weeks following your unexpected partnership with Jungwon passed in a haze of routine and subtle anticipation. You’d find yourself scanning the Great Hall during breakfast or lingering just a little longer in the corridors, hoping to run into him. To your surprise—and slight annoyance—he always seemed to catch you off guard, his sharp wit and easy charm leaving you flustered more often than you’d care to admit.

It was late November when the snow began to blanket the castle grounds, transforming Hogwarts into a winter wonderland. Students bundled up in their house scarves, laughter echoing through the corridors as everyone prepared for the upcoming Yule Ball. It was all anyone could talk about, and despite your best efforts, the excitement was contagious.

You were heading to the greenhouses for Herbology when you heard a familiar voice call out behind you.

​​“Hey, Hufflepuff! Wait up!”

You turned to see Jungwon jogging toward you, his Gryffindor scarf askew and his cheeks pink from the cold. His smile was as bright as ever, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

“You know I have a name, right?” you teased, though your tone lacked any real bite.

“Of course it's Y/n,” he said, falling into step beside you. “But ‘Hufflepuff’ just suits you better. So, have you picked your Yule Ball date yet?”

The question caught you off guard, and you stumbled slightly on the icy path. “What? No! I mean… I haven’t really thought about it.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Come on, the whole school’s buzzing about it. Don’t tell me you’re not the least bit curious who’s going to ask you.”

You felt your face heat up and quickly looked away. “I’m more focused on my classes, thanks. Unlike some people, I don’t have time to obsess over a dance.”

Jungwon laughed, a sound that sent a warm flutter through your chest despite the chilly air. “You know for being so into your classes I would think you were a Ravenclaw but fair enough. Although if you need a last-minute partner, you know where to find me.”

“Is that your way of asking me?” you shot back, trying to regain the upper hand in the conversation.

“Maybe,” he said with a wink. “Or maybe I just like keeping you on your toes.”

Before you could respond, he gave you a quick wave and disappeared down a side path, leaving you standing there with a mix of confusion and something you couldn’t quite place.

“What the hell.” You muttered under your breath as you continued your walk to Herbology.

-

The days leading up to the Yule Ball were a whirlwind of preparations. Your dormitory buzzed with activity as your housemates tried on dresses and robes, debating hairstyles and accessories. You’d finally picked out your own attire, a simple yet elegant dress that you hoped would keep you from standing out too much.

The night of the ball arrived faster than you expected. And there you were standing at the mirror looking at your dress as your roommate talked about her date and what they were going to do after the dance. 

“Y/n, I heard Jungwon asked you.” Yunjin, your roommate, decided to bring up.

“In a way, but I’m not going with him.” you said still looking in hte mirror trying to find any imperfections.

“Why? He’s really cute, plus I’ve seen you two talking like all the time.” You made eye contact with her through the mirror and she was smiling, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Calm down, we just met in class and he has just kept on talking to me. Anyways—do I look okay?” You turn to Yunjin with a worried look on your face. 

She comes up to you and gives you a hug. “Don’t worry Y/n. Jungwon will think you look beautiful.” She teased.

You rolled your eyes not wanting to give her the satisfaction. "He's just a Gryffindor boy, not worth my time."

“Whatever you say. But I've seen the way to you smile when you're with him. Cmon let’s go, before it gets too late,” Yunjin takes your arm and you make your way to the dance. 

The Great Hall was transformed into a magical wonderland, with twinkling fairy lights and shimmering icicles hanging from the enchanted ceiling. Students milled about in their finest attire, the air buzzing with excitement and the soft strains of music.

Yunjin had met up with her date and you were left standing near the refreshment table, sipping on a cup of warm pumpkin juice, when Jungwon appeared at your side. He looked impossibly dashing in his formal robes, the Gryffindor colors subtly incorporated into the design. His hair was neatly styled, but the familiar twinkle in his eyes remained unchanged.

“You clean up well,” he said, his tone light but his gaze warm.

“So do you,” you replied, trying not to let your nerves show. “I thought you’d be off charming the crowd.”

He shrugged, leaning casually against the table. “Maybe I’d rather be here. Besides, someone’s got to make sure you’re not hiding out all night.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m not hiding. I’m observing.”

“Observing, huh?” He held out his hand, his grin softening into something almost nervous. “Care to observe the dance floor with me?”

For a moment, you hesitated. But then, something in his expression—the mix of confidence and vulnerability—made you reach out and take his hand.

The dance floor was crowded, but Jungwon guided you with surprising ease. The moment you stepped closer, you caught the faint scent of his cologne—something clean and subtly spicy that made your head spin. As the music swelled, you found yourself relaxing, letting him lead you through the steps. His hand was warm in yours, his touch steady but slightly trembling, as if he was as nervous as you felt.

“See? Not so bad,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, a stark contrast to his usual playful tone.

You met his gaze and noticed the way his confident demeanor faltered slightly. His eyes flickered from yours to the space between you, like he couldn’t quite believe how close you were. For once, you couldn’t think of a single witty reply. Instead, you let yourself smile, feeling the moment stretch between you like a thread of magic, fragile yet unbreakable.

The steps slowed, and Jungwon’s grip on your hand tightened, as if he wasn’t ready for the song to end. When it finally did, he didn’t let go immediately. Instead, he leaned in slightly, his voice soft and uncertain as he said, “Thanks for the dance, Hufflepuff.”

“Anytime, Gryffindor,” you replied, your voice just as quiet, your heart fluttering wildly as he finally released your hand.

“You know,” Jungwon began, a hint of hesitation in his tone, “I wasn’t sure you’d say yes to that dance.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “It’s not like you gave me much of a choice.”

He chuckled softly, the sound almost self-conscious. “Fair point. But still… I’m glad you did.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you forgot how to respond. Instead, you looked at him, really looked at him, and saw something in his expression you couldn’t quite place—a mixture of nervousness and relief.

“Well,” you said finally, your voice softer now, “it was… nice. Dancing with you, I mean.”

“Nice?” he echoed, pretending to be offended, though the slight upward twitch of his lips betrayed him. “I’ll take it.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped you. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” he said with a grin, but there was a gentleness in his eyes that made your heart skip another beat.

But Jungwon didn’t stray far. Throughout the night, he stayed by your side, his usual teasing demeanor giving way to something more genuine. He made you laugh with stories of his misadventures in the Gryffindor common room, his eyes lighting up every time you smiled. The two of you shared more dances, each one more comfortable and intimate than the last, until the space between you felt almost non-existent.

As the night wore on, you found yourself wondering how you’d never noticed the way his laugh sounded like music, or how his presence made you feel like you belonged exactly where you were. Jungwon seemed equally caught up in the moment, his gaze lingering on you longer than necessary, his hand brushing yours even when there was no need.

By the end of the ball, it felt as though the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you under the enchanted ceiling, the stars above mirroring the spark between you.

Jungwon’s voice broke the comfortable silence. “You know, this has been the best Yule Ball I’ve ever been to.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “How many have you been to, exactly?”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and a little shy. “Well, it’s my first, but… it’ll be hard to top this.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, the sincerity in his tone catching you off guard. “I’m glad you had a good time,” you said softly, looking down at your feet before meeting his gaze again. “I did too.”

His smile widened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something else. Instead, he hesitated, glancing around the Great Hall. The music was softer now, the crowd thinning as couples began to drift out.

“Do you… want to go for a walk?” he asked, his voice quieter, almost nervous.

You blinked in surprise but nodded, the idea of some fresh air suddenly appealing. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Together, you slipped out of the hall, the crisp night air wrapping around you as you stepped onto the snow-dusted grounds. The moonlight reflected off the blanket of white, casting everything in a silvery glow. Jungwon walked beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets, his usual confidence replaced by a quiet thoughtfulness.

“It’s so peaceful out here,” you murmured, your breath visible in the cold.

“Yeah,” he agreed, glancing at you with a small smile. “I think I needed this.”

“From all your Gryffindor antics?” you teased lightly.

He laughed, the sound soft but genuine. “Something like that. It’s nice, though. Being here with you.”

You looked at him, your heart skipping at the earnestness in his voice. Before you could overthink it, you nudged him playfully. “Careful, Jungwon. You’re starting to sound sincere.”

“Maybe I am,” he said, his tone quiet but steady. The vulnerability in his eyes made your teasing smile falter, replaced by something softer.

The two of you stopped near a frozen fountain, the snow glimmering around you. Jungwon turned to face you fully, his expression hesitant but hopeful. “Thanks for tonight. I mean it.”

“You already said that,” you replied, though your voice lacked any real teasing.

“I know,” he said, taking a small step closer. “But I wanted to say it again.”

The space between you felt charged, the air holding a kind of anticipation you’d never felt before. Jungwon’s eyes flicked to yours, then to your lips, and back again, as though waiting for a sign.

Not thinking but acting you leaned in close to Jungwon’s face, brushing your lips against his. It was soft and tentative, but the warmth of it spread through you like fire. Jungwon froze for a moment before responding, his hand gently coming up to cup your cheek as he deepened the kiss just slightly.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, the cold air sharp against your heated skin. Jungwon’s smile was small but radiant, his eyes searching yours.

“So… does this mean I’ve secured you as my partner for the next ball too?” he asked, his playful tone returning but laced with unmistakable affection.

You laughed, shaking your head. “We’ll see, Gryffindor. We’ll see.”

✴︎🪷𓈒͏ུུ̑̑. ཉ — by @fruvittea

[yanderestarangel]

did u delete a fic? i swear i saw a tio!miguel fic earlier today

a/n: hi angel! thank you for asking, in fact there was an age restriction and I decided to delete it, I'll take advantage of your comment and repost it. ✧⁠*ᜊ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᜊ.

"TIO" MIGUEL O'HARA X FTM READER

𝐓𝐖: dark plot, toxic relationship, power play, non con, dub con, manipulation, age gap, step!incest (non-blood uncle), invasion of privacy, stalking, threat, dead dove, dark smut, latino ftm reader, femboy reader, jealousy, aggressive sex, recorded sex, dom!miguel, v!sex, blowjob, spanish nicknames, send nudes, degradation, objectification, AU, male x male, porn plot, long fic, brain rot, creampie, blackmail.

Family parties were normal for your family, getting together some close relatives and celebrating on any weekend, always with plenty of music and laughter filling your ears, was annoying at times, but you couldn't say 'no' to a tradition.

You felt the cold of the night breeze enter your skin, each hair left its place accompanied by a strange chill ── you were being watched, and you knew very well who it was... Tio Miguel.

Miguel O'Hara was a friend of your father, a mysterious and serious man, even though your family welcomed him as if he shared the same blood, he still had the same look of rigidity and seriousness ── no one knew much about his past, if he had some relationship or family before moving to your city years ago, but it was only said that he worked as a caretaker on some local farms ── which made him earn too much money for a simple caretaker, but that matter was not touched by no one in your family.

You obeyed the strict rule of calling him "Uncle" or "Tio", since when he arrived, when his eyes met yours, it was as if something awakened in his core ── a flame lost for years, now burning in his soul, and you it was the kerosene that made this fire worse.

Your attention returned to reality, seeing the tanned man go to the place where you were, sitting next to you; muscular legs crammed into the black jeans he always wore, with a weather-beaten dress shirt that had previously been white, now appeared to be a light vanilla shade, hugging the girth of his robust muscles. He had a cold, fresh can of beer in his right hand, while his left went towards his hair, arranging some loose strands that insisted on falling on his forehead, his lips formed a thin line, the corners turned down in disapproval ── The sight of you hiding from the celebration hurt him, a pang of possessiveness invaded his chest, soon remembering the things he had seen, however, before touching on the topic of rupture the words came out softly from his throat.

"What is wrong, carinõ?"

He asked softly, hand reaching out to take yours gently. His grip was firm but not unnecessarily tight, calloused skin warm against your own.

"You should be out there, dancing and laughing with your family... You seem thoughtful mi principito"

You sighed in response, quickly explaining that you weren't in a party mood, your hands went back to the cell phone that was previously in your pocket, making the Mexican's eyes narrow in response to such an act. O'Hara took a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs, then crushing the drink can in his hand and turning to you, he knew exactly what he wanted to know and he wanted the truth.

"Who was that boy, mi vida?”

He questioned, pulling you closer to his frame as the music swelled around you. His fingers traced idle patterns on your back, you felt the burn of heat on his body, the smell of expensive men's perfume and cheap alcoholic drink.

"You were speaking so intimately with him..."

His voice was a low purr, tinged with warning.

"This is our moment, just us... I dropped that phone." That was a threat, making you make a quick excuse ── after all, you knew exactly what he was talking about, you were going out with "Hobbie Brown", a friend from your college, but you didn't expect your uncle to have seen the two of you together (but it wasn't very difficult, you and the boy always clung to each other even if you didn't have anything officially. )

You moved away from Miguel's heat, before the sensation was still tolerable, but now it seemed like a violent flame and about to explode like a time bomb. Your mouth opened, speaking sweet lies, trying to mask the fact that you were going out with Hobbie ── you knew that the best way was to lie, even if it didn't do anything, you had already seen how your non-sanguine uncle acted like a crazy man when you were around people other than him. Miguel's eyebrows arched in disbelief, dark brows furrowing deeply. "Tell me, corazón, is there something you wish to confess to me?"

He asked, tilting his head curiously. His gauze lingered on your lips, as if he could taste the lie on them. "I see what happens around me, my heart."

He murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

"And I do not like it... Do not lie to me, mi angel, because the next lie I hear from your sweet lips, you'll regret it." The sound of his voice was a low rumble, like thunder on the horizon. He pulled you close again, his lips brushing your ear softly.

"You play with fire... Mi pequeño."

His voice was a whisper now, his breath warm against your skin.

"And one day, that fire will burn you."

He released you then, stepping back with a harsh exhale. His eyes were stormy, his features set in a hard line. Miguel stared at you for a moment, as if he could read your thoughts, as if he could feel your fear ── Finally, he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"If I ever hear of another man touching you like that again... I will end him." He muttered, downing a large gulp of his drink before setting the bottle down on the table. You watched him leave, the loud footsteps on the raw cement floor were enough to tell you that he was angry. The rest of the party was strange, you felt tio Miguel's eyes on you, even though the atmosphere was pleasant for the other participants in your family, everything had gotten worse after the confrontation you had with the man ── you thought about telling about your uncle's strange behavior towards your father, but you knew it wouldn't help, they would just defend Miguel and say that you were exaggerating... But you felt like you weren't.

You went to your room, while you saw the tall man's shadow in the hallway, bumping into the walls because he was too drunk to think or stand on his feet ── you saw him leaning on your door frame, while you asked calmly if he needed some help. Miguel's eyes met his, his vision slightly blurred from the alcohol he had consumed. He licked his lips, his gaze roaming your body hungrily, but he didn't act, only a sob and a sad laugh left his lips, while he showed his white canines.

"You are mi ninõ. You always have been and always will be... There is no escaping your destiny."

He babbled, his words filled with drink, but he was serious, like he had never spoken before, you could see a mix of dark emotions that burned in his brown orbits, each word, no matter how slurred it was, carried a clear truth that could not be said aloud by several taboos.

His hands reached out, gripping your arms tightly. His fingers dug into your flesh, leaving small red marks.

"Don't forget this... You would never lie to your Uncle right? I will protect you... Incluso si es de ti mismo."

He leaned closer, his breathing heavy and laced with the smell of whiskey.

"But I will also punish you if you disobey me."

He let go of you then, frowning as he looked at the marks he had left on your arms.

"Go to bed now."

He mumbled, turning away from you and stumbling towards the door.

"Sleep well, my precious boy."

His voice was filled with alcohol, spite and a twisted desire ── the latter making his gaze linger on you for a moment longer, as he staggered out, ignoring everything and everyone around him, you tried to ignore the burning in your stomach, a mixture of fear and a bittersweet heat near your stomach, you were maybe just very tired... Right? You pushed away the thoughts that consumed your mind, trying to grab the fog of sleep that you tried to achieve, you hoped for a good day... But little did you know what fateful destiny had planned.

You woke up to your parents cleaning the house, it was a hot and irritating Sunday, you woke up sweaty and to the loud sounds of rooms being dragged from one place to another ── you really didn't want to be there, so your father told you to go to your uncle Miguel's house, even though you insisted on saying the opposite, that you could handle the chaos at home and help them, but your parent just repeated the phrase and sent you to keep O'Hara company at his house.

Everything would be better than facing him again.

You wore your most comfortable and cool dress for that sultry summer day ── your breasts bounced and you felt the coolness of the wind blowing beneath your legs, reaching your thighs and panties, an adorable boy, on the way to the wolf's house.

Walking under the sun until you saw Miguel's house in a rural area and away from the common neighborhood, you called his name, soon seeing the man come completely sweaty and shirtless, still wearing the same pants from yesterday, while drying his sweat of his brow, letting you into his comfort.

"Fine."

He grumbled, he turned around, taking you home without saying another word. The tension between the two of you was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words.

As you entered the house, you noticed a slight disorder. Miguel's usually immaculate house really needed some cleaning. He gestured for you to sit on the couch.

"Your father said you were coming..." He sighed with a hand on his hips as he looked at you steadily. "That's good, now we can continue our conversation from yesterday, okay? I want the truth my boy, give me your cell phone, unlocked... After all, you have nothing to hide from me right... You and Hobbie are just good friends... Right?" His voice carried that threatening and authoritarian tone again, you stuttered but when you saw your uncle's look you swallowed hard and accepted your fate, obviously you had spicy messages on your cell phone, but what could you do? Running unfortunately wasn't an option, neither was screaming, you were trapped in a spider's web, and in the possessive man's judgmental gaze.

"Now. Give it to me. Or else you know what I'm capable of."

He repeated as you handed him the electronic device ─ and it didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for... Miguel's eyes narrowed as he flipped through the messages on his phone. His grip tightened around the device, his knuckles turning white. A mixture of anger, jealousy and hurt crossed his face as he read the explicit messages and saw the intimate photos, you were really with that boy... You were doing everything behind his back.

"How dare you show your body to that piece of shit!"

His voice was laced with bitterness and disappointment. He threw the phone onto the table, the screen cracking on impact.

"Do you think you can send nudes to some random boy and get away with it?"

He took a step towards you, his expression darkening.

"Did he make you wet? Did he make you excited?" His words came out like venom, his hand shot out, grabbing your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him. Miguel's grip on his chin tightened, his fingers digging into his flesh. His angry eyes fixed on his, his expression filled with a mixture of possessiveness and pain.

"I expected everything... Except that, I'm tired, tired of just being seen as your fucking uncle... I can give you so much more than that boy ever could. I can make you scream, make you beg for more. But you need to understand that you are mine."

His voice was filled with a desperate need, a desire that was both warm and terrifying. He pressed his body against his, his erection evident through his jeans. You tried to protest again, in vain, you just felt O'Hara's thick lips on yours, it was strong, his tongue dominating his as he held you tightly. His hand guided your trembling hand to his hard, throbbing erection, pressing it against the fabric of his pants. He let out a low growl of pleasure, the sound vibrating against your lips.

"You always make me hard on boy... So fucking hard." He continued kissing you fiercely, your free hand moving to grip his waist, his fingers digging into your flesh. He pressed your body against his again, now the bulge of his pants rubbing against your thigh. The intensity of his touch and the raw desire in his eyes made your own body respond, despite the fear and confusion, it was so wrong, but it felt right at the same time.

"Do you think you can show yourself like that to anyone? Do you think there will be no consequences?"

He pushed you back, guiding you towards the couch again ─ his hands exploring your body with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

"Strip for me, baby boy. Show me that body you dared to share with someone else. Show me what only I should see."

His voice was commanding, his eyes burning of lust and anger. He watched as you hesitantly complied, removing your clothes piece by piece, revealing your naked form to him ── your dress was discarded somewhere in the room, your breasts bounced while your nipples became hard from contact with the air, your pussy was already wet, a simple kiss had done that to you.

He looks at you with admiration... All of that was for him, a banquet of the gods, he wasn't going to leave you in punishment, no matter how angelic you were, he was going to reduce you to a dumb and beautiful mess, totally broken for him.

"Look at you... So eager to please, so desperate for my touch. Did just one kiss from does your uncle get you this wet?"

A smile played at the corners of his lips as he took hold of his cell phone, opening the camera app with a sinister glint in his eyes.

"Well, since you were so willing to show yourself to that boy, I think it's only fair that I capture this moment. Don't you agree, my precious angelito?"

He positioned himself in front of you, his cock springing free from his pants. The sight of his naked arousal feels a mix of fear and excitement coursing through you. He pulled you down to your knees, his grip firm on the back of your head.

"Suck it," he commanded "Let the world see what a slut you've become."

You hesitated for a moment, the gravity of the situation sinking in. But the thought of defying him only fueled his anger further. With a mixture of trepidation and submission, you wrapped your lips around his throbbing length, your tongue swirling around his head. He groaned, his grip tightening in his hair as he began recording your submissive act.

"You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth. Such a good boy, taking it all in."

He continued to record, capturing each salacious moment as you eagerly pleasured him. The taste of his cock and the sound of his moans filled your senses, heightening your own pleasure. Your body responded, the tingling warmth between your legs growing more intense with each passing moment.

"No one else gets to taste you like this. You're my slutty boy, and I'm going to make sure everyone knows it."

He spoke as the fat and hot tip of his member hit your throat repeatedly, making you choke and connect your nose with his groin, the lack of air making you momentarily see stars as he let you breathe again.

As Miguel reached his climax, he grunted and released a hot jet of cum into your mouth. He groaned with satisfaction, feeling the pulsing sensation as he emptied himself into your mouth. The taste of his essence filled your senses, mixed with the bitter-sweet humiliation of the situation. Once he had finished, he withdrew his dick from your mouth, his grip firm on your face. He forced you to open your mouth wide, showing your dirty tongue, coated with his cum, to the camera. The sadistic glint in his eyes only intensified as he instructed you to swallow it all.

You obediently complied, gulping down his cum, heavy tears ran down your body, while his thumb pulled your cheek to show him even more of your oral cavity.

"Look at the camera....You look like a damn porn star... A filthy, little porn star."

You barely had time to react, then the man trapped you beneath him again ─ his thighs separated yours, while he looked at your cunt milking the air with so much excitement, making him laugh mockingly and dominantly ─ without prior warning, his thick cock entered your wet pussy, stretching you to your limits and causing a mixture of pain and pleasure to surge through your body. Your legs were draped over his shoulders, granting him unrestricted access to your most intimate parts.

As he thrust into you, Miguel focused the camera on your tear-streaked face, capturing every moment of your vulnerability and submission.

You were a mess of conflicting emotions, a beautiful sight to him as he reveled in his dominance over you, The desire makes you delirious, completely erasing your sense of right and wrong ── soon you find yourself thrusting your hips onto his cock, whimpering pathetically as you moan his name.

"Mmm, you're such a buen chico para mí.. such a good and beautiful pussy... You hid it from me for so long... But you showed it so easily to that bastard... You disappoint your uncle sometimes, boy."

His hand left the camera momentarily, his fingers finding your clit, caressing it in a way that made your moans intensify, he watched your reactions closely, moaning with lips parted, as he looked directly into your teary eyes.

"See, I knew you'd love this, aren't you? Oh, sí... Mierda- Eres tan apretado chico".

Then, with the peaks of moans and pounding of flesh on flesh, his grunts grew louder and more primal as he climaxed. With one final thrust, he released his hot sperm deep inside your pulsating pussy, filling you with his essence. When he pulled out, the camera captured the evidence of your intimate connection, showing the mixture of his cum and your own juices. Your pussy clenched and milked the air, aching for more even after he finished.

"You've taken all of my cum... Un buen chico para tu tio."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction mixed with a tinge of shame as you watched your body respond to his touch.

He smiles at the video on his cell phone, while looking at you with a dangerous glare.

"Now you're going to be a good putito... After all, you don't want this to leak out to our family, do you?"

You had no choice, and maybe you didn't even want to... Miguel had broken you, as he always wanted, you were his now, only his.

© All rights reserved to @yanderestarangel on tumblr.

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (5)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, PINING, references to nonconsensual situations (very brief, nothing graphic, and not Az)

a/n: Hope this clears some stuff up ;) More to come and especially more Az to come. Thank you forever for reading and sharing your thoughts! This is getting me through the semester <3

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ✶ Part 4☼ Part 6 ♡

Series Masterlist

~~

Azriel walked you to your room. 

He knew exactly where to go, which corners to turn and which to pass, which was very convenient as you still found yourself struggling with the task. The House of Wind, as everyone so lovingly called it, was practically a maze for someone with no memory of its twists and turns. But Azriel had absolutely no trouble getting you to your room. 

Once you got to your room, however, he appeared to have many troubles. 

“You can come in,” you prompted, looking over your shoulder to find the shadowsinger with his shoes at the threshold. “I promise I just cleaned it. Or, at least I’m pretty sure I cleaned it. It’s hard to know where to put things when I only just started…” 

Your voice trailed off. Upon further inspection of the man standing just outside your door, you found that he didn’t simply look hesitant to enter. He had his hands pressed to the doorframe, his head slightly leaned into the room, and his eyes were slowly trailing along your belongings. The expression on his face read as forlorn, but his body read as tense. 

He had been here before, obviously. Of course this would be hard for him. You probably had everything in the wrong place and he had just told you about the difficult time he was having—how close the two of you had been before you lost everything. 

“Um,” you began, pressing your lips together tightly when his gaze flickered to you. “Maybe you could… or would you mind maybe telling me where my bags are? If you know. Mor gave me a surface-level tour, but she didn’t seem to know everything.” 

Azriel looked down to the ground beneath your feet. He blinked back up to meet your eyes. “Of course,” he replied, with so much practiced restraint in his tone you weren’t sure how he gritted out the words. 

When he stepped in the room, it felt as if something shifted. He walked between tables and furniture and he fit like a puzzle, his wings never brushing anything, his eyes never casting down to analyze his body in the space. He looked like he belonged—he looked like he completed the space. 

Something finally felt right. 

Nothing felt right… but this did. 

Azriel pushed open the closet doors, rifling through a cabinet you had only glanced at before. After a few silent moments, he walked out with bags in hand. His shadows hadn’t followed him. They drifted towards the bed instead, burrowing into the blankets and pillows until the plush surface became dark. 

Azriel zeroed in on them as he placed the bags by your feet, staring off at his shadows as you brought your attention back to him. This close, you were able to catch his scent—the cedar and night-kissed air you’d recognized many times in recent days. But it had been so faint before, like he had been gone for weeks and the scent still lingered, or he had been in the room but only for a brief time. Nothing like now, with his chest only inches from your face. 

“They seem to like my bed,” you laughed, just a small, breathy sound. An attempt to diffuse some of the untouched tension in the room. 

The side of Azriel’s mouth curled up. You watched it rise, silently relishing in the heat of his body as it radiated into the space between you. “I can see that.” 

He wasn’t a man of very many words—that’s something Mor had thankfully shared with you—but you wanted to fight against that. You wanted to hear the soft, low rumble of his voice. You wanted his laugh to spark in the air, to feel his words against your skin as you had just a few moments earlier. Azriel told you he didn’t hate you, that he was close to you, and suddenly the space between you felt impossible. 

You just wanted to hear his voice. 

“Have I changed things much?” you asked, heart thudding when he brought his gaze down to you. “I don’t know how much time you used to spend in here… or currently spend in here, I suppose—it’s only been a few days—but I’ve moved a few things. If you could tell.” 

Azriel took in a long breath. “Actually, you—” he shook his head with an expression you could only decipher as baffled “—you put everything back. Cassian and Feyre, they moved a few things around when you were being brought home. Things that might have… well, we just didn’t want you to be overwhelmed.” 

Overwhelmed. 

“We should have known that was a ridiculous idea. You’re too brilliant, even without the context.” 

Warmth flooded you; one compliment from Azriel and it was as if nothing mattered. You didn’t need your memories, you only needed this.

Azriel’s cheeks colored as if he felt the rush of emotions himself, his eyes bright. 

No, that wasn’t right—you needed your memories. You needed to remember each and every time he had looked like this. 

“Probably didn’t help that there were a bunch of empty spaces everywhere. If you leave nails on the wall it becomes quite obvious that something belongs there,” you quipped, a small smirk playing at your features. 

Azriel laughed. Not a full laugh, but one that you had no idea you were missing before. “I will be sure to pass on the message.” 

“Good. Cassian has many messages coming from me, it seems. Conflicting ones as well.” 

“Right, of course. I will convey to him that you missed his presence earlier, but also that he is awful at hiding things from an amnesiac.” 

“Perfect, thank you, Azriel.” 

He gazed upon you, eyes flickering to every corner of your face. 

They rested on your lips and then your eyes, trailing up until his hand followed to move the strand of hair that had wisped across your forehead. He brushed it away with delicate fingers, not a touch of hesitancy in them. Like it was natural for him, normal. 

And maybe it was. 

“I don’t know what to pack,” you whispered, trying to keep some of the lightness in the room. “Can you help? I haven’t a clue where most of my things are and you appear to be much more knowledgeable.” 

Azriel drew his hand back, his eyes closing for a few long moments. 

You wished you could delve into his mind the way Rhysand could—that you could understand some of the pain written in the tight clench of his eyelids. 

“Of course I’ll help you.” 

It began with him gathering things from the connected washroom. He entered the tiled room and opened drawers without fault or mistake, collecting perfumes you had been gravitating towards and zipping up products you hadn’t even found yet. He packed your brushes and jewelry as if he’d done this all before, as if your request for help wasn’t really a request, but an expectation. 

“Have we traveled together before?” you found yourself asking as you followed behind the shadowsinger, a bag hanging from his arm. 

Azriel smiled, turning to you with a glint in his eye. “A few times.” 

You were very close friends, then. 

Azriel led you back to the closet where he pulled a few articles of clothing from the hangers, holding each out for you to approve before he neatly folded them. You denied nothing, rather surprised by his taste and sense for whatever the weather was like in Day. 

He moved further into the closet, half of which was sparsely filled. Maybe you filtered out your clothes with the seasons. 

Or maybe something was missing. 

Azriel paused.

You watched his scarred fingers brush over the purple dress you had worn on the first day you spoke to him after waking up. He rubbed the material against the pad of his thumb once, and then twice, before closing the closet doors and taking an abrupt step back. You stepped with him. 

The shadowsinger said nothing.

“All done?” you asked. “Anything else I would need at Day?” 

His shoulders rose and fell. Some of his shadows returned to make revolutions around his body.

“Azriel?” 

“I—I’m sorry. Give me a moment.”

The shadowsinger stalked over to the bed, went to sit, but then seemed to think against it and began pacing instead. You tucked your fingers into your palm as you watched him, trying to hide the discomfort you felt as his clear unease. 

Had you done something wrong? 

Maybe you were being too familiar. This friendship between you was new and comfortable and exciting, but that was for you. 

For Azriel, there was a gap, an immense amount of pain and missing connection. 

He didn’t hate you, and that was… wonderful news, but this was also uncharted territory. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have asked for his help—shouldn’t have invited him in. 

“Azriel, I—” 

“I need to explain this to you,” Azriel began, running a hand through disheveled locks. “I need you to understand why this is so hard. I don’t want you to assume this is your fault or that this is anything other than what it is.”

You nodded, but he didn’t look up to see your confirmation. 

Azriel sighed and his wings flared slightly, returning back to his body in a quivering motion. 

“I am terrified, y/n.” 

This time, Azriel did look up to catch your gaze. 

“I am terrified because this has happened before. It’s like I’m reliving it. Like you’re reliving it but you just don’t remember.” 

Your fists unfurled as your brows met a point. “No one’s told me—“ 

“I know,” he breathed out, defeat the most prominent emotion on his beautiful face. “Last time this happened, the more we told you about the past—about certain aspects of your life—the more it hurt you, y/n. You’d… you’d scream until your lungs gave out every time we tried to share something new. It was like that for weeks.” 

The Illyrian forfeited his internal battle with the bed, dropping down into a seat on the foot of it. Unsure of your place within your own room, you simply followed him, standing in front of his bent knees, eyes prompting him to continue. 

He watched you as you moved. 

“Has anyone told you what you do for this court? Your job?” 

You shook your head. 

Azriel continued. “You work as an emissary between courts and continents, but that’s more of a cover—a more comprehensible title for those outside of our circle. It’s hard to explain, but that power Rhys mentioned? It’s—it’s as if you have this intuition. For everything. You look at things, at people, and you just… know them. You look past lies and you pick up on things that are seemingly impossible to catch.” 

Your head shook as Azriel fumbled over each of his words, confusion swirling in your gut. “That doesn't make any sense. Mor said that Rhys found me working at some boatyard by the Sidra. She said I used to help build vessels—there’s no way I have a power like that.” 

“You do,” Azriel affirmed. “Rhys only went to find you because he heard of a girl building boats from memory. You took one look at him and knew what he wanted. Rhys said he barely had to offer you the job.” 

It was a struggle not to grind your teeth together in frustration. 

You used to know everything. 

And now you knew nothing. 

Your head began to hurt, or maybe you were just noticing that it had never stopped hurting.

“You said—” you started, tone heavy with vexation. Your eyes couldn’t find a solid place to land “—you said this has happened before. What does that have to do with these powers?” 

Sensing the rise in your mood, Azriel seemed to even his own out. A balance between the two of you. You became agitated, he became calm. But you could tell he was struggling.

“Around 270 years ago, after you’d been working for the court for a few decades, Rhys sent you to Day. It was routine. You were going to gather information for a High Lord’s summit meant to take place there, but really, Rhys wanted you to scope out the area. To get insight on any plans, any secret dealings. You were meant to be gone for a few days at the most.” 

Azriel’s fists clenched atop his knees. His face remained impassive.

“You were gone for six months. Gone. No one could reach you, Helion had assumed you went home already. It was right after you and I… became friends, so I was worried for you. More than the others, but no one was without worry. We found you eventually, but you—”

Something choked. Azriel choked. His head hung down and you replayed the last few of his words in your mind—the way they tightened and then tapered off. 

This was too much. 

Conveying comfort in the only way you knew how—in the way this family tended to love—you stepped between Azriel’s legs and brought a hand to his cheek, raising his face until his glassy eyes came into view. 

“You don’t have to talk about this,” you whispered. “If it’s too hard, we can stop.” 

Azriel’s jaw quivered. His next words seemed to tumble from his mouth without warning. 

“Fuck, I miss you.” 

It was simple instinct that led to your reply. “I’m right here.” 

Something stirred within you, tugging lightly. Your heart, you deduced, beating so fast it was playing tricks on you. The shadowsinger in your hands twisted slightly, just barely so that the corner of his mouth touched your palm. Your heart tugged again.

“You didn’t remember anything, like now,” Azriel revealed, speaking just as you were about to pull away. You stopped yourself, feeling as if your touch was an encouragement to speak. “It was worse though, you were in so much pain. Any time you tried to remember anything, or even just tried to learn, it was like you were being pierced through the skull. You—you screamed so much.

“But it didn’t take us very long to figure it out. My spies in Day found the culprit and it was easy to capture him. He was weak. Strong powers, but weak in every other sense of the word. It was another Daemati—like Rhys. He became infatuated with you during your time in Day. He knocked you out, found a way to use your powers against you, to make them hurt.” 

Azriel shuddered. His mouth got closer to your hand like he was leaning into it. 

“It took a few weeks to get him to fix it. But those months, y/n—the time you were gone. You don’t remember them. I can only imagine what you went through. And when we brought you home you hurt so badly. So that's why… why us going back there is hard. Because this is all so similar and if it’s happening again I can’t…” 

“Azriel,” you softly called, sure that this was the most amount of speaking the shadowsinger had done in a while. Sure that he needed a break. A respite. “It’s not the same, is it? You know that. My head hurts, but not like that. I don’t struggle to be reminded of the past. I learn new things. There is no evil villain waiting to take me away.” 

“Y/n—” 

“It’s not the same. I might not have access to these all-encompassing powers you speak of, but I can tell you that much. I’m sorry for what you went through before—that you had to watch a member of your family go through that then and then now… but it’s different. It’s different and I’ll be okay.” 

His pond water eyes stared back at you as you attempted a reassuring smile. You felt his knees press against your thighs where you stood between them, and the pressure spurred you on. You ran your thumb along the high point of his cheek, relishing in the flutter of his lashes, gravitating towards him to relish in that closeness as well. This moment felt like yours, and something was telling you it was yours. That no one else could have this with him. 

But you didn’t have your powers, your fae abilities, so maybe that feeling was nothing but hope.

Your thudding heart lulled you into a long breath. 

“Maybe, if it would put you at ease, you could stay with me while we’re in Day? At my side, I mean. You could whisper everyone’s names into my ear so I don’t look like a fool and make sure I don’t get lost—” 

“Yes,” Azriel replied, sure and resolute with no traces of the impending tears that had made his hazel eyes a pretty pool just moments before. “I won’t leave your side once. I promise.” 

His devotion made you pause, surprise evident in the rapid blinking of your eyes. You wanted to protest, to tell him he didn’t need to promise something so taxing, but determination had set in his brow, and Azriel—your friend—wanted this. Needed this. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you, Azriel. For telling me all of this even though it was hard. For being here for me even though I know that’s hard, too. You’re a wonderful friend. I can’t wait to continue to find that out. I promise to be just as wonderful.” 

“You are already the most wonderful thing in my life.” 

Part 6 ♡

[desireangel]

Dark Cherry [2] | Aemond Targaryen

Part Two

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader and also some Aemond x some random girly pop ;o

Word Count: (I'm... sorry?) 7.1k

Warnings: smut - mdni 18+!!! UNEDITED!! infidelity, kinda angsty? second-hand smut? power struggle both in bed and out, reader is a cheeky voyeur, oral (f receiving), thigh riding, degradation, Aemond is a fucking asshole but he's sexy, talk of masturbation. as always, let me know if I have missed anything!

Author's note: Entirely unedited because here I am posting this at 2:30AM having just finished writing this bad boy even though I have to be up for work at 7:30. yay :/. Anyways, thank you all so much for the love on this series so far! I'm thinking there could potentially be some more to come. Reader ain't done with her revenge so soon. I will reblog with the taglist tomorrow! or today I guess--after I've had some sleep! I would also love to hear your thoughts!! So pls hmu in my inbox to chat abt things xoxo kisses!!!! <3

Masterlist!

Part One

Distancing yourself from Aemond was not a difficult task. You’d barely see much of him aside from the meals you shared and your occasional stroll through the gardens anyway. It still felt odd, knowing that you were avoiding him when only days ago you had been grasping at whatever crumb of his attention you could reach. 

His existence was ghostly. Always talked about but never seen and it made it remarkably easy to ignore him. You spent most days between your chambers and Helaena’s, idly passing time with embroidery and small talk. But you were distracted - your mind foggy and your usual grace and poise replaced by clumsiness and a constant flustered jumpiness.

It was always on your mind. Always. 

Your mind was a problem of its own and as soon as you lay down amongst your sheets for a night of sleep, it took you back to the memory of your name lewdly falling from Aemond’s lips. As days had passed, you could have convinced yourself it was a hallucination - an odd dream of some sort.  

And while it had become muscle memory for your hand to find your soaked sex at the midnight hour, the scene of your alluring husband in the throes of pleasure bringing you to a quick peak, the first two nights had been marred with silent tears of humiliation, hurt, betrayal–jealousy and anger. 

Maybe it was for the best that you had not seen the face of the whore in his private chambers. If you had any idea of who she was, you would have had half a mind to have sought her out and suffocated her yourself.

You had to remind yourself that if she were, in fact, a whore then you could hardly let yourself seriously consider choking a woman out for simply doing her job. 

Frustration was an understatement. No matter how hard you tried, there was nothing that you could do which would calm the mix of emotions inside you. You considered declaring Aemond’s infidelity at dinner–or even at the small feast that was held two nights ago. But it wouldn’t be enough and it was too early to show your hand. 

If you had come out and made it known to all at Court, nothing would happen. At all. 

Most husbands take on whores and mistresses. And despite the pain and hurt of it that the wives suffer, it’s simply accepted as the way things are. Men are innately animals and so they must fuck like it too. So nobody would bat an eyelid at Aemond. Instead, you knew that they’d turn it on you in one way or another. 

On the sixth day, you were surprised when Ser Tunsley knocked on your door to announce your husband’s presence. When Aemond took a seat at the small table where you usually shared your breakfast, he barely spared you more than an inquisitive look before telling your handmaid to bring your breakfasts promptly. 

Aemond leaned back, letting his legs rest comfortable but still maintained his effortlessly flawless posture. He reached for the book that lay forgotten on the side-table, holding it open with one hand and his other arm stretching over the back of the seat beside him, where you sat all tense and surprised. A barely-there frown crossed your face at the foreign gesture and you willed yourself not to think much of it.

You would have fumbled to snatch the book from his hands, if this had been a week earlier. But it wasn’t, and with a curious and conniving sense of calm, you let him read the first page of a story riddled with obscenity and romance. The first couple chapters were perfectly appropriate.

The prince looked at you with a gentle tilt of his head, unmoving aside from . “You have been withdrawn.”

Silence. You were sitting beside him, unable to meet his eye as you usually would, scoffing so softly at his words that he almost mistook it for a cough. 

Aemond, who was far more observant of you than he knew you believed him to be, found that he was bothered by it. Whether it was because of the loss of the devotion that he had always seen in your doe-eyed gaze, or the flippant shift in your attitude, he did not want to know. 

“Have I done something that has bothered you, dear wife?” His eye returned to the book and moved from one side of the page to the other as he read. 

Aemond clearly did not see you watching them on that night. The fact that you had faced no repercussions for sneaking up on him and eavesdropping on such a moment was enough confirmation of that. 

But Aemond’s presence re-ignited the red hot resentment you had for his actions and the hurt that you felt because of him. How any man could seek out the company of his wife for the first time in a week, sit beside her and pretend so shamelessly as if he cared for the repercussions of his own vile actions was beyond you. 

Nonetheless, you forced a polite smile onto your lips and turned slightly to face him better. You let his question linger in the air between you as the maid returned, placing a plate of cheeses, fruits and an assortment of breads on the table in front of you. 

Thanking her, you reached to pour yourself a cup of the sweet vanilla and rose tea that had become your favourite part of your mornings in the Keep. When you answered his question, it was purposefully less than what Aemond was seeking. 

“I have been ill, lord husband,” you murmured. When you rested against the back of the seat, you tensed at the feeling of Aemond’s arm grazing your shoulder. You had forgotten it was there. 

Your reaction to his proximity and while you had initially been shy around him–not so much since you had started your little performance–, you never flinched away from his touch. 

Aemond placed the book down beside him and hummed in thought. He reached over you, to take a piece of fresh bread for his plate and to put some fruit on your plate, his chest pressing against your shoulder and his hair brushing past your nose. 

If you had moved, just an inch, your lips would be against the milky skin of his throat. Despite your disdain for your husband, you could hear the thrum of your heartbeat in your ears and stopped yourself from dragging your fingers through his hair and tracing your lips across his jaw. 

There was an unfamiliar sense of purpose behind what he was doing. It dawned on you that he knew what he was doing. The bread was already on his plate but the son of a bitch placed the fruits piece by piece on your plate, his movements lazy. 

He smelled like lavender, leather and dragon smoke. Like an intoxicating drug that overwhelmed your mind until piety and sin were indiscernible. It was far too easy for you to see Aemond as more godly than just a mere man, to feel the need to worship him in the most sinful ways you could imagine. 

No man in any realms was as strong, as beautiful, as terrifying, as educated as the prince who breathed fire onto your skin. And he was your prince. 

A drop in your stomach was the least of your problems when the image of Aemond enjoying another woman’s passion invaded your thoughts. You wondered if his scent drove her just as mad as it made you and you had the urge to drive a knife through Aemond’s hand for you knew he’d have let her indulge in him. 

But when he looked at you, his violet eye a mask of indifference yet still failing to hide something that you couldn’t for the life of you put into words, you hated that your desire for him burned just as strong as your rage. 

Aemond’s eye met yours, humming in thought as he brought a cherry to his lips and glancing down at your own. He took a bite out of it first and then brought it to your mouth, dragging the open side across your bottom lip. The soft fruit dripped delicately onto your chin and left a stain on your perfect lips. The sight of you with reddened lips, gazing up at him with blown out pupils, shining with an uncorrupted devotion and a pure desire sent his blood rushing. 

The cherry was sweet and chilled, a stark contrast to the darkened, heated want that Aemond watched you with. And again, you had an urge to ignore everything and take what it was that you had been hoping Aemond would give you. You obediently took the cherry into your mouth, holding his gaze, chewing the flesh of the fruit and rolling the pip on your tongue. 

When you looked hard enough into Aemond’s eye, you could see the reflection of yourself morph into a reflection of the unnamed woman and you turned from him, turning away to drop the pip of the cherry onto a napkin. 

Aemond’s hand fell softly to rest on your knee and he only moved back a nudge. You refused to meet his eye but you could feel his warm breath on your cheek as he spoke, his voice slightly strained yet still calm and smooth. “I’ll send for a maester.” 

“Thank you,” you pushed the words out of your mouth and nodded towards the food. “You should eat your breakfast, my prince.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow as you rolled your eyes at him and slid back into his previous posture, sitting against the backrest of his own seat. An infuriating grin played on his lips. “Don’t worry about my breakfast. Why did you roll your eyes at me?”

You rolled your eyes again. “As if I cannot call for a maester myself.”

It crossed your mind that you could have told him right now of what you had seen. And the urge to scream at him became so strong you almost did. 

But what would come of it? Not enough. Aemond would only offer you an apology if you were lucky and carry on as if nothing was amiss. Because that is just how it is for husbands–they could cheat and lie all they please to no consequence. And you wanted him to regret the moment he chose to disrespect you. 

You wanted him to suffer for it. To feel as insulted, as embarrassed and as inferior as you have.

So he would suffer. But you had to be patient if you were to make it hurt. 

A thought crossed your mind as Aemond said something you didn’t quite hear, with that unbothered expression he had mastered years ago. 

He didn’t linger long after that. You ate your breakfast in silence, while Aemond, much to your distaste, finished the first chapter of your book. And when he finally left, he took it with him, giving you a knowing smirk as he tucked it under his arm. 

One punch. Surely, you would be entitled to that. 

Initially, the idea of seducing Jason Lannister was a gruesome one. But upon hearing of his prolonged and unbusy presence at King’s Landing, you recognised an opportunity as it presented itself to you. Simply because of pride and ego, there were few men who enjoyed the idea of his wife turning to another man for what they could not provide. 

Alas, if there was any part of Aemond that made him weak, it was his pride and his arrogance. 

And so here you were, enjoying your afternoon tea with the Lannister twin, listening to stories of his life at Casterly Rock. You made sure the house staff had known of Lannister’s presence and that the Kingsguard were well aware of the pot of tea you shared in the Courtyard. Easily within sight of where you knew Aemond was training with Ser Cole and some other men you had no interest in knowing.

For the past thirty minutes, you could feel him watching you. But when you lifted your head to look, pretending to the man across from you that you were interested in watching your husband train, Aemond would turn away. Yet he finally seemed to have finally had enough and you could see him walking over from behind Jason, his shoulders stiffer than usual with a sour expression. 

“This tea,” you covered your mouth gently, letting out the remnants of a laugh that had been pulled from you. If you were being honest, Jason Lannister was turning out to be surprisingly fun company and the smile you had expected to fake ended up being real. Not bothering to look at Aemond, who was much closer now, you held your teacup towards the Lord Lannister with a pretty, sultry smile. “It is incredible–I’ve loved it so much, t’is the only tea I will drink. Have a taste of mine, I insist.”

With a look of blatant excitement, Jason leaned into where you held the cup, fingers grazing yours as he held the cup but never took it out of your hold and took a sip. It was slightly awkward, the way his eyes held onto yours, but you brightened your smile nonetheless. 

Aemond visibly inhaled a sharp breath and cleared his throat, covering the both of you in a dark shade. The prince was looming over Lannister, who never looked away from you even as you peeled your eyes away from him with exaggerated difficulty to meet Aemond’s eye. You dropped your smile so slightly that only Aemond could notice. 

There was a tense, awkward silence that lingered. Lannister’s head tilted ever so slightly and a wave of annoyance ran through you at the cocky tilt of his head regardless of the fact that it was exactly what you needed him to do. The two men stared at each other, Aemond’s typical dark repose and Lannister’s challenging chagrin at the disruption. 

“How nice of you to join us, my prince,” you beamed. “Lord Lannister has been sharing this pot of tea with me. It’s lovely to enjoy some company for once.”

You took pleasure in the way he squared his shoulders at your remark. Lannister snickered but was quick to cover it up with a cough at Aemond’s narrowed eye. 

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” Aemond’s voice was sharp. “I happen to have some time on my hands before I take Vhagar to flight, lady wife. Perhaps you would care to join me for a stroll through the gardens?”

Aemond was behind you in a blink, tugging your chair back gently into himself and holding a hand out to help you stand. The air around you became soft lavender and leather and something very Aemond. And despite the slight flutter of your eyelids, you straightened and held strong. 

Weakness would get you nowhere. You were out here for a reason and no matter how strong the pull was, your lust to hurt him back was much stronger. 

You shook your head gently, looking at Jason who seemed to stiffen under the prince’s eye. “What kind of host would I be if I were to abandon Lord Lannister? Considering it was I who invited him to tea. We can enjoy the gardens another time, my prince.”

The fire in Aemond’s eye rivalled Vhagar’s. It gave you a sense of satisfaction that was much unlike yourself and you wondered how he’d burn with rage if you decided to take Jason to your bed. You’d lose everything you had to your name but you knew it would not be difficult to convince yourself that it’d be worth it.

Jason Lannister was no fool. He understood the wrath of the Targaryen prince but he knew that you would never be subjected to the extent of it. As much as Prince Aemond pretended he did not care, the Lords and counsellors of the Red Keep knew that he had his weaknesses. At the end of the day, Aemond would not dishonour himself by tarnishing the image of his pious, kind wife who was loved by all. 

Lannister also had his doubts about you. Again, he was no fool to fall for whatever game you were playing. An honourable, devoted Lady such as yourself would never actually be so easy to adulterate. Whatever it was, Jason was not against indulging himself in some fun here and there. 

But he did prefer to keep his limbs and so he shook his head gently and stood from his seat. 

“You have my thanks,” he took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles. A bold move from a man who could so strongly feel the Prince’s pointed glare. Jason turned and bowed his head gently towards Aemond. “But I fear I have some business to attend to, so do not stay back on my regard. It was lovely to sit with you, my Lady.”

Aemond scoffed loudly as the Lord took his leave. He waited for you to take his hand to help you out of your seat before dropping it to your waist. 

“My prince-”

“If you are so starved of company, dear wife,” he drawled, looking straight ahead with a tightened jaw as he led you in the direction of the gardens. It was a habit now, whenever Aemond had you on his arm, to walk that route. Not surprising seeing how it was the only place where you two would see each other apart from your chambers. “I would expect you to call upon me rather than some toady Lord who would certainly misjudge your intentions. I am your husband, am I not?”

The thought of keeping a list of the times he spoke as if he were faithful crossed your mind for barely a second. Aemond was infuriating. 

You offered him half of a smile and pulled him back slightly as you came to a stop. “You are. But your mind is never with me and I am well aware your time is far more precious to you than I am.”

If Aemond’s composure was not so ingrained into his existence, he may have spluttered and gawked at you. Instead, he barely frowned. 

There was little he could do about the unemotional, unkind man that he had become perceived as. Aemond understood that it was his own actions that meant people viewed him as little less than a monster. And truly, it was how he tried to be perceived. 

So why did it disturb Aemond that his own wife thought him so uncaring? He knew he had only himself to blame for it. 

“I am afraid a stroll in the gardens will have to wait,” you continued in his silence. Being alone with Aemond was not how you intended to spend the afternoon. The risk that you’d lose your composure and tell him all that you had seen of him was still high. “I am still feeling fairly unwell. It may be better for me to rest in my chambers with a book.”

Aemond knew that you were retracting into yourself, pulling away from him where you would have been at his beck and call only a week ago. He hummed. “Tomorrow then.” 

And with that, Aemond escorted you to your chambers in silence. It was hardly two hours that you had spent in the Courtyard with Lord Lannister but it had been tiring nonetheless. The peace and quiet that came with your reprieve from the man that had set your nerves into a frenzy just at the knowledge of his presence while you pressed at his patience was welcome. 

A few hours passed slowly in your own company. Dinner was brought to your room at your request. The mere thought of sitting beside your husband and putting on a display for his family exhausted you. 

The sounds of footsteps and conversation outside your door pulled your attention from the embroidery you had forced yourself to practise. Your chambers were fairly secluded compared to the rest and so it wasn’t often that anyone wandered this area. Expecting the Queen or your husband to be the source of the noise, you were hastily at the door, a sudden flush of anxiety shooting straight to your gut. 

You waited barely five seconds for Ser Tunsley to knock on your door but your impatience pushed you to step out first. There was nobody there. You could see Ser Tunsley stalking away from the direction of the private chambers. You didn’t question it, assuming he was probably stepping away for a brief break, given that his position hadn’t been replaced. 

Footsteps. Again. 

Curiously turning your head in the direction of the sound, you saw a flash of brunette hair and a dark grey dress. Fuck. 

It was impossible not to recognise her. Even as she walked away from you and clearly in the direction of Prince Aemond’s chambers, you knew who she was. 

So with one final glance back into your room you followed her, thankful that you were barefoot so that your own footsteps couldn’t be heard.  Even though your body was running hot with a mixture of heartache and rage, there was an icy stiffness that had spread from the back of your neck to your shoulders as you rounded a single corner after her and helplessly watched her enter Aemond’s chambers. 

You held back tears. She had left the door open. Again. It did little to ease the knot in your throat when you realised that while she may be good enough for Aemond with her mouth, she was not the smartest.

Unable to move, you stood planted in that one spot a few feet away for what must have been ten minutes before you heard the same shuffling and muffled voices. You could hear her more clearly this time and it took you another two minutes to build the courage to see, once again, how Aemond dishonoured you. 

If the circumstances were different, it may have been one of the sexiest sights you had ever laid your eyes upon. But it struck you in a way you couldn’t have expected and it took all of your willpower to stay standing. 

But what else had you expected?

This time, the woman was sprawled out, her head hanging off of the bed and if her eyes weren’t screwed shut in bliss then she would have been looking directly at you. Her left hand gripped the sheets and the other was tangled amongst Aemond’s silver hair, her thighs on either side of his head. 

Gods, you had never known anything like it. 

Aemond was devouring her like he had been starved of her for weeks (you knew he hadn’t), the obscene sounds of his mouth against her sex striking you with distress. He held her down as she writhed against him, a strong, clothed arm keeping her in place at her waist. 

You had hardly been watching them for thirty seconds and you didn’t even have time to consider turning around and walking away to save yourself the misery. 

Because Aemond’s eye opened and he gazed straight through his lashes, lifting his head so he was looking directly at you. A piercing violet eye accompanied by a glimmering sapphire that watched you dangerously, as if he had seen you standing there the entire time and this was all entertaining to him. 

For what may well have been the tenth time that night, you couldn’t move. You stood at the door, chest heaving and jaw slack as you felt a tightness in your throat. How could you feel so powerless in a game you managed to believe you had the upperhand in? 

Aemond still held your eyes with his own, pulling away from the whore he was toying with, and fucking smirked.  

Like things were going exactly how he had planned. 

Red. And a loud gasp and then panic and a flash of arousal and all of a sudden you were running back to your chambers, falling to your knees over your empty bathtub and dry heaving. It was all too much. 

The shock, the fear, the jealousy, the fear. 

And it dawned on you as you tried desperately to catch your breath. Ignoring your arousal–you cursed your body for reacting faster than your mind once again–panic continued to flood your veins like an ice-cold burn. 

Aemond had definitely seen you watching. But had he known all along? 

It made no sense. Did he see you that night when he moaned your name instead of that damned woman’s? 

You couldn’t even be sure how long Aemond had stared at you from his spot, his attention diverted entirely from the nameless woman, who whined and stirred incessantly at his distraction, to you. Caught like a thief in the act, wide-eyed and dazed.

Aemond knew. And he must have known the entire time. With the way he looked directly to you, as if he were waiting for you. As if Aemond knew exactly where you stood the first night. As if he had finally caught you in his trap.  

He wanted you to see. 

Aemond had already bested you at your own game with even more cleverness than you. Before you had even started to play. 

Sleep did not come easy that night. 

 

You were dressed and ready far earlier than usual the next morning. Even though you dreaded the worst - that Aemond had convened to have you punished for watching as you had, you let your scheme motivate you to take back the control you had lost. If you had ever had it in the first place. 

The dress you wore was hardly decent and it left you bare from your chest up, a wide slit running through the skirts. It was a deep green that had a shine to it and clung to your skin, making it clear that you had foregone your smallclothes for the day. 

For the sake of decency within the hallway, and because you detested the idea of either of the Cloaks at your doors seeing your attire, you donned a heavy cloak over top. It was Aemond’s; he had left it behind after breakfast once.

Aemond was still asleep when you had talked your way past the guard at his door and pushed through the doors to his chambers. You stood at the foot of his bed, tracing the place where that woman lay with your eyes. Quietly, you dropped the cloak to the floor.

It was your first time in Aemond’s private chambers. And would things have been different, you would have taken the time to observe all the things that made this space his. Instead, your eyes scanned every centimetre of every part of his chambers for any trace of that wretched woman. 

There was none. Not a single strand of hair. 

You sat at the edge of his plush bed, taking a moment to get your head straight before you stood and walked around to the side of the bed where he lay. The scent of him was overwhelming as you stood above him. 

“Well,” Aemond barely moved aside from his lips as he spoke. His eye remained shut. “Look who finally figured it out. Why are you here?”

You let out a drawn out sigh, shivering gently. “I would like to talk.”

Aemond sat up lazily and you noticed he was naked save for the sheet that covered his lap. From the way he was sitting, you stood in between his legs and his head was slightly tilted as he looked at you over the swell of your breasts. His hands found a resting place on your hips and you were hyper-aware of his touch, which felt heavier than boulders and hotter than lava. 

He looked at you as if he were ready to devour you. As if Aemond were a man starved of air and you were his only chance at breathing. 

The prince let out a hum. “Dressed like this?”

“Since you seem to prefer a whore over your own wife, I figured I would dress akin to one,” you kept your voice stern and stepped further into him so that his chin almost had to rest in the valley of your breasts if he wished to keep his gaze on yours. “If this is what it will take to have your attention.”

Not once did Aemond’s heated stare falter. “I think you are well aware of where my attention lies. What with your childish attempts at seduction.”

“I did not think you cared to take note.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Aemond said, dragging a finger up and down the side of your waist. He enjoyed the soft feel of the fabric and the way your nipples perked through the dress at his touch had him resisting a primal urge to bite. His patience had been astounding thus far but it was wearing thin. “I would have expected that kind of behaviour from a common whore, not a lady such as yourself. You are a princess, after all.”

Trying your best not to squirm under his touch, you held firm in your hardened gaze. “You seem to enjoy whores.”

“I do not.”

You scoffed. “So you have been fucking her just to spite me? Or have you fallen in love?”

“Such filthy language from such a well behaved girl,” he mused. Aemond’s cursed smirk had you holding back from both cutting him and kissing him. “I never would have guessed that my wife is so full of surprises. It seems I do not know you as well as I believed.”

“Answer my question, Aemond.”

“I never fucked her properly, since you insist–”

“As if it makes a difference whether you fucked her cunt or her mouth,” you spat. He was maddening. “You are my husband. I should be the only woman you have in your bed.”

The grip on your hips tightened almost painfully before he brought one hand up to caress your jaw. Aemond didn’t hide the longing he felt, pulling you closer and admiring every inch of your skin tenderly. “If only you had been good and asked me nicely for what you need. Instead of acting like a desperate slut every time we were in the same space. Things could have been so much easier for you, my love.”

Aemond had always spoken to you with respect. And yet here he was, speaking to you as if he already knew exactly what sent your cunt wild with need. He harshly held your chin, forcing you to look up at the roof as he straightened, pressing his nose into the crevice of your neck. The tickle of his hot breath on your skin made you gasp and you felt the velvet of his lips smirking against your throat. 

“The whole time,” you panted, bringing your hands to his shoulders and digging your nails into his skin. “You knew. It was-”

“Hm. It was for you.” Aemond let his teeth graze against the dip of your jaw. 

There was a fire alight on your skin. You could barely make sense of his words but you forced yourself to hold it together. “You are insane.”

“I was only playing the game that you started,” Aemond chuckled. “Only, I have played it far better than you. Perhaps we are lucky that you did not present more of a challenge, considering I was not above taking her on your bed instead.”

Fuck that. You despised him and loved him and lusted for him all at the same time. 

The control you had was slight to begin with but whatever little there was, it was slipping through your fingers. You threaded your fingers through Aemond’s hair–which was silkier than you had expected–and pulled him away from your neck. 

When you saw the hunger for you in his eye, the slight pink flush of his cheeks, a warm flood of invigorating energy made it’s way through your veins. You fought the urge to run your hands down his shoulders, his chest, his bicep–any part of him you could reach. 

You swallowed thickly. “You should have. I need only one more reason to cut her.”

“I shall have her hanged if that is what you wish.” 

For a moment, you thought you might scratch the smug expression off of Aemond’s face. You groaned, pursing your lips at his indifference and squeezing your thighs together at the passion in his eye. “Fuck you, Aemond.”

“I’m going to give you another chance. Ask me nicely to fuck you until all those doubts you have are replaced by the empty space I will fill your pretty little head with,” He pulled at your hips, so that there was no empty space between you, your torso flush to his chest. Aemond felt deathly tense yet strangely relaxed at the feel of you gasping against him. “And we can put an end to this contest. I do regret that I have left you, my wife, unsatisfied but I want you begging first.”

You watched him closely, challenged him with your gaze. There was no chance you would beg and let him win. The air between you was charged with energy, hissing and stinging. It became heavy and despite the way both of you were breathing so heavily, chests rising and falling dramatically, you couldn’t get enough oxygen to fill your lungs. 

The thickness in the air only became heavier as you gripped his wrists, and moved slowly so that you straddled his right thigh. Aemond fisted the thin fabric of your dress and when you lightly pressed your leg against the hardness at his crotch, you felt his steady breath against your lips which lingered above his own. The skirts of your dress rode up to your hips. 

Lavender, leather and him. 

“You want me to ask you nicely, my prince?” You purred, relishing in the way Aemond’s jaw clenched when he felt your bare cunt press against his thigh. It sends a wave of pleasure straight through your body. “You want me to beg you to tear this dress off of me? To fuck me until I can no longer think of any word other than your name? To make me yours properly? Beg you to fuck me how you should have every night since our wedding?”

Aemond’s hands were grasping at the flesh all over your body, pulling at the fabric of your pathetic excuse of a gown until it ripped. There was a weight on his chest that only grew at the sight of your perfect skin through the torn fabric, your nipples slipping into his view. 

His voice was low and guttural. “The final chance. Be good and beg.”

“If you wish for me to be good,” you whispered into his ear, moving hastily to grip the back of his neck with one hand and the other holding his chin tightly as he had held yours minutes ago. He let out a strained sound through his teeth as you shifted against his cock, pretending to get comfortable.  “You should not have indulged in that whore.”

Aemond scowled at you. And he could have thrown you off of him but his hands continued to scorch the skin on your hips.

You realised you had never been so close to Aemond as you pressed a trail of tender kisses to his jaw. You were infinitely closer to him than all the times you had held onto him while walking the gardes or while he had bedded you with feigned disinterest. And you were aching with want and desire just as he was, your wetness seeping onto Aemond’s thigh. 

It was nothing in comparison to the rage that you had pent up. With a gasp you ground down on the strong muscle of his thigh, eyes fluttering at the sensation. Holding back a moan, you rested your forehead against Aemond’s and rocked your hips against him. 

You tightened your legs, well aware that Aemond could overpower you and have you under him in seconds. He was allowing you to have your moment and you pulled your hand from his jaw only for it to stay tightly locked as his fingers dug into your hips.

There would be bruises left on your skin for weeks but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, almost groaning out loud when Aemond took control of your movements, pushing and pulling your hips so that your clit rubbed against him perfectly. “Prince Aemond Targaryen. You think you can just do as you like and that there would be no consequences. That I would come crawling back to you so easily?”

A moan slipped from your lips when Aemond shifted his leg. You knew you were getting carried away, that the power you had over him was getting to your head but fuck. It didn’t matter. 

You dropped your hand to where Aemond’s cock pressed against one of your thighs, touching him gently over the sheet that covered him. It still surprised you just how perfectly big Aemond was, thick and hard in your palm. And then you held him firmly, rocking your weeping cunt against his thigh even harder when he groaned. It sent shock after shock straight through your core.

“Did you think I would be on my knees for you so easily just like she was?” You spat, whining at the pleasure that was incomparable to the way you had been touching yourself. Aemond hissed as you slid your hand up and then back down so slowly. “After those shows you put on for me, there is not a chance.” 

Countermoves. Aemond was good at them, even when struggling to even out his breath and regain his composure. “Tell me, which part did you enjoy the most? Was it when I fucked my seed into her throat? Or when was calling your name?” 

You gripped the back of his neck so hard, pushing your soaked pussy harder onto his leg. “Do not-”

Aemond hummed, his grip tightening painfully on your hips as he moved his leg in motion against you. He smirked when you shuddered, caressing your cheek with his nose as he spoke lowly into your ear once again. “I think I know. It was last night, when I had her on my tongue and thought only of how perfect your desperate little cunt would taste instead.”

“Aemond,” you couldn’t help but moan as he rolled your hips deliciously on his thigh. He let out a small, deep laugh at the way you trembled in his hands but you could hear that he was losing himself just as much as you were. “Gods.”

“I wish to know, princess. How many times have you touched yourself since that night, wishing you were in her place?”

You sucked in a breath, rutting against Aemond violently and he only pulled you in harder when you refused to answer his questions. Another moan. “Be quiet, Aemond.”

“Hm,” Aemond nipped at your earlobe. “Do you really want me to stop talking? You know that I can feel how wet it makes your perfect cunt. Desperate little slut.”

Whining and cursing him under your breath, you let yourself really look at him. Aemond’s sapphire eye shone under the early morning light that spilled in from the windows, his eye dark with lust and his jaw clenching as he watched you fall apart on his lap. 

Hips buckling as he continued to pull you back and forth on his thigh, spreading your wetness on the soft expanse of his skin, your legs failed to hold your weight and you had clearly resigned to letting Aemond take control of your pleasure. 

You were right at the edge and just as you started to ride out your orgasm, Aemond spoke.

“If you do not beg me,” he threatened. “I shall stop.”

“Gods, no–do not sto-”

Aemond held you still in response and no matter how you writhed against his grip, you couldn’t move. He was keeping you at the tipping point, smirking at the way you were gasping for air and squirming on his lap. But he was in no calmer state himself and you could tell his resolve was about to shatter. 

“Stand up. I want you on the bed,” He demanded. And when you didn’t move, he let go of your hip to lay a stiff smack to your backside. “Now.”

“No.” 

It was almost too easy and you snatched his wrist before he could return it to your hip, moving your hips and rubbing yourself against his leg again now that he only had one hand to try and control you.   

Aemond’s leg was slick and your clit was sliding deliciously across his skin. Fingernails dug into the flesh of your hips and you could feel Aemond’s frustration as he yanked his hand out of yours. But you blindly grasped at it again, shockwaves of white hot pleasure striking you suddenly as you came undone, your forehead falling forward to rest on Aemond’s as you let out a loud, drawn out moan. 

You shook through your orgasm, holding Aemond tightly. His cock throbbed against your thigh and you almost felt bad. 

“You should understand, my prince, if you continue to bring that whore to your bed then I am not above bringing another man to mine.” You struggled to catch your breath and your legs were still trembling as you stood, stepping away to pick up the coat you had dropped to the floor. 

Aemond glowered at you, his glare strong enough to have made you crumble before him were you not so high on adrenaline. 

“You would not dare,” he all but growled. 

“Have I not surprised you enough already, Lord Husband?” 

Aemond stood, the sheet falling to the floor, entirely naked and stiff against his stomach as he watched you don his coat. The anger in his voice only served to spur you on. “You will not leave. You would not dare to leave.”

“I am a princess, after all,” you looked at him over your shoulder, lip caught between your teeth at the sight of him bare, hard and infuriated. There was disbelief written all over his expression. “You will need to work much harder than that if you want me to give in.”

There was something new in the way Aemond looked at you. As if he was impressed. Admiring you, even through his frustration. And without giving yourself the chance for second thoughts, you walked right out Aemond’s chambers with a triumphant smile. 

[kurokawaia]

❛ TOO POLITE ❜

Shinazugawa Sanemi X Fem!Reader

WC; 1.1k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; no triggers apart from sanemi being a lil mean >.<, reader is very polite and timid, she doesn't really understand the whole concept yk, she's like innocent.

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) Could you please do sanemi with s/o where he tries to degrade her and stuff but shes SO polite and just says Like 'sorry' and 'thank you' and obeys every command without question with like EXTREME politeness that its just too difficult to degrade, and its so cute😭 Im curious to see how he'd react. - ANON

m.list | demon slayer m.list

Sanemi had forever been known for his whiplash tongue and his rough character, he had no time for dribble, no use for sissies, and most definitely did not have the time for anything that even smacked of being very soft and very cutesy, very demure, LMA- sorry in the remotest way.

And that was the major reason it dumbfounded him, completely and absolutely, to have ended up with you-a person so soft, so sweet, and endlessly, impeccably polite that he often wanted to bash his head against a wall. Almost.

It had been a very long day, and all he wanted right now was to come home, maybe blow off some steam, and just bag all the tension built up. You were there waiting as he walked through the door with that same soft smile that chipped away at his gruff exterior.

"Welcome home, Sanemi," you smiled, your voice like honey. "How was your day?"

He grunted in response, not in the mood to answer that question with anything more than a noncommittal noise, and tossed his sword on the table with a clatter. He ran a hand through his unruly hair, trying to ignore how your mere presence seemed to make the knots in his shoulders loosen just a bit.

You reached for his haori, folding it carefully and setting it aside. "Dinner will be ready soon. Would you like to wash up first?"

You always were so goddamn considerate, always trying to think ahead, trying to make sure everything was just right for him. It was. maddening in a way. How the hell was it so easy to be nice, so completely put off by his roughness?

"No," he snapped, sitting heavily at the table. "Just hurry up with the damn food."

"Of course, my love. I'll bring it right away."

You didn't bat an eye at the sharpness of his tone and moved with that calm grace that always seemed to unsettle him. You readied the food, all the while Sanemi watching you sideways for something-anything-to continue acting that way.

Another command was barked out, this one more biting. "But don't scorch it. I'm not in the mood for your usual bland crap.".

"Yes, dear. I will get it soon-the way you like it," you replied quickly in your always-soft respectful tone. You didn't even pause with the job on hand and that soft smile, until you got it to the table, just about perfectly prepared.

Sanemi frowned, attempting to find fault with it, but of course, there was nothing to be found. The food was great- exactly how he liked it. Still, he would never admit that, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath as he started to eat, hoping you didn't pay attention to the slight softening of his features.

You sat down opposite him, your hands neatly folded in your lap, and watched him eat with that gentle expression that drove him crazy, for reasons he could not quite fathom. It wasn't long before his irritation began to bubble up again, this time more at himself than you.

Why couldn't he just stay angry? Why did you have to be so… so…

"Why do you put up with this?" he finally snapped, his head jerking up from his meal, to meet your calm gaze. "Why don't you ever get pissed off? Why don't you ever talk back or tell me to shut up?"

You turned your head slightly, as if genuinely considering his questions, and then you smiled. A soft, warm smile that made something in his chest twist.

"Because I love you, Sanemi. I know you're just trying to cope with everything in your own way. If being rough with me helps you, then that's okay. I just want to make things easier for you."

Sanemi blinked, taken aback by your response. How could you say that with such sincerity? How could you look at him with so much affection after everything he'd said and done?

He opened his mouth for the argument, to say something sharp and biting back, but the words just wouldn't come. Instead, he felt the anger drain out of him, replaced instead by a confusion he couldn't quite shake.

"Easier for me?" he repeated, all but disbelieving. "How the hell is letting me treat you like crap easier on me?

"Because it gets it out," you said, like it was the most painfully obvious thing in the world. "I know you're not really mad at me. You're just frustrated sometimes, and that's okay. If it means that you need to get a little rough around the edges, then I'm cool with that. I know you don't mean it."

Sanemi stared at you, utterly dumbfounded. You seemed to take the wind out of his sails and left him floating, directionless because he did not know what would or should happen next. He was used to people fighting back, to fights and resistance, and you… well, you didn't push back. You don't fight. You just… accept him. And somehow, that was more disarming than any argument could have been.

He sat there, just staring at you for a moment, his brain racing to catch hold of what feeling was moving around inside him. It was annoying and confusing and-strangely comforting all at once.

He'd wanted to say something, to tell you that you didn't have to put up with his bullshit, you could be angry, you should be angry-but the words just wouldn't come. And that was it.

Finally, he exhaled loudly and rubbed his face in his hands. "You're too damn good for me," he grumbled, smiling more for himself than for you.

It was enough for him to see you smile again. "I'm all right, Sanemi. Do what you need to do-I'm here for you. Anything.

"Damn it," he muttered, the tension in his shoulders melting completely.

He couldn't stay angry, not when you looked at him like that. Not when you made it so damn hard to be mad. He stood up, walking around the table to pull you into a rough but heartfelt embrace. "You're too damn cute for your own good, you know that?

You giggled softly, leaning your head against his chest. "Thank you, Love."

"Don't thank me," he growled, though, by now, there was little true anger left in his tone. He tugged you closer, burying his face in your hair. "You're too courteous. It's annoying."

"I'm sorry," you said, but your voice was light, nearly playful.

His eyes rolled but a smile played at the corner of his lips. "Dammit, woman. Impossible.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list| demon slayer m.list

HONEY A/NOTE :: ill be making multiple parts to this btw !! i find the troupe of grumpy/easily mad x sunshine oblivious reader, so expect more of these!! if any of you have any specific ideas that would be lovely if you could let me know :D

[7-wonders]

Wishful Drinking

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x GN!Reader

Summary: After Morpheus cruelly dismisses you, you decide that you'll get back at him by staying out of the Dreaming one night for as long as you can. What you don't anticipate is letting your feelings get the best of you and getting very drunk instead.

Or, drunk shenanigans galore!

Word Count: 3.5k

Author's Note: I don't know what this is, y'all. I haven't written anything in more than a month, and it was so tough to even write this, but I wanted to write SOMETHING. As always, hope you enjoyed, let me know your thoughts, and likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round.

ALSO! Dream logic applies here, in that you're still drunk when you reach the Dreaming.

Listen.

You know that certain coping mechanisms, like, say, going out clubbing with your friends and getting crazy drunk for the first time in a long time, aren’t exactly healthy. But things have been difficult for you lately! You’ve been struggling a lot, in both your professional and personal life. These hardships are only compounded by the fact that the one person (or person-shaped being) in your life that you thought you could count on, your Morpheus, has been too busy to have time for you.

Literally. He said those exact words to you a mere three days ago, when you had found him in his personal study (a study that he almost never used) after what felt like a day spent chasing him around the Dreaming. You meant for it to come out as teasing when you took note of the fact that you hardly saw him around lately and that it felt like he was purposefully avoiding you, but he had sighed and glared at you before saying, “I have much to do, and I am far too busy to entertain you right now.”

You glowered, but, as he said, he was too busy to see it. Fine, you thought as you turned around and stalked out of his study. Leave him to his business. 

Cut to today. When your friends asked if you wanted to go out with them, you almost said no, having gotten accustomed in the past couple of months to the routine of going to bed by nine o’clock in order to maximize time spent in your lover’s realm. But then, the more you thought about it, the more you realized that you didn’t want to just continue sitting around in the Dreaming and hoping that Morphues would come out of whatever funk he was in. After all, why should you make an effort when he won’t? You’re not about to beg for his attention.

With that in mind, you texted back that you very much wanted to go out with them and proceeded to get ready for a fun night out.

The plan was to have a couple of drinks, dance for a bit, and stay out of the Dreaming just long enough to make Morpheus sweat a bit.

But then shots had been ordered.

And your friend bought you a drink because they knew you had had a tough week.

And you bought yourself two drinks.

And a group of guys bought you another round of shots, and though you all laughed at the fact that they were not getting anything out of this, you still took them because you weren’t about to turn down free alcohol.

This leads to you and your friends stumbling out of a bar at two in the morning, holding each other up as you do. Definitely not the plan, but what’s that one quote about plans and mice and men?

“What about a mouse?” your friend asks from beside you, making you realize that you said that out loud.

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” you say.

Somehow, you make it into a Lyft (thank the gods for friends who don’t get carried away), and somehow, you make it into your home. Not without its difficulties–you dropped your keys multiple times on the walk to your front door, and there might be a you-shaped indent in the entryway wall from where you fell into it when trying to kick your shoes off. 

When you reach your bedroom, you decide that actually, the floor looks comfier than your bed does. You’re so drunk that the room feels like it’s spinning when you lay down, and you close your eyes to enjoy the ride.

“Fuck, I’m so drunk right now,” you say out loud, laughing at the sound of your slurred words.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, really. You know that you need to crawl to the bathroom to wash your face and find enough dexterity to change clothes before hopefully sobering up just enough that you can make it to the kitchen to grab painkillers and water for the inevitable killer hangover you’re going to have tomorrow. The floor is just so soft, though, and you work yourself into a trance-like state by staring up at the ceiling fan and watching it go around and around and around. On one blink, you’re staring at your ceiling.

And on the next, you’re staring at another ceiling, one that’s not really a ceiling at all, but an entire galaxy above your head.

It’s easy to get lost in the magnificent colors swirling above you (especially in your current state), and you do, until you hear someone calling your name. When you look away from the universe, you see the love of your life looking at you, though at present, he is not reciprocating the heart eyes that you are always looking at him with.

“Where have you been?” Morpheus demands.

“Morpheus, my love!” You throw your arms out and grin. “I’ve missed you.”

“Do you have any idea how worried I have been? I sent Matthew to find you hours ago when first you were late, only for him to report that he could not find you at your home.” You’re a little surprised that Matthew hadn’t managed to track you down; your little raven friend was almost scarily good at finding people/places/things.

“Aw, you’ve missed me?” It makes sense, of course; after all, you’ve missed him, so it’s only natural that he would miss you in return. Still, the sentiment makes you feel all warm and melty on the inside.

 It’s obvious to anybody who actually takes the time to know Morpheus—a tiny list of people and beings, two of whom are in the room with him right now—that he’s fighting a war between wanting to scold you and wanting to hold you and check you up and down for wounds. Morpheus crosses the room towards you, and you ready yourself for the inevitable lecture you’re about to get, about how you’re just a fragile little human and he worries every moment that you’re away from him (y’know, now that you have the clarity of a drunk person, you’re actually annoyed that this is constantly coming from the being that’s meant to be your lover).

But that’s not what happens.

Instead, you find his arms wrapped tightly around you and his face buried in your neck. He’s hugging you, not the other way around. He’s never done such a thing before, and you don’t know how to react. What you do know is that any of the residual anger you had been feeling drains out of you like water from an unstoppered bathtub. You really didn’t think that being away for—the math isn’t mathing for you currently, and you don’t actually know how long it’s been—a couple of hours would affect him this much.

“You are the one most dear to my heart,” he mutters into your ear, cognizant of the fact that you are not alone in this throne room. “Of course, I missed you.”

“Oh. When you said you were ‘too busy to entertain’ me, I just kinda assumed you wouldn’t notice I was gone.” Though you don’t mean to weaponize your words, the poison darts make contact with their target anyway, and Morpheus stiffens in your hold.

“Are you alright?” he asks instead, choosing to wait until a later time to have this particular conversation.

“Aw, dream boy” you coo, snaking a hand up to clumsily run it through his hair. “I’m okay baby, swear it! Like, absolutely, one hundred percent fine.”

Morpheus pulls away from you so that he can look you up and down to confirm that you really are okay. “You smell like a pub,” he notes. 

“How can you tell that in the Dreaming?”

He ignores your question when a realization seems to hit him. “Are you inebriated?”

“No, I’m drunk,” you correct very matter-of-factly.

“That is–” he stops, choosing instead to just shake his head.

“Oh, dear,” Lucienne mutters from behind Morpheus, reminding you of her presence in the first place.

“Lucienne! Hi! How have you been!” 

You crane around Morpheus to be able to see your favorite librarian, but you almost fall over in the process. Before you can tip too far over, Morpheus is there to right you again. When he does, he looks down at you with quite the serious expression on his perfect face.

“Who did this to you?” he asks, ready to punish whoever put you in such a state.

“Vodka. Rum, maybe?” You think back on your drinks for the evening, though it’s hard to think back that far. “Yeah, the second round of shots was definitely rum.”

“You put yourself in this state?”

“Yes?” Has Morpheus never heard of the concept of going out and getting shitfaced with your pals? “To be fair, I didn’t think that my drunkenness would…” You search for the word that you want to use, but it’s just not coming to you! “Uh, carry over?”

“Please tell me you managed to make it home safely?”

You nod. “Sure did! Pretty sure I fell asleep on the floor, though.”

Lucienne slowly begins to back up towards the door, and Morpheus stares at you for a long moment before sighing heavily.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask nervously, starting to get upset the longer the silence drags on. Did you say something that you shouldn’t have? Is there a rule you don’t know about against sleeping on floors?

Instead of answering you, Morpheus waves a hand in the air and says, “This dream is over.” 

You’re awake and once again staring up at your ceiling fan, only this time, Morpheus is also in your line of sight. It’s impossible to stop yourself from touching him when you’re sober, so it’s not at all surprising that your hands go up to caress his face now when you’re drunk.

“Hi cutie,” you greet, laughing in delight when he flushes just the slightest amount.

He grabs your hands and kisses the back of both before setting them against your chest. “Why are you sleeping on your floor?”

“Because,” is your simple, childish reply.

“That is not a good answer.”

“It’s the one you get because it’s the one I have.” You throw in a peace sign to be extra spicy, but Morpheus, unfortunately, doesn’t comprehend your 21st-century humor, and instead just segues into the next order of business.

“Might I help you up, so that we can get you properly ready for bed?”

“But I’m comfy,” you groan. Morpheus is not buying what you’re selling, unfortunately, so you sigh. “Fine.”

Morpheus holds his hands out for you to take and helps you to your feet. Too fast, apparently, because the room begins to spin and your stomach tilts dangerously, making you clap a hand over your mouth.

“Oh no. Dizzy, dizzy, dizzy,” you chant, squeezing your eyes shut and laying your head against Morpheus’s shoulder while you try to breathe through sudden nausea. You will not throw up on your super hot eldritch nightmare king boyfriend, you command yourself. Not tonight, and not ever.

“What is wrong?” Morpheus sounds panicked, and you want to reassure him, but you hold up a finger in the meantime.

When the nausea finally passes, you take a deep breath and slowly look up. “Okay, I think I’m good now.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Sometimes drinking too much combined with moving too fast makes people feel sick. It’s my fault, but I’ll be okay.”

“Are you well enough to move?”

“Yes, I promise.” 

To prove your point, you let go of his hand and start walking heel to toe as the police require during field sobriety tests (honestly, you’re a little surprised that you can actually do this right now). You can practically feel your lover's amusement behind you, but it proves to him that you are capable. Morpheus lets you walk to the bathroom on your own power, and you think the only reason he doesn’t sweep you off your feet is because he’s worried you’ll throw up if he does. He watches you intently the entire time, though. 

You sit on the lip of the bathtub, watching Morpheus move about your bathroom as though he knows where everything is; he probably does, you realize, whether it be from that endless wealth of knowledge about everyone and everything that he possesses, or just his familiarity with your home. After rummaging around for a few moments, he comes back with a washcloth and your favorite pajamas. The sight of the familiar material makes you tear up, and you sniffle loudly.

Morpheus looks up in alarm. “Are you okay?”

“You remembered my favorite pajamas,” you say, trying to not start crying. You can count on one hand the number of times he’s come directly to see you off to his realm, and you’ve probably worn those pajamas twice. Yet he remembered the one-off comment you had made about how they were your favorite because of course he did.

His face softens. “Of course I did.”

You clear your throat and wipe your eyes. “Sorry. I’m okay! Just drunk.”

Morpheus hands you said pajamas before turning the faucet on and letting the water run. He seems to realize something after a moment and looks at you helplessly. “I do not feel temperature as you do. Is the water alright?” 

You grin and stick your hand under the faucet, moving the tap just a smidge hotter before nodding at him. “It’s good now. Thank you for asking.”

He begins to run the damp washcloth gently over your face, a barely-there smile appearing on his own when you wrinkle your nose at the cool sensations. Where this situation would be awkward with anybody else, it feels entirely natural with Morpheus. You’ll take these little moments of domesticity with him whenever you can get them, even when you’re still half drunk.

Even if you wanted to, you can’t hold yourself back from saying, “You’re so beautiful, do you know that? Seriously, you’re the prettiest man-slash-anthropomorphic-personification I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” The words are heavy on your tongue, but you’re pretty proud of the way you only barely stumble through ‘anthropomorphic’.

“You are still under the influence,” he notes.

“So? Drunk words equal sober thoughts, right?”

“‘A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.’ Jean-Jacques Rosseau,” he supplies.

“Sure, that. I’d tell you how pretty you are even if I was sober, and you know that.”

“Perhaps.” He says it in that infuriatingly sexy way of his, the one that makes you want to tear his clothes off.

Instead, you’re the one taking your own clothes off, though not for any fun reason. Getting changed is not as difficult a task as it would have been when you first arrived home, with the benefit of time naturally sobering one up on your side. Morpheus still keeps a hand held out, just in case you lose your balance and need something to grab onto, but after you’ve finished changing, that hand slips under your shirt and caresses your side.

“Thought you were supposed to be helping me keep my clothes on,” you say with a shiver, grabbing his wrist and pulling the offending extremity out from under your shirt.

“Apologies.” His tone implies that he’s not sorry at all, not that you would want him to be. “I simply couldn’t resist.”

He looks down at you with so much love in those blue eyes of his that you feel like you don’t think your mortal mind could ever truly comprehend it. Nobody has ever loved you the way that Morpheus has—all-consuming and passionate. He told you once that many of his relationships had ended because he had been seen as too intense, too obsessive in his love. Bring it on, you had told him when he expected you to back down. To date, you haven’t regretted that.

You don’t think you ever will.

Now that you can see the end of your night in sight, tiredness begins to seep into your bones. Though your bed is just right through the bathroom door, it feels miles away. With that in mind, you ask,  “Will you carry me?” 

“Were you not worried that you would feel sick?”

“Yeah, but I’m tired.” You pout (on purpose because you know what it does to him), and you can practically see his resolve break. “Just be careful?”

“Always,” he promises.

And careful he is, slowly picking you up and waiting until you nod to carry you to your bed. He sets you down gently, You’re thrilled to see a glass of water already waiting for you on your bedside table, Morpheus anticipating your needs before you’ve even realized you have them in the first place.

Crawling under the covers after finishing your water, you motion for Morpheus to sit next to you on the bed. He does as you ask, and you move your pillows so that you can sit up and lean on him. When you’re comfortable, you say, “Thank you for everything tonight. I know taking care of me wasn’t what you had planned.”

“You need not thank me. I enjoy caring for you, no matter the situation.” 

Your eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his hand carding through your hair, and you start to feel yourself inching closer to the Dreaming. Something keeps you from truly falling asleep, though, and when Morpheus shifts next to you, you realize what it is: the conversation’s not over. Morpheus is trying to figure out how to say what it is he wants to say.

Finally, he figures it out. “Might I ask you something?”

You open your eyes to give him your full attention and nod.

“Earlier, when you seemed surprised that I had noticed your absence. Did you do this,” ‘this’ being getting very drunk, “because of what I said?”

“No. I mean, I went out because I was mad at you, and I figured that me being a couple of hours late would make you learn your lesson, but I got drunk because I wanted to have fun with my friends and let loose.”

“And did you?”

“Maybe a little too much,” you admit cheekily.

“I apologize for my harsh words the other day. I have been…feeling burdened under the weight of my realm, and I took it out on you for no reason.”

“It’s okay, Morpheus. You’re busy running an entire realm and overseeing the collective unconscious. I shouldn’t be so needy.”

He shakes his head. “It is not okay. I should never talk to you in such a way, and you should never feel as though I do not want you around. I do want you around, always.”

“People say things that they don’t mean. That doesn’t mean they’re not worthy of forgiveness. But you gotta talk to me, okay? When you’re feeling stressed, or when things get to be too much. I’m here for you, and I want to support you however I can.”

“I love you,” he says. The fact that he’s being so open with his emotions is a pleasant surprise; it took him so long to be the first to say it, and even longer to be comfortable with it. You smile up at him.

“I love you, too. Stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.”

Morpheus turns your bedroom light off without you needing to ask (seriously, you love him so much), and you close your eyes. Then, a thought hits you.

“Hey,” you say, staring up at him in the dark and waiting until he looks at you to continue. “Can you get drunk?”

“No.”

“Why not? I mean, isn’t there special alcohol for preternatural beings? You’d think gods and goddesses would’ve figured out a way to get turnt by now.”

Though he doesn’t want to give in to your rambling when you’re meant to be trying to fall asleep, he can’t help but indulge you. “Gods and goddesses can. We, the Endless, cannot.”

“What? That’s so fucking lame. No. That’s–that’s an injustice! I’m so sorry.

“I promise, it is okay. Now, please go to sleep.”

You nod, but close your eyes for maybe thirty seconds before they snap open again with a realization. “Wait.”

“What?”

“You mentioned other gods and goddesses. How many are there? Are they all real? Is actual God real? I mean, I know the devil is real, you kicked their ass for your helm, but for some reason that’s more believable than–”

“Go. To. Sleep,” Morpheus commands.

“Ugh, you’re no fun!”

“I am not afraid to use my sand if need be.”

“You wouldn’t.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and he raises one right back. After a brief stalemate, you’re the first to give in. “You have to understand how world-altering this information is to a regular human like me, I mean–”

You’re asleep before your head hits the pillow.

[ghouldtime]

Celebrating Halloween with the TF141 Men

Happy Halloween!!! 🎃👻 My absolute FAVORITE holiday so you know I had to do this because SPOOKY TIME HELL YEAH

Captain John Price

He's never really been one for it or most holidays. He's usually far too busy to celebrate them and days fly by without him realizing. They're usually something that sneak up on him, seeing as he is preoccupied most of the time and the last thing he's worried about is partying or doing something special

He only really notices it because Halloween has mainly been his busy holiday, especially for more messy missions or times when he needs Intel. In countries that celebrate it, it makes for an extremely easy get away and is a great opportunity to be less covert and more direct. Man covered in blood? Which? Everyone is, it's Halloween. People can look at a corpse and wouldn't even question it, they'll just think it's really good special effects. The screaming? Oh don't mind that, just a soundtrack :)

He's not one who exactly celebrates it in a traditional way. He never really had the time for that - for sitting down and handing out candy or dressing up. That's too much time out of his day and he usually doesn't have that luxury - nor does he feel its sensible. He's far more on the side of tricks over treating, or going to Halloween events instead of participating individually

On Halloween, it's pretty much a guarantee he's going to pull something or do a relatively harmless prank. He's got quite the sense of humor underneath his stern facade. It's usually something harmless like "Did you see the leek in the bathroom?" And as you investigate, it's a literal leek (the vegetable) and he's holding back laughter

If you try to one-up him, he'll just come back stronger next year. You'll be playing a dangerous game but it should always be expected. His team learned that the hard way. It doesn't help he can get others in on it

That doesn't mean the day is without treats. If it matters to you, he'll happily take you to a party or any Halloween themed event that you want to go to - his only thing is that he won't host those, too much clean up and headaches as far as he's concerned

He'll only dress up if you pick out the outfit. It's nothing personal, it's just not something he's particularly interested in, but he will happily oblige. He usually thinks most costumes are a bit ridiculous but what's the harm of getting in the spirit? Besides, it's very much worth it to see you smile

It's hard to get him to slow down and enjoy things like holidays, but with you by his side it feels a lot more natural. He's a stubborn man stuck in his routine of all work, little play, sometimes he needs someone to boot him out of it and get him to live a little. It's difficult yet he'll always make it worth it

No matter what you decide to do or where you go, he'll be holding your hand, keeping you close to him. His attention will always fall right back on you throughout the night, no matter what else is going on. Whether it's watching a scary movie or hanging out at a bar hosting a costume party, he'll always be turning to you

Having someone like you by his side is really what he needed to remind himself that he is human too and anchors him onto the humanity he can scarcely find some days. It's easy to forget the smaller things in life unless you have that within your reach. When his day is all weight-of-the-world stakes, he sometimes loses the smaller picture. Seeing your smile is a reminder of what and who he is fighting for, and why he must keep doing it

He'll be holding you a bit closer, his gaze lingering more so than usual, and the lines around his eyes will be that much softer as he steals yet another glance at you. Halloween might be a night of frights but the scariest thing in that moment would be spending another minute without you :)

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley

It would honestly be weirder if he didn't like Halloween. He's dressed like a damn skeleton year round and you can't tell me he doesn't play into the bit (it would be absolutely hilarious though if he just dressed like a regular guy on Halloween. That's a real scare amirite)

He actually wasn't a fan of it growing up, mainly due to the association with all the frightening outfits and his brother Tommy taking the opportunity to up the ante on scaring the living daylights out of him. But now that he's reclaimed the mask and his brother has long been gone, it's a bitter sweet thing and one of the few things that actually help him remember his brother in the best way (seeing as they repaired their relationship when they were older)

Except the difference is Halloween is meant for plain ol' good scary fun. The kind where people can opt in if they want to participate. He's not looking to create traumatic experiences or give someone a bad association, he would rather not pass his own childhood on in that way

That being said, Ghost isn't one to go out and actively wander around or party. He's still his usual introverted self. No holiday will ever change that for him

He still decorates for it, he's having fun with it because it ties right into his aesthetic. Spookiness is literally in his name. He will mainly decorate with skeletons and skeletal animals doing goofy things - it's different each year. The cowboy skeletons were a hit, as was the undead petting zoo, full of those anatomically incorrect skeletons

Yes, all the skeletons DO have names. And yes, they're all puns - he finds them humerus ;)

His ideal Halloween is more of a classic night in. He will still dress up to hand out candy, but also he is spending most of it by your side for a slasher movie marathon. Spending time with those he values on arguably his favorite holiday is his preferred way to celebrate

And yes, he usually will dress to match the part. Most years his costumes are reflective of said slashers or notorious movie killers. He has the right build and stature to make for an utterly killer Jason, Mike Myers, Ghostface - you name it, he probably has a costume for it

He personally loves old slashers because of how bad most of them are, they have a sort of nostalgia to them that he likes. If you're not able to watch those or are too squeamish, he will happily put on other genres of Halloween movies

Anything stop motion is usually fair game! But if you'd rather watch a TV show instead, he won't contest. The Twilight Zone is a classic series OR you can even watch those Halloween baking shows

He will get ridiculously invested in them if you do. Prepare to watch the entire season that night if you make that choice, and he WILL have commentary (Lemon curd? Really? Everyone knows raspberry pairs better with it and it's Halloween themed. Why aren't you making it bloody??)

Usually he isn't much of a candy eater, but he naturally has a fair Halloween stock so feel free to swipe some if you're feeling up for it. He's more of a baked sweets kind of guy, which he has absolutely made SURE to stockpile with other snacks and drinks for your movie marathon. Naturally he makes sure to have your favorites there too, that goes without saying

You won't have to get up to answer the door if you don't want to, he will happily do it. He is, however, never going to be the person to just leave the bowl outside. Halloween being his favorite holiday means he IS participating to some degree. It brings him happy memories. He usually isn't gone for too long, though. After all, he can't miss his favorite scenes (or his favorite person for too long )

Expect to spend most of the night bundled under a fluffy skeletal patterned fleece with all the movies (or shows) you pick all that much more interesting with his commentary, his arm around you. He won't mind if you fall asleep like that or hide into him if it gets scary - don't worry, he's the only ghost you'll have to worry about

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

If you want someone to have fun with and truly celebrate, he is absolutely your guy. He loves Halloween, mainly because it's a great community holiday and is one of the few that's not centered on familial stuff or love alone

Not to mention, he has good memories of Halloween growing up. He remembers being a kid once, wanting to dress up and be his favorite super heroes and the fun that came with it. He wants to be one of those people who absolutely made kids' nights with a generous bounty of candy, the same way that others did for him

He prefers decorating with a more retro vibe. Modern decorations just don't cut it for him and he feels they don't have the same magic. Call him particular but he finds far more charm in the older decor than the new cheap stuff. Anyone can get the newest trendy thing but that display? All vintage (he's got great taste)

He is ALSO the one who has the king size candy bars and the GOOD stuff. He's also considerate - he accounts for kids with peanut allergies and has a trinket bowl they can pick something from if they can't have candy or just want something a bit different!

He absolutely lives for seeing all of the costumes and the creativity that goes into them. He's already looked up the hottest outfits and media so he can know just how to compliment them to make them smile.

He's 110% enlisting your help to pass out the candy and to keep things going. He needs someone to keep him company through the chillier part of the night and someone to talk to, not to mention - he needs a distraction

It's trick or treating - what would it be without a bit of a trick? Granted, he waits til the later part of the night when the older kids are roaming and darkness has fallen. He loves laying in wait in a ghillie suit. No one sees him until it's too late and he's popping up, scaring the living daylights out of them

He's in his element there. Stealth, using his great sense of humor, and having fun? Yeah, he's having a great time. And he'll make sure you are too. You're welcome to join him in his endeavors. He's got a second suit somewhere - you can both surprise those who try and swipe a whole candy bowl they think was left unattended

Needless to say, they learn their lesson fast. It takes everything in him to hold it together and keep a stern face as they slink off. The second they round the corner, he's cracking up. Works every single time - and he changes locations and tactics each year, good luck

He's got enough candy to go around and in the quiet moments, help yourself, he'll enjoy some right by your side too. Have to keep fueled up for the night ahead. He'll make sure you're staying warm (or cool, if the climate happens to be miserable this time of year) and will be happily tell you scary stories if you feel so inclined to listen. He has plenty in store that he learned from when his siblings were little - and ones his older brother told him too

There's many things that can haunt you in this world, and before the night is up you'll be adding his laugh or the warmth of his hands adjusting your costume, letting his touch linger for a bit longer than normal - in the best way, of course ;)

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish

Contrary to popular belief, holidays or celebrating them aren't particularly his thing. Like Price, he's usually quite work focused and can be a bit too absorbed in it for his own good. He didn't become the youngest member of TF141 for nothing, this man has dedication

He's still very much learning the balance between work life and personal, it's a thin line he tends to forget about because of how driven he is. Usually all he needs is someone to instigate, maybe distract, and get the ball rolling. He'll be all for it after a nudge in the right way

Like anything he does though, when he commits he COMMITS. He's going all out. He's particularly fond of the artistic aspect of most costumes and having fun with it. It's the one time of year you can wear nearly whatever you want and no one will (particularly) judge you for it

If you want to do a couples costume or duo's costume, he's your man. He's pulling out all the stops for it. He's actually got a decent eye for the arts and he CAN sew. It's a practical skill and it's made him plenty of friends (especially with those who are a bit too big for their uniforms, or who are accident prone and seem to wear holes into their gear like it's their job)

Just say the word or idea and he'll be right on it, looking into inspiration and doing what he can to put it together. He'll even do the SFX makeup if you want (he's seen enough gore that he'll be able to get it right, trust him on that)

If you go to any event, you'll probably win the costume contest. He's putting in all the details he can. Or he can keep it low-key, if you'd rather not have the attention and just want to have fun. Either way, he'll be matching your energy and vibe

He's not really going to want to spend the night passing out candy alone. Sure, you can do some of that - but it only comes once a year. Why not take advantage of the spookiness and the ambiance of the holiday? He'll be the one who would rather attend things like haunted houses, even if they are ineffective against him - he'll spot most scares from a mile away. At least it's fun to see them try, most times he'll just stand and stare or even laugh if they try really hard. Luckily, it means he'll protect you

Another option is ghost hunting, and he doesn't just mean chasing after ghost. He's all for ghost tours or going to abandoned places to see what all the fuss is about. Don't worry, he can keep you safe. He knows how ghosts work, after all, he works WITH one. It might be eerie but it'll be a Halloween you won't forget

If you really, really don't want to go - he'll settle for one of those fright nights that they have at some amusement parks or other local places where you can opt out of the scares. As long as he gets to do something with you and have fun while the night lasts, he'll be happy to do it

The night will likely end with you both nearly passed out on the couch, costumes half thrown off as you sprawl over each other, with some B-grade cheesy horror movie running in the background. Though you're both so tired after all you did so it doesn't really matter what's on or what monster or ghost they're talking about. After the night you've had, you're the only boo he cares about

BONUS

König

For some context, he never grew up WITH Halloween. As in, it wasn't really celebrated or much of a thing in his hometown, aside from maybe a few gimmicky commercial things. With him being so far away from others and growing up in a rural community, it wasn't ever really a choice. His parents certainly weren't participating nor would he

He was made aware of it in school but it never particularly appealed to him or was an idea that crossed his mind. He simply shrugged it off most years or downright ignored it. He didn't see why it would be something he would celebrate or participate in himself - interacting with strangers and loud children to give them candy? No thank you. That was until you came around.

Truth be told, he didn't really exactly see the appeal of Halloween. He's surrounded by death, skeletons, and gloom all day - why would he want more of that? Plus, children these days have too much candy, all that processed crap can't be good for them. He's someone who has to be convinced and have it shown from a different point of view. Such as the aspect of being able to be whatever you want to be for a night and not having others judge you for it, but rather encouraging it

Now THAT appeals to him. Despite the fact he's got his social anxiety under control in an iron clad grasp, the trauma of his childhood and being targeted for being different - for simply being himself still have lingering effects to this day. The idea of potentially being accept for just being himself is still something he struggles with and is part of why he's so closed off. Having an entire holiday where people can be who they want, dress up like who they want to be, and have fun with it is greatly appealing

He'll take some time to get used to it but you'll have to get him out there for him to truly feel the spirit(s) of it. He's someone who needs some push when it comes to social things or holiday events to get out of his comfort zone. Just get him to wear a mask (easy, seeing as he does that all day when he's at work), throw on a jacket, and take him out by the hand and show him the wonderful things of it and he WILL warm up

Seeing all the kids having actually happy childhood moments, laughing and running with their peers in ways he could have only dreamed of when he was their age, softens something inside of him

And it only works more when they don't look at him in fear or cower but rather in awe, because he's a big guy - he knows it. And in a costume of any kind, he blends right in and is JUST who kids want to see on Halloween

The blow that finally struck through right to his heart was when you took him by the hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as you walked with him down the street to take a look at all the decorated houses as trick or treaters ran about. The warmth he felt wasn't just from you being tucked against his side, but rather deep within as you smiled up at him and asked what he would like to be next year. It's not from you being physically there with him alone, it's from the fact you cared enough to BE with him and to show him what he was missing far beyond the surface level alone. It's the fact you even bothered to try and the fact you cared about him enough to try and bring him some joy in a usually bleak world

That's all he needs to hear to already be planning it out in his head as his face flushes. Thank goodness he's wearing the mask. He certainly doesn't know himself but he does know one thing - it's going to be a couples costume. And he's going to be celebrating with you :)

[toribellsa]

Pretend to be in love I

0//

part 1

Lando Norris was not one to pretend, especially when it came to his personal life. He was a charismatic, confident alpha and undoubtedly popular with fans and fellow racers alike. But in recent times, management decided that Lando's reputation had begun to suffer because of his partying lifestyle. That's when an idea came up among the PR team that Lando really didn't like. An idea that involved pairing him with his teammate and omega, Oscar Piastri, to soften the sharp edges and boost his own public image.

Oscar was a quiet and calm omega, with dark hair that was somewhat unkempt for Lando's taste, and soft brown eyes whose gaze was too intense. It was hard for Lando to perceive him as anything other than the kid the team had put in the neighboring car: not quite gone teenage softness, chubby cheeks, and an awkward smile for the cameras. The exact opposite of the type Lando favored.

So, he felt that he had every right to grumble and sulk when McLaren's social media started to release little by little information that would draw attention to them not only as a pair of pilots, but also as a pair of simply 'in love' alpha and omega. He honestly thought that the whole thing would be a ridiculous and awkward performance that would impress no one, and embarrass both him and Oscar. Although he had to admit that the fact that Oscar himself, for whatever reason, didn't outright protest but just nodded silently when Zack explained exactly what the team wanted him to do was infuriating.

The first few weeks were difficult and passed in an atmosphere of irritation. Lando acted like a little asshole, making sarcastic comments about Oscar's appearance and getting annoyed when their team insisted on taking some “random” pictures together. The best parts of the day for Norris were those moments when he could escape the media attention and return to the garage or the track, places where he was truly in control.

Over the next few weeks, they had to show outward signs of a relationship - wearing similar outfits, attending events side by side and smiling broadly for the cameras. But Lando continued to remain irritated, treating Oscar and everything they did as an annoying task to be crossed off his list rather than the person he really was.

Lando felt a protest flare up in the back of his mind every time he and Oscar were dictated what they should do and how they should do it. Why should he care about someone he didn't even like?

So now Lando Norris sat leaning back in his chair, never taking his eyes off the screen in front of him. This was yet another plan for him and Oscar to move forward together, one that involved them showing more physical affection and amorous glances. With a heavy sigh, Lando turned to Oscar, who was sitting on the edge of the couch, seemingly absorbed in playing on his phone.

- You know you have to be on your best behavior during this event, right? - Lando watched Oscar flinch slightly at the harshness of the tone in his voice, yet his eyes remained focused on the screen of his phone. - For example, could you at least portray the joy of being at an event like this?

Oscar nodded weakly, not even realizing the eyes on the alpha, but the guy noticed his fingers frozen over the faucet for a moment without moving. Lando crossed his arms over his chest, staring straight at the omega. He wanted to jab Oscar harder, to see the guy's almost indifferent face crinkle like a puppy being scolded for a simple mistake. Even if it was causing guilt somewhere deep in his chest.

- I don't want to do it either, Oscar, but at least I'm pretending – he growled, of course, Oscar didn't care at all, even as Lando's irritation was already at its peak. - You know I can't stand all this pretend nonsense I've found myself involved in!

- Why does it even matter to you, Lando? - Oscar's voice was as calm and steady as ever, the soft intonation in his tone only adding more fire to Norris's burgeoning anger. - 'We just have to do it because that's what the team wants. And they're doing it for you, not anyone else.

That was the final straw. Lando jumped up from his seat and hissed, “You wouldn't understand,” and walked out of the room, slamming the door. Oskar's sad gaze went only to the door slamming shut. Omega closed his eyes tiredly and leaned back on the couch, his phone forgotten in his hand. This was going to be difficult.

✺———————————✺✺———————————✺

Everything changed one weekend. It all started with a casual glance in the paddock. Lando had just finished debriefing with his mechanic when he noticed the slender figure of Oscar in the company of Logan, a longtime friend of the omega. The lad's hand rested on Oscar's shoulder as he narrated something that made Piastri laugh heartily. The young alpha seemed to take every opportunity to ruffle his hair or treat him to something tasty. Right now, Oscar was holding his favorite candy, which Lando was willing to bet Logan had brought him.

This picture only made Lando snort, but something deep inside him stirred unhappily. Something he couldn't explain to himself.

But it didn't end there. It seemed to be from that moment that Lando began to notice. Like Franco, the new Alpine pilot couldn't control his eyes following Oscar's every move during practice or warm-up, or the way the young Argentine alpha was always trying to get close to Oscar during the anthems or the drivers' parade to give him a few compliments, making Oscar's ears blush. As Max Verstappen, always relentless and stern to his rivals, smiled softly at Oscar, chatting with him immediately after the difficult qualifying on which the omega McLaren took the lead.

Oscar seemed to be surrounded by attention every day. Charles Leclair that right in front of the cameras grabbed Oscar by the waist, making a joke about how he was also a Leclair, causing Oscar to laugh awkwardly as he tried to twist out of the Ferrari prince's tight grip. It made Lando's blood boil.

And then there was Lewis, who had made a habit of taking Oscar out for a snack. “Little Omega needs to eat, right?" - Lando could hear Lewis letting out a light tease, to which Oscar responded with a shy smile and the heat spilling over his cheeks. Lando wanted to pound his fist on something. Several times.

- Look at him, – Lando grumbled to himself, feeling the possessive heat rising in his chest. - Why was he being so nice to them in the first place?

But it was Max - his best friend and ally - who had crossed the line in the most unexpected way. Every interaction he had with Oscar felt like soft warmth, every tender glance Max cast at the omega made Lando grit his teeth. The held door, the outstretched jacket, the tentative pat on his shoulder and the quiet conversations about something of their own, something shared from their past. All these things raised an unsolicited jealousy in Lando's breast.

But the one who most enraged Lando was Arthur Leclair. Charles's younger brother did not restrain himself at all: he treated another man's omega as if it were the last treasure on Earth. He brought him small thoughtful gifts and seemed to find any excuse to touch Oscar in the most innocent yet possessive way - putting his hand on Oscar's back, touching his lower back with his fingers, as if trying to imprint himself on the curve of his back.

Oscar remained polite, oblivious to the quiet storm growing inside Lando with each passing day. Whenever the other drivers tried to impress him, he only smiled lightly and simply brushed it off.

- Imagine what the media would say about me if they found out that anyone could get my omega! - Lando pounced on Max in a rare moment of privacy, pacing the familiar garage, frustration evident in his every move.

- Your omega? – Max raised an eyebrow, smirking from his seat. - Isn't he just your public screen name?

Max's words struck Lando deeply, making him stop and wonder when it was that he had come to see Oscar as his own. The image of Oscar, radiant with laughter, touched so warmly by others, made Lando jealous. A pain that tormented his heart until he could no longer ignore it. Thoughts of Oscar had been nagging at him for some time now. He remembered the times they'd been forced to stay up late discussing PR scripts or exchanging awkward conversations that were often punctuated by silence. Somewhere behind Oscar's shyness, Lando began to notice the little things: his determination despite his personal difficulties, and the way he radiated genuine kindness.

And it hit him like a thunderbolt: hell, the little shit was starting to win his heart, and he didn't even realize it.

Late one night, when Oscar was curled up in their shared room, wrapped up in a blanket, working on his laptop, Lando found himself watching mesmerized.

- Hey, Osc, –he said quietly, getting more comfortable in his seat. His voice sounded a little uncertain, which was in stark contrast to his usual demeanor.

- Yes? – Oscar, blinking slowly, turned around at Lando's voice. - Is something wrong?

Lando's heart clenched as he noticed the omega in front of him tense up, as if about to preemptively defend himself. He clenched his fists and moved closer.

- Я... uh-..... I wanted to apologize. I didn't mean to be rude to you. I'm just... I'm trying to figure it out, too, and it's complicated. Can we, uh. can we just talk?

A flicker of surprise flashed in Oscar's eyes, and a flicker of hope flickered in Lando's heart. Maybe they could work through this mess together if they both made an effort.

- Why the hell are you so nice to everyone but me? - Lando asked as the atmosphere between them changed, becoming softer and Oscar himself getting more comfortable in his mini-nest.

- Because I thought you didn't want me around. - Oscar looked up, clearly relieved but still feeling some uncertainty. - I thought that was the last thing you needed.

That simple admission struck a nerve with Lando. All that time he'd been pushing Oscar away with harsh words, Oscar had thought Lando considered himself a burden. The realization of that almost made Lando wince.

They were sitting together when Lando began to realize that all those sides of Oscar's personality that he had underestimated could captivate him. He was finally seeing not just an omega, but an incredibly talented man who knew his own worth.

With each shy smile as Oscar grinned at something Lando said, the alpha's heart beat harder. With each quiet laugh, Lando felt his heart melt, and for the first time he wanted to protect this radiant spirit that had captivated him already when he himself was unaware of it. The more he explored Oscar's world, the more he realized he didn't want to share it with anyone.

Lando reached up and brushed a loose curl from Oscar's forehead, causing the omega to stiffen in surprise, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. He looked into Oscar's eyes and caught himself wanting to cherish that soul close to him, echoing an unspoken feeling: he'd be damned if anyone else would lay claim to his omega that had unwittingly won his heart.

Lando decided it was time to make it clear that he would no longer be just a reluctant participant in the PR game his team was up to. And maybe, just maybe, Oscar could develop the same affection for the alpha who finally wanted to learn to see him not as a burden, but as the blessing he really was.

[bedoballoons]

Genshin Men Headcanons:

~Smacking/Pinching/Grabbing their ass in public~

CW: Suggestive themes! GN! Reader!

(Includes: Diluc, Albedo, Gorou, Tighnari, Kazuha, Aether, Xiao, Wanderer, Cyno, and Scaramouche!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Diluc:

Your imagination was getting the better of you, your courage building up as you watched your boyfriend work...serving drinks and taking orders. You had originally offered to help but he said he'd only be a moment...that was half a hour ago, but you weren't angry. Far from it actually.

It was warm in Angels share and he had taken off his jacket revealing his tight pants that happened to be...emphasizing some of his...features. He just looked so good...you bit your lip but in the end your impulses won as you stood up walking quietly behind him...without any warning you smacked his butt, hard enough to make a loud slapping noise.

His back straightening, as he whipped around staring your down with angry fire red eyes and a bright pink face, the people he had been serving chuckling slightly behind him. Before you could apologize he pulled you close, his words holding lust and anger as he spoke. "We, will deal with this later...your punishments undecided. Go. Sit down." You didn't know exactly what that meant but...you decided it best to listen quickly returning to your seat.

Albedo:

To you Albedo always looked beautiful, his shoulder length hair tied back out of his face, his clothes always neat and tidy...today however, as you walked through the crowded lecture room, you couldn't keep your eyes off of him. Was there something in the air...had he done something different? You weren't sure, all you knew was he looked absolutely gorgeous to the point you were having a difficult time keeping your hands to yourself.

This was made even more obvious as you followed him to the area beside the podium where he'd be giving his own lecture on alchemy and its uses. At first you were just going to give him a kiss for luck...but as he turned around to walk onto the stage...you couldn't help it, you slapped his ass, his back arching slightly in surprise as he gasped.

He turned to you wide eyed with a blush on his face, he was unable to say a word as he was rushed onto the stage. You couldn't help but giggle as he stood in front of the crowd his eyes darting to you as he stuttered through the first sentence...you might end up paying for that later.

Gorou:

You blushed slightly, your eyes on your boyfriends fluffy tail as you walked through the crowded festival, his hand holding yours tightly, tugging you happily along. You couldn't help but smile at him, he had been so nice, inviting you, buying you your favourite treats and his laugh was contagious.

If only you could take your mind off more...suggestive topics and fully enjoy the festivities, but that simply wasn't in the cards for you. Gorou paused in front of one of the concessions stand, his tail wagging in excitement as he looked at all the different fireworks,....you couldn't help it. He just looked so cute...you walked up next to him, your hand reaching down grabbing his butt softly.

He yelped in surprise, his face turning bright red as he tried to hide his blush with his hands, his ears flattening and his tail straightening. You chuckled, telling the cashier who thankfully wasn't paying much attention, you'd take two dog shaped fireworks. Considering the reaction he had...you just might do it again.

Tighnari:

Tighnari smiled slightly, occasionally mustering up a wave at students of the akademiya he had previously went to school with. The only reason he was here after all was for a renuinion with some of the other graduates...and the only reason he had even decided to attend was because of you.

Originally you had said it would be good to socialise with some of his old friends...but you also had other intentions, seeing as he had taken a opportunity like this prior to completely embarrass you in front of some of your friends. You vividly remembered how he had come up behind you kissing your neck while warning your friends you were taken. Revenge was going to be sweet...

You waited, a small crowd gathering around your boyfriend as they all spoke of their achievements and compared their latest experiments. A small mischievous smirk finding its way onto your face as stood just a bit closer to him, you could barely stop yourself giggling as you pinched his right cheek.

He jumped gasping in surprise as he looked behind him, a bright pink blush painting his face before his eyes landed on you and he pieced it all together. He crossed his arms, his schoolmates asking what happened and you just smiling, your plan worked. He'd most likely get you back later and you simply couldn't wait.

Kazuha:

You looked around the harbour, your eyes darting between the different salesmen of Liyue and the people walking by, each going about their normal everyday lives. Kazuha would say it was poetic and as you glanced at him, his small figure leaning slightly over the railing of the harbour to look at the fish swimming in the sea, you couldn't help but agree with him.

You blushed slightly as you looked him up and down, you truly felt so lucky. He was so handsome, his white hair pulled back in a ponytail gently blowing in the wind, and his red eyes scanning the waters...you sighed contemplating internally if it would it be wrong to show off a little...you bit your lip...stepping closer

Just one touch couldn't hurt...you silently said to yourself as you wrapped a arm around his waist, making him straighten for a second and you lost all control your hand grabbing his ass as he quietly moaned his face blushing heavily as he looked around. "W-what was that?"

"...I couldn't help myself"

Aether:

Why did he have to look so fine...his pants hugging all the right areas, his usual blonde braid having a few strings of hair loose that framed his face beautifully, and most of all the soft blush on his cheeks from the workout of his training. Your heart couldn't stop racing as you watched him, each movement he made making you want him more and more.

Maybe he was teasing you...well if he was...it was working, especially as he walked over to you, wiping a thin layer of sweat from his forehead. His lips moving as he spoke, but you couldn't concentrate on the words, it took him waving his hand in front of your face and calling your name for you to understand he was asking for a drink of water.

"Are you okay? You were really spaced out...I can take a break and we can eat something. Maybe your hungry?" His words were caring, and maybe you were a little hungry...just not for food. You shook your head, but he didn't seem to believe you as he turned around bending over to pick up a training dummy he had knocked over.

That's when you couldn't take it a second longer, you stood up smacking his ass...harder than you meant to. He moaned jumping back, his face redder than you had ever seen it as the noise alone drew the attention of all the knights who had been training in the area. You went to apologise but Aether was ahead of you, pulling you close to him having no shame as he kissed you deeply.

Xiao:

You looked at Xiao, his clothes wet from the downpour that had started only moments ago, forcing you to run into the nearest roofed building which happened to be a restaurant. The food smelled delicious, but it was the last thing on your mind...

Your attention was fully on your Yaksha boyfriend, his normally cream white shirt now see through...his pants clinging to his body and his hair flattened slightly against his face. You could see his muscular figure through the wet clothing and it was more than enough to make you blush.

Even as he started to speak with someone about sitting there for a few minutes you couldn't take your eyes off him...especially his ass...it was so highlighted by the clingy clothing you just wanted to...to touch it. You stood next to him, checking behind you before acting on your desires and touching his lower back.

You watched with a small smirk as he instantly straightened, his yellow eyes darting to you wondering just what you were up to. He didn't have to wait long to find out as your hand traveled slowly down to his butt, harshly grabbing it.

You watched in satisfaction as he gasped, his face turning pink as the person he had been speaking to asked him what was wrong. You simply winked at him knowing full well he'd punish you for it later...and you would enjoy it.

Wanderer:

Wanderer looked at you, slightly annoyed as he twirled slightly, his normal outfit replaced by something basically identical...except the shorts were a bit shorter than normal. "These shorts are tighter fitting. You must have measured wrong...idiot." His words sounding just as rude as ever but you didn't mind...you were enjoying the view after all.

"I didn't measure wrong,...it's probably just because they're not the exact same materials. Don't worry though...you look ver nice~" You spoke with a flirty tone, looking him up and down in a obvious way. You watched as his face blushed, his brows furrowing as he glanced at the people picking up their own garments not far from you.

"Quiet." He said under his breath, but being quiet wasn't currently in your vocabulary as you kneeled beside him, taking your measuring tape out of your pocket. He stood still and you took this perfect opportunity to use the numbered tape as a excuse. Lining it up just above his ass before gently pinching his right cheek.

You felt almost proud as he whipped around pulling you by your shirt up to his face, his blush now tomato red as he glared at you. You giggled quietly peeking over his shoulder at the people behind him, you couldn't help but whisper to him, "People are watching...later~"

Cyno:

Scaramouche:

Cyno held you close, his movements slightly clumsy as he attempted to stay on beat to the music, it had been your idea to take a class with Nilou about dancing and you weren't regretting it in the slightest as you moved your body against his. Each class was another chance to be close to your boyfriend and bond with him...over something other than joke which you loved but got a little tiring sometimes.

You giggled as you spun him, originally it was supposed to be you spinning but you'd gotten dizzy to the point of falling over and he agreed it would be best if he took a turn. He spun gracefully before pulling you close to him, your face instantly heating up as a idea crawled into your mind....

You surveyed the area, the other couples all seemingly busy trying to keep up with the moves and each other. "Is something wrong? I didn't step on your foot right...that would be toetally bad." His voice was slightly concerned but the pun still made you smile, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his lips as you nodded.

Your hand slid down from its position on his waist downwards, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at you, and you winked at him, pinching his ass. Watching in sheer delight as he jumped, his face blushing a dark red and his hand grabbing yours, holding while he contemplated just what punishment he should give for your indecency...

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You watched Scara intently, the way he put his hands on his hips when he got frustrated with someone and how he smirked when someone doubted his intelligence then found out he was smarter than them ten fold. His small figure illuminated by the dim lights of the fatui hideout and his eyes always having a slightly menacing theme to them.

Your heart skipped a beat as he looked at you, catching you staring, before...to your disappointment, simply rolling his eyes and continuing to boss lackeys around. You wanted his attention...and you couldn't help it anymore, you bit your lip slightly, looking around the room for anyway to catch his gaze again.

Yet again your eyes landed on him, this time however it was on his perfect ass, plush and soft...he was your boyfriend after all. There was nothing wrong with it and if it got his attention on you for a little it would be worth it. You wondered what consequences there would be...but quickly shrugged them away. Your mind already made up as you walked away from your spot against the wall.

You snuck as carefully as you could behind him, without a single regret, you slapped his ass your palm stinging for a second. You watched as he moaned out loud, turning to you with furious rage in his eyes and the deepest blush you had ever seen on him. You giggled before sprinting away...you knew he'd catch you but that was half the fun...

~Requests Open~

A/N: Sorry this is so late!! Also should I make any genshin female HCs?

[beenbaanbuun]

fever w/ kang yeosang

words - an amount 🙂‍↕️

genre - hurt/comfort, sickfic

warnings - food avoidance because of illness, mentions of vomiting, reader is a little bratty but it’s the fever talking, yeosang is tired :((, not proof read

——————————————————————————

“you need to eat something, baby,” yeosang grumbles, arm folded crossly over his half-exposed pecs. you can’t help but focus on the way he’s standing there in nothing but a tank top and some shorts while you’re sat shivering in one of the many hoodies that you’ve stolen from his closet. you’ve been blaming the fever for how cold you seem to be at the minute, but you’ve always ran a little colder than your boyfriend. whenever he needs a sweater, you need a sweater, a coat and a scarf. you’re just a little nesh, you suppose.

your eyes flicker around the kitchen, studying everything that crosses your vision. perhaps you could have some toast, you think as your eyes land on the half-finished loaf of bread on the counter. then you think about how heavy your stomach feels, even when it’s empty, and you realise that perhaps toast isn’t the best option. you turn your nose up and move on to the bowl of fruit that yeosang had just refilled this morning. the scent of the bananas alone is enough to make you feel sick, and perhaps the citrus fruits aren’t the best choice when you’ve been struggling to keep food down.

“i’m only going to throw it up again,” you argue, trying your hardest to make your expression pathetic and sad. you commit to it, bringing out the sad arched brows and the big wet eyes. your bottom lip juts out just a little and for extra effect, you can’t help but wobble it a little. for a moment of two, you’re almost sure it’ll work. yeosang’s eyes soften and his arms go limp and fall back to his sides. you’re almost positive that he’ll let you off with another day of medicine and water, you can practically feel it on your tongue—

“you don’t know until you try.”

your shoulders sink upon hearing your words and your features drop, expressing only apathy and defeat. sure, the puppy dog eyes have never worked on him before, but there’s a first time for everything. you were certain that this would be that time.

“yeosang!” you whine, trying to grab his attention as he turns to face the countertop. he whines your name back in exactly the same nasally tone you used. “please! my throat already hurts from all the acid; i just want one day where i don’t throw up. it’ll make me feel less miserable.”

he ignores you, lifting his phone from the counter and typing a few words into safari. you wish you could see i what it says, but from your position, huddled up on a dining chair—which you would only move from if a hefty bribe was offered your way—you can’t even dream of looking around his oversized torso.

damn him for getting buff.

“google says banana’s are goo—”

“no,” you cut him off, head shaking wildly like a petulant child.

“baby~”

“they smell bad!”

with a sigh, yeosang goes back to looking.

“dry brown rice?” he offers meekly, already foreseeing the outcome of his offer. he doesn’t even have to turn around to see your face screwed up in displeasure; it’s already so clear in his mind. “nevermind, it was a stupid suggestion.”

you hum in agreement, the small sound making him crack a small smile. despite being incredibly difficult, yeosang can admit that you do have your sweet moments while you’re feverish. your mind may be muddled and your body doing everything in its power to make your life a living hell, but you still somehow manage to put a smile on his face.

if he wasn’t desperate to not catch whatever 18th century plague has taken up residence in your body, he’d spin around and kiss you. squish your cheeks together like he always does when he wants to annoy you a little, bring your face up to his, and just kiss you. it’s almost impossible not to when he’s been missing out on the feeling of your lips on his for the past few days, but when he hears the sound of your stomach churning and a pained groan leave your lips, he remembers exactly why he’s doing this to himself.

“how about broth?” he suggests, putting his mind back on the task at hand, “you like broth, baby.”

he’s right, you do like broth. or at least you like it when you’re not feeling like satan himself has put his little tapdancing shoes on specifically to do a jig atop your stomach. instinctively you wrap an arm around your abdomen which after a short period of docility, has began to cramp again. that broth really doesn’t sound appealing right now…

“yeosang…” you say, dejected and miserable. he sighs, understanding exactly what you mean by saying his name in that tone of voice; it’s a disheartened no from you.

and while it pains him to be forceful with you—or anyone for that matter—he can’t just sit and watch you waste away over a poorly stomach. he has to put his foot down for once.

“baby, you need to eat,” he sighs and rubs a hand over his face. he hates being so bossy with you, almost as much as he hears the weary sound pass from your lips just after his soft command. “just a small bowl, okay? just for me; your yeosang?”

and while it’s an obvious guilt trip, a little bribe to make you feel a little bad about refusing to eat, you can’t help but fall for it. you sigh, wrapping your arms around your knees so you can pick at your fingers guiltily. it’s not like you can help being sick, but maybe you have been a little dramatic about the whole refusing to eat thing. sure, your stomach churns at even the thought of food, but yeosang is right; if you don’t try, you won’t know. the idea of throwing up again frightens you, but broth is a liquid; it’ll be easy to come back up.

you resign with a minuscule hum, so quiet it’s almost silent.

“fine,” yeosang hardly believes the word when you say it with so much resignation, “one small bowl of broth…”

[tanobatcher]

first kiss

wolffe x jedi fem reader summary: a night out with your friend reveals a curiosity you want to explore outside of your jedi commitments. warnings: nonchalant final boss wolffe and suggestive content a/n: in my head, this is a continuation of moonlight with some time skip obv ~~ but i'm not listing them together since they are completely separate scenarios without any reference to the other. it's kinda fun thinking about this one shot with that background context tho idk but i'm saying this from a writer's perspective since i love a good buildup in general. also i'm mourning my first kiss fr i wish it was him :( another note...i think i have a problem with cliffhangers but ig that's my style atp

79's is loud, dark, and busy. It's exactly like the kind of place you were advised to stay away from as a youngling growing up in the Temple. There are all sorts of enticing opportunities that might tip anyone's self-control over the edge, opening doors your duties keep locked out of reach. It's not a rulebook you follow, though. It's a code. One that cautions against addiction—whether the item of interest is alcohol, money, or something less tangible like the ecstasy of interpersonal connections.

Sex. In other words.

"Is it always like this?" You mutter, unsure where to rest your eyes without staring at the entangled bodies scattered around the bar. But the intimate proximity between every pair doesn't unsettle you as much as the fact that they're all attached to each other by the mouth in addition to all the other places where they're shamelessly grabbing each other. Their movements are lazy and drunken. Unsurprisingly, this is the most popular commodity found at 79's. The pretty women, all exotic and eager, always turn heads and stimulate competition among the men simply trying to ease their nights during this difficult war. You understand their innate desires, even if you're forbidden to feel them yourself.

"I didn't think you'd approve," comes a response. It's quiet, but you hear the "I told you so" in it.

Tearing your gaze away from a particular couple directly in your line of vision, you glance up at your remaining company—the only person who didn't split off from your group in search of something else. His eyes are sharp as they meet yours, but he looks tired. You know this because his posture is relaxed for once, not at its usual state of stiff attention. It's obvious he's also bored, which is ironic. This is the only place where someone like him can do whatever he wants. Or so you believe.

"Why not?" You reply, not stopping a defensive edge from seeping into your question.

The answer is clear to both of you despite being left unspoken. You're a Jedi. Just a couple of hours ago, you had to clarify the rumored myth circling across the Grand Army of the Republic that "Jedi can't have sex." They can, you said. We can. They just can't form attachments. They can't fall in love. They can't feel anything more than what they choose to do, which never fully made sense to you as a youngling. It still doesn't. And still, you abstain from anything that jeopardizes your honor and denies your code. Wolffe might not follow the same way of life as you, but he knows what it means to walk that fine line. It's only natural someone as committed as him does, really.

"It doesn't feel like you approve either," you continue when he seems to ignore you.

"I don't not approve."

You roll your eyes at this clear avoidance of your statement. "Well, believe it or not, you don't exactly appear as if you're having a good time."

"Yeah?" He exhales a little roughly and leans back against the wall with an expression even more bored than before, "What does that look like?"

While his figure seems to take up more space as this conversation progresses, yours shrinks and attempts to hide from his judgmental demeanor. Still, you point out, "You're completely sober."

"So are you," he says, eyeing you warily.

"I told you not to hold back on my accord."

Irritation flashes across his gaze, but it's so brief that the moment nearly slips from your fingers. You're more focused on him than you think, though, because you suddenly feel something warm and angry radiating from his spirit. But why? Which one of his nerves did you strike this time? That always seems to be the case with him, which also begs the question of why he's even here. With you.

"I don't want this," you vaguely gesture a hand between the two of you, "To be a thing. You can have fun tonight, you know. I heard that we won't be on Coruscant for very long."

He only seems to hear the first part of what you just said since he merely repeats, "A thing." The two words put together on his tongue sound a lot more menacing than you give him credit for. Cringing at yourself as subtly as possible, you try not to reveal that you're secretly questioning your ability to hold a proper conversation with him outside of your battles and briefings. Embarrassing yourself is the last thing you want to do, but maybe he's banking on it.

"I'm saying you don't need to babysit me. I'm fine," you brush off, feeling your face grow hot as your eyes dart around the room instead of looking at him.

He hasn't moved an inch—not even his gaze—as he replies, "This isn't babysitting."

In any other circumstance, his short and vague reciprocation wouldn't frustrate you like it is now. But you’re dizzy from the noise and flashing lights, while a tight knot burns an ache in your lower stomach. It's humiliating to think that such an unfamiliar yet normal environment is causing your body and mind so much discomfort. It's even more humiliating to admit this aloud, especially to someone as unbothered as your commander.

"So, what is it?" You unintentionally snap, "Because I don't know why either of us is just standing here while everyone else..."

Wolffe raises his eyebrows at you. "Then we'll leave."

Your head turns toward him with incredulity. "No, that's not what I meant. You can stay, if anything."

"So, you're leaving."

Sighing, you fold your arms over your chest and cast another glance around the room. "Is that what you want?"

You sense his surprise, which can't even be confirmed by the look on his face—only your intuition. You're forced to expose more of your own truths when he asks, "Does it matter?" instead of revealing whatever he's feeling for once in response to your questions.

"A little," you hear yourself telling him unabashedly, "I wouldn't want you to feel like you can't...do anything when I'm around."

He scoffs under his breath and rolls his eyes at this, not even bothering to respond with anything else. You don't miss the slight curve of his lips that indicates his amusement, which can only be intended toward how out of place you feel at the moment. Funny to him, maybe. You can barely hear yourself over the blaring music as you shake your head and mumble, “Never mind. I’m being childish.”

“I’m sure things are different at the Temple.”

“Depends. Some Jedi know their way around.”

The breath he releases almost sounds like a chuckle, deep and close to your ear. “Guess you missed out on that.”

A joke, you think to yourself as you turn your body fully toward him. He’s already facing you, shadowed and distant beneath this lighting. Still, you see him clearly. Everyone else in the room is hardly recognizable, passing through your peripheral in blurry figures and faces while he remains still and centered before you. The music suddenly feels quieter, and the conversations seem to die down. You can hear yourself better when you tell him, “I’m trying not to…anymore. Miss out, I mean.”

Waiting for his reaction, you sink your teeth into your tongue just to feel that momentary sting without drawing blood. It’s a silly confession, but it’s the honest reason why you’re here tonight. You want to know what it’s like to feel that high everyone whispers about. Even if you forget all about it by the time the sun rises. Even if just for a second that sensation enters your bones and spills into your blood. Even if you regret it, too. The way you see it now, you would rather live with that than not know at all.

Wolffe looks displeased when he replies, “This is the worst possible place you could have chosen if you wanted to fuck someone tonight.”

Embarrassed again, you frown and say, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You couldn’t have meant it any other way.”

“There’s more than just sex. Don’t you know that?”

He startles you when he crosses his arms over his chest and leans closer just enough to make your heart race for reasons you’re afraid to unpack.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” he murmurs.

The softness of his tone sends a chill down your spine, contrasting the furious warmth in your face. It doesn’t take much to understand the implications of his words. But you’re not sure why they leave a bad taste in your mouth. It almost feels strange to imagine him in any of the situations occurring around the bar—hookups, flirtatious conversations, and much more when someone offers to go to the back or even leave this place. And just like that, when it’s all over, it’s never to be spoken about ever again. The art of detachment, which is somehow very aligned with the Jedi way.

“So, you do know how to have a good time,” you lean forward as well, “I thought you might have been just as lost as me.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s not a disappointment. I’m also not surprised.”

He pauses with a guarded expression before carefully responding, “No?”

You shake your head. “No. You’re attractive. They’re attractive. It makes sense.”

He flicks his gaze to your outstretched hand as you vaguely gesture to some of the available women circling the bar before looking back at you. It doesn’t seem to bother him that you just made an extremely unprofessional statement just now, but you feel a tighter pull between the energy that flows from his spirit to yours. The reaction is there—he simply does a good job of hiding it. Unable to ignore this, you take a step closer to him and smile.

“I wouldn’t kiss and tell either,” you lightly touch his arm with a few fingertips, “We don’t have to make it a big deal.”

That flare of anger from before returns as he grabs your wrist and pulls back. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I do,” you disagree, “And I’d feel safer if it was you. We’re friends.”

He makes a face that almost has you believing he’s in pain for a moment, but he quickly regains his composure before you can ask.

“If you’re scared, then you shouldn’t be considering something like this at all,” he says coldly.

“I’m not scared. I trust you.”

He stares at you in disbelief and squeezes his fingers as if he’s trying to convince himself to let go. Before he can follow through, though, you step between his legs and clutch him by the forearms. This sudden movement brings your faces much closer together, and you can hear the ragged breath he takes once he realizes you have him cornered.

“Don’t do this.”

“You can say no.”

His eyes narrow as his jaw clenches. “Just for you to find someone else.”

You pause upon hearing the venom in his tone. “Does it matter?”

He holds your gaze, knowing you’ve taken his words from before. It’s another chance for him to admit anything he’s hiding, whether from you or even himself.

“It does,” he bites out, “If you’re going to be an idiot and not think this through.”

“I have thought it through. It doesn’t need to mean anything.”

“So, you jump in some bastard’s bed tonight, and the whole Republic finds out about it. What then?”

You wrinkle your nose at this hypothetical, which feels exaggerated and unnecessary to consider. “I know you wouldn’t do that.”

“I wouldn’t,” he glares at you, “But I’m also not offering that chance.”

“Because you don’t want…”

You don’t finish your sentence, realizing you sound more desperate as this conversation progresses. Snapping your mouth shut to process the rejection sinking in your stomach, you nod and begin to pull away from him. But he doesn’t let you. Studying his face with curiosity, it’s clear that he’s much angrier than before. The burning, hot irritation is simply climbing higher and higher the longer you stay near him like this. So vulnerable as if you’ve given yourself up to him. He’s not holding you by the wrist anymore but by the hips with both hands now, shifting your body closer and greedier.

“Let go, Wolffe.”

“You’re being naive.”

Averting your eyes from his, you look down where your frontside is nearly flush against his. “I don’t need a lecture.”

“What you don’t need is to sleep with someone just to feel better about yourself.”

“Isn’t that what everyone does?” You hesitate before pushing at his chest a bit, “What you do?”

When he doesn’t answer your question, you’re certain there’s no point in staying here any longer. You turn your head a bit to look around, but he seems to mistake this as an indication of your next destination—someone else. It’s unclear why he even cares, especially if he’s turning you down like this. That is, until you feel his hands travel across your upper body. His touch isn’t heavy at all, hardly burning holes through your clothes, which tells you he’s still trying to be careful. But the weight of this action is a lot more difficult to bear than the actual experience itself. He settles his palms across your waist, spreading his fingers out as if to cover as much surface as possible. It’s almost too gentle for someone like him.

Turning back to him, you nearly lose the breath you were just about to exhale. It gets stuck in your throat, constricting your insides into a whirlwind of squeezing nerves. This is the same Wolffe you’ve known for a couple of years now. The same Wolffe who’s never made any move to touch you if he doesn’t need to. The current look in his eyes is wildly different, though. It’s the reason for your pause as you try to recognize the hungry darkness threatening to swallow you whole. And maybe, if you push a little harder, it just might.

“You want me,” you whisper, “I can feel it.”

He closes his eyes. Opens them slowly. “Careful.”

But you’re already treading dangerously. Inhaling a deep breath, you let your body lean into his touch a little more. Closer. Even closer when he applies some pressure to his hands. He’s looking at your lips in anticipation of a kiss, which is becoming imminently unavoidable with the little distance that remains between your stolen breaths. Nervous, you steady yourself by bracing your hands against the solid plane of his chest and feel some vibrations when he finally speaks.

“I’m not kissing you just so you can prove your point.”

Your lips part as your breath hitches upon hearing how hoarse and desperate he sounds despite the indifference in his words. You almost have him where you want him. Time seems to slow as the room empties, but only in your imagination. All that occupies your consciousness is you and him in each other’s arms.

“Then kiss me because you want to.”

You hear a soft curse sound from his lips, and it’s almost sweet. It’s not rough and mean like the version of him you’re used to. The version of him you suspect you’ll still like, even after this whole situation becomes a forgotten memory. Maybe it won’t even make it to that point, because he still hasn’t kissed you. You pull your head back just a bit with the intention of saying something, but that only worsens his irritation. It also provokes the reaction you’ve been waiting for. There’s something impatient about the way his mouth claims yours, even though he’s the one who wasted all this time in the first place. Both of you are wondering the same thing, though. What took so long?

Your eyes flutter shut as he slows the kiss, letting it linger before pulling away. Still holding you close, he rests his forehead against yours while catching his breath in a few short exhales. You can see his heavy-lidded stare through your lashes when you open your eyes, also breathing deeply to savor the last of what’s already gone. But just as you accept this is over, he cups the back of your neck and leans in for more. And when he kisses you again, you know this time is the real him—the one that isn’t holding back anymore.

You gasp against his mouth when he pivots your bodies and pushes you into the wall that was just behind him. While you’re too far gone in his embrace to care if anyone sees you like this, he seems to remember your status outside of these walls. Covering your figure with his, he takes your surprise as an opportunity to kiss you deeper. His lips part yours wider with a low groan that wracks a shiver through your shoulders. He feels you tremble against him in that moment, caressing your jaw with the hand cupping your neck. His other arm holds you steady, gentle unlike the way he’s kissing you now.

It’s almost hard to keep up as everything intensifies. He’s still kissing you slowly, but it’s not lazy like the speed might suggest. Everything about the way his lips open and close over yours, sucking roughly when you sigh, speaks to his calculating nature. You wind your arms around his neck and drop your face to his chest when he nudges his thigh between your legs, applying just enough pressure to stimulate yet another foreign feeling you want more of.

“That feels…” you gasp softly as he slides his thigh deeper between your legs and kisses your neck, “…Good.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he groans into your skin.

You shake your head and tighten your arms around him, afraid he’ll walk away now when you finally have what you want. “I don’t care. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“To you.”

The response sounds bitter as it gets lost in another kiss you’re not sure who initiates. All you can feel is his mouth slipping over yours with barely any air to breathe between your kisses. He pulls back just to kiss you again—harder, angrier, and rougher as if to tell you something he can’t admit aloud. His hands are now clutching at your clothes, dragging slightly before pausing like a reminder of not to get carried away. You feel the feverish desperation beneath the fabric, though. You want to feel it even closer if it means feeling him closer.

“Wolffe,” you manage through another kiss.

“Mhm?”

“We can leave. Go somewhere else.”

He seems to consider it as he sucks on your neck just above your collarbone, but it isn’t until he pulls back and sees your face that reality sinks in. Your stomach drops when his expression blanches, growing cold and distant once again. The regret is clear as it writes itself all over his hard stare, one that you never expected to be so disappointed to see. Maybe if you hadn’t said anything, you wouldn’t have ruined a moment that never belonged to you in the first place.

“What’s wrong?” You ask quietly, even though you know the exact answer.

You. It’s you.

“This…was wrong,” he lets go of you completely and steps back, closer to the crowd that’s about to engulf him into disappearance, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

You try to reach for him, but he’s already so far. “Wolffe, it doesn’t—“

“Stop,” he avoids your touch, “I can’t.”

Some wounds sting at his words, but they bleed when he leaves without sparing you another glance. It’s suddenly so noisy once again, suffocating you with shitty music and boring conversations you don’t want to overhear any longer. The air has grown stale, but you still taste him on your tongue as his figure joins the blur of everyone else in this loud, dark, and busy bar.

[fairytsuk1]

looking glass | (s)

apart of the meet cute: gone wrong series, click here for more!

pairing: shoto todoroki x reader

words: 5.7k

prompt: "moving into a new apartment and realizing they can see directly into their neighbor’s window"

warnings: strangers to lovers, masturbation, mild pervert!todoroki, voyeurism, exhibitionism, fingering, kitchen sex, unprotected sex, alcohol

Shoto had decided to move. He had to get away from it all, and his only option post-college was to find an apartment where he could heal from all his trauma in peace. The moving-in process had been grand, Midoriya had come by, and he was always such a great friend. Even some ex-classmates had come by, with welcoming gifts or a helping hand. Even Bakugou had paid a visit with Kirishima, and the distance was starting to seem not so bad now that he was settled into his one-bedroom apartment.

Things were looking up! Job security, a new place, and lots of people to meet. It even felt a bit exciting. A new chapter.

“So you’re single?”

The apartment complex had its pitfalls, namely the single women that had spotted an attractive bachelor on their radar and were quick to bomb-rush him with questions. Was he single? Was he set to be married? Married in the past? Looking for that special someone?

An older woman, Miyako, had come with onigiri and many questions. Some bordered on creepy, but Todoroki had difficult time saying “go away” to people who didn’t deserve it. He’d come a long way from his teenage years; he had to be better now.

“I’m just going about life right now, er; I’ll let you know?”

Miyako looked thrilled to have caught Shoto’s attention, but it was beginning to feel embarrassing when he only wanted to take out the trash.

“Oh, that’s great! Believe me, my husband is always gone, so if I never need… help, I know how to find you!”

It seemed a bit distasteful that she’d tried lowering her eyes and rubbing her lips together as if he’d get with a married woman. Gosh, imagine the drama. Todoroki took a look around, and most people were leaving for work. He probably shouldn’t be seen with this lady like this.

“Yeah, I’m not exactly handy, though. Uhm, I hope it all works out,” and Todoroki's taking the tray from her hands, “and thank you for the onigiri.”

She follows his steps as he moves backward, “Oh, but are you sure you don’t need anything else?”

An angelic voice floats out from behind him. It’s the smoothest voice he’s ever heard.

“I’m sure he’s fine, Miyako!”

He was thankful someone had come to put this cougar to rest, but as he turned towards the sound of the voice… he thought he could hear bells in the distance. Have you always been living here? Are you a guardian angel striking a pose on Earth? Why hadn’t he gotten to see you earlier?

“Oh, I’m just checking up on him!” 

She dares to pinch his cheek, and he can feel it grow warm under her manicured nails, “isn’t he so cute?”

“Soooo cute,” and you offer a small wave, “Hi there.”

He doesn’t take your lack of a compliment to heart, waving back and noting your name. It was pretty, and it fits you perfectly. So did the suit you were wearing, the blazer buttoned to accentuate curves, and you still managed to adorn yourself with gold jewelry without losing your air of professionalism.

“Well, I have to go,” Miyako rests a hand on his, whispering, “Enjoy the onigiri.”

“Thanks.”

She gives a pleasant goodbye to you, and you’re approaching closer as she walks away.

“Got caught by Miyako, huh?”

“Well, I guess. I was taking out my trash, and then she asked all these questions with the tray of onigiri; I couldn’t tell her to go away.”

“You should! She goes after nearly every bachelor that moves here but don’t try it. I’ve seen too many guys get beaten to a pulp by her husband; it’s a dangerous game.”

“Oh, oh no. I wasn’t going to–”

“I didn’t think you would,” and you have the confidence to give him a wink, “you just moved here a couple weeks ago, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m apartment 438. Where are you?”

“Oh, just across from the other side, but there’s never any parking over there! I really am only over here for work,” you gesture to yourself with a small shrug, “law firm.”

Ah, so that’s the reason for the briefcase. He gives a small smile in return. Has he been nervous this entire time?

“Well, government job. So, we’re in the same boat.”

“Hah! I guess so. If you’re ever in trouble, then call me! Unless it’s something pretty bad, I just do real estate stuff.”

“Real estate?”

“You don’t have to pretend to be interested in it! But it’s not bad, not like you think.”

“No, I wasn’t lying. I could never go through law school; that’s very admirable.”

He’s pleased that your cheeks lift unconsciously, murmuring a “thank you.”

The two of you linger in the presence of each other for a minute or two longer, but it feels like ages as the breeze brushes past the two of you under the sun's warmth. You’re the first to break, sighing and offering your hand, “I’ve gotta go, but it was so nice to meet you!”

Your hand is soft, not scarred like his that came from years of working out and being rougher in his younger years. Electricity raves through his veins when you give him a firm shake.

“Yes, you too. Have a good day at work,” he feels his cheeks burn unconsciously at the statement, fingers curling around the onigiri like a lifeline.

“I’ll need it!”

He tries not to watch you get into your gray Toyota, so he busies himself with inspecting the gift he was given till he hears your engine rev. The last look he gives you wasn’t meant to feel like he was yearning to talk to you more, but he’s afraid it does when he catches your eye, and you only smile.

The apartment is cozy, but as he eats his onigiri, he wonders if you’d want to share some with him sometime.

“I’m getting too wrapped up in this,” he mumbles at the small island in his kitchen, “I’ve got to get to work.”

It’s a slow work day.

-

“A lady? Who’d you meet? That’s great, Todoroki!”

Midoriya blabbers eagerly to him over the phone, having to catch up on each other’s lives, “Yeah, she saved me from some old lady. She was hitting on me.”

“An old woman!? Wow, was she the one who gave you onigiri?”

“Yup.”

“Wow! Gosh, I can’t believe it! I mean, didn’t you say she was married?! That’s just crazy, Todoroki. I don’t know what I’d do!”

“She was not going to leave me alone,” he stirs a pot of marinara sauce lazily, “but everyone here is very nice.”

He doesn’t say your name, but he means you.

“Mhm, that’s good. Uraraka and I have been good. We’re looking at buying a house!”

“Right, how’s that going?”

He’s able to lose himself in the conversation and dinner-making. It’s peaceful; it feels like home. His lights are low, which adds to the lighting, and he can’t help but feel lonely. Usually, at home, he’d smell the soft perfume of his mother or the sizzle of food from Fuyumi. 

Todoroki tried to put the lost memories out of his mind. Midoriya was here, and he supposed that was never a sad thing.

“Sounds like you guys have a plan,” the sauce is nearly done, and he finally takes a second to rest against the counter, “I think it’s going to go great. I can always help you with moving when the time comes.”

“Thank you so much! I think we’re pretty steady on what we wanna do….”

It only takes a flickering gaze around the room to cause Todoroki to be shaken to his core. He ended up with a nice balcony in his apartment and opted for curtains during move-in. 

This time though, this evening, he’d left them wide open. Wide open and exposed directly to your apartment. You were not only inside but walking around half-naked.

“Todoroki?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Oh! I was just saying would you prefer gray walls or white ones? We still can’t decide.”

Picking up your living room is a menial task to you, but not to the man drooling over how you bend over and how your panties outline the plush fat of your ass. White panties with lace.

“...White is good, maybe a bit off-white.”

“That’s what I was thinking!”

The sauce starts to boil over, “shit!”

“Is everything okay?”

He’s got his phone trapped between his shoulder and ear, rushing to turn down the heat and making quick glances at the sliding doors, “Yeah! Yeah, everything’s fine. My dinner’s ready; I have to go.”

“Okay! Hope it’s super good; talk to you later! Bye.”

“Yup, thanks. Bye.”

The phone is slid away on the counter, the sauce is lowered to a medium-low, and his eyes are finally free to enjoy the show that’s been stirring guilt and arousal in his gut. You look good. More than good, so good that he can’t be bothered to turn away in shame. He’s locked in, and you have no idea what you’re doing as your prance around your living room. 

You’re just cleaning up. No big deal, but it feels like something is watching your every movement. It only clicks once you reach the sliding glass door to see Todoroki’s “empty” apartment gazing back at you. It makes sense now; you must’ve been putting on a grand show for him while doing your chores.

Something in your brain whispers an idea to you. One that makes you want to go “Eureka!”

It’s a bad idea, an awful idea, to not shut the curtains. However… How often do you get to tease an attractive man? How often do you get to enthrall someone in your figure, your body? It’s an awful idea to turn around and take a nice long stretch down to your toes, but you don’t care.

Maybe he’s imagining filling you up or getting off to the fact that you think he’s not watching. The thought strangely excites you. Sure, it’s immoral, but the fact that eyes are tracking your every curve and committing them to memory is so alluring. You’re definitely going to use your vibrator later. 

Todoroki’s hard in his sweatpants; the indentation is practically obscene. A flush spreads through his body, making him unbearably hot. There’s a weird other being inside him that wants to march over to your door and fuck you till you love him. But… he’s being a creep. You’d be scared, uncomfortable! He would never in a million years try to do something to you, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t drink in a long look at your plump ass practically in his face. 

But then you do something unexpected; you turn around. Todoroki's reflexes are fast, and the minute your leg bends, he’s acutely aware that if he doesn’t move, he’s going to get caught! Two-toned hair dives towards the floor, the thump definitely irritating his downstairs neighbors as he crawls till he’s behind his sofa and safely able to peer his eyes around the arm.

You look askance like you’re waiting to see something. Todoroki watches you wait a minute more before stepping forward and swiftly tugging the curtains shut. The show’s over, but his cock is still hard in his boxers, and Todoroki thinks it might be time for a shower. 

He fists his cock needily under the warm water, breathing your name in soft exhales as he works himself to the end. The cum splatters lewdly against the tiles, and he’s shocked to find his knees weak. What were you doing to him?

Neither of you sees each other again for a while. Your work takes up so much of your time, and your heart withers watching the daylight pass by in your office. Todoroki has been busy, too, he’s closer to the heart of the city, and the daily commute has worn him thin. It’s exhausting, and the two of you are not even the slightest bit excited to read the flier posted up on your doors.

[SHIKETSU COMPLEX MONTHLY BARBECUE AND PICNIC!]

Todoroki’s eyes are assaulted by the bright colors that jump out at him. There are many reasons not to go. He is so tired, Miyako might be there, he doesn’t know anyone like that, he has no kids, he doesn’t know how to barbecue…

His mind keeps circling back to you like a train stuck in a loop on the track. It’s unbelievable that he’s rationalizing attending this event just because he thinks you might be there. You probably won’t go; why would you? You’re way too busy. He tries to convince himself to walk back to the apartment as he makes his way to the barbecue. You won’t be there; he’s an idiot.

Yet there you are, under the hot sun shining in a warm yellow sundress that contrasts your brown skin beautifully. You’ve adorned yourself with gold jewelry again. His heart flutters in his chest. Todoroki can’t believe he’s there and that you were there too.

“Hello, handsome,” you smile warmly as he approaches a picnic table with pre-made potato salad, “did you make this?”

“Huh? Hello, and I-uh, well,” he’s unsure whether to lie or tell the truth, “I don’t know!”

He’s lucky he’s handsome because you laugh lightly and point to the artichoke dip, “Honestly, I don’t know if I made that either,” and then you’re humming with a warm hand on his shoulder, “unless you’re a secret housewife, no one cares that the bachelor doesn’t know how to cook.”

“Is that really my nickname?”

“To some, yeah. Especially Miyako; I swear she’s been trying to scout you out from when you arrived. She’s here with her husband and kids too! She has no shame.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty weird. How have you been, by the way?”

There’s a clear elephant in the room to him; he can’t get your body out of his head. His senses go haywire every time you move, flashing a show of skin. Hopefully, you have no idea.

“Oh, good! Good, just working. I haven’t seen you around often these days; early commute?”

“Mhm, it takes up a lot of time. I don’t mind being in the city, but it’s hard to come back home and do it all over again,” he smiles warmly, “I feel jealous of you.”

“Oh, trust me, once you’re spending long hours in an office and leaving when the sun’s down, you won’t be saying that anymore!”

It’s just a friendly neighbor chat, but it comes so easily for the two of you. It’s not like you guys are chatting for the second time ever, but as if you’ve been friends for years, getting caught up in reminiscing. You launch the dice, scoring snake eyes.

“Hey, I know you mentioned you weren’t too handy the last time we talked, but how are you with electronics? Televisions?”

“I-I used to live in a dorm, so I know a little. Is something wrong?”

“My tv has been having connective issues! I don’t know what the problem is, but I was hoping you might be able to come and look at it whenever you’re free.”

He’s being baited like a shark; he knows this too well. It’s an extremely attractive olive branch. At this point, it’s not even a branch but a whole Garden of Eden planted by you for him. He can’t wait to bite the apple.

Todoroki nods genially, “Of course, I can take a quick look at it. No promises if I don’t know what to do; I’m not an expert.”

You’re sipping your cocktail with a coy look, “I’m sure you’re an expert in other things. If you watch something enough, you’ll eventually pick it up.”

The comment makes Todoroki go stock still, eyes blown out and face deadly pale as you shrug up at him. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but you’re waltzing away to engage with some of the mothers. That had to be a dig; you had to know what he did that evening. Maybe inviting him over was a plot to kill him for being a spying creep. 

Then there’s the chance that you… liked it. It feels impossible to even consider that option, but it was clear that you weren’t exactly mad. You would’ve confronted him straight away; he’s sure of that. So, what was he to do? Pretend to be innocent? Tell you that he thought you were extremely beautiful and sexy, so much so that he watched you through your window while you weren’t wearing clothes?

A man offers him a beer; Togami, he says. Todoroki is left to sip the acrid drink and ponder whether he should skip town. 

You keep looking at him, and you know the other moms are starting to notice your wandering eye fixated on the lone wolf. Aka, a mother of two, grins eagerly, “See something you like? Ah, young love!”

“It’s not young love. We’ve barely talked, Aka.”

Mayumi chimes in, “Really? It looks like he wants to talk to you; every time you look away, he looks back at you!”

“Are you being serious? You guys are crazy; nothing is going on!”

They’re swirling around you like viper snakes. Their lives are so consumed by their children that they see themselves in you, and they’re poking and prodding like you’re their next do-over, “Why don’t you talk to him?”

“I actually did, Mayumi,” you shrug, “it was good! Nothing crazy, not like how I know you guys are thinking. What dirty minds!”

Obviously, the mothers were gossipy, but you wonder if maybe he needed an extra push. Due to your line of work, you were familiar with pushing someone right till they crack like an egg. You’d left him looking like a sorrowful puppy, and the alcoholic drinks were brewing fiercely in your tummy. Liquid courage runs through you, and you set your margarita down to smooth out your dress.

Maybe they were right; maybe you should do something. Prod him a bit.

“I’m going to be right back,” you mumble to the gaggle of women that debate the current happenings of Ema, a new mom that entered the block and seemed desperate to wreak havoc. You’d met her, and she was actually quite nice. 

But that’s not the point. No, you’re straightening your posture and sauntering over with a sway of your hips. You were going to do this.

Your eyes are locked onto Todoroki’s figure as you confidently walk towards him, “Todoroki! Are you getting ready to head out?”

He gives you a small nod, looking around before nudging you, “It looks about time. Are you?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I am. I’m looking forward to just straight-up relaxing.”

“Right,” and he seems to be brimming with liquid confidence as well because he offers, “Do you want me to walk you back?”

It feels weird to be asked that; it’s not a direct question but an offering. Despite that, though, there’s a feeling bubbling underneath the surface. Both of you know that you could give in right here and now, forgo the traditional courting and go straight to fucking like wild animals. 

“Gladly, thank you,” he follows with you leading the way, “I think you fit in well.”

“Huh?”

“I said, I think you fit in well. In the neighborhood, you really round it all out. Plus, everyone likes you.”

“Not everyone,” his face tinges pink, so cute.

“Yeah, yeah,” stopping at the steps to my door, you shrug at him, “Do you want to come inside for a second?”

It’s another checkpoint. Another moment that makes one pause and think, “Is this it?” Another moment Todoroki barrels through, eagerly accepting the invitation and kicking his shoes off at the front of your home.

He seems to really take in your apartment as you scurry to make a polite pot of tea. Heterochromatic eyes sweep over the large glass doors; he doesn’t hide his open gawking. You tug your bottom lip between your teeth while pouring boiling water over tea leaves, “I take it to mean you like my apartment?”

“Like? I-I mean, it’s….”

Todoroki trails off, honing in on the pictures on the mantle.

“It’s very homely,” he turns back to look at you, smiling softly, “It looks great.”

“Ah, thank you. Tea?”

The man gladly takes it, and you can feel the lingering warmth of his comments as you chit-chat. You wonder what he’s thinking; his curiosity is on full display. You could come up with a few ideas. Before you know it, Todoroki is checking his watch and giving you a straight face.

“It’s getting late,” his cheeks twitch to a frown before remaining neutral, “but it was really nice to spend time together.”

Does everything he says have romantic undertones? You nod, covering your flushing cheeks with a hand before an idea strikes you. It slips out on accident; you didn’t mean for it to come out, really!

“I agree,” and the bomb drops, “I’d expect a great view from your window tonight.”

Your eyes flicker to his darkly. He’s swallowing, staring at you like a piece of meat as you lay the trap out for him. Neither of you says anything; what should you say? One of you could be bold, could prompt a kiss or more, but you don’t. Todoroki gives a light laugh, gathering his things with a lingering hand ghosting the small of your back as you escort him out.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs lowly, and you think you could kiss him.

“Goodnight!” the door locks with a click.

Todoroki sits patiently like it's a movie theater where he's waiting for his favorite film. It’s dazzling how the curtains peel back to show your partially clothed body facing away from the glass. You only have the kitchen light on, illuminating your soft curves and tan skin better than any ring light could. Todoroki sits in the darkness, not wanting to be seen but to watch. To be an active audience member as his hand trails down to grip and stroke his cock.

Swaying your hips, Todoroki finally gets a glimpse of your sweet face. It’s different from earlier. It was much more innocent before, truly the girl next door type. But this, this? You were something absolutely out of this world; he noted it in the way your eyelids lowered as you salaciously gripped your vibrator or even the way your lingerie left nothing to the imagination.

“Fuck…” he spoke to the quiet air.

He couldn’t hear you, but it was enough to see you. Starting slowly by groping your chest, nipples peeking through the lace of your bra as his eyes continuously dip down to your pussy. Covered, but if he squinted, Todoroki thought he could see your wetness starting to soak through.

You moan, hips twitching as you tug your nipple a bit harsher than the last time. Soft lips part to breathe as a hand snakes down the valley between your breasts and down the slope of your stomach. Manicured nails stop at the waistband of your panties; your eyes seem to search across the darkness for the sight of your lover boy. For a second, you think you see a turquoise eye in the darkness as your fingers make quick work on your clit.

You both know you’re staring right at each other, and neither can look away as your hands cover themselves in slickness and arousal. It’s heady and so risky with such open windows, and yet your orgasms are driving you toward the edge faster than you’ve ever felt before.

“God, I wish I could feel you,” Todoroki groans, thumb rubbing the slit and feeling his abs tighten, “I need you.”

“Oh god, I’m gonna cum Todoroki,” you pant into the open air, squirming and fucking yourself on your fingers and toy.

It comes all at once, spurting onto the web of his thumb and fingers as Todoroki cums to your wriggling form. It overwhelms you, too, body arching and seemingly bursting with pleasure when you reach your peak. You both came quicker than expected, your legs falling closed as you steadied your breathing. Even under the low light, the clear droplets of your arousal staining the carpet makes Todoroki’s balls ache.

You’ve won again. You’ve once again captured the heart and dick of Shoto Todoroki, and he can feel the feelings ruminating inside him as you playfully clean up your living room. His eyes track your figure like he’ll forget you the minute he blinks. This can’t go on any longer; both of you know this. But then you’re drawing the curtains, and the show ends.

By the evening, Todoroki sets a plan to get exactly what he wants. And you’re none the wiser.

It’s been a while since the two of you had crossed paths. Your work has stolen your energy, leaving you to come home exhausted and weary every day. Normally you’d perk up at seeing the boy you’d come to feel warmth for if you even caught him, but his life seemed to be getting in the way. He always kept his curtains closed these days.

Then, you notice it on your day off, cozy in a sweatsuit with a mug of steaming coffee. The curtains are open, which leaves his apartment looking like a ghost town. It’s been a moment since you’ve seen the light filter in like that since you’ve felt that familiar feeling brewing at the bottom of your stomach.

Your body sits on the plush couch, sipping your drink and waiting patiently. You’re giddy as Todoroki walks into view. The show is about to start, and unlike you, he’s making sure to give an eyeful. He’s never looked more confident; in fact, he’s never put himself on display like this.

Was he really doing this all for you?

The thought is forgotten as a black t-shirt is peeled off to show rippling muscles and brown nipples that pebbled as he rubbed over his chest. He was carved to perfection, maybe by God himself. Todoroki starts slow, blunt nails scratching lightly over his pecs, down his abs, and stopping at the band of his sweatpants.

He looks up at you through his bangs and your pussy throbs. The man flicks his hair back, hand gliding and palming his cock over the thick fabric. Todoroki must’ve already worked himself up, you note as you watch his half-hard cock create a sizable imprint in his sweats.

You’re biting your lip, trying not to reach down and touch yourself. He looks so enticing. Part of you wants to jump up and break down his door, pulling him into a sharp kiss as he…

Todoroki moans behind the glass, head tilting back as his Adam’s apple bobs. You can’t see exactly what he’s doing, but it’s enough to make you feel… hot. Almost angry, he had the nerve to touch himself in front of you yet play shy when you were face to face. If he was going to be so bold as to unashamedly stroke himself, you’d be even bolder by darting up out of your seat and running out the front door.

You miss his smirk as he pulls on his shirt and waits for the piercing sound of your knuckles rapping against the door. After a moment, he hears it and steadily opens it with a teasing smile.

“Hello,” he greets casually, despite the erection straining the front of his pants.

Neither of you can wait anymore as you nearly tackle him with a kiss. He easily holds you, big hands cupping your waist and pawing at your ass. It’s desperate; it’s passionate. Todoroki grunts as his back hits his kitchen island, “do you wanna do this right now?”

“I don’t think I can wait,” your lips graze over him, “I know you need me.”

Todoroki pulls you closer till his leg slides between yours. The small motion makes you lose focus at the delicious pressure against your clit; your arms delicately wind around his broad shoulders as he bruises your lips with another kiss.

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” he murmurs, spit slicking his lips.

  His tongue, pink and sweet, glides over yours like butter. The two of you fight to win, each trying to usurp the power of the other and take control. You scratch against his back, Todoroki presses his leg against your soaked pussy, and your hand sneaks down to squeeze his cock that soaks pre-cum into his boxers. 

At some point, it goes from a battle to simply indulging in the good feelings. Saliva pools in your mouth as you dry-hump each other like animals. Whimpers echo in the air, but he caves first.

“Wait,” he pauses, chest heaving and lips glossy, “let me…”

The small of your back meets the counter before Todoroki captures your lips in another kiss. He’s grown confident, fingers cradling your wrist and hands fondling your tits.

“Ah! Todoroki,” your body melts easily into his palm, “take me, god. I’ve been waiting long enough.”

“Have you? I think I’ve waited for longer,” his teeth graze over the curve of your neck, “you started it.”

His hands expertly sneak up your shirt within minutes; it makes you wonder what else he’s hiding from you. Your fingers curl into his hair easily. Tugging lightly, the pleasure and blushed face of the man before you made your core throb.

“Then let me finish it,” you murmur softly, hand sliding down to his sweatpants.

“Mhm,” the two of you stare at each other as your hand slides past the cotton barriers to touch smooth, hot skin.

Then, his eyes look blown out, and his hands are spinning you around so fast you nearly get whiplash. Excitement shakes through your body like bursting fireworks as you help tug down your bottoms. 

Large hands eagerly spread your ass, Todoroki watching your hole clench and drip arousal down your thigh. His mouth instinctually waters, and his knees want to give in. You would taste so sweet. Todoroki can’t keep his eyes off your drooling pussy. You’re mewling, though, impatient as a thumb runs over your slit before rubbing tight circles against your clit, “You’re so beautiful.”

He slips a finger in, leaving your words choked and broken, “T-thank you.”

“Of course, baby,” he hopes the nickname lands, “oh, you liked that.”

It’s embarrassing to hear the squelch of his fingers inside you. You clench easily at his motions when he flicks his fingers up harshly or calls you such sweet names. Even he chuckles at your obvious arousal.

“Shut the hell up…!

You still squeak as he fingers your cunt. His fingers are reaching spots that even yours couldn’t; it feels so good. One hand of his keeps you pinned by the small of your back while the other eagerly reveals the wet and clicking sounds of your pussy.

“I wouldn’t be so rude.”

The smack against your ass makes stars burst behind your eyes. You could cum like this in minutes.

“Please, Todoroki,” you weakly beg for mercy, needing nothing more than to feel the primal thrusts of him fucking his cum into you.

“Fuck,” he breathes into your neck, “I need to fuck you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you do,” breathless, you go up on your tiptoes, “Please fuck me, Todoroki.”

He hadn’t even prompted you to beg, yet you acted perfectly like his own awaiting toy. Todoroki can’t line himself up against you fast enough, blunt head pressing against your needy hole while you try to breathe through the inevitable stretch.

You were prepared well. The stretch of his cock as he slowly slides into you feels like magic, and you’re keening like you’re in heat. It’s hot, overwhelming, it smells like his apartment, and he was balls deep inside of you.

“Aah, fuck,” his voice warbles, fingers leaving clear prints on your rounded hips.

“So good, god, so good!”

There’s a soft “pap” when his hips meet yours, but then he’s immediately diving into both of your pleasures. He dials in with thrusts, shaking you and churning your insides while you can only grab for purchase against the counter.

It leaves you breathless, and you’re squeezing like a vice around him as he pumps in and out of you. It’s a delicious rhythm; the push and pull are so terribly addicting that you can feel the swirl of your orgasm at the pit of your stomach.

“You’re squeezing me so tight; gonna cum? Gonna cum all over my cock?”

You babble nonsensically as he reaches around to rub your clit. His hands slip over your clit, but he can see your manicured toes curling as he makes you succumb to him.

“Todoroki, Todoroki! I’m cumming–oh god, I-I’m cumming!”

For a minute, everything goes blank. As if you’ve been flashbang.

“Good girl,” Todoroki whispers in the shell of his ear as he chases his own pleasure, “You’re so good for me.”

It crashes down onto you hard. Your entire body trembles, muscles locking up as you cum hard, creaming on him as he watches in awe. Todoroki releases a heavy groan as he finally fills you. It’s white-hot, and he heaves over you. His heavy body completely smothers you in a way that feels reassuring. In a way that feels loving.

The two of you lay still in the post-coital glow, catching your breaths and murmuring soft words. “Let me get you a tissue,” he says as he kisses your shoulder.

You’re unsure why your heart aches as he cleans up your tender pussy and picks up your bottoms.

“Hey, you know I….”

Todoroki raises an eyebrow as you trail off.

“I’m not that kind of woman,” you say with an air of finality, “just so you know.”

The man before you blinks before giving you a genuine smile.

“I never thought you were.”

You leave soon after, giving him a sweet kiss and quickly bounding to your apartment. In the evening, Todoroki catches you crossing your living room. You pause, smiling, before blowing a kiss and shutting the blinds.

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

ANAKIN SKYWALKER who pissed you the fuck off. Who’s earned himself a one-way trip to the doghouse. Who tries to talk his way through the silent treatment, everything from questions to pleas to shouting. You won’t have it, and it kills him to be ignored.

“Well, fine! Be that way.” he announces loudly throughout the house, storming to the opposite side to leave you completely alone. He punishes you for being upset with him, for needing space from him. Your unhealthy response is met with his in poetic turn.

He sleeps by himself that night. Even though sleep is inaccessible, he lies on his back with his arms crossed over his chest. The delicate crease in his brow has deepened to a permanent crevice, scowling at the light fixture in the ceiling. He can’t even recall exactly what caused this disruption and he certainly doesn’t believe it’s his fault. Whatever stance he took that offended you is clearly his private beliefs and you should’ve respected that. His metal fingers tap in a wave across his bicep, and he picks up his head to glance at the doorway of the living room as if you would be there to greet him. No such thing. You’re probably fast asleep in the comforts of your shared bed, the bed you so carelessly kicked him out of.

The couch is uncomfortable. The material is smooth but naturally cold against his bare back and his thin black pants. He’s used to his many covers, and a body next to him.

A warm, smooth body. He misses it. Soft and creamy in texture, he misses the way it winds around him. But you’re being difficult. As if you’re a princess, every interaction between the two of you has been scrutinized with extreme prejudice by your judgmental eyes. You questioned his every move towards you, every touch, every word. Your wrath knew no bounds and now he’s cold and alone and it’s your fault. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t want you near him, holding him, running your hands through his hair. He doesn’t want your massages that release muscle tensions he didn’t even know he had, he doesn’t want your kind smile against his ear as you whisper your dirty little secrets, he doesn’t want your experienced hand running down the hair at his abdomen to caress him through his sleepwear.

You’ve had a prissy little attitude he could fuck out of you, if he wanted to. His grip on his bicep tightens, sharp spite taking root within his heart as he curses himself in Huttese. There’s a dirty word he’d like to call you right now, he’d like to sneer it in your face in a language you can’t understand just so you can be offended without reason. It’ll give you a taste of the betrayal’s he’s felt this night.

The chaise he lays on is not long enough for his body, his bare feet hang off the arm rest, and he shifts so he can plant them there. Once properly leveraged, he straightens his legs so he pushes himself up to more of a sit as a sneer twitches at the corner of his nose. He has half a mind to go disturb you while you peacefully slumber, interrupt you with his jealousy over your comfort and demand that if you have a problem with him that you should be the one to leave. You’d fit on this useless couch anyway. A yelling match would surely ensue; he’d be able to raise his voice over yours and finally make you understand his point of view. You’d be so eager to make it up to him, so keen to please him that you’d do anything, wouldn’t you? Pondering its possibilities has his left hand lured to the sudden ache between his legs.

You’d be so broken up over how coldly you’ve treated him, you’d spoil him. You’d pamper him with apologies and compliments he’d ignore, you’d beg to rub his sore shoulders and arms so that he’d look at you again. Kisses would be planted wherever you could reach, and he’d direct you with a palm on your head to where your lips belong. Sweetly you’d worship on his manhood, coaxing him to attention with patience and enthusiasm until he’s ready to free it. Wouldn’t matter how long he’d let you perform for him, you wouldn’t say a word about rushing him. Briefly, he considers the notion that you’d let him bat it against your cheek, and rub it on your face. He’d hump your head just to see the thick mix of fluids coat your pretty features. If he’s feeling particularly vengeful, he might fuck your throat with the intent to hurt, the intent to choke. You’d have to campaign for his mercy by flattering for his ego because if you’re too pitiful he’ll be too inclined to suffocate you with his every inch plugging your airway. Big hands at the back of your head to keep you pinned while you sputter and spray around his base. Your mess of stringy saliva would dribble down his balls and catch on the hair on his thighs.

A noise of the house creaks and his eyes fly open. His hand has come to caress himself, balled around his solid shaft that pulses with need. He can practically feel the blood pump through it, the sensitive skin burning for relief as he’s rawed it against the material of his pants.

He pushes through the discomfort, and plunges the hand down his waistband, fisting his red hot cock with a callused grasp.

[onlyjaeyun]

[ 12:45pm ] 𝙨𝙞𝙢 𝙟𝙖𝙚𝙮𝙪𝙣 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙥𝙪𝙨𝙨𝙮 𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙝𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙖𝙨𝙩!𝙮𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙚, 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮, 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜

"your nose is so pretty."

you find yourself mumbling at your boyfriend before your brain can even overthink those words and yet you're glad you didn't hesitate.

there's absolutely no reaction from jaeyun for a whole minute as you absentmindedly trace his sharp features with your fingers, not quite able to handle just how handsome he is.

you've been observing his side profile for a while now and every time your eyes found their way to his nose, you couldn't help but bite your bottom lip at the mental image of its tip nudging against your clit whenever he's got his face buried in your cunt.

jaeyun's been playing his video game for about an hour now and despite wanting to give him some space, you simply couldn't resist the craving of being close to him.

it's not like he minds your presence at all; jaeyun loves having your legs in his lap and your hand in his hair, playing with the soft strands as he enjoys his daily screen time away from all of his responsibilities.

usually you're quick to fall asleep, yet this time you seem to focused on him to even let the actual thought of sleep cross your mind.

you know it's because you can't stop thinking about your boyfriends plump lips, his hot tongue and his perfect nose, your head full of thoughts about how good he makes you cum over and over again once he's gotten a taste.

whereas jaeyun remains absolutely clueless. he's also a little too focused to pay complete attention to your words but he does appreciate your conpliment a lot. growing up it's always been a little difficult for him to like his nose since it's on the bigger side and not quite what people necessarily find attractive, until the two of you started dating and you've made it your mission to let him know just how perfect he is.

jaeyun places a quick kiss of gratitude into your palm before he pushes his lips into a thoughtful pout and focuses on his game again, not realising how much you've been pressing your thighs together in hopes of releasing some of the pressure on your needy cunt.

there's just something about the way he scratches the sides of his nose whenever he's slowly getting excited, poking the inside of his cheeks with his tongue and nibbling on his lip like he's purposely trying to torture you.

"yunie", you mumble and reach for his hand, grateful he's quick to play into your neediness as he grabs your inner thigh and gently strokes your skin, "i wanna ride your face, please."

usually you're not one to be this bold with your requests but after watching him for the past hour it's been incredibly hard for you to maintain your composure and even your patience has limits.

jake is absolutely stunned at your words. for a second he's not sure if he even heard you right, giving you a double take just to realise your current state.

eyes glossy, lips pushed into the cutest pout, thigh firmly pressed together and your cute nipples poking through the fabric of your pyjama shirt to the point where not a single thought is left to imagination.

just out of curiosity jaeyun lets his hand wander in between your legs, gulping harshly at the way they fall apart like you've been waiting to be relieved and once his fingers graze your soaked panties, he knows exactly why you're reacting the way you do.

without even missing another beat, jake throws his controller as well as his headset to the side, turning his game off and almost instantly laying on his side of the bed.

"i'm sorry for not realising sooner, baby", he whispers as you shakily make your way to straddle his handsome face, his cheeks and lips tinted in the sweetest shade of pink, "there you go, good girl."

his praise elicits a soft whimper from your throat, your hole clenching in absolute despair and the second the tip of his nose grazes your flesh, you throw your head back with a loud moan of relief.

"fuck, baby", jake grunts against your cunt, his tongue lapping up your sweet juices and if it wasn't for his tight grip on your waist, you would have thought he passed out, "you're so wet for me, angel girl, so perfect."

all you can do is whimper in response, grabbing a fistful of his dark hair and grinding yourself against his tongue, whining every time his nose nudges your hardened clit.

"that's why you love my nose so much, hm?", jake smiles and pushes his tongue inside of your clenching hole, groaning and moaning against your wet flesh like a man gone mad.

"mhm, y-yes", you whisper and feel the sweet sensation of your release climbing up your spine in the sweetest way possible, "love sitting on it."

and for a moment jake's movements stop, as he appreciates your sweet compliment, head cloudy from all the arousal floading his brain and his cheeks burning from excitement.

"that's my good girl", he grunts and finally wraps his lips around your sensitive clit before he pushes the tip of his tongue against the nub and applies just the right amount of pressure, making sure to have you cum all over his face to make you feel as lover and appreciated as he does.