#fic: sour undertones

[andypantsx3]

READY OR KNOT | 2 | TODOROKI SHOUTO x READER

SUMMARY: Todoroki Shouto is so unsettlingly beautiful, you’re certain he has to be an omega. That is, until a chance encounter with a pushy alpha reveals you were incredibly mistaken—and the surprises don’t stop there. Shouto's suddenly mystifying behavior adds another layer of complexity to an already confusing inter-agency investigation. It would be so much easier to figure things out—and suppress your growing feelings—if only Shouto would stop being so strangely attentive to you... TAGS/WARNINGS: pro hero au, fem + afab reader, omegaverse, alpha shouto, beta reader, misunderstandings, courting behavior, slightly case fic-y, undertones of sexual violence (not between main pairing), aged-up characters, eventual smut, 18+ minors please dni! LENGTH: 4.9k, 2nd of 7 chapters

It turned out it was not so easy to forget what had happened with Shouto. Especially when Monday morning rolled around, and with it, some very pressing questions about the party.

Mina found you first thing in the morning, already up to your eyeballs in the case file at your desk. A frown marred her pretty mouth as she rounded the corner into the case analyst area. She neatly dodged your deskmate’s ginormous stack of paperwork, nearly as tall as she was, eyes homing in on you like dark little missiles.

“I heard about what happened with Suzuki,” she said, looking you over with uncharacteristic concern. Her eyebrows were drawn, her features pinched. It was an expression that didn’t overtake her cheerful visage all too often. “Are you okay?”

You blinked up at her, the name escaping you for a moment, until you matched it up with the support alpha from the party on Friday. Your lips downturned in reflexive distaste.

“I’m fine. You must have heard that Shouto scared him off,” you answered. “All he really managed to do was imply some stuff.”

Mina’s eyebrow twitched, like she had more questions on that, but she dutifully adhered to the matter at hand first. “I did hear that and we are going to be discussing that in a second. But that doesn’t mean you’d still be okay with everything that did happen. I’ve got a meeting with HR about Suzuki this afternoon, and I’m thinking of firing him.”

You jolted, a quick pang of guilt striking through you. Firing him. That seemed a very intense option.

You thought Suzuki was an asshole, sure, and you remembered all too well the horror that had overtaken you as he’d reached for his belt. But you also knew he had been drunk out of his mind—drunk enough that he thought you were an omega of all things, somehow perceiving things that weren’t even there.

You’d thought about it a lot this weekend, running over the events in your mind, and while the whole incident left a sour taste in your mouth, you thought Suzuki probably had been close to alcohol poisoning considering how strongly he smelled of Tetsutetsu’s horrible drink. He wasn’t exactly sound of mind, the lines a little blurry.

You’d never waylaid anyone like that while intoxicated, but you had done and said your fair share of things you regretted when you’d sobered up. You didn’t know what to think.

You looked up at Mina, finding her watching you consideringly. “No?” she asked.

You scrubbed a hand over your face, unclear what the right thing was. “I saw him and he was like, really not all there, Mina. I think he should be punished for sure, but what if you gave him a warning that if this happens at all again, he’s gone?”

One of Mina’s eyebrows arched. “Shouto said he was holding you against the wall even after you said no.”

You could feel your nostrils flare in anger at the memory, the feeling of that hand against the wet patch on your shoulder, unbudging.

“He did, but he also thought I was an omega, Mina,” you said. “I think he was close to alcohol poisoning, actually. He hasn’t caused any other trouble like this, has he?”

Mina shook that head of wild pink curls. “No, he’s been a model employee thus far. But I still don’t like it. That’s not what the Pink Riot agency is.”

A sigh filled your lungs. The support of Mina and Kirishima was enough for now. “I don’t like it either. But he was drunk, and nothing did actually happen, thanks to Shouto. Give him a warning that any other tiny slip up means firing, and I will be satisfied.”

Mina looked hesitant, dark eyes searching over your face, but eventually she sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “Fine. Once and only because you’ll need an accurate record from support in your investigation and it will be harder to get if he’s gone. But he will be fired if I hear even a whiff of a rumor again.” She paused. “And you’ll have to talk to Eiji, because he’s going to like this even less than I do.”

That wrung a smile out of you.

Kirishima was a good alpha and seemed to think of the agency almost like his pack. As easygoing as he was, he guarded his people resolutely, like a farm dog patrolling a chicken coop. You could almost imagine him standing at attention, head forward and tail pointed like an arrow.

As heartwarming as that image was, that didn’t mean you wanted to be the one to tell him though. You shook your head, throwing out your hands. “Oh no. Your alpha, your problem. The one privilege of my secondary gender is I’m not part of this shit.”

Mina clucked, sighing. “He is my problem.”

You laughed, knowing very well she’d know how to solve it. But her expression shifted, suddenly looking sly, and you realized she was about to saddle you with another problem.

“You’ll have to tell Shouto then,” she said, her voice deceptively light.

You blinked, eyebrows raising. Shouto…? “Why the heck would I need to tell Shouto?”

A grin slowly crept over Mina’s mouth, and she leaned in conspiratorially, looking altogether too pleased. Her hot pink nails settled on the edge of your desk, tapping delightedly. “Because he’s your assigned supervising hero. And you’ll be seeing him again in just a few minutes.”

A sudden flurry of butterflies erupted in your stomach, your mind flashing through the feeling of Shouto over you, tall and strong and warm, pressing you carefully to the wall. You could all but feel the whisper of those pretty eyelashes on your skin, feel his careful exhale, the brush of his mouth against your throat.

Your ears prickled with heat, and you could feel your face go slack in shock. He would be here—? In front of you again?

“He’s—what?” you garbled out, trying to dispel the phantom feeling of Shouto against you.

Mina looked downright smug. “He asked to be assigned right after I spoke to him at the party on Friday. Interesting, don’t you think?”

Heat licked at your cheeks. “Is it,” you managed tightly. “That’s… nice of him.”

“Very,” Mina agreed. “Especially since I heard about what happened after Suzuki left.”

You hated her.

“I’m a beta,” you reminded her, not liking the implication.

Mina’s dark eyes rolled. “Eiji liked me even when he thought I might present as a beta.”

“That’s different,” you told her, floored that you’d sidetracked into this so quickly. “I’m actually a beta. Also what the hell are we even talking about. This is a work case.”

Mina flapped a hand at you. “I’m sure you’ll both work it very hard, very thoroughly,” she said with no small amount of relish.

You seized the case file in question, holding it up between you like a shield, flapping it at her in turn. The manila folder flopped stiffly, the pages making a sort of wobbly sound. “Why are you like this,” you hissed.

Mina’s eyes glittered, and she opened her mouth to respond, when the soft tread of a boot in the hall made her perk up. Her grin went unholy. “Speak of the devil,” she said.

Shouto certainly did not look like the devil, as he rounded the corner. The fluorescent lighting made a sort of soft halo off the glossy strands of his distinct two-toned hair, and his features were just as angelic as you remembered—finely-wrought and almost deliberately formed, as though he were sculpture from the hands of a master. He was almost too beautiful to look at this early in the morning, and you felt your breath draw up short in your lungs.

He blinked when he saw you, those heterochromatic eyes widening nearly imperceptibly as he approached.

“Morning, Shouto-kun,” she purred. You hated her.

“Good morning,” he said, his tone low and soft. Your fingers tightened on the file folder, bracing yourself against the loveliness of the sound.

A flush rose to your cheeks as you did so, and Shouto’s eyes followed you curiously. Beneath the high collar of his hero uniform, you could just glimpse a flash of his scent patches, neatly placed as usual. You wondered absently what he would smell like if you peeled them back and leaned in close. As a beta, your nose was not as good as the other genders, but if you got in close enough, and if Shouto’s scent was strong enough, you’d probably be able to tell.

He looked like he’d smell delicious.

A cackle from Mina alerted you to the horrifying fact that you’d just been staring at Shouto as he approached, mouth open and expression vacant.

“Uh… good morning,” you managed.

The corner of Shouto’s mouth quirked up, and something beneath your skin tingled in response.

“I hope you are well,” he murmured.

You could see Mina’s eyes darting back and forth between the two of you with barely suppressed glee, and a sudden bolt of shame went through you.

Just because it was super obvious how hot you found Shouto didn’t mean he felt the same. He was a fucking pro hero for crying out loud. Rescuing people was what he did—the save on Friday did not have to mean anything.

Plus, knowing for sure that he was an alpha had closed the window on your little celebrity crush. Out of the hundreds of couples you’d met in your lifetime, you’d only ever met one alpha-beta pairing—both tradition and biology seemed to win out in almost all mated pairs, alphas and omegas unable to help their inherent attraction to one another.

And with that in mind, it was actually super disrespectful of you to even think about this impending partnership in any terms less-than-professional.

You rallied yourself, inclining your head respectfully to Shouto, gesturing with the case file in your hands.

“Yep, I’m good. I’m grateful for the save and I’m sure I’ll be even more grateful for your help on this case.” You turned to your boss, routing her back on track. “Mina, what information have you shared and what do I need to get him up to speed on?”

Mina’s pout was so defined it could be seen from space. You ignored her, raising your eyebrows.

“I only put the call out to other agency heads for a supervising out-of-agency hero. Just that it’s an omega assault case possibly involving a pro, and your name as the lead investigator.”

Your gaze returned to Shouto. He was still watching you intently.

“How much time do you have before you’re needed back at your agency?” you asked him. “Do you want to grab a conference room and I’ll get you up to speed? I’m sure Mina has a lot to do just now.”

He nodded, his hair falling into his eyes in a way that should not have wrung the oxygen out of the atmosphere, but did. “I am on patrol after lunch, but I’ve asked that my schedule be cleared until then.”

Perfect. Plenty of time. You stood, hefting the case file with you, clearly dismissing Mina, who looked put out.

“Great, I’ll show you to the conference room then,” you said. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Mina flashing you a pink finger, and you could easily guess which one. You stuck out your tongue at her as you passed Shouto so he couldn’t see, not above pettiness.

You gestured Shouto into one of the smaller rooms across the floor with especially good soundproofing, holding the door open for him. You sucked in a breath as he brushed past you, trying not to admire how tall and broad he was, the way those shoulders spanned the breadth of the doorway.

Shouto took a seat and you spread the case file out before him, trying not to look down at him as he glanced up at you. His fingers twitched on the conference table, like he was holding them in place. You carefully retreated to a safer distance, hoping you hadn’t annoyed him.

“Okay so the basic brief is as Mina said. There have been multiple reports of a suspected pro harassing omegas late at night in Bunkyo. Initially they were identified as a masked male wearing scent patches, roughly five foot ten, always wearing some dark jacket. But the suspected hero element came into play late last week when they attempted to strap quirk suppressors on their target. The omega in question had a vapor quirk so she was able to dissolve and escape before he did.”

Shouto’s eyes tracked you as you spoke, solemn and attentive.

“So far the suspect has not shown any signs of a quirk himself, and without any scent ID it’s hard to know what secondary gender to look for. Our best option is to work the possible-pro-hero angle and rule out who we can, since that’s all the identifiable detail we have on this guy at this time.”

Shouto nodded, propping an elbow on the table. You tried to ignore how even that small gesture made him look like a center spread in Heroes Illustrated.

“I’d like to read the individual reports and hear your plan once I have,” Shouto said.

You perked up, pleased with the terms he was speaking in. A good case analyst always had at least a sketch of a plan—what order to speak to specific people in, which angles had highest priority of investigation, and how the labor could be divided and work double-checked.

Most heroes were people of action and hated having to be corralled into approaching cases like some sort of assignment, instead of busting in and blowing things apart. But it was the best way to make sure all avenues were investigated thoroughly and that work was peer-reviewed in case someone missed something.

Shouto’s phraseology told you he was familiar with approaching cases like this, meaning he probably listened to the Todoroki agency analysts. You’d never worked closely enough with him before to know, only trading high-level information back and forth on a couple of joint cases, presenting findings in a meeting room stuffed full of Pink Riot and Todoroki agency heroes.

You found yourself smiling faintly.

“I’ll get you some coffee while you read. Everything is in chronological order in the file and I’ve tabulated some notes,” you said. “How do you take yours?”

Shouto’s gaze slid over you, careful and assessing. He paused. “I’ve been told I should not share that information.”

Your eyebrows went up. “Your… coffee order?”

Shouto nodded seriously. “Bakugou says it’s disgusting and embarrassing.”

Bakugou—pro hero Dynamight, that was—was Kirishima’s best friend, a loud alpha of an explosive manner and incendiary opinions who often showed up unprompted at the agency to stomp around and mean mug, all the while hiding that he was attempting to press leftovers on Kiri and Mina. You laughed, curious what Bakugou had browbeaten another pro over.

“Your secret will be safe with me,” you said coaxingly.

Shouto blinked, mouth quirking slightly again. He looked like he genuinely liked the idea of that, and your stomach fluttered in response.

Of course then he opened his mouth and provided a rundown of the inhumanly numerous sugars and syrups he liked, such that it constituted more of a soft drink than a coffee order. You tried to keep your eyebrows from creeping up into your hairline, smothering a laugh.

That was so unexpectedly cute. Especially for an alpha.

“One coma-inducing order of sugar with a splash of coffee, coming right up,” you saluted him.

He did something with his face that was a cross between a tiny smile and a pout, and you threw yourself out the door before you dissolved into a puddle of goop.

You went down to the cafe that operated out of the ground floor of the Pink Riot building, a favorite lunch spot of most of the heroes for how enormous their sandwiches were. The order took a fair few minutes, as it took the barista a good while to pump in the zillions of requested syrups, his eyebrows raised nearly to the moon as you recited them.

When you returned to the conference room, Shouto was already well into the case file. He glanced up as you entered, those heterochromatic eyes pinning you with an unexpected intensity. You started, wondering if you’d done something wrong.

But then his mouth slid into another tiny smile, and he looked so genuinely pleased to see you—or the coffee cup—you found yourself helplessly smiling back.

After depositing his cup next to him, you fetched your laptop and emailed Shouto’s agency the case files while he read. You wrote up the preliminary notes you’d been able to pull together on the case—a list of three agency heroes whose exact whereabouts had been accounted for during one or more of the incidents, who were therefore not on your list of possibilities.

Shouto was staring at you when you shook yourself out of work mode an hour later, quiet and intent. You startled, jumping in your seat.

“Oh my god—I’m sorry—did you say something? I didn’t mean to ignore you,” you said.

Shouto shook his head, another smile quirking that perfect mouth. That expression was growing familiar. “I have just finished,” he said.

A sense of relief washed over you. “Okay great. Did anything stick out to you that you think I’ve missed so far?”

“No,” he murmured. “Your work is very thorough. I would like to hear your plan.”

His tone was low, almost appreciative, and you tried not to let it go to your head.

“Okay, then we’ll begin with the active duty and equipment logs,” you told him. “I’m already through all of the duty logs available, but I still need the one from Thursday when the last incident happened—it’s supposed to be ready this afternoon. That will rule out a few heroes, and the equipment logs can tell us more about who had what out during the time of the attacks—I think we start with the heroes who had suppressors on them then.”

Shouto nodded, looking like he was following along. “You want to narrow the pool before you speak to anyone in case you arouse suspicion.”

You nodded, pleased he understood. “Yes.”

That blue and gray gaze nearly pinned you to your seat. “That is smart.”

A sudden wash of heat licked up your spine, pooling in your limbs. You struggled to keep your face neutral, your ears burning. “Th—thanks.”

“Who have you ruled out so far?” he asked.

You turned your screen to him, showing the notes you’d drawn up. “Kiri’s clear—no shock there—Tetsutetsu, and Tetsu’s sidekick who was with him on a cleanup during the first incident. I’m hoping Thursday’s log will clear at least one or two more.”

Shouto inclined his head in agreement. “And your interview plan?”

You smiled, and scrolled down to your notes on that, pleased at how he was letting you lead the investigation. He listened intently as you walked him through an outline, double-checking that everything worked with his schedule.

As you talked, he offered a few suggestions of his own, but he mostly seemed content to follow your outline—completely unlike even the most agreeable of the Pink Riot agency alphas. In fact it was so contradictory to everything you’d experienced thus far that you found your gaze darting to his scent patches over and over again, as if assessing whether they were really covering up an alpha scent.

But no—you had felt the pull of his Order under your skin on Friday. You, a beta, naturally resistant to Orders in the way omegas weren’t. And you’d gone so boneless against him, too, affected by his proximity in the most embarrassing way. Shouto was definitely an alpha, with that kind of pull—and probably a preternaturally strong one at that.

But he was also just—your eyes drifted to his coma-inducing coffee cup—kind of a strange one, too.

The two of you discussed the case for a few more minutes—until your stomach growled, loud enough to interrupt your planning, and the corner of Shouto’s lips lifted again.

“Would you like to finish up over lunch?” he asked, saving you the embarrassment of excusing yourself.

You grinned. “I think my stomach already answered for me,” you agreed.

Shouto helped you reorganize the paper files and lingered over you as you locked them into your desk cabinet, waiting for you patiently. Then he let you lead him downstairs to the cafe. You were conscientious of not standing too close to him in the elevator, all too aware of him in that tiny, enclosed space.

When you made it down to the ground floor, Shouto surprised you by steering you over to one of the tables, bidding you to sit.

“What do you enjoy here?” he asked, looking down at you expectantly. “I would like to get it for you.”

You shook your head. “Actually, I’m pretty sure I should be treating you for the save. How about you tell me what you want?”

Those heterochromatic eyes blinked down at you, and a tiny crease appeared between Shouto’s eyebrows. His mouth turned down. Against the subtlety of his expressions thus far, the look appeared almost distressed. “I insist,” he said, something strange in his tone.

“Shouto, really, I—-”

“I insist,” Shouto said, a little more firmly. There was the flicker of something strange under your skin again, like the tiny molecules of your body shifting in response to him.

You froze, startled, and your mouth opened for you before you realized what you were doing. “I—a pesto sandwich—”

You clamped your mouth shut, mystified.

But Shouto looked pleased. He smiled, wider than you had seen so far, a devastatingly handsome quarter-moon sliver that sent your pulse pounding in your ears. You watched him turn and walk off, something you might have said was almost smug in his step, had you known him better.

You sank into one of the seats, befuddled by what had just happened.

Shouto returned a few minutes later with water and an order number, placing the bottle in front of you like an offering. You regrouped, thanking him, then raised your eyebrows as he leaned forward, looking serious.

“I have been wanting to ask. Where does the alpha who harassed you work?” he asked, his tone dropping low. A strip of afternoon sunlight caught in his hair, dancing like flickering flames in the strands of scarlet, liming them in an orange glow.

He was beautiful in the sun, and it took you a minute to reroute your brain from his face to his question.

“Suzuki’s in support,” you said. “But Mina’s disciplining him, and I don’t have to see him often. I do expect he’ll behave after this. But why do you ask?”

Shouto frowned, leaning in closer. “Support maintains the equipment logs.”

It was the same at the Pink Riot agency too. “I—well, yes, but—”

“I should like to be there when you go to support,” Shouto said, catching your eye. His expression shifted into something solemn, his mouth a flat line.

You waved your hand dismissively. “I appreciate it, but don’t worry. He’s not gonna do anything, it’s literally just logs—”

“I must insist,” Shouto said again, his tone soft but unmistakably firm. His fingers flexed tightly where they rested on the edge of the table, the knuckle of his index turning white.

Despite yourself, his concern warmed you, that hot, tingly feeling heating your ears again.

“I really would be okay,” you said. “But if it means something—I’ll wait until tomorrow when you get here?”

Shouto nodded. “I would like that very much.”

A smile teased at your mouth. Now that was stereotypical alpha behavior, much as you appreciated his concern. Suzuki wasn’t going to jump you over a log file in a workplace—especially not after Mina had taken him to task. Shouto’s concern was unnecessary, but so very typical of an alpha. It felt familiar, like Kirishima’s brand of protectiveness over his tight knit agency, you thought. Harmless and well-intentioned.

A tray being placed on your table cut off any response you might have given, and your eyes blew wide as you registered the amount of food on it. Your mouth dropped open when a second tray was placed alongside the first one, the cafe worker smiling down at Shouto before she left, clearly recognizing him.

Shouto looked down at the food, his features arranged in minute shock.

“I do not remember ordering this…” he said, glancing at his receipt slip. You watched as his eyebrows furrowed slightly, that crease appearing between them again as his eyes flickered over the order. Then he cut himself off, those long eyelashes fluttering. “I… apologize.”

Apologize? Meaning, he had ordered this?

“You bought all this?” you asked, floored.

Shouto gave a tight nod. “It… would seem so.”

Your gaze picked over the trays again. They were piled high with at least six sandwiches, several pastries, a takeout container of soup, four different kinds of cookies, two fruit cups, and a handful of the granola bars they kept by the register. It was a literal mountain of food, and you sort of doubted even a pro hero could put that much away in one sitting.

“If you were so hungry we could have come down so much earlier,” you insisted, but Shouto’s embarrassed expression only deepened.

“It is… not for me,” he said slowly. It looked like it pained him to admit it.

You blinked, drawing back in your seat. “It’s…..me?”

Shouto nodded seriously.

A shocked laugh leapt out of you, bright and pleased. “Shouto, I was hungry but this is like, eleven meals!”

“You will have leftovers, then,” Shouto replied, sounding embarrassed. The tips of his ears were red where they peeked through his mop of multicolored hair.

You were so suddenly, utterly charmed by him, a splash of warmth pooling in your stomach, flooding through your limbs. You had absolutely no idea what had possessed him to do this, but it was undeniably sweet. Coupled with the easy way he’d let you take the lead on the investigation, and the way he’d moved to protect you on Friday night—it all painted a portrait of a very good, very kind sort of person.

You’d really lucked into a good partnership. You were grateful.

“Thank you, Shouto,” you said sincerely. A hint of a flush colored his high cheekbones, and he nodded.

You decided not to press him anymore, setting aside your speculation for when he’d gone. Instead, you unearthed your requested sandwich from the mound of food, and selecting a pastry at random. Shouto watched you as you bit into your food, a strange sort of intensity in his gaze.

Eventually, however, he took his own food, and the two of you chatted as you ate, moving on from the case to discuss his patrol, your shared friends, and a slew of other silly topics. You found him just as easy to talk to outside of case work—he had the same straightforward way of approaching life as he did his casework, his outlook consummately honest and thoughtful.

You regretted it when Shouto eventually had to excuse himself for patrol, but not before disappearing and reappearing with a takeout containers and a bag for all the things he’d ordered you, which he carefully but insistently packed away, before putting in front of you with a meaningful look.

You laughed again, taking the bag from him as you got up to make your way back upstairs as well.

“Thank you for lunch,” you told him, trying to convey how sincerely grateful you were. “I’m looking forward to our partnership.” You stuck out your hand to him, smiling up at him.

Shouto’s expression didn’t change much, but his mismatched gaze grew warmer where it rested on you. “As am I,” he said, tone soft.

Long fingers curled around yours, and for a moment you felt that same, weak-kneed desire to collapse against him as you had on Friday. It took an inordinate amount of focus to pump his hand in a handshake, and even more willpower to let him go.

You waved him off, and watched him go, feeling a strange sense of emptiness as that broad back disappeared through the door. In just a few short hours, it seemed, Todoroki Shouto had dug himself a comfortable little spot in your heart—far deeper than a case partner should have.

You ruminated on this as you made your way back upstairs, mind running over the events of the last few days. You couldn’t figure out why Shouto was having a weirder effect on you than any other alpha, even accounting for his unearthly good looks, nor why he seemed to be equally lost today—ordering a zillion things without even realizing he’d done so.

As you made your way back to your desk and cracked open the case file again, you resolved to solve this mystery as well. You were good at getting to the bottom of things—and Todoroki Shouto would be no exception.

[cyberpxnk]

jealous | song mingi (1/2)

♡ part two

♡ pairing: mingi x fem! reader (afab) ♡ chapters: 1 out of 2 ♡ word count: 3.9k ♡ rating: mature/18+ (minors dni) ♡ genre: pwp, smut, established relationship 

♡ synopsis: choi san finds great fun in trying to seduce mingi's girl on the daily. on one particular night, you're left to deal with the consequences of san's actions after their concert. waiting alone in the dressing room, you fear that you're in for a wild ride.

♡ warnings/tags: idol! mingi, rengoku hair! mingi, brief mentions of ateez, smut, shameless tbh, jealous behavior, possessive behavior, sweaty mingi, san is a little shit but he means well, a lil bit of man handling, size kink, mingi GOT THE SCHLONG, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, praise, name calling, spanking, bruising, biting, hair pulling, slight dom/sub undertones, slight voyeurism

♡ author’s note: 

kinda proof read but not rly tbh

howdy, folks! this is my first time posting in the ateez writing community, so i hope this is to everyone’s liking. i haven’t written anything in a few years but the creative juices have been flowin lately !! 

this is also cross posted on my ao3, if you would like to support me there as well. this was originally a one part fic, but i’m currently in the midst of finishing up the second and final chapter. thank you and happy reading! comments r greatly appreciated :plead: :3

Swarmed by hundreds, your body is rocking amongst many others as the sounds of singing and shouting fills the air. The music is loud and pulsing through your ears, yet you feel at home within the crowd of fans. You don’t think you will ever get tired of seeing the boys perform live, despite spending nearly every waking moment around them. Similarly, Mingi is with you almost everyday yet you can never stop yourself from marveling at the sight of his lithe figure. It’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time ever with each new day.

With your hungry eyes following the fluid movements of his hips, he easily sways to the current song’s beat as he begins to drift further from your peripherals, heading toward the opposite side of the stage. Soon after his disappearance another figure soon comes into your view, their laced boots firmly planted on the stage in front of you. Even as those around you stir with excitement, your gaze barely strays from Mingi.

Only until hearing the screams erupt louder around you do you reluctantly tear your eyes away from his retreating back. Always being good at eliciting reactions from the fans, San’s sensual movements don’t go unnoticed by you or those surrounding him. The performer loved to get a rise out of making his fellow member jealous, although you were immune to his charms after many years of his ceaseless teasing.

To you, his flirting is almost always harmless and mostly just a hoax to get under Mingi’s skin. You can’t help but to roll your eyes at his obvious antics in trying to rouse you, but he instead begins to attract the aforementioned rapper back over to your corner. The male before you gyrates once more, hoping to further divert your attention from Mingi. It doesn't seem to take long for the other man to catch on as he practically stomps his way over to San.

Even if San's action never affected you, it always left a sour taste in Mingi's mouth. His jealousy was clear as day given how he was reacting now. Unseen by the public eye, his bout of anger was unnoticed by the fans — but not to you and San. In fact, the crowd is more than delighted by his quick return. His appearance beside his band mate prompts another round of enthusiastic yelling. Those around you wave and jitter excitedly and their mass of hands reach for the two idols, their phones held high.

Mingi is hovering close to the edge of the stage, mic in hand as he dances — his movements are aggressive, his irritations evident through the flow of his rhythmic dances. He bounces on his feet, rocking back and forth while following the groove of the music. It’s then that he tips his cap up slightly, immediately meeting your eyes with his own smoldering gaze.

Look only at me. The expression on his face says enough.

You can see a sliver of his tongue peeking out beneath his teeth before a shit eating grin is plastered across his features. He and his tongue do nothing but taunt you, slipping to and from his ample lips. You can’t help the flash of vivid imagery that briefly fills your mind. Eyes fluttering just barely, you find yourself imagining the wet appendage slipping into your hot cunt — his plump lips kissing at your wet folds as he eats you out. Fuck. The heat that rises through your body is immediate and you find yourself involuntarily shouting out for the man, joining the crowd as you all bristle animatedly from his interactions. He only smirks to you, as if knowing fully well what nasty thoughts were running rampant through that pretty little head of yours.

Mingi looks sinfully delicious in the fitted monochrome attire he adorns. Even he seems to know it, easily relishing within the attention he garners. You will definitely have to thank the stylists later. Even with little skin to show, limbs covered, the straps that hook around his lean torso only further excite you and feed into your fantasies. There's nothing more you want to do than to grab at the fabric of his shirt and yank him off the stage to make out. In front of the audience, you knew if he ever had the chance he would love to absolutely fuck you mindless on the stage. You also knew his sole purpose for frequenting your side of the stage so often was to get you hot and bothered.

You hated him for teasing you; loathed him for leaving you wanting and physically aching for his touch. The deliberate and slow thrusts of his hips are meant specially for you, but his cocky antics played it all off so easily. The fans would never suspect that he danced with such passion only to wind you up. Thankfully, you were not the only one amongst the fans feeling the heat from him. However, you did have the full satisfaction of knowing that at the end of the day you would be the one he was bending over.

Upon entering the dressing room, you could already see his sweat covered figure panting; exhausted from the concert yet seemingly more than ready to jump you. His breaths are labored with a primal desire and you can feel his heated gaze heavy on you. Yourself only adorned in a strappy crop top and tight little skirt left much of your skin exposed to his roaming eyes and little to his imagination. During the entirety of the set you two had exchanged many looks of yearning. The tension gave way and it was no wonder that he was ready to fuck you here and now. It isn’t long before his towering figure is looming over you, grabbing you abruptly as he practically tosses you against the nearest wall.

"Fuck!" A sputter of profanities. With the air being knocked out of your chest, you have no time to try to recover from his actions — literally breathless against his muscular frame. You can barely react as you're thrown up against the door with your back hitting the steel surface forcefully. Only the lean of his body and his taut muscles pin you up and you're nearly slipping down the door until you're scrambling to hook your legs around his waist. His broad hands find their grip on you, one squeezing a thigh to further hoist you up before the other grasps your hair tightly.

The impact has you feeling dizzy, yet you know you should be used to Mingi's roughness by now. There is a hard tug of your locks and you find yourself craning your neck to him obediently as he directs you by your hair with ease. The delicious expanse of skin is exposed to his eager mouth and he’s leaving hot kisses along your nape. Each brush of his lips burns into your skin, a fire further igniting beneath your belly. A whine bubbles from your throat once his teeth begin to graze along your throat, nipping gingerly.

Mingi has always been needier than you; always having to touch you, always wanting to taste you, and always needing to mark you. Despite knowing this, when he bites down between the junction of your neck and shoulder particularly hard, you can't stop yourself from crying out pathetically. His tongue allows you temporary solace, lapping against the tender wound before he begins to suck at the same spot. The hickeys he enjoyed leaving on the canvas of your skin were always welcomed, only fueling the desire that has been rapidly building over the night. The skin seems to bruise tenderly beneath his touches. Each mark is deliberate. He wants everyone to know that you were accounted for, especially San.

"You're mine." The baritone of his voice sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core and you're nearly keening at his words.

"Yours," you breathily say back to him as your hands grasp his shoulders.

"That's right. You belong to me. You're mine and only mine." His lips find yours briefly before he leans up to bite your ear, his husky voice raspy and hot against you. The trickle of words that leave his mouth don't stop even as his strong hands begin to roam your body once more. One arm holds you steady against the door as the other dips between the apex of your thighs. You gasp out as his long fingers inch closer to your core, stroking along the clinging fabric of your already soaked underwear.

"Look at you. Already dripping for me. You've been wanting me to touch you all night, haven't you? My needy girl."

Another startled sound comes from you as he easily tears the flimsy cloth from your body, hastily shoving your underwear into his back pocket. You can barely utter a word, instead settling for a choked noise of surprise as two of his fingers suddenly plunge past your slick folds. The stretch is immediate and he wastes no time pumping his digits within you as his thumb circles over your clit. With your mind reeling, you can barely catch up to his actions. His fingers feel so damn good scissoring within you that any coherent thoughts you possessed swiftly diminished.

The breathy moan that falls from your lips is delectable and much louder than anticipated. You’re both well aware that anyone passing by could probably hear you two, but that only seems to encourage the man to continue his efforts. If he was going to fuck you senseless, he surely had hoped San could hear him through the walls.

"Mmm.. You like that, babe? Do my fingers feel good?" Before you can answer, his mouth slots against yours with fervor. You two are exchanging sloppy kisses, teeth knocking into each other as your bruised lips move in unison — hot and heavy with your tongues intertwining. The desperation to taste you is too much. It's evident among his greedy touches.

You're pathetically grinding against his palm, his fingers furled to press deep at the delicate tissue of your g spot. With his soaked fingers expertly delving back and forth inside you, he easily reaches spots that have you dizzy with pleasure. You're soft and pliant to his ministrations, juices audibly gushing down his wrist with every pump. The sound is embarrassing to your ears, but your writhing body spurs Mingi on as he's no sooner curling his drenched fingers harder against your arousal.

He detaches from your lips, his own lingering down your shoulder blade. His nose is grazing along your skin as you're painfully arched between him and the door. Each thrust is driving you further away from sanity, your mind hazy with lust. With your mouth agape, you cannot stop the string of garbled noises that fall from your lips. Mingi always knows how to make you fall apart at his hands. The size and thickness of his fingers were nearly enough to have your orgasm peaking, but it was never that simple with the man.

The entirety that fills you is fleeting and you're soon whining out from his withdrawal. The actions have you locking eyes with him, his pupils blown wide with lust. Breathing heavily from his swollen lips, Mingi looks frenzied the way he bores into you. You can feel him undressing you so readily with his stifling stare. He looks crazed, his fiery locks damp and wild. The sheen of sweat on his skin is smooth and his musk is heavy, intoxicating your senses.

“M-Mingi.. Please,” you mewl at him pathetically, clenching around nothing but your own heat.

“What do you want, needy girl?” Your skin feels hot from his question. You are shy to utter a response and instead squirm beneath him, hips meeting from your movement.

“You want my fingers?” He grasps your jaw with one hand, grip tightening as his thumb grazes along your mouth. You're eager to wrap your lips around his finger, tongue brushing against his digit.

“Or maybe you want me to eat that pretty pussy of yours?” A strangled noise forms at the back of your throat upon hearing his words.

“You can barely keep quiet around my fingers. Everyone is going to hear you scream if I do that.” He says such things as if the results wouldn't be the same regardless of how you came unraveled. You would take him all the same.

With the absence of his hands between your bodies, you're suddenly free to grind against his groin. You're desperate and needy for him to be closer, chasing a temporary relief from being teased toward your orgasm. The action is welcomed as you finally feel the shape of his straining erection pressed to your dripping slit. The material of his pants does nothing to hide his size, fabric growing increasingly wet from your movements.

Just as you're enjoying yourself rocking against him, you’re unceremoniously dropped by him and you're staggering to try and find your balance as your feet shakily hit the ground, knees nearly buckling.

“Mingi, what the fuck?” Hands meeting his shoulders, you're holding on as you try to keep steady.

He ignores your pestering and busies himself with removing his trousers. The sound of metal clinking is heard as his belt drops to the floor. Haphazardly he is tugging down his zipper, pants and underwear pooling at his ankles. In all his glory, he’s left standing before you as you openly ogle his well endowed size. Everything about him is so big and it turns you on immensely.

The sinful sight has your mouth going dry. It’s hard not to stare at how his swollen tip smears a trail of precum against the toned muscles aligning his stomach. You would drop to your knees then and there just for a taste, but knowing Mingi, he wouldn't allow anything of the sort whilst in charge.

“Can’t wait to take my big cock, huh?” Mingi seems extra mouthy today. You roll your eyes at his words, though they do nothing to quell the fire in your loins. It’s not long before you're closing the gap between your bodies, hands tangling within his tresses. Thankfully, he gets the message and shuts up as your mouths reconnect in a heated exchange of saliva. Tongues are met feverishly, enjoying each other's taste as you card through his hair.

Between gasps and whines, there is a playful tug on the bottom of your lip when Mingi begins to withdraw from the kiss. His hands linger along your neck, trailing to cup your cheek as his narrowed stare grows more intense with each passing second. You swallow thickly.

“Turn around and show me that ass, pretty girl,” he instructs, the low grovel of his voice shooting a tremor straight to your core. The new position you take feels vulnerable and it's evident as your thighs seem to tremble with anticipation once you've swiveled to face the door. Despite your face growing hot with embarrassment, you can't help yourself from turning slightly to try and meet his gaze with curiosity.

His eyes are zeroed in at the exposed skin beneath your skirt. From this angle he can see just how wet you truly are, your folds slick and coated with your own arousal. Large hands are soon gripping at your ass, squeezing appreciatively as he spreads them apart with a guttural moan.

“Fuck, you’re so wet… Are you this needy just for me, baby? You want me to make you cum that bad?”

You whine.

With a rough shove you stumble forward, flush to the wall with your chest against the door as the solid metal meets your torso. Mingi maneuvers you to arch forward, his feet planted between yours while he's holding you by your rear. You're whimpering against the door, expectant and ready once you feel the intimidating length of his cock finding its way between your drooling slit. He pauses for a moment, enjoying your squirming against him. 

The room almost feels too quiet, tension thick with your combined breaths as you listen to the slick movements of his erection teasing along your aching cunt. You jerk yourself back against him, forcing his tip to slide past your clit. This earns a pleased moan from you, but you're met with his disapproving tsk as he slaps your ass a single time in warning. The pain is resounding, stinging so good that you cry out for him.

“Look at you. So impatient. You can't wait until I fuck you full, huh?” The head of his dick inches past your walls. His movements still, listening to you as you try not to sob out in frustration.

“You’re going to take all of me in your tight little cunt, and I want you to scream my name so loud that San will never think to cross me again. Do you understand?” Mingi's voice rumbles deep and firm against the shell of your ear, the implications behind his words are dangerous and clear yet another wave of hot arousal courses through your body. The fresh trickle of liquid that begins to trail from your wetness down your thigh is enough to show the man just how desperate and obedient you will be for his cock.

“I said do you understand me?” He repeats himself once, voice raising as he grasps a fistful of your hair. You respond with a wince, eyes springing with tears at the sudden sting on your scalp.

“Do you?!” Another slap to your already reddening cheeks.

“Yes! I understand! P-Please, please! Mingi! I need you inside me!” You sob out to him, tears slipping down your cheeks.

"Good girl." A harsh snap of his hips forward and he's plunging himself deep within your cunt. You feel yourself stretch around the entirety of his size, eyes rolling back in pleasure as your walls wrap around his thickness. Your tears fall freely at the relief that floods your senses, reveling in how deeply he reaches within you. 

There is a mix between a wail and moan that falls from your mouth once he begins to rut himself against your backside. The pace he sets is brutal, pistoning hard into you as he shifts back and forth inside your heat.

The sound of skin slapping is loud, messy and wet, squelching with his every thrust. Gods, he felt so big inside you. Each movement is met by his labored panting, a guttural noise bubbling from the back of his throat as he angles himself to fuck into you mercilessly. He wants you to cum fast and he knows you'll be unable to last with how you're barely keeping yourself standing against the door. An arm encircles your waist, ensuring you're somewhat upright as his other is gripping your hip bruisingly.

The way his hips buck into yours drive you mad and each drag of his cock within your fluttering walls has you keening. The fullness of his size fills you so well that you can feel the pressure of his heavy length against your g spot.

“Mingi!” You scream when he pulls out of you completely before pounding back in particularly hard, making sure to hit your g spot over and over as he resumes his rhythm.

“Good girl… Taking me so well,” he growls lowly against your neck, planting hungry kisses along your nape. Where he has already marked, he begins another trail of bruises down your neck, each love bite decorating your skin in a way that satiates his possessive nature.

“S-So close, Mingi…” You whimper into the door, meeting his thrusts with your own sloppy movements. You can feel the tension coiling within your belly as he jerks into you. Your cunt is twitching wildly around his shaft, encouraging his cock with the squeeze of your folds around him.

“You gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna fall apart on this big dick?” Languid kisses follow up your ear, and his words are igniting you, fueling the flame that is your orgasm. You barely process the hand that has slipped from your ass and now lays between your legs, fingers rubbing wet and slick against your throbbing clit.

The digits that play around your button have you chanting Mingi’s name in an endless hymn, mindlessly moaning as his tempo grows erratic. He knows that you're almost there, he can feel the way your cunt is clenching him so tightly.

“Come on, pretty girl. Come for me.” The way his fingers pinch at your clit and how he fucks himself into you with reckless abandon causes you to orgasm fast and hard. Your eyes are fluttering shut and you see stars, reaching the crescendo that is your orgasm. Your pussy is spasming around him when you come, your hips weakly pushing back against his thrusts to ride your high.

With your writhing and convulsions gripping his cock, it doesn't take him long to reach his own orgasm as he chases for release. He is sloppy, frenzied and desperate as he hammers into you, pace only stuttering as he begins to spill rope after rope of his hot cum into you. He peaks with a loud groan, hands finding their way back to your ass to grip at the mounds of flesh before his movements slow to a lazy grind.

You feel him pull out of you once he's had his fill, and it has you whimpering softly as you try to ignore the feeling of his cum seeping out of you. He is huffing heavily when he turns you around to face him, hands cupping your cheeks. Mingi peppers kisses lovingly all over you before pressing his lips to yours sweetly.

“God, I love you, babe… Let's get you cleaned up.”

“I love you too, Min.”

The people that await you outside of the dressing room are not particularly pleased as the two of you step from the door, both red with embarrassment. Bowing your head and grasping Mingi’s hand, you both flee toward the room that ATEEZ occupies. It doesn’t take long to reunite with the rest of the group, but entering the vicinity, the room is silent and the tension is palpable. The resident captain seems to be fuming near the back, motioning for Mingi to come to him before he begins to scold the latter. You definitely don’t miss the scalding glare he shoots your way too.

Shuffling awkwardly you turn to face the others, and you can see that Yunho’s ears are red as he refuses to meet your eyes. You can't help but to smile sheepishly. The rest of the group seems to be idling around, either playing on their phones or chatting together quietly. Similarly, some of them barely glance to you while others offer a shy wave in greeting. It's clear to you that the rest of the members and some staff weren’t exempt from hearing your loud ass shenanigans. You knew that you and Mingi would get reprimanded for it later, but at least you got some killer sex out of it.

Amongst Hongjoong’s bickering and Mingi’s apologies, it is San who stands from the couch and clears his throat as he casually saunters over to you. An arm is thrown around your shoulder as he ducks his head down close to yours.

You see Mingi’s head whip over to your direction. San smirks.

“So, I take it the plan worked?”

You only grin back at him.

[fanaticsnail]

PAULIE for the kissin booth, please!!!! Oh, snail!!!!!! He is sooooo shyyyyyyyyyy, he would only be able to kiss someone if he forces himself so hard...

Paulie, paulie, paulieeeee 😘 come here, sweetheart!!!!!!! 💕 💕 💕

Aaaaaaah!!!! I al already screaming!!!!!!!

The Kissing Booth: Paulie for Jintaka-Hane

Word Count: 670+

Notes: Not only was this the first request for the kissing booth, but it was my first time writing for this beautiful, shy man. I hope you enjoy your kiss, @jintaka-hane You're always so beautiful in my notifications, and I adore your fics.

The blindfold brushes against your cheeks as you turn your head towards the guest in front of you. Shuffling several leaves of Berry into the glass jar at your side, you heard a small grunted cough your guest used to clear his throat. 

“I-... I-...” the low, baritone voice called out to you, stuttering and staggering over his words. “...How does this work, exactly? What do I-... How do we-...?” 

His nerves shine through in his cadence, sharp and rumbling stutters staggered in a staccato-like rattle. You smiled at him, slowly presenting your left palm out in front of you while holding your eyes shut behind your silky blindfold. 

Gently and tentatively placing his hand in yours, you heard the scuffle of the wooden barstool scoot in towards you. The scent of heady aftershave mixed with undertones of ignited tobacco flooded your senses, his aura feeling anxious and nervous with each passing moment. Lulling your head to the side, you feel his hand tremble within your own. 

“Are you okay?” you ask him in a soft hum, furrowing your brows at his apprehensive body language. You could feel the gulp he took to choke back the dry mouthful in response. 

“I’m… I just-...” he stuttered, deeply sighing and moving closer to you, “I don’t do this. Not normally, I mean. You just… You looked so…” His voice trailed off, his hand gently squeezing your fingers in reassurance. 

“So “what”?” you leaned your chin up to where his voice was lingering, “I looked so “what”?”. You could hear a soft stutter in his breath, prompting you to smile with a soft, teasing hum.

“...So beautiful,” you could feel his lips lingering with his soft whisper, “And so lonely. Like you needed me to be here.” You gently scrunch your nose playfully up at him, lulling your head to the side.

“You’re here now,” you hum at him, your lips parted and waiting, “Do you want to kiss me-?” 

“-Yes,” he hurriedly whispered to cut off your string of words, his hand gently cupping your cheek and tugging you a little closer, “So much. So, so much-.”

Without further warning, he pressed his lips to yours hurriedly and desperately. His lips were chapped, tasting of seaspray and lingering sour cigars. He whimpered into your lips, angling his chin and turning his face, pressing a flurry of peppered kisses into your lips. 

His actions felt ill-practiced and inexperienced, but his enthusiasm made up for his lack of ‘kiss-training’. Releasing your hand from his, he partnered his palm on your other cheek, drawing you in closer by cupping both sides of your face. 

You fought the urge to giggle into his lips, gently reaching forward and placing your hands on his forearms. Tracing gentle patterns onto the material of his jacket-sleeves with your thumbs seemed to ease his nerves. He relaxed into the kiss, his lips only ever parting to change angles to taste more of your lips on his.

Pulling away, he gently held your face out in front of him and paused for a moment.

“Would you mind if you took the blindfold off?” he asked, his lips almost touching your lips with every word due to his close proximity. “I want to look into your eyes. I-... I need to look into your eyes.” 

“My shift ends in a few hours here,” you uttered with a small giggle in your tone, “If you still want to see me, I’ll be standing under the ferris wheel all by myself.” 

“I’ll be there,” he whispered, scuffing the floor with the stool legs as he stood. You gently waved in his direction as he slowly fled the scene, looking over his shoulder at you as he saw your smile linger on. 

Paulie was absolutely smitten with you. Not only was he waiting beneath the ferris wheel at the end of your shift on the kissing booth before you arrived, he was holding an assortment of treats in his hands and ready to take a spin around the large mechanism with you right by his side. 

[zep-zep-blog]

This is 100% based off the song and episodes 🫡. I also might rewrite this to fit Lucifer too.

Vox x gn!reader

Genre: Angst, fluffy ending, hurt/comfort, song fic

Cw: Imposter, talk of being replaced, mind control(?), swearing, fighting

☾Seeing doubles☽

Reader and Vox are getting married, but something seems off about reader and Vox seems more laggy than usual. Is it nerves or something else?

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Velvette knew something was off. She always had a hunch about something. She knew when Valentino hid his anger or at least tried..and failed, she knew when you and Vox tried to hide your relationship at first, hell she even knew Vox wanted to marry you before he knew himself. Yet she couldn't pinpoint what was off about you and Vox. You guys acted like normal, but Vox seemed more dazed than usual and you seemed to snap at random. That definitely wasn't right, but she chalked it up to nerves or stress about the upcoming wedding and all the planning that had consumed your daily schedule.

It started off small, making comments you usually wouldn't make, having a strange aura, and overall just acting off. Then, she noticed your taste was different, liking a different flavor of cake and other desserts. Then your style was weird, you had always wanted a certain type of outfit for the wedding and yet there you stood in the bridal store wearing something you would never even look at.

Vox was no different, he always had an 'all bark, no bite' vibe, but he seemed more dazed, and laggy, and he blue-screened more than usual. Again, it could all be chalked up to wedding nerves and cold feet or whatever. But when Velvette had a hunch, it was usually right.

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She placed hidden cameras around, ones that Vox couldn't connect to. She hired imps and sinners she made deals with to follow you and Vox around. She constantly tried to keep an eye on you and it finally paid off. She had caught you talking about not loving Vox and sucking the love out of him, this confused and worried her. This person wasn't you, you loved Vox dearly and definitely showed it.

When she found this out she tried to share it with Valentino, but he was both stubborn and blind to hear her out. She tried to get through to Vox, but he lagged and shooed her away. She was frustrated and royally pissed off, someone definitely replaced you and she will get to the bottom of it.

She decided to confront your imposter at dinner before the wedding in hopes of them coming forward. Unfortunately, it ended with everyone shunning her and shutting her down. She left the restaurant pissed, no one was listening to her clearly concerning revelation. She turned the corner and was face to face with you? The imposter?

"Oh, what do you want? I know you aren't the real [Name]." She says with a sour tone.

"Oh, I just wanted to apologize." Your voice rang out, but it had a creepy undertone.

"What the fuck-" Velvette gets cut off as a ring of green fire surrounds her and her vision goes black.

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For what felt like months you were trapped, stuck in this mirror-like prison. With no light except the natural red one that reflected off the crystal-like cave walls. You felt helpless, and scared, with no idea what that monster did to Vox. She was hungry for power and love, she fed off it.

You were so excited, to walk down the aisle with your fiance. To share vows, kisses, and cake, but now? It seemed all too futile. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying tears of frustration and sadness. Your hair was messy from being kept from a hairbrush for heaven knows how long. You had a few scrapes and bruises from wandering aimlessly in the dark, unable to see where a rock or wall was.

That was how it was until you heard the familiar voice of Velvette echo through the caves. Soon she found you, her phone flashlight bouncing off the crystal walls as her eyes met yours.

"[Name]? Is that really you? You're not that prick that replaced you, right?" She asked, looking you over with concern and weariness.

You nod several times, tears welling in your eyes as you hug her. This is the first contact you had with anyone for a long time. It wasn't the warmth of Vox, but it was still comforting nonetheless.

"We have to get out of this shit hole and stop her," Velvette says, pointing her phone flashlight toward the end of the crystal tunnel.

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"This day is going to be perfect. The kind of day of which I dreamed since I was small." Your imposter said, spinning a red rose in between her fingers before putting it into the bouquet.

"Everybody will gather 'round, say I look lovely in my gown." She said, twirling in the mirror, the white lace and silk of the outfit spinning around her figure. "But, what they don't know is that I have fooled them all." She smirks, placing the matching accessory in her hair. She had successfully replaced you and would soon get what she wanted.

'This day was going to be perfect..the kind of day of which I dreamed since I was small..but, instead of having cake with all my friends to celebrate. My wedding bells, may not ring for me at all..'

You and Velvette raced desperately to find a way out, hoping to make it before your double married Vox. You feared what would happen if those vows were made before you could escape.

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"I could care less about the dress." She said, taking a seat at the vanity. "I won't partake in any cake." She took one of the makeup brushes and applied blush to her cheeks. Your replacement stood up and again did a once over in the mirror before turning to a picture of you and Vox. It was your anniversary, both of you smiling and facing the camera. "Vows? Well, I'll be lying when I say, 'That through any kind of weather I'll want us to be together.'" There was a mocking tone in her voice as she scowled at the photo.

"The truth is I don't care for him at all." She took the picture frame and shoved it into one of the dresser drawers, slamming it shut in disdain. "No, I do not love the groom. In my heart, there is no room."

'But I still want him to be all mine.'

"We must escape before it's too late, find a way to save the day." You say to Velvette, searching around for an exit to the reflective prison. She places her hand on your shoulder, breaking you out of your desperate daze. "We'll make it. Don't worry.

'Hope I'll be lying when I say 'I don't fear that I may lose him to those who want to use him. Not care for love and cherish him each day. For I-oh so love the groom. All my thoughts he does consume.'

You and Velvette finally find an exit, rushing to see the surface of hell. You hope that time will be on your side and those wedding bells won't ring soon.

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'Oh Vox, I'll be there very soon.' You pray to the same god that condemned you down here as you and Velvette weed through the streets of the entertainment district. Hoping the crowd would move faster so you could make it to the venue before your imposter made it down the aisle. You and Velvette make it to the entrance, weaving in and out of the crowd as the wedding bells ring out. You look at Velvette with wide eyes, doubt clouds hers as she realizes there's a chance you won't make it.

'Finally, the moment has arrived for me to be one lucky bride.' She smirked as she walked down the aisle, your aisle towards your future husband. Her veil trails behind her as she steps in tune with the wedding march being played.

'Oh, the wedding we won't make, he'll end up marrying a fake. Vox will be-'

'Mine. All mine.'

She gets to the alter, facing a dazed and glitchy Vox. He was clearly under some sort of magic or curse as she stood there. Right as the officiant clears his throat to start his speech you burst through the doors. The guests gasped and turned their heads, there you stood looking madder than ever. The guests looked back and forth between you and the imposter, not knowing who was real and who wasn't. The sinner in your place stared daggers at you, throwing the bouquet to the floor.

"You bitch!" You screamed, pointing fingers at your double. The room went silent, most of the crowd was shocked. "H-how are there two of you?" One of the guests shouts, causing the rest to start whispering amongst themselves.

"She's a shapeshifter! She takes any form and gains power from the love you have for someone!" This caused the fake you to cackle. She stepped forward, smashing the bouquet. "Right, you are. I've been feeding off his love for you, every second I grow stronger." She stepped towards you, green flames engulfing her as she transformed back into her original form. "He may not be my husband, but he is under my total control-" You cut her off by punching her in the face and knocking her to the floor. At this point, the only people left were you, her, and the Vees, the guests had left in a hurry as soon as she transformed.

"Fuck with me or Vox again and I'll remind you why I'm down here." You glare, your words sharp. Her eyes were wide, you had landed a hit on her when she had been practically untouchable for years. She scowled, "This won't be the last time you see me. Mark my words." With that, she disappeared into a pillar of emerald flames.

As soon as she's gone you rush to Vox's side, putting your hands on his shoulders and shaking him softly. "Vox? Vox, please snap out of it." You beg, tears starting to well up in your eyes. Your voice broke as he didn't seem to register your words. You broke down, hugging him tightly. Velvette and Valentino stood there silently as you sobbed into his shoulder, your relationship, him boiled down to nothing from the shapeshifter's doing.

In a last-ditch attempt, you kiss him, hoping it would spark something between the wires for him to snap out of it. Your hands grip his shoulders as you pull away, looking at the black screen. It flashed and he slumped into your arms with a groan.

"Vox? Vox?" You gently shake him, trying to him to look at you.

He turns his head up and looks at you in confusion, "[Name]?"

You hug him tighter, tears falling down your cheeks. Vox is super confused as to why you're crying and the fact he was in an empty wedding venue with you.

"What the- what are we doing here? Why the hell are you so dirty?" Vox pulled away and wiped your tears with his thumb. "We can talk about it later, let's just get home." You say softly, leaning your head into his touch.

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Over the next few weeks, you and Vox planned a real wedding, with the real you. You and Vox picked the right flavors and bridal outfits, happy that it was actually you two. Velvette had never seen Vox this happy and she's his business partner and one of the closest people to him this side of hell.

You finally felt at ease when you walked down the aisle with Vox, saying your vows and slipping the matching rings on. Not even a spear made from shiny angelic steel could break this.

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IT'S FINALLY FINISHED ᕙ(⍢)ᕗ Hope yall enjoy <3

Requests open!!

Tag list: @mrssabinecallas

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Heeeeey, y'all!! I'm so, so, so excited to introduce this new story to everybody! I've been having a (horny) cowboy fixation for THE LONGEST time now after seeing a fanart of cowboy!Geto by the amazingly talented @sanjisblackasswife. Please go support a fellow black woman & go check out her work! I hope y'all enjoy the first two chapters! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen PT I & PT II. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Epilogue. Soundtrack.

********

ONE: BUSINESS AS USUAL.

Another day, another face.

Another dance for a man trying to lift your dress up to get to your panties at this trashy saloon in the town of Blackwater. 

You try not to turn around and smack the customer sitting behind you reeking of whiskey and tobacco as he plays with the skirts of your short, short ruffled dress that you only lift up somewhat to show off your nylon stockings and garter belt as you wind your hips to the music playing on the piano downstairs. 

The sounds of the smooth piano tune and the miscellaneous chatter from the saloon are the only things keeping you from losing your cool on the guy who just can’t keep his hands off of you. Touching the dancers is forbidden according to your boss (and boyfriend) who owns the place that so many drunkards, business folk, and locals frequent. 

You would think that he would be less flashy with his whereabouts due to his illegal “side hustles”, but that isn’t any of your concern. If anything, it makes your life a lot easier. You look at the timer beside you on the nightstand near a bottle of empty moonshine and immediately stop your lapdance when it dings.

“Time’s up, sir!” you more than happily announce. 

The man, older with meaty hands and bad teeth, makes a sour face under his low-brim hat. “Damn, already?” he whines. “Ya can’t do that thing ya did with your hips just one more time, darlin’?” He gives you a sheepish smile that nearly makes you laugh. Is this guy serious? 

You shake your head, playing the part of the sweet but professional Southern gal just trying to make a dime. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got other customers waitin’ on me.” You put out a hand to him for your coin. “That’ll be $15, please.” 

Since you danced clothed, it is much cheaper than a lingerie dance which is $25 while a naked dance is $30. Many of the high rollers who come in here are able to afford the lingerie and naked dances, mostly to jerk off to the dancers as they watch them. You’ve had a few do so to you, but your boyfriend doesn’t mind as long as there is cash flow. 

But your customer doesn’t hand it over right away which is another normal occurrence here: bums who can’t pay or want to finesse you for a free dance…if not get you to have sex with them. You can already tell this one is looking for more than just a dance judging by the lecherous look he gives you.

“That was some dance, y’know,” he dreamily says. “I bet you’ve got all kinds of moves in the bedroom, dontcha, darlin’?” 

You do your best to resist the urge to roll your eyes from under your long lashes and instead perse your red lips at him that match your short red dress with its low bodice that shows off your cleavage and the slit at the thigh. “None of which you’ll be findin’ out about,” you firmly say. “Now please, sir, just give me the–” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he chuckles, putting up his meaty hands in mock defense. “Ain’t no need to get defensive…but unless you’re offerin’, I could give you way more than just $50 if you show me how good of a little dancer you can be on top of me.” He gives you a wink and you damn near vomit. You need to get out of here before you let the chopper sing. 

“Have a good night, sir,” you say, appalled, and turn on your heel to leave, but his hand on your wrist stops you. “What the hell are you doin’, you creep?” you snap.

The man yanks you back by your arm, trying to get you to come onto the bed with him. “C’mon, baby, don’t be like that,” he cackles, pawing at your wais. “Just gimme what I’m askin’ for and we can–” 

“Get the fuck offa me!” you yelp, immediately snatching the bottle off of the nightstand and smacking him upside the head with it.

The man lets out an “oof” as the bottle smacks against his skull, bursting into pieces of glass that you jump away from to avoid getting cut. You watch as he falls off the bed and smacks facefirst onto the floor with a thud that will no doubt alarm the saloon. 

And it does. The door barrels open and in runs Todo, the big, buff guard that your boyfriend put in charge of keeping the saloon safe. “Get your hands off of…” His rage subsides when he looks down and finds the man at your feet. “Her,” he finishes. His eyes tick up to you worriedly. “You’re okay?” 

“Yeah, now I am,” you huff. You bend down to check the man’s pulse, finding it pumping. “He ain’t dead––just unconscious.” Todo looks like he wants to ask you what went down, but the sound of boots stomping up the wooden steps stops him. Your boyfriend and boss stand in the doorway, shoving Todo out of the way despite him looking like an ant compared to the guard. 

Kenzo, the owner of the Blackwater Saloon, is an older, lean man with cropped, black hair, a beautiful face, and a goatee that only makes him prettier…except for his anger. “What the fuck is goin’ on up here?!” he hollers. “I’m tryin’ run a business here! Why am I hearin’ all this noise?”

Todo nods at you while shuffling into the room, acting as a wall between you and Yuri. “Why don’t you ask her?” he suggests. 

Though you appreciate Todo’s protection, you know that there isn’t anything Kenzo can do to hurt you…not unless you want him to turn him in to the sheriff and his men that are for sure sniffing around for him. “What the fuck, Y/N?!” he hollers. “You killin’ my customers now?!” 

“He ain’t dead, Kenzo,” you sigh. “He’s just unconscious and drunk. He tried puttin’ your girl on the bed and usin’ this bed for more than just sleepin’.” You give a Todo a subtle nod to leave and he does though he doesn’t look happy to do so. 

Kenzo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Babe,” he groans, frustrated, “this is the second time you got into it with a customer. The last one nearly got us sued!” You gape at him, pissed that he still blames you for that. “I didn’t even touch him,” you argue. “All I did was bump him when he kept gettin’ in my way and tried to corner me for a blowjob!” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “Or would you rather I had done it for more business?” you hiss. Kenzo looks at you with those unnaturally blue eyes, the contacts he wears allowing him to conceal with natural eye color. “Baby, come on,” he whines, moving toward you. “You know that ain’t what I meant.” 

He puts his hands on your shoulders, willing you to look at him. “You just could’ve done it in another way,” he says. “All my other dancers don’t do shit like this.” You glare up at him, even more irked. “That’s because they’re afraid of gettin’ fired,” you snap. “Kenzo, the guy tried to force himself on me. What else was I supposed to do?” 

But Kenzo doesn’t look the least bit concerned with that, as usual, only thinking of himself. “Just call me or Todo next time, alright?” he sighs. “Besides, isn’t this a nicer job than workin’ at that whorehouse I found you in?” He smiles at you but it’s sharp and has a deeper meaning to it. 

You resist the urge to sock him. He knows damn well he wouldn’t fire you is the fact that you not only give him pussy but you also bring in the most business because of your pretty face, “exotic” skin, and body. He cozies up to you, taking your chin into his hand.  “Ain’tcha my girl?” he whispers. It is what he always asks you when you fight; something he thinks gets your panties wet when all it does is make you want to barf. 

But you bite your tongue and look up at him with a smile. “Yes,” you sigh. “I’m your girl.” He smiles too, showing you all of his gold teeth, and plans a wet, tobacco-flavored kiss on your lips that makes you sick. “Good girl,” he hums. “Now back to work you go. No bein’ mean now.” 

You do as he says and leave, earning a hard smack on the ass as you walk past him. You giggle fakely as you exit, finally losing your smile when you walk down the wooden steps in your black pumps to the saloon drenched in cigar smoke, whiskey, rum, and sex. Music and laughter explode from the crowded bar as you make your way to the bar where Shoko, your bartending friend, and Yuki, one of the other dancers, sit conversing.

You sit down on the stool next to Yuki with her long, blonde hair pinned up to elongate her gorgeous face and seductive eyes. “Handsy customer?” she says from behind her fan. 

You nod, huffing. “Shoko!” you yell, slapping the bar. “Gimme a shot.”

The bob-haired woman with the cigarette dangling from her lips nods, bumping Choso, one of the cuties Yuri hired a month ago that Yuki has got her eye on, out of the way. 

Once finished, she passes a whiskey smash–a cocktail with whiskey, mint, and plenty of cherries–to you. “Here ya go, missy,” she says and giggles when you down it. “Looks like you needed that…someone else too.”

She juts her chin at Kenzo hunkering down the steps, hollering at Maki and Mai, the dancing sister duo that the men adore so much, to end their break and get to work. 

“You know, the boss has been a bit on edge lately,” Yuki says, blocking her mouth with her fan to avoid anyone eavesdropping. “I wonder if he’s havin’ money issues still. Y’know, the word is that he can’t pay for this place anymore.” 

You and Shoko share a look. ‘Yeah,’ you think. ‘That’s why he’s got all these side hustles.’ Money laundering. Prostitution. Trafficking alcohol. Kenzo does it all. Hold habits die hard, you suppose. You’re the only one who knows who your boss really is. 

You’re the only one who knows that he escaped prison a year before he met you and invited you to join his saloon he only opened five months ago after hiding out last year. 

You’re the only one who knows that he only opened this saloon as a way to lay low from law enforcement. 

You’re also the only one who knows that he pulled off one of the biggest heists ever with the help of a certain gunslinging duo that you know will show up here one of these days to collect their coin. 

“Well, he gets enough business here,” you say, playing the role of the clueless girlfriend and employee. “I can’t understand why he wouldn’t have the money.” Yuki looks like she wants to respond, but a high roller sitting down next to her, much to Choso’s dismay, stops her short and she puts on the charm. 

Shoko leans across the bar to you, pretending to wipe the surface down with a rag. “I can’t understand why you don’t just take the money you made and leave like you planned,” she whispers. “You’ve been at this for five months, Y/N. You’ve gotta be sick of it.” 

You shake your head, passing her your shot glass for another hit. The whiskey has left a warm feeling in your gut and a buzz that you need more of. “No,” you firmly say. “Not yet.” 

Shoko only thinks you want to leave this dead-end job and Blackwater for a life somewhere else. She doesn’t know your real plan or why you’ve chosen to stay for so long. ‘And it’s only a matter of time until they get here,’ you think to yourself. 

That’s the only reason you decided to wait to kill Kenzo: to get to Geto and Gojo the Gunslingers. The duo that everyone across the wild, wild West seems to know and is afraid of. And you know that it is only a matter of time until they show up looking for your boyfriend who you’ll serve on a silver platter. Anything to have Geto and Gojo finally within your grasp. 

And when the doors to the saloon suddenly open with a loud slam that emits startled gasps from the saloon’s customers and employees, including you, you know that they have arrived: your targets.

[mingtinys]

Soggy Cereal

pairing : choi san x gn!reader

college roommates!au , friends to lovers , fluff , valentines day fic !!

warnings : language

word count : 2.8 k

requested ? no

a/n : this was horribly rushed , barely proof read , and i kind of hate the ending , but i do want to post something for valentines !

You really should've just turned off your phone for the day. Maybe then you wouldn't be feeling so bitter. But after being bombarded by post after post of your friends being surprised by their significant others with vibrant bouquets, fancy brunches, expensive jewelry, and fluffy stuffed animals, it's a little hard to not feel so sour. Perhaps it's a bit unfair to hate an entire day, but February fourteenth just sucks, and you're ready for it to be tomorrow. 

"What's wrong with you?" San asks, genuine concern gracing his features at the way you've been scowling at your phone for the past hour. You'd nearly forgotten he was even in the room with you. Too caught up wallowing in your own misery to appreciate the bowl of cereal he'd so kindly made you. He digs into his own, spilling milk on the counter in the process.

"Nothing's wrong."

The look on his face tells you that excuse isn't going to do you any justice. He chews as he speaks, pointing his spoon at you from across the kitchen island. "You're a shit liar. You've been glaring at your phone all morning, something’s up."

"It's stupid." Your response is short, clicking off your phone and placing it facedown so you won't be tempted to glance at it any further.

"No, it's not. C'mon, just tell me."

San slips from his spot across the island, bowl in hand as he takes up the stool next to you. "Please," he drawls, putting on the most god-awful puppy eyes you've ever seen him muster up. You've lived with Choi San long enough to know, unfortunately, he's not just going to give up.

". . . I've never had a valentine. And I know it's cheesy but it'd be nice to have someone confess their undying love with some stupid rose bouquet or overzealous box of chocolates. Just once, ya know?" You sink in your seat, elbows propped up on the counter to rest your chin in your hands. You refuse to look at San.

"What do you mean?" San's voice is a little too optimistic for your mood. "We get each other gifts every year!" By his terms, he's not wrong. While the cheap boxes of gimmicky drugstore chocolates are a nice gesture, they're far from romantic. Not that you've ever expected such from San, but it's just not the point.

"No, San, like a real valentine."

He blinks at you for a moment, the frown on his lips only stays for a millisecond. "I'm gonna pretend like you didn't just call me a fake valentine."

"You know what I mean. We only get each other gifts because we're friends and no one else will." You plop down from your stool, sliding your bowl of soggy fruity pebbles over for San to finish. You've always found it weird that he actually prefers his cereal mushy. He'll even wait a good ten minutes after making a bowl before he eats it so it'll absorb as much milk as possible. But as nauseating as you find the mannerism to be, it is quite convenient. It's basically become tradition for him to finish off what you don't eat once the texture becomes too soft.

But it's the first time he's ever declined your leftovers. Instead of immediately polishing off your bowl like usual, he sticks to you like a shadow. San follows you down the narrow hall and to your room, making himself comfortable on your bed while you begin sorting through your closet for your work uniform. "I thought you liked getting each other gifts."

There's a certain dejected undertone to his words that make you pause and rethink how you're wording things. You aren't upset with him. If anything, he makes days like Valentine's significantly more bearable. If it weren't for the small box of chocolates and singular rose waiting outside your door this morning, you'd probably be having a lot bigger crisis over being alone on days like today. But your point still stands, nothing about the gesture is romantically inclined.

Your eyes finally land on your uniform, crumpled up in the laundry basket that sits next to your dresser from the last time you washed clothes yet never put them away. "That didn't come out right," you sigh, watching the way San's frown deepens as you lay the articles on the bed next to him. "I really do appreciate the gesture, San. It's incredibly sweet. I just meant it'd be nice to receive something from someone who likes me more than just platonically."

The last thing you want is for San to feel like you don't appreciate him. In fact, you probably do a little more than a friend or roommate should. "Please tell me you get what I'm saying. It's not you, I promise, I'm just feeling a little . . ." You search for the proper word. "Lonely."

San looks like he's about to say something but pulls his lips into a thin line before any words come out. He thinks, then says "I get it." But the frown is still there. You know he's the one who asked, but there's a bit of guilt that gnaws at your insides for dumping all of this on him so suddenly. So you pad across the room to your desk and pull a small pink gift bag from the bottom drawer in hopes to remedy the sad look on his face. Confusion pulls at his brows when you extend the bag to him. 

"I was gonna wait until after work to give this to you, but seeing as how you already gave me mine . . ." His face lights up at the realization. He's quick to snatch the present from your hands, His excitement tugs at the corners of your lips. "And be gentle with the bag, I wanna reuse it for your birthday in a few months."

You're not sure he even hears you, already tossing the tissue paper to the side and digging inside the bag. You'd love to watch his expression as he opens each component of your gift, but you're a few minutes shy of running late to the only thing that pays your half of the rent. So you begin slipping out of your pajamas and into uniform, not caring that San's just a few feet in front of you. You've learned to be pretty comfortable around him, given his bad habit of never knocking and the broken lock on your door that the landlord never got around to fixing. It was cause for him catching you in quite a few awkward situations for the first few months.

Though eventually, as the two of you grew more comfortable with one another, you were both willing to drop your guard around the other. Even to the point of just leaving your door open for him to come and go as he pleases. No one but San can say they've truly seen you at your worst and vice versa. Besides, San doesn't pay you much mind anyways, too engrossed in his gift to notice you changing.

You've just finished pulling your shirt on when you catch him eyeing you with one eyebrow raised. "What?"

He clears his throat theatrically, holding up the glittery pink card you bought for no more than two dollars. "'I think you're out of this world,'" He reads, turning the card to reveal a picture of a cheesy cartoon alien once he's done. "Really?"

"What? It's cute and it was on sale!" You giggle. The smile that breaks his playfully judgemental expression is enough to light the room. "Just keep going, there's more."

San neatly tucks the card back into its envelope. You take a seat beside him, watching while you tie your sneakers. At the bottom of the bag, underneath his favorite candy and snacks, sits a little box wrapped in shiny red paper. He holds it up, looking at you with an expression that reads what is this?

"Open it," you encourage.

He's gentle as he peels back the tape sealing what's inside, mumbling something about being able to use the wrapping paper for your next birthday gift as well.

While what's hidden inside the paper is no surprise to you, anticipation still grips your insides. The last of the paper falls away, revealing a hinged black box with a silver logo that sparks recognition in San's wide eyes. He looks at you, then the box, and to you once more before settling back on the box.

"This is . . ." He starts.

"I hope it's the right one, I went back to get that bracelet you pointed out a few weeks ago when we passed by the antique shop."

San opens the box and inside sits a silver chain bracelet, adorned with a singular little mountain charm. "I can't believe you remembered that," he whispers, delicately lifting the bracelet to examine it further. He then slips it onto his wrist, turning it this way and that to watch how it catches the light.

It was by no means some huge expensive gift, the owner of the old shop was more than happy for it to finally find a new home. But the way San's eyes lit up when he spotted it through the window was enough for you to know it was priceless. Though you knew he likely would never go back to get it for himself, and Valentine's seemed like a good enough excuse to get it for him.

"Thank you, Y/N. Seriously, I love it so much."

"I'm glad," you give him a smile, though it's nothing compared to his. "Now enough sappy shit, I have work soon." You snatch your keys from your bedside table and gesture for him to get up. He stands, though not without a groan of annoyance, "It's so stupid you have to work on a holiday."

"Like I have anything better to do today."

San follows you back out to the kitchen, spotting the long-forgotten remnants of your cereal still sitting on the counter. He lets out a soft "Oh!" and picks it up, taking a heaping spoonful into his mouth. It makes you cringe, the flakes so swelled up and half dissolved from how long it has been sitting there. It might as well be illegal to consume.

"You're seriously disgusting."

"And you're seriously wasteful. Besides I thought you were late, do you really have time to be heckling me?" He glares.

"I am and I’m blaming you." You state, glancing at the time once more.

You're halfway out the door when San calls out for you again. "Text me when you get off, I'll order takeout and we can watch shitty romcoms until you feel better."

While you're not sure watching movies about people finding their true love will necessarily make you feel better, San always does. So you don't think about it much and give quick confirmation before rushing out the front door and down the steps of your building.

To say work was horrible would be an understatement. As if watching your friends post their Valentine's gifts and significant others online wasn't already bad enough, serving table after table of happy couples was worse. Throughout the night, you were constantly subjected to copious amounts of PDA and extravagant confessions of love. Even witnessing a proposal at the end of your shift. Not to mention tonight's dinner rush was particularly bad at tipping.

But the cherry on top came when a customer, in a horrible attempt to impress his date, decided to nitpick at every tiny aspect of your service. Not refilling their wine fast enough, not checking on them enough, not being cheery enough, anything and everything he could think of.

The relentless critiques while being surrounded by the one thing you wished to avoid today stirred up every unresolved emotion from earlier. Turning your tastebuds sour once more. When your shift was up, you drove home as fast as you possibly could, completely forgetting your promise to let San know when you'd be back. The thought didn't even register until you pulled into your apartment's parking lot. That's right, San wanted to watch movies.

There's a part of you that wants to cancel on him. You're so tired and beaten down from the day that you honestly want nothing more than to tuck yourself away in bed and sleep for days. San would understand. He'd be disappointed, but understanding. Just as he always is. But when you open the door, the apology speech you'd been planning to let him down with dies out on the tip of your tongue at the sight before you.

Your usually messy and rather bland apartment is lined wall to wall with twinkling fairy lights. Their soft yellow glow illuminate the otherwise dim room. The scent of warm chocolate lingers in their air, mixing with the cinnamon-scented candle San always keeps lit. It's all very magical, yet confusing. You rack your brain as to why San chose today of all day to decorate.

Dropping your keys and bag by the door you venture further into the space. Peaking around the living room for San, you find the area to be completely vacant. You check the kitchen next, but there's still no sign of your roommate. However, what you do find is quite the arrangement of items set up on the kitchen island.

A bouquet of six tulips sit nicely in an ornate glass vase, vibrant in their color. Next to them, a tray of messily crafted chocolate-covered strawberries. Judging by the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, they're homemade. One of San's university sweatshirts is folded up neatly on the other side of the tulips. The one you've always told him you keep one eye on at all times because the design is your favorite and they sold out before you could get one. In the middle of it all sits a small, fuzzy teddy bear. It’s leaned up against a new box of fruity pebbles with a folded-up note in its lap. The writing on it is messy, but unmistakably spells out your name. You instinctively reach for it, flipping it open to reveal two scraggly sentences surrounded by pink and purple hearts.

"Not to be "mushy," but I am "cereal-sly" in love with you. Be my Valentine?"

"You're not supposed to be home yet!" San's startled voice breaks you from your thoughts. You nearly drop the note at his outburst. "I– did I miss your text? I thought I'd have more time, shit– um . . ." San looks frantically between the array of gifts and you. Then says, very unsure of himself, "Surprise."

For the first time in your life, you are truly at a loss for words. Because it's pretty obvious why San set all of this up, but your brain seems to lag at the thought of it. You feel like you need him to confirm before you can believe any of it. "Is this for me?"

He nods. "I know it's not exactly perfect, but after what you said this morning about not having a Valentine, I just thought . . . Well, I thought now might be a good time to tell you I sort of, kind of, maybe like you. Like a lot."

He gets antsy in your silence.

"And I know you said you wanted roses but everywhere was sold out. So that nice lady next door– you know Mrs. Kim– lent me some tulips she picked from her friend's garden. Oh, and everywhere was also sold out of boxed chocolate, but Yunho had some chocolate chips he let me borrow and I picked up some strawberries from that market down the street—"

It's pretty obvious San doesn't plan on ending his rambling any time soon. Words continue to waterfall from his lips, but they're all lost on you. Too overwhelmed by the thoughtful gesture and all the work he put into it to register the details of his story. You struggle to find the words to properly convey how much San, and all of this, mean to you. So you discard any semblance of a simple thank you from your tongue and instead take the opportunity to do something you've thought about time and time before.

You waste little time in closing the gap between you and San. Note still clutched in your fingers as you throw your arms around his neck and pull his lips in to meet your own. He reacts impressively fast, holding on to your waist and kissing you back eagerly. The rush of warmth that courses through your veins is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It leaves your mind with no thoughts but those of Choi San.

In your opinion, the moment ends too quickly with San pulling back to look at you. But how can you complain when his eyes hold that much love within them? "You didn't have to do all of this," you whisper after a minute.

San just shrugs, letting his thumb graze over the skin of your cheek. "No, but I wanted to.”

"I love you too, ya know?" You refer to his note. "Even if you like gross soggy cereal."

[redislazy]

not only for tonight

i got more than 10 ppl checking out my last fic so i wrote another one :> also on ao3

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[SMUT] - Minors DNI

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x afab!Reader

Word Count: 7,132

Content Tags: Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Edgeplay, Smut, Confessions, Creampie, Dom/sub Undertones, Road Head, Blow Jobs in a Car, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Romance, Sexual Tension, Porn with Feelings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

Summary: Ghost stops you from meeting your hookup.

It's been a tough mission overseas, but it was a well-executed one. With very few casualties, relevant intel retrieved, and the enemy leader dead, Task Force 141 and some men from other SAS units agreed to go out to a bar located in the next city from the base to celebrate before taking a couple of days of break. It hasn't been this lively for who knows how long. For such a long time, there was no cause for revelry. Lost teammates, failed missions, and innocent civilians you couldn't save. It never gets easy, but this is nice. Temporary, but a welcome trajectory. You take a sip of your wine as you sit alone on one of the counter chairs. Everyone else was playing pool, watching sports on the TV, and chatting. You’re one of the only few female soldiers who came tonight, and while you get along with the boys just fine, you just didn't feel like joining their rowdiness tonight.

As you survey the surroundings, you spot your Lieutenant, Simon 'Ghost' Riley doing an arm wrestling match with another soldier. You smile, amused, as this is the first time you’ve seen him have fun like this.

With every pound he forces into the other man's grip, you notice how Ghost feels himself growing more and more distant from the bar around him. It's not as though he dislikes this sort of camaraderie, it's just so different from how he normally feels in these sorts of situations. When he releases the other man from his grip, he grunts and tosses some bills on the counter. "Right then. Any other idiots want a go?"

Ghost then spots you from the counter, and he gestures for you to join him. "What about you, lass? Care to try your luck and see if you can beat me?" He arrogantly says, raising his voice a bit so you could hear from where you were sitting.

You shake your head, giving him a snicker. "I don't plan on breaking my arm today, Lt. I'll pass. I'll be rooting for you, though." You nonchalantly decline before taking another sip of your drink. You motion for him to move along and continue the match as his next arm wrestling opponent is currently waiting. "Alright, suit yourself!" He yells before going at it with the new challenger.

For a while, you silently just watched Ghost do his thing, entertained when he bested each one of his opponents with ease. He can be incredibly stoic and cold, but he is no killjoy when it matters. You are about to take another sip when your phone buzzes. Once you open your lock screen, you immediately notice a message from your hookup app. You were absentmindedly swiping earlier, but you didn't think you'd find a match tonight. Being a soldier and all, it's practically impossible for you to be in a relationship when you pretty much laugh in the face of death regularly. Still, that doesn't mean you don't deserve to unwind and let some steam out now and then.

The guy who matched with you asked if you're down to hookup right now. Seeing as his bio says he's only 20 minutes away from the bar, you don't see why not. You respond, telling him to meet you outside.

You sigh before taking one last sip of your drink. A part of you suddenly feels extremely empty. Resorting to a hookup app because there's no one waiting for you at home starts to sour your mood. You knew you chose the path of being a soldier, but you had your reasons, and you never once regretted meeting the people you are working with now and trusting with your life. Still, how would it feel to have someone be there for you, to love you, to pamper you, to spoil you? You always wondered how nice it must be like, but there is no room for a relationship in your life right now. The only temporary solution you can accomplish to tame the loneliness in your heart is to be held by someone, if, for only a night. Then when tomorrow comes, you'll feel some gratification, and you can pretend that it made you feel less empty.

"Right," You mutter to yourself bitterly.

Before anyone can notice, you slowly slip away, exiting the bar and walking down an alley. You figured you'd just wait here.

It's not that you enjoy sleeping around with just anybody. You're not promiscuous by any means, but it's been such a long time since you've slept with somebody, and tonight seemed like the perfect timing to do just that. 

Out of nowhere, Ghost's sudden presence in the alley startles you. 

"Where's your sense of loyalty, lass?" He growls with a hint of possessiveness in his voice. "I thought you were going to be there, cheering me on." He approaches you, towering over your smaller frame completely.

When he stands in front of you like this, your height difference is so palpable that you start feeling a little bit conscious. You sigh, knowing that the reason why he's being so intrusive is because he's just looking out for you. That's how he's always been with people under his command.

"None of your business, Lt. It's unimportant," You blankly say, your eyebrows raised as you silently ask him to not push it further. Besides, how are you supposed to tell your Lieutenant that you're out here waiting for your hookup?

Ghost's eyes narrow, and he steps closer, towering over you even more. "This 'unimportant thing' of yours seems pretty fucking important if you're abandoning your men to attend to it." His voice lowers threateningly, as he tries to intimidate you. "I think I'm owed an explanation."

He leans down, his face just inches from yours, his cold breath fanning against your skin. Even though he's trying to scare you, there's an undercurrent of possessiveness and need in his eyes that makes him almost irresistible. He wants you to explain yourself, but he also wants you to obey.

"Answer me, lass." His voice is soft, but demanding.

His entire action takes you aback. The way he's so pressed about this makes you feel like should come clean to him to avoid any trouble whatsoever. You give him an incredulous look for a moment, making sure you choose the right way to phrase your answer.

"Just waiting for a guy I matched with in an app," You try to sound as casual as possible, but the discomfort is just impossible to ignore.

Ghost's eyes narrow even further at your answer. He wasn't expecting that. "Huh. You dating?" 

You give him a puzzled look, curious as to why he wants to know further. "No. Only hookup, just for tonight."

He regards your answer for a moment. For a second, he looked like he would threaten you some more, but then a smirk tugged at his lips. "Well, then. I suppose I can't blame you for wanting some release," he says with a chuckle.

He takes a step back, his eyes scanning you up and down before locking his gaze on your lips. "I'm going to make you forget about this hookup, lass. And then you'll see why I'm the only man you'll ever need."

Without another word, he pulls up his mask just above his mouth. He grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you against the wall, pinning you there with his much larger frame. His lips crash down on yours, his tongue demanding entrance into your mouth.

Everything happened so quickly that you are now completely frozen, your eyes wide in shock, but you don't push him away.

You couldn't.

Deep in your heart, you knew you always liked him, but you could never act on it. He was so distant, so serious with his role as your Lt, you just knew he was off-limits. Not that you thought you'd even have a chance with him; he always treated you like one of the boys, and most of all, you are his teammate. Yet, here he was, kissing you with so much fervor, you couldn't help but close your eyes and give in.

You slowly wrap your arms around his back, letting his warmth envelope you as his tongue finds its way inside your mouth. You moan, your fingers trembling as you return the gesture, your tongue swirling and brushing against his. You pull away slowly, your eyes heavy as you look at him. It was dark in the alleyway, but the moonlight perfectly illuminated his masked face.

"Care to explain, Lt?" You shakily whisper, your hot breath grazing on his agape mouth.

Ghost's nostrils flare slightly at the question, but he doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he dips his head down to capture your lips once more, his hands tightening around your ass as you exchange yet another passionate kiss. After a moment, he reluctantly breaks the kiss and looks deep into your eyes.

"Because I wanted to. Because... I can't fucking stand the thought of you in another man's arms. It has to be me. Only me." There's a vulnerability hidden beneath his gruff exterior as he admits his feelings for you. It seemed to you like it took him long enough to finally work up the courage to act on them, and now that he has, he refuses to let anything stand in his way.

Your throat constricts as you struggle to think of what to say. The way he looks at you makes you regret not noticing it sooner. You swallow, your heart pounding so fast that you suddenly feel lightheaded. His words... they took your breath away. You have never heard Ghost this... desperate.

"How long, Lt?" You softly ask.

A low snort escapes Ghost's nose as he hears your question. He tightens his hold on you, pressing himself flush against you as if to remind you exactly how long he has desired you.

"Long enough," he growls. "Fuck, I've wanted you for so goddamn long. From the first day we met, you lit up something in me. But I kept my distance, thinking it wasn't right for me to desire you as your Lt." He trails off, cursing silently under his breath. If he'd known how you felt about him all this time, perhaps things would have turned out differently.

You inhale a sharp breath as you listen to his confession. Your heart is beating erratically, you're not even sure how you're still able to function right now. Ghost, who you've wanted for such a long time... He...

"Kiss me again," are the only words you could manage to utter.

Ghost's eyes widen with surprise at your request, but he complies eagerly. He tilts your chin upward, claiming your lips once more in a searing kiss. Your tongues duel passionately as you explore each other's mouths, your bodies pressed together tightly as if they might merge.

After what feels like an eternity, Ghost pulls away slightly, nipping playfully at your bottom lip before speaking. "You better get rid of that hookup, lass. Don't give him false hope after what is happening between us." Despite the danger in his suggestion, you couldn't help but chuckle.

You pull out your phone and you send the guy a quick text that says "sorry; raincheck, not interested anymore." It didn't even take a second for you to get a response back. "fuckin bitch" You snort as you read it, unaffected by the insult. You then start to uninstall the app, making sure Ghost is witnessing you do so.

When he grins approvingly, you shove back your phone in your pocket, staring at him in anticipation.

"So, now that that's out of the way... Don't disappoint me now," You tease, your eyes salacious, your tone hushed.

Ghost leans forward, capturing your lips with his in a fierce kiss that leaves you reeling. His tongue twists and coils around yours as your teeth click gently together. When he pulls away, leaving you panting, he looks you square in the eye. "I won't," he growls, his hands finding their way underneath your dress to grasp your bare thighs.

In one swift motion, Ghost hoists you up until your legs wrap around his waist, and your groin aligns perfectly with his throbbing erection. "We're going somewhere private to settle this," he mutters against your neck, nipping softly at your skin.

"Then get me out of here," You manage to say between your moans as he marks your neck eagerly. You cling to him tight, your head tilting more to the side, encouraging him to nip on your skin some more.

Without hesitation, Ghost starts carrying you at a brisk pace toward his vehicle. The cool night air whips past you two as he navigates through the dark streets. Once you arrive at his truck, he carefully places you down on the passenger seat before rounding the vehicle to climb behind the wheel. As soon as he's safely behind the wheel, his hand shoots out to cup the back of your neck, pulling your mouth roughly against his for another bruising kiss.

As he starts driving, Ghost glances briefly over at you. His eyes gleam with hunger as he takes in the sight of you.

An idea- or more fittingly- an urge suddenly crosses your mind as you catch his impatient side glances.

"Keep driving- eyes on the road no matter what, Lt," You warn out of a sudden, which visibly makes him shrug in question. Instead of elaborating, you reach into his pants, stroking his length through it, the fabric providing little resistance as his thick cock strains against it. He instinctively groans, but you don't stop. Instead, you unzip his pants and unbuckle your seatbelt before leaning down to his thighs, breathing hot air on his skin. 

He keeps his eyes focused firmly on the road ahead despite his best efforts to ignore your ministrations. Your warm breath against his inner thigh sends jolts of desire coursing through his veins.

When you finally free his aching member from confinement, Ghost gasps loudly in relief, his cock springing free. It stands tall and proud, the tip already weeping with precum. Ghost attempts to maintain control of the vehicle, but his concentration slips as you continue to pleasure him.

"Try not to cum before we reach your place. I want you inside me," You challenge playfully before you dart your tongue out, lapping his ridiculously long length sloppily. You can feel yourself getting wetter, your arousal completely excruciating, making you wish you two arrive soon. Still, you couldn't help but tease him. You want him so bad, your impatience got the best of you. You begin sucking on the tip of his cock, making sure you lick off all traces of precum with your tongue. You teasingly push your tongue on his slit, earning a desperate reaction from him.

"Fuck! You're gonna drive us straight into a damn tree if you keep that up," he warns breathlessly. Despite his protests, he lets one of his hands roam freely across your back and shoulders, digging into your flesh as you work your magic, his other hand secured on the steering wheel still. Every touch from your tongue makes his arousal peak higher, his cock straining harder against your warm lips and eager mouth.

He grits his teeth, stealing glances whenever he dares to look away from the road, determined not to let this feeling pass by unfulfilled. He'd waited far too long for this opportunity, and nothing short of a bomb dropping on your location would halt his pursuit.

"Mhm", You hum as your tongue draws circles around the tip of his cock. "Woah there, Lt, better make sure we don't crash, yeah?" You murmur with a grin as you feel the car slightly swerve, enjoying the way you're making him go crazy. You feel one of his hands grasp your hair tight, which turns a switch inside you. You begin to swallow his entire length, the tip brushing against your throat briefly.

'God, he is so big, I wonder how he'd feel inside me.'  You think as his girth stretches your mouth as you try to take more of him. You bob your head up and down, swallowing his fat cock in and out of your mouth as he struggles to drive to his place safely.

Ghost growls in frustration as he continues to lose focus on the road. Every curve and dip in the road threatens to send the car careening off the road as you pleasure him with expert precision. He glances helplessly as you swallow his cock whole, your talented tongue dancing along the underside, driving him wild with need. He worries that if you don't stop soon, he won't have a choice but to pull over and take matters into his own hands. Thankfully, he starts to make out the silhouette of his house amidst the dark.

"Enough," he barks out, gripping your hair even tighter as he yanks you off his cock.

"Mhm...." A whine of disappointment slips out of you as your mouth is now empty of his fullness. You wince at the throbbing force his grip left your scalp, but somehow, that just turns you on even more. You sit back up against the passenger's seat, wiping a bead of saliva on the corner of your mouth with your finger. When he stops the engine, you turn to the side to look at him, your breathing heavy in anticipation as you give him a sultry look, waiting for him to say something.

Ghost zips his pants back before stepping out of the vehicle. He moves to open your door. You climb out carefully, your eyes locked on his briefly before he beckons you to follow him to the front door silently. He suddenly grabs your wrists, gripping you hard as you two enter his home. He takes you with him upstairs to his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

"I'm going to fuck you senseless tonight," he declares gruffly, his gaze piercing into your soul. "And tomorrow, and every day after that." He pauses, taking a deep breath to rein in his emotions before adding, "If you're game for that, of course."

His words cause your entire body to tremble. His deep, hoarse voice... his domineering promise as he implies wanting to do this with you not only for tonight but also for who knows how long. You grab the back of his head, pulling him close to you so that your lips are only an inch away from each other.

"I think you know how game I am," You whisper. "But I don't want to be just your fuck buddy, Lt. With you, it's different. With you... I.."

Before you can finish your sentence, Ghost captures your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue diving into your mouth hungrily. He presses you against the door, pinning you there with his large frame. His hands roam boldly across your body, tracing every curve and plane as he explores you. His rough touch contrasts with the gentleness of your connection, showcasing the complexity of his desires.

Breaking the kiss, Ghost meets your gaze, his expression unreadable. "I don't want a fuck buddy either," He trails off, his thumb running tenderly over your bottom lip.

"God, Lt..." You whisper breathlessly as he kisses you fiercely like he's going to devour you if he wasn't going to already. Every spot of your body his hand caresses sends a shiver down your spine. You look at him longingly, your eyes half-lidded and smitten as he continues to run his thumb over your lip.

"It's still absurd to me," You breathe shakily. "How you want me."

"There's nothing absurd about it," Ghost replies harshly. "You belong to me. In my bed, under my protection, where I can ravish you as often as I please, and I can appreciate you right after." He leans in closer, his eyes locked on yours. "From this moment forth, there will be no denying it. No hiding behind titles or rank," he says, punctuating his words with another hard kiss.

His words send shockwaves through your chest. Your want for him intensifies, and you can't do anything else but submit to him.

His tongue glides easily into your mouth, battling yours furiously for dominance, teeth clicking together as your tongues tangle and dance. His hand cups the back of your neck, holding you in place as you revel in your chemistry. With every passing moment, it becomes increasingly clear that both of your passion knows no bounds. You are two souls destined for each other, connected by an undeniable force that cannot be stopped or ignored.

Suddenly, Ghost tears his mouth away from yours, looking deep into your eyes. "Get undressed,"

You swallow in anticipation, and you slowly nod, completely surrendering to his every command. You slowly undress, removing every article of clothing until you stand in front of him, bare and naked. Your cheeks flushed, heated by the way he silently takes in your sight. You shift your weight slightly, waiting for him to say something. You can feel yourself getting even wetter, your arousal so unbearable you might have to beg him soon.

Ghost steps towards you, his eyes not stopping to take in every inch of your exposed beauty. Your skin glistens with light perspiration, and your nipples stand rigid, begging for attention. He reaches out to trail his fingers along the soft skin of your abdomen before lifting his hand to cup one of your breasts. He gives it a gentle squeeze, rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger. You let out a small sound, a mix of pleasure and nervousness, but you stay put without protesting. Satisfied with your response, he dips his head, taking one of your hardened peaks into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the sensitive tip.

You throw your head back, your pleasure palpable as your moans slowly fill the air. Your wanton hums intensify with every flick of his tongue over your nipple, making your knees weak by the second. You push him off gently, looking at him with need. "Bed... please..."

Ghost hesitantly lets go of your breast, his chest rising and falling heavily as he regains his composure. He leads you to the bed, helping you lie down on your back before hovering over you. His gaze travels down your body, taking in every curve, every crevice as if memorizing every inch of you.

He positions himself between your spread legs. His hands rest on either side of your face, framing your features as he looks down at you. There is both possession and tenderness in his gaze, reflecting the complex emotions that run deep within him.

You bring a hand to his face, his mask which has only been lifted a touch above his lips this entire time rough against your fingers. You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you are crossing any boundaries, but you swallow all of your reservations away.

"...Can I see you?" You whisper tenderly, hoping it won't shy him away from all of this.

Ghost stiffens at your soft query. Despite his undeniable desire for you, he's never let anyone get this close, not emotionally nor physically. To reveal himself would mean opening himself up entirely, exposing vulnerabilities he thought were safely hidden beneath layers of bravado and self-preservation.

However, something within him responds to your request, craving the trust and intimacy that comes with letting someone truly see who he is. After a long moment of deliberation, he nods curtly, reaching up to remove his mask.

Relief washes over you as he nods to your plea. He slowly lifts his mask, pulling it to reveal a handsome, ragged face. With cheekbones so sharp and jaw so well-defined, you immediately thought of how he could have been a model had he not been a soldier. But then the faint scars on his face say it all. Each one with stories to tell. Ghost winces as you trace the old scars marring his otherwise handsome face, his emotions warring within him. 

"You're perfect," You sigh.

The fact that his scars exist only serves as a painful reminder of everything he's experienced—both triumphant victories and crushing defeats. Yet, amidst the turmoil, your simple declaration rings clearly: 'perfect'. The word itself holds such power, striking directly at the heart of his insecurities, giving him hope that perhaps he can find solace in your arms. Despite his doubts, Ghost finds himself unable to resist you any longer. He leans in, capturing your lips in a fervent kiss that speaks volumes beyond mere words.

You eagerly return his kiss, your mouth searing against his in a desperate dance as you both lower your guard down, completely giving in to each other. You brush his fingers over his blonde hair as his tongue moves over yours hungrily.

You then tug on the hem of his top. “How long are you going to stay dressed?” You manage to say in between kisses.

Releasing your lips with reluctance, Ghost looks down at the remnants of his clothes. "Too bloody long," he mutters before starting to strip, piece by piece, tossing them aside as they hit the floor.

He stands fully nude before you, every muscle defined and honed from years of training and combat experience. The scarred evidence of his journey adorns his chest and torso, telling tales of battles fought and lives saved. But that’s not all; his lengthy, thick cock catches your attention as it stands proud against his abdomen. It was dark in the car when you gave him that dangerous blowjob, but seeing it in detail, you couldn't help but suck in a deep breath as you predict how much it will inevitably stretch you.

Without further hesitation, he repositions himself between your spread legs once again. Your eyes lock as he prepares to take you once more, filled with determination and raw desire.

“No wonder all the other women in the unit talk about getting fucked by you,” You playfully drawl.

Ghost chuckles darkly as he gazes down at you. "Is that so? Unfortunately for them,” As if to prove his point, he positions his cockhead at your entrance, his hips beginning to thrust forward steadily, filling you using your convenient wetness in one smooth movement.

“They’re not you.”

Your bodies collide in a rhythmic fashion, creating an erotic symphony of slapping skin and muffled moans. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist, pulling him deeper into your core as he buries himself balls-deep inside of you, setting a pace that borders on brutal.

Grunting with approval, Ghost increases his pace, delivering brutal poundings of his pelvis against yours. His breath grows ragged as sweat beads form along his brow, trickling down his temples to vanish beneath his twitching lower lip. Every muscle in his body tenses with effort as he pounds into you relentlessly, taking what you both want so desperately.

"Look at you," He breathes in awe as he takes in the sight of his cock disappearing inside your hole. His hand wraps tightly around your upper arm, leaving bruises in its wake as he uses it to maintain control during your passionate coupling.

"I,.. please..," You moan obscenely, your hips moving on their own in an attempt to match his rhythm. You're not quite sure what you're pleading with him for, but whatever it is, you want it.

"Don't stop," You beg as your legs tighten around his waist, forcing him to bury himself even deeper in you. Taking hold of your left leg, Ghost lifts it higher, hooking it over his shoulder to provide maximum access. With renewed vigor, he plunges harder and faster into your depths, hitting new angles with each powerful thrust. The slapping of your skin creates a cacophony that fills the room, echoing off the walls as they become lost in a haze of desire. Your gasps and moans intertwine in a symphony of passion as the intensity reaches unprecedented heights.

As he continues his assault on your body, Ghost finally meets your gaze, his eyes dark and wild with lust.

"Fuckin' hell, you don't know how much I've thought of doing this to you. The real thing doesn't even come close."

You let out a gasp as his words overwhelm you. As he thrusts inside you harder than before, you feel your walls pulsating around his cock as his tip brushes against your sweet spot with accuracy. Your back arches in response, your toes curling against his back as you search for that sensation once more.

"Like that,... please... again..." You beg desperately, your cries heavy as you stare at him with stupefied eyes.

Throwing his head back with a primal groan, Ghost grips your hip tightly, using it to thrust his length into you harder and faster. Each pounding motion brings you two closer to the edge, your bodies slick with sweat as you lose yourselves in each other's pleasure. With his mind foggy with lust, Ghost focuses solely on satisfying you, determined to give you everything you want and more.

Reaching down, he slips his fingers between your folds, finding your swollen clit and circling it firmly with his thumb while continuing his savage thrusts. "That it?" He grates out, his voice straining from exertion.

"Yes! Like that," You gasp, your mind hazy with pleasure, your body quivering as he assaults you with both his cock and his thumb. He stimulates your clit so skillfully, you lose confidence in being able to hold your climax much further. You start clutching onto his sheets for dear life, your sex-filled senses overwhelming you as he speeds up his pace, all the while still rubbing your clit gently. You can feel tears running down the corner of your eyes from immense pleasure, your release building up the more he hastens his movements.

Feeling you close to the edge, Ghost quickens his hips even more, driving his cock into you with force. He maintains the firm circle on your clit, knowing how sensitive it is.

"Are you close, baby?" He growls out, his eyes narrowing as he focuses purely on sending you spiraling over the peak.

Just as you're about to reach your climax, he pulls out suddenly, causing you to cry out in surprise and disappointment. "Not yet. Hold it in for me," He commands, rubbing his cockhead awfully slowly against your entrance once more.

"Please... Ghost... I want to cum," You beg shamelessly, spreading your legs even more, urging him to sink his cock inside you again. You want to land a fist on his handsome face for cutting you right off when you were so close, but you know that you are at his mercy right now. You look at him with pleading eyes, your hands reaching up to the back of his neck, bringing him down closer to you.

Ignoring your plead, Ghost leans in, catching your mouth with his own in a demanding kiss. His tongue invades your mouth roughly, claiming it as his. You can taste yourself on his lips, an intoxicating flavor that fuels his desire for you. As the kiss breaks, his hips start moving again, easing his throbbing member back into you at a torturously slow pace. He wants you to suffer alongside him, feeling the anticipation build once more after being denied moments ago.

Everything about this is about dominance and submission. Even as you both lose yourselves in pleasure, there remains a clear distinction between you two - he controls and you accept.

"Flip over," He orders, motioning for you to lay on your stomach.

You do not even protest; you immediately get on your stomach, your back facing him as you bury your face in one of his pillows. The fabric smells so much like him, his scent so strong it erases all doubts you have left in your head. You lift your ass in the air, swinging it side to side impatiently. 

"Hurry," You whine.

Chuckling darkly, Ghost grabs onto your waist, positioning himself behind you. Without further warning, he slams his cock inside you with enough force to create a loud slap. You cry out in surprise, your pussy still vulnerable from previous use. Quickly adjusting, you relax into the thrusts, allowing him to fill you deeply again.

Stroking your hair tenderly, he kisses your ear lobe. "Good girl. Now keep still and enjoy it," He whispers seductively. And with that, he begins to pound into you methodically, matching each thrust with a slap on your round ass cheeks that leaves red imprints behind. He hammers into you with renewed ferocity, his thrusts growing more violent and unforgiving with every passing moment.

You gasp loudly, his hard and brutal thrusts rubbing against your walls in pleasure beyond your understanding. Your knees tremble underneath you, your moans slightly being muffled by the pillow as he spreads your cheeks, pulling his cock out entirely. You can tell how he is momentarily studying your twitching hole like he's enjoying his handiwork before he slowly sinks himself again inch by inch. You tremble, your breathing unsteady, your mind lacking any relevant thoughts besides the way he makes you feel so full.

Panting heavily, Ghost buries himself deep inside you once more, picking up the pace quickly. His hips move with a force born from years of punishing workouts and endless battles, causing you to arch your back in response. The mattress beneath you creaks ominously as he powers his way into you, his thrusts growing more erratic and intense. The room seems to shrink around you, becoming nothing more than a tiny sphere consisting of the two of you engaged in this fierce act of passion. Each time he pulls out, he spanks your ass cheeks harder, leaving angry red marks that sting but somehow fuel the fire burning between you even more.

Groaning, Ghost grits his teeth as you plead with him. The feeling of you tightening around him sends waves of pleasure coursing throughout his entire body, almost overwhelming him. Resisting the urge to explode prematurely, he gives you one final, powerful thrust before holding himself perfectly still inside you.

"Ghost- I want to cum, please...!" You beg as you feel the familiar sensation of your impending climax rising once more. You shamelessly move your own hips, slamming yourself backward, deeper into his cock as you attempt to chase after that sweet feeling. He's torturing you- completely under his mercy.

Instead of granting your wish, Ghost decides to prolong your agony. Slowly withdrawing from you, he circles your clit with his thumb before pushing three fingers into your soaked warmth. Curling them upwards towards your g-spot, he massages and presses against it until he feels you begin to quake beneath him. Just as you're inches away from exploding, Ghost withdraws his fingers once more, removing all forms of stimulation from your achingly sensitive area.

Holding you down roughly, he positions himself at your entrance before plunging back inside, re-establishing contact with your G-spot, only for him to fully pull out again.

"Ghost!!" You scream his name, your need excruciating as he denies you your release once more. Your body quivers to the edge, your pussy extremely slick and wet from his brutal stimulation. You want to cum so bad, but he keeps stealing the chance away from you.

"Ghost, please... please.." You beg wantonly, your cries so desperate as you sniffle, your ass still up in the air for him.

Dark satisfaction courses through Ghost as he witnesses your suffering firsthand. Your pleas and begging only fuel his desire to see you squirm and writhe beneath him. His cockhead leaks pre-cum as it hovers above your entrance, taunting you with the possibility of pleasure before it's cruelly taken away once more.

With a final surge of power, Ghost pushes his hips forward, driving his rigid length deep inside you, claiming what's rightfully his. He groans in satisfaction as your tight channel convulses around him, welcoming his invasion wholeheartedly. "There, feel better now?"

Your back arches once more as his cock's swift, brutal motion causes you to see stars. "Mhm, yes! Yes! Please, Ghost, don't stop!" You beg like a spoiled brat, your whines so needy as you push your hips back, your core swallowing his cock deeper.

Leaning over you, his towering frame blocking out the light, Ghost sinks his teeth to the back of your neck, giving you another visible mark that you'll need to hide once tomorrow comes. Grabbing onto your shoulders, he starts moving inside you with purposeful strokes, his thick cock hitting all the right spots inside your tight channel. Your insistence fuels him as he works his hips, determined to satisfy both his desires and yours.

Feeling you begin to quiver beneath him, Ghost knows you're getting close once more.

"Ghost- Like that, God, I'm so close-!" You grit out as he pounds into you with deliberate strokes, each thrust brushing against your G-spot, abusing the sensitive bundle of nerves with agonizing pleasure. You throw your head back, saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth, your hot breaths filling the room with lascivious noises. You're so close- you begin praying he won't deny you of that chance once more.

Grinning maliciously, Ghost pulls you forward, anchoring your weight on his arms as he holds you down. This allows him to penetrate you even deeper, striking gold as he hits your sweet spot multiple times with ease. His pace slows slightly as he feels the last threads of resistance snap within you. It's inevitable now; you'll cum soon.

And then he strikes. Moving with unparalleled speed and precision, Ghost flips you over violently, pinning you beneath him with one leg pressed against yours, keeping you immobile as his cock ruthlessly fills your wet pussy.

"Oh god, oh god-!" You cry over and over again like a broken record, your body quivering as he commits his brutal onslaught against your sweet spot unforgivingly, each time making you lose all your ability to coherently think. Your pussy constricts around him, your entire body trembling as you can feel yourself on the brink of release.

"I can't... I'm going to!" You wail, your walls throbbing in need as you can feel your climax rising.

Feeling you tighten around his cock, Ghost leans in, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss, silencing your screams of ecstasy.

"Not yet," Ghost growls out, holding your gaze with a smirk playing on his features. Using your ass as a purchase, he bucks his hips repeatedly, pulling his cock almost entirely out before slamming it home again. His pace is rapid and rough, showing no mercy as he forces you through wave after wave of pleasure that threatens to consume you whole.

Hearing those desperate pleas sent shivers down his spine, enflaming his already intense passion. Gazing into your eyes, he responds to your breathless pleas with a growl, his thumb pressing into the sensitive area of your clit, sending shockwaves throughout your entire being.

"Now." Finally, he gives you permission to let go. He commands, bracing his arms above your head as he watches you surrender to your orgasm. A devilish smile curls upon his lips as he feels your inner wall constricting around him.

Your orgasm crashes like waves against his body, the intensity almost too much for either of you to bear. Your body convulses violently underneath him, milk dripping from your sex onto his waiting cock.

Witnessing your spectacular orgasm sends him hurtling over the edge as well. His hips buck wildly, unloading his hot seed deep inside you as he roars out his climax. After several long seconds, his body goes limp, heavy as lead on top of yours, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Finally, he relaxes, the tips of his fingers tracing lazy patterns across your flushed skin.

"Well fuck," He mutters, still slightly winded from the experience. Lifting himself, Ghost rolls off you to grab a towel nearby. He wipes both of you clean before he lies beside you, pulling you into his side protectively.

You hum in appreciation sighing as you relish in his arms. You stay silent for a moment, still in the process of letting your heart rate come down to normal. Then, you stare at him with a smile.

“I was definitely not disappointed,” You mutter playfully.

Raising an eyebrow, Ghost grins proudly at you. "Better believe that," he retorts, kissing you on the forehead tenderly. Though his voice held a hint of arrogance, it didn't detract from the sincerity in his touch. The afterglow still hung heavily in the air, making every movement feel lazier and slower as if the world were caught in a gentle slumber.

"You did good, love."

Chuckling at his words, you snuggle up to him closer as you let his warmth envelope you. You bury your face into his neck, hesitating to speak for a moment before swallowing the lump in your throat.

“So, I guess you and I are a thing now.” You sheepishly mutter, your breath muffling against his skin.

Catching you off guard, Ghost laughs heartily, his strong arm wrapping tighter around your waist. "Who said we weren't before?" He teases, kissing your temple before nuzzling your nose. His tone softens significantly as he continues, "Of course we are. Didn't you notice how I always looked out for you? How I make sure nothing bad happened to you? Well, it wasn't just because I am your Lt," He explains, smirking down at you fondly.

"You got stuck in my life like a tick, and now...”

You pull your face away from his neck to meet his gaze. You take in his bare face one more time, admiring the way his smile is on display, all for you to see and appreciate. You place a soft kiss on his jaw, then you give him a genuine smile of satisfaction.

“Thank you, Lt., for sparing me a lonely night.”

Returning your smile broadly, Ghost returns your affection with a gentle peck on your lips. "That’s a given," Placing another kiss on your forehead, Ghost closes his eyes briefly, enjoying the peacefulness surrounding them at this moment. His free hand travels down to rest on your exposed thigh, providing comforting heat against your cooler skin.

As you both continue to lie together in silence, content with each other's presence, it becomes clear that your bond has evolved far past mere camaraderie. You share something special, something unique. A connection born from trust, loyalty, and ultimately love—one that will only strengthen with time.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

My Mother’s Child

Fandom: House of the Dragon, GRRM’s Fire and Blood

Pairing: Alicent Hightower x Aemond Targaryen

Summary: im a sucker for any GRRM universe and setting but after the recent release of the trailer for House of the Dragon’s second season I can’t quite contain the muses. So here is my self indulgent spillage of thoughts i entertained while watching the first. Perhaps growing up obsessed with Greek Myths, Shakespeare Anti-heroes and Renaissance families took its toll on my moral fascinations but the minute I see a codependent dynamic in a brutally restricted society I go a little nutty on the psycho-analysis and then it turns to feelings and then it turns to fiction.

Timeline: I’ve entirely had my wicked way with events and outcomes, nothing is critically pertinent but Aemond’s time in the Riverlands is changed, the time of Maelor’s birth is fudged, Aemond doesn’t die but is recalled to be regent again after Aegon’s demise, I’ve really no clue which of the Blacks are alive but the gist of it is the war has gone in favor of the Greens for the most part and now Aemond can come into his Crafty Uncle Richard III Regent era while obsessing over his pretty mom. Cheers.

Authors Note: im in no way romanticizing or advocating for the universe typical incest, warped relationships, casual murder, deranged intentions or the dire outcome portrayed of a stunted mother’s dependence on her worrisomely dependable son. Not proof read, have mercy on my tired eyes. Specific warnings below the cut:

Warnings: 18+, dead dove do not eat -thematically disturbing. An exploration of Alicent’s dependence on Aemond during his regency and beyond, undertones of attraction on Aemond’s part and submission to him on Alicent’s, combined with their delusional domesticity by coparenting little Maelor may disturb some. There is some physical touch that Aemond makes weird, his impure thoughts that are blamed on Targaryen tendencies, his recollections of sleeping in her bed as a child, him fucking Alys Rivers and imagining his mom sorta? along with sending Alicent his cum stained letters, calling Maelor “their boy” as if they are his parents, open ending suggesting a potential escalation in the dynamic. I tried to keep this as in character as possible so these warnings sound far more stark and crass than I hope the actual fic reads

It was Aemond sent to fetch his wayward brother, it was Aemond relied upon to soothe his sister, it was Aemond who absorbed Ser Criston Cole’s teaching, it was Aemond who stood any chance of gaining Otto Hightower’s commendation and through it some crumb of praise for the produce of poor, weary, teary eyed Alicent Hightower.

It was little more responsibility for Aemond Targaryen to quickly become the closest thing his mother had to a bosom friend by the time of his maturity, easily adding so weighty a role to those he already held as Lord Regent, terror of the realm, kinslayer and learned heir. It came as naturally to him as had filling each of its predecessors.

Whatever hopeless compulsion, dragon bound and magic made, to be loyal to his family that already ran in his poisoned blood, it was only ever magnified by the sight of his mother’s dutiful martyrdom, year after year bleeding herself out -and all the while not a soul to staunch the wound but him. Surely her husband the King only made it larger with each neglect or attention he paid her, and Aegon had long since been the sour fruit of a painful initiation. Helaena for reasons as gentle as they were cruel could not bear her own mother’s company -nor was the realm that sweet daughter lived in that of the Seven Kingdoms, where Alicent spent her every waking moment dwelling on and maneuvering for her boy King. Helaena lived in dreams and lived to avoid dreams and all Alicent had were harsh realities and dreams so trodden under the march of time that they resembled very little to their former selves by the retelling.

Aemond lived in the bridge between the two women of his house. There were dear to him the cherished traditions of Old Valyria and also, there were crucial to him the pressing matters of harvest and uprising and famine and the throne of Westeros.

He too lived in the Seven Kingdoms, he was practically their king, and like the manner in which he had long led this family by innate authority, such a role came naturally to him, as did sitting by the hearth in his mother's antechamber each evening, a recreation of the way he had stayed with her night after night in the wake of Driftmark, and discussing with her the petitions of the day, outcomes whose decisions needed making before dawn and hopes for the future.

Aemond felt close to her then, and dismal though the Kingdom’s prospects often felt, between the two of them there was calm in these moments. For once in his life Aemond did not find himself chafing under its soothing influence, but instead he would match her in her reclining, legs spread wide in his chair and silver head tilted to rest on the gilt chair, their hands near to brushing and let the connection grow until he wondered if he too were a dreamer and could know her inner thoughts, know her bewilderment and also her relief when he took from her the weight of the day with his sober companionship.

It felt odd parting in the evenings after these talks, what had once been a ritual of her comforting his painful wound in his youth and holding him close through the nighttime terror now felt necessary to be repeated as cure from her own dejection. Only her last remaining grandson Maelor provided some support to Alicent, she herself a child grown old using her own children to soothe herself.

Aemond saw to it that Maelor was brought often to their evening chats, a docile boy with an intense interest in blocks, he was no distraction from their more weighty discussions but when the evening grew late and the moon high and Aemond’s better judgment waned at the soft sight of his mother’s tender form and unguarded appreciation for his presence by her side, there was Maelor to place in her arms in instead of himself, and there was Maelor to pat her arms and lay upon her breast and enjoy the uncomplicated devotion of a mother that Aemond had never known.

Perhaps if his father the King had even once played the role of father, Aemond would not have spent his childhood clasped to that soft bosom while pretending he were the one being comforted by it and not her. He was older now and he had read of such dynamics, he had read of myths and scandals, Maester’s studies of the codependent phenomenon that blurs the line between each familial role. Childlike herself, his mother deserved not another man to have designs on her but a child, a true child she could dote upon and cuddle at night and a good son to tell her,

“You are weary, come, I’ll walk you to bed. Nevermind his blanket, I have it.”

and so it was Maelor who lay with her, Maelor who delighted her, Maelor who took up the space that had last been Aemond’s under her left arm. Only Aemond now allowed himself the task of tucking the furs about them both and stroking the tear tracks off her cheek, leaning down to kiss her forehead as she had dreamed of her own father doing. And then, Aemond betook himself to his own chambers laden with her burdens and his own and fell into the bedding with pleasure in his heart at having been entrusted with the wearisome load.

It continued thus in a pleasurable routine until the Riverlands called for his attention. Aegon was propped up, scarred and dim, on his neglected throne and Alicent was made Protector of the Realm and immediately thereafter Aemond found himself in the courtyard, Vhaegar waiting for him to mount and lead the reinforcements.

As Aemond pressed his thin lips to mother’s forehead in farewell for the duration of a long campaign, little Maelor who was in her arms laid hold of Aemond’s silver locks and seized them tightly during the moment between mother and son, holding the prince hostage a bit longer, for a moment nearer,

“dada.” -the infant nephew babbled to his uncle Aemond for a kiss of his own and to judge by Alicent’s alarmed expression, Aemond’s enforced separation from this little family they had made of a year’s evenings could not have come a moment too soon.

It haunted him, that flash of horror on his mother’s face at an infant’s small confusion. It brought back a seething reproach against her for all the times she’d never understood him, all the times she had raged against his very nature as a Dragon, holding him up with disgust and pride all at once until his head spun with it and he had learned to dance to her every whim, now the devout follower of Old Town and now the noble Dragon whose rights were being denied.

But woe to him should he be one or the other when it did not suit her. She thought his innate longing for a dragon to be imbecilic when he was young and yet she glowed with pride when he called out those Strong bastards for being anything but pure blooded dragons themselves.

As always with her duty, she hated herself for its outcome yet chose to cloak herself in pride for her sacrifices. His very existence, those of his siblings too, was sacrifice, his very bloodline and nature was an abomination against her faith, his impulses were beastly however much he took her principles to heart, and his tastes remained strange no matter how stifled her own had long remained.

But she had made him. How dare she be repulsed by her own creation.

Prince Aemond’s ire burned through him and suited the needs of war far better than kinder feelings of pining for hearth and home, so he stayed angry with his mother at each hack and hewing of his blade, each swath of farmland he burnt and every ill organized column of traitor levys he annihilated.

Capable, he is the capable son and his mother writes to him thanking him for it and he crushes the missive in his hand before regret surges after and he strokes the parchment flat again on his desk with all the revernace of a lover for his beloved’s skin.

He is kinder the parchment than he is to Alys Rivers.

Alys who is older and smart and wicked, who never once flinches at his nature, who accepts the ruthless pace of his hips and the mauling of his mouth with her own vigor, Alys who he swears to himself is a wartime necessity, the humors most flow somewhere and if he is to bleed he must also spill and she is there and trustworthy and her aura reminds in the moments after pain, warm arms holding him tight on his right side lest he roll on his wounded eye in sleep. The eye does not throb in that raw way any longer, it is a dull and perpetual ache he can expect to remain with him for all time, but the longing for such comfort remains and he lays atop Alys’ matronly breast often for longer than his daylight-sobered self can countenance.

He writes of her to his mother, to grieve her with his sin as much as not to withhold anything from her, he has not before and why should he now? Her reply is stifled and terse in regards to his admission, barely even a line and he must squint to decipher wether it pertains to the subject he is most anxious to hear from her about. But as he thumbs the well familiar scrawl of her pen he can imagine the set of her mouth and the pleading of her eyes, so different from true distress, no, instead it is the girlish patheticness she plays at, despite its lack of success all these years and how the same years have robbed her of the youthful vulnerability that once made men take notice of it.

Only Aemond remains affected by it, and he finds it so deliciously false that he teases it out of her as a treat for himself on occasion. Aegon may have it whenever he sees fit, though being a fool he thinks every crease to her forehead is that of genuine concern. Aemond’s knows her better than that, and sees her pouting eyes come through the written admonition to “keep himself in good company”.

He smirks at Alys when she enters his tent and finds him rolling up the motherly advice. He ploughs her atop the volumes of communication his dear mother has sent him during this campaign and the parchment he sends back to her with his report next morning is stained.

Aemond doesn’t need to hope that she smells his letters for sweat and smoke the same way he smells hers for rosewater and thyme. He knows she does, he has caught them under her pillow and in her pockets when returning to the Keep, time and again, without warning. He knows she prays for him to outlive them all and he knows she will kiss the stains she mistakes for tears. A holy horror fills him at the satisfaction that thought brings, and after it has taken root he cannot find it in himself to enjoy Alys’ cheerful vigor any longer or the dark appetites they once shared. She is too eager, she is too unabashed, there is too little shame for his taste.

Alys is a whore and Aemond longs for the droopy eyed piety of his mother’s face when he tucks her abed, the melancholy contentment of his dutiful care for her and the mislaid trust that she has domesticated her little dragonling to the faith of the seven, her plaint limbed trust that the Warrior and Mother would never meet in the throes of burning want that consume him.

When his task is done, or near to done in these rebellious lands, and a call comes of his brother’s failing health, Aegon mounts Vheagar a disillusioned man, flying high and away above the wreckage he has committed and leaving behind the last Strong bastard dead as promised.

Alicent’s son is a man fully grown when he alights in the courtyard, long limbed and toned from his wartime deprivations, the set of his jaw remains firm but his gait is looser, there is a confidence in bloom now that was only budding before he left. Alicent cannot hide her joy at seeing him again, her pace is faster than is strictly proper as she breaks ranks of the welcoming party to greet him -it is her right as reigning regent.

As his mother.

She clasps his hands and feels his strong fingers engulf her forearms, tugging her nearer in an almost playful fashion -the action suits his new demeanor of confidence but it hardly suits the action of a son greeting his mother.

“Muña,” his rich voice murmurs to her as he stares down at her with not a bit of the usual softening in his sharp features, his lips quirk and his eyes sharply plumb through the depths of her own, “I am come home, as you asked.”

Unnerved by his intensity, Alicent gives him a trembling smile, watery eyes darting from one dear feature in that ethereal face to the next -it is the war terrors, perhaps, that have him so ardent in his tone and grip, men often come back from battle strung taut.

“Then we are safe.” she sighs, meaning it for their family even as her own heart quickens in vague misgiving.

“Maelor?” he questions, not even bothering to ask after the current king, his blood brother, it is the infant he has already fashioned into a surrogate son that interests him now.

“Is well.” his mother glows at the mention of the babe, “Growing and talking more each week.”

“And his mother?” Aemond asks with a soft light in his face as he ducks to meet her eye to eye, and Alicent knows he does not mean the poor Helaena gone mad in the tower, he means Alicent.

“Well enough.” She insists with all the age-old weariness that suggests, and is meant to inform him, otherwise.

Aemond’s jaw ticks in recognition of the old habit, his mother lies often for so pious a woman and she manipulates even more frequently for so devout a defender of the truth. It is a child’s tactic and he knows it, and that fury over it that had filled him in his days in the Riverlands surges back in another form, he feels a superiority in that moment even as he is being played by her weary pout and soft hands.

It is a woman’s way of asking a man to carry her load, to disarm her of her duties, to take from her the pretense of capability and taste for ruling.

Aemond’s conflict for such a role died somewhere with Alys in the Riverlands, by his own hand, in his own bed, his mother’s last letter dancing before his sightless eye. It is with confidence and entitlement that he glides his hands down her shapely arms and takes her hands in his, weighing them between them as she watches in surprise. He thumbs over the knuckles before splaying them out in his much larger palms and running a forefinger over the mangled cuticles.

“Mmm, not well enough for my liking, judging by this.” he remarks and when she goes to snatch the evidence of her worry away he clasps them stronger until it is an undeniable struggle for her to take them back -one he denies with an iron grip and a patronizing smile that she has only ever seen Aegon receive from him. “Those days are over, munta, we will have peace and plenty now.” he drags her stiff arm through his own and turns them towards the entrance of the Keep, patting the sore fingers laying on his arm, “And I’ll have no more of…this.”

Dazed, Alicent allows him to lead her through the great doors and into the colossal tomb that has been her children's home, she stares up at the familiar face of her third born in the light of the grand hall’s torches and marvels at the comfort one existence can bring another. Just as she fears the firm hold on her hand and heeds the temptation she feels to obey a man child she should be governing. These thoughts are put to flight when Aemond halts and turns to her warmly, no sneer remaining and no cold authority left when he whispers excitedly,

“Will you take me to our boy?”

The instant awareness of his meaning, that he means his nephew, that he means her grandson, that he means the future king, that he means Maelor -it sickens her how natural her impulse is to smile back at Aemond’s oddly paternal expression, to lead him back to her antechambers and reunite the little family they made before the war called him and that witch possessed the son Alicent had so lovingly made pure and noble in her belly. It is balm to hear him grown and saying that they are one again, that she is paramount in his life once more, that together they have made something gentler and better than any bastard lovechild conceived in wartime.

“Come.” Alicent urges her son, taking his scarred hand in her soft one as she had a million times before to lead him to the Sept. Yet this time, Alicent leads Aemond to her rooms and the cradle of their future King.

[rip-quizilla]

Your Leather, My Lace ~ Part 1: One Look Could Kill

*This fic was co-written by curlyfry23, whom you can find on AO3 here

Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Rockstar!fem!Reader

Summary: It's your band's third time competing in Indianapolis' Battle of the Bands, and you're dead set on making 1991 the year you finally win. Of course, the moment you swear you won't fall prey to any "distractions", a guy named Eddie with big brown eyes shows up to distract you.

Word Count: 2.6k

Tags for Entire Fic (from AO3): Enemies to Lovers, Rival Bands, Tension While Singing, Leather, 80's Rock References, Song Lyrics, Slow Burn, Sexual Tension, Thinly Veiled Hex Girls Inspiration, Eddie Munson Lives, 1991, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Mutual Masturbation, Hate to Love, Oral Sex, Consensual Sex, Smut, Eddie Munson Has No Sense of Personal Space, Cunnilingus, Nipple Licking, Catholic Guilt, brat!reader, Dom/sub Undertones, light degradation, Car Sex, The Lord of the Rings References

~Indianapolis, 1991~

“It’s our year, ladies.” 

You couldn’t wipe the grin off your face; this was it. You could feel it in your bones, this was your fucking year. 

Denise snorted, “Sure.” Green lips curling into a rueful smirk, she struggled with her bags and band equipment while reaching up to tighten her platinum pigtails. “Not like you say that every time we drag our asses out to this thing.” 

You paid her negativity no mind. She wasn’t wrong necessarily, but you refused to ignore the surge of adrenaline that was pulsing through your veins right now. “It’s different this year, don’t tell me you guys don’t feel it too.” You confidently strutted through the revolving door of the high-class hotel where Lana’s dad had made reservations for your band for the duration of the competition, and you mentally sent out a heartfelt thank you to him as you looked around, awestruck at the grandeur of the hotel. You would have been fine with putting yourselves up at a Best Western or something; having a band member who came from money really had its perks.

“I certainly feel something.” Lana drawled, eyes following a particularly attractive bellboy who threw her a wink as she sent a grin in his direction. Expression growing sour, you snapped in her face, wincing when you almost dropped your guitar case. “Hey! No! Nonono, none of that, not this year.” You ignored Lana’s pout and resumed your trek toward the front desk. 

It would be your year to win… IF- and only if- you all committed to keeping your eyes on the prize. This was your third year competing for the title, and you were pretty sure that if you lost Battle of the Bands one more time, you wouldn’t be able to convince Lana and Denise to compete again. It was a big commitment; foregoing jobs, family, friends- well, you only had two of those, and they were here with you- for up to a month, depending on how far you stayed in the game. After getting cut before you even made top ten the first year, it was hard enough to persuade your bandmates to try again. Last year had been closer (you attributed that to the hours you all had dedicated to practicing day in and day out to prepare) and thought you’d had it in the bag until you were cut before making it to top five. 

“No distractions this time. I’m making it a rule.” you said over your shoulder, getting in line to check in. “If we want to win this year, we need to focus.” Luna plopped her bags on the floor as she lined up behind you. “Making rules now, huh? Who put you in charge?”

You rolled your eyes, turning to face her. “Calm down, obviously I’m not telling you what to do, okay? You’re an adult, you can do what you want. However-” you raised your eyebrows, leaning towards her to ensure she got your point. “I am proposing that we all make a pact to give this competition the place on our list of priorities that it deserves.” 

Denise raised an eyebrow. “And that place would be…?”

You shot a hand as high as you could, even going so far as to stand on your tiptoes. “Here! Aaaaaall the way up here! Tippy top!” You sounded as exasperated as you felt; getting these girls to care as much as you did felt like pulling teeth sometimes. “Look, it’s not like I don’t want us to have fun while we’re here, but I also know that if we stay zeroed in on our goal, all it can do is help us. Right?”

Your friends nodded and smiled, used to your intensity when it came to Battle of the Bands. “You’re right, sorry for getting bitchy.” Lana slung an arm around your shoulders, and her orange-dyed twists tickled your cheeks. “Thanks for keeping us in line, cap.” She gave you a mock salute before planting an obnoxiously loud kiss to your cheek. 

You laughed, groaning dramatically as you wiped her black lipstick from your face. “You know how long it takes to do my makeup!” you giggled, swatting her away as you stepped up to the front of the line to check into your room.

***

That night would be the first round of performances for Battle of the Bands, and you had already persuaded your bandmates to come out with you to a local venue to scope out the other bands competing for the title. From the moment you walked through the doors of the grungy basement bar, you felt like a dormant part of you came alive. You loved this- genuinely loved it; the smoke flinging neon lights in every which way, the dull roar of people talking, yelling, drinking… the energy was infectious, and it made you itch to get on that stage. 

Not tonight, though- tonight was not about you, it was about reconnaissance. Tonight’s bands were all new to the Battle, and while you weren’t ruling them out as potential threats, you weren’t necessarily scared of them either. After grabbing a drink from the bar with Denise and Lana, you scoped out a small table in a corner from which to watch tonight’s performances. Unfortunately, it only took a few songs from the earsore of a goth rock group to make your friends duck out in search of a more interesting bar to spend the evening. They tried to convince you to go with them, but you stood your ground, eager for any leg-up on the competition. 

“Go on and have fun, really! I’m all good here.” You smiled reassuringly. They seemed skeptical and a bit disappointed, but still left you alone at your corner booth that now felt far too large for one person. Sighing, you stood and walked over to the bar, ordering yourself another drink and leaning against the slightly sticky counter. 

As you took in the sight of the dumpster fire on the stage, you shook your head, disappointed. You didn’t want the rival bands to be too good, obviously, but you had been hoping they would at least be competitors. The thrill of the chase was something you felt in your bones here, and it helped you want to be better; to make yourself be better. These guys… they just made you feel sorry for them. You reached into your purse and withdrew your small moleskine notebook and began jotting down a few notes on the band’s performance. Weaknesses: lead singer is tone deaf. Lead guitarist thinks the guitar is a percussion instrument. Strengths: members all have nice hair. 

You were so focused on trying to find more strengths to write down that you barely noticed the stranger looking over your shoulder at the paper you were jotting on. “Jeez,” a voice said, inches from your ear,  “and I thought I was a harsh critic.” Your head whipped around, narrowly avoiding the stranger sitting directly behind you. Frowning, you replied, “Did you just read my notebook?”

The stranger, a whole head taller than you with a lean frame and a dark mane of long, frizzy hair, smiled broadly back at you. “Will you keep talking to me if I say yes?” 

Oh. He was flirting with you. 

You turned away, a silent answer to his question. No distractions. You had made the rule, and you intended to follow it. Bringing your attention back to the stage, you struggled to place the song the band was playing -the melody sounded familiar, but the lead singer’s tiny, screeching vocalizations were making it difficult to recognize. Finally, you realized that they were playing a very grungy rendition of “I Will Survive”; surprised, you added Impressive range of genre knowledge to the “strengths” column. 

You heard a throat clear behind you, to which you rolled your eyes and looked sideways over your shoulder. He was still there, smiling somewhat less confidently now but still smiling nonetheless. “So, uh…” the stranger slid into the barstool beside yours. “What are you writing?” 

You gave him a thin smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “A manual for creeps who don’t know how to take a hint.” 

Glancing down at his beer, his ringed fingers tapping the bottleneck methodically, the stranger sighed, “That sounds interesting, I should give it a read.” 

A corner of your mouth crept up before you could stop it. “Yeah, you probably should, might learn something.” 

The barest hint of a smile from you was all he needed to bring his toothy grin back in full force. “Gotta be honest, learning was never my strong suit.” 

Against your better judgment, you turned the rest of your body to face the bar, giving him your full eye contact- And damn, if those weren’t the biggest eyes you had ever seen. 

You indulged him with a wry smile. “Not the schooling type?” you asked. Big Eyes placed a leather-clad elbow on the bartop, resting his head in hand and smiling lazily. “Oh no, I loved school. Loved it so much I had three senior years, actually.” 

You snorted out a laugh, eyebrows raising involuntarily. “Three?” you repeated. “Damn, even I didn’t like it that much.” 

He closed his eyes and nodded vigorously, “Oh yeah, loved it.” he reiterated, his expression so mockingly serious that you couldn’t help but laugh softly. Upon hearing your laugh, his smile crept up to match yours. “Biiiiig, big fan of a good ‘ole public school education,” he said. 

You tapped the bar to signal to the bartender that you were ready for another round. “You would just love Catholic school, then,” you replied. “Real fun, learning about Jesus instead of evolution.” 

Those wide eyes got wider somehow at the mention of Catholic school. “Are we talking about plaid skirts, nuns that slap your hand with a ruler- that kind of Catholic school?” 

You nodded grimly. “The very same.” The bartender handed you another drink, and you nodded your thanks to her as you continued, “And it was an all-girls school, too.” looking at Big Eyes, “your creep ass would’ve loved it.” 

Undeterred by your jab, he inclined his head and raised an eyebrow. “Something tells me if I went to school and saw you in a school uniform, I’d be blind to any other woman that crossed my path.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that your uniforms weren’t the least bit sexy, and had included knee-length skirts and starchy oxford shirts… but the compliment heated your cheeks anyway. 

Trying not to smile (and failing) you bit your lips and shut your notebook with a sharp thup. “Is this what you do for fun?” you asked him, “You go out to bars and hit on strangers?”

Big Eyes laughed softly, teeth still shining in the red and blue light reflecting off of him from the stage. “Maybe. It’s been pretty fun, so far.” 

You reached back, rubbing the back of your neck while you glanced back to the stage. The band was packing up and heading off stage. You hadn’t realized how much time had passed while you were chatting it up with this stranger. Shaking your head ruefully, you looked back at him with an apologetic expression. 

“Look,” you sighed, “you actually seem really nice, and you’re funny and easy to talk to…” His face lit up like a Christmas tree, and his eagerness at hearing your praise reminded you of a puppy. It felt as if someone were squeezing your heart in your chest. “...but I really can’t be flirting with guys at bars right now, okay? I’m sorry but now just isn’t the best time for distractions.” 

“Distractions?” Big Eyes laughed, unphased. “What am I distracting you from?” 

You gestured toward the stage. “My band is competing in Battle of the Bands. I came out here to see what we’re up against this year.” Holding up your notebook, you stuck your pen behind your ear with a free hand. “That’s what I was taking notes for. It’s our third year competing, so-” you grimaced, apologizing with your eyes once again. “-I don’t want to leave anything to chance. So no distractions this year. I’m sorry, under any other circumstances…” Your sentence trailed off, and Big Eyes raised his eyes as he waited for you to finish. 

You glanced away, fumbling around your words “...under other circumstances, I might keep this very entertaining conversion going and maybe have another drink with you… but I need to focus. So that will not be happening tonight.” You looked back at him, heart racing as his gaze snagged yours. His expression betrayed nothing, but those eyes were so wide and intense that you didn’t want to look away. You took a deep breath. Control yourself. “I’m sorry.” you added. 

He gave you a small smile and shrugged. “It is what it is. Can’t knock you for being dedicated to something.” He threw a nod to the bartender before asking, “What’s your band called?” 

“Next Hex.” you replied, downing the last sip of your drink. Big Eyes handed a few bills to the bartender and nodded, eyes distant as if he were documenting the name of your band in his memory. Eyes flicking back up to you (your heart felt like it did a backflip- they’re just eyes, why was he having this effect on you?) he raised his eyebrows, sobering his expression. “Noted.” he said, “Hopefully I’ll get to see you guys play.” 

You smiled, the gesture more genuine this time than the first few smiles you gave him. “Hopefully.” you repeated. “It was nice to meet you-”

Hopping off his chair and straightening his leather jacket sleeves, he held his hand out to you. “Eddie.” he filled in the blank.

You took his hand, ignoring the way your heart rate quickened when your skin touched his. “Eddie,” You mimicked before giving him your name in return. “Sorry about the circumstances.” You winced inwardly at how awkward it felt to turn a guy down mid-handshake. 

Big Eyes- Eddie- smiled ruefully and shook his head as he withdrew from your handshake and placed both hands in his pockets. “Don’t apologize yet,” he said, “I might end up being your favorite groupie.” 

A laugh bubbled up from your lips. “You’re not gonna go crazy stalker on me, are you? If you do, you can expect your restraining order in the mail.”

That mischievous grin plastered itself back across his face, and you were starting to wonder if this facial expression was simply his default face. “If your signature is on it, I might just get it framed, rockstar.” Satisfied with having the last word, Eddie gave you one last blinding smile before backing away from the bar and disappearing into the crowd. 

You continued looking in his direction until he vanished from your line of sight, and a part of you wished he hadn’t been scared off so easily… but you immediately chided yourself for wishing a man hadn’t taken no for an answer. How often were men who flirted with strangers at bars respectful? This guy was one in a million. Mentally, you cursed your luck for having such horrible timing.

You waved down the bartender and asked how much your tab was, but to your surprise she shook her head. “Your friend paid for you, don’t worry about it!” 

“Oh.” you said, surprised. You had already pulled out a couple one dollar bills, so you handed them to her anyway. “Well here, these are for you then.” Smiling, she took the bills from you and pocketed them in her acid wash jeans. “Aw, thanks hun! Have a great night!” With that, she turned to help the next patron a few seats away.

So, you thought, I just turned down a guy who was funny, respectful, AND paid for my drink even when he knew he wasn’t getting anything out of it. You shook your head, slowly making your way to the exit. 

This had better be our fucking year. 

Part 2

[gomzdrawfr]

[OC omegaverse Rambles]

I have to scribble this quick but some doodle

It's been too long since I drew non-chibi so aksjdhk it's shite but yeAH

been thinking about her and Price's scents... Of course these scents varies according to mood, but this is the basis of Raven's scent

False Alpha!Raven:

Ash: smokey, burnt, smouldering, it's thick and suffocating, carrying anger, determination and the need to kill

Iron: sharp, metallic tang and lingered persistently, leaving an acrid taste, an aftertaste of blood, hauntingly memorable and intense

Moss: earthy, moist, damp, present when she's calm

Rubber: synthetic undertone that not anyone can catch on, usually happens when she takes the vial initially

Omega!Raven:

Citrusy: dominantly sour with a rotten undertone, zesty with a hint of bitterness akin to the peel of a lemon, though there is a subtle sweetness like the pulp of an orange, soft and warm

Sea salt: salty, crisp and clean, it's somewhat moist, though hard to detect after being on the vial for too long, scent long altered and forgotten

Honey: thick and heady, syrupy and sticky (released in arousal)

Molasses: usually present with honey, though there is a subtle bitterness to it, rich and dark (released when possessive)

I also thought about Price's scent, though not much in detail yet

Tobacco/Smoke

Charcoal

Sandalwood

Amber/Vanilla/Labdanum/Tar

I think maybe when Price and Raven(rather its Python if we're following the timeline) clash, Raven's scent is more so on persistence and sharp, aiming to overwhelm and leave a bitter aftertaste. Price however, is more like asserting dominance like waves of smoke and charcoal, it brings an uneasy tension to the room

like Ash vs Charcoal, one is brewing and sizzling, the other is searing and burning, the longer it goes on, the more charcoal will overpower ash

The reason Im picking Molasses and Labdanum/Tar for both of them is for the possesive aspect LOL they want each other badly, drowning each other, sticky, heavy.

I want to write a fic aksjdhaksd but it'll take some time before I can cook HAHA for now I just have ideas and scenes playing in the back of my mind hekajsdhk

[anamelessfool]

Sweeter Red

Copia/OC (Cardinal Marian) Romance | Complete, 10 Chapters

AO3 Link (18+ MDNI)

Your kiss so sweet, your sweat so sour…sometimes I’m thinking that I love you... but I know it’s only lust. Copia is a scrungly little nerd and this totally happened to him.

Tags (Full List on AO3): Workplace Relationship, Demi Copia, Dom/ Sub Undertones, Awkward Tension, Voyeurism, FWB, Praise, Switch Copia, Time Skips

Excerpt (All my NSFW Fics live on AO3)

There's something about Cardinal Marian. Maybe it's the way she infuriates him with her laissez-faire attitude, or ingnites his soul with envy of her free spirit. Rage and love, at a certain point they merge together into an overwhelming burning in the heart and mind: passion.

Anamelessfool Fic Masterlist(18+ MDNI)

This is my favorite fic I have written. It was the first one where I was like, "I can do this!" If you haven't read it, please enjoy. 💗

[mockerycrow]

omg okay so uh the laswell medic wife fic?? how?? how’re you so good at writing?? i just..wanna eat it. i feel like it’s have a sweet flavour, not like overbearing sweet but yhat perfect amount with a lil sour undertone because stress 👍 anyways love all your work as always 🤯🤯

-🪦

JEKFKSKD STOPP IM BLUSHING THANK YOU!! i’m really proud of that fic ngl :’) im a queer woman and writing a sapphic piece just felt really good and natural. i’m so happy you enjoyed!

[marcspectrr]

hi :) could you perhaps drop some of your favorite jjpope fic recs? thank youuu!

Hi!! I'll admit, it's been a WHILE since I've read for obx but I do have some mayward fics in mind that I'd LOVE to share :)

if i had a gun

stay and finally // beautiful stranger

Please, just do yourself a favor and binge all of @johnbbutmakeitace 's works. It'll be a good time, I promise. The characterizations are always on point, I honestly can't hype them up enough.

tell me, is it worth it? by the lovely @maybankiara

This fic was scrumptious. Amazing depiction of the kind of love between them, amazing characterizations (as always), amazing JJ and JB brotherly bond on the side, just amazing.

august slipped away by @gayroman

I read this back in March and I still think about it. The best word I can think of when describing this writing is gorgeous, because it is thoroughly gorgeous. An intimate, vulnerable, in-character love confession that stuck with me.

Folsom Prison Blues by @pope-mayward

This one is unfinished but I loved it nonetheless. The summary immediately pulled me in and even though I read it back in August of last year, it still tickles my brain sometimes. JJ fresh out of prison? Getting mistaken for Luke once he's back in the obx? There's this undertone of mystery to it that's quite addicting.

Sour Memories by @the-pogues

Here's a soft one-shot for you. A slow Saturday morning filled with sleeping in and reflecting, with some baby!pogues scenes to develop JJ's introspection later in life.

A Very Pogue Halloween by Trogdor19

This short one-shot had some ultimate Pogue goodness as well as some cute mayward fluff and humor that had me giggling, the characterizations are *chefs kiss*.

If Only The Gold... by Trogdor19

Okay so, this one is a throuple fic, however, it has some of the best mayward I've ever read. The fic starts out with and is heavily centered around JJ and Pope in the beginning and it's absolute gold (no pun intended), I HIGHLY recommend this fic to anyone. I've literally read hundreds of obx fics and it still remains to be my all time favorite fic :)

These are just off the top of my head and are closest to the surface as far as memory goes (which is not that good lol). I could definitely be better with keeping track of what I read and what I like so if I find some more, I will definely add on to this list :) Again, I have been out of the loop lately so all of these are from a while ago, but they are truly some of the best imo!

[hp-fruit-fest]

Another month down, one that provided more yummy fruitiness!

FIC. Draco/Harry. Rated: T. Words: 749. Werewolf Draco. Established relationship.

Long fingers pluck a blackberry from the bramble bush, and place it onto a pink tongue. Rolling it around his mouth, savouring the sweet-sour taste, before biting it with white, sharp teeth, and it goes pop in his mouth. 

🧺 Read on AO3 🧺

FIC. Draco/Hermione. Rated: E. Words: 4,294. Underage. Rape/non-con. Age difference. Professor Draco. Student/teacher. Dom/sub undertones. Extreme dub-con. Orgasm delay/denial. Praise kink. No Voldemort AU. PWP. Unhealthy relationship. Grooming.

Hermione wanted to writhe and bounce and grind her hips into his until her vision went white and spots formed in her periphery. She wanted to pant and gasp and moan as she combusted, shattering into a million little pieces of bliss while he kept her upright, supporting her always. She wanted to pulse and clench around him, walls fluttering frantically until he painted them white, mixing his fluids with hers and joining her explosive, carnal state of pleasure. She watched it all play out in her mind’s eye, all too tempting and enticing. Professor Malfoy wanted her to sit still. Hermione was enamored by him. She would do anything for him. And right now, he wanted her to warm his cock while he graded essays. She could do that.

🍏 Read on AO3 🍏

FIC. Hermione/Severus. Rated: M. Words: 2,030. Professor Hermione. Fluff. Pining. Meet cute. Seduction by fruit.

Professor Hermione Granger stumbles upon a secret grove of fruit trees on the grounds of Hogwarts and ends up learning more about her former professor (and current colleague) than she ever thought possible.

🥃 Read on AO3 🥃

FIC. Sirius/Remus. Sirius/Remus/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 3,911. Secret relationship. Trans Remus. Humor & smut.

Severus grumbled as he marched to the Portkey Office for his next Order assignment: checking up on Sirius Black. Of course, the bastard had to hide on a tropical island, and Professor Lupin was nowhere to be found, so the task fell to him. He knew Albus was having a little laugh back in his cozy office at Severus' expense. Albus had claimed it would be a lovely holiday with an infuriating sparkle in his eye, making Severus want to hex the imbecilic glasses off his face. However, by the end of the weekend, Severus was considering sending the man an extra large batch of lemon sherbets.

🌴 Read on AO3 🌴

FIC. Sirius/Remus. Rated: E. Words: WIP. AU. PWP.

Remus finds Sirius hiding and working in the coffee belt in South America. Though siesta time is usually meant for rest, these two find something else to do instead.

☕️ Read on AO3 ☕️

[poedameronthighs]

common tongue | poe dameron x reader

poe dameron x gn!reader

word count: 2,153

kinktober: day 14 - love bites

warnings: NSFW 18+, oral sex (m receiving), love bites, possessive!reader, autistic!reader, autistic!poe, dom/sub undertones?, dirty talk?, pls tell me if I missed something

a/n: for @the-purity-pen kinktober list. title from hozier. ngl I didn't think this fic was gonna go like this but I'm a fan. half of this just. set up tbh.

read on ao3

"You're going to Naboo?"

The words burst out of your mouth as soon as you step through the door and into your shared room with Poe, who's bent over his duffel. Poe straightens up when you enter, and you watch the conflicting emotions battle out on his face - happiness at seeing you and concern at your tone.

"Uh-" he begins eloquently. "I thought you knew?"

His words are tentative, an upturn to his voice that turned his statement into a question.

"Five days?" you press, stepping closer. Poe turns to face you fully, brow furrowing as he reaches for your shoulders.

"Baby - sweetheart, it's just a recruitment mission. You'll hardly miss me. Why are you upset, I've done these before." His expression is heartachingly genuine and earnest, concern evident on his face. This wasn't like you - you go with the flow, you roll with the punches, even surprise missions for either of you.

You deflate at his touch, his words. The corners of your mouth turn down as you fiddle with the hem of Poe's shirt at his hips.

"You just got back, is all," you murmur. You'd thought you'd have more time with him before either of you left or got so busy the most you could do was curl into each other and fall right asleep.

You can't see his face, but Poe's body tilts in towards you and you know his expression has melted into something softer, gentler. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek.

"It's just a recruitment thing," he repeats. "Leia needs me to go with her."

Lifting your head to meet his gaze, you lift your eyebrows, unimpressed.

"She needs your pretty face," you say bluntly and privately cherish the look of exasperation that appears on Poe's face, his softer expression of concern completely disappearing. This is a conversation you had had before and Poe didn't want to admit what you are convinced is the truth, because the numbers are there - recruitment spikes any time Poe shows his face on official business; he says jump, the recruits say how high. 

"That is not why she wants me," Poe insists, rolling his eyes, hands drifting to your waist. Your mouth curves into a smirk, all danger, no mirth.

"It is so. Everyone at your fancy function is going to see you walk in and instantly become obsessed with you," you say, like it's fact. It is fact. You'd seen it happen in real time. "False modesty doesn't suit you, Dameron, you know how fine you are."

Even worse - the thought sours your mood further when you realize you won't be with him, won't be able to stake your claim even as he charms the whole room.

Something shifts in Poe's eyes and he tilts his head, just barely, slightly enough that if you hadn't been watching his face you wouldn't have seen it.

"Baby…" he drawls, digging his fingers into your waist. "You aren't jealous, are you?"

"Damn right, I'm jealous," you all but snarl, and the intensity of it surprises you both. Still - you see it in his eyes - I can work with this - and he knows that you know it; how many times had similar conversations gone down when you flirted a little too recklessly for information?

You and Poe were similar, sometimes similar in all the wrong ways, unfamiliar in all the right ones. Your jealousy burned differently than his. Poe showed it on his face, in his actions, the icy timbre of his voice; you showed it by giving it back to him - leaving a mark.

"I have two hours," Poe tells you, out of the blue, but it's not, and you know what he's saying - I have time - I want to - do you want to? 

Maker- Maker, you want to. 

You answer by hauling him in for a bruising kiss, enough that Poe staggers against you, clutching your waist, groaning at the slick press of your tongue at his mouth. He'd been gone for days - you missed him so much. Sometimes the only way you could tell him was by showing him, climbing into his lap and shoving your groins together, kissing him like a right hook. This time, you press your hands under his shirt, to his belly, pushing his shirt up and yanking it off. He ducks in for a kiss again but you shove him backward, and then you're both tripping over each other in your haste to get to the bunk.

Poe sits down hard on his ass, elbows beneath him keeping him propped up as you clambered up and straddle his thighs. You flatten your palm against his sternum and press, pushing him down flat on his back. Maker, no one ever made you feel the way he does. Poe doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do and the fact that he lets you do this with him, to him - sometimes it feels like a blaster bolt to the chest. 

You know your face is playing out your thoughts for Poe to see because his flushed expression wavers briefly. Instead of giving him a chance to speak, you lean down and dig your teeth into his pec, over his heart. Poe jolts beneath you, gasping raggedly, and winds his fingers through your hair at the back of your skull, holding you against his skin as you bite and suck, until you sit back and touch your fingertip to the blooming red mark. It would last for awhile. You hope it will last for as long as he's gone.

Poe murmurs your name, and you look back up at him, feel something jolt between your legs at the flush on his cheek, the desire in his eyes - you let him haul you close enough to kiss. You let him have his turn, tugging your lower lip between his teeth until you hiss, kiss and kiss you until you're panting. Then you pull away and scoot back down his chest, pausing briefly at his throat to dig your teeth in there, not enough to bruise, but enough that he felt it. You liked to keep him to yourself in the private places, where no one would know but the two of you. Usually.

You mark your way down his chest and belly, leaving him shuddering and gasping and hard by the time you reach his waistband, and you sit back to fumble eagerly at his belt, shoving his pants down around his thighs, leaning in to scrape your teeth across his hip bone. Poe hisses and jerks and gasps a moan when you do it again. 

"Fuck, I love you," you blurt, surprising yourself when you sit back up to yank his pants down all the way. You feel like you're a mess, even though Poe hasn't done much more than touch your shoulders, grab your hair. Your own arousal is burning hot between your legs and you want him.

"Baby," Poe starts, and it turns into a strangled, choking sound when you press your palm to his cock through his underwear.

"What was that?" you ask, and it's a little mean, but when Poe doesn't answer, just grunts and squeezes his eyes shut and bucks into your hand, it's his own kind of revenge. You run your palm up the weighty length of him through his underwear, grinning at the damp from precum - then you slip your fingers beneath the elastic and pull it down and off.

He is so pretty. Fuck, Poe is so pretty, all of him, his mess of curls, his flushed face, the marks you left on his chest, his cock, rosy and warm in your grasp. Poe grunts when you wrap your fingers around him, chokes back a moan. You tsk at him as you settle between his legs, running your palms along his thighs, releasing your grasp and just - looking.

"Poe," you murmur, softest thing you've said since this started. He cracks his eyes open, lashes already damp, and something in you thrashes because - because nobody else gets him like this. Nobody. "Baby. You know what I want?"

It takes Poe a moment to shake his head, then nod, before hesitating and shaking it again. You smile and keep touching his thighs softly but firmly - avoiding his cock.

"I want to suck you off. I want you to be a good boy and come in my mouth. I want your hands in my hair. But more importantly, I want to bite you here, on your pretty thighs, until it bruises and hurts and every time you walk or stand or sit when you're gone, you're thinking of me."

Poe's chest heaves and he moans at your words, but you're not quite done and you keep going, raising your voice just enough that he could hear you. 

"I want you thinking about me all the time, until Leia asks you why you can't focus and you have to come up with an unconvincing lie, because you're thinking about my promise to fuck you so good when you get back. Nobody else gets you like this," you say, settling on your elbows. "Nobody."

His moan turns jagged and rough when you sink your teeth into the meat of his thigh. You aren't blind - you know how pretty he is, how everyone looks at him. You hate it for so many reasons, mostly because he's so much more than anyone ever thinks or expects. Also because they shouldn't get to look at him like that, nothing but lust in their eyes. You know Poe doesn't go for that shit, and you're glad, if only because you've always been too protective of the people you love. A lot of folks say Poe gets to be picky with him company - most of them don't realize that's exactly why he's so picky with it.

And that's part of why you hate him going to functions like this. Nobody cares about him for the right reasons. You want to go with him. You'll have to settle for making him ache.

You leave a constellation of red marks on Poe's inner thighs, a few straying out at the v of his hips, the sharp bone of it. You have him panting and whining for you, for anything, one hand buried in your hair, the other gripping the sheets. You want him in your mouth, want that musky taste of him, the velvet weight against your tongue. Poe moans at the first touch of your hand, jerks when you lick from the base of it all the way to the tip, and swallows him down.

Poe jerks and bucks into your mouth, before you can get your other arm across his hips, holding him down so you can have your way with him. It had, admittedly, been a minute since you'd blown him; Poe likes to keep you close as he can, which is achingly endearing. Even when he gets his mouth on you, which is one of his favorite hobbies, he takes his time, holding your hand, stroking your hip.

You are less kind. Or maybe you are, in a different way. You wish you could rip orgasm after orgasm from his body, until he was shaking and sated, pliant when you touched him and cleaned him up. You'll have to settle for blowing him like this, thighs littered with the aftermath of your sharp affection.

He comes like this, cock in your mouth, thighs tensing around your head, his own head thrown back, and Maker, fuck, the lines of him, head to throat, throat and down the arch of his back, thighs and hands flexing - you didn't know how to describe it. You don't want to, not to anyone.

You keep licking, stroking at him until his hand in your hair grips, push-pulls you off and away, beckoning you closer with his other hand, and you go, because you love him. You tell him so, curled near his shoulders, brushing you hand across the marks you left on his chest. Poe catches your other hand, brings it to his face, presses into it. He kisses your palm and gives you a tired smile.

"I love you. I'll miss you. I'm sorry you found out so late about the mission. I didn't know about it until today," Poe says softly. His voice is wrecked; yours does not fare much better.

"You don't have anything to apologize for, sweetheart," you tell him, and stroke his hair back from his forehead. Honestly, he doesn't. But you hate when you make a plan and it's disrupted last minute. "Maybe I just wanted an excuse to mark you up," you add with a smirk.

Poe's expression changes, going a little darker around the edges.

"You don't need an excuse for that," he says, drawing you close and kissing you sweetly, filthily. When he draws back, he is smiling. "Now, about that promise…"

[myulalie]

This series was created for smutember 2022 and features explicit and explicit-adjacent content for Alex Rider (specifically Yalex). All fics are stand-alone works and exactly 1 000 words.

Library: Power move

AU: Canon Divergence, Teacher-Student Relationship

Alex has been meaning to get his hands under the substitute teacher's clothes since Gregorovich took over biology classes.

Partner swap: Wrong place, wrong time

Established Relationship, Hostage Situation

Alex ditches K-unit and gets a kick out of riding a motorcycle with Yassen. Things get naughty.

In the rain: Give and take

Dubious Consent, Future Fic

A break up sends Alex off-balance, and he only narrowly escapes an assassination attempt thanks to Yassen.

Cruise: Contrite lovers

Rent Boy!Alex Rider, Dom/Sub Undertones

On a yacht cruise in the Mediterranean Sea, with nothing much to see except more rocks in the water, Alex fights off boredom by any means necessary...

Don’t get caught: A little luck

Disarming Bombs, Near Death Experiences

Alex is on a mission to disarm a bomb near the Louvre, but Yassen, surprisingly, beats him to it. All is well, except the timer is still going, and they might be out of luck…

Only one bed: Dawn on the Thames

Sharing a Bed, Hostage Situation

Taken hostage by Yassen for his own safety, Alex plans his escape.

Special occasion: Fifth of April

Established Relationship, Birthday Surprise

Alex organised for a helicopter ride on Yassen’s birthday, and maybe a little extra as well.

Be quiet! Standard Procedure

Phone Sex, Dirty Talking

Alex hijacked the communications on Yassen’s mission, and proceeds to distract him.

Surprise sex: A rare kind of domesticity

Future Fic, Established Relationship

Alex catches Yassen by surprise while trying to initiate morning sex, and gets a lot more than he bargained for.

Double penetration: Honey and Sour Cream

AU: Online Dating, Kink Negociation

Yassen invites Alex over for dinner as they draft up a BDSM contract.

Just the tip: If it's the last thing he does

Trapped in an Elevator, Gun Kink

Alex doesn’t take Yassen seriously, or maybe he does. It’s all very confusing for one hot and bothered Russian assassin.

Give it all: Precious things

AU: Canon Divergence, Scorpia!Alex Rider

Sometimes, Alex wishes Hunter had never betrayed MI6 and instead remained John Rider, double agent for the British government. Yassen seems to feel the same.

Put it in… writing: Illicit Report

Secret Relationship, Established Relationship

Alex writes it all, if only to prove himself that it really happened.

Show: Alex Rider, Stripper Extraordinaire

Undercover Mission, Stripper!Alex Rider

Alex puts on a show for Yassen.

Hot tub: Warm and mellow infinity

Hot Springs, Drinking & Talking

Alex and Yassen end up travelling together to see the northern lights.

Something new: One of a kind

Enhance interrogation, Torture, Dacryphilia

Yassen can’t even tell what was the conflict of interest at hand this time, but Alex’s so called enhanced interrogation leaves a lot to be desired.

Take charge: A fair share of luxury and extravagance

AU: Canon Divergence, Scorpia! Alex Rider

Yassen challenges Alex’s authority, but they eventually come to an understanding.

Movies: Artful negligence

AU: Celebrity, Actor!Yassen, Singer!Alex

Yassen and Alex have some time to kill before the award ceremony.

Orgy: There is an art to it

Undercover Mission, Swinger Party

Alex learns a little something about himself while undercover at a swinger party.

Few clothes: Blue Infinity

Crash Landing, Love Confessions

A mission gone wrong finds Alex and Yassen stranded on an island and waiting for backup.

Balcony scene: A parting gift

Church Sex, Religion Kink

Each Sunday, Yassen comes to the church service with reluctant feet, and fears he’ll combust upon setting foot on sacred ground.

Office sex: The best alibi

AU: Canon Divergence, MI6!Yassen

The intern hooking up with the brand new partner surely would make for good gossip when they inevitably get fired.

Creative procreation: Fall evenings

AU: Omegaverse, Omega Lock, Knotting

They found a compromise in seasonal getaway weekends for their mating cycles.

Lust at first sight: Metaphorical gasoline

Shotgunning, Undercover Mission

This disguise really suits the spy; that much is obvious, but Yassen never expected Alex’s undercover persona to do it for him.

Picnic: Vantage Point

Dom/Sub Undertones, Outdoor Sex

Yassen makes a point of starting with dessert.

Up high: In the lavatory, with the semi-automatic

Airplane Sex, Mile High Club

Years of training and a tendency to be nosy get the best of Alex (and Yassen).

7 minutes in heaven: Heavenly Solitude

AU: Prison, Shower Sex

Alex follows Yassen into the shower, but the other inmates will only stay in the mess hall for so long...

Afterglow: Wanted Men

Las Vegas Hook Up, Cuddling

Alex doesn’t know what he meant to find in Vegas except some trouble cheating at the casino, but life (and Yassen) have a way of surprising him.

Swallow it! Don't damage the goods

Mission Gone Wrong, Role Play

Yassen and Alex perform their usual routine when Alex is caught in the megalomaniac of the week’s lair.

Free day: Artistic Liberty

AU: Classic Music, Pianist!Alex, Composer!Yassen

Alex loves playing Gregorovich. Yassen Gregorovich hates the way Alex plays his legendary compositions.