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#as always i am punctual

lovings4turn · 4 months

Note

Lando has often said he has a big neck and I am a big fan of neck kisses even not sexually speaking (most people see them just that way). So what about various moment of kissing Lando's neck (peck, various little kisses, etc). Like before/after a race, on stream, at a party, after waking up, while cooking, to give a couple ideas

oh nonnie darling thank you for this.. i'm a huge neck kisser in every aspect so this was perfect prompt material!!

it's always been a joke, to lando, at least. having a huge neck comes with the job, after all. he has to withstand g-force one way or another. but what he doesn't realise, is how much you love it.

it's become a tradition. ever since you got together in 2021, you've gone through the same routine pre-race. a kiss to both cheeks, for luck. a kiss to his lips, so he remembers you. and a kiss to either side of his neck, for strength. you can't count the times a photographer has caught you, trying to frame it as something scandalous. but in reality, it's anything but. it's a reminder that you're there to support him through the gruelling race, and lando dedicates his every lap and podium to it.

fans have also caught on. you rarely appear in streams, but when you do, they adore it. getting to see lando a little softer, more in his element, is something the fans eat up, but your cameos are always the star of the show. twitter definitely went crazy when you appeared one stream, pressing a kiss to the crook of his neck before asking if he wanted a tea, a coffee, a snack. lando, in true fashion, only shrugged it off with a smirk.

and many may praise the invention of the alarm clock for ensuring they wake up on time, but lando owes his punctuality to you. more specifically, your kisses. he's groggy when he feels a sensation against his skin, but quickly stirs as he registers your lips against his neck. a soft grumble escapes his lips, only providing a vibration against your lips as you pepper kisses to his neck. a raspy "g'morning, baby" escapes his lips, and he knows he's had the intended reaction when you imprints curve into the shape of a smile.

lando loves that it's your go to spot for affection! any time you pull him into a hug, he holds you tight and squeezes your waist, anticipating the feeling of soft lips against the skin of his neck. you can feel him physically relax against you, taught muscles turning to mush at your presence.

and of course, lando works to return the favour! with every kiss he recieves to his neck, you get one back! sometimes it's a little awkward, lando having to nudge your face out of the crook of his neck with his chin, but it's all worth it for the feeling of his mouth against your neck, kisses as gentle as fallen snow.

cause the truth is, lando loves your neck just as much as you love his

#.° ༘🗝️⋆₊ becca’s drabbles #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris blurb #lando norris drabble #f1 x reader #f1 x you #lando norris x you #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 drabble

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literaila · 6 months

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hey v ! what about peter and reader getting ready to go somewhere and after reader puts on some red lipstick peter can't stop kissing her ?

lipstick

warnings: ugh, peter

“how many times have you done that?”

peter is standing behind you, leaning against the wall, probably ruining your focus, or your makeup, or your sanity. he’s probably staring just to mess with you.

you refrain from smiling in the mirror. wipe a smudge with your nail. “i don’t know, peter,” you meet his eyes, and his nefarious smirk. “how many times have you watched me do it?”

“i got lost somewhere around the first time.”

you laugh at him, crumbling the napkin you’ve been using, now filled with kiss marks, and turning it around so you can throw it at peter. “are you sick?” you ask him.

instead of answering, he licks his lip and unfolds the napkin, staring at the red marks, creases and tireless efforts arranged in a messy pattern. “this is like art.”

“why are you acting like you’ve never seen anyone wear lipstick before?”

“what?” he asks, hand to his chest. “i cant watch you get ready? i’m banned from being in the bathroom when you are?”

“yes, and yes.”

it does not escape your notice when peter tucks the napkin into his pocket for safekeeping.

he shrugs. “i don’t mind breaking the rules.”

you scoff at him and pat his shoulder as you walk past him through the doorway. “i would’ve locked you out if i knew you were going to be weird about it.”

“weird? how am i being weird?”

“you were lurking. you’re still lurking.”

“i’m talking to my girlfriend. that’s part of our contract.”

“you’re following me.”

peter smiles. “well, i like you.”

you roll your eyes, almost—almost—smiling when you feel his arms wrap around your waist. “please don’t make me argue about your stalker like tendencies.”

“we don’t have to argue,” peter says, kissing the space beneath your ear. his breath is hot.

“i need to put my shoes on, peter.”

he smiles, his teeth clashing against your skin like a dreadful reminder. some type of jumpscare—minus the fact that you merely lean into him, sans jumping. “we can spare fifteen minutes.”

“how can you be thinking about anything besides the fact that we’re already late to meet may?”

he nibbles on the skin by your collarbone, then licks it, as reprieve. “it must be the lipstick.”

“you’ve literally seen me with lipstick before. i wore some on our first date.”

“‘s probably why i like it so much.”

his lips are needy as they crawl around your skin. his hands are stationary, but they pose their own threat as they lurk.

“peter, we have to go.”

“i’m not known for my punctuality,” he spins you around, his lips curled in mischief, “you know.”

“i’m aware.”

you refuse to indulge him. your brows furrow, your hands held in the air—just so you can avoid accidentally touching him. purposefully.

“then why are you so worried?” peter asks, kissing your cheek.

“i’m not kissing you,” you say, instead of answering.

“you’re not?” peter pouts like a child. he is far too grown.

“no.”

“how come?”

you try to pull away from him, but, shockingly, peter is stronger than you are. your will is weak. “you’re going to smudge my lipstick. i just finished.”

“you have more, don’t you?”

“not the point.”

“what?” he asks, his voice so serious and teasing. “you don’t want to kiss me?”

“no, i do not.”

you look away from him, admiring a wall that has always been there.

“are you sure?” peter asks, ducking so he can catch your eyes again, because he is nothing if not cruel.

you break, pouting. “peter,” you whine, “we’re not going to be late again.”

“i think we are.”

“you can kiss me when we get home later,” you promise, trying again to wiggle out of his grasp.

“that is a terrible compromise.”

“you won’t compromise,” you snap back. “what else am i supposed to do?”

peter grins, tilting his head. “okay. i have an idea. how about i kiss you, and then we leave? you don’t even have to kiss back, even though we’d both prefer it that way.”

“i’ll kiss you,” you mock him. “you’re the worst negotiator i’ve ever met.”

“then how come we haven’t left yet?”

you scowl at him, and he scowls back, but his eyes are alight.

your skin is ravenous with an ache to touch him, he’s so close that kissing him would be nothing—merely breathing, really—but you don’t want to lose this game to peter. and you dont want him to stop looking at you.

he pretends to check a watch. “hmm, it’s getting awfully late.”

“are you british all of the sudden?”

peter grins, biting his lip before he tries to bite you. you lean away. “if you like my accent, all you have to do is say so.”

“i like it when you get out of my way, and stop trying to sabotage me. i like that a lot.”

“no clue what you mean, dear.”

you roll your eyes and manage to cross your arms in his hold.

“i wonder how we could solve this,” peter muses, tapping his finger on your waist. “it’s a big problem.”

“i could leave you behind and have lunch with may myself.”

“that’s one option.”

you roll your eyes again.

“i was thinking something else, though,” peter says, and he’s closer now, but you’re sure that you never saw him move. “something more… proactive.”

“shove it, peter.”

“you don’t even want to hear it?”

you sigh, leaning your chest into him, out of pure delusion. “fine. what?”

peter smiles at you, eyes catching eyes.

the look on his face is soft, delirious. he’s got that look in his eyes, and that smile on his face, and he’s still staring at you like he’s mesmerized by whatever you’re doing.

“what?” you repeat, but softly, like you can’t find your voice in the chest cavity peters taken hold of.

“kiss me,” he says, softly, and it’s really not your fault that his lips are already brushing yours.

and it’s not your fault when you lean in, sighing in relief at the mere feel of him.

you’re almost breathless, from the tiniest of kisses.

but then you kiss peter again, and again, and your hands finally wrap around him—keeping hold of something real in this fake reality—and your voice isn’t your own when you groan at peter for making you do this.

you have evacuated your body. you have lost common sense.

but it doesn’t matter, because kissing peter has always made you forget all of that.

and it still does, when he pulls back, grinning like he’s won. “see?” he says, voice ragged. “it was simple.”

“we’re going to be late and it’s your fault.”

peter laughs, kissing you again, staring at your red lips. “gladly. i’ll take all the blame.”

“and you’re making it up to me later.”

“whatever you say,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your bottom lip.

he releases you and watches as you finally put on your shoes.

you don’t think it necessary to mention the red marks on his lips. it’s not like it’s your fault they’re there.

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thestoryofusstan · 2 months

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Uptown Girl

pairing: fashion designer!harry x younger!fashion designer!reader

summary: you’re working in a designer boutique, and just so happen to have a late entrance when world-renowned designer harry styles visits for a collaboration. he seems to take a liking to you, and you aren’t sure if that makes you relieved or more anxious

warnings: some cursing, not edited as usual

harry styles was a well-known name. ceo and founder of pleasing, a nail polish and perfume company. he also owned many other companies, but really, there were too many to keep track of. he was also, most importantly, one of the biggest fashion icons.

you were very familiar with him— had saved up every penny when you were younger to buy a pleasing perfume and now owned a very small collection of their nail polishes.

so, of course, you lost your shit when you found out he’d be coming into your job.

you were a fashion design major at nyu, and had gotten a job at a very esteemed designer (not one of the name brands, but still). although you did expect the job to have more opportunities to.. actually design fashion, you were still grateful nonetheless.

it was just your luck that the day that harry styles was coming in, you were late. it wasn’t your fault! really, it wasn’t! you were always on time because you got anxious at the mere thought of being late.

by the time you parked, you practically ran to the store, silently praying you wouldn’t break a leg as you were running in heels.

“i’m not late am i?” you ask breathlessly as you finally enter the store, fixing your hair and outfit.

you had curled your hair the night before, so they were still pretty much intact. your outfit consisted of black heels, brown dress pants, and a black, tight-fitting turtleneck.

“yes, y/n. you are late,” your boss gave you a look, and you knew you’d be in trouble. “mr. styles, i am so sorry. our employs are.. usually punctual.”

your head snaps over to look in the direction she was talking, and your heart drops when you make eye contact with harry styles.

great.

“mr. styles, i am so sorry,” you apologize.

“it’s perfectly alright,” he gives a kind smile.

that makes you feel a bit better.

“y/n, a word in my office please.”

you deflate as you look back to your boss and follow her to her office

the second the door is closed, she’s chewing you out.

“how unprofessional can you be? i know you are in college, but jesus christ!”

“i’m sorry! there was so much traffic, and my car is so old it stops working if i go faster than 50, and—“

“i don’t need excuses,” she cuts you off. “i need you to be more professional.”

you inhale, “i am sorry, but it was not my fault. i have never once been late before, and you know that. it was a one-time mistake.”

“it better be.”

she walks out and slams the door to the office, leaving you alone in there.

you look up to the ceiling as you bite your lip and try not to cry.

after taking a few minutes to collect yourself, you walk back out into the otherwise empty store and slap a smile on your face.

you do your usual tasks of tidying the store and fixing the mannequins.

mr. styles, his team, and your boss (her name was diane but she was more like satan) were all working on sketching designs and throwing some fabrics onto the mannequins to get a rough idea of what they wanted.

“i don’t know if i like it,” mr. styles murmurs, staring at the mannequin. you glace over at it and have to force yourself to not make a face.

no shit, he didn’t like it. it was bad.

the sketch was good, but the color combination was all wrong and the whole thing was too.. chunky. in the way that everything was flowy and baggy, so it had no shape.

“well, what do you not like about it?” diane asks.

“i’m not sure. it doesn’t look quite right.”

“you have to fix the shape,” you say to yourself as you fix the files of custom orders to be done.

“what was that?”

your head snaps up, and you realize he heard you.

“oh. uh.. i was just—“

“talking to herself,” diane interrupts, glaring at you. “she’s an intern. don’t mind her.”

“no, i’d like to hear what she has to say. might have the answer to our issue. let’s hear it— what was your name again?”

“y/n l/n,” you squeak out.

“well, y/n, what do you think is wrong?”

you hesitantly walk over, “well.. i can see the idea. but it’s just not.. executed well. the whole thing is too flowy.”

“isn’t the point for it to flow?” he asks, raising a brow.”

“it is,” you answer quickly, “but.. there has to be something that isn’t as.. baggy, i suppose. something has to be tight-fitting. it doesn’t have any shape. it just kinda.. looks like a box.”

he stares at you for a moment, and diane clears her throat.

“y/n, this is time for the professionals. get back to—“

“no, diane. she is.. she’s right. it does need shape.”

at his words, the people around him begin to pin it differently.

“and the colors,” you rush out. “the colors don’t.. it’s supposed to be a statement piece, right?”

“that’s the goal,” he nods.

“well.. the colors are too.. light. they’re more pastel, which is fine, but for it to really be a statement, it’s better to use brighter ones. or at least make one of them brighter. i would.. i think make the base the brighter one.”

diane looks ready to kill you.

mr. styles laughs, “well, don’t you know a lot? diane, where did you find her? wish my interns knew half as much as her.”

your face grows hot.

“she’s a student,” diane sighs.

“a student?” he asks.

“i… uh.. i study fashion at nyu. fashion design— i’m in my last year.”

he seems to sense that you're damn near about to shit your pants, because he grins at you (slightly patronizing, but also kind), before turning back to diane.

"i'd like her to be with me for the rest of the project. y/n, darling, how much are y'makin' here?"

your stutter, "uh--... $15 an hour."

he tuts his tongue like that's horrible, "i'll pay.. ten times that while y'workin' with me."

your eyes widen, "wh-- that's not-- you don't have to--"

"nonsense. it's what most people i work with start with. i'll up it if needed, of course. and you obviously don't have to, but i'd love your insight."

"i-- no, i-- i'd love to, i.."

"great," he grins, and you're extremely dizzy. what the hell was going on?

"uh.. mr. styles, if i may give my opinion," diane pipes up.

"you may," he eyes her skeptically.

"y/n is a student. she's still learning, and she's never worked on anything here. it's very risky to--"

he cuts her off by asking you a question, "have you designed things? sketched 'em out and all that?"

you nod.

"i'd hope you've also done the whole... actually sewing things together and really making them?"

you nod again.

he turns back to diane, "seems like she's got experience," he looks back to you, "do y'have photos of any of those?"

"yeah-- they're.. i think i left them in my car. i have photos on my phone."

"we'll meet later to look at all that, then. i'll give you my number later. for now.. i'd like your input on our other ideas."

for the rest of the day, you follow harry around, and you sort of feel like a lost puppy just following him around and answering when he asks something of you.

after a while, you got more comfortable giving your input without being prompted, but you always tiptoed around what you were really trying to get at in fear that you'd anger him.

at the end of day, he put your number in his phone with the promise that he'd text you later about more details.

the text came three days later.

From: (Maybe): Harry

Hello, Y/N. This is Harry. Would you be free to meet tomorrow at noon to discuss the details of the project? Please bring your sketches and any photos of designs you've done, and anything else you feel necessary.

To: Harry Styles

Hi! I should be free tomorrow, yeah. Where do you want to go?

From: Harry Styles

I'll let you decide.

To: Harry Styles

There is this one coffee shop named Maman?

Sent Location: 239 Centre St, New York, NY

From: Harry Styles

Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Have a nice rest of your day.

To: Harry Styles

You too!

you spend the rest of your night fretting about what to wear. you were stuck in between classy but not too fancy, but also not too casual. comfy, but not so comfy that you looked like you didn't give a shit. but also not so uncomfortable that you were, well, uncomfortable, and looked like you were trying too hard.

you'd eventually settled for something simple. long, light-wash denim skirt, a plain black top, and some mary janes. you tied some of your hair back with a white ribbon, did some natural makeup, and called it a day.

you got to the coffee shop at 11:45 and ordered your drink, as well as a chocolate croissant.

harry walked in at exactly 12:00, and grinned when he saw you sitting at a table, scrolling on your phone with a manilla folder and sketchbook beside you.

really, you can't blame him! you were pretty, he'd have to be blind to not know that. and really, you weren't that much younger than him.

he's 29, and you're 23. he's not a stalker, he just did a background check like any good business person would do.

so what he finds you cute? the relationship would be strictly professional. besides, you deserved a break from your horrible boss. contrary to what diane thought, the walls were not soundproof, and he could hear her chewing you out.

sure, he'd done that to one of his employees once or twice, but it was always deserved, and never on the first time of being late. that was ridiculous.

"good morning, y/n," he greets. your head snaps up to make eye contact and he has to force himself to not laugh. he wasn't laughing at you, per se. it was more so the fact that he found it amusing how jumpy you seemed around him.

"good morning. did you order?"

"not yet. never been here, so i've got no clue what's good."

you open your mouth to respond, but the barista calls out, "large iced honey lavender latte with a pain au chocolat for y/n!"

you give a sheepish smile and run up to retrieve your food and drink. when you come back, you take a sip of your drink and set what looks to be a chocolate croissant down on the table.

"well, i'm more of an iced coffee girl. and i also don't really like the taste of coffee, so i've got a bunch of sugar in mine. what do you usually drink?"

"'m more of a black coffee, to be honest. iced is fine, but hot's better."

you wrinkle your nose, "i don't know how you stand the taste of coffee. it's so bitter."

"better than what you've got!" he laughs, "might as well just down a sugar packet."

you giggle at his teasing, "only psychos drink plain black coffee. this," you hold up your drink, "is so much better."

"oh, is it now?"

"yes, it is," you cross your arms proudly.

"lemme have a taste."

you hand over the drink, and he takes a small sip before coughing, "christ, y/n! that cannot be good for your health!"

"hey, i'm still alive, aren't i?" you shrug.

“that you are.”

“well… just ask for an americano, i guess. the rest of their drinks are kinda sugary and fun.”

he got his drink, and once the both of you were sat down, he got to business.

“so, how long have you been designing?”

“i’ve been doing it since middle school. i.. uh.. i saw that one american girl doll movie. where she was a designer. and i just got obsessed. obviously they weren’t good, but…”

“so you’ve got a lot of experience then?”

you nod. he grins.

“may i see the sketches?”

you grab the folder off the top of the sketchbook and pass it over to him.

he flips through it in silence for a few minutes, and you anxiously nibble at the skin around your fingernails.

“..so?” you ask.

“they’re great. really, you’ve got talent. i can’t draw for shit, so you’ve got me beat,” he laughs.

you laugh with him, “most of those are just ideas, i’ve never made them. but i have photos of the ones i have made. i printed them so it’s easier.”

you pass over the manilla folder, and he opens it to look at all the photos you’d printed out. there was around fifty— those were just the ones you actually liked and were confident showing.

he holds one up, and your cheeks flush. “why’s this the only one where you’re the model?” he asks.

“that was.. uh.. that’s my senior prom dress.”

his eyes widen, giving you an impressed look, “you made your own prom dress?”

you nod, “i just wanted something very specific, so.. i figured i’d just make it myself.”

“y’look great— the dress looks great,” he coughs. “you’re very talented.”

“thank you,” you blush.

“so tell me why someone as talented as you is working in diane’s shop not designing a single thing?”

“i didn’t realize that was the job. i just got excited when my professor told me they were interested in my work, so i took the job. i thought i’d at least do a little designing, but.. it pays.. decent, though.”

he scoffs, “darling, 15 bucks an hour is not decent pay. that’s what you make being a hostess. you’re an artist. someone would pay thousands of dollars for just your sketches.”

“i don’t think i’m that good—“

“you are,” he’s firm. resolute. there is no room for argument with him. “i think you’ll be a great asset to the project. i could use your… talent. i’ll send you an email with the nitty gritty details. i’ll see you soon, y/n.”

and with that, he stands and leaves, leaving you to sit there, dumbfounded, confused, and grinning.

a/n: guys i have too many series going on 😭😭

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry #harry fic #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #designer!harry styles #designer!harry styles x reader #harry styles x designer!reader #harry styles x fem!reader

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likedovesinthewindd · 4 months

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request: I wanted to request a Farleigh Start x fem reader. Where they are both American and he asks that she helps him with an essay. During the process, he starts having feelings for her because of her honesty towards him but she doesn’t realize it until he says it out loud.

★ tags: @darkeyesshine

You were surprised when Farleigh had initially approached you for help on an essay. You knew him, not personally, but the two of you attended tutorials under the same tutor, and before that, you've seen him around campus plenty of times, usually accompanied by his plethora of friends.

You were, however, not at all surprised when he hadn't shown up the next day as he promised. You checked the time on your wristwatch; thirty something minutes passed since you had arrived at the library. You couldn't say it was uncommon for him, considering he wasn't exactly known for his punctuality or perfect attendance, but you'd be dammed if he was going to waste your time when he was the one who needed your help.

You huffed in annoyance, beginning to pack away your books and call it a day when you noticed Farleigh's tall figure appeared from behind one of the bookshelves, eyes darting around until he saw you sitting by one of the long tables. He took a seat at the chair next to yours rather than the one across from you as he started rummaging through his bag.

"You're late," you said, reopening your books and trying not to show too much irritation at his tardiness and still remain cordial. "So sorry ma'am. Won't happen again, ma'am," he said sarcastically as he dropped his books on the table with a loud thud before sighing. "But in all seriousness, I really am sorry. So, uh, shall we start?"

To his credit, he stayed true to his promise (kinda) and would always be early enough for your sessions, most days looking like death itself due to a previous night of partying or studying. Farleigh was actually very smart; people always seemed to forget that considering strings had to be pulled to get him into Oxford due to his past behavior and poor choices. You still liked him, though, and had grown used to his sarchotic personality and the playful banter that came with it.

He himself had grown quite fond of you, too. He liked that you never spared him his own verbal lashings and never sugar-coated anything; whether it was critique on his writing or telling him he wasn't going to see 30 with the way he needed a smoke break every five minutes.

Today was the last session before he was to submit his work for moderation, and as you read through his work for the last time, you could feel his eyes burning holes into the side of your head. You chalked it down to him being really eager to get all of this over with.

"It looks really good," you smiled as you slid the file back to him. You were half expecting him to simply take the file and be on his way with a half-assed thank you thrown your way, but he actually seemed very grateful for your efforts. "I owe you one," was the last thing he said before he was already halfway across the library. Later that night, he would be at your dorm room door with a gift bag in hand.

"A thank you gift," he smiled as you took the bag from him. "It wasn't necessary, but thank you," you said. "It definitely was," he argued, "You saved my ass."

"I also kinda wanted a reason to come and tell you about Anabel's little get-together tomorrow night. The Christmas party?" he added. "I know about it. And I heard its invite only," you said, crossing your arms. "That's why I'm telling you. I'm inviting you," he said very matter-of-factly. "Why do you want me to go, don't you have friends?"

"Are we not also friends?" he said, sighing when your eyebrows knit together in confusion. "C'mon, are you really gonna make me beg?"

"No, I don't mind going with you, I just didn't think you liked me that much," you said truthfully. "Well, I do like you. I really like you," he said with a smile. "Tomorrow night. Seven," he added before he was gone.

#saltburn #farleigh start #farleigh start x reader #farleigh start x you #farleigh x reader #farleigh x you #likedovesinthewindd

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mattitties · 2 months

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Can you do one when you talked to a guy and he was flirting (at a party btw). So matt becomes rlly angry and the whole ride home u guys were fighting. When u arrived home you went upstairs changed into smth like rlly showy (as pj's) and it turned on matt. Then y'all took it to the bed. (I wrote you as in y/n)

based on this request ^^

possessive - matt sturniolo

SMUTTY AF!!! dom!matt and sub!reader. choking, tying up, degrading, the whole nine.

“Come onnnn, we’re gonna be late!” Matt groans from the kitchen.

“Sorry, coming!” I call back as I spray some perfume on before walking to meet him. “Ready!”

“Great, let’s go,” he huffs, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

We’re going to one of the fancy LA influencer events that the triplets get invited to, which I also get invited to by association. Chris and Nick had been hanging out with friends all day so we’re meeting them there, and I may have made us leave a little later than we planned on.

“You know how long it takes you to get ready, so you should start getting ready with enough time so we can actually leave on time,” he tells me after a few minutes of silence in the car.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” I apologize. “But we’re not thattttt late, and it’s a party! Nobody shows up on time.”

He waves a hand at me as if to say forget about it. “It’s fine,” he says. “You look beautiful anyway, so being late is worth it if I get to stare at you looking like this all night.”

I roll my eyes and smile. “You look pretty good too. Maybe we should just turn around and skip the whole thing and have a party by ourselves.”

“Oh don’t tempt me,” he smirks. “I don’t even wanna go to this thing anyway.”

“I know you don’t,” I pat his thigh for some comfort. “Let’s just spend like, an hour there, and if we wanna leave I can say I don’t feel good or something.”

When we arrive, he immediately grabs my hand without a word and makes a beeline towards Chris and Nick.

“Fucking finally!” Chris says, throwing his hands up. “We were placing bets on if you guys were gonna show face at all.”

“I made us late, but we’re here now!” I try to take the attention off of our lack of punctuality. “I’m gonna get a drink, you guys want anything?”

“Nick and I are good,” Chris holds his Pepsi can up.

“Matt?”

“I’m okay baby, thank you,” he smiles and gives me a quick peck before I head to the bar.

“Vodka cran, please,” I tell the bartender, then open Instagram to pass the time as he gets my drink.

“Vodka cran is your drink of choice, huh?” a voice next to me says. I look up and see a brunette with green eyes leaning next to me. He looks familiar and has an incredibly friendly smile. Probably an influencer, but I just can’t place him.

“Oh, yeah,” I smile. “Always has been. It disguises the vodka taste pretty well.”

“Yeah, I always just stick with beers. I can’t stand hard liquor, it’s awful.”

“Me too. I’m such a pussy when it comes to alcohol. If it’s too strong I just won’t drink it,” I tell him. The bartender puts my drink in front of me and I pull out my card to pay as I thank him, but am stopped by this man (whose name I do not know) as he pulls his own card out.

“Let me buy you this one,” he smiles and winks. He’s clearly flirting, and I obviously have no intention of doing anything, but why would I turn down a free drink?

“Wow, thank you!” I say. “That’s very nice, I appreciate it.”

“No worries. Do you wanna–”

“No, she doesn’t wanna. Thanks man,” he’s cut off by Matt, who had put his hand on my waist before I even realized he was behind me. I look up at his face. He looks pissed.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend,” the guy says. “Um… I already paid so… don’t worry about it… but…” he walks away awkwardly without finishing his sentence.

“Free drink! Score!” I smile at Matt and hold up my cup.

He doesn’t smile back. “Mhm.”

My face drops. Okay, clearly he doesn’t find the situation very amusing. “Matt, come on, I wasn’t gonna do anything. We had barely made any conversation before he offered to buy it for me.”

“He was clearly flirting with you. Why were you even entertaining him?” he asks.

“I wasn’t entertaining him! I said two sentences to him, got my drink, and he pulled out his card before I said anything else. What was I supposed to say, ‘no, don’t buy me a drink, I have a boyfriend’?”

“Yes!!!” he shouts before walking back to the booth Chris and Nick were sitting in.

I follow him, not sure if I should give up or try to prove myself more. I choose the latter.

“Okay, first of all don’t yell at me. Second, all he did was buy me a drink. It’s not like he tried to kiss me or anything, he was just being nice!” I retort.

“He was not just being nice,” he says as he sits back down. “Guys never buy girls drinks just to be nice. He was trying to get in your pants.”

“Okay, well so what? If he started doing anything weird or outwardly flirtatious I would have left the situation immediately. I don’t think it’s a crime to accept a free drink,” I tell him, sitting next to him.

He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “It’s not about the drink. It’s just about respect. You don’t accept a drink from a guy when you have a fucking boyfriend.”

I sit for a moment, thinking about my next words. I still don’t think I did anything wrong, but I don’t want to keep fighting, so I back down. “Okay,” I say softly. “I’m sorry.”

He looks at me blankly. “Do you know what you’re sorry for? Or are you just saying that?”

Damn, he knows me too well.

I don’t say anything.

“Yeah, exactly,” he scoffs. We both sit in awkward silence for a couple minutes, neither of us being in any mood to talk to people, until I bite the bullet and speak.

“Do you wanna go home?”

He rolls his eyes and gets up. I look at him, unsure of what he’s doing, until he says, “Are you just gonna sit there or are we gonna go?”

I follow him to the car, and we sit in even more awkward silence. I don’t want to piss him off even more, so I say nothing.

“You know, it’s not even about the drink anymore,” he starts. “It’s about the fact that you don’t even know what you did was wrong.”

“Because I don’t think it was wrong,” I say calmly. “I was never going to reciprocate any flirting or do anything to show I was interested. All I did was accept the drink.”

He grips the wheel in frustration as we pull into the garage. “Whatever. I’m done arguing about this. It’s just ridiculous that you can’t see where I’m coming from.”

“I can see where you’re coming from,” I tell him. “I just think you’re being a little too jealous and possessive for this situation.”

He looks at me as he turns the car off. “You wanna see possessive? Go inside and get on the bed.”

“What?” I ask. His whole demeanor just changed. He was pissed before, but now he’s like… primal. Talking through gritted teeth. His neck veins bulging. It’s kinda hot…

“Do you need me to repeat myself? Go inside. And get. On. The. Bed.”

Oh shit. He’s got some crazy animalistic thing going on. And I don’t know why, but I’m incredibly turned on. So I listen.

I get out of the car, go inside, and sit on his bed. He comes in shortly after, taking off his belt without breaking eye contact with me.

My heart is racing, but I keep staring at him.

“You have no idea how possessive I can be,” he tells me, leaning onto the bed with both hands on either side of me. Our faces are inches apart. “You may not know what you’re supposed to be sorry for, but you’re gonna apologize to me in the way I want. Got it?”

I nod, and he grabs my jaw. “Words.”

“Yes. Got it.”

He stands up and removes his shirt from the back of his collar with his tattooed arm, then leans back over me and slowly pushes me back onto the bed with his hand around my neck. “What do you have to say to me?” he says deeply.

“I’m sorry…” I whisper, debating on whether or not I should continue my sentence with the word I know will drive him crazy. I go for it anyway. “Daddy.”

His eyes darken and he kisses me harshly, not giving me any warning before his tongue slips into my mouth. I’m completely at his disposal, and I need more.

“You’re gonna show me how sorry you are, yeah?” he speaks into my mouth as he reaches into his now unzipped pants and his black briefs and pulls out his dick. I look down for just long enough to see how hard he is, as red as ever and making his hand wet as he rubs his tip. I know what he wants from me, and who am I to deny him of that? I usually would be a brat, but I guess I’ve been a brat enough for him tonight.

I sit up and softly take him in my hand, running my thumb over his slit and looking up at him through my eyelashes. He groans under his breath. “Come on baby, don’t tease.”

At that, I wrap my lips around him and begin to bob my head, swirling my tongue and licking up and down. He responds by taking my hair into a ponytail in his hand, looking down at me with furrowed brows and his mouth slightly open. “That’s it,” he moans. “Take daddy’s cock just like that.”

I push myself deeper and grip his thigh for support. His hips are bucking and he’s hitting the back of my throat. I’m fully expecting for him to cum in my mouth until he pulls out and flips me over onto my stomach without warning.

“Hands behind your back,” he says, and I immediately oblige, laying my wrists on top of each other near my lower back. He uses the belt that he was wearing earlier in the night to tie my hands together, then he lifts my hips up to meet his own and lets my dress fall forward so that my bottom half is accessible for him.

I whine as I feel his tip run over my soaked thong, and then wince as he gives me a harsh slap. “You were a bad girl tonight, you know that?” he says as he pulls my underwear off and tosses them.

“I know, I’m sorry,” I apologize. “Please fuck me.”

“Shut up,” he says, but he’s clearly just as eager – he pushes into me quickly, giving me a few seconds to adjust before he begins thrusting hard.

“FUCK,” I shout as the mix of pain and pleasure washes over me.

“Mmmm, yeah baby?” he grips my hips and pounds into me, the sound of our skin slapping overtaking the whole room. “You like being punished?”

“Uh huh,” I’m incapable of saying anything else. My orgasm is already approaching and I push my head into the bed for some sense of control as I feel my body start to fall apart.

“That’s it princess, keep clenching around my cock like that,” he says, his thrusts getting deeper and deeper. He reaches his hand around my neck and lifts me up so my back is pressed against his chest; his mouth is right next to my ear, and it’s heavenly.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” I whimper.

He groans in response and chokes me tighter as I clench around him. “Fuckkkkk, that’s so good.” He repeats a string of curses, his dick twitching inside me before I feel him releasing and his thrusts get slower and softer.

We stay there for a moment regaining ourselves, then he undoes the belt on my wrists and pulls out of me. I collapse on the bed, too out of it to even notice him coming back with a wet towel to clean me up.

He lays next to me and kisses my temple.

“Are you mad at me?” I ask, turning my head to look at him. “I really am sorry.”

He shakes his head. “I was over it halfway through the drive home. Just fun to fuck the anger out, right?”

I smirk and nod my head. “So if I get another free drink from a guy, it’s fine?” I tease.

His face drops. “Don’t push it.”

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x reader

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matrixbearer2024 · 2 months

Text

Enough With The Schemes!

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: Ngl I kinda had this in my drafts just because I didn't know how it'd ever fit into the story but I decided to fix it up and post it after @vespers-night-sky's fanart for the "Get Off My Screen" Series- the direct continuation and reader's death is in the works folks, I've just been trying to figure out the pacing ahsojskqjds- I am not gonna be a Hazbin Hotel episode jkjkjk Anyway, thank you thank you THANK YOU ALL for the support with the series and think of these little things as filler episodes before the big reveal. Anyways, as usual- happy reading and I hope you all enjoy! The series in it's entirety can be found on my blog under the #Get Off My Screen Series

You didn't know how much more of Vox's shenanigans you could take.

First it had been the wallpaper war-

Until now you couldn't stop his face from being a permanent fixture to your devices-

But it was fine, he could have that!

You lamented over not having [Favorite Fictional Character Name] in your backgrounds anymore but you know what it was fineeeee-

You honestly couldn't tell if having his glitchy grinning face was an upgrade or cringe central.

Then he figured out how to absolutely lag out your computer at some point.

You seriously wanted to punch his monitor head from frustration because of it.

Especially when he had the nerve to laugh at your irritation-

This asshole-!

Now, he was absolutely blowing up your phone and devices with memes or just anything under the sun.

Not that messing with the notification settings would help-

Because somehow he'd figured out how to completely bypass those too.

If this was why that Alastor guy and Vox had a tiff you could practically relate.

Your phone just continued to buzz and vibrate on the table next to you.

Not that you could be fucked with it at the moment trying to cram a paper your professor assigned last BLOODY MINUTE!

That was of course until the Vox desktop companion grabbed the cursor and just didn't let you have it back.

As much as you tried, the darn thing only emoted angrily and refused to give you back the damn arrow.

Your eye twitched as you tried to maintain your cool, only to get up from the desk and scream obscenities to no one in particular.

The day had been a particularly bad one and you really just couldn't deal with Vox's bullshit right now.

"Helloooooo! HELLOOOOOOO?! Earth to (Y/N)! Pick up your fucking phone!!!"

Oh for the love of god he better not have changed your ringtone too-

You rubbed your face in an attempt to calm down before finally checking your phone.

Honestly you expected it to be something really stupid, but seeing what his messages were about made you feel slightly guilty for ignoring him the whole day.

Vox grew used to the routine you both had, so it was no surprise that your sudden inactivity drove his anxiety up the walls.

Poor guy thought of all the worst possible cases that could've happened to you-

He'd greet you in the morning and you would always reply afterwards while eating breakfast.

Save for the times you'd gotten sick or just felt under the weather.

After all, you had classes in the morning and he had broadcasts to air.

You also hated being tardy, similar to how he saw punctuality as something extremely important.

The two of you would intermittently chat within the day and tell each other if you had work to do so you both could leave each other alone for a designated time.

Vox often didn't adhere to this, but he'd always keep his distractions to a minimum if you asked.

Actually neither did you, sometimes you'd be the one spam sending him anything you could think of just to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Then you would wish him a good night's rest and he would eventually reply back with a silly gif or emoji that bode you the same.

He just grew used to it, the familiarity of your companionship in his monotonous day to day.

So whenever something fell apart in the routine you both had, Vox couldn't help but worry that something happened to you.

Whether you'd gotten sick or just anything worse-

It didn't sit well with him when you didn't reply to his morning message like you often did.

Constantly checking his phone for any updates from you to find nothing.

Zilch, none, zero.

The worrying feeling only grew as time ticked onwards.

Even at your busiest you would still shoot him a memo saying that you were.

Which only made this radio silence-

Haha see what I did there-

Worse than it really was.

So what did Vox do?

Absolutely blow up your phone and devices trying to get your attention.

Only when he realized you were doing something on your laptop did he let the desktop companion he made for you interfere.

Not that he even really understood what he'd stuck his hands into.

"What the hell even happened to you today? You didn't even reply to any of my fucking messages! I thought something happened to you!"

"Well SORRY I couldn't reply to your terminally online ass. I was busy dealing with my shitty assignment workload."

The TV overlord quickly picked up that you weren't in a pleasant mood.

The way you typed was just a dead giveaway.

Glancing up at his schedule, Vox notified his secretary to cancel a few of his meetings before he replied to you.

"Anything I can help you with? I'm free for a good few hours."

You were taken aback by his offer, every time Vox would help you he didn't even bother asking.

He just straight up started editing whatever you were working on no matter what you said.

Who was this guy and what did he do with Vox-

"You aren't trying to bullshit me are you? Cuz I'm not in the mood."

"I can tell dollface, let me guess- your shitty professor again?"

You ended up ranting about the abruptly given assignment and just a bunch of other things that slowly ruined your day.

Vox just agreed with you here and there, shooting one word replies or emojis to show he was still listening.

All the while he made the desktop companion let go of your cursor and he looked over your work.

Wow your writing was still absolutely shit-

"So now I've gotta submit this fucking paper before midnight or I'll get a 40% deduction."

"Don't worry about it, we can finish this in an hour. Anything else?"

It was an economics paper you were struggling on and this was Vox you were talking to.

You shouldn't have been surprised that he already knew his way around the topic.

You glanced up from your phone and already saw him editing your essay.

Why didn't you just ask him for help sooner??

"I think I can handle the rest. Thanks anyway, mind if I put on some music while I write?"

"As long as I get to pick some of the songs."

"Deal."

It shouldn't have done anything really.

You shouldn't be having this funny feeling in your gut.

A fuzzy warmth that bloomed because Vox was so quick to drop everything and help you.

Even if it was just something minor like your paper.

Still, you couldn't help but smile as you put on some relaxing tunes and typed away alongside your favorite digital companion.

Just like that, you both melted back into the usual cycle of talking and working.

A casual harmony that you were more than happy to just live in for the moment.

BONUS:

Both you and Vox were just casually chatting by the time his secretary called him away for the scheduled broadcast.

Of course, you wished you could see what he was actually doing but stopped before you could say so.

Instead you just wished Vox well in the broadcast.

"Of course doll, and you know me! I'll be just fine."

Well, his broadcast was going fine-

Until his screen suddenly glitched and randomly played a tune from your playlist.

Had he forgotten to unlink himself from your devices?

It took a few seconds for Vox to compose himself but his show thankfully went on without another hitch.

You on the other hand?

You were just having a personal concert in your room to unwind while waiting for Vox to come back.

So it came as a surprise when the song you played randomly paused and made the Bluetooth disconnect sound.

You didn't connect it to anything-?

Though your questions were eventually answered when Vox blew up your phone again.

This time you couldn't help but laugh.

You were friends with a demonic overlord sure-

But it was hard to fear him when he was such a doofus.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox x reader #vox x you #Get Off My Screen Series

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queenshelby · 9 months

Text

Chemical Reactions (P. 1)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Smut in later parts, Age-Gap, Infidelity

Words: 1,867

Note: The fic is spoiler free and fantasy.

It was just before Christmas when you took up a scholarship at Berkley and, since you were young woman at the tender age of twenty-two, you still could not believe your luck.

You got in to one of the most sought-after courses in the US when it came to quantum physics, which was a field so new and progressive that, to many, its attributes appeared to be rather absurd whereas, to you, it was a way of understanding the world.

The class you had applied for was that of J Robert Oppenheimer who was a well-known physicist and whilst you had only ever read about his works in the academic papers at Harvard, you were eager to finally meet the man whose work impressed you so much.

Being female in the field of physics, however, came with a price. Your skills had often been disregarded because of your gender and being excluded from experiments was not unusual either. As such, you were cautious and kept your obvious excitement at bay as, no doubt, criticism was a concept that your fellow students knew just too well and, in your mind, it was always easy for others to criticise those who they did not yet know, i.e., the new and possibly only female student in their class.

***

On your first day, when you arrived to the impressive building, you realised that you were over twenty minutes early and this, too, was not surprising.

You were punctual most of the time and when you weaved your way through the building, you were surprised by how little time it took for you to find the lecture room, which, thankfully, was unlocked and had a few other students already inside.

You selected a seat one row from the front, in a spot that, to most professors, said "I am eager to learn” which you hoped was beneficial seeing that, at least for now, you were the only woman in the room.

“Would you be accepted by your peers?” you pondered, but your thoughts were quickly interrupted when, who you assumed to be your professor, entered the room.

He was a frail but attractive looking man, wearing a grey suit that was matched by a white shirt and a dark coloured tie. He was smoking cigarette and put his dark brown leather satchel on the table in front of him, rifling haphazardly through the mess of papers inside.

Against your will, you felt a displeased look settle onto your face. Is the professor's class going to be as disorganised as his abyss of a bag, you wondered? Were those other students' assignments in there, begging to be lost?

You smirked for a minute at the intrusion of your very own thoughts about Dr Oppenheimer before you instinctively pulled your cheek in between your teeth which just when more students began to fly in to the room.

“Oh look, someone must have gotten lost” one of them was quick to say with a grin as he had spotted you and your neatly laid out stationary.

“The biology classes are conducted down the hall, in the third room to the left” was what another one said, causing you to rise from your seat in order to speak up against this nonsense just before the professor himself did it for you.

“And what makes you presume that she is in the wrong room, Mr Handley?” Dr Oppenheimer asked almost sternly and his reaction most certainly surprised you as, until now, you did not think that he had even noticed you.

“She is a woman, sir” the man stammered somewhat reluctantly, causing the professor to furrow his eyebrows.

“And you presume that this prestigious establishment seeks to exclude women from studying in the field of physics?” Dr Oppenheimer then asked, causing you to grin silently. “That seems rather absurd, wouldn’t you agree?” he then went on to add, causing the young man to nod.

“Of course... I mean, of course not” the student stammered just before Dr Oppenheimer began to call roll which is something you did not even notice as you were too transfixed on his demure and the way he presented himself until, eventually, your hand shot up at the sound of your full name.

“Present” you said, feeling a blush coming to your cheeks as the class and Dr Oppenheimer looked at you, the latter's blue eyes lingering on you a bit longer than the others.

You forced yourself to hold his gaze, not sure of the intention behind it and then, suddenly, he spoke:

"Miss Y/LN, now tell us, what have they been up to at Harvard these days? This is where you have transferred from, correct?” the professor then asked just as his look towards you intensified even more. His deep blue eyes were seeing right through you and yet you managed to answer him confidently.

“Not much in so far as the physics department is concerned, Dr Oppenheimer. In the last year we experimented with nuclear fission, but I assume that, considering the current political climate, so has everyone else. We then looked at metaphysics, stars, the universe…” you explained before sharing some of your findings and conclusions which impressed not only Dr Oppenheimer but also some of the other students.

When listening to you talk, it became obvious to him that you were rather intelligent even at such a young age and your interest in science was one of great significance.

“None of this is new” one of the students then said nonetheless after you finished your explanations and outlined your conclusions, to which you responded rather sharply yourself.

“I didn’t claim that it was. I simply answered Dr Oppenheimer’s question” you pointed out and the professor was quick to take your side again.

“And I appreciate your thorough explanation Miss Y/LN. It helped me understand where you are at when it comes to the presumed knowledge for my class” Dr Oppenheimer went on to say and you knew that, whatever the true reasons were behind his questions, his intent was not as innocent as he made it out to be. He wanted to know whether the physics department in Harvard knew more than the physics department at Berkley which, luckily for him, was not the case.

The entire profession was well aware of the ‘program’ about to implemented by the US government and several physicists and educational departments began to protect their research with more earnest for a chance to cash in on the war.

But, Dr Oppenheimer did not appear to be one of those reserved physicists who were just in it for themselves. To the contrary, he really cared about making a difference and his research to date was well known within in the industry. He did not mind sharing his findings even if they were inconclusive and you have heard many stories about how he enjoyed working in the faculty as part of a group rather than on his own.

He was a leader but also a team player and, as such, when he wrapped up his questions for the day and announced the research project for the coming days, every student around him broke out into appreciative chatter as you remained in your seat, slightly dumbfounded, as the students were broken up into four groups.

---

“You worked in experimental before, have you not?” Dr Oppenheimer asked as, after a little while, he approached you and the group to which he had assigned you.

“I am pleased to know that you have read my file Dr Oppenheimer” you smiled after giving him a nod, which too is when you realised just how handsome he truly was. He must have been in his late thirties and seeing a wedding ring on this man’s finger came as a disappointment to you.

“I have read all of my students’ files” Dr Oppenheimer assured you just as you stood awkwardly at your table for a moment, debating whether or not to take the courage to ask him the millions of questions you had for him already until, suddenly, he prompted you to do exactly that.

"Did you have a question for me?" Dr Oppenheimer asked innocently as if he could have read your mind.

“Uhm…” you paused while cursing yourself already for having started your sentence with that godforsaken 'uhm' which, in your opinion, made you sound like an idiot.

"Yes, actually. I was wondering if, with this formula, you have considered the possibility…” you began to question, seeing how he had arrived at the calculations already presented to you and, just as you spoke with such great determination, you trailed off a bit as his gaze intensified.

“Quite frankly, you lost me there, at the end of your calculations but that is not to say that you are wrong” Dr Oppenheimer said almost politely as you looked at him somewhat flustered, causing your fellow students to chuckle and whisper behind your back.

“I must have lost my own train of thought just then. I am sorry sir” you said with blushing red cheeks as all of your confidence flew out of the window and you suddenly became aware of the way he was standing, with his hands against his hips, and the way he looked all together.

“Don’t be sorry Miss Y/LN. In fact, I am interested in exploring that idea of yours further, perhaps even after today’s lessons if you have time” Dr Oppenheimer then said as he adjusted the way he stood and smiled.

“That would be my pleasure, sir” you responded as you watched him spread his arms out on the table in front of you, far past shoulder width. He was leaning on his hands, causing the veins on his forearms to bulge slightly, which were exposed by the rolled-up sleeves of his white button-down shirt. He had his head tilted down a bit to look at you with those deep blue eyes until, eventually, he snapped out of his very own and somewhat intrusive thoughts which were thoughts you knew had nothing to do with quantum mechanics whatsoever.

Dr Oppenheimer then licked his lips lightly before speaking again, distracting you from the first few syllables of his sentence.

"Good, then please come and see when you finish for the day, Miss Y/LN. I will be right here, trying to figure out what you were on about” Dr Oppenheimer then said just as the bell began to ring and the students started to pack up their bags, seeing that most of them had experimental workshops to attend to in the afternoon which, of course, included you. You too had a workshop, which was one you did not look forward to.

“Yes doctor. I will see you this afternoon” you told him with a reluctant smile as you pulled your lab coat closer to your chest and forced your face to remain neutral, even as you felt the heat burning up your neck. You then gave him a curt "thank you" before lifting your chin and turning to leave.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #Oppenheimer #oppenheimer x reader #j robert oppenheimer #j robert oppenheimer x reader #robert oppenheimer

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faggot-greg-house · 4 months

Text

i am having thoughts and feelings about house and how his trauma is shown and fought against through his actions!!!!

his father was notoriously excessively punctual, even keeping food from him if he wasn't on time for meals -> he is constantly late to work. he spent his entire childhood being forced to be on time or to be punished for it! as an adult he has the freedom to make plans and decisions on his own, he can decide where he wants to be and when, and i wouldn't be surprised if he found being on time more stressful than being late because of his trauma

his father deprived him of food -> he has wilson buy food for him and constantly steals off wilson's plate. his father taught him that food is something he has to earn, whereas wilson does the opposite! having someone in his life who will buy him food and let him take their own and won't try to take that away from him is the exact opposite of what his dad did to him

his father was incredibly abusive, often isolating him from his parents and, at one point, not talking to him for an entire summer -> he is incapable of taking people's love for him at face value! he always has to push relationships until they break because he cannot accept that people would like him ("maybe i don't want to push this til it breaks"). he also is incapable of leaving people alone - he has to see and talk to the people around him. he has to know that other people exist who WILL talk to him!!

his father constantly criticized him and punished him despite him being incredibly smart and talented -> house has a huge ego (and it's deserved lol)! he spent his entire life being told he wasn't good enough, with his father hyperfocusing on any possible flaw. no one told him that he was smart or capable or talented and so he came to the realization that he has to say that about himself! he knows he's brilliant but he can't trust anyone else to recognize or compliment anything about him

i just have a lot of thoughts abt how house is a deeply traumatized man and a great case study of how abuse can impact so many parts of someones life. and i love him

#hate crimes md #house md #gregory house #john house #child abuse #my thoughts

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moonscriptsx · 8 months

Text

Daylight || 02 (M)

PART 1

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

SYNOPSIS: Between the endless flirty banter or secret looks of longing, the line between you and your boss had always been slightly blurred. But when a night out with friends has you and your boss meeting for the first time outside of the workplace, that line starts to become nonexistent as mutual feelings are brought to light.

PAIRING: CEO!Wonwoo x Assistant!Reader [with appearances by Mingyu (a self-proclaimed Cupid extraordinaire), Soonyoung & Joshua as supportive besties, Seungkwan & Seokmin as the life of the party, Seungcheol (a menace), and a brief glimpse of Chan.]

GENRE: Coworkers→Friends→Lovers!AU – Fluff + Smut [minors dni]

WORDS: 12.7k.

WARNINGS: Slowburn, pining from both ends. Reader is constantly in a silent crisis when it comes to feelings, and Wonwoo is possessive (both in and out of the bedroom). Mentions of alcohol, cursing, and grinding on the dancefloor. Wonwoo is a slightly hard!dom but talks you through it so sweetly it'll make you melt. Oral (both recieving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), messy orgasms. Slight choking, dirty talk, alludes to squirting. Wonwoo is a pussy fiend.

A/N: We've made it to part 2!!! Thank you to everyone who left messages/comments on the first part! Seeing such positive feedback has made my heart soar to the heavens and honestly a little emotional hahahaha. This is the first thing I've written in almost 4 years so I was a little apprehensive when it came to posting 'cause I felt like I was incredibly rusty. Anyway, enough blabbering from me – I hope everyone enjoys the final part! 🥰

PLAYLIST: wonder by shawn mendes // right here by chase atlantic // with me by sum41 // never let me go by florence + the machine // love (feat. zacari) by kendrick lamar // wfm by realestk // mine (feat. drake) by beyonce // fine line by harry styles

The pounding in your head is a telltale sign of a night well spent when you wake up the next day, a groan emitting from your lips. Somehow Soonyoung had convinced everyone to migrate from the club to a karaoke bar halfway through the night, resulting in you stumbling home drunk off your ass at half past three in the morning. And while a hangover is a sign of a successful night out — you want nothing more than to shove your face back into your pillow.

Just as you maneuver yourself to dive back under the covers, your phone buzzes from beside you, the ringer doing absolutely nothing to aid your headache as you blindly reach for the device, not bothering to look at the caller.

“Hello?” You grumble, irritated at the disruption.

A deep chuckle ringing in your ear has your body shooting straight up from your bed.

“Rough night, sweetheart?” Wonwoo’s voice is teasing and you can’t help but feel your face flush at the endearing term.

“I — Mr. Jeon!” You stutter out, face flushing with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t check to see who was calling before I answered.”

“Understandable,” he reassures. “With the amount of drinks we had last night I don’t blame you for sleeping in.”

Sleeping in…?

Bringing the phone away from your ear, you glance at the time on your phone.

10:45 am.

“Oh, fuck!” You cursed, ripping the covers away from your body as you scrambled to get out of bed. From the receiving end, Wonwoo can’t help but laugh as he hears the commotion on your side.

“Mr. Jeon, I'm so sorry —!”

“It’s quite alright, sweetheart,” there he goes again, using the term of endearment like it doesn’t send your heart hammering a mile a minute in your chest. “I just got to the office not too long ago. It’s not a big deal.”

But it is a big deal, you thought to yourself. Not once in the two years that you’ve been Wonwoo’s assistant have you ever been late. You pride yourself on being punctual, making sure to get to the office at least thirty minutes before you were scheduled just so that you could get everything set up and ready to go by the time you had to clock in.

“Sir I’m —“

“(Y/N),” Your breath catches in your throat at the sound of your name. “Are you in the office right now?”

Your eyebrows furrow at that.

“No,” you reply, confused.

“So why the formalities then?”

“I —“ you pause, trying to catch your breath from the sudden question. “You’re my boss. Am I not supposed to address you as such?”

“After last night, I’ve come to realize I don’t want you to call me anything but my name.”

Your face grows hotter at his words, flashes of the two of you unabashedly grinding against one another in the club fills your mind, and you’re sucking in a harsh breath as you try to ignore the heat growing in between your legs.

“Last night was kind of crazy, huh?” You bite your lip in nervousness, trying to steady your rapid heartbeat.

“It wasn’t enough for me.”

Oh, you thought to yourself. I’m fucked…

“Wonwoo,” you breathe out, and you can hear him sigh at the sound of his name.

There’s a brief silence on the other end and you’re starting to think maybe he’s regretting everything from last night to this morning until you hear his hum of approval.

“Anyways,” Wonwoo clears his throat. “Take your time getting to the office, sweetheart. You deserve a peaceful start to the morning.”

A soft hum escapes you at his words, an eyebrow quirking in amusement as you balance the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“Are you sure?” You muse, teasingly. “I’m scared the office will be in shambles by the time I get there.”

A chuckle reverberates from the receiving end, butterflies filling your stomach as your boss tuts quietly.

“I’ll have you know that Mingyu is doing a fine job —“

“No I’m not!” There’s a groan in the background, a giggle escaping your lips as you hear a scuffle on the other end. “He’s torturing me, (Y/N)!”

“I am not,” Wonwoo scoffs.

“He’s making me wait on hand and foot for him!”

You let out a full blown laugh at that, shaking your head at Mingyu’s dramatics.

“Aw, poor baby,” you coo. “He’s not used to having to do things for someone else.”

“Excuse me — hey!”

There’s a distant bang on the receiver, the sound of a lock clicking through the phone and Mingyu’s distant shouts as you realize Wonwoo had closed the door to his office.

“I should give him more work,” you hear your boss grumble. “He’s been far too happy these days.”

“I have some ideas,” you muse in response, making Wonwoo chuckle.

“Good,” he hums. “We can go over them when you get here.”

It’s half past twelve in the afternoon when you finally make it into the office, in a much happier mood than you are usually in when you arrive in the morning. An iced coffee is in your right hand while you carry your laptop bag in the other, greeting every scowling face you pass by as you make your way to your desk. Placing your belongings onto your station, you pay no mind to the mass of missed calls as you push open the door to your boss’s office. There’s a playful smile painted on your lips as you cross your arms over your chest, body leaning against the doorframe as Wonwoo looks up from his computer, the man smirking as he sits back against his chair.

“There she is,” he greets. “Did you have a nice morning?”

“I slept peacefully,” you respond. “But I was rudely awakened by a phone call.”

“Oh?” He asks with mock concern. “And who dares to wake the princess from her slumber?”

You bite back a smile, adjusting your weight from one foot to the other, and give him a pointed gaze.

“My asshole boss.”

Your response has Wonwoo throwing his head back, a genuine laugh escaping him as he grins at your words.

“Touche,” he beams. “It’s been a dull morning without you here.”

It’s a genuine sentiment that makes your heart pound against your ribcage, those damned butterflies fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach, and you can feel your cheeks heat up as you bashfully break eye contact. Clearing your throat, you try to get a hold of the nervousness as you shoot him a questioning glance.

“Was Mingyu not keeping you enough company?” You ask.

“Not the kind of company I had hoped for.”

Wonwoo’s words make your breath catch in your throat, his sharp gaze heated underneath the thick rims of his glasses, and you felt your mouth go dry as you watched him lean back against his chair. Broad shoulders are slouched in comfort, his toned chest visibly defined through the tight fabric of his shirt. His sleeves are carelessly buttoned up to his elbows, the muscles of his arms making you want to salivate at the sight, and you can only blink at him before you snap out of your daze.

Unfolding your arms, you push yourself off of the doorway and gesture towards your desk placed right outside his office.

“I should get to work,” you murmur, making Wonwoo frown. “I'm already hours behind and I’m sure Mingyu didn’t do much to help.”

Not waiting around to hear his response, you turn on your heel and tread back to your desk, all the while trying to keep your heartbeat steady and those damn butterflies out of your stomach.

“Kim Mingyu, I'm going to murder you.”

The grumble falls out dejectedly from your lips as you glare at the screen in front of you, mentally cursing the tall businessman into oblivion. Not only had he rearranged the setup of your email, he had completely screwed up the excel sheet for next week’s company meeting. Every detail you had notated for Wonwoo was now scattered and jumbled amongst the cells as they sat in completely different categories than they had been previously. If you had been one of those old cartoon characters, you were certain that steam would be coming out of your ears.

Inhaling sharply, you crack your knuckles and your neck before hastily getting to work. The setback of sleeping in this morning has its consequences as you sit at your desk and try – keyword: try – to fix the absolute shitstorm that Mingyu had left behind. A task which ended up turning into hours upon hours of you clicking from cell to cell, meticulously moving each key point back to its designated section. There’s a slight sting in your eyes as your vision blurred from having to stare at the screen for so long, and you huff in annoyance as you save the excel spreadsheet, mentally waving a white flag as you give up on the document for the day.

Running your hands over your face, you glance at the clock at the bottom left of your screen.

05:54 PM.

Sighing in annoyance, you glance around the office. Most of your co-workers had left right at five, not wanting to spend another minute stuck in their cubicle. Had you not slept in, you would’ve gotten out sooner rather than later, but you wanted to make up for the time (and mistakes Mingyu had made) lost.

Hovering your cursor over your email, you clicked the envelope and stared at the unread emails on your screen. A quick glance over the senders names has you instantly weaning out the priority ones from the junk ones, before you’re opening one from Seungcheol. Skimming over his response, you can feel the air in your lungs tighten as your gaze freezes over the last sentence of his response.

Ms. (Y/N),

Your speedy response as well as the insight you have provided is much appreciated! It’s nice to know that the man I am working on this project with has such a reliable and efficient staff working for him. Please tell Wonwoo I am looking forward to this meeting next week.

P.S; I did not realize a congratulations was in order for the two of you! I wish you a happy and healthy marriage! Many blessings to you both.

Choi Seungcheol – Personal Representative of Choi Industries

Glancing at the email Mingyu had sent from your account earlier that morning, your blood runs cold as your gaze darts to the signature printed on the screen below your response.

Much regards, Jeon (Y/N).

“KIM MINGYU!”

You’re fuming as you bolt out of your chair and yell out into the quiet office space, the quickened pace of your heart pumping loudly in your ears as your angered footsteps walk away from your desk and down the hallway into Mingyu’s office. If looks could kill you knew he would be dead as his eyes widened, a pleading - almost puppy like - gaze falling on yours as he raised his hands in defense.

“I didn’t do it!” He denies, and you can only grit your teeth at the businessman.

“Bullshit,” you spat. “You were the only one on my computer today.”

“How do you know that?” He asks, defensively. “You were out all morning. Someone else could’ve used it.”

“Don’t play with me, Gyu,” you grit out harshly. “This is my job you’re messing with!”

Mingyu’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” He questioned. “All I did was rearrange a few things -”

“My email signature!” You yelled, anger flaring through your veins as realization crossed his features. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

The defensive expression on Mingyu’s face washes into a smug one, brown eyes dancing with mischief as he smirks and crosses his arms over his broad chest.

“Oh, that,” he muses. “You don’t like it?”

“I am going to murder you,” you bite out, making Mingyu’s smirk widen into a shameless grin.

“It’s not that big of a deal -”

“What’s going on?”

You instinctively freeze at the deep rumble from behind you, eyes widening in alarm as you give Mingyu a warning glance. The man in front of you only beamed in delight as he leaned around your frame from where he sat at his desk to grin at your boss who was now standing behind you.

“Your assistant is threatening me,” he states, pointing a finger in your direction. “I don’t feel safe in this workplace.”

Wonwoo purses his lips, giving Mingyu an accusing glance.

“I’m sure it’s for good reason,” he muses. “She doesn’t just threaten anyone.”

“You’re taking her side?!” The businessman whines, slouching in defeat. “None of you in this office have my back.”

Your glare hardens as you stare at the man before you.

“Maybe if you weren’t such an insufferable prick we’d be a lot nicer.”

Mingyu’s mouth drops open at your words, hurt flashing across his features as his face falls.

“(Y/N),” he murmurs. “It was a joke.”

You could feel Wonwoo take a step closer towards you, the warmth of his body mere centimeters from your back as he towers over your frame to glare at Mingyu.

“What did you do?”

He doesn’t even have to raise his voice to get his point across, the harsh tone a warning in itself as he glowers at his friend.

Mingyu lowers his head in defeat.

“I changed her email signature,” he mutters, shamefully.

Wonwoo’s jaw sets.

“Changed it to what?” He asks. Mingyu’s gaze is still locked on the papers scattered on his desk.

“Jeon (Y/N).”

A wave of embarrassment crosses your features at Mingyu’s words as you fight off the heat that floods your cheeks. From behind you, you can feel Wonwoo inhale sharply, followed by an exasperated exhale falling from the CEO as he inched closer to your form. A fleeting touch of his fingers brushing against the small of your back has you freezing on the spot, your body not willing to move an inch as Wonwoo’s presence looms over you.

There’s a pregnant pause, no breaths taken, until a soft rumble reverberates against your back.

“Well,” Wonwoo begins, a smirk of amusement playing on his lips. “That explains the influx of texts and emails congratulating me on my marriage.”

A sharp turn of your head has your gaze falling on the amused CEO behind you, your eyes widening in shock as you stare at your boss. Mingyu lets out a bark of a laugh, a sigh of relief escaping him as Wonwoo’s eyes glint in the lights, his glasses long forgotten in his office as he quirked an eyebrow at you.

You’re rendered speechless at the two men, completely taken off guard at their unbothered stance on the matter at hand. Your weary gaze meets Wonwoo’s humorous one, your boss offering you a reassuring smile before he’s looking towards Mingyu.

“Go change it back,” he orders, giving his friend a warning look. Mingyu’s amusement diminishes instantaneously.

“Aw, c’mon,” he groans. “Is it really that big of a deal?!”

“Yes,” you grit harshly, glaring at the tall brunette. “It’s unprofessional.”

Mingyu pouts, eyes darting back and forth between you and Wonwoo.

“It wouldn’t be if it was true.”

His murmured words have your fists clenching at your sides, your lips parting to scold him once more when Wonwoo places a hand on your shoulder, urging you to stay quiet.

“Now.”

Mingyu flinches at Wonwoo’s order, his head hanging low shamefully as he begrudgingly pushes himself away from his desk. Wonwoo’s hand stays put on your shoulder, slender fingers gently grasping your body as he subtly pulls you into him as his friend trudges out of the office.

“And Mingyu?” He calls out, making his friend freeze on the spot as he half turns to look back at his boss. “Go pick up the food I ordered from Dae’s.”

Mingyu’s mouth falls open, a whine escaping him.

“What?!” He splutters, helplessly. “She’s the assistant -”

“And she’s assisting me with something else,” Wonwoo cuts him off. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

Closing his mouth, Mingyu hesitates, brown eyes scanning the two of you before he’s rolling them with a huff and walking away. You’re glued to the spot as Wonwoo’s sharp gaze falls on you, a frown painted across his lips. Without his glasses, there’s nothing shielding the piercing look in his eyes as he leans in closer towards you. There’s a flash of sadness crossing his features as he presses gently against you, his big hands finding purchase on the edge of Mingyu’s desk as he cages you between it.

“Mr. Jeon –”

“Wonwoo,” he corrects.

The deep rumble of his voice vibrates against your chest as he peers down at you, neck bent slightly as he lowers himself to level his gaze with yours.

“What’s going on?” You ask, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat as heat flares through your body.

Wonwoo’s frown deepens.

“Would it be so bad?” He asks, making you shoot him a confused look. You’re about to ask him what he means when he cuts you off. “Being my wife?”

Those damned butterflies flutter away in the pit of your stomach at his questions, your eyes widening in shock, and your lips part in surprise as you stare at the man in front of you. The close proximity of his body against yours has heat flaring through your veins as his warmth engulfs you, completely overtaking your senses as his hands move from the desk to slide along your arms.

“I – What..?”

Your spluttering doesn’t falter his movements once, his intense gaze boring into yours as his fingers glide along the expanse of your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“It’s a yes or no question, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his warm breath fanning against your cheek as his hands reach up to gently grasp your face.

You can’t help but to relish in his touch, eyes closing as you melt into his warmth, and your breath catches in your throat as he brushes his nose against yours.

“Answer me, (Y/N).”

Letting your fingers grasp around his wrists, you fight to catch your breath as you manage to meet his gaze despite the overwhelming fluttering happening in the pit of your stomach.

“No,” you finally answer. “It wouldn’t.”

Wonwoo’s grip on your face tightens, his eyes darkening with desire, and his lip curls upwards as he looks at you.

“I could make you my wife,” he states, and you almost whine with want as his lips brush against yours with every word. “Just say the word, sweetheart, and I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Mr. Jeon –”

“Wonwoo,” he growls, pulling you flush against him as his lips hover yours. “Call me anything but my name again and I’ll show you what happens to girls who don’t listen.”

A shaky breath escapes you at his words and you can’t fight back the shutter of anticipation as his lips ghost along the corner of yours.

“Wonwoo,” you breathe out, making him hum in response. “We can’t.”

“We can,” he reassures, and it takes everything in you to draw back from him.

“No,” you deny, even though every instinct in your body is screaming the opposite. “We can’t.”

Wonwoo clenches his jaw, lips pressed into a tight line, and he glowers at you as he shoots you a disapproving look.

“And why not?” He asks, gritting his teeth. “What are you so afraid of?”

“Well, for starters, you’re my boss,” you begin, trying to push away the heat pooling between your thighs as Wonwoo’s gaze pierces through yours. “That’s an HR violation that I don’t want to have attached to my name.”

“I can take care of that,” he counters. “Any violation towards you will be overruled.”

“That can be considered as nepotism,” you point out. “People are going to think I slept my way to the top.”

Anger flashes in his eyes.

“If anyone says anything negative towards you or about you I’ll have them blacklisted in all regions of this goddamn country,” he growls.

“Wonu.”

Cautiously you reach forward, your hands cupping his face as you try to settle the rage within him. His eyes are blazing into yours, a fire lit within the darkened irises, and he’s gripping your wrists like a lifeline.

“I mean it,” he affirms. “You’ve been with me for two years. Twenty-four months, (Y/N). You have shown nothing but loyalty towards me, and towards this company. You are the hardest working woman I’ve ever encountered, and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

Your heart swells at his words, a shaky breath escaping you as he presses you back against Mingyu’s desk.

“You have never been just my assistant,” he murmurs. “And you know it.”

There are a million sirens blaring in your brain, signaling for you to back off, to pull away and resist the urges. But with Wonwoo’s warm breath fanning against your cheek, his sharp nose gently brushing against yours, there’s no hesitation within you as you card your fingers through his hair and pull him towards you, your lips pressing firmly against his.

A groan of approval reverberates against your mouth as Wonwoo clutches your body against his, the tall stature of his frame enveloping yours as he bends you back against the desk. The heat emitting off of his body courses through your veins as his needy lips move against yours, his hands dropping to grip the back of your thighs as he lifts you up onto the desk. Your nails dig into the nape of his neck as his tongue runs along the seam of your lips, begging for you to part them as he wraps your legs around his hips. A moan escapes you as your lips part, allowing Wonwoo’s tongue to meet yours in a haste that leaves you breathless.

You’re drawing back from him, in what was supposed to be a brief moment to catch your breath, but he’s chasing your lips with no hesitation. Greedy hands are gliding along your thighs before he’s clutching them, blunt nails digging into the flesh as he marks them with his touch. The action draws a mewl from you, a desperate whine escaping your lips as you reciprocate the action by digging your nails into his back. Wonwoo growls against your mouth.

“Are you challenging me?” He asks, words muffled against your lips. You smirk in response.

“Maybe,” you tease coyly, making him draw back from you.

There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes and he’s pulling you even closer towards him until your clothed cunt is pressed against his hardening bulge. The hand that held your thigh starts to slither upwards, calloused fingers teasingly brushing against the hem of your lace panties as Wonwoo dips his head into the crook of your neck.

His tongue flattens against the juncture that’s between your shoulder and your neck before he’s grazing his teeth along your skin, your breath catching in your throat when you feel him run his fingers along your clothed core. He smirks against your skin when you mewl in response, your hips lifting off of the desk as an attempt to gain more friction. Wonwoo tuts under his breath, digits teasingly brushing against your panties.

“Needy girl,” he remarks, nipping playfully at your neck. “I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already soaked for me.”

You groan at his words, back arching as you try to press yourself flush against him.

“I’m always soaked for you,” you confess, and you nearly shiver at the flash of desire that sparks within his dark eyes.

“Yeah?” He asks, fingers now gripping the hem of your panties. “Have you been thinking about me, sweetheart?”

You can only moan in reply, hissing when the cool air of the office hits your bare pussy as Wonwoo slides your panties down your legs.

“Do you think about me being underneath your desk? About me being on my knees with my head between your thighs while I lick your cunt?”

Wonwoo’s words sends heat straight to your core, a whimper escaping you as he’s teasingly sliding his digits along your folds so he can coat them in your arousal. You could almost cry with the amount of tension between your thighs, your cunt begging to be touched as he levels his face with yours, dark eyes fueled with desire as they meet yours.

“Or do you think about me bending you over my desk and fucking you from behind?” You watch as he brings his fingers up to his mouth, his tongue licking your arousal clean off of them.

The lewd sight has you keening with want, your hands reaching out to grab his belt buckle as you blindly undo his pants. Wonwoo clenches his teeth before catching your wrist and pinning it next to you on the desk. The action causes you to smirk up at him, a feigned innocence playing on your features.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he grits, making the smirk on your face widen.

“Oh, I have every intent of finishing you.”

Wonwoo opens his mouth to retort when the distant ‘ding’ of the elevator echoes in the hallway, your eyes widening in alarm, and you hastily push your boss away from you as you scramble to climb off of Mingyu’s desk. Standing back on your feet, you can’t even spare a glance toward the man who just had his tongue down your throat (and who is now shoving your forgotten panties in his pocket) as you straighten your skirt and power walk back to your desk, trying to ignore the aching that settled between your thighs.

“Are you going to tell us what the emergency meeting is for?”

Soonyoung and Joshua’s worried gazes make you want to shrink into the booth, the after effects of what you and Wonwoo had done in Mingyu’s office weighing on you like a dumbbell crushing your chest. You had fucked up and let your desire get the best of you instead of listening to the rational part of your brain — and it was eating you alive.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you guiltily look down at the menu on the table.

“Something happened between Wonwoo and I,” you muttered, shamefully.

Soonyoung and Joshua blink, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Isn’t… isn’t that what you wanted…?” Joshua asks, and you frown.

“Well, yes, but —“

“No but’s, (Y/N),” Soonyoung tuts. “Clearly you and Wonwoo have feelings for each other. Something was going to happen eventually.”

“Yes, eventually,” you clarify. “Not this soon! Especially not with me and him almost fucking on Mingyu’s desk.”

“WHAT?!”

The sudden outburst from the two of them echoes in the diner, earning dirty looks from the other customers as you palm your face in embarrassment. Your cheeks grow hot as shame washes over your body, a groan escaping your lips as you peek at your friends, both of which are staring at you with wide eyes and open mouths.

“It just happened, okay,” you defended yourself. “One minute I was telling him we can’t pursue anything and the next I’m on top of Mingyu’s desk with Wonwoo’s tongue down my throat.”

“Okay, first — ew,” Joshua grimaces. “I don’t need a visual.”

“That’s kinda hot, actually,” Soonyoung counters. “Fucking in the workplace? Nice.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, glaring at both of them. “This is a serious issue.”

Joshua purses his lips, his gaze scrutinizing.

“Not really,” he dismisses. “From everything you have told us, it sounds like he reciprocates your feelings, honey.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung agrees. “And I saw you two at the club the other day. Whether you want to admit it to yourself or not, both of you are down bad.”

You roll your eyes at Soonyoung’s words, scoffing as you take a sip of your water.

“And besides,” he continues. “He’s your friend —“

“He’s my boss,” you reiterate. “I’m his assistant, Soonyoung. That’s unprofessional.”

“It’s only unprofessional if you make it unprofessional,” Joshua states. “I’m sure if the two of you became official you’re not going to flaunt it at the office.”

“Even if they did, who cares?” Soonyoung shrugs. “Employee relationships happen all the time.”

“Yes, employee’s date each other. Not bosses and their assistants.”

“I don’t know if I believe that,” Joshua clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Have you ever watched ‘The Nanny’?”

“Seriously, Shua?” You rolled your eyes. “First off, that’s a TV show, meaning it’s fictional. Secondly — she was his nanny, not his assistant.”

“But the point still stands,” he continues. “The two of them fell in love regardless of their positions. And they didn’t care who found out or what would come of it.”

You sigh, knowing he’s right.

“HR is going to have a field day with this,” you muttered. “And I’m going to get fired.”

Soonyoung shrugs as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Who cares,” he dismisses. “You can’t help who you gain feelings for. And, besides, if you get fired Wonwoo can take care of you.”

“I don’t need someone to take care of me,” you snapped. “I want to keep my job.”

“And he’ll make sure you will,” Joshua reassured you, gently placing his hand on yours. “But you have to talk to him, (Y/N). He has feelings too.”

Your shoulders slump in defeat at his words, a heaviness weighing on your heart, before you’re reluctantly nodding.

“You’re right,” you concede. “I’ll talk to him.”

Settling back against the booth cushions, Joshua offers you a smile of encouragement before he’s picking his menu up from the table.

“Alright, now who’s hungry?”

You did not, in fact, talk to Wonwoo.

Instead, for the first time in the two years that you had been working for him, you called out sick.

You knew that Joshua and Soonyoung were right when they told you to talk to Wonwoo, to lay out all feelings and thoughts in order to understand what it was that was going on between the two of you. But the mere thought of being in a room with him after what had happened in Mingyu’s office and the thought of not being able to trust yourself around him was too much, that all of the pent up feelings and tension would end up causing both of you to snap and make a move that would ultimately change your dynamic forever – as if it hadn’t already.

You knew that if Mingyu hadn’t gotten back to the office at the time that he did, the situation between you and Wonwoo most definitely would have escalated into something more. You knew that Wonwoo had been seconds away from dropping to his knees and spreading your legs, licking and sucking until you were a writhing, crying mess on his friend’s desk. And that’s why you called out.

“What do you mean you’re not coming in?” Mingyu had asked, exasperatedly.

“I’m calling out,” you reiterated. “I don’t feel well.”

“I –” Mingyu paused, a heavy sigh following. “Why are you telling me and not Wonwoo?”

There had been a brief pause on your end, your throat tightening as your mind had flashed back to the events days prior.

“Gyu, please. Just tell him I’m not coming in today,” you begged. “I’m sorry.”

You should’ve caught the worried tone that had been in Mingyu’s voice. You should’ve known that he would’ve caught on to your pitiful lie, that he was going to run straight to the source itself to find out what the actual reason for your calling out was.

But most of all, you should’ve predicted that Wonwoo’s persistence and stubbornness would get to the better of him.

A knock on your door pulls you out of your thoughts, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you wearily walk over to it and peer out of the peephole, your breath catching in your throat as you stare at the man who stood outside of it.

With his hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks, glasses perched on his nose, and a determined expression on his face stood Wonwoo. Those damned butterflies are fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach at the sight of your boss, your heart speeding up as you contemplate not answering the door – but you knew better than that. You knew that despite you calling out this morning that Wonwoo was going to want an explanation. That despite your best efforts to deflect from the situation just days before, he was going to want to discuss the matter at hand sooner rather than later.

Taking a deep breath, you allow yourself a moment to collect your composure before opening the door.

You stare dumbfoundedly at your boss, shock lit across your features as you stand in the doorway.

“How – how did you get my address?”

Wonwoo’s expression is stony, his gaze piercing yours through the thick rims of his glasses, and you catch the movement of his jaw clenching as he glares at you.

“You’re avoiding me.”

His tone is cold as he deflects your question and the harshness of his voice makes you wish the ground would open up from beneath you and swallow you whole, all the while suddenly painfully aware that you’re standing in front of your boss in nothing but your oversized sleep shirt.

“I – I’m not avoiding you,” you stuttered out. “I wasn’t feeling well this morning.”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrow into a menacing glare.

“You and I both know that that is a lie.”

Pushing past you, you watch open-mouthed as Wonwoo makes his way into your apartment, a bolt of panic rushing through you as you fumble to close the door behind you. His back is to you as he faces your living room and you watch as his hands slip out of his pockets, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides before he’s turning to look at you in the doorway.

“You called Mingyu,” he bites out, menacingly. “Instead of calling me, your boss, you called Mingyu.”

Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, your feet shuffle nervously as your gaze drops to the ground.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you say quietly, making Wonwoo scoff.

“Cut it out, (Y/N),” he spats. “You bother me more often than most of my other employee’s do.”

There’s a blow to your ego at his words as your head snaps up to look at him, hurt flaring in your eyes as you glared right back at your boss.

“Then why keep me around?” You ask, harshly. “If I’m such a fucking bother to you why not fire me?”

Wonwoo grits his teeth, anger flashing in his eyes.

“Because I cannot fathom the idea of my life without you in it!”

The sudden confession knocks the air out of your lungs, your lips parting in shock, and the butterflies multiply tenfold as Wonwoo stares at you with a gaze mixed with fury and desire. You’re frozen to the spot as Wonwoo steps closer, the intensity of his stare igniting your body on fire as the warmth of him envelops you.

“Whether it’s having you as my assistant or to just simply bask in your presence,” he begins, his voice lowering. “The thought of not seeing you even for a day makes me want to go crazy.”

Your back presses against the door as he leans in closer, one arm perched above you as he looms over you. Your breath is caught in your throat at the close proximity of him, the scent of his cologne filling your senses and clouding your judgment as he levels his face with yours.

“You’re all I think about, you’re all I dream about,” he continues, gaze softening as he presses closer to you. “You have infiltrated every part of my being since the moment you first walked into my office.”

A shaky breath escapes you as your heart soars at his words, and your hands ache to reach out and hold his face.

“Wonwoo…” You catch the flash of desire in his eyes as you mutter his name. “There is so much at stake for me if we pursue this. I could lose my job –”

“I will take care of you,” he cuts you off, matter-of-factly. “I know that’s probably not what you want to hear but if it comes down to it, I will take care of the damage I’ve caused if it means I get to keep you in my life.”

Your gaze softens at his words.

You knew the stakes, you knew what was going to happen the moment you and Wonwoo solidified crossing the lines – you knew that your position as his assistant was over. Everything you achieved in the last two years had been for him, had been because of him. Wonwoo was your biggest supporter, whether he voiced it or not, and you hadn’t realized until recently that your admiration for his hard work and brilliant business mind had morphed into admiration for him – Jeon Wonwoo. Not the CEO you had worked for day in and day out. It was for the man who encouraged you to speak up in meetings despite your lack of status, the man who would go out of his way to bring you lunch, flowers, or gifts when he knew you were having a bad day. It was for the man who stood before you pouring his heart out despite the repercussions.

With shaky hands you’re reaching out to cup his face, your thumbs gently stroking his defined jaw as you peer up at him.

“I have grown to care for you, Jeon Wonwoo,” you murmur, and Wonwoo lets out a shaky breath as he presses flush against you, trapping you between his body and your front door. “In a way that assistant’s probably shouldn’t care for their bosses.”

A half-hearted laugh escapes him at that, his eyes twinkling in amusement, and you can’t help but to grin up at him. He’s still looming over you with one arm pressed against the doorframe, his other wrapping around your waist before he’s tilting his head down to yours. Warm lips encase themselves around yours and you can feel your heart beating against your ribcage as he kisses you slowly, passion pouring through him. You can feel your breath escape your lungs as you kiss him back, completely relishing in the taste and feel of him pressed against you as he kisses you earnestly.

Drawing back slightly, there’s a fleeting moment between the two of you as you stare into each other’s eyes, a silent acceptance of the lines between you becoming nonexistent, and it’s nothing short of a relief as you’re both pulled by an invisible force back to one another.

Your hands move to entangle themselves in his raven locks, fingers tugging at the roots as your lips fuse together in a frenzy. Wonwoo groans against your mouth as his arms move to wrap around your waist, his body flush against yours as your lips lock in fervor. As he tilts his head to the side, his tongue dips out from his lips to run along the seam of yours, which part almost instantly in response. A deep rumble reverberates from his chest as his tongue traces every nook and cranny of your mouth, almost as if he was memorizing every detail. Wonwoo’s hands move from your waist down to the hem of your sleep shirt before he’s teasingly gripping the hem of it and drawing back from your mouth.

Teeth graze over the skin of your neck as Wonwoo presses you back into the door, nimble fingers sliding underneath the hem of your shirt as he latches onto the pulse point on your neck. Your lips part in a wanton moan as he sucks a mark into your skin, his warm hand encasing around your bare breast. Arching your back into his touch, you’re keening in pleasure as Wonwoo pinches the sensitive bud between his thumb and pointer finger, a smirk dancing across his lips at your response. He’s grazing his nose against your neck before clutching your hips.

“Wanna taste you,” he breathes out, his breath fanning against your skin. “Wanna devour you until your legs are shaking.”

You can barely keep your vision focused on him as you watch him sink to his knees, his sharp gaze piercing into yours as his hands glide from your waist to your thighs, his lips curling into a feline-like smirk as you whimper in anticipation. Sneaking them underneath the hem of your shirt, he’s tugging at your panties before pulling them down your legs and tossing them aside. You watch as your boss hitches one leg over his shoulder, his piercing gaze never leaving yours as he leans forward to run the tip of his tongue along your soaked folds.

A moan escapes your lips, your head tilting back and resting against the door, and your fingers tangle in his tresses as he hums appreciatively at your response. Blunt nails dig into the flesh of your thighs as Wonwoo completely sheaths his face between your legs, unabashedly licking at your cunt. Shameless moans are falling from your lips as Wonwoo licks without abandon, his nose pressing into your clit as he mouths and sucks at your core. Your nails are digging into his scalp, body arching off of the door as you relish in the feel of his tongue. Your body feels like it’s on fire as his hands glide underneath your shirt, warm hands encasing around your breasts before he’s squeezing them.

A deep growl resonates from him before his head is completely disappearing underneath your shirt, his mouth flush with your cunt as he grips your beasts, a harsh suck to your clit as he shakes his head from side to side, tongue gliding along your folds in a way that has you crying out into your apartment, his name falling like a mantra from your lips as your hands claw at his clothed back.

“Wonu, oh, fuck…!”

There's a sly smirk dancing across his lips as you feel him tilt his head, the tip of his tongue circling your clit until he’s flattening it, sucking it harshly into his mouth as he hums against you. Heat pools in the pit of your stomach at his ministrations, your chest heaving with pleasure until he’s reaching behind you to grip the flesh of your ass and pulling your cunt flush to his mouth.The pressure of his tongue flicking against your clit is enough to have you unraveling against him, a cry of his name escaping you as your body does exactly what he wanted it to.

Your thighs clamped around his head as he brought you to your release, your nails clawing at his clothed back as you lurch forward in pleasure. He’s lazily lapping at your folds, licking the remnants of your essence up as you tremble in ecstasy. The soft kitten licks at your core have you whimpering from the overstimulation before you can make out the muffled groan from underneath your shirt as Wonwoo draws back, his face shining with remnants of your arousal as he licks his lips. His hair sticks up slightly from being trapped between your legs, the glasses that were perched on his nose completely fogged up, and the sight of your boss’s disheveled appearance is so erotic it gives you enough incentive to fist your hands through his hair before pulling him up to you.

You taste your arousal on his tongue as his lips meet yours, your hands fumbling with the buttons on his shirt before you’re undoing them and all but ripping the fabric off of him. A growl reverberates into your mouth as he grips your thighs and hauls you up, locking your legs around his waist.

“Where’s your room?” He asks, words muffled against your lips.

“Down the hall to the right.”

It’s a clash of tongues and teeth as he’s gripping you close to him, blindly navigating the two of you down the hall and kicking your bedroom door closed before he’s laying you on your bed. Your nails rake down the expanse of his broad back as he tugs your shirt up and over your head, throwing it carelessly as he revels in the sight of your naked body in front of him. His hungry gaze rakes along every bump and curve, his glasses slipping down his nose as he takes in the sight.

His tongue pokes out to wet his lips before he’s leaning down to hover over your body.

“You’re fucking exquisite,” he breathes out, greedy hands plucking at your nipples as he sucks a mark into your chest. “Better than any dream I’ve ever had.”

Your breath hitches at his words, another pool of arousal flooding between your thighs as you arch into his touch.

“You’ve dreamt of me?” You ask breathlessly, and Wonwoo lifts his head from your chest to give you a look full of desire.

“Sweetheart, I’ve dreamt of you every night since the day you’ve stepped into my office.”

You mewl as his lips enclose around your pert nipple, his teeth clamping around the bud as he tugs harshly before encasing his mouth around the mound, your body arching off the bed as you cry out in pleasure. Wonwoo smirks against your breast, his hand kneading the other before he’s switching to enclose his mouth around the other. Gripping onto his broad shoulders, you’re rolling your hips against his clothed cock.

“Tell me,” you whimper, reaching a hand in between your bodies to pluck the button on his slacks. “Tell me about everything you’ve dreamt of.”

Wonwoo growls against your skin as you undo his slacks, his teeth gritting when he feels you slide your hand into his briefs and grab onto his growing cock. Grabbing onto your wrists, he’s pinning them above your head as he hovers over your body, a menacing look in his eyes.

“You want to know everything, sweetheart?” He asks, the term of endearment dripping from him like velvet and you mewl as you wriggle in his grasp. “You want me to tell you about how I've spent countless nights envisioning you underneath me, taking my cock every which way until there were tears streaming down your face?”

A shameless moan wracks from you as his hold on your wrists tightens, his eyes darkening in desire as he rolls his hips into yours.

“You want to know about all the thoughts I’ve had of you tied to my bedpost, red silk on your wrists and your body all mine to use?”

Wonwoo growls as his free hand slithers down your body, his fingers dipping to your cunt as he coats them in your arousal.

“Or about how I want to mark every single inch of you to show anyone who even dares to breathe in your direction that you’re mine.”

You mewl, your body writhing underneath him as you try to gain any kind of friction between you that you could. Smirking at your attempts, Wonwoo teasingly runs his digits along your folds, before he’s pushing two past them, not stopping until they’re buried to the knuckle. Your hips grind into his touch as his name falls from your lips, your hands trembling underneath his hold as he scissors the two digits against your velvety walls.

A coo falls from him as he relishes in the sight of your pleasure-filled expression, his lips twisting into a feline-like smirk as he slips a third finger inside, his thumb pressing against your clit as he flicks his wrist, the digits delving deeper inside of you as he thumbs against your sensitive bud.

“But the thought I’ve had that’s haunted me since day one,” the smirk never falters from his face as he peers down at you with desire. “Is the thought of you soaking every inch of my bed as I make you cum over and over again. And, while, this isn’t my bed – it’ll do for now.”

Your mouth opens in a soundless scream, your back arching off the bed as Wonwoo slips a fourth finger inside of you, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit before he’s pressing down onto the bundle of nerves. Pleasure shoots up your body as you claw at the one that was pinning yours to the bed, nails digging into the back of his hand as he curls the digits inside of you. They’re brushing against a spot that has your thighs clenching around his wrist, a sadistic grin dancing across your boss’s lips as he watches you writhe under his ministrations.

“Wonwoo, please,” you beg, sobbing with pleasure. “Please – oh fuck, let me cum, please.”

Your voice is broken, muddled into cries of desire as he palms your clit, and he’s leaning down to lick a stripe down the valley of your breasts. His eyes are completely locked on your pleasure ridden face as he litters marks along your body, teeth sinking into any visible part of your flesh he can reach.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coos, smirking deviously. “Give it to me.”

The heel of his palm is ruthless against your clit and your body is folding in half as your thighs clamped around his wrist, a shriek of his name reverberating off of the walls as his fingers curl against the spot that sends your body into overdrive. There’s a tightening in your lower body that sends a flash of heat through you, your eyes clamping shut as you cum – hard.

Wonwoo growls at the sight before him, his desire filled eyes taking in the sight of your arousal dripping down your thighs and soaking your sheets, and he’s speeding up his ministrations on your clit. His sharp gaze is locked on your pulsating cunt while your body reels into overstimulation, cries of pleasure ripping from your throat as your cunt leaks shamelessly. Your back is completely arched off of the bed, fluids leaking from your core, and you’re almost crying out of relief when Wonwoo slips his fingers out of you and loosens his grip on your hands – only for you to grip his hair when he latches his mouth onto your overstimulated cunt.

He’s licking with no abandon, lewdly slurping every last drop of your release as you sob with pleasure. His arms are tucked underneath your thighs as he pulls you until you’re completely sheathed against his mouth. The overstimulation has you writhing against him, and you’re mustering up enough strength to push his head away as you let your body come down from the intense release.

Wonwoo chuckles as he watches you sink into the sheets, cooing at you as exhaustion washes over your pleasure ridden body. Soft kisses are littered along the inners of your thighs, and Wonwoo peers up at you through his eyelashes as you tiredly lift your head from the bed.

“You’re doing so good,” he praised, softly nipping at the flesh of your thigh. “My good girl.”

Despite the intense orgasm you had just experienced, your cunt pulsates with desire at his praise. Biting the inside of your lip, you’re whining softly as you tug at his hair, ushering him up to you. Wonwoo lets a wild grin grace his lips as he allows you to pull him up, his lips slotting against yours lazily as he cages you between his body and the bed. Shaky hands make their way down the expanse of his chest and Wonwoo gasps against your lips when you tug his slacks down, a foot sliding between his legs so that you can push them off of him.

“Sweetheart,” he mumbles, trying to break away from your lips only to have you grab the back of his head to keep him still. “What are you doing?”

A mischievous glint is in your eyes as you shoot Wonwoo a filthy smirk, your hands clutching at his biceps before you’re mustering enough strength to roll the two of you over and pinning him to the bed. Your lips trail from his down to his jaw, teeth grazing over the sharp definition as your hips settle over his. Your hands are trapping his wrists and pressing them into the mattress as you trail your tongue over his neck. Wonwoo growls underneath you, his sharp eyes glaring at you through the thick rims of his glasses.

“I can’t be the only one having fun,” you coo, teasingly against his skin.

Wonwoo grits his teeth as yours graze over his skin, a hiss falling from him when he feels you suck a mark into the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“Don’t worry about me,” he bites out, wrists breaking free from your weakened hold. You ‘tsk’ at him, breaking away from his neck to frown.

“It’s my job to take care of you,” you affirm, shooting him a pointed look, and you can only bite back a smirk when Wonwoo’s lips curl into a snarl. “Let me take care of you, Mr. Jeon.”

A near pornographic groan escapes your boss’s lips at your words and you can’t help but to grin with satisfaction, your lips trailing from his neck to the expanse of his chest. You keen with satisfaction as Wonwoo’s fingers tangle in the tresses of your hair while you litter marks down his chest, peering up at him through your eyelashes as you reach the hem of his briefs. A salacious smirk paints your lips as you tug at them, discarding the garment without care as your tongue trails along the patch of hair leading to his bulging cock.

Your gaze never breaks from his as you situate yourself between his toned thighs, your hand wrapping around him as your lips part to lick at the beads of precum dripping from his tip. The grip he has on your hair tightens as you coat his head with it, a soft hum escaping you before you’re descending onto his cock. Wonwoo tenses, the sharp tug on your tresses making you whine against his cock, and he groans in ecstasy as your tongue lolls around him. He’s gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he struggles to keep his eyes open to peer down at you, completely mesmerized by the sight of you in between his legs. Inhaling through your nose, you suck in a breath of air before taking him in until his tip brushes the back of your throat, your hand reaching to cup his balls.

“(Y/N)...”

Wonwoo’s growl only encourages you further as you slide completely off of him, a smirk on your lips before you descend once more until he’s sheathed back into the warm cavern of your mouth. He’s tugging harshly at your tresses, hips pistoning off of the bed, as he shamelessly thrusts into your mouth. The grip you hold on his balls tightens gently, making expletives fall from the man as you swallow around him. The deep timbre of his voice combined with the harshness of his thrusts and tugs on your hair has your core dripping with anticipation, your body screaming for him to be inside of every part of you.

Wonwoo’s eyes are hooded, gaze full of desire, and he’s watching you bob your head on his cock, swallowing around his girth and knowing that if he let you keep going he wasn’t going to last much longer. So with your hair in his hands, he’s tugging you off of him with a snarl, his grip moving to latch onto your hips as he all but throws you on your back. Your eyes widened at the sudden change of position but then you’re keening in delight as the tip of his cock prods at your dripping cunt, your hands reaching up to claw at his broad back.

“I’m not cumming until I’ve felt your cunt around me first.”

The bite of his words sends another wave of heat flowing through you, your body completely lighting on fire as he guides himself to push past your folds, your lips parting in pleasure as your cunt swallows the thick girth of him. Your nails are clawing at his broad shoulders as Wonwoo’s teeth grit together, his nose brushing against yours as he slides in until he’s completely sheathed to the hilt.

“God, take me,” you moan, wantonly – shamelessly. “Make me yours.”

A cocky smirk dances across your boss’s lips as he draws his hips back, sharp eyes drinking in your naked form as he coos at the sight.

“You want to be mine, sweetheart?” He asks, teasingly. His lips ghost over yours as he moves to grip your wrists in his hands, effectively pinning them above your head. “You think you deserve it?”

A defiant look crosses your features as you peered up at him, a deep frown on your lips as you dig your nails into his skin in retaliation.

“I’m the only one who deserves it.”

Wonwoo’s gaze bores into yours, his lips curling into a feline-like smirk before his hips slam into yours, your back arching at the contact and your nails digging into his wrists as he all but hammers into you.

“Wonwoo – oh, fuck – !”

He’s mouthing hotly at your bouncing breasts before his teeth clamp around your nipple, tweaking the bud with his tongue as his hips pistoned into yours. Cries of his name fall from your lips as he thrusts relentlessly, sharp eyes peeking over the mounds of your breasts as your body stays arched in pleasure. He’s relishing in the sight, a smirk of satisfaction playing at his lips as he licks his way up your neck, lips hotly pressing into yours as his tongue delves into your mouth.

“You’re mine,” he growls against your lips, teeth biting onto the flesh as he tugs. “Mine.”

He briefly lets go of your wrists only so that he can grip your thigh with one hand, the other keeping your hands pinned above your head. He’s positioning your leg over his shoulder, his body descending onto yours as he rolls his hips, a groan escaping him as your cunt clenches deliciously around him. Your eyes are squeezed shut, completely lost in the intense pleasure of him as he grips onto your calf. Blunt nails dig into your skin as he speeds up once more, teeth gritting with pleasure as he sucks a mark into the sensitive spot on your neck. Your hips rise from the bed as you try to match his movements, a cry of his name falling from you when the head of his cock brushes against a spot that has you seeing stars.

“Right there!” You cry, clenching mercilessly around him. “God, Wonwoo, don’t stop!”

His grip on your leg loosens as he reaches down to press the pad of his thumb against your clit, a sinister smirk painted on his lips as he looks down at you.

“How’s it feel, sweetheart?” He asks, hips speeding up as he thumbs harshly at the sensitive bud. “Knowing that I’m all yours? That I’m only yours.”

You’re writhing beneath him, thrashing under his body in pleasure as his ministrations on your clit grow more erratic. Your vision is blurred with tears of ecstasy, Wonwoo’s name falling from your lips like a broken mantra, and you can only grip his hand as the heat in the pit of your stomach grows with every thrust.

“S- so good,” you stuttered out, completely lost in the feeling of him. “You’re mine, baby. Only mine.”

The term of endearment earns you a growl of approval, Wonwoo prying your lips apart with his mouth as his tongue licks along yours.

“Yeah?” His voice is deep, the timbre laced with husk as he licks into your mouth. “My cock is all yours, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

You keen at his words, a whine falling from your lips as your thighs quiver with pleasure.

“All mine,” you affirm, moaning. Wonwoo smirks against your mouth, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he thumbs at your clit with vigor.

“And this is all for me, isn’t it?” His question is spoken into your mouth, tongue sweeping over yours as his hips slam into yours.

“Only you, baby,” you whine, lifting your hips to meet his thrusts. “I’m yours.”

Wonwoo growls at that, his lips curling into a feline-like smirk as he lets go of your hands – only to grab you by the throat as he lifts you up until your chest is pressed flush against his. Your lips part in surprise at the change of position, one arm wrapped around his broad shoulders as the other fists through his locks, your cunt clenching around him as the new angle drives him to be completely sheathed inside of you as he sits back on his legs to hold you up.

“Damn right, you’re mine.”

Wonwoo’s words are muffled against your lips, the man looking down at you with a fierce glint as his thumb presses to your throat, effectively cutting off the air to your lungs and making your breath hitch. You clutch desperately at his tresses, your nails clawing at the skin of his back as he drills his cock inside of you, his free hand reaching back in between your bodies to rub your sensitive clit as he urges you to cum.

Your lips are parted in a silent cry, the stimulation between his thumb and his cock driving you closer and closer to the edge as your thighs clench around his hips, your back arching in a way that has your chest pressing into his, and the lack of air in your lungs has your head reeling in ecstasy as your high washes over you in a violent wave. You’re trembling beneath his ministrations, your cunt clenching deliciously around Wonwoo’s length as he coos at you, his thumb releasing off of your throat as you gasp.

“Mm, my good girl,” he praises, hands clutching your hips. “Where do you want me?”

The relentless drills of his hips against yours has you fighting to catch your breath as you struggle to answer him. Wonwoo’s rhythm grows erratic as he nears closer, your body arching into his movements as you clutch his shoulders in order to stay upright.

“My – my mouth,” you manage to breathe out, making Wonwoo smirk in anticipation.

You almost regret answering him when you feel him pulling out of you, the brisk air hitting your now empty cunt as Wonwoo settles you on your knees. His hand encases around your head as he pushes past your parted lips, groaning when his cock hits your tongue. You mewl around him, jaw slack and eyes locked on his as your tongue laps lazily at his leaking tip, swallowing every last drop of his release. His fingers tangle in your hair as he thrusts harshly into your mouth, the head of his cock brushing against the back of your throat as he cums. A hum of delight escapes you as you lewdly lap up the remnants of his release, your name falling from his lips as he tilts his head back in ecstasy.

His glasses slid off the bridge of his nose from the beads of sweat that had collected there and landed carelessly next to you on the bed, his sharp eyes softening into a look that was nothing short of adoration. His fingers release their grip on your tresses as his hands cup your face, his cock sliding out of your mouth as he lifts you to slot his lips against yours.

Humming against your mouth, Wonwoo’s thumbs graze your cheeks as he draws back to look into your eyes.

“You did so well for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Such a good girl for me.”

Your heart swells in your chest as you relish in his touch, your body completely spent from the intensity you had just experienced, and your eyes hood over in exhaustion as Wonwoo gingerly lays you back against the pillows. The warmth of his body envelops yours as he holds you close to him. A half-hearted smile paints itself on your lips as you reach up to trace the outline of his lips, a hint of sadness ghosting over your expression.

“You realize this means I can’t work for you anymore, right?”

Your soft murmur makes Wonwoo frown, and you almost whimper with hurt at the crestfallen look on his face.

“I know,” he answers quietly, offering you a small smile. “But that doesn’t mean I’m losing you.”

Wonwoo turns his head to meet your softening expression, his gaze boring into yours as he clutches you to him.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he continues, nuzzling his nose against yours. “I will take care of you, (Y/N). I will fix any damage I’ve done to your career, to your reputation – just as long as I get to keep you in my life… If you even want me after all of this.”

“How could I not want you?” You asked, quietly. “You are everything and more to me, Wonwoo. It just took me a couple years to realize it.”

Wonwoo chuckles at that before leaning down to place a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Even if I cost you your job?”

You purse your lips at that, pretending to think before looking up at him in amusement.

“I can think of some ways you could make it up to me,” you teased, making Wonwoo growl playfully. “Starting with a bath – hey!”

Wordlessly you’re being lifted in his arms, a shriek of surprise escaping you as Wonwoo tosses you over his shoulder, effortlessly carrying you into your adjoining bathroom.

“That can be arranged.”

[15 new messages]

From: Soonyoung Hey honey! Just a heads up… Wonwoo asked for your address. Don’t know why or what for but I gave it to him so expect a visit from him soon… ... But I’m gonna assume it’s for what I think it is… … so you’re welcome ;)

From: Joshua Soonyoung just told me Wonwoo is going to your house USE PROTECTION!!! I'M NOT READY TO BE AN UNCLE ;_;

From: Gyu Wonwoo is missing He left the office hours ago and hasn’t come back (Y/N)???? Hello???? This is a serious matter!!!! Where are you??!?!?!?? Are you seriously going to ignore me? Just because you called out sick doesn’t mean you can ignore ~me~ your friend!!!!

To: Gyu She’s busy

From: Gyu I – OH??? MY GOD???????? IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME YOU TWO!!!! Also – ew Don’t ever send me a picture like that ever again

Epilogue

“How are the reports looking, Mrs. Jeon?”

Lifting your head from the pile of papers lining the table, your gaze falls on your boss as he walks inside the conference room, a warm smile on his face. Offering him an encouraging one back, you gesture towards the pile in front of you as you lean back against your chair.

“Everything we’ve discussed is in order and ready to go for the presentation.”

Your boss grins, dimples indenting in his cheeks.

“I knew I could count on you.”

The conference room door opens behind your boss, your eyes darting to the tall stature who was now leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest as his sharp gaze falls on you.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

No matter how many times he calls you that or how much time passes by with you waking up to him every morning, your husband’s voice never fails to send an array of butterflies abuzz in your stomach. You can’t help but to let a salacious smile grace your lips as you bat your eyes at Wonwoo.

“Mr. Jeon,” you greet, flirtily. “Looking mighty handsome as always.”

Wonwoo clears his throat, his eyes narrowing into a playful glare as he gestures towards your boss.

“You’re lucky Seungcheol is here,” he tuts, shaking his head. “Otherwise I’d have you over this desk –”

“Hey, hey!” Seungcheol cuts off your husband, waving an accusing finger at him. “No flirting with my assistant during work hours!”

Wonwoo holds his hands up in defense as he backs up from Seungcheol, a wide grin on his lips as he bows apologetically.

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckles. “I’ll behave.”

His words promise good behavior, but the smirk on his lips and the mischievous glint in his eyes say another as he sits across from you at the table, his heated gaze never leaving yours. From beside him, the younger man who had taken a seat next to him had a grin on his face as he peered over at his boss, eyes looking back and forth between you and Wonwoo.

“It’s good to see you, Mrs. Jeon,” he greets, making you beam at him.

“It’s good to see you too, Chan,” you grinned. “I hope my husband hasn’t been running you ragged like he had done with me.”

Chan laughs softly, eyes twinkling with humor as he shakes his head.

“Nothing I’m not already used to.”

It had been two years since you had left Wonwoo’s office and became Seungcheol’s assistant.

In hindsight, Joshua had been right about how casual and common it was for a CEO to have some kind of relation with their assistant.

Despite your acceptance of the notion that you could lose your job for pursuing a relationship that exceeded company policy, HR hadn’t batted an eye when you and Wonwoo had confronted them. They simply brushed it off, insisting that it wasn’t uncommon for such a thing to happen between two people who were constantly in such close quarters with one another. And though you would have loved to continue working with your boss - now husband - it was in your best judgment to resign as his assistant and to look elsewhere.

You loved the job, you really did. But continuing to work for the man who you slept next to every night didn’t sit right with you – especially when you knew how fussy other co-workers were when it came to workplace relationships. So rather than wanting to deal with whispers of gossip behind your back, you had taken Seungcheol’s offer in becoming his assistant instead – much to your husband’s dismay.

“If you so much as even look at her in any way that’s not professional or business-like, I’ll ruin your career faster than you can blink.”

Seungcheol gulps, nodding furiously to the taller man who was currently holding him by the collar.

“Noted.”

Seungcheol claps his hands together, breaking your intense eye contact with your husband as you reluctantly look towards your boss.

“Alright,” he beams, looking at the occupants at the table. “Let's get this ball rolling.”

You have always prided yourself on your stellar work ethic. You always paid attention during meetings, took notes when it was needed, and made mental notes of things that could be bookmarked and used for later projects. But that sufficient work ethic always flew right out the window when it involved the man sitting across from you.

You’re peering at your husband from the corner of your eye, biting back a laugh as you smirk slightly. Adjusting your posture, you’re leaning back against the chair while you stretch your legs out underneath the table, discarding one of your heels as you let your foot graze against Wonwoo’s calf. You press your lips together in a line to fight back a grin, stifling a giggle at the desire that was now pooling in the darkened eyes of your husband as he subtly reaches down to grab your leg.

“Stop it,” he mouths, making you feign a look of innocence.

“I’m not doing anything,” you mouthed back, making Wonwoo’s sharp eyes narrow into a glare.

He’s trapping your leg between his toned thighs, a move which he almost instantly regretted as you flexed your foot to press against the hardening bulge in his slacks, the CEO sucking in a breath as he all but clutches your ankle in retaliation. Blunt nails dig into your skin as he sends you a look of warning only to grit his teeth in annoyance as you peered away from him with a smile, keeping your focus on Seungcheol as he spoke.

Wonwoo’s heated gaze stays locked on you throughout the meeting, sharp eyes glaring from behind his thick rimmed glasses as he shifts uncomfortably for the next hour. And once Seungcheol had declared a brief break, he’s pushing your leg away from him and stomping out of the conference room. Chan’s eyes widened in alarm at his boss’s abrupt exit, the assistant beginning to stand before you’re holding your hand up, halting him from following after your husband.

“I’ve got him, Chan,” you reassured the man, smiling brightly. “You know he gets in those moods sometimes.”

Not waiting for a reply, you’re stifling a laugh as you walk out of the room, gaze scanning over the office before you’re heading towards the elevator. But before you can even make it halfway, you’re being pulled into a doorway, your back pressed up against a wall as Wonwoo glares down at you, his body towering over yours.

An amused glint is in your eyes as you grinned up at your husband.

“You really pulled me into a supply closet?” You asked, and Wonwoo reached to grab your chin, tilting your face up to look at him.

“You have a lot of nerve, sweetheart,” he hissed. “Getting me hard while I’m trying to focus on the meeting.”

You feign a look of innocence as you reach for his belt buckle, pulling him in until he’s pressed flush against you.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t like it,” you drawl, flirtily. Wonwoo smirks as he drops his hands from your face, opting to grip your thighs instead as he lifts you up and presses you back into the wall.

“Such a naughty girl,” he tsk’s, rolling his hips into yours as you tighten your legs around him.

“You love it,” you tease, nipping playfully at his bottom lip. Wonwoo’s gaze softens momentarily, his face lighting up as he adoringly stares at you.

“I love you,” he corrects.

Leaning forward he’s connecting your lips, kissing you slowly as he pours his emotions into it — into you. You hum against his mouth, your hands reaching up to run through his hair as you kiss him back. His tongue slips between the seam of your lips before meeting yours, his nails digging into the flesh of your thighs as he licks into your mouth.

“We have to get back,” you murmur, making Wonwoo groan, your husband squeezing your ass playfully as he rocks against you.

“I’ll come up with an excuse,” he mutters and you chuckle against his mouth before pulling away.

“This is an important meeting, baby,” you retort, making Wonwoo — big bad CEO, Jeon Wonwoo — form the most adorable pout as he looks down at you with an expression akin to a kicked puppy.

“But I only want to be around you.”

Giggling quietly, you reach up to cup his face as you kiss him softly, nuzzling your nose against his.

“If you can make it through the next two hours, I’ll fuck you in the back of the limo on the way home.”

Wonwoo laughs at your words, his head tilting back happily before he kisses you with a smile.

“First off, it’s going to be me fucking you,” he points out, letting you place your feet back down on the floor. “Which I was planning on doing after the meeting anyways.”

You grin at him, laughing happily as you readjust your clothing.

“Great minds think alike, I guess,” you jest, and Wonwoo mirrors your grin as he leads you out of the supply closet.

With an arm wrapped around your shoulders, he’s leaning down to press a kiss against your temple, lips brushing your ear.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, making your heart soar in happiness as you beamed in delight.

“I love you too, Wonwoo.”

#seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #jeon wonwoo smut #wonwoo x reader

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definitelysel · 6 months

Text

gojo x fem!reader

early mornings — drabble, fluff

not proof read

w/c i have no idea but 's short

Gojo Satoru was always late to teaching, meeting – you name it. The question which hasn't been asked is 'Why is Gojo Satoru always late to events scheduled for the morning?' Is he too arrogant too care about menial tasks such as teaching children? No, not really. Was he too busy getting his daily dose of sweets to attend meetings with the irking higher ups? No- okay maybe.

What exactly was the answer? It was simple really. He just didn't feel like getting out of bed in the mornings. He wanted to stay in bed, sleep in more with you in his arms.

Satoru had been lonely ever since the death of his bestfriend. He had closed himself off from the real world and buried it under his obnoxious personality. However....ever since you tumbled into his life, literally, he felt his days brighten up again. His eyes would flutter open each day to a sight he wished to capture with a camera.

Oh wait, he probably has and got it photoframed to keep it in his office. He is rather sentimental to say the least. He enjoys this warmth. Your legs tangled under the sheets, arms interwined and your face squished against the pillow. He quietly laughs and smiles to himself.

"Satoru- you are staring, again." You groggily stated before peeling your eyes open, only to hiss at the sunlight peering in.

"Sorry sweets, just can't help myself."

"What's so interesting about watching seeing someone sleep? I bet you 10 bucks my hair looks like it got hit by a wind current." You yawned and buried your face into the pillow. Yup, monday mornings sucked.

"Unfortunately for you, I am into that." He gave a boyish grin. He leaned in and kissed your forehead tenderly. You could feel him squeezing your hand just a bit. It was a sweet gesture of affection which had became the norm.

"Then again, you look like a demon with your hair all disheveled like tha- ACK"

You pinched him causing him to flinch.

"Ouch! What was that for!?" He whined, rubbing his side.

"You know exactly what that was for." You sternly remarked, not feeling sorry at all.

Both of you stare at eachother before erupting into giggles. You cup his face and lean in. Your foreheads were touching as you stared into his crystalline eyes, their blue colour, vast like the sky.

"I love you, you dork." You smile widely. In his eyes, you were his everything. The bright light that makes him look forward to each waking moment.

"Using the magical phrase to give me a backhanded compliment, are we?" He mused.

"Shut up" you lightly nudge him.

"I love you too, sweets. You make my mornings better, but if you keep fighting with me for the bed sheet at night I might as well sleep on the couch." He chuckled, kissing your nose. How can someone be mad at his guy?

"Not my fault that I am all cold thanks to you cranking up the Air-Con to 21 degrees!" You baffled as he winced at your sudden raise in tone.

"Sorry sweets. It gets too hot." He apologized playfully.

"Then sleep without the darn blanket!"

This banter, these laughs and small moments. He wanted to be encased in them forever. Gojo Satoru is the strongest sorcerer who is never punctual. Gojo Satoru is the strongest sorcerer who trades his punctuality to remain in bed with his person. This was one sacrifice he never regrets making.

Deep down he was a person who wanted to be loved yet he was too afraid commit. You were the person who wanted him to feel loved and he wouldn't trade this reality for anything.

©definitelysel

a/n : fluff makes me all queasy and i love it.

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mydearesthrry · 5 months

Text

baby - h.s.

a/n: self indulgent bc i want to call harry baby so bad. this isnt that great but i wanted to finish it. anyways i hope u enjoy <3

“Hi, handsome,” She grinned as she opened the door, her husband clad in a navy suit, white collar popped over the neckline.

“Mm, hi,” He murmured back, moving into the doorframe and setting down his briefcase almost instantly, hands coming up to rest on her white linen dress covered hips. “Missed you.”

Sweet boy, she thought. “Missed you more, angel.” Placing a kiss on the apple of his cheek, she reached her hands up to loosen his tie, unbuttoning the button that lay concealed under the knot.

“Work’s a fuckin’ drag, woulda been here w’you instead,” He breathed, resting his forehead on hers, one of his hands coming up to rest softly on the side of her neck, scratching gently at the nape as to not ruin her hair. “Pretty baby.”

“Hmmm,” She replied, making him furrow his brows in confusion.

“Wha’?”

“You seem to be laying it on extra thick today, Mr Styles.” She giggled, pressing her front into his, caressing his cheek with her hand, running her thumb along the expanse of his cheekbone.

“Oh hush,” He rolled his eyes, grinning at the giggle from his wife that followed. “Don’t think I am, Mrs. Styles.”

“You want something, don’t you?” His wife observed him. Of course she did. There was something off about him, and she was curious as to what it was.

“Um,” He sighed, removing his hands from her and stepping away to thrash off his jacket. “I- uh,”

“Spit it out, H, I’m not scared of you.” She leaned a hip against the counter, crossing her arms and giving him a look that screamed ‘go ahead’.

“I really want a head scratch and back rub.” He said quickly, following his words with a sheepish smile.

“That- that’s really why you were acting… weird?” She rolled her eyes, heels clicking across the floor as she closed the distance between them. Moving to further unbutton his shirt until she could fully see his chest and tummy, watching as it slowly rising and falling with every breath he took, the butterfly’s wings almost fluttering mesmerizingly. “I’d always do this for you, baby, you know that.”

“And— do you think y’could jus’ call me baby? I… I really like when you call me baby.” He whispered, turning his face away shyly.

“Baby,” she giggled, “You don’t even have to ask.”

And it’s true. He really didn’t. She would much rather call him ‘baby’ more than anything else, but switches up the pet name for the spontaneity and so that he wouldn’t get bored of her.

Christ, she hasn’t even called him Harry more than twice in a day.

In the last 6 years.

“I know, jus’ wanna be babied right now,” He murmured sheepishly, leaning into the hand that was placed on his neck.

“Sweet baby, love you so much. My husband.” She whispered softly, eyes moony in admiration as she traced over every single feature of his face, committing the tiny dips and ridges to a special place in her brain.

“My wife. Only one f’me,” He smiled back, leaning in to rest his forehead onto hers. “I. Love. You.” Punctually, he pecked her lips with every word, sighing when he just rested his lips against hers, both of their lips unpuckered, just merely resting.

“I love you, baby.” And with that, she placed her lips fully against his, embracing the soft plush of his pillowy lips, the faint taste of mint tracing the seams of his lips.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry edward styles

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marthawrites · 7 months

Note

"don't shut me out. please"

I hope it is not too late for me to join the celebration ☺️ Congratulations! 💕👏🏼

Thank you sooososo much! You are such a gem and I appreciate all of your fandom love more than you know! I did my best to include a (one shot appropriate) slow burn, angst, and a happy ending. I hope you enjoy this ride MWAH!

Summer's End, Autumn's Beginning

Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word Count: 6.3k+

About: A chance encounter with Aemond leads to a whirlwind of emotions. Over the next few months you both fail, in yourselves and in the relationship, and learn from the mistakes.

Includes: Chance encounter, age difference (references to Aemond x Alys) mentions of cheating, allusions to cheating, angst, second chance romance, and smut featuring vaginal fingering, possessive sex, and unprotected protected vaginal sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is the longest piece I've wrote in quite awhile - whew! I also feel like it's one of the more ambitious one-shot fics I've worked on/completed. Reader is non-descript. As always, please, enjoy!

There were two things tied for number one on your five-year goal list.

First, be out of your city apartment (preferably as a home owner and not a renter)

Second, have a dog.

They went hand in hand. One couldn’t happen without the other. So, it was a hard tie and you weren’t willing to budge on either. Until then, to take the edge off your self-proclaimed animal loneliness, you volunteered at a local shelter two nights a week. Mondays and Wednesdays.

While your day job wasn’t a doctor, lawyer, or professional athlete – ones that your family pushed you to have while growing up – it still paid decently and had the potential for career advancement. And! You were able to live on your own. Not having a roommate was worth the dry job description. Besides, your boss was fair and most of your co-workers were friendly; a win win, really.

Tonight, Monday, you finished your shift, went home to change, then headed out to the shelter. Even though it was all volunteer hours you valued punctuality and did your best to get there around the same time each night.

“Hey! You made it!” Arryk called out to you when you stepped inside the building. Chaos sparked all around. He did a great job running and maintaining the schedule, and with the help of volunteers alongside regular staff, it was, more often than not, smooth sailing. Tonight, however, it appeared quite the opposite.

“Hey! Yeah, a few minutes later than usual, sorry!” You said as you walked over to him.

He waved a hand brushing off your apology. “No worries. We had a few people call in today. So, since being short staffed we’re definitely running behind. I know you normally help bathe the dogs with Baela tonight, but can I ask you to do something else instead?” He winced slightly with his question, unsure of your answer. He knew how much you loved Baela and cleaning the dogs!

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, crossing your arms. “You know I won’t administer shots. If I could get over my fear of needles I’d be a veterinarian and not an office worker like I am!” You scrunched your brows before one, all on its own accord, arched up dubiously.

“Ha!” He laughed. “No no no, I know. We have six dogs that need walking tonight. And I don’t think Targaryen can handle all of ‘em.”

“Helaena? She’s back?” You asked, eyes bright with surprise.

“She’s still away for that college trip. It’s her younger brother, Aemond. Have you met him before?”

You’d heard Helaena talk about him, of course, but you’d never met him. Shaking your head, you peered around the shelter looking for anyone else with the Targaryen tell-tale silver-blonde hair. No one caught your eye. “I haven’t. But, I don’t mind.”

“You are a lifesaver!” He praised. “He’s down the west hall getting them ready. Depending on how long you're here afterward, there might be another couple who could use a second walk. Terriers. You know how they are.”

“Happy to help, Arryk!” He was a good guy. You’d always liked him.

“Aemond’s tall, towheaded as the rest of his family, and has an eyepatch. You can’t miss him.” And with that Cargyll switched tasks and got right back to work.

Turning and walking down the west hall, you were happy to say, chaos began to fizzle out. This hall had the larger dogs; no wonder Aemond wouldn’t be able to walk all six at once. Even with the slow turn of summer to autumn sunset wouldn’t be for another three hours. Assuming all went well you’d be able to walk the second batch of dogs, too.

Down the aisle were five opened doors with each respective dog ready for their walk. Their leashes were hooked onto the door so they couldn’t run amuck. You patted and scratched them, earning yourself more wagging tails, a few happy barks, and some excited licks. Looking to the end of the hall you saw someone who you assumed was your evening walking partner. He was kneeling, talking soothingly to a great big senior hound, while clasping the final buckle of their harness. “Hello, uh-, Aemond?” You called out feeling slightly self-conscious.

Still kneeling, he turned his head to look up at you. Any softness in his single eye quickly hardened to match the rest of his sharp features. “Hey,” he said, caught off guard by your presence; someone he’d never seen calling him out by name. “Is there something I can help you with?” Slowly, in a single fluid motion, he stood up and the aged dog kept his eyes on him the whole time, panting happily.

Whoa. He was tall. And, at first sight, incredibly good looking: dressed in casual black clothes, long silver hair tied into a braid, with a scar along the left side of his face that you had to tell yourself not to stare at. His mouth was a unique shape, too, and you weren’t sure if he was merely waiting for a response or if he was smirking the tiniest pout at you. “Hi,” you said again with a nervous laugh. You told him your name. “Arryk sent me. Said you could use some help with the walk tonight?” ‘Play it cool, dummy. He’s really handsome, so what? He could be a huge asshole. Play. It. Cool,’ your inner voice said.

Did he have a mechanical eye beneath his patch? The way he looked at you, then, made you feel like he read your thoughts. “Ah. I could certainly use the help,” he said smoothly with a small curve of lip, turning his attention to the three dogs at the front of the hallway. “Wanna take those three?” He asked, looping the big dog’s leash around his wrist. “I mean, you can have any of them as long as I get this guy. He’s my favorite.”

Your pulse raced a little too fast. Clearing your throat, you smiled in an attempt to ease the butterflies in your belly. “I don’t mind. Why is he your favorite?” You turned and began to unclasp leashes from their doors; happy tips and taps of claws growing louder at the pups’ excitement.

“Reminds me of my girl at home,” Aemond replied, adoration clear in his voice. “Big and old, a little stinky, a little slobbery. The best kind, really.”

“Aw, that’s very sweet. I don’t have any pets. I get my fix here,” you laughed. Holding all three dogs in one hand, you pulled the door open with the other. Except, it didn’t open. On instinct, you tried again hoping Aemond didn’t notice.

He strode up next to you with the rest of the dogs in tow, smirking at you for real this time, as he said, “it’s a push door.”

You knew it was a push door. Fuck. He gave you a knowing glance over his shoulder as he walked out, waiting for you to follow along.

II.

You didn’t see Aemond on Wednesday and you couldn’t deny your disappointment when you left for the night. Come to find out you two had been volunteering at the same place for months – only on different days. He tended to be there Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Monday had been a chance encounter. One you couldn’t shake out of your head.

Before leaving tonight, however, you took a selfie with Aemond’s favorite old hound. You’d exchanged numbers but hadn’t an excuse to strike up a conversation. Yet. Now, with the selfie as an excuse, you opened a fresh text thread and sent him the photo along with:

Someone missed you tonight!

While buckling up in your car and getting ready to reverse out of your parking spot, your phone dinged with an incoming message:

Very cute. Will you be there on Monday? Maybe Cargyll will assign up walking duties again.

Your belly flipped. Truthfully, you weren’t expecting him to message back – especially so quickly. Before you could stop yourself you sent back:

Yup! See you then?

And he sent:

I’ll find another excuse to be there.

Feeling a little bold, you replied:

Excited to see you again! You have these adorable dimples when you smile. Maybe I’ll see those, too?

When nothing came through for a few minutes, you feared you might have gone too far. It was just a little innocent flirting, right? Nothing bad? And then:

Maybe so. See you Monday.

Smiling, you didn’t send anything back. It’d be your luck to say something dumb and rub him the wrong way.

During your first walk, as soon as the ice broke, you both clicked really well. Hopefully – just maybe – things would flow like that again. The connection you felt, something akin to a liveware, couldn’t have been one-sided. He had to feel a spark of it, too; even if just a little.

You drove home, made dinner while facetiming one of your friends from uni, and when she asked about the spark in your eye you told her about your friend Helaena’s younger brother.

III.

“I seriously cannot believe you’ve never seen The Lord of the Rings. The Hobbit trilogy was a little silly, but watchable. But you haven’t even seen that?” Aemond asked clearly aghast at your lack of understanding his reference.

Tonight, you both got walking duty again and neither of you complained. And, this time, he regarded you with a softer look in his eye than his original sharp glance. He was dressed in dark casuals again and you hated (loved?) how good he made them look. His hair was in a bun and his eyepatch stayed firmly in place. You wanted to ask him about it but weren’t sure if you should try it yet. Instead, you rolled your eyes and laughed. “You’re making it sound better and better the more you talk about it.”

“That’s because it’s the best.” The dogs pulled both of you along and you had to walk brisker than normal to keep up with them and Aemond’s longer legs. He seemed unaffected by it.

“So, you recommend I watch it?” You asked playfully.

“No,” he started, very serious. “I recommend you read it first and then watch the movies.”

If you had more breath in your lungs you’d have giggled – not laughed, but giggled. Something about the way he said it, and the totally serious look on his face, tickled you. “Will you watch them with me?”

The question appeared to catch Aemond off guard. He looked at you, lingering over your pinkened cheeks and smirking lips, before finally making it back to your eyes. Just when he opened his mouth to say something in reply, a completely unrelated thing stole his attention. Sometime during your bantering you’d made it back to the shelter, and a tall dark-haired woman called out, “there’s my sweet Aemond. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you and you haven’t been answering your phone.”

If you thought Aemond attractive, this woman made him look like any regular ol' Joe. She was elegant, warmed by a late summer tan, and had raven dark hair cascading down her back; truly a vision of enchantment. When she sauntered to him and pressed her body to his, you felt like a voyeur watching the embrace.

“Alys,” Aemond breathed quietly. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want,” she answered as she trailed manicured fingers across the front of his chest.

She had a timeless look to her, the kind that concealed her age. She could have been anywhere from twenty-five to fifty, you thought. You really hadn’t a clue. All you knew, now, is that you should finish your task alone.

Aemond’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. Posture tense. “I told you I was busy tonight–”

Before you could stop yourself you cut him off with an awkward wave. “See you later, Aemond.” And, with that, you walked inside before you overheard anything else they might be saying to each other. Turning to glance over your shoulder one last time, you were met with a look of deliberate triumph from Alys; she had the greenest eye you’d ever seen.

It was haunting.

Driving home, you felt stupid. Aemond was just a guy you just met. It was silly to think someone like him would be single and even sillier to think your innocent flirtations would be working on him. You had half a mind to delete his number. Or, at the very least to delete the short message thread of your texts.

Instead of making dinner like you normally did, you called in delivery and facetimed with your friend as you waited. She immediately knew something was off and you were quick to tell her everything that happened.

Twenty minutes passed and you were starting to feel better. It’s not like you two hooked up or even kissed. It was just a chance meeting with playful banter. Nothing to get shook up about. “Food’s here. Thanks for listening to me. I’ll talk to you later. Love you!” You said as you got up to answer the door.

When all else failed, your favorite food could always make you feel better.

Turning the tv on and sitting down amongst your couch pillows and blankets, you were getting ready to dig in when your phone rang.

Aemond.

Your insides did a weird flip and hunger disappeared entirely from your mind and belly. Should you answer? Let it go to voicemail? Turn the stupid thing off and completely ignore him? Right before the final ring, you decided. “Hello?”

“Hey,” he said, immediately sounding relieved. “I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t yet ready to call it a night with you.”

“It’s no biggie,” you replied. Lying. “I didn’t want to interrupt anything–,” you paused, searching for something else to say to soften the edge of your voice, “–the dogs were getting tired anyway.” God. It sounded stupid even to your own ears.

Aemond sighed through the phone. You wondered if he slid his hand down his face or through his hair. It sounded like he did. “No. Alys is… it’s complicated. She’s my ex and–”

“ –you don’t have to explain anything to me,” you said, cutting him off. “Really. It’s fine.” Despite it being a phone call, you tried to smile as if it would blunt the dismissal of your tone.

“I mean it,” he said. “I really wasn’t ready to say bye yet. What do you say you skip your regular Wednesday night plans and grab a milkshake or something with me?”

Your insides flipped again but for an entirely different reason this time. You knew it: the sparks definitely weren’t one sided. The firm set of Aemond’s jaw and the rigidness of his shoulders flashed once more in your mind’s eye. Since your break up with your long-term boyfriend you’d been on a few dates, but none of them lead to anything worthwhile. With how you and Aemond clicked, however? This date might lead to something more than a hook-up (or, attempt at a hook-up. Some men truly had no game). “Are you sure…?” You asked after a moment. “You and Alys looked pretty comfortable–,”

“ –I’m sure,” it was his turn to cut you off.

“Alright then. Let’s do it.”

IV.

It'd been two months since your first milkshake date with Aemond – the first of many dates. It was a guilty pleasure of yours and apparently one of his, too!

Your first kiss, first time meeting his elder dog, Vhagar, and first time meeting his family were all memories you cherished.

The more you learned about Aemond’s relationship with Alys, the more you understood it "complicated". Including Targaryen drama, Targaryen business, and a list of other things you had a hard time following. It didn’t matter anymore, though, Aemond reassured you. Things were done between them and he only wanted you; proving it to you with fingers and mouth until you begged for a break.

A lesson you learned from your last relationship – one Aemond learned from his, too – was to be careful with love. As much as you genuinely enjoyed him and his company, a barrier stood between you that neither dared yet to cross.

Love.

Each day you fell for him a little more; you were scared to admit it. The scar of heartbreak healed slowly. Could you truly trust Aemond with that part of yourself? With the very essence of your heart? It’d been two months and you still weren’t entirely sure.

If he felt the same he’d say something, right?

Autumn blanketed the lands with brisk air, rainy days, and rolling fog. As days grew short and nights long, you and Aemond spent more time at your apartment or his quarter at the Targaryen estate. Your apartment was the clear favorite. Living alone had its perks: never having to worry about nosy family or friends who showed up unannounced.

And thank God you didn’t live with anyone else.

"Mmh… fuck, baby, I've been thinking about this all day. I can't get enough of you. Let me make my girl feel good," he said against your mouth as one of his hands moved up the inside of your thigh. "Are you wet already? I bet you are," he chuckled, fingertips tracing your slit. "Mmm… I knew it. Your clit is sooo needy, isn't it?"

Shit. Those hushed words, the glint in his eye, his rasped tone… you happily indulged him in whatever way he wanted. And him, you. Fingers, mouth, cock, he quickly learned what tricks made you melt.

As much as he loved having you ride him, or bending you over, his absolute favorite was fucking you into the mattress. You sprawled out beneath him, hair messy and fanned out around your head, legs wrapped tight around his waist, fingernails on his body… he could never get enough of your blushed face beneath him, trembling and arching as he pushed you to peak after peak.

Your sheets had never been cleaned so often in your entire life.

It was particularly rainy today and you were both finished with everything on your to-do list. Aemond sat on the floor in front of you as you lounged in your overstuffed chair. You told him you'd read the Lord of the Rings as long as he read it to you. He didn't even pretend to be annoyed by your bargain. He read to you from his own collection, claiming he liked the worn feeling of the pages better than a new book's pages.

Like any proper reader Aemond started with The Hobbit. You enjoyed it more than you thought you would. More so than the story, however, you enjoyed him reading aloud to you – he had the loveliest voice. You were about half way through The Fellowship of the Ring and the story continued to get better.

But, all afternoon, Aemond's phone never stopped going off. It seemed like every few minutes it would ping with some kind of notification. "Who's blowing you up?" You asked, annoyance creeping into your tone.

Stopping mid sentence, he looked. "Alys," he sighed as he scrolled through the various messages.

You tried to not look over his shoulder to the texts. You really did. But there was something about Aemond's shift in posture, and the air around him, that made you suspicious. "What's going on?" You asked in your best nonchalant manner.

"She's asking if I have some of her clothes at my place still," he answered and you swore you saw pink spread atop his cheeks.

That caught you off guard. "Why would she have clothes–"

And whatever else you were going to say was abruptly cut off.

There, in a new string of messages, was the single text line, "I miss you, baby boy," followed by at least three photographs of Alys in lingerie and various stages of undress.

"What the fuck Aemond!?" You asked, anger and hurt instantly warming your blood. "What the hell were those? Are you fucking joking?"

"I have no idea why she sent–"

" –is that why she left clothes at your place? Couldn't let her go for real? Jesus Christ I can't believe you." Anger flushed your face and bittered your words.

"Listen, please. Hear me out, bab–"

" –oh fuck off, Aemond, you don't get to 'babe' me around anymore. In fact, just leave."

He looked as hurt as you. And shocked. A hundred emotions played across his chiseled features. "No, really. Let me explain," he pleaded with eye and tone.

You weren't having it. You were cheated on before and he knew it. It made your own hurt cleave even deeper. You really fucking liked him. Maybe even loved him. And this whole time he had you and Alys? "I'm seriously about to get really fucking angry. Leave. Now."

He stood and left. Silent fury screamed around him like a whirlwind. He didn't even give you one final look over his shoulder.

He shut your door with a deliberate click.

You curled up in your blanket alone as fat ugly tears streamed down your face. You couldn't be bothered to grab a tissue for your snotty nose.

Aemond's leather jacket was still draped over the back of your couch and his book still lay on the floor. Your crying somehow turned uglier at the realization.

Eventually you dozed off. With Aemond, you always had your phone on silent so you didn't hear all his missed calls and texts.

The following month went by in a blur; you drowned yourself in work. You also stopped volunteering because you didn't want to give Aemond the opportunity to meet you there. By some feat of strength you ignored all his attempts at talking – and by proxy, apologizing.

The only thing you said to him was a single text:

I need time. Please understand

Part of you wondered how it affected him. His calls and texts became sparse until they eventually stopped.

Helaena asked where you'd been and you felt horrible lying to her. So, you didn't. After telling her the story she sighed and asked if you'd want to grab tea. You agreed. Meeting her at a local cafe allowed you to air out your feelings; laughs and tears alike. She was kind, and sweet, and supportive without being passive. She loved her brother but knew he had many of his own issues. You'd been friends for over a year and this was the first true heart to heart you shared.

Upon returning home you picked up the Fellowship and tried to read from where Aemond left off. But, it wasn’t the same without him and it only made you cry. Again.

VI.

The following morning, despite your car's newer model, it barely wanted to start for your drive to work. By a stroke of luck you made it there fine. And, made it back home that evening, too. But that was the end of your luck. It needed to be picked up and taken to a shop until a mechanic could see it.

Carless, you had to rely on Uber or public transportation. Yuck.

A few days of stress passed and now you were done for the week. Thank God for weekends. Unfortunately your groceries were extremely low and you would need to make a trip in the morning. You sighed and used it as an excuse to order pizza.

After waking up and a breakfast of (the last, and past its sell-by date) packet oatmeal you got around to make the walk to the nearest grocery store. Knowing you'd be walking home, too, the list was small. Carrying bags up two flights of stairs was hard enough, much less carrying them home a mile!

On the way back it started sprinkling. Great. Just great. You started walking faster with hopes of making quicker time than your leisurely stroll to the store. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, you heard your name called. Was that…? Stopping in your tracks you looked across your shoulder to the side of the road and saw none other than Aemond. You knew his car and voice anywhere. You didn't have to see yourself to know a dozen emotions played across your face.

"Hey," he said gently, his own features a mirror of yours.

"Hi," you said.

"Why are you walking in the rain with groceries?"

Slumping your unintentionally scrunched up shoulders, you sighed. "Stupid car died on me and it's been with the mechanic for almost a week."

He smiled softly. So soft. The outside of his seeing eye crinkled and emotion rushed to your chest. Your gut. "You're way too good to be walking alone. Let me drive you home at least?"

You didn't resist. How could you? "Alright. Sure. Just dropping me off though, okay?" Guilt panged your chest. Did he feel it too? Could he read it on your face he knew so well?

"Alright," he answered, expression falling just slight. You might as well have stomped on his foot with how it affected you.

I miss you. I love you. I'm sorry. Can we try it again? Can I hold your hand? God I love your hair in a ponytail. You smell good. Did you see the trailer for that new horror movie? I miss you. I love you. I'm sorry. It all turned around your head like a fucking rotisserie chicken. It shouldn't be so hard to say any of those things to him. But it was.

You didn't say anything on the short ride home. Neither did he. His right hand flexed a few times and you wondered if he was having a hard time, too.

"Can you get it all upstairs?" He asked as he pulled into an empty spot and parked, looking across to you with horribly concealed emotion.

"Yes, but…," you trailed off momentarily, trying to read his face. "I still have your book and jacket. Wanna come up and grab them?" You asked hopefully.

He killed the engine faster than you could blink. "Yes! So that's where they've been. You could have mentioned it sooner," he said slightly accusingly, grinning at you with a spark of playfulness.

Leading the way upstairs to your apartment, you unlocked the door and disappeared inside. After placing your items down and grabbing Aemond's, you turned to look at him standing in the doorway. He leaned against it. Waiting. Quiet. He glanced around with a wistfulness that made your throat tight. You watched him watching you and your home until the air became awkward – was it half a second, a few seconds, longer? You weren't sure.

Slowly you walked over to him. Your gaze flickered up at him as you handed his things back. "Were you ever going to tell me the truth?" You asked. "Did you think I really wouldn't find out? Why did you stick around if I wasn't good enough?"

He blinked. Taken back. "You never even gave me the chance to explain." His jaw feathered before it tightened. His eye hardened.

You grabbed the door, fixing to close it on him. Now that you started talking – unloading pent up questions which kept you tossing and turning at night – you couldn't decide if you wanted to slam it on his face or yell. "I told you how I was cheated on! And you did it anyway! I trusted you, Aemond." Your voice thinned, sounding shrill even to your own ears.

One of his hands braced on the door so you couldn't close it on him. "So this is your revenge then, huh? Punishing both of us? Why don't you trust me?" Hurt and fury simmered in the lovely hue of his eye. A storm. No, a hurricane. "Alys and I have been done for months. Months. Even before you and I met. I'm sorry for what she did but I can’t control what she does. She was playing her wicked games trying to sabotage us– you and me. Don't shut me out. Please."

He pleaded, every pore and line of his face begging for forgiveness. As each word came off his tongue they clicked into place in your head. He meant it. He was telling the truth. Before you could stop yourself your fists balled into the front of his shirt, pulling him down so your mouth crashed up to his. "You mean it?" You asked through the kiss.

Instantly he leaned down into you, and instantly he held onto your waist pulling you deeper against him. His other hand cradled the side of your face daring to curve along the shape of your skull. "I mean it. Yes I fucking mean it," he answered against the kiss; breath stealing yours away until it left you in a little moan.

You pulled him inside and shut the door, locking it. You moaned as he nipped and bit at your neck. Your heart thumped wildly. He sucked at the sensitive skin, again and again, pulling away just before leaving a mark. "God, Aem,” you whimpered. Goosebumps covered your body. The only thing on your mind was him.

"Fuck, I missed you. I missed you so much." His hands were somehow all over you all at once. His mouth trailed, and dragged, and kissed over any exposed portion of your skin. He happily pulled off layers of your clothing to expose more and more of your soft, warm, saccharine flesh; intoxicating him. After weeks of your separation the last thing he wanted to do was to push too far too fast. “Can I take this off?” He asked before taking your shirt off.

“Yes,” you replied breathily. “Fuck it. Take all of it off. I missed you too. So much,” you said as you helped pull his clothes off, too. He pushed you against a wall. You kissed. Heavier, and hotter, and hungrier. You pushed him against a wall.

He gasped as he smirked. “I love when you act all tough when we both know I can have you squirming under me in minutes,” he growled, pupil swelling. The dimples at the very corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement, however, as he once again pushed you against the wall. You were both only in your underwear, now, and his lean body on yours had you aching. “My tough girl… how quickly do you think it’ll last when my fingers are in you?”

“Why don’t we find out?” You asked defiantly, knowing damn well it wouldn’t last long at all. By now you were both down the hallway and your bedroom was only a couple feet away. You needed him. Now. And judging by how fucking hard he was he needed you too.

The next moment went by in a blur and before you could catch yourself you were sprawled out on your back atop your bed. Aemond made quick work of moving you both inside, and made quicker work of pulling your panties down. He groaned as your thighs immediately spilled open for him. He dragged two fingers up your slit and circled your clit with your arousal. “Shit–,” he hissed. “Never make me wait so long to have this pussy again. Do you understand me? Never,” he said as he worked your already swollen clit. He played with it just how he knew you liked it and your cunt’s tiny wet sounds sent his cock throbbing. “Answer me.”

Tension built in the low muscles of your belly. Your legs began to tighten already – one of the tell-tale signs of your approaching climax. How the hell could he push you there so quickly? “N-never! Ahh-h never again!” You replied, voice light, and sweet, and tantalizing as any sin Aemond ever knew. “Please, Aemond, I want to cum…!”

He shoved those same two fingers into you. “Good girl,” he said as he curled those fingers. “This pussy is mine. All fucking mine. Give it to me,” he said huskily as he worked them in and out of you. It was sloppy and wet. Borderline obscene. Each time he slammed his hand against you he was mindful to press the heel of his palm against your clit and your mound, knowing how the extra pressure sent your pretty toes curling.

You cried out his name as your eyes clenched shut. The tension in your belly snapped and a wave of glorious bliss washed over you. Sweat sheened between your breasts and along your lip. You arched, quivered, shuddering in the aftermath of his intensity.

Aemond’s mouth crashed to yours and you threaded your fingers through the roots of his hair. It was still in a ponytail and you had no mind to take it out, you just had to pull him deeper into the kiss. He tasted the salt of your sweat and groaned. “Relax your pussy, baby, you’re clenching me really hard. It feels amazing but I don’t wanna hurt you pulling out,” he said tenderly, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.

“Sorry,” you giggled. “Just feels too good.” You tried to steady your breath and relax as he laid beside you, continuing to kiss your neck and shoulders. When your spongy walls finally eased around him you were sad to feel him withdraw. Stress melted away from your subconscious and you wanted to thank him for the pleasure. You wondered if your eyes said it while he looked at you.

Leaning up, he discarded the final piece of his clothing and sighed in relief as his cock sprang free. He got between your thighs and looked down at you hungerily. “Look at you all doe eyed already. See? I knew you couldn’t stay tough for long,” he said, smug, as he lined up with your drenched cunt. He held one of your legs up against him, and you pressed the other against his side.

When you left for the store this morning you had no idea your afternoon would go in this direction.

He pushed into you. Inch by inch he sunk into you and soon he was as deep as he could be. A moan escaped both of you, and a throatier one left him when his free hand tugged at your bra. It was one that clipped in the front. He popped it open and rocked into you as soon as your tits spilled free. "You're so sexy like this."

With your body already sensitive from your first orgasm, and now with Aemond building a rhythm between your thighs, you weren't going to last long. "You feel so good," you purred, eyelids heavy. "Fuck I missed you."

Another sound left his chest and when you wrapped your legs around his slim waist you swore you felt goosebumps pebble all along his skin. Or, maybe those were your goosebumps on your legs. Whatever the case, Aemond leaned forward and kissed you again. "I missed you too," he rumbled. "Gonna let me fill this pretty pussy with my cum again?"

You two made good use of your birth control and you weren't about to deny him – or yourself – the pleasure of being thoroughly fucked and stuffed. "Y-yeah," you stammered, smiling.

Aemond mumbled something incoherent into your neck, and if your brain wasn't foggy from his perfect fucking cock you might have caught what he said.

He leaned up and supported himself on his forearms, pressing his forehead to yours. "You're my girl. You're my fucking girl. You're my fucking girl," he repeated again and again until the pace of his thrusts grew sloppy. Somehow the sloppiness of it, the neediness and urgency of his voice, sent emotion swelling in all of you.

Heat collected and grew out from your spine, webbing throughout your entire body. You clung to him desperately. You rolled your hips up into him and shamelessly grinded your clit against his pelvis as he drove in and out of you. It was all too much. You crumbled beneath him and let orgasm take control of you. The depths of your body squeezed and convulsed around him, holding him tight and soaking the fullness of his length with your slick. He never stopped or paused his thrusts.

His own peak followed. Once he was as deep as he could be he released everything he had into you. He stayed there, both of you panting through little moans, until he no longer twitched between your stretched walls. Slowly, he pulled out, and slowly, his seed dribbled out of you. Grinning, he rolled onto his back and scooped you against him.

"Let's stay here like this all day," you mumbled happily, fingertips trailing up and down his abdomen and chest.

"You'll get no argument from me," he said.

Quiet minutes passed and the sound of his heart nearly put you into a trance. "I'm sorry for how I acted," you finally admitted.

All the while he'd been petting and trailing his fingers through your hair. He didn't stop as he answered, "and I'm sorry for not trying harder." He kissed your forehead and held you tighter.

"Let's try it again. For real this time. With the titles and commitment and everything."

"Are you asking or telling me to be your boyfriend?"

You smirked. "I'm suggesting."

Returning your smirk, he pulled you atop him so you could straddle him. "You're all mine," he said with a dark eye. "My perfect girl."

Leaning down, you kissed and nipped his bottom lip. "Are you already hard again, Aemond Targaryen?"

A chuckle rumbled somewhere in his chest as his touch dented into your hips to hold you at just the right angle. With a roll of his hips he pushed himself up inside you again. "Whose cock is this?"

You gasped, eyes darkening with another round of lust. "Mine."

"That's right. Yours. Not anyone else's. It's fucking yours."

You rode him until your tits were covered in fresh hickies and you were filled with another load of him.

Yours. His. The second chance you both needed.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @dreamsofoldvalyria @chompchompluke @fan-goddess

Aemond taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @sahvlren @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @okfashionista @avidreader73 @snh96 @boofy1998 @evermorre

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #modern aemond #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond imagine #request

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wholoveseggs · 15 days

Note

Huhu, me again :) As I am re-reading your stories while stuck at home with the flu, I was thinking of another possible story: Reader is Rebecca's friend and a high-end prostitute. She has seen and experienced some rough things and is not trusting around men at all. Elijah is in love with her, but she will only accept him as a client (just sex for money, no kissing, no tenderness). He does everything in his power to change her mind.

Thanks, ❤️. Hope you have a lovely weekend!

Safe

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

In a world where trust is hard to come by, you've learned to keep your guard up, especially around men. But when Elijah enters your life, he's determined to break through your defenses, venturing into a realm of passion, pain, and the search for something real.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @originals23 I always adore your requests! Hope you are feeling better ♡♡

8.2k words - Warnings: smut, oral sex, white knight Elijah, lots of fluff and affection, Rebekah being badass...

PLEASE NOTE: this has descriptions of sexual assault, trauma & violence... don't read if these things trigger you ♡♡♡

Elijah considered himself a man of experience. He had seen and done everything in his many centuries. He was no stranger to the ways of the world, to the ways of power, to the ways of pleasure.

He watched society evolve and change in many ways, but some things always stayed the same, even after one thousand years.

Elijah knew what he was to women, the way they would fawn over him, the way they would throw themselves at him. It had never bothered him, he used this privilege to disarm potential threats, to protect those he loves.

Never in his long years had he considered paying for sex, he was not the kind of man that needed to pay for a woman's affections. He was a gentleman, he treated women with respect, courted them, loved them.

But then, there was you.

He would meet you in hotels, only the most luxurious, expensive, exclusive ones, where no questions were asked, and privacy was guaranteed.

You were always punctual and dressed to the nines, always with the most stunning outfits, the finest dresses, the highest heels. Your hair was always perfectly styled, your makeup expertly done.

You were far more put together than he could ever be. It made him want to believe that it was all just for him, but he knew better than that. You looked expensive because you were expensive.

The first time was a complete whim, a moment of weakness. He met you through his sister, at an event she was hosting. He tried to get you in his bed the old fashioned way, with his charm, and it almost worked. He was not used to rejection. But, he got the impression that it was not personal, for you it was just business.

So, he took a chance and hired you for the night. You were not expecting it, he could tell, but you quickly hid it behind a mask of professionalism.

The sex was... Immaculate. He would be a fool to say anything else. In his many centuries of living, he had experienced his fair share of pleasures. He was an excellent lover, he knew it, he prided himself in being one, but you were the first woman he had been with, where he felt like the student.

He would never forget the image of you on your knees before him, with your red lips wrapped around his cock, the sight would stay burned into his retinas for eternity.

You were the perfect companion, always the right thing to say, the right thing to do. You would only give, and never take, leaving him wanting more.

After your first meeting, he became a regular, every Friday at 8pm at the Roosevelt Hotel.

It had become his routine, you would arrive dressed in something different each time, more breathtaking than the last. And each Friday, you would repeat the same motions; meet him at the bar, have a drink, make small talk, before inevitably returning to his hotel room.

You never looked him in the eyes when you rode him, head thrown back in ecstasy, legs trembling and breasts bouncing, the very vision of sin.

You were all fire and passion, never letting your heart get involved, as was your work's rule. Always just fucking, no kissing, no affection, never sharing anything that had the smallest ounce of intimacy.

There was only once where he would have thought he saw an ounce of vulnerability in your eyes.

On that particular Friday, Elijah had arranged for the room to have flowers and champagne and a wonderful spread for dinner. When you arrived, he greeted you the same way he always did, taking you in his arms, feeling the weight of you pressed against him. When he released you from the embrace, he turned to lead you to the couch, but found your cheeks tinged with pink and tears running down your face.

That was new.

You composed yourself almost immediately, a smile returning to your beautiful face. The moment passed. You apologized, saying the roses were so lovely, you felt a bit sentimental for a moment.

He wanted to call it out, but he was not a fool; you were crying because you were moved. He wondered if anyone had treated you with sincerity before. But he held his tongue, only responding that he was glad you liked them.

You drew him in like a moth to a flame. Your beauty, your intelligence, your wit, it all appealed to him, but there was something else, something he couldn't put his finger on.

He wasn't sure what it was, why you affected him so. Perhaps it was the mystery, the fact that he could never really get close to you, not like he wanted.

You were the perfect escort, always attentive, always beautiful, always ready to please. But you were also distant, aloof. You didn't want any affection from him, or to speak of romance, of love.

Your emotional unavailability felt like a mirror, reflecting his own loneliness, his own fear of intimacy.

He wondered how somebody so young, with so little years behind them, could harbor such pain behind their eyes.

Perhaps that is what drew him to you, the possibility that you could understand him, the darkness that lived inside him, the burden of immortality, the isolation that came with it.

He wanted to know you, not just the performance you put on for him, but what lies underneath the façade.

But you didn't allow him to. You kept him at arm's length, never letting him get too close.

He tried to be respectful, he tried not to push you, but he found himself wanting more, wanting things he shouldn't.

You were a good girl, you gave him what he paid for, nothing more. But he wanted more, he wanted you. He wanted to take you out on a date, to spoil you, to make you feel loved, to show you the world.

But he knew that would never happen. You were a professional, and he was just another client. Still, he couldn't help but wonder, couldn't help but hope.

He would keep coming back, and maybe one day, you would let him in. Maybe one day, he would finally get to show you the truth of his feelings.

Maybe one day, you would fall in love with him, too.

You were on another date with a new client, you always met them in public first, making sure they were who they claimed to be before you headed to the hotel.

You were always cautious, using protection, staying safe, trusting your instincts.

You tried your best not to judge your clients, you didn't know why they sought you out instead of dating. For some, it was simply convenience, for others, it was something more sinister. You worked hard to keep the latter far away from you.

This client was a bit shy, he wouldn't meet your gaze or answer any of your questions. It was like pulling teeth. But he didn't have that "off" vibe. Maybe he was just uncomfortable around women and that's why he sought you out.

He seemed to loosen up after a few drinks, his smile becoming more confident, his laugh deepening. His hands would occasionally drift toward your thigh as he leaned in close to talk.

"I rented the penthouse for tonight, it comes with a hot tub," he said awkwardly.

"Oh, that's nice," you tried to sound interested, taking a fake sip of your drink. You never drank or consumed anything while working. You had a fear of being drugged, you prioritized staying alert when with new clients.

"Would you care to see it?" his tone was low and raspy, and his gaze darkened with arousal.

"Of course," you smirked, taking his hand as he led you out of the bar.

Your phone buzzed, it was a text from Rebekah; she always made sure to check in when you were meeting new clients. You smiled, knowing she was looking out for you. The two of you had an emergency plan, if you ever felt unsafe, all you had to do was text her the word 'trouble' and she would come running, and wouldn't hesitate to defend you.

This was another reason you loved being friends with Rebekah, despite the vampire thing, her overprotectiveness of the people she cared for, she was so fierce. It felt good to have someone watch your back in a business such as this. That hasn't always been the case for you.

You texted her your hotel and room number as usual, trying not to let your mind wander to her brother. It was unprofessional to be thinking about him while you were with another client, but you couldn't help it.

It had been nearly three months since you began your arrangement with Elijah, and yet he was always the one that occupied your thoughts, plaguing your dreams, controlling your waking thoughts, your fantasies.

Never had a client affected you in such a way. Sure, you had attractive and charming men seeking your company, ones that smelled nice and tipped well. But Elijah was something else entirely. He made you feel things you didn't want to feel, you had rules, boundaries, reasons to keep a safe distance. Yet with every encounter, you were drawn deeper and deeper.

You pushed the image of him out of your mind, focusing on your present client. In the elevator, his hands were all over you, pawing at you like a horny teen. Clearly, he was very excited about what was going to happen when you got to the penthouse.

"Baby, slow down, we've got all night," you reminded him, hoping he would calm down.

He ignored you and leaned in to kiss you, he was new, so you politely pushed on his chest and let him know what your rules were.

"Hold on baby, there are rules, remember?" you said, pushing his hands away.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I thought that was just a scam, you know, a way to drive up the price," he said, his hand going to his pocket, pulling out his wallet. "How much extra are we talking?"

You could see his wallet was thick with cash and you felt sick, but you played it cool. "Those are my boundaries, honey. No kissing, protection mandatory, no touching unless I say so. That's just how I do business," you said, flashing him a bright smile.

He looked disappointed, but he didn't push. "Fine," he said, putting his wallet away.

You reached the top floor and he led you to the penthouse suite, opening the door and stepping aside. "After you," he said, his voice filled with barely contained desire.

The suite was luxurious, but not the best you've seen. There was a hot tub in the corner and a huge king sized bed. The bathroom was stocked with expensive toiletries and there was a large TV.

"Take your clothes off," he demanded, taking a seat on the bed.

He was far more assertive now that you were alone with him, more controlling. This wasn't too bad, you could work with that. He was older, his hair was a dirty blonde, starting to recede, he was kind of handsome if you squinted.

You began to strip, revealing your black lace lingerie. Your red dress fell to the floor in a puddle of fabric and you heard him growl with excitement.

He eyed you hungrily, licking his lips. "How many hours did I pay for again?" he asked, his voice dripping with lust.

"Five, and I've already started the clock," you said, giving him a coy smile.

"Good," he said, pulling out his wallet and tossing it on the bed. "Come here."

You walked over, stopping in front of him. He reached up, grabbing your breast roughly. "You have great tits," he said, squeezing.

You smiled at him, pretending to enjoy it. You knew he was paying for this, for the fantasy. You pride yourself on your performance, making sure your clients are happy, but you could already tell this was going to be a long couple of hours.

He seemed impatient, rough and demanding. Not exactly your favorite, but this was part of the job. Besides, you had been through worse.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"Yes, sir," you replied, playing the part.

He grabbed your face roughly, making you look into his eyes, then everything became strange, fuzzy, distorted.

Your body felt numb, like you were floating, the room was spinning, and you had the strange sensation of being both in your body and outside it.

You were riding him, you didn't remember how you got there, or when he took his clothes off, but there he was, his cock filling you.

He was groaning and moaning beneath you, his hands gripping your hips tightly. Your neck hurt, your breasts hurt, your thighs hurt, you looked down to see deep bite marks all over you, blood running down your skin.

You blinked, and suddenly you were on your back, the bedspread covered in blood, your blood. You looked up at the man above you, his mouth twisted into a cruel smirk, his eyes completely black.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Not enjoying yourself?" he sneered, his hand going to your throat. He squeezed, cutting off your air supply.

You gasped, struggling to breathe. Your lungs burned, your eyes filled with tears.

"What did you do to me?" You said, your voice sounding like it was coming from far away. He couldn't have drugged you, you didn't consume anything with him, you were always so careful.

He bit into your neck, his fangs sinking into your skin, holding you down with incredible strength. Cold fear ran through your veins, he was like Rebekah, like Elijah, he was a vampire.

You struggled, trying to fight him off, but you couldn't move, his strength was overwhelming. You felt him drinking your blood, his teeth tearing through your skin.

He pulled back, rolling off of you, lying beside you. "Don't worry, sweetheart, it'll only hurt for a minute," he said, his voice full of malicious glee. "Go wash up for round two," he demanded.

You sat up, trying to gather yourself. You needed to get out of there, and fast. You were bleeding heavily, and the world was still spinning.

He got off the bed and headed to the kitchenette, the sounds of glasses clinking and liquid pouring into a glass filled the air. He must've been getting a drink.

You were lightheaded from the blood loss, your legs shaky. You searched for your purse on the floor, the room looked different, distorted, and you couldn't find the damn thing anywhere. You were losing precious seconds looking for it, your adrenaline keeping the panic at bay.

You caught sight of it, it was beside the night table. You snatched it up and grabbed your phone, typing out the word 'trouble' to send it to Rebekah, hoping the word was enough for her to get the message.

You felt his hands on you again, a hard tug against your hair.

"Back on the bed like a good little whore," he hissed, throwing you on the bed. "I wasn't done with you."

He flipped you onto your stomach, hiking one leg up and exposing you to him. The edges of your vision grew dark, and you could hear your heartbeat growing slower, weaker. You tried to scream, but no sound came out.

You were going to die. He was going to kill you, and no one would know. Rebekah wouldn't come. You would be gone, and no one would ever find you.

Then, as your vision faded to black, all you could think of was how this was the end, how you didn't want to die this way. You had fought so hard to escape this fate, to be someone; something better than this, and yet, here you were, being raped and killed by a monster.

In the darkness you heard a bang, the cracking of wood. Someone was yelling, there was a struggle.

Then, a hand on your face, warm, soft. You heard a familiar voice, a voice that made your heart skip a beat.

"Elijah," you whispered, barely audible.

"I'm here, I'm here," he said, his voice full of panic.

You felt him press his wrist to your lips, his own blood filling your mouth. "Drink," he said softly, and you obeyed.

His blood sent a wave of heat through your body, the pain receding. You drank deeply, the world growing clearer.

You opened your eyes, his worried face above yours. He immediately pulled off his suit jacket and wrapped it around your naked form, scooping you up and cradling you in his arms.

You clung to him, feeling the last vestiges of the monster's compulsion fade. You could see Rebekah standing over the man, whose spine was in her hand, her eyes dark with rage.

You were suddenly aware of the gravity of the situation, and tears began to stream down your face. You sobbed, the trauma, the horror of what had almost happened hitting you full force. You thought you had escaped this life, that it was all in your past, but it was there, fresh and ugly, rearing its head like a hydra, reminding you it would always be a part of you.

Elijah held you tightly, whispering soothing words as Rebekah inspected the body. He was solid, strong, his arms encircling you, holding you together.

"Who is he? One of Marcel's?" Elijah asked, his voice low and angry.

"He better not be," she said, taking a picture of the vampire's face and sending it to someone.

She stood up, wiping her hands on her pants, the blood from the dead vampire staining the fabric. "I'll take care of it," she said, her voice hard and cold. "Get her home," she said, gesturing to you.

Elijah nodded, carrying you out of the room. You clung to him, trying not to fall apart, not to let the pain overwhelm you. He helped you get dressed, you felt like you were outside of your body, watching the events unfold from somewhere above, somewhere safe.

It was the same place you went before. When you were younger, when you were forced into this life, it was a coping mechanism, a way to protect yourself from the horror of it all. It was a way to survive, and it was serving you now, letting you function as your body went through the motions.

You found yourself in Elijah's car, his smell surrounding you. You buried your face in his suit jacket, inhaling his scent, letting it ground you.

He was quiet, his face grim, his jaw clenched. He drove quickly, his hands gripping the steering wheel. You expected a lecture about your lifestyle, perhaps a few well-meaning but patronizing comments about how you should change, should find a new line of work.

But he said nothing. He didn't judge, didn't make you feel small, or dirty. He simply drove, his presence a balm on your battered soul.

You arrived at your building, standing at your doorway, trying to find your keys. Your hands were shaking, and he gently took them from you, unlocking the door.

You stepped inside, feeling a sense of relief. You were safe now, he had saved you, and you were home. You turned to see him still waiting in the doorway, his eyes full of concern.

"You don't have to invite me in," he said softly. "I'll wait out here until I know you're safe."

Your heart melted a little, his kindness catching you off guard. He was a gentleman, and his chivalry touched something deep inside you.

You could feel yourself being pulled toward him, and it took all of your resolve to pull back, to remind yourself of the lines, the rules, and boundaries.

"It's okay, you can come in," you said.

He nodded, stepping into the apartment, closing the door behind him. He stood there awkwardly, it was breaking all the rules, being at your home, and he was unsure of the boundaries.

He could see you, the real you, in every facet of your home. From the paintings to the books, the carefully curated pieces of your life. It felt so personal, to be standing in this space, and he could see the pain and vulnerability, the fight in you. The beautiful complexity. It was so... human, to see your life displayed so honestly, no veneer, no illusion, no façade.

"I'm going to take a shower, make yourself at home," you said, gesturing towards the living room.

He nodded, moving towards the couch, taking a seat.

You disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He was angry, furious. Marcel better have answers as to why some random vampire was in the quarter attacking people, because if he didn't, there would be hell to pay.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his rage. He could hear the water running, and he tried not to think about you, what you just went through, what could have happened.

It all happened so fast, one moment he's in the compound, the next he's following Rebekah into a hotel room, watching her rip the spine from that vile beast.

Seeing you there, pale and lifeless, made him snap. He felt something shift inside him, his mind clouded by anger. In the years he lived, Elijah prided himself on being a rational man. He didn't lose control often, or ever, really, but at that moment, seeing you there, he was lost.

Rebekah killed him too quickly, he deserved a more painful death. He would have drawn it out, tortured him slowly, watching the light go out in his eyes. He hated vampires like that. Abusing humans in that way, playing with one's food was so very undignified.

He was so lost in thought, he didn't notice you walking out of the bathroom, wearing a large t-shirt that went past your knees.

You felt a bit more like yourself, the shower having washed away some of the pain and horror. You still felt shaken, and a little dazed, but you were starting to come back to yourself.

"I'm sorry, I think your jacket is ruined," you said, sitting down next to him.

He smiled sadly, glancing at the bloodied garment in his hands. "It's just a suit jacket. I can get another one," he replied.

A silence fell over you, a little uncomfortable, full of the emotions the night had stirred up. You felt raw, vulnerable. Like he could see right through you. Like everything was different, had changed, somehow. You weren't sure why. Maybe it was because he saved you.

You watched as he seemed to have a mental war with himself, his mind far away. You wondered what was going on in that ancient mind of his, what demons he was wrestling with, or what judgments he was passing.

Finally he looked at you, his expression soft, understanding. "I'm sorry about what happened. To you," he said gently.

The sincerity of his words took you by surprise, and tears sprang into your eyes. You blinked them back, not wanting to fall apart.

"It's my own fault, I'm used to this sort of thing," you replied, waving it off. "I knew better."

"You are used to this," he said, his tone careful. "You shouldn't be used to this," he explained.

Your eyes snapped to him, searching for the meaning behind his words.

"No one should ever have to endure that. No one," he said firmly.

He didn't say you should leave the business, act like some sort of savior, telling you what you should and shouldn't do. He didn't take it upon himself to make a proclamation about your lifestyle. Instead he met the facts with pure empathy and honesty.

It felt... genuine. It was a first. And somehow, coming from him, it meant something more. His kindness was a floodgate that allowed emotions, memories and old pain to come rushing forward.

"I ran away from home when I was just fourteen, my mom's boyfriend was... He would beat me, touch me," you said, tears stinging your eyes.

You hadn't talked about this in a long time, you had spent years trying to forget it ever happened, burying it under layers of denial, and in that moment, it all came flooding back.

"I met a woman on the street that offered me shelter for a night, and it snowballed into her making me turn tricks to repay her," you explained, looking anywhere but at his face.

It felt good to talk about it, to get the weight off of your chest. You had kept it all bottled up for so long, and the night had triggered those old memories, so it seemed right to finally share your story. His presence was warm, safe, comforting, and something told you, you could be vulnerable with him, and not be judged for it.

"When the women offered to take me in, it seemed like a blessing. Like she was saving me, offering to feed and clothe me," you sighed, shaking your head, lost in the memories of your youth.

"But she wasn't saving me, she was buying me. Buying my misery, my pain. My innocence, my body, my trust. And then, one day, I was beaten bloody, the guy she sold me to for the night refused to give her a cent and she put her cigarette out on my neck." You looked down at your lap, remembering the smell of your flesh burning, the pain radiating through your skin.

"I wasn't useful to her any longer, so she dumped me like a bag of trash." You spat the words out, trying to stay objective. Distant. You felt his eyes on you.

"And what did you do?" He asked, his voice so low and gentle. So inviting.

"I slept in a dumpster, stole clothes off of someone's line, begged on the corner, just to get by, to eat. A lady took pity on me and gave me enough money for a bus ticket," you continued, wiping a single tear away.

"The first bus I saw took me to New Orleans, and I've been here ever since," you concluded, a cold sense of finality settling over you. You didn't realize how heavy the memory had weighed on you, it had sat in the back of your mind, never giving you a moment of peace, haunting you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to unload on you like that," you said, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"Never apologize for what's happened to you, or how you've reacted to it," he replied. "I know this won't be much help, but you're a survivor. And you did what you had to, and still managed to end up here."

The simplicity of the statement hit you deeply. He understood. He understood what you went through, where you were coming from. He reached out and wiped away another one of your tears. You leaned into his touch, craving the comfort of his warmth.

You didn't understand how, or why, but somehow he had made it into your fortress, your walled off heart. A place no man had reached, touched or explored. Yet there he was. His thumb still swiped gently across your cheek, his dark eyes staring into your own.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth. He was firm and solid, his shoulder the perfect spot to nestle in. This gesture, the simple embrace was overwhelming and your emotions spilling over. You cried, really cried, for the first time in many years. Not just tears streaming from your eyes, or silent drops, you sobbed. Your body racking with each painful outburst, a river of tears flowing over his crisp dress shirt. He held you the entire time, rubbing his hand in small circles across your back, whispering words of comfort, and strength.

Somehow, the mere knowledge of him understanding you, listening to you, opened the dam, releasing all of the pain you had repressed and carried around like an overloaded suitcase.

You cried until you exhausted yourself, and he picked you up, effortlessly and set you in his lap, your arms around his neck, your body folded into his. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, soothing, grounding. You could stay like that forever, cocooned in his strength, feeling truly safe for the first time.

You let your eyes droop, knowing that nothing could hurt you while he was there, and you succumbed to sleep, his hand combing gently through your hair, humming a soft melody murmured in a long forgotten tongue.

You woke up with a start, the morning sun streaming in through the window. You were alone, Elijah's suit jacket draped over you.

You frowned, wondering if perhaps it all had been a dream. If the monster, if the comfort of a stranger had never happened, just a horrible, awful, vivid nightmare. You glanced down and saw the dry bloodstains covering the jacket and realized it hadn't been.

Elijah wasn't a stranger. Not anymore. Something had changed between you, in a matter of hours. He saw all of your exposed, bloody, emotional, broken places, and you showed him a tiny piece of your soul, told him of your past.

You could smell his cologne, his smell lingering in the air, a faint scent left on the jacket. You took a deep breath and slipped the garment back on, smiling sadly.

You were a sucker for a nice suit.

The other smell in the air was coffee and you followed the scent into the kitchen. Rebekah was there, sitting at the table, two cups in front of her.

"Hope you like it strong," she said as you entered, gesturing to a cup of coffee in front of her.

You grabbed it, taking a sip, appreciating the kick of flavor.

"Sleep well?" she asked, glancing at you over the cup of her own.

"Honestly? It's the best night sleep I've had in ages," you admitted, taking a seat, pulling his jacket a little tighter, it felt comforting to have it on, like a security blanket.

She laughed, studying you carefully, her eyes settling on the jacket.

You wondered if she knew, if she was able to tell you had developed a very powerful crush on her brother.

Rebekah didn't know that Elijah was one of your clients, and it felt like a big secret to keep. She never judged you for your job, but she certainly judged those who sought your services.

You felt guilty for not telling her, but it was all so complicated. Your feelings for him were evolving, and you weren't quite sure what they were, or what they meant. She was your only friend and you wanted to confide in her, but you didn't know how.

"Beks, I... I have to tell you something," you said, feeling a bit nervous.

"What is it?" She asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Eli- Elijah has been my client since you introduced me to him," you blurted out.

She sat there, shocked, not saying anything for a moment.

"Elijah. Like my brother... Elijah? The one who was with us last night, and spent the night here? That Elijah?" She said, the look of shock on her face almost comical.

"Yes, that Elijah," you said, a blush creeping across your cheeks.

"My noble brother, who is too honorable and dignified to wear the same tie twice... Has been paying you for sex?" she said slowly, seeming to process the information, before a smirk formed on her lips. "What a delicious twist. I always thought Klaus was the manwhore brother," she added with a cackle.

You blinked, your jaw hanging open, before laughing. The tension easing, knowing she didn't hate you.

You took a deep drink of your coffee, relaxing, laughing. "I'll have you know Elijah is a great client. He's an excellent tipper, not an unkind word to say, and no requests are too kinky or strange," you said with a smile.

Rebekah raised her mug towards you in a cheers motion, clearly amused, but her expression fell a bit when she took you in a little more. "You like him," she stated, her blue eyes studying your face.

"He's my client," you answered defensively.

"Yes, I am aware of the rules you play by, but you like him." She repeated her observation, this time more sure of herself.

"Yeah," you sighed. "Maybe it's wrong to, you know, develop feelings for a client. But something's different, I don't know how to explain it," you finished.

"Well, this explains why he insisted on coming with me to save you last night. And why he's gone all avenging angel this morning. I've never seen him so protective over someone who isn't family," she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Avenging angel? It must have shown on your face because Rebekah launched into the tale of her brother's crusade this morning.

Apparently, he decided to eliminate everyone who associated with your attacker. Including the vampire who sired him and several others. He was methodical, brutal and utterly relentless in his vengeance. Tying them up and letting them burn in the rising sun.

"That's..." You couldn't find the words. It was insane, and it was for you. He was doing this because of you, and it made your heart swell with emotion.

"You're important to him," Rebekah said, her voice soft. "He doesn't do murder sprees for just anyone."

You sat there, processing the information, your mind a whirlwind. You weren't sure what to think, or how to feel, the fluttering in your stomach now a hurricane.

You had never been important to anyone, not like this. Men had always seen you as an object, a means to an end, but never someone who cared about your safety and well-being.

You loved him, even though it broke all your rules, all the careful walls you had built around yourself. He somehow managed to slip past your defenses, stealing his way into your heart and planting seeds for a future.

It had been a few weeks since the attack, and you were finally starting to feel normal again. You went back to work, seeing your regular clients.

Rebekah had personally vetted and compelled every single one, and you felt safe and protected. None of them could possibly harm you, not with her looking over you.

The only thing that hadn't returned to normal was your regular once-a-week meetings with Elijah. He never called, or showed up, and it ate away at you.

Were you different to him now? After he learned about your past? Maybe he saw you as damaged goods, no longer a fantasy he could indulge in.

You weren't going to reach out, not after what had happened. He had been so kind and compassionate, but you weren't certain if it had really been genuine, or the situation making him act that way.

It hurt. As much as you tried to push it aside, and pretend it wasn't important to you, it was. Not just the money, but his presence, his kind eyes, the gentle way he cared for you. You missed him, and it broke your heart.

You needed something familiar, something safe. You had worn his jacket to bed every night since the attack, it was comforting, it made you feel safe. But not having him, being uncertain of what was going on, it was frustrating, and painful.

So, when you opened the door and saw him standing there, you were surprised. He had a bag of groceries in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other, an apologetic look on his face.

"Hi," he said, a shy smile on his face. "I'm sorry, for being away for so long."

You opened the door wider, gesturing for him to come inside. He walked past you, a nervous energy radiating off of him.

"It's okay, I figured you found another girl to play with," you replied off-handedly, a small part of you hoping to get a reaction.

He placed the bag on the table and spun around. "I assure you, no other woman holds a candle to your charms."

You laughed, liking his response, so typically him.

"I bought some groceries, and some wine," he said, gesturing to the bag and the bouquet. "Is there anything you would like me to make you for dinner?"

You smiled at him, his thoughtfulness making you blush. "Anything would be fine," you said, watching as he moved around your small kitchen. "You didn't have to do all this," you added, still a little taken aback by his gesture.

"I want to," he said, his brown eyes meeting yours. "I have some things I'd like to say, and I think a nice dinner might help."

You nodded, a nervous energy filling the room. He poured some wine, handing you a glass. You hesitated for a moment, fear creeping in, a million thoughts of how this could go wrong flooding your mind.

He noticed the hesitation and gently took your hand, giving it a kiss.

"If you don't want to drink, that is okay," he whispered, his voice full of understanding.

"No, it's okay," you said, smiling shyly.

You sat at the island, watching him as he worked. He was so at ease, so confident. He chopped and stirred, and the aroma of delicious food filled the air. You never experienced this sort of thing growing up, the peaceful domesticity. It was strange, sitting there with Elijah, it felt so foreign, yet so normal. So perfect. He moved about the kitchen with a practiced ease, humming softly.

You sipped the wine, the sweet taste filling your mouth. You couldn't remember the last time you had drunk a whole glass, let alone several.

After a while, he put the food on the plates, and handed one to you. It smelled delicious, and looked even better. You took a bite, the flavors exploding in your mouth.

"Wow, this is incredible," you exclaimed, taking another bite.

He chuckled, sitting down next to you on the counter, it was so casual, so relaxed, almost intimate.

"How did you learn how to cook?" You asked, curious.

"I've lived for a thousand years, I think it would be pretty embarrassing if I didn't know how to make a proper meal," he replied, his voice laced with amusement.

"I always forget just how old you are," you said, smirking.

"Does it bother you?" He asked, his voice hesitant.

"No," you said, smiling reassuringly.

You finished eating, the two of you chatting about mundane things, no talk of work or pasts, just simple conversation. It was refreshing, being able to just be, no pressure or expectations.

After you were done, he took your plate and started washing the dishes. You couldn't help but laugh, and he turned around, a look of confusion on his face.

"What's so funny?" He asked, drying his hands.

"You just... cooking, cleaning," you said, trying to compose yourself. "I've never seen anything like it,"

"Is that a bad thing?" He asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"No," you said, grinning, "it's actually really nice,"

"Good," he said, chuckling, then he splashed some soap bubbles at you.

You gasped and glared at him, wiping the suds off your top.

"Oh, you did not just do that," you said, a wicked smile on your lips.

You grabbed the sponge and squirted him, laughing as the soap hit his face. He shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes.

"That's how you want to play it, hmm?" He asked, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

He grabbed the faucet and turned it on, spraying you with water. You squealed and tried to dodge, but he was too fast, your feet slipping on the now wet kitchen floor. You went sliding, and Elijah caught you in his arms, laughing.

Your heart was racing, and you were sure he could hear it, beating furiously in your chest. His warm arms were wrapped around you, and your face was inches from his. He was so close, so solid, so real. The world around you disappeared, all that mattered was him. You wanted to give in, to let yourself feel, but fear crept in.

The past flashed through your mind, the memories, the pain, the shame. You pulled away, your heart aching.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your eyes full of tears.

He took a step back, his face full of understanding.

"It's okay," he said softly, his hand reaching out and stroking your cheek.

"What did you want to talk to me about? Why are you really here?" You asked, afraid of the answer.

"I..." He paused, his eyes searching yours. "I am no longer in need of your services,"

Your heart sank, your body suddenly feeling cold. It was the answer you were expecting, but it still hurt. After what he saw in that penthouse, after all of his concern and comfort, he was done with you. Your fears were coming true.

You nodded, forcing a weak smile.

"I just..." he trailed off, his eyes still searching yours, his hand still on your cheek. "I love you, and I've been using you," he said, his eyes full of sadness. "That's why I stopped coming, it was... too much. It felt like I was taking advantage of you."

You stared at him, shock washing over you. It felt like the world had stopped moving. Love? A word you never thought would apply to you, yet here was a man, looking at you with such tenderness, such compassion, such pure undiluted love. It wasn't something you could process, love wasn't a feeling you felt worthy of, it wasn't something you believed you deserved.

"Elijah..." You whispered, your voice barely audible. "You don't love me, you love the escort, the persona,"

"No, I love you, all of you," he said, his eyes locked on yours. "The good, the bad, the messy, all of it. That's why I can't use you anymore, because I want to love you, not just fuck you,"

You stood there, your emotions warring within you. Part of you was overjoyed, the other part was terrified.

You had never been loved before, and the thought of it was both exhilarating and terrifying. But you couldn't deny the pull between the two of you, the chemistry that was always there.

And it wasn't just physical, there was something deeper, something more. Something that was worth taking a chance on.

You reached out, your hand touching his face. You could feel his breath on your skin, his warmth radiating through you. Your heart was beating so fast, your hands trembling, but you pulled him closer, your lips ghosting across his.

He inhaled sharply, his eyes searching yours, his hand gently touching your face. You closed your eyes, his scent filling your nose. You didn't care that he was your client, that you swore this would never happen, or any of the reasons you always believed it would be better to stay distant.

He was the first one to move, kissing you softly, you could feel the love, the passion, the desire. His hands tangled in your hair, the kiss growing deeper, more intense.

You clung to him, your body pressed against his, the world around you fading away. It was perfect, the moment you had been waiting for. The first time you felt like someone actually wanted you, and it was better than anything you had ever imagined.

His hand slid down your body, his fingers brushing against your skin. You could feel the heat rising within you, the need for him growing stronger. He picked you up, his lips never leaving yours, and carried you into the bedroom.

He laid you on the bed, his body hovering over you. He kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hands caressing your skin.

You moaned, your body arching into him. You wanted him, all of him. You tugged at his shirt, pulling it off. He helped you, then pulled your top over your head.

He trailed kisses down your neck, to your chest, his tongue flicking over your nipples. You let out a soft moan, your hands tangled in his hair.

He continued his exploration, his lips trailing lower, down your stomach, and stopped at the waistband of your skirt. He hooked his thumbs under it, and slowly pulled it down, his mouth kissing your hips.

He kneeled between your legs, kissing the soft skin of your thighs, waiting for your permission to break the rules.

This wasn't work, or something you were forced to do. This was something new, something special.

You spread your legs further, your arousal glistening in the dim light. He moved up your body, kissing your neck as he peeled off his remaining clothes. You reached up, tracing his jaw, and then cupping his face. He looked up at you, his eyes full of love, lust, and worry.

You nodded your head, giving him the permission he needed. His hands gripped your panties, slowly sliding them down. Your heart pounded in your chest, anticipation building.

He kissed your clit, his tongue exploring the sensitive spot. You let out a soft moan, your body shaking.

He took his time, wanting to taste you, wanting to give you pleasure. You deserved to feel good, to forget the pain, if even just for a moment.

He kept teasing you, his tongue circling your clit, then dancing around it. You were aching for him, the tension inside you building.

You gripped the sheets, your body writhing beneath him. You felt the pressure release, a wave of pleasure washing over you.

You floated on a cloud of bliss, your body tingling with aftershocks. He kissed his way back up to you, his lips finding yours.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, cupping his face, pulling him close and kissing him. You had heard that from countless men over the years, but this was the first time you believed it, believed him.

You felt the length of him rubbing against your thigh. You reached down, stroking him, letting him know how much you wanted him.

He was so close, the scent of him filling your senses. He pressed himself against you, his erection teasing you, the ache between your thighs growing.

He wanted to make love to you, to show you what it meant to be with someone who cared about you, who loved you.

He slowly parted your legs, his gaze locked on yours, waiting for the final bit of permission.

You couldn't form the words, so instead you nodded, a shy smile on your lips. He understood, and slowly pushed into you.

You closed your eyes, the feeling of him filling you, stretching you, overwhelming you. It had been so long since anyone touched you like this, and he was doing it so perfectly.

But sudden fear coursed through you, everything replaying in your mind. All the men who had used you, forced you, made you perform. The vampire who dragged you back into your trauma, took away your control.

Elijah could see the distance in your eyes, the disconnect, and he pulled away, slightly, a concerned look on his face.

"It's okay," he said, his voice soft, "we can stop if you want to,"

You blinked, the memory fading, the realization setting in. Elijah wasn't like those men, he was different, caring, gentle. He made you feel safe in a way that no one else ever had.

You smiled at him, your heart swelling with love and affection. You reached up and cupped his face, gently pulling him towards you, your lips meeting his.

You poured your heart into the kiss, your emotions overwhelming you. He rolled the both of you on your sides, his arms wrapping around you. You clung to him, his name a whisper on your lips.

You felt a tingling building, but this wasn't pleasure, it was something else. A sense of euphoria washed over you, and for a brief moment, your whole being was at peace. You felt safe, loved, treasured. Your heart was whole, the pain and darkness gone, replaced by pure happiness and bliss.

You broke the kiss, your eyes wide as you looked at him, your heart pounding. You had never felt anything like it, never thought it was possible. You had experienced great pleasure, had orgasms that left you breathless, but this was something different, something deeper, something beyond description.

You blinked, reality settling in, your thoughts a tangled mess. You had broken your rules, given yourself to him completely, allowed him to touch the most broken and vulnerable part of you.

Your heart.

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