Worth The Price

Worth the Price

Synopsis: Aemond does everything to prove that he is worthy of you— even if it means that he would be a kinslayer twice.

Warnings: Aemond Plots Against Aegon, Oral Sex (f & m receiving), Mature, 18+, Semi-Public Relations, Choking, Edging, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 5,585

A/N: Reposting bc I was uncertain about this dynamic, but fuck it, I have a soft spot for a Lannister reader and cannot let it rest in my drafts.

Aemond had wanted you since he was young, but as a second son, he would always come second best to his brother. You were a daughter of house Lannister, betrothed to Aegon the moment you were born, an alliance not to keep their Valyrain blood pure but rather to be mixed with gold. You had grown in the walls of the keep, taken from your mother’s arms a few moons after your birth, and grew up under the supervision of your uncle, Tyland Lannister, as a measure to keep you acquainted with your betrothed, Aegon. 

However, such arrangements instilled since your infancy were changed when Queen Alicent was offered a bastard for her only daughter. The queen was quick to cut the engagement made in your infancy and instead betrothed her firstborn son to her firstborn daughter, offering Aemond as your consolation prize. Aemond, who was ten at the time, was thrilled to hear of such arrangements, finally gaining one of the things his heart yearned for the most: you. However, he could see the quiet and greatly covered disappointment not only in your house but in you as well— you were set to be queen, now you were now only to be the lady-wife of a mere second-born son. 

Aemond never truly heard such qualms leave your lips. He was fortunate enough that you had always been keen and kind to him in childhood, and your affection for him only grew in time. But he could not help but be affected by your quiet and greatly oppressed disappointment. For the first ten years of your life, you were prepared and molded to be a queen, hours of unending lessons on how to play the part wasted as you were to be bound to a mere second son. Aemond could not stand for it. He ambitioned to be so much more. He could not stand to be just the second. Second son, second in line, second in your heart. 

“My love, are you listening?” You asked as your husband’s gaze was afar, and you had noticed his attention was not on you. You furrowed your brows as he made no reply, tugging at his arm to bring him out of his trance. “I— I apologize, my heart, I was thinking of another matter,” You pursed your lips and hummed, “And praytell, what matter may that be? Certainly, it is of much importance that you have started ignoring me,” Aemond bit his lip to hinder his amused smirk; he just absolutely adored how you were never afraid to voice out and demand his undivided attention— in others, he would find that absolutely insufferable, but of course, that sentiment was not the same for his dear lady-wife. 

Aemond sighed and could not help but kiss you, unbothered that you two were in the halls and anyone could walk in and see such passion exuding from his usually stoic and rigged demeanor. As your lips parted and Aemond’s body was alight by the feel of your lips and the taste of you, you simply raised your brow, silently urging him to tell the matters that plagued his mind. Aemond tucked a strand of your golden hair and sighed once more, “Nothing— just mere matters of the realm that the king is too incompetent to comprehend and tend to,” You nodded, “Then he is lucky to have you— his brother forever capable and loyal to him and the kingdom,” Aemond bit his tongue. “You must steer him in the right direction, my love. We are already at war; we cannot have the kingdom in shambles because of Aegon’s squandering self. You have always been the diligent one, unending hours poured into learning the histories of your house and training with your sword… your great knowledge must be exercised greatly in this hour of war.” Aemond could only nod his agreement. You smiled and cupped his cheek, tracing his scar, and you hummed as Aemond pressed his cheek further into your soft palm. 

“Now go; I believe that it is the hour of the small council. Best be there and see to it that your brother does not humiliate your family’s claim to the throne further,” You say, reluctantly urging him to let go of his hold on you, even though you were always quick to miss his touch. Aemond shook his head, “Do not be so stubborn,” you said, and you smiled further when Aemond wrapped both of his arms around your waist. You rose to the tip of your toes and pecked your husband’s lips as encouragement. Even though you had shared his kisses countless of times, you still felt the quiet tingle on your plush lips as you two did such actions. “Very well then, I shall do whatever my lady-wife should ask of me,” He said against your lips, making your smile widen. You parted and tried to walk off, but Aemond took hold of your wrist and pulled you back to him, a laugh escaping from your lips, and you rested your hands atop his chest. “And where are you off to?” 

You smirked, “To some engagements for the court that I offered Helaena reprieve from. And after, you shall find me in our chambers… warming our bed… waiting impatiently for you.” You whispered the final part, watching as Aemond’s lilac eye darkened with want, pupils dilated that it made your core turn— finding it utterly flattering how quickly your husband will always grow in want of you. “Now go; the quicker you are to attend the meeting, the quicker they are to end, and you can be my arms.” You said and gave a final kiss on your husband’s cheek before hastily walking off, afraid that Aemond’s wants would get the better of him and take you against the alcove in the hall; it had occurred once or twice before. 

Aemond stomped off the room of the small council after a rather aggravating session with his brother. Seeing Aegon be so clueless with the matters of the realm and the war was pathetic. And in a way, Aemond found great satisfaction in that— seeing Aegon struggle to comprehend his words as he spoke in the ancient tongue, his brother unable to articulate even just one sentence without stammering like a simpleton was quite amusing but overly embarrassing. As the meeting ended, Aemond was quick to rise to his feet and leave, overly impatient to be with you— savoring every second in your arms before he had to leave quietly in the night to make good of his secret plottings with Ser Criston. 

Aemond walked the halls that led to his chambers, each step fervent and quick. The fading sun illuminated his chambers when he entered, setting it aglow in an amber hue. “I’ve been waiting,” Aemond heard you breathlessly call, his head quickly turning to your bed; he squinted his eye as he could not see you through the canopy covers. Aemond wasted no time to march in your direction; his breath caught in his throat as he saw your figure covered by nothing but a thin sheet that was comparable to what the whores in the street of silk wore. You lounged laxly in the middle of the bed, your body in full display for your husband, who stared at you dumbfounded and filled with desire. 

“Seven hells,” Aemond could not help but mutter in pure amazement. His knees felt weak, and his stomach coiled painfully in burning want of you. “Do you not like it?” You frowned as he only stood there, you feigned innocence— of course, you knew he would like it. You knew your husband better than he knew himself. Having grown up with him, you knew every possible thing there is to know about Aemond. Aegon may have been your betrothed at the start, but you were not at all keen to know him to such a deeper level than you had his brother. 

You went to the edge of the bed to meet your husband, who stood by the foot of it, kneeling before him as he hungrily raked his gaze through your body, yet he still did not dare to move. “Has my display rendered you simple, my prince?” You asked lowly, peeking up at him through your lashes and watching as the ball on his throat bobbed and hearing how his breathing turned ragged. You hummed and raised your hand to caress his cheek, rising higher to be met with his face, slyly pushing your breast against his clothed chest. Aemond groaned at just the simple feeling of that. You ghosted your lips against his jaw and neck, your fingers effortlessly undoing the buckles of his leather doublet. 

Your hand slowly trailed south after you had successfully removed his upper clothing; you heard the catch in Aemond’s breath as your fingers trailed his toned chest and torso. Every single inch of him was carved by the gods and embodied a warrior. Aemond hissed as he felt you cup his needing length through his trousers, watching as a sly smirk rose to your lips. “I see that you are quite… tense, my love,” You whispered against his lips, catching as his eye fluttered to a close as you added pressure into his length. “I am.” He gritted, and your smirk widened. “Hm… tell me then what do you need— what do you want, my prince?” You taunted and felt him shudder as you slipped your hand into his trousers, finally letting him feel skin against skin.

“I want… I need you, little wife. I desperately need you,” He muttered as his eye opened. Aemond moved to kiss your lips, but you instead lowered yourself to be met with his length, yanking down his trousers and letting your lips wrap around the tip of his needing and weeping cock. Aemond’s hands lost themselves in your hair, fisting the gold strands in utter pleasure, hissing as you sucked his length, urging yourself to take his cock deeper into your throat. Lewd sounds of your and Aemond’s heavy breathing, along with you gagging on his cock echoed through the chambers. Quiet praises leave your husband’s lips as you pleasure him with your mouth. You reached out to fondle his stones, earning a loud groan from him, and his head tilted to the heavens. Aemond could only stand there and marvel at you, his eye torn as to what to stare upon, your pretty face or your ample behind that hung in the air and squirmed with each of your pleasurable movements. He began to wonder what he had done to have you as his lady wife and pondered the ways he could prove himself worthy of you. 

Aemond felt himself ready to come undone, and he forcefully slipped out his cock from your lips, earning a whine from you. “Had I done something wrong?” You panted as you wiped away the traces of drool on your chin, looking up at Aemond with slight hurt in your eyes. Your husband was quick to shake his head and cup your cheeks, “No— you could never do me wrong, my heart,” He reassured, but you felt yourself pout and wonder as to why he had ceased your actions, if you were being honest, you quite enjoyed sucking his cock. 

“Then wh—“ Your words were left unfinished as you felt Aemond cup your dripping heat. Your eyes widened, and the earlier smirk on your lips had now flown to your husband’s. “Already so wet for me… you are a saint, my heart. Tending to my needs first even though you yourself are in desperate want of release.” Aemond hummed as your eyes rolled back; he effortlessly slipped two digits into your dripping core. You mewled out his name, squealing as he curled the digits and as his thumb fervently rubbed your sensitive pearl. “I want your cock,” You said distractedly, any form of decorum or chasteness gone as your want for Aemond had made you utterly desperate. 

Aemond let out an amused breath, “Of course you do,” He taunted and smashed his lips unto yours. You clawed at his toned arm as you felt your release bubbling, but before you could finally feel the climax you sought, Aemond parted your lips and ceased the pleasure of his fingers. You whined, glaring at your husband, who only stared down at you in amusement as he brought his fingers to his lips and licked off your essence. “Patience, my heart. All that you want shall come in due time,” He whispered his oath, and you huffed as he walked away, leaving you to wonder what had gotten into his mind. 

You lay on the bed as your husband went to one corner of your chambers. Your legs were spread, and your cunt was pulsating in need. You could not help yourself as your fingers slipped along the wet folds, holding back your moans as you touched yourself because you could not wait for your husband to give you your release. Aemond stilled as he heard your once still breathing hitch and the distant and quiet sound of your wetness. He turned to the bed and saw as your back was arched, and your fingers disappeared to pleasure your cunt. 

He took large strides only to witness you on the verge of an orgasm that he had denied you of. You groaned as Aemond took hold of your wrist, your second time being denied your release. “You’re being cruel, husband,” You whined as you stared up at your husband, a wicked glint in his eye. “Please, Aemond… I need you,” You breathed out, and all he did was hum. That was then you realized he held something in his other hand. You sat up, skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat. Aemond moved his lips to pepper kisses on the side of your neck, bitting to leave his mark as a reminder as to who you belonged to. 

“Open it,” Aemond murmured against your skin as he placed a velvet box into your hands. You frowned as he continued on to pepper kisses on your neck and down the swell of your breasts, ripping off the thin sheet you had worn. You did as he told and felt a gasp escape your lips as you saw what was inside and as his fingers pinched the bud of your tit. “W—What is this for?” You said mind befuddled as you did not know where to focus, your husband’s gift or his pleasure. “It is for you, of course.” He said plainly, took the ruby tiara into his hands, and moved to place it atop your head. Aemond grew further with need at the sight of you flushed and naked; the only thing you had on was the tiara he had commissioned for you. 

You stared up at your husband in wonder, “I— It’s lovely… thank you, but my love, I am in no position to warrant a tiara— it is rather inappropriate, do you not think?” You asked and tried your best to focus as Aemond fondled your breasts. Aemond placed open kisses onto the side of your breasts, trying to form his words. “Aemond,” You called and Feld his face to look you in the eye. You delicately took off his eye patch as his lips pursed. “What is this for?” You asked once again. 

“Do you wish to be queen?” He instead asked you, and you were rendered speechless. “Do not deny it, my heart… You were born and bred with the purpose of being queen of the seven kingdoms.” He sighed, and you tried to find your words. “Even now, you bear the duties of a Queen that Helaena cannot tend to,” He added, as you were always by his sister’s side, aiding her with her duties until she all together left the role up to you. You let out a heavy breath. “I… Sometimes I do— seeing that was my whole purpose, why I was taken out of my parents’ care and instead raised here to do what was expected of me.” You admitted and felt your heart pit as Aemond avoided your gaze. “But I’d rather have married you than be queen.” You quickly added. 

“I may have wanted the title, Aemond… but I want you more. I am perfectly content with just being your wife,” You reassured, but something in Aemond burned in anger. Anger at the gods as to why he was born the second son— anger at himself as to why he had to seek out Aegon instead of just letting him escape. You sighed as you rested your forehead against Aemond’s, “Do you believe me?” You questioned and waited for his reply. Aemond bit his tongue not completely believing that you were perfectly content with your station because even he was not contented. He knew envy was a lesser emotion that he must not succumb to, but it was inevitable, especially as he bore witness to how his brother squandered off the most coveted station in the kingdom. He gave a nod and connected your lips, deciding to lay the matter to rest for the moment. 

You sighed and steadied yourself as he hoisted you on his lap, moans leaving your lips as you sank down on his cock. Aemond’s breathing labored as he felt your tight cunt around his length and as your nails left traces along his back. “Oh… gods, Aemond—“ You cried as you rocked your hips, the tip of his cock hitting the perfect spot that made your back arch and your eyes rolled back in utter pleasure. Your moans filled his ears, and Aemond could only hum with satisfaction. “You sound like such a whore, little wife,” he muttered as he reached downwards to trace circles on your nubbin. You could only whine louder, too focused as you bounced on his cock and sought out your high. “Such a vision you are… bouncing on my cock and moaning out my name with a tiara on your pretty head.” 

Aemond’s other hand harshly gripped your tit as he was overwhelmed by the feel of you. “So perfect you are,” He praised, and you smirked at him through the haze of pleasure, your cunt clenching further as you had always loved when he would compliment you. “Such a perfect wife— you would have been wasted on my squandering brother.” He gritted and groaned as you clenched around him tightly and as you nodded your head in agreement. “I was meant to be yours, Aemond,” You breathed as you felt your skin alight with your nearing climax. “You’re mine… all mine.” He groaned as you came undone, your loud moans spurring his own release. “All yours,” You swore and watched as his face contorted in pleasure. 

You sighed in contentment as you lay on Aemond’s chest and as he ran his hands through your hair. “I must leave,” He suddenly cut the silence. “I must meet with Cole,” You pursed your lips. “I know.” You said, trying not to let the tone of bitterness and concern be heard. Aemond furrowed his brows as he looked down upon you. You raised your gaze to meet his, “I know you, Aemond. I know you better than I know the back of my hand— did you really think I would not figure out that you had plotted secretly with Ser Criston?” You questioned, and Aemond sighed, his heart warming further for you as you uttered such words. 

You sat upright to gain a better view of your husband, Aemond already feeling cold, as you removed yourself from his chest. “Be cautious, my love— do not be so reliant on Vhagar. Swear that you will return to me unscathed.” You implored, and Aemond leaned forward to capture your lips. When your lips parted, whatever tenderness you had was hidden behind your serious and threatening expression, urging your husband to be cautious and vigilant. “You will not make me a widow at only nine and ten, Aemond.” You said, voice overly serious and gaze scorching, but your husband still had the gall to laugh. “I wouldn’t dare to, my heart.” He said and captured your lips once more to seal his oath that he would return to you unharmed. 

The whispers of vipers were deafening. ‘The king was slain,’ they would say. And murmurs had spread that the fall of the king was not caused by the Queen Who Never Was but rather by the One-Eyed Prince. You had stewed in silence as you could not possibly fathom what had happened. The only thing that had kept you sane was a single letter that came from your husband stating that he was well and would fly back and return to you in a day or two. 

You stood in the gardens alone as you pondered upon the whispers spreading around the keep when you felt strong hands wrap around your frame and lips pressing kisses upon your neck. Your tense frame momentarily turned lax at the touch of your husband. “I have missed you, my heart,” He said softly and tried to capture your lips— for him, a week was far too long not to be in your presence. Suspicion rose in you as you heard elation in his voice— elation that was rarely present in him. You turned and saw satisfaction glinting in Aemond’s eye. “What has happened?” You questioned, a sickening feeling in your stomach as your intuition told you that there was something afoot. 

Aemond frowned at the seriousness on your face. “We had won the battle— we had effectively cut off Dragonstone by land, my plan proven effective.” He said, dipping down to try and capture your lips, but you backed away, your movements sending a tinge to Aemond’s heart. “What has happened to Aegon?” You whispered and saw how quickly the satisfaction in your husband’s eye disappeared. “The king was inexperienced in battle— he fought against the qualms of his council, and now he reaps the consequences.” You shook your head as you studied each expression of your husband. “Who had caused his injuries? They are whispering that it was not made by Rhaenys but rather by his own brother… tell me the truth of it, Aemond.” 

Your husband sighed, stirring you to the side, away from prying eyes and ears. “It was an unfortunate incident… but it was a necessary one. The end justifies the means, my heart. You must know this.” He whispered, hoping to see understanding in your eyes, but he could only see horror. Your mind spun at the words your husband said; you felt bile rising to your throat because, within a blink of an eye, you scarcely recognized the man before you— the man you had spent your whole life with, unrecognisable. Aemond felt his heart sink as you shook your head and removed his hold on you, hastily running away from him.  

He knew what he had done was cruel— treasonous, but it was for the greater good. He could not watch idly as his brother commanded the throne even though he was unfit to rule. He could not stand to watch as Aegon squandered away his birthright and made their cause’s claim weak. It was a last resort that he had to succumb to— a last resort to save their faction and to prove himself worthy of you. Your words haunted him; the way you admitted that a part of you wished to be queen and the image of you wearing a tiara of rubies burned into his mind. He had to make it a reality. He needed to be king and have you by his side as his queen.  

You avoided your husband the following days, unable to comprehend what he had somehow become. You had always known he had great ambitions—you would lie if you said that you had not encouraged his, for you as well had your own—but you never meant for it to come to this. You never thought of the possibility that Aemond would kill for the throne. For revenge, yes, but certainly not for his own brother’s station. 

It was the day of Ser Criston’s return when you finally revealed yourself to Aemond. Standing by his side along with his mother as you three peered down on the few soldiers returning from battle, along with a cart that housed the fallen king who was clinging to life. You stared head-on as you felt the questioning and almost spiteful stare of the Queen Mother towards your husband. Not an ounce of remorse was shown by Aemond as he proudly wore the Valyrian steel dagger. 

The queen walked off, ready to meet her firstborn son, and you moved to follow, but your husband took hold of your upper arm and forced you to look upon him. “How long will you ignore me, little wife?” He hummed, growing impatient with each day of your ignorance of him. You stayed quiet, unable to meet his gaze. It was torture for you as well— you had missed your husband greatly, but the guilt you felt by his actions, which you knew were partly because of you, was greater. You long tried to hide your disappointment as you were not made queen; you thought it cruel that they had taken you away from the arms of your mother moments after your birth just to be raised in the keep and groomed to be the perfect and dotting wife of a king and take it all away with just one notion. 

All those years of effort and sacrifices were wasted. But you did not dwell on it further as they presented Aemond to be your husband instead. You knew he believed you and your family see him as a consolation prize— and for your house, he was, but for you, you would gladly trade away all the gold in your house’s coffers and the crown for Aemond. You had loved him ever since you two were children; you were intended for Aegon, but your heart had always longed for his younger brother. It was a shame that he could not see it until now. 

It was flattering that he tried to prove himself to you— that he says he does not deserve you, but you could never agree to such sentiments because you knew in yourself that you were meant to be his. It pains you that whatever you say, whatever you do to reassure him that you are happy and content in his arms, even without the prestige of titles, he still does not believe you. 

Aemond felt his heart twist further as you shook your head and walked off. He followed you quietly as you two ventured to the chambers of the king to bear witness to the price of ambition. You could not will yourself to walk in; the distant sight of Aegon filled with burns, clinging to life, along with his death rattle breathing, was enough for you to flee away. Aemond watched as you stumbled through the halls, unable to bear the sight of what he had done. It was only then did Aemond felt guilt. Not guilt for what he had done to his brother but guilt as he saw your reaction— it was only then did he realized that the weight of his actions would affect his lady-wife as well. 

It was sundown when your uncle sought you out. Telling you what had transpired in the small council and how Aemond was named Prince Regent. He as well questioned you as to what you knew about the battle in Rook’s Rest and if your husband had confided in you any secrets, as all who had returned from the battlefield kept a tight lip. You said not a word. Your loyalty to your husband has proven to be greater than your guilt for Aegon’s state. 

“Greatly unfortunate as the events were… I must say that the council and I are relieved that your husband shall see to the concerns of the Realm.” Your uncle muttered, and you sat stiffly in your seat. “Really?” You asked in a small voice. “King Aegon might be the firstborn, but all are aware that Aemond has the tact to rule. Let us pray that he would lead our side to victory— his brother certainly cannot.” He sighed as he stood, kissing your cheek as he exited your private chambers, leaving you to ponder on his words. 

A storm came at night, and you could not find rest as your husband was not by your side. The rain and thunder always made you uneasy, and at times like these, you greatly relied on Aemond for comfort. You walked the path to your marital chambers and peeked inside, only to see your husband was absent. You walked along the cold halls of the keep, searching for Aemond in his usual spots, but to no avail. Your feet carried you to the great hall, and there you found him, staring upon the iron throne. You bit your lip as you studied him, staring at the prize of his efforts. 

Aemond felt a presence join him, and he turned his gaze and was met with you. “Was it worth the price?” You questioned, a steely look on his face as he thought over your words. You stood still as your husband took slow strides towards you. “If it proves me worthy of you, then it does.” You let out a breath as he said the words. “Aemond… how many times must I repeat myself— you do not need to prove yourself to me. I— I love you unconditionally. I do not need the throne or a crown… can you still not see that all I want is you?” 

Aemond cupped your cheek, and you leaned into his touch. “What’s done is done. We need not dwell on this matter, my heart. What is important is that we got what we wanted— we finally have what we deserve.” He whispered, lips flying towards yours. You felt weak as your lips entangled with your husband’s. “This… this is not right.” You whispered as his kisses trailed down to your neck and to the valley of your breasts, his fingers slipping off the shift you wore, leaving you standing bare in the middle of the throne room. “What is not right is that our efforts and potential are wasted as those who are unfit for the title, rule. We were made for the throne, my heart… stop resisting it; you know it is the truth.” 

You breathed heavily as you watched your husband fall to his knees, and his lips kissed your cunny. “Admit what you want, my heart.” His voice muffled against your skin, your hands moving to grip his hair and steady yourself as his tongue drew circles upon your cunt. You feel him grip your thighs, urging you to speak. “You… I want you.” You cried, desperately writhing your cunt against his face. “And?” He questioned, and you tilted your head back, your climax quick to come as your body ached for your husband’s touch. “To be queen… I want you and be queen,” You admitted with a gasp as you felt his tongue enter your dripping core. Aemond smirked against your cunt; his body fueled with need as he tasted your essence. When you came undone, he greedily licked and lapped any remnants of your release, not at all conscious that you two may be caught in such compromising situations. 

You watched through the haze of your release as your husband stood and undid his trousers. Your gaze followed him as he stood behind you and slipped in his length; your loud, surprised moan echoed through the empty hall and was accompanied by the clap of thunder. You cried as Aemond mercilessly pounded into your cunt, your dazed gazes planted on the throne. You gasped for air as Aemond wrapped his calloused hand around your throat and urged you to rest your weight on his leather-covered chest; all the while, his thrusts were relentless. “Are you to come? Are you to come before the throne, my wife?” He taunted in your ear, biting the lobe, and you could only cry in pleasure, your body arching and your hips meeting each of his thrusts. “Yes… yes!” You cried as his other hand returned to its usual torment and drew circles upon your cunt. 

You threw your head back upon Aemond’s shoulders as you were met with your second release. With a few more thrusts, you feel him come undone, his seed filling your cunt, and he could only hope that it would finally take, for he surely needed heirs. Aemond turned your head to face his and kissed your lips, finally feeling a speck of calm in his raging being, for he knew he had secured the station that you both deserved. 

As you two tried to relish in the calm brought by your climaxes, outside the great hall, the castle was in an uproar as the king drew in his last breath. Men searching for the prince regent to inform him of the dire news. They scoured every corner of the castle and soon found their new king seated on the iron throne with his queen bouncing on his cock, Aemond fucking her in their rightful place.

Show Me Your World - (Edge of Desire Special Chapter)

summary | Glimpses of your ever blossoming marriage with Aemond, through the eyes of people around you.

pairing | aemond targaryen x niece!reader

tags | teeth rotting fluff! ooc aemond, mentions of oral (f), ooc criston lol, alicole tease idc sue me, third pov (?), pure marital bliss

song rec | My Kind of Woman - Mac Demarco

wordcount | 3.8k

note | surprise! this is my lil thank you gift for 2k hehe this isn't necessarily a pt 2, but Edge of Desire has received soo much love and i want to try and give even just a little bit back!

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

There was no doubt that the marriage of princess Rhaenyra’s only daughter to the king’s second son caused much worry from the court. The strife between the Hightowers and the Targaryens was no secret, festering into a nasty, outward conflict that ended in a boy maimed, and a family divided by sea. Viserys the Peaceful, ever faithful to his name, sought to mend this rift. 

In the moons following their marriage, it was plain to see the princess and the one-eyed prince rarely agreed with each other. A womb bearing no fruit, eyes rarely meeting, and twin frowns often decorating their features. The concerns aptly only grew. But then, something had shifted in the air.

The princess grew to be exuberant, practically glowing as her belly swelled with child. There was rarely a moment the prince was not found by her side, save for when he was training in the Keep’s yard, and even then, his ladywife was sure to be found on the castle’s balcony with a pleased smile on her face. Whispers of concern soon turned into that of courtly gossip, nobles and staff alike most eager to discover the secret in the couple’s newfound bliss. Many strained their neck to catch a glimpse of the two royals at court, keeping a close eye to notice any indication of a display of affection, though none of them ever did. The prince stood as stoic as ever, while you took your place beside him, hands clasped over your growing bump. Save for the communicative looks you exchanged now and then, the signs of a budding romance between the two of you were sparse. 

It was rather odd. Such whispers from the servants would make it seem that the prince had somehow taken on a persona straight from their mother’s tales about love, like a dashing knight head over heels for his princess, but none of them ever caught such a glimpse. All except for one. 

Sera was no significant person among the residents of the Red Keep. She was a servant, tasked with changing linens, emptying chamber pots, and seeing that the more valued inhabitants of the castle were satisfied. Any ounce of value in her low rank only came when she was made handmaiden to the princess. Stepping up to her new position, she would admit that she was quite curious. What she heard about your marriage piqued her interest, even more so when she began to step into the space that separated the royals from the lowborns. 

In your private marital chambers, the whispers began to take form, proving themselves to be true. It became customary for her to hear the rhythmic thump, thump, thump coming from your bedchamber while she set up your morning meals in the solar. High-pitched moans would penetrate through the red brick, bringing about a hot flush in the young woman’s cheeks as she hastened to lay down the cutlery before scurrying off. Sera remained invisible, merely a shadow that passed through your life, invisible hands that aided in your day. She knew her place, especially when prince Aemond was in the room while she assisted the princess. 

Once the copper tub was filled for your bath, she must make her leave in haste with one flick of the prince’s wrist.

When your husband started to approach your seated form upon the vanity as you readied for the day, Sera knew better and would step away so the one-eyed prince may inhabit your space, no matter the intricacy of the braids she was twisting your hair into. Averting her eyes, the servant could only listen to your dreamy sighs as your husband peppered kisses onto every bit of skin his lips could find.

Did it make her work lighter? Perhaps. It helped to serve two royals who wanted little but each other, who were never cruel or harsh with their tongue. It was odd to say such sentiments for what the court knew as the cold, rigid one-eyed prince, but marriage had changed much of him.

He was always handsome, despite the scar and the menacing glint in his good eye. The fearful aura he exuded in his stride made any good woman weak in the knees, coupled with that sleek, soft hair the shade of moonlight, and his lithe, tall form. Prince Aemond was far more fancied by the young maidens that served as the keep’s staff, Sera included. 

It was a particularly beautiful morn when she realized this. The spring breeze brought about a lightness through the castle, while the early morning sun beamed with hope for warmth after winter’s end. Sera made her way through Maegor’s Holdfast, her feet taking a mind of its own as it led her to your chambers. She had been at your service for a few moons at this point, a routine suitably established with time and experience. 

As she was granted entry by the White Cloak at your door, she made quick work to draw every curtain open, before making her way to the bedchamber. You must be awakened soon, and with a light knock, Sera was answered with a sleepy hum that indicated your rise.

However, such disruptions to one’s routine should always be expected. When she turned the doorknob with a soft greeting on her lips, Sera was taken aback by the sight that met her. You were, indeed, freshly awake, eyes half-lidded and hair aptly messed from the sheets, but with the addition of your husband’s kneeling form in between your thighs. His silver hair was loose, draped over his sculpted back as you gripped them in between your fingers. Neither of you seemed to notice the intruder, clearly lost in the dizzy haze of your pleasure as your hips continued to cant against Aemond’s face. It was her stunned gasp that made Sera’s presence known. For the first time, she had gotten too close, had touched the bubble that encased the couple in their marital bliss, and now it had burst. 

Both royals snapped their heads towards the door, but it was prince Aemond that made her heart beat erratically in her chest. He was without his eyepatch, nor his clean updo that kept his mane out of his face, nor a tunic or any clothing for that matter. The dazzling sapphire glinted in the morning sun, drawing her into its tantalizing spell. It was a good thing her eyes stayed there, never drifting downward to the other treasure in between his legs for the scowl on Aemond’s face made his displeasure known.

“Out,” was all he said, sending poor Sera scurrying out of the room. You would apologize to her later in the day, giving her clammy hand a soft squeeze with nothing but gentleness in your face. 

“Whatever happened to you?” Elara had asked her upon her return to the servant’s wing. The younger girl’s brows furrowed in confusion and slight worry at the beet-red flush on Sera’s face. Unlike her acquaintance, Elara’s experience with serving prince Aegon was nothing short of harrowing, and such a reaction on Sera was enough to have her assuming the worst. “Were you harmed?”

“No, no! Hells, I–” Sera stammered. When did she begin to perspire so much? Her nape was damp with flustered sweat from the aftermath of such embarrassment. Detailing the moments of her eventful morning was a struggle, even more so when Elara burst out giggling in her face. Sera slapped her hands over her face, groaning. “The prince wasn’t supposed to be there so late. He would be off to the yard with Ser Cole at this hour!”

The young blonde shook her head in amusement, hands still busy with folding linens. “Gods, the princess is a lucky one, isn’t she? Prince Aemond seems like a total dreamboat compared to his brother.” She leaned closer to Sera, whispering. “Did you see his—?” 

“His what?” she replied, not fully understanding the cryptic tilt of her head and the smirk on her face.

“Well, you know… his High Tower!”

Both girls erupted into a fit of laughter, though old Hilda wasn’t too happy with their slacking off. 

The second time Sera had found herself bestowed another close glimpse of the couple was during the hour of the owl. You were only a few days away from term, and the maester had you isolated for the rites of seclusion prior to your labors. Aemond, in an isolated state of his own, was forbidden to visit you even in daylight for propriety’s sake. Your marital chambers never felt so empty, with your absence ridding it of any life that came with your mere presence.

It was a miserable affair, both for you and your husband. Sera had seen how the separation was affecting her princess. You were lonely, weary from the aches of your belly, and losing your appetite from the desolate state of your chambers. It had her worried, even more so when word of your husband’s anxious state reached her ears. She ought to do something, but she had little power over the order of the maesters, even more so when it was approved by the queen herself. 

Perhaps it was by fate when one night, she… forgot to close the door firmly behind her when she was granted her leave for the evening. It granted the prince entry, after many nights of pacing through the halls for any chance to slip into his wife’s chambers without being detected. She stayed in the shadows of an alcove, counting the minutes until she heard the familiar gait of the one-eyed prince taking the path she had just passed. 

She couldn’t help herself. With featherlight steps, Sera tiptoed back to your door, peeking through the slight crack left ajar. What she saw almost had her thinking it was a repeat of that one morning, but it was something far more intimate.

There he was, the one-eyed prince Aemond, kneeling before your seated form like a devotee. His face was nuzzled into your lap, his arms wrapped around the swollen bump that housed your offspring. Your hands rubbed down his back soothingly, while your cheeks glistened under the dim light of your chambers. Tears of happiness, Sera realized. Like always, your husband peppered kisses all over— your hands, your belly, even on the swell of your bosom that threatened to spill from your garments.

It was nothing debauched, nor depraved, but filled with far more passion than she had ever seen in her young life. She had never seen two souls so profoundly intertwined, deep into the throes of your love in a way that seemed unfathomable in this cruel life. It was no fairytale, but very much real. 

He looked unrecognizable like this, with a face so peaceful and a touch so gentle. His thin lips moved with words inaudible to Sera’s ears, but the way your face glowed brighter than it had been for these past days made the young girl’s chest swell with a yearning for something of her own. She could only pray that her princess would only find happiness in her marriage, and that the gods would grant herself a love that could be half as full as yours.

Prince Aemond was no man of big gestures. He was not one to scream his love from the rooftops, nor wear his heart on his sleeve, but with his forehead pressed into your bump, Sera learned that whispers of a true love were far greater than proclamations of folly.

Criston Cole did not believe in love. It was a fool’s wish. The only time he had gotten close to dabbling into the idea of it had left him broken, honor sullied for a princess who returned little of what he had given. Rhaenyra was a thorn in his past, and her bastards were a blatant reminder of his divulgence into her trap. Hence, his apprehension upon the news of the marriage of the heir’s only daughter to Alicent’s thirdborn. 

What was he to say? To do? Nothing. Criston had overstepped his bounds once and it had ended with his white cloak dirtied and his sanity balanced on the tip of his sword. This match was doomed to fail, he had no doubt of it, but he kept his mouth shut. The Dornishman was quite famed for his good swordsmanship, and his humble beginnings, but especially more so of his handsome looks. Olive skin, luscious dark locks, and wide brown orbs that glimmered like topaz under the southern sun. Those eyes held less composure than the rest of his face. They were a window of his thoughts, and they spoke of the words his tongue held back. Cole’s contempt for Rhaenyra’s blood was ever evident in the sharp gaze he threw your way. You were of your mother’s sin, yet you walked in these halls as if though you were anything but a blaring reminder of it. 

Criston knew of Aemond’s nature. He had spent many hours honing the young prince’s skills with a sword, had taken him and his mother to the Sept for their prayers. Cole had even held him while he writhed in pain when the maester took out the stitches of his slashed eye. The second prince shared his disdain for Rhaenyra and her brood, perhaps even more so than the knight himself. And so, he was well aware that Aemond found no positives in his marriage. 

For a while, the knight believed the younger to share such sentiments, but the stories of your blossoming marriage had filtered through the Keep, inevitably reaching the ears of the White Sword Tower. His response was nothing but a scoff. Criston did not consider himself a believer of such change, but when he began to see it for himself, his views faltered. 

Namedays of the royal family were always celebrated with grandeur and splendor. Helaena’s twins had just turned five, and the court had taken to the Kingswood for the royal hunt. It was a splendid affair, the young babes garnering much attention from the guests. Aegon, surprisingly enough, was enthusiastically present for his children. The elder held much love for his children, and it made for an endearing sight to see. This had lightened the attention on prince Aemond and his ladywife, who were bound to be parents of their own.

The news of your pregnancy had garnered much praise and well wishes from the court, and before you even began to grow round with child, all eyes were constantly on you and Aemond. Though that night, you had been granted reprieve. 

Cole stood beside the queen Alicent as she sat, ever faithfully upholding his duty. It was customary for him to scan the room constantly, keeping himself aware of any potential threat to his queen. There he found prince Aemond and his ladywife, secluded in their own little corner of the royal tent.

You had whispered something into Aemond’s ear with a cherubic smile, before covering your mouth with a ringed hand as giggles spilled from your lips. The knight fought back the urge to roll his dark, chocolate orbs at such a display, knowing the second prince well enough that such behavior did not bode well with him. 

Yet, he found himself mistaken. In the dim amber glow of the royal pavilion, it was easy to overlook the way Aemond’s silver tresses swayed as his head bowed followed by the most peculiar sight. The leather of his doublet moved up and down as his shoulders shook. Criston may have been granted only the sight of the prince’s back, but it was plain enough to see.

He was laughing. 

In all his years serving the Hightowers, the most he had ever seen from Aemond was a smirk, or a dark chuckle when he bested his mentor while they trained. Cole believed his eyes to be deceiving him, but the pleased look on your face and the bubbling laughter that echoed through the night was testament enough that you had the power to loosen the prince’s otherwise rigid grip on his composure. You were stuck to his side, heads huddled together as you whispered about gods know what. It might have been the wine or the warmth exuded by the torches littered about, but your cheeks were flushed like a rose. 

Beyond his conscience, the sight had pulled a smile of his own. Something akin to elation sweltered in the knight’s chest. It pleased him to see the prince so relaxed, free from the tension he always carried. Criston would have you to thank for it. 

Beside him, Alicent was looking at him as though he had grown a second head. Her sworn shield seldom found things that amused him, and even then, it was rather disturbing to her. “What amuses you, good ser?” she asked, taking Criston by surprise. His cheeks quickly dropped to his usual formal state, throat clearing to regain his composure. The queen, ever observant followed where his eyes had flickered to. Across from where she sat, her second son held an arm around his wife’s waist, whispering into each other’s ear while sharing a cup of wine. Wide smiles mirrored each other, their gazes focused on no one else but them. The sight made the queen’s cheeks dimple into a small smile, a warmth in her motherly heart filling her with hope. It had been many years ago when Alicent deemed herself cursed by the gods, given a fate so cruel. It had shaken her faith, even more so when it appeared to have trickled down to her children. Aemond had the worst of it— a dragon egg turned to stone, an eye cruelly taken, and a ghost of a father. She feared for what may become of him, with his wrath and fury that seemed to guide his aspirations. Yet now, as she watched her favored son let his wife take his cheek into her hand so publicly, Alicent prayed that the tides were turning for him. Perhaps you might change his fate. Perhaps he might be spared yet. “He’s been quite happy as of late,” Alicent mentioned, turning to Criston. A look filled with mirth equaled that of the Dornishman before her, who nodded in agreement.

“He has, my queen. It pleases me greatly to see the prince so content. The princess brings out the best in him,” Cole replied. They shared smiles of their own, and the knight felt emboldened by the glee they shared. He shuffled ever so closely to her seat, the warmth exuding from her pale flesh emanating through the cold steel of his armor. As they both watched you take Aemond’s hand to lead him out of the pavilion, Criston willed himself to keep his composure as Alicent ever so subtly leaned against his arm.

Criston was present in much of what happens in the royal family. He was there for every nameday, every birth, and every milestone that Alicent’s children had. Albeit, he was in the background, but he was there. It did not change when they became parents themselves, with Helaena and Aegon having three babes, while Aemond and his ladywife were now about to have a child of their own.

Aemond had been an anxious mess all morning. Your labors had begun just as dawn broke, and pursued well through noon. Queen Alicent made her way to your chambers to check on your well-being as soon as the council dispersed, with Cole naturally in tow. Your husband had to be pushed back by several knights as the grand maester forbade him to enter the birthing chamber, fighting to be by your side. Your wails and cries had him distressed, even more so when he could clearly hear you call for him. It was only when his mother arrived did Aemond settle, uneasily staying in the common room as she was permitted to see you in his stead.  “This is her fight, Aemond. You must let them do their work,” Alicent said, planting a soothing kiss on her son’s cheek before entering the birthing chamber. 

His mother’s presence did little to quench his worries, and the one-eyed prince had settled to lean on the windowsill, fists clenched on the stone as his head bowed. From his place by the door, Cole approached him with quiet steps, settling beside his tense form. “She will be alright,” he said. “The princess is strong. A dragon in her own right.” He was responded by only a grunt from the younger, who kept his good eye closed as he steadied his breathing.

It was quiet between the two, just as it always was with Aemond. The only sound in the room was your outcries of pain that only seemed to grow louder by the minute. With a heavy sigh, Aemond spoke. “What did she thank you for?”

“My prince?” Criston asked, confused.

“My wife. When she first arrived from Dragonstone, I heard her whisper her thanks to you, and her apology for having done so too late. What did she have to thank you for?”

Cole huffed a small chuckle at the memory. It was many, many years ago when you were merely a girl. You used to play with Helaena in the gardens so often, especially during the spring afternoons when the butterflies danced above the bushels of flowers. Alicent would find time to watch over the young princesses, with her sworn shield following their tail through the royal gardens. One afternoon, both girls had been so enthusiastic with the amount of colorful butterflies that flittered about. Helaena had her eyes set on a pretty blue one, crossing the wooden footbridge over the small pond in the middle of the greenery. 

The pair had made haste to follow the girls, but you had come running back, with a quivering frown. You had clutched onto Criston’s cloak, refusing to cross over the small, wooden bridge. It was littered with frogs from the pond. The tiny green things gave you a fright, and Criston had carried you in his arms over to where Helaena played in the grass. Your excitement had quickly been restored once your fear was gone, short legs quickly wriggling out of the knight’s grip to rejoin your aunt. A decade later, you voiced your regrets over your rudeness and thanked Criston for his help on that day.

“It was for something so little that did not require such importance, but the princess was gracious to remember so,” Cole smiled. Aemond’s lips had lifted into a smile of his own at the thought of you, slim cheeks dimpling. 

“She is full of nothing but kindness,” the prince said fondly, straightening his posture with more ease. “I am rather undeserving of it.” Aemond’s response made Cole frown, the elder knight clasping the prince’s shoulder in a fatherly squeeze. 

“The gods have deemed you most deserving of it, Aemond. You were fated for each other. I have witnessed no other pair to have been more well suited in this lifetime, believe me.” Such words were so foreign to leave Cole’s lips, but they held no lie. A shrill cry had then pierced through the air, and Alicent had opened the door with a wide smile on her face. ‘Tis a girl! was her exclaim, and Aemond had rushed off from Criston’s side to see his wife. 

Pleased, the knight stayed in his place, off to the side as the royals celebrated yet a new beginning in their lives. Criston may not believe in love, nor has he felt it, but he has seen it. 

It could be quite beautiful, he realized. 

A trio's tryst

Vax'ildan x female reader x Percy | NSFW, 18+

Words: 4k

Content: threesome, pegging, oral sex, slight voyeurism, overstimulation, cum swallowing (Percy does it), unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, finger-fucking, multiple orgasms

A/N: just dropping this here while i'm still on hiatus 🙈 i'm not done with S2 yet, so this is more in-character for S1 Vax and Percy. also this is crossposted to AO3 if that tickles your fancy. enjoy 😌

You’re not sure how it came to this. In your foggy recollection, you believe it was a stupid little bet that started it all. But you’re not going to complain about the silver practically stolen from you due to your quick loss. Not when defeat means the slick slide of your strap-on inside Vax, and the heavy weight of Percy’s leer as he sits not too far away.

The inn Vox Machina chose for the night is not much better than the usual run-down, shithole joints the party has previously stayed at. With paper-thin walls and the reek of booze permeating nearly every hallway and room, it’s not the sexiest spot for a tryst like the one you’re having now. But even Percy doesn’t seem to mind the uncomfortable setting tonight. And Vax certainly has no complaints.

The half-elf’s tangled brown locks frame his head like a halo on the bed—the perfect complement to the way he holds your gaze, as if he’s unworthy of being touched by a deity like you. His face scrunches in pleasure, trying his hardest not to come undone already. Another steady thrust, and those breathy gasps of his that you adore so much start to grow in volume.

A smug chuckle snaps your attention to the stool on your left. The dim light of the room only illuminates the bed and one other wall. You only catch the glint of Percy’s glasses for a split second before his entire form disappears back into the shadows.

“Any louder, and the whole damn inn will know what we’re up to,” he says. Even with his face hidden from you, it’s clear Percy’s teasing words are only directed at you. He doesn’t bother to address Vax right now because he isn’t the one calling the shots tonight. “I suggest you keep him quiet, dear.” 

Faintly, Vax grumbles a curse beneath his breath, as if the gunslinger’s presence annoys him. But his frustration is only a charade. You all know how Vax occasionally enjoys the special brand of humiliation only Percy can dole out in his signature methodical fashion.

Percy didn’t mention how you should go about keeping Vax silent, but your mind already conjures various ways to do it. With a sly grin, you press one hand to Vax’s cheek, your thumb briefly brushing across his bottom lip.

“Open your mouth,” you whisper. He wastes no time in complying, his pupils somehow growing even larger as two of your fingers slide inside his mouth. “Now suck,” you demand.

Satisfaction takes root deep in your belly while Vax groans around your wet digits. With his immodest noises muffled now, your ears become more attuned to the sharp slap of skin on skin and the obscene slippery sound of Vax’s tight hole taking you deeper.

Percy’s clothes rustle nearby as he readjusts on the stool. You almost miss the soft grunt accompanied by a gruff “fuck” muttered from your left, but your senses feel hyper-aware now. Tingles run along your body with each measured thrust you make and the way Vax’s lean muscles begin to tense beneath you.

You’re getting tired—still slightly unaccustomed to the strength and stamina it takes to thrust a fake cock for this long. You slip your fingers from Vax’s mouth to make a determined path down his straining body. Sweeping past the hard planes of his chest, and then his stomach and hips, your fingers land along the base of his cock. Despite Percy’s previous instruction, he seems to revel in the choked cry that escapes Vax’s lips as you wrap your hand around his length.

“De Rolo,” Vax says through clenched teeth, “quit your giggling in the dark and come here.”

His words make both of you laugh, but you’re in silent agreement with Vax. If Percy doesn’t get his ass over to the bed and touch one of you soon, you’ll spend the rest of the night giving him the cold shoulder.

“As you wish, little bird,” Percy replies with a smirk while emerging from the darkness.

His slender frame towers over you from beside the bed, and he presses one hand to your hip, giving you the extra leverage you need to continue thrusting. Your stomach tightens when he wraps the other hand around Vax’s cock, mirroring the way you’re stroking it while his fingers slightly overlap yours in an intimate caress.

Vax rolls his eyes, although it’s hard to tell if it’s in annoyance or maybe from the pleasure coursing through him. “You know I hate when you call me that,” he argues with a less-than-convincing whine.

“Is that right?” Percy’s thumb lightly squeezes the head of Vax’s cock. Your breath hitches at the sight of his finger slowly swiping the precum beading from the tip. “It doesn't look like you hate it that much.”

Vax seems unable to respond, his fingers fisting the bedsheets and sweat starting to glisten across his chest. He writhes beneath you but still tries to meet your thrusts while bucking his hips up into the pair of hands on his length. Seeing him so vulnerable and desperate makes liquid heat pool between your thighs, and you briefly wonder if you could come from the sight of him alone.

Percy steals your attention, releasing your hip to grip the back of your neck and pull you into a bruising kiss. Your breath escapes your lungs in a whoosh, but you’re grateful for the rougher way he handles you. It’s a stark contrast to the way Vax usually worships you. But you know that Percy will only be as rough as you want him to be—and his calculating nature means he always knows exactly where you’ve drawn the line. 

He smiles against your lips when you pull away a little and gasp, trying to chase the breath he stole from your lungs. Between your thrusting and Percy’s wild affection, you’re sure you’ll suffocate before the night is over.

Percy hums in mocking contemplation as he looks back down at Vax. “He’s right on the edge,” he says, far too satisfied with each pathetically loud whine Vax makes as he tries to hold back his orgasm. “Let’s make him come, together.”

You nod, biting down on your lip as you thrust as deep as you can. It takes a decent amount of concentration to find the right combined rhythm of thrusting and stroking Vax’s cock at the same time. But you follow Percy’s lead, allowing him to guide your hand up and down Vax's shaft while you focus on thrusting a bit harder.

In your distracted state, you jolt when you feel Percy’s other hand slide up your body. You’re frankly jealous of how collected he seems right now, whereas you and Vax look like wild animals. But you also feel a fresh wave of arousal at how effortlessly he can affect both of you. Percy’s hand moves to gently massage your breasts. He takes his time to tease each nipple while Vax writhes with the force of his oncoming orgasm.

Without so much as a warning, Vax shudders and moans before spilling onto both pairs of knuckles and his own taut stomach. You mutter a curse under your breath at the sight of his pulsing cock, and you feel hypnotized as you spread a bit of his cum around his cock.

“Shit, Vax,” you say in slight disbelief, your voice breathy from how turned on you are. “You made quite the mess this time.”

A cute blush graces his cheeks in response, enticing a kiss from you before you carefully slide out of him. Rolling over on the bed, you undo the buckles of your strap-on and lazily throw it to the other end of the mattress. You expect the three of you to take a quick breather now, but a soft whimper draws your attention back to the pair of men. Percy hasn’t stopped touching Vax’s aching cock. He continues to stroke him at an even pace, causing Vax to tremble from the sensitivity.

“A-ah, please,” Vax cries out, his fingers gripping Percy’s wrist.

But you know that he secretly loves the overstimulation. That’s why he’s not using his strength to yank Percy’s hand away or scramble out of his reach. Instead, his comically pouty look gets directed at you, and Vax tries again to beg for something he hasn’t decided yet—either for mercy or for more.

“Use your words,” Percy snaps. His low growl sends shivers down your spine, even though the command is not for you. “What do you want, Vax’ildan?”

Vax gulps, closing his eyes and taking a second to collect himself before returning his needy gaze to you. There’s no mistaking who he’s speaking to when he whimpers, “I need more. Please let me taste you, darling.”

Anticipation lights a fire in your chest, and you’re itching to give Vax exactly what he wants. But you glance at Percy first, waiting to see if he’ll agree.

Percy grins at you, and you can see a devilish plan beginning to take shape in his mind. “You heard the man,” he says before giving you a nod of permission.

Eagerly, you crawl to the top of the bed and press a gentle kiss to Vax’s awaiting lips. He groans into your mouth, obviously desperate for the moment when your thighs settle along either side of his head. But as you begin to brace your hands against the headboard, Percy’s tut of disapproval cuts in.

“No, no,” he chides from behind you. “Turn around and face me instead.”

You turn above Vax’s increasingly impatient mouth, being careful not to accidentally kneel on his long hair, and wait to lock eyes with Percy before taking a proper seat. Vax’s slender fingers grip your hips near-painfully, but you feel satisfied knowing he’s looking forward to this as much as you are. Finally, Percy nods in approval, and it takes an insane amount of willpower to descend gently.

It’s ungodly how good Vax is at this. A shudder already racks through you as his tongue glides expertly along your clit. It’s when he gasps against your pussy that you realize why Percy wanted you in this position. Your eyes fly open—you barely even noticed how tight you had shut them seconds ago—and your stomach flips at the sight of Percy’s tongue tracing a leisurely path down Vax’s cock before fully taking him into his mouth.

Percy keeps eye contact with you while reducing Vax to a moaning mess against your cunt. He takes his time teasing and working Vax back up to a second orgasm. Vax, on the other hand, wastes no time devouring you. Even though he seems far too eager to make you unravel, his tongue still moves in measured strokes across your pussy. He knows exactly what pace and amount of pressure you prefer against your throbbing clit. And he relishes in the way your body reacts so easily for him.

“Oh fuck,” you whine, rocking your hips against his mouth with wild abandon. “Just like that…don’t stop, Vax.”

Your pleasure only seems to fuel the desperate whimpers and groans muffled against your cunt. If you hadn’t been in this same position with Vax before, you would have thought he’s only acting this way because of Percy’s skilled tongue. But you know how much Vax savors the taste and feel of you. More than that, he especially loves when you take control and grind down on his face however you like. He enjoys being used by you.

Percy slides his mouth off Vax’s length, using his hand to replace the sensation while he addresses you. “He’s going to come soon,” he says with a cocky grin, “and you’re close too. You better beat him to it.” His tongue and lips return to the tip of Vax’s flushed cock, resuming the unrelenting pace he set before.

Vax is immediately on the same page as Percy. He sets a laser-focus to your clit, sucking it into his mouth while holding your body down firm against him. He's determined to make you come first, and that thought alone causes you to writhe as the pleasure crests within you. Through heavy-lidded eyes, you watch Percy groan around Vax's cock, and it causes a chain reaction of moans and vibrations against each other's skin.

Your nails dig into Vax's chest, and your body shakes as your orgasm finally overtakes you like a tidal wave. It takes barely a second before Vax joins you, overwhelmed with the feeling of your thighs clenching around his head coupled with Percy practically deep-throating him. Vax grips you even tighter, and you almost feel bad that he's unable to see the delicious act of Percy swallowing every drop of cum that Vax gives him. He even makes a show of swiping any stray pearl beads and sucking it off his fingers.

You moan softly, going slightly limp against Vax before gathering your remaining strength to gently roll off him. Lying beside his quivering body, you run your fingers along his chest and snort in amusement when Percy does a few more teasing strokes of Vax's oversensitive cock.

“Oh, gods,” Vax whines. “Take it easy, Percival. I can’t take much more of your cruelty.”

“Alright,” Percy concedes, his voice sounding a little amused. “I'll have mercy on you.” He releases Vax and turns his attention to you, slowly crawling up the bed while pressing kisses all over your skin. He hums in delight before saying, “You both did so well.”

Percy continues caressing your thighs, moving higher to kiss your hips and then the soft swell of your belly. He remains below your chest, leaving ample room for Vax to kiss your neck while skimming feather-light touches across your breasts. They take turns whispering filthy praises to you, saying how beautiful you looked as you rode Vax's face.

They know exactly what they're doing with their honeyed words and reverent touches. Fortunately for them, it's working like a charm. Your body grows hotter under their affection, and soon you ache for so much more.

“Percy, please,” you murmur while lightly tugging on his hair. “Just fuck me already.” The two men chuckle, clearly enjoying how desperate you've become now.

“I guess we've kept her waiting long enough,” Vax tells Percy with a smile.

Percy tilts his head with a grin but stops his teasing kisses that skirt around where you need him most. Finally, he readjusts to kneel back on his heels before palming himself through his pants. You take the opportunity to drag your eyes down his body, appreciating the way he leisurely works to unzip his pants and then pull his throbbing cock out from beneath his boxers.

With how torturously slow he exposed himself, it surprises you how quickly he tugs you closer, gesturing for you to kneel in front of him. He guides your body, pressing your back to his chest so you’re still facing Vax at the head of the bed. The rough texture of his clothes against your naked skin feels a little odd, but you shiver at the thought of Percy still fully dressed and desperate to be inside you.

Your legs are slightly wobbly, still feeling a bit sore in the knees from fucking Vax, but Percy keeps your thighs pushed apart in the perfect position for him to slowly slide into you. The stretch feels amazing, and the two of you sigh in unison once he bottoms out.

You can’t tell if it’s your arousal or your tired body that’s causing you to shake a bit, but Vax immediately notices the way you tremble. He’s still recovering from his previous orgasms, but that doesn’t stop him from sitting up and leaning closer to you, an adorably dazed but concerned look on his face.

“I’ve got you, darling,” Vax whispers. “Just hold onto me.” He pulls your hands to rest on his shoulders, allowing you to use him as leverage while Percy begins to fuck you at an easy pace.

While you get lost in the feeling of Percy’s cock, Vax’s lips trace the curve of your breast before moving to your collarbone and neck. He keeps lavishing your body with kisses, treating you like glass while Percy’s hands grip your hips roughly. When you start rocking your hips back in between thrusts, Percy takes the cue to speed up a bit, pushing himself even deeper as you gasp.

Vax’s fingers tickle your sides, briefly skirting past Percy’s knuckles with a knowing grin before sliding down to your swollen clit. He takes his time to tease you, playing with your clit at a languid pace while Percy sets a steady rhythm that makes your moans grow louder. You’re not sure how much longer you’ll last with these two men determined to make you come as fast and hard as humanly possible. They both know exactly what buttons to press to get the reactions they want from you.

Vax’s teeth latch onto a sensitive spot on your neck, and that somehow pushes you over the edge. You crumple in his arms, crying out from how fierce your second orgasm is. Neither of the men are surprised you came so fast. It was inevitable with the way Vax circled your clit with the same precision as before. What’s really surprising is the way Percy moans your name, his voice strained while he grasps your hips harder.

Vax takes the opportunity to get some payback for Percy’s teasing. “Going to come so soon, Percival?” he taunts.

“Oh, fuck off,” Percy replies through gritted teeth. “You would too if you could feel her right now…”

You can feel your muscles still pulsing around him, and you can’t help but focus your concentration on clamping down just a bit more. You like to watch him suffer just a little bit—and so does Vax, of course.

Percy curses in response before frantically asking, “Where do you want me to–”

“Inside,” you respond quickly. You wrap one of your hands behind you to hold onto his hip, urging him to stay where he is. 

Percy doesn’t hold back any longer. He moans your name while spilling inside you. You gasp into Vax’s mouth as he pulls you into a kiss, allowing you and Percy some time to come down from the intensity of your orgasms. All three of you seem to sigh in post-coital bliss, and Vax helps you off of Percy’s cock before his cum starts dripping too far down your thighs.

They both help you lie down on the bed before Vax collapses beside you. But Percy looks like he’s not nearly done playing his little games. To be fair, you also still feel a little revved up, even after two orgasms. Regardless, that little glint in Percy’s eyes as he crawls back up the bed makes you shiver.

“Why do you look like you’re about to kidnap me, de Rolo?” you joke.

He cracks a smile but doesn’t stop advancing toward you until his face hovers over yours. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and says, “Just give us one more, dear.” It’s less of a command and more of a question. But he knows you’re not going to turn down another orgasm. Although you feel a bit fatigued, you’re greedy for one last round, so you nod your head.

Vax groans dramatically beside you. “Gods, really? The two of you are insatiable,” he teases, earning a sharp nudge of your elbow in his side.

“Don’t act like you aren’t either,” you argue.

“Touché.”

Your responding laugh gets cut off with a gasp while Percy coats his fingers in his remaining cum spilling past your puffy lips. He dips a soaked finger inside your cunt, testing your reactions before giving you a second one when you’re ready. He watches your face closely, mouth twitching in a smirk as his fingers curl at just the right spot.

Your back arches off the bed, and Vax slides a bit closer to gently kiss your body wherever he can reach. Without exchanging any more words with the other man, Vax already knows what to do to enhance the desire spreading throughout your body. He leans his head down to your breasts and sucks a nipple into his mouth. In tandem, one of his hands glides down your body. His fingers tease your clit, occasionally spreading out a bit to allow Percy to flick the needy bud with his tongue.

The two of them work wordlessly with one common goal. They barely need to communicate to reduce your limbs to jelly, and you secretly love how experienced they are with your body language to be able to pull this off so expertly. The only sounds between the two of them are Percy’s whispered praises and Vax’s soft moans muffled by the sloppy kisses he presses all over your tits. When Vax’s eyes meet yours again, you realize your nails are digging into his bicep. But he doesn’t let up, and neither does Percy.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry before you stutter, “I– I’m so close, please…”

Vax is the one to grant you permission this time. His lips curve into a smile against your skin. “Hm, then come for us, darling.”

The two of them continue their song and dance, watching every twitch and jolt of your body with bated breath. Vax’s eyelids flutter with desire, staring at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world. And when you turn your head to Percy, you swear you see a hint of a sadistic grin before he bites down on your inner thigh, determined to leave marks as a reminder of tonight.

There’s no stopping your pleasure as it barrels into you with full force. Your chest heaves while you desperately try to catch your breath—although Percy is doing his damndest to prolong your orgasm just like he did with Vax. His fingers continue curling slowly a few more times, determined to wring every last drop of desire from your exhausted body.

Vax murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine with how the two of them take such care with bringing you down from your high. After Percy finally relents and pulls his fingers from your pussy, he flops down on the other side of your body, opposite from Vax.

Vax’s aftercare is always the best, but with Percy added in the mix, it’s like being pampered royalty. They take turns pressing tender kisses to your heated skin and brushing back the sweat-slicked strands of hair from your face. Percy dutifully pulls out a handkerchief to carefully wipe away the mess along yours and Vax’s lower halves, promising to draw a bath when you’re all ready for it. And Vax lets you play with his hair while he whispers how good you made him feel earlier. Percy takes a moment to check in with Vax too, making sure he didn’t do anything that made either of you uncomfortable.

After a beat of silence, Percy hums in quiet contemplation. “To think Scanlan was technically the reason for tonight…”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you interrupt with a groan. “That little shit fleeced me!” You turn your look of playful annoyance to Vax. “We would have won that damn bet if you didn’t beg me to fuck you.”

“It’s not my fault,” Vax says defensively. Although there’s a smug look on his face that says he isn't sorry at all. “Three days without your touch is a long fucking time.”

“Vax,” you say through gritted teeth, “you barely lasted a few hours, let alone one day.”

He chuckles with a shrug. “At least I lasted longer than the nobleman just did.”

His jab at Percy earns him a light backhanded slap on the chest from the nobleman himself, and you can’t help but giggle at the way they try to play-fight around your body. Regardless of how much these two banter, you know they equally enjoy each other’s presence. And no matter how much hard-earned coin was lost in that annoying bet, you’ll remember to thank Scanlan for his antics this time.

~~~~~~~

thanks for reading! <3 if you enjoyed it, please reblog!

just when i think i cant have more of him... thank lord for amazing writers like you!!! fueling my delulus in the best way ‹3

📂 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭.𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞

I did try to add both genitals here… but I’m used to writing fem reader, so there’s heavy emphasis on AFAB. Barely proof-read…my eyes are sore

𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

📄 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kenji’s gentle side shines through after your first time together. His usual confidence sheds away and is replaced by his anxiousness about whether he has met your expectations. He genuinely cares about you and wants to make sure you're comfortable, worried that he might’ve hurt you even if he was taking it slow with you

His inexperience makes him a little clueless about the nuance of aftercare, and you’ll find him overthinking what he’s supposed to do next. He fumbles a bit when he asks if you need water, a towel, or anything. He’s trying but he doesn’t know the proper steps

You find it endearing how attentive he is and gently reassure him, asking for some water. Immediately he’s on his feet and fetches you a bottle of water. He returns with a look of relief on his face as he hands it to you

The rest of the night, he stays close and is eager to attend to any of your needs, wanting everything to be perfect for you. Later on in the night, he’s a lot calmer and his racing thoughts subside. He might not have all the answers, but he’s willing to learn for you

📄 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭.𝐝𝐨𝐜

One of Kenji’s favourite body parts is his arms, given his athletic build. He loves how easily he can carry you and seeing your surprised reaction when he suddenly scoops you up out of nowhere, or when he carries you to bed

This might sound out of place here, but Kenji really likes his hands. Not only so he could hold your hand or body while being intimate, but he could use his slender fingers in your hole to reach your sweet spot. It’s an ego boost for him when he could drive you up the walls just by curling his long fingers, feeling your slick walls sucking him in

Kenji is particularly fond of your lips, especially if they have a slightly heart-shaped curve. However, he isn’t picky about their appearance— he just loves sucking on the lower lip as he reaches his peak and stuffing you with his load. He also really likes latching his own lips on yours to muffle your moans

📄 𝐂𝐮𝐦.𝐝𝐨𝐜

As much as he loves the feeling of releasing inside of you, he can’t get enough of watching himself spray over your chest or your back when he’s doing it from behind

He’s addicted to watching how far his cumshots could go, despite the mess he has to clean up afterwards. But that won’t stop him from pulling out last minute when he’s in the mood

Judging by his athletic lifestyle and diet, his cum is slightly thick in consistency with a white precipitate (#FEFEFE in colour if we’re gonna be specific) and sweet in taste (healthy).

📄 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

One time during the early stages of your relationship, Kenji would always give you lessons on how to bat the ball — he would always be handsy during these sessions since he was touch starved and he loved to feel your skin

Whenever he would show you how to swing the bat, he would stand behind with his hands over yours as he guides you. However, it quickly dawned on him how close your rear was pressed up against his groin.

Before he could anticipate it, he felt his erection growing under his shorts. Though he didn’t pull himself away, afraid that it’ll raise suspicion. Throughout the whole time, he was trying to conceal himself and keep his cool so he wouldn’t accidentally jab with his hard cock through his pants

After that event, he never spoke about it for a while until you started being more intimate regularly. Now he would shamelessly press his hard-on against you while you were batting the ball. He loves how you would freeze up when you realise what was happening and immediately lose your composure

📄 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

While living in America, Kenji never had any real relationship experiences that lasted long enough for him to actually sleep with his partner. Though he’s not clueless when it comes to the details, given how exposed he was with everything

Even as he rose to more popularity and stardom with his baseball career, and he had the opportunity to have flings with no strings attached, he still refused.

I mentioned before that he is demisexual, so he needs to build an emotional connection with his partner before he’ll take the step further. The emotional connection you share makes the physical intimacy more meaningful for him

First time you do it together will probably be back in the Ultrabase, where there’s more space and privacy for both of you

If it is your first time too, he’ll be the one in control and make sure your needs are met as well as his. He will frequently check in with you to ensure you’re completely comfortable and enjoying the experiences. He values respect and open communication on both ends

If you’ve got more experience, he’ll probably let you talk him through it. He finds it attractive hearing you tell him what to do to please you, and even better when you tell him to sit back and take the lead

📄 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Missionary: Kenji loves any position where he could see your face, but he likes the traditional stuff more so. This position is pretty simple but still versatile. He loves it when you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him closer while still remaining eye contact with you.

Spooning: He usually does this when he engages in a quickie with you. This gives a lot more skin-to-skin contact while still giving you a quick fuck from behind. He could place his hand on your waist to increase the intensity of his thrusts if he wanted

Seashell: Only if you’re flexible or comfortable enough to raise your legs all the way up until your ankles cross behind your head. If you have a pussy, this could give you more stimulation with his pelvic bone rubbing against your clit

Cowgirl: He always finds it hot when you’re riding him and controlling the pace. He can’t help but losing himself in the bliss you give him as you roll your hips against him

He’s always open to experimenting with different positions with you, so long as you don’t strain yourself

📄 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

While Ken does tease you the most in your relationship, your first time together left him feeling a little stiff and unsure of what to do. You lighten the mood with your sense of humour— throwing in one-liners and playful remarks, making the situation less awkward. Kenji was grateful for that

While it was your first too, you both had fun during foreplay, experimenting with different erogenous zones and laughing about whether you were even doing it right

But when it finally came to penetrative sex, he was locked in and hyper focusing on your micro-expressions to see if you were experiencing any discomfort, taking things slow with you

📄 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I’ve talked about how Kenji takes great pride in his appearance so his grooming routine is no exception. We know he keeps his hair styled so he has a collection of hair products to ensure his hair looks perfect

He puts the same energy when it comes to his body hair too, keeping things well-maintained. Yes, the carpet does match the drapes. He has a regular shaving routine and takes time to groom himself thoroughly.

📄 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

As mentioned earlier, Kenji is demisexual so sex will be emotionally charged and he’ll only reach that step when there is a special connection with you. So it comes to no surprise that he’ll be extra sweet while making love to you

He will maintain eye contact with you, watching your facial expressions as he gives you pleasure. And if you think that’s sweet, he’ll go even softer and hold your hand while he goes down on you— he wants to hold onto you whenever possible

He really wants to hear sweet words from you too, telling him how much you love him and how good he looks. He really feeds off your praises and it gets him going

📄 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐟𝐟.𝐝𝐨𝐜

If there’s one thing I can confidently say about Kenji, it's that he wouldn’t please himself like that outside of a relationship. Even while he’s single and doesn’t have a partner, he wouldn’t resort to that, especially while watching any explicit content while doing it. He feels like it’s disrespectful to his future partner

The only time he’ll ever do it is when he’s alone with you, giving you a show to tease you, or when he’s alone and is pleasing himself with you in his mind. Even then, he’ll still feel some guilt. He’d rather do it when you’re there to watch him (voyeurism?). You were always infatuated by him, and he’ll never get enough of your reaction

When he is alone, his thoughts will be filled with nothing but you. He recalls your touch, your voice and the way you look at him. He yearns for your presence the deeper these thoughts go

His self-restraint is a testimony of his character and how much he values the physical and intimate connection he shares with you. And it makes the moment even more special when he’s finally with you

📄 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Breeding kink: It wasn’t just Emi that influenced him, though it was a big factor. But seeing how natural you were with kids left his mind wondering, and he couldn’t stop thinking about breeding you. From that point on, he’ll get you knocked up, feverishly filling your womb with his seeds in hopes that you’ll get pregnant with his child.

Praise kink: This man is a sucker when it comes to your validation. And since you are his first, nothing will get him going more than hearing you praise him as he takes you. It gives him the satisfying feeling that he’s doing something right while giving you pleasure. He loves hearing your sweet voice tell him that he’s doing so well and how he’s good to you— he gets the fluttery feeling in his stomach that he quickly gets addicted to

Shibari (Japanese style bondage): He stumbled upon it somewhere and he couldn’t stop thinking about it whenever he was around you. This isn’t like western rope bondage where it entails a more functional role (retraining) but it’s more for aesthetics. He was really into it for the visuals and wanted to see you tied up in the most beautiful way. You did tease him about it when he brought it up but you still agreed, curious to see how it works. He made sure to buy the softest ropes purposely used for this type of stuff so you wouldn’t get friction burns

📄 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I’ve mentioned before that when it comes to his relationship, Kenji values his privacy— especially with his sex life. So he likes to keeps things sensible with the location

His go-to place is the Ultrabase, specifically his bedroom. It’s the safest place for him, given that he lives alone. Mina rarely hovers around his room so you’ll have the whole night to yourselves

He doesn’t mind doing it at your place, especially if you live alone. But if you do live with family or with a roommate, you’ll have to be extra quiet. He’s not against it but he'd prefer it if the property was empty with only the two of you. If you live alone, he would have more confidence in initiating something with you that’s not just in the bedroom— he wants to experience taking you on different surfaces in your house

📄 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kenji is incredibly responsive to your gentle touches and caresses. He loves it when you run your fingers through your hair or lightly trace patterns over his back. But the more handsy you get with him, the more stimulated he gets.

He gets more hot and bothered when he feels your soft kisses over his skin, particularly his neck where he’s more sensitive. That is when he’ll let you take the lead

Kenji also gets aroused by sensory details too. The scent of your perfume when he leans closer, especially when it’s one of his favourite delicious scents, makes him unable to keep his hands off you.

He appreciates visual stimuli— seeing you in an outfit that accentuates your features that he loves is enough to make his heart (and dick) throb

📄 𝐍𝐨.𝐝𝐨𝐜

He isn’t a fan of Dom/Sub with his partner. He has seen a lot about it online but the whole power dynamic is a turn off for him. He prefers to be equal— definitely a switch. The only time he’ll have the upper hand is when he’s teasing you, but even then he’ll still keep it lighthearted

Speaking of Dom/Sub, he isn’t a fan of hardcore kinks and BDSM. The most he’ll go is light bondage. He doesn’t understand the whole concept of being in control or hurting his partner that way during an intimate moment

📄 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐥.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kenji loves receiving blowjobs from you. Though, the first time you did it, he came almost immediately. It’s embarrassing how fast he reaches close to the edge just by feeling the warmth of your mouth on his throbbing cock

Even after you reassure him that he doesn’t have to worry about it, he still wants the experience to last as long as his body could drag it out. It doesn’t help when he could hear you moaning with his dick in your mouth and the way you look up at him. It took him a while for him to adjust and hold himself back

I wouldn’t call him a munch when it comes to giving heads to his partner, however. Since you are his first, he is hesitant with his approach and how to use his mouth on you (if you have a dick though, he’ll try and replicate what you do on him so he’ll give you the same amount of pleasure)

It took him a few rounds for him to get used to the taste of you and the feeling of you in his mouth. The first time he held your hand with his fingers interlocking with yours as he ate you out/sucked you off, while focusing on your reaction and the sounds you were making. He wanted to make sure you reached your peak just as fast as he did

📄 𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Slow and rough is usually Ken’s default. He wants to savour the moment, memorising every inch of your body and discovering new sweet spots. He likes to be a little rough with you so he could watch your body move in sync with his thrusts

If he’s a bit more riled up, he’ll be a little faster and harder with his pace. It’ll either be because he’s pend up or frustrated, but he will still be mindful of your comfort

📄 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

If he’s pent up and horny enough, he might engage in a quickie with you, especially if it’s in the mornings before he has to get ready for a game. Though he would prefer to have a long thorough session with you.

But if you rile him up enough, he’ll cave in before he blows his load inside you. Though, he’ll definitely get you back afterwards when he’s back home, keeping you up all night :))

📄 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐤.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Since this is all new to him and he’s still experiencing this first hand, he wouldn’t resort to anything risky until he’s properly getting in the swing of things

However one time, you somehow managed to sneak a quickie in the nosebleeds after the game, don’t ask how you managed to pull that off without anyone catching you. As much as Kenji not being a fan of PDA, he had to admit, the experience was exhilarating. But he would’ve never caved into the idea if he wasn’t confident enough or if he didn’t have better control of when he releases

All fun and games until he made a mess on your hands while you gave him a handjob. You had to quickly clean yourself up without leaving any trails of your activities behind. He still teases you about it from time to time, watching you get all flustered at the memory

📄 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Physically, he’s fit enough to go for 3-4 rounds if he wanted to. However, unless it’s a quickie session, he’ll probably only do 2 maybe squeeze a third round if you’re lucky.

He wants every round to be thorough, so they last a while— he takes his time with foreplay. Don’t worry if you ask nicely and he’s not tired, he might do another since he loves you so much ;)

📄 𝐓𝐨𝐲𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

He didn’t own any toys in the beginning but later on in your intimate relationship, he did get curious about it and it has crossed his mind a few times. He’s very intrigued with how your body reacted with a vibrator. Watching your body squirm from the vibration was a turn on

Since he is new to this, he’s still learning about these toys and how they work. He won't admit how much he loves the feel of the cock ring you use on him though

Even if he is open to using toys sometimes, he prefers the feel of your hands for the raw experience

📄 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫.𝐝𝐨𝐜

He is the biggest tease— argue with the wall. Even before you did anything physical in the bedroom, he would always throw you off with his witty comments that would leave you speechless— it mostly stems from his cockiness. So sex with him is no exception when it comes to his teasing

He wouldn’t go as far as denying your orgasm, he’s not that cruel— haha. But he’ll verbally prod lightly, especially when you’re desperate for his touches watching how quickly you get turned on by the smallest of things

Not only is it an ego boost, but it makes him feel desired and there is no other feeling that will match it

📄 𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Initially, Kenji was embarrassed of being too loud, so he would clamp on his lower lip with his teeth to suppress himself. But after a few rounds together, he would run his mouth with his vocals.

He would constantly tell you how beautiful you look and how he can’t get enough of you, especially during foreplay. While he’s thrusting, he lets out breathy moans against your neck

When he is holding back his own release, he might whimper a little but he’ll cover it up with low grunts before he lets out a broken cry of your name

📄 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I’ve mentioned before that Kenji gets aroused when you wear your perfume around him and has a heightened sensitivity to your pheromones. But I think your natural scent drives him wild and it acts like a powerful aphrodisiac.

Whenever he comes home to you, the first thing he would do is bury his face into your neck and take in your scent. During intimate moments, the blend of your natural pheromone along with your scent amplifies his attraction to you, (I don’t know if this counts as olphactophilia) It reminds him of home and his fulfilling relationship with you

📄 𝐗-𝐑𝐚𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

He averaged around 6.5-7 inches with a 1.5 inch width. Not too much girth but still enough for you to wrap your hands around it

#BF8888 for the tip colour with visible veins

Even if you are his first, he can make you see stars after learning how to use his dick right

📄 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Because of his baseball career and his demands for press conferences along with his Ultraman duties, it’s only natural that he’ll have a high sex drive and longs for your touch

Albeit, he won’t initiate anything until you’ve done a few rounds together, mostly because he’s still getting used to the new dynamic and he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable

Eventually, his hands will be all over you, sneakily hiking up your shirt as he kisses you passionately

📄 𝐙𝐳𝐳.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kenji will not fall asleep straight away after sex, especially if there is a mess on the sheets. He’ll strip the bed and change to some fresh sheets

He will take a shower and will probably encourage you to join. He doesn’t want to be away from you, even while cleaning— he might even clean you off as well

After all that, he’ll finally tuck into bed, inviting you over to sleep on his chest before wrapping his arms around you. You’ll usually fall asleep before he does

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @magnificentmuffinfluff @strawberryshortcake20 @chertilla-uwu @nicorobinmylifesaver @schmirov

@despacito-uwu16 @kilometersz @h3artb3atttt @luneariaa

"gonna make you a daddy" || vox machina x reader

With Vax, Percy, & Scanlan

tags: smut, afab!reader, female anatomy, pregnancy mentions, breeding kink, you're married<3, I'm not trying to show favoritism aaaa I just adore Percy sm 😭🥹, overstimulation, creampie, pussy drunk boiyos, I got the need for speed and the need to breed

Vax

Stopping mid-thrust, Vax's eyes widen. The breath stolen straight from his lungs. Pretty brown orbs search yours, glittering beneath the pale moonlight. Slowly he lifts your chin, bowing over your body to kiss your lips. A much more tender action than the unbridled way he'd been thrusting into you only moments prior.

"Are you sure, pretty?" Lips trail your skin, ghosting over your cheek to the corner of your mouth. Vax moans at your eager nod. "Words, baby. I need to hear you." His cock throbs deep in your cunt, making you gasp. He takes your hand, pressing a kiss where your golden ring adorned your finger.

Arching your back, you keen up at your love. "Yes, Vax-- my sweet Vax'ildan~! I wanna make you a daddy I--" A shuddering gasp ends your sentence. Vax presses deeply into you before pulling out and pressing your knees to your chest with a single large hand. His cockhead slips across your wet folds, tapping at your clit.

"Then we gotta make sure my cum takes hold, little raven." Vax yanks your lower half towards his pelvic bone, sinking into you with a single deep thrust. The night certainly had shifted the mood, but he'd argue for the better.

Percy

Cupping his face so gently, you beam up at Percy. "I mean it, love. I want to start a family with you."

A soft whimper crawls out of his throat, unable to focus on anything else but your living expression and the way you clench so tightly around his cock. His hand finds yours, pulling the sheets from your grasp so that he can twine your fingers together. Tiny tears bubble at the corner of his eyes, his arm sliding behind your back pulling you into his lap.

"An honor, darling. Let me look at you like this." Percy kisses you deeply, hips rolling into the backs of your thighs. With one hand braced across your shoulders and the other gripping your pace, Percy rocks into you with delicious fervor. An unmistakable gentleness to his touch.

The night ebbs on with loving strokes, slow deep thrusts and quite a few positions. There wasn't a lovelier sight that the moon light shining down on Percy's back; flexed muscles and a delicate sheen of sweet bared for your eyes only when he cums inside of you. Pushing it back into your cunt with thick fingers, he descends on you like a madman, tongue lapping at your clit. Those seafoam green eyes watching your chest heave with a desperate cry as you cum for him. Your legs are strained and tired but he isn't done yet. "One more, dearest. I promise I will be done. I need to make sure you're pregnant with my child. You can do that, can't you, baby?" He kisses your forehead, moving down to swallow your cries as he stretches you out on his thick girth once more.

Scanlan

A flushed hue coats his cheeks, a wide grin spreads across his face. "Fffffuck, baby, you serious? Yeah? You want to have a baby with m-me?" He swallows thickly, blush deepening. "Okay, okay. Don't need'ta tell me twice."

Scanlan smiles, a gentle tenderness in his silver-blue eyes. Kissing you deeply, his steadily pumps himself into you. Like a flurry, his hands are all over you. Unsure of where to find purchase but too eager to explore you; to leave no stone unturned. He breaks from the kiss with a low moan, a string of saliva trailing after.

With every outward dragging pull sends him thudding back against your skin. Creating an even pace, eyes drawn downwards where the two of you are connected. Scanlan is drunk on the creamy ring that coats the base of his cock that slides down his balls, staining the bedsheets.

He's lost track of how many times he came into you, how many times you clenched around his dick like vice-- all of it. All Scanlan can focus on is you sleepily tucked under his arm, his palm resting flat atop your tummy. You two have talked about starting a family for so long it almost feels unreal to finally be trying for one.

|| please don't repost, reuse, or edit my works in any way! I do not give permission. Tumblr is the only site where I post. All characters belong to their rightful owner and the story belongs to me © CHERUBFAE 2024 ||

The Alchemy I

jason todd x fem!reader

aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood

warnings: slow burn, mentions of attempted sa for reader, depictions of blood and injury, mentions of standard gotham violence

Dear fuck, he’s as heavy as he looks.

You use all of your weight to pull him backwards towards the couch, almost giving up when you realized you’d have to lift him up off the ground to actually get on it.

Getting him through the window was enough of a hassle, challenging the difficulty of the decision to bring him in here at all. 

Thankfully you don’t have to think too hard on it because you feel his body stiffen up suddenly. He jolts upright, though clearly pained to do so, hand flying to the gun holster on his side.

You take a step back, hands out in front of you. “Hey, it’s alright.”

“Who are you?” His voice is interrogative. 

You put your hands down, “You’re the one who passed out on my balcony, I think if anyone gets to ask that question it’s me.”

He stares at you, white lenses bearing into your soul.

Okay, yeah. You tell him your name. He doesn’t move. “You just looked like you needed some help..”

His posture loosens a bit, and his hand finally leaves the holster.

He glances down at his abdomen, a sizable tear in his suit and a nearly alarming amount of blood. “You got any bandages?”

“Uh, I—yeah, yeah, I do.” You dart down the hall into the bathroom, shuffling through your first aid kid. You toss a few wraps into your arms, along with some antiseptic spray you suspect he’ll need. You grab your hand towel and get it wet under warm water. 

When you return, he’s moved himself onto the sofa, lifting his shirt up to assess the damage. You round the couch, seeing more blood than you’d have hoped for.

“Can I?” You ask, motioning to his injury. 

He looks up at you for a long moment. He nods.

You kneel down in front of him and replace his hand in lifting up the shirt. It’s a cut, it doesn’t look terribly deep, but still not shallow enough that he could just leave it.

You take the rag and dab it around the wound, trying to clean up the blood as much as possible without making contact with it.

He’s very still as you work, and you get the strong impression he’s watching you carefully.

You grab the antiseptic spray, shaking it. “This’ll sting.”

He grunts.

You apply the antiseptic thoroughly and he doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t move his gaze from you for a second.

You unwrap one of the bandages and place it on firmly, making sure there’s no bleedthrough.

And not that you particularly want to be thinking about this right now, but the man is noticeably ripped. Stacked like a house of cards.

You rip away your gaze and stand up, hands on your hips, taking a deep breath. You look at him—at his helmet.

You don’t know how you can tell, but he’s studying you. Trying to get a read on you, maybe. Regardless, you’re eager to escape the gaze.

You shovel the remainder of your supplies back into your arms and bring them back to the bathroom, calling out, “I didn’t take off your helmet, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

There’s a short beat. 

“Do I seem like someone that worries often?” 

You peek your head out of the bathroom door. 

You look at him. “You seem like someone that doesn’t worry enough.”

He snorts. “You’re not far off.”

You make your way back once you’re done, looking at the disregarded meal you’d been interrupted from. “I have pasta if you…eat.”

“I do.”

“I can go in the other room if you—”

He clicks the lock on his helmet, taking it off. He’s left with a second mask underneath, covering his eyes and nose. His dark hair sticks up from the helmet, a white streak poking out in the front. He looks younger than you would’ve expected. Cuter, if his jaw is anything to go by.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Okay then.

You grab a second plate out of the cabinet and scoop on the rest of the pasta from the pan.

You hand him the plate, avoiding standing too close. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

You turn back around as casually as possible after hearing the name, wanting to avoid letting your face give anything away.

This guy kills people, right?

You sit down in the armchair across from the couch, spooling the pasta on and off the fork. He doesn’t show the same hesitation in dining away that you do—you guess fighting crime would require some calorie exchange.

“You a nurse?” He asks after a few minutes. 

The question takes you by surprise. You hadn’t taken him as a small talk kind of person. “Huh? Oh, no, I’ve just taken a few first aid courses and stuff.”

He gives a short hum, thoughtful.

“What?”

“You’re good.” Hardly.

“I didn’t really do anything.”

“You did enough.” He says, not leaving much room for argument.

He stands up at once, walking past you to the kitchen. Your gaze follows him silently. He puts his empty plate in the sink and returns to the edge of the living room.

He looks at you once more and pops his helmet back on followed by the click of the lock.

“I’ll see ya.” He says shortly, before ducking out the window.

You’re left alone, sitting in your armchair, plate of cold pasta forgotten on your lap.

That could’ve gone very badly. Maybe not your most thought-through decision to literally drag the Red Hood into your apartment, but hey. Maybe you’re exercising your ability to be an upstanding, helpful person. Or maybe you were just hoping to prevent a vigilante being found dead on your fire escape.

Regardless, you close the window after him, leaving it unlocked. Just in case.

You wake in the middle of the night to the sounds of footsteps in your living room. You shoot upright, immediately spotting the lamp light flooding in from under your door.

Creeping to a stand, you grab the baseball bat next to your bed and slowly walk to the door.

You creep the door open as quietly as possible, inching out half a step at a time. A nearby creak on your floorboards had you swinging blindly, only to have your bat get stopped midair. You look up to see Mr. Hood himself, blocking the blow of your hit with his hand. 

“Wow. You and a bat against Gotham, huh, sweetheart?”

“Fuck!” You let go of the bat and drown your face in your hands. “What is wrong with you?”

“Apparently that I don’t carry enough baseball bats with me.” He says coolly, inspecting your bat. Though he’s got to admit, your bat is probably a hell of a lot more useful than his. 

You drop your arms at your side. “If I’d known bringing you into my apartment one time was going to be considered a free pass forever, I might’ve thought twice.”

“If I’d known I was going to nearly be concussed with a baseball bat, I might’ve too.” Barely. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re still half asleep and it was not a very good swing.

He looks at you straight on for the first time. His helmet quickly drifts down and back up to your face just as fast.

You look down. T-Shirt, underwear, and…no that’s it. Not…ideal. You pull down on the unfortunately not at all oversized shirt, wanting to creep back into your room.

He turns his back, allowing you to do just that and scramble for some shorts to throw on. 

“Very gentlemanly of you.” You call out from your room, “And only thirty seconds after breaking into my apartment.”

“Okay, one, I’ve been here longer than that. In a non creepy way.”

“Right.”

“And two, I didn’t break anything. You live in the middle of Gotham and don’t lock your window?”

You reemerge in the doorway, “I live on the eighth floor.” 

He turns around to face you again, helmet in his hands. “Didn’t stop me.” No it did not. 

“Mm. So are you here specifically to judge my home security or was there something you needed?”

He takes a deep breath, “Actually yeah. I just need a place to rest for a minute.” 

“Rest from what?”

A series of gunshots echo from down the street.

“Next question.”

Concise.

You and Hood sit on the couch in the dark, per his insistence, because for some godforsaken reason, you have no curtains. It takes a few minutes for the silence to dissipate into forced conversation, which takes a few more minutes to fade into actual conversation.

“Can I be honest with you?” You ask him.

“Does it matter how I answer?”

“I don’t understand how you’re not dead.” You poke your head up, turning to him. “Are you human?”

He cranes his neck to look out the window, “Maybe getting shot at isn’t the worst thing that could happen tonight…”

You roll your eyes with a smile that you’re glad is hidden by the darkness. “Oh, fuck off.”

“You don’t have much in terms of self-preservation skills, do you?”

You ignore him as to not acknowledge that he’s probably right and roll through to your next curiosity, “Who the hell was shooting at you anyways?” Though, you don’t really expect an answer.

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. They got ‘til sunrise anyway.”

You tilt your head, “‘Til sunri—” oh. Yeah. Come to think of it, he does have two guns on him right now. At least that you can see. You squint blankly at the wall, “You know, I’m placing a lot of trust in the hope that you’re not just as bad as those guys.”

“Yes you are.” He nods, not doing anything to convince you that he is in fact a good guy. He hasn’t tried to harm you in any way though, so you guess that’s a good sign.

You tilt your head at him. “Do you get paid to do this?” 

“I’m pretty sure there’s a lot of people who would pay me not to do this.” 

You nod solemnly, mouth turned into an exaggerated frown. “So you have a day job?”

He looks over at you, “Do you always ask this many questions?”

“Are you always so dodgy about answering them?” You shoot back. If you’d thought for .5 seconds longer on that, you might not have said anything. But you feel comfortable here, in your apartment with a man whose face you’ve never seen, name you don’t know, and always has at least two loaded guns on him.

He huffs out a laugh, “Yeah. I am.” He looks over at you. “You live here by yourself?”

You look around at the empty apartment before turning back to him, “Seems that way.”

He shrugs, “Boyfriend could be out or something.”

“Well most people are asleep at one in the morning. Like I was. Remember that?”

“No.”

You sigh, curling up into a ball on your end of the couch, resting your chin on your knees. You’re quiet for a minute before piping up, “Do people actually break into apartments on high floors a lot?”

“Stupid people.” He pauses, looking over at the frown on your face. “Look, I’m in the neighborhood a lot. If I see somebody climbing your fire escape I’ll shoot them.”

You let a little smile out, “I’m thinking there’s other steps you could take before you get to that point.”

“If you want to waste time.” His gaze doubles back at you, “That was a joke, by the way.”

You bark out a tired laugh, “Yeah, I picked up on that, thanks.”

He removes his eyes from you, fixing on a set of pictures you have hanging on the wall.

Your eyes flutter and you move to rest your head on the arm of the couch. “Is this going to be a regular thing then?”

“You could lock your window.”

“Living on the eighth floor didn’t stop you, I can’t imagine a shitty lock will do much more.”

“If you don’t want me here, I won’t be here.” He says gruffly.

“If I don’t want you here, I’ll let you know.” You mumble, eyes closing.

You can barely make out a laugh from him, “Good to know.”

You’re not quite sure how much time goes by when he leaves, but you have a pretty strong feeling you’d fallen asleep. Your main indicator was feeling the blanket draped nicely over you that you could’ve sworn was on the chair across the room.

Maybe it’s ten o’clock at night and you’re sat on your kitchen floor, bawling your eyes out. Maybe you’re going to have to quit your job. Or maybe you’ll have to face a lawsuit. Maybe this is the worst day in the history of time. Maybe it’s about to get worse. 

The sound of your living room window sliding open has you startling into a rush, body panicking as if you’ve done something wrong and desperately need to cover the evidence. The past few weeks of sporadic visits leaves no question about who it is, and you just hope the kitchen island in front of you will be enough to convince Hood that you’re not in and he’ll leave.

But because today is today, that’s not how it goes down.

You can vaguely make out the sound of his footsteps approaching, a courtesy that you’re sure he incorporated on purpose.

“Oh fuck…” you mutter to yourself, wiping your eyes.

He rounds the counter, looking down at you. “Wha—what’s wrong?”

“Fuck. Nothing.” You say, standing up and adjusting your clothes. “Are you hurt?” He better fucking not be at only ten.

“No, I—why are you on the floor?” 

You roll your eyes, “I live alone, forgive me for assuming I would be given the privilege to cry on the floor in private.”

“Did something happen?” You’re trying really hard not to call him an idiot. 

You raise your eyebrows, giving a light nod. “Uh, yeah, I’d say so.”

He shifts in his stance, “Do I need to talk to someone?”

You scoff, knowing damn well his version of ‘talk to someone’ does not include talking to someone. “Why are you even here so early?” 

“Wanted to stop by before I went out.” he says quietly.

You’re about to snap something at him again, but the burning in your eyes takes immediate priority. You wrap your arms around your middle and try to calm yourself down, with very little success. The tears fall easily and your shoulders start shaking as you look at the floor, letting the melancholy take over. 

It feels like much longer than it probably was, but sometime after the first few tears fall he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. This only makes you cry harder, sobbing against his armor. Your arms stay wrapped around your center, while his hands remain completely still against your back, though firm. You don’t realize it immediately, but he’s holding a good portion of your weight up, you’d for sure collapse onto the floor otherwise. You kind of wish you would. Sitting on the floor felt nice, maybe falling down on it will feel even better.

You slowly start to regain your breathing, the well in your eyes drying up again. He waits for you to stop completely and slowly pulls back from you, hands momentarily still wavering next to you like he’s ready to catch you.

It takes you a minute to notice, but his helmet is locked on to the finger-shaped bruises on your forearm. You awkwardly move your opposite arm to cover them, looking around your apartment with nothing to search for.  

He’s quiet for a long while, clearly thinking hard. “What happened?”

You sniffle, “Some asshole at my job.”

“Some asshole?” He doesn’t believe you. Rightfully so, but he has no business being able to tell that you’re lying about one single word in that sentence.  

“My boss. Was very intent on successfully hitting on me.” You exhale deeply, “His approach could use some work though, if I’m honest.”

His posture remains statue-like. “Where do you work?”

You look at him straight on for the first time that night, “What does that matter?”

“I’ll take care of it.” He says simply.

You wave him off, “It’s fine.”

He waits a moment before letting you know, “I’m being polite by asking, I’m going to find out either way.”

You plop back down on the kitchen floor, knees to chest. “Well, then do it the hard way.”

About ten seconds of him staring down at you in silence go by, before he sits down next to you. It’s a bit funny how he tries to shrink himself down next to you, you’re assuming because he doesn’t want you to get panicked again because this massive stranger is sitting next to you in your kitchen in the dead of night.  

You don’t look at him as he clicks his helmet off and sets it on the other side of him. It’s quiet for another minute when he holds his gloved hand out to you, and you’re not quite sure how you know what he wants, but you do. You place your bruised arm in his hand, letting him gently pull it closer to him and scan over it. 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” 

Again, you don’t know how, but you can tell he’s asking how far things went. “I started screaming and it freaked him out. He let me go.” you say numbly. 

You can see him nod out of the corner of your eye, bits of red making their way into your peripheral despite the discarded helmet. You turn slowly to look at him, finding him looking at you already.  

His face is more covered than it had been the first night, the same black mask covers his eyes but the lower half of his face is also hidden by a red mouthpiece. You’re in the lamp light and closer to him than you had been before and you’re counting out specks of green in his blue eyes. He lets you, to your surprise, and when you run out of emerald hues you take focus on his thick, dark eyelashes. Your gaze moves back ever so slightly to make eye contact with him and you tear your eyes away, zeroing in on the kitchen tiles. 

You sigh contemplatively, “I’m worried if you kill my boss it’ll be traced back to me and I’ll get pinned for it.”

He doesn’t laugh. But your delivery was a little dry in the wrong way so really it was on you.

“I’m not going to kill him.” he tells you, “I wouldn’t gamble with my pied-a-terre like that.”

Your head falls back, hitting the drawer behind you with a light thud. “Then why waste your time at all?” Maybe you should slow down with the snide comments.

He wants to, but he doesn’t call out the implied self-slighting in your words. “Maybe it’s a ‘me’ thing but I don’t particularly like men that hurt women.”

You let out a dry laugh. “In Gotham, it just might be.”

He sits with you on the linoleum tile of your kitchen until your eyes start to droop and he lightly corrals you to your bedroom before taking his exit through the window. You told him multiple times that he could go and you were fine, but he insisted that nothing important was happening in the city that time of night. You didn’t quite believe him though, because it was past midnight by the time he’d headed out.  

When you showed up to work the following day your boss wasn’t there. Wasn’t there the day after either. Or the day after. He didn’t make an appearance again until the following Monday. And when he did show face, he did so with a neck brace and a cast on his leg. But once more, he absolutely refused to make eye contact or speak to any of the female employees. It actually became a whole thing when he wouldn’t give instructions or feedback to any of you, and insisted on having his secretary replaced with a man, who he then used as a middle man to speak to all of the women for him. HR got involved three times in the span of the next five days, and by the Monday after, he’d been fired.

So to recap: yes, no, no, undecided, and hard no. 

Maybe you’re really starting to like this Red Hood guy.

Hard yes.

You’re slightly on guard upon hearing a clattering on the balcony, though if the past few weeks have been any indicator, you’re not in much danger.

Your posture slumps as you peer around the hallway corner, “Oh, it’s you.”

“Good to see you too.” he grumbles, dropping onto the floor.

“Well, I have to imagine I’m a step up from the last person you saw.” You say, looking him up and down, seeing what sure as hell looks like a gunshot wound on his chest armor. “What happened to you? The Mad Hatter uses guns now?”

He groans, “Ah, I said something about him being a heartless fuck, and I guess he took it personally.”

You sigh, “Jesus Christ, Hood.”

He waves you off, “It’s not that big of a deal.” 

You scoff, “He tried to shoot you in the heart.”

“Yeah, well, he missed.” He grumbles, adjusting his position on the couch. 

You exhale sharply, “How do you know?”

“How do I know?” He tilts his helmet at you, exasperated. 

You throw your arms up at your side, “I don’t know! I’m not equipped for this scenario.”

He huffs, “Look, it’s fine, it hit my armor. It’ll probably just be a bad bruise.”

“Probably?”

“I don’t think there’s blood. Could you…” he vaguely gestures to his torso, but it's enough for you to get the hint.

You shake the panic out of your head, “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

You help him shrug off his jacket as he strips off his armor, and you lift his shirt up as slowly as you can in case the injury is worse than he thinks.

You’re not shocked to see that he has scars, that’s kind of a given in his line of work. What you are shocked to see is one very long scar that lines directly up the center of his body. It’s a deep scar, too.

And, oh. The long scar extends further, splitting off into a fork at his collar. That’s—oh. Oh. Oh. That is an autopsy scar. 

You’re not sure what to do. You’ve never seen a living person with an autopsy scar—though you have to imagine neither have most people.

He clearly does not want to talk about it and you’re happy to let him keep the skeleton in the closet.

You avert your gaze back over to his diaphragm at the area of reddened skin.

“There’s no blood, but…” You inspect it a bit closer, “I think there’s going to be a bad bruise. You might end up with bruising on your ribs, you need to get that looked at.”

“I am.” He says shortly.

You stand up straight, dropping your shoulders. “By someone who went to medical school. Or has taken more than one anatomy class in their life.” 

He yanks down his shirt, standing, apparently too quickly, and wobbling. You catch his arm as he sways, attempting to steady him. “You should sit down.”

“Need to go back out.” He grunts, trying to pull away from you with little force.

“To get killed? ‘Cause you’re going the right way about it.” 

He tilts his head at you like he’s daring you to be so bold again. At least that's what it felt like. You sigh, gesturing to the couch, “Sit down.”

You didn’t expect it to work but he does as told.

You look around, unsure of what to do next. “Do you need ice?”

“What?”

“You’re hurt.” You say slower. “Do you need ice?”

He falters for a second, “No, it’s—no.” A couple beats pass before he adds, “Thanks, sweetheart.” 

It’s impossible not to notice that he’s staring at you. You feel hot under his gaze, not knowing what to do with yourself. You clear your throat, telling him to hang on for a second. 

You call out behind you as you walk to the kitchen, “Take your helmet off, it’s rude.” You grab the painkillers from their new easily-accessible place on the kitchen counter and grab a water bottle from the fridge.

It was a joke but when you come back his helmet is off and he’s just wearing his domino eye mask. His hair is extra tousled, the white streak barely visible in the mess of loose curls. You toss the bottle of meds at him, followed by the capped bottle of water. He catches them easily, downing more than he probably should have but he got shot tonight so you figure you’ll give him a break about it.    

You plop down on the couch next to him, honestly closer than you’d meant to. Your knees and shoulders lightly brush against one anothers, though neither of you make any moves to scoot over. 

You both look straight ahead at the wall, simmering in the amity. “So did somebody else deal with the Hatter or when you get shot do you just bounce back like a T-1000?”

He scoffs, “No, getting shot at is a bit of an inconvenience for me.”

“Wrong line of work.”

He cocks an eyebrow, “You’re telling me.”

You turn your head to him, “Why do you do it then?” 

He looks back at you earnestly. “Someone has to.” 

“Someone does.”

He tenses up a bit at that, breaking eye contact. “Not well enough.” 

Your head slowly lulls and drops into a rest on his shoulder, causing him to stiffen up a bit more before almost completely relaxing.

“So violence is the answer to violence?” you ask, not argumentative, just genuinely musing. 

Hood sighs, “Half-assed reform programs didn’t do anything, shitty ‘crisis interventions’ didn’t do anything, the cops sure as hell don’t do anything.” He shrugs under you. “You run out of options eventually.”

“And that’s why you took it upon yourself to intervene?”

“Mm. ‘When reason fails, the devil helps.’” He says, quite melodramatically, in your opinion.

“I-Is that—” you squint, shooting off of his shoulder to look him in the eye. “You spend your nights getting in street fights and shootouts and you spend your days reading Crime and Punishment of all things?” You gawk at him, “That explains a lot about your disposition.”

He shrugs with a shake of his head. “It’s a rough world. Can’t afford to be reading about Hogwarts.”

You pause, combing through your next words, “‘Man only likes to count his troubles; he doesn’t calculate his happiness.’”

His eyes crinkle under his mask as he smiles, clearly pleasantly surprised that you know your shit. “Touché.”

You grin back, pleased with yourself. 

There’s a brief recession where your smiles both get caught in the flicker between on and off, where your eyes take the opportunity to scan over each other’s faces. 

You realize that this may be the first time you’ve seen him properly smile and it’s so magnetizing. So much so that you don’t realize you’re staring at his lips until your eyes snap back up to his and find that his are on yours.

His eyes don’t leave yours as he nudges you a bit with his shoulder. It does just enough to break the trance, giving you the cue to rest your head on him again. This time you allow more of your weight to lean against him and he actually seems relaxed for once.

 You glance at the clock on the wall without moving and realize it’s almost four in the morning. “I’m tired, Hood.” you mumble into his shirt.

“You don’t—” he falters for a moment, “You don’t have to call me that.”

You squint at him, “What should I call you then?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “J.”

“J?” you whisper, like it’s a grave secret. You guess it kind of is.

He nods.

“Okay.” Your cheek flattens against his shoulder. “J.” 

You nearly think you’re imagining it when you feel him rest his head against yours.

“You don’t know how to protect yourself?”

You roll your eyes at him, “You saw the way I swung at you with the baseball bat, what do you think?”

It’s only just after sunset, you could still see some purple-pink hues in the sky if you looked out the window. He’s started showing up before patrol some nights, saying he felt bad about waking you up at 3 am multiple times a week. So now, he mostly only drops in late if he’s a manageable amount of injured.

You stand in the middle of your living room together, after you’d made a joke about needing him as a bodyguard in Gotham. As it turns out, that was a one way street to him finding out that you’re useless in a fight.

“I was hoping you were having an off night because you just woke up, but now I'm concerned.” He says, grimacing.

You shrug, “I carry pepper spray.” 

He grumbles, displeased. “Put your hands up.”

You drop your head to the side and glower at him, “Really?”

He raises his eyebrows at you. Just do it. 

Alright, you’ll humor him. You put your fists up and he holds his hands open in front of you in kind. You throw a light punch.

“Come on, put your weight behind it.”

You do, hitting his hand harder. “Hood—”

He tilts his head forward at that, looking at you through his brows.

You inhale impatiently, “J, Why do we have to do this? I don’t have any illusions that I could knock you out and I can’t imagine you do either.” 

He shakes his head, “It’s not about knocking someone out, it’s about defending yourself. Gonna be a hell of a lot harder to hurt you if you’re throwing punches. Harder.”

You give a raised hum, “Not if they have a gun…”

“Well, we’ll work on that too.”

You groan, throwing a half-assed hit. “Where’d you learn to fight?” You ask before throwing another.

“Turn your body into it.” He corrects. “My, uh, my dad taught me.”

You hum, hitting him again. “Are you guys close?”

“You’re being nosy again.” He grunts amidst a hit.

“You’re being evasive again.” You shoot back.  

He drops his hands, taking your wrists in his, “Here, put your hands in front of your face when you shoot so you can block counters.” He tells you, adjusting your stance accordingly.

You make a face, “I’m confused, am I fighting a mugger or a kickboxer?”  

He ignores you, moving his hands around to give you different angles to hit at. 

You go at it for a few minutes, taking his critiques with reluctant concedence. “Alright, that’s good.” He says, relaxing his body.

You perk up, “We’re done?” 

“No,” he shuts you down before asking earnestly, “Do you trust me?”

Your brain hadn’t even fully processed the question before you nod, mumbling a ‘yes’. He takes a measured step closer to you, watching carefully for your reaction. You almost back up in surprise, angling your head up further to look at him properly. You give no objection, so he continues, “I want you to try to get me on the ground.”

You let out a sound that’s half-laugh, half-scoff. “You’re twice my size.”      

He sighs, looking at you somberly. “Sweetheart, odds are you’re not going to be evenly matched against someone that wants to hurt you. You get ‘em on the ground ‘n you have the upper hand or it’ll give you time to get away.”

You throw your hands up at your sides, “I don’t—” You huff, “Fine, okay.” You try to trip him by sliding your leg behind his and kicking, but he blocks you expertly.

You, against better judgment, shove your shoulder into his side, though it does nothing to phase him, let alone knock him down. 

“You gotta get more creative than that.” He chastises with a tut. 

In response, you take a step back to reassess the situation. You try to maintain a poker face as you strategize in your head. You make a dive for his legs, wrapping your arms around the back of his legs and pulling hard to make him lose balance. You’re sure if he were actually trying for a damn you would immediately be done for afterwards, but it does make him wobble. You then throw all of your weight against him, pushing him backwards and causing him to hit the floor with a thud.

He probably allowed for gravity to come to your aid, but he lands on his back all the same. You land half on him, half on the carpet, your hand resting on his chest. He looks up at you nodding, “Good. That was good, sweetheart.”

You smile, quite proud of yourself, and start to stand up when he hooks his arm around the back of your knee and pulls you to the ground too, switching places with you. You hit the ground gently with a sigh, “Really?”

He has one hand rested next to your head to balance him in his place above you. He smirks down at you and lets a tussle of white hair hang over his forehead. “Can’t be getting cocky, sweetheart.”

You laugh sourly, “Coming from you?” 

You quickly push at the bend of his arm and use the distraction to adjust your position to wrap your legs around his center and push your arm against his chest in an attempt to rotate him off of you.

He counters you by pushing your shoulder down, holding you down to the floor. His opposite hand flies to pull your forearm away from his chest, pinning it next to your head, careful to avoid your hair. He moves so quickly that you have half a mind to think he acted on pure instinct. That, and the look on his face when the dust settles says that he hadn’t intended for you to end up in this position. 

Your legs are still wrapped around him and you’re too frozen in the moment to make any changes. He’s in no more of a rush to move, large frame towering over you. You feel his touch stutter against your shoulder, his eyes flickering across your face.

You gaze up at him, taking in the soft look in his eyes behind the mask. You think you can see more green than you did before. You unwrap your legs from around his waist and slowly start to sit up. He releases your wrist and eases the pressure on your shoulder. He leans back half as quickly as you move forward, stopping when you’re propped up on your elbows.

Your faces are only a few inches apart and it feels like your only option is to look down at his lips. You have a feeling he’s doing the same to you. The adrenaline of the hassle has long since faded but the rhythm in both of your chests remains quick.

He leans forward so barely, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. “J…” you say breathily, not sure what implication you’re aiming for.

He stills and this time you’re sure he’s looking at your lips. He blinks a few times like he’s trying to come back to himself and inches his face away from yours slowly. 

You let the hold in your breath release, disappointed more than anything. He eases off the floor to a stand and holds his hand out to help you up too. You take it with more of a frown than you’d meant to let out and rise to your feet.

“Let’s, uh…” He looks at the ground before taking a step back and putting his hands up again. “Let’s try some combos.”

You blink up at him for a second before raising your hands too.  

Alright, one step at a time.