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ofbatsandballads · 2 days ago

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Yay! I’m so glad you take requests. Feel free to decide if you want to write this or not, it’s fine either way :)

So, I was thinking about Jason dating civilian!reader, and her coming home all disheveled and horrified. Since she knows about him being Red Hood, she can confide in him. She had just killed someone for the first time, whether it was an accident, self defense or whatever, you decide.

I was just wondering how Jason would handle this situation since usually he’s the one doing the killing.

Thank you <3

oh, this is amazing food for thought. I actually think he’d be the very best person to come to in such a situation because he has experience with killing. who’s gonna understand you better than him? literally nobody. had something similar to this in my drafts but now my mind is whirling in a whole host of directions. excellent prompt, nonnie!

jason todd x f!reader. warnings include graphic depictions of violence and killing (in self defense), attempted and failed sexual assault, the aftermath of both events (reader’s in shock), hurt/comfort. this one’s got heavier subject matter so please do mind the warnings, folks. i did way too much research of the Gotham Knights map for this, but it’s my favorite depiction of the city so so be it. also reader and Jason live in the Belfry bc i said so (personal hc that i may or may not elaborate on some time). and one last thing! the romanized Arabic at the end is “حياتي ” which translates to “my life”. I love the idea that Jason picked up Arabic terms of endearment from Talia calling Bruce just about every one she could.

Jason wakes up to soft afternoon sunlight shining on his face. He grumbles out a gravelly hum and scrunches up his face in protest against being awakened when he was sleeping so nicely. He reaches out to find the comforting warmth of his beloved beside him, to pull you in and bury his face into your hair so he can hide from the morning for a bit longer.

All he finds are cold sheets and an empty pillow.

He bolts upright. Something’s wrong. You never, never wake up before him. He doesn’t even register the way that the sudden abundance of light stings his eyes. He takes stock of his surroundings, his training executing on autopilot. The open layout of the Belfry lets him get his bearings in seconds. He doesn’t see you anywhere from the bird’s eye view of your loft bedroom. There’s no smell of food in the kitchen nor any mess that would indicate you’d been working in there. The living room space, fully visible below, is empty too. The only enclosed space in your home, the bathroom that’s just around the corner from your bedroom, is dead quiet. No running water, no sweet singing, no familiar coughing from swallowed toothpaste. And without so much as leaving your bed, Jason’s already come to a conclusion that sends his heart pounding and dries his throat. You’re not here.

He’s up and grabbing the 9mm taped under your bedside table in the span of a few breaths. He moves through your home methodically, like he’s clearing one of Gotham’s criminal hideouts. There’s no sign of a struggle. Nothing’s been disturbed. He’s not surprised by this—barring Wayne Manor, the Belfry is the most secure building in Gotham. That’s precisely why Jason had moved you both here once you decided to live together. He checks the coffee table and sees that your phone and wallet are gone. A different type of fear takes over now. One that makes his heart ache. What if you’ve finally had enough, finally seen that he’s not good enough for you, not worth sticking around for? It makes him sick. He swallows hard and tries to clear the blistering thought from his head. No, that’s not you. You’re not cruel. You’re kind and gentle and loving. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. And you wouldn’t hurt him.

The sight of gears turning in his periphery catches his attention. He sees the cables pulling and the security panel go green, and he’s running to the elevator doors damn near ready to pry them open. He hastily tucks the 9mm into the waistband of his pajama pants, easily within reach if he needs it. Relief floods him when the huge metal doors grind open and he sees your pretty face on the other side. Then his heart drops when he realizes that that pretty face is scraped and splattered with blood.

Your hair is tangled and wet, dripping dirty water down your neck and staining the bright red of his your favorite hoodie. Your hands, which shake as they reach blindly towards him, are stained crimson and battered too. But it’s your eyes that haunt him. You look broken.

“Jay,” you croak out, unable to summon anything but a plea for the one person who can keep you safe.

The tears fall from your eyes at the same time that you collapse into Jason’s arms. He drags you inside and locks down the Belfry. Jason wants to panic but feels a strange sense of calm about himself. As loathe as he’d be to admit it, he finds himself falling into Bruce’s habit of assessment and action.

“Baby, what happened?” he asks, voice steady and assured.

You don’t even hear him. You’re digging your hands into his shirt, clinging on to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth. He may very well be. He feels you going rigid and cold and he knows he has to get you stable before you descend further into shock.

“Listen to me,” he says firmly, adding on and enunciating your name for emphasis.

That sparks some semblance of lucidity. Jason hasn’t called you by your name in months, much preferring you be his baby or his sweetheart or his doll, or simply his. If it jars you back to reality, so be it.

“I need you to tell me what happened,” he demands gently.

It all pours out of you like a flood.

You’d woken up early by chance this afternoon. Normally you’d just close your eyes and snuggle closer to Jason to catch a couple more hours of sleep, but you wanted to do something nice for him. So you’d gotten up and gone to Lemay’s Flower Emporium in Gotham Heights. You’d bought him the prettiest bouquet of red and pink roses, so big that you had to hold on to it with both arms. The taxi ride from the Heights back to Coventry Station went fine. You were almost home. So close that you could see the clock tower where your heart was sleeping peacefully.

Then you stopped at Commerce Avenue Station. You just wanted to get him some pastries from the little bakery tucked away on 3rd Street that you both love. It was a decent walk; you knew that. You also knew that Jason wouldn’t want you to go out of your way by yourself. But it was morning and you were a grown woman and you could handle yourself, right? Well, that’s what you thought until a pair of hands clamped down on your shoulders and yanked you violently into a side alley.

Jason had prepared you for something like this. You’d spent countless evenings with him teaching you self defense techniques in the training area of your home. None of it mattered because the man that had you by the shoulders slammed you so hard into the brick wall that all your thoughts went hazy. Before you could regain your footing, you were shoved to the ground. The bitter sting of your palms scraping open pierced through the fog, as did the crushing weight of the vile man on top of you. Fear shot through you as the man started tugging at his belt and you realized that this wasn’t intended to be a mugging. You tried to scream but a grimy hand clamped over your mouth, hitting your head against the ground and soaking your hair in dirty rain water and blood.

Your eyes darted around in search of someone—anyone. But no one was coming. You felt fingernails scratch against your stomach as clammy hands curled into the waistband of your sweatpants and suddenly you saw your savior. A brick from the damaged alleyway laid within reach. You didn’t even think when you grabbed it, when you swung it as hard as you could into the side of the man’s head. The corner hit his temple and he crumbled to the side. You rose to your knees and hit the man again. And again. All you could remember were Jason’s firm instructions: if someone makes it a choice of you or them, you make sure that it’s you no matter what it takes.

“I don’t r-remember anything else,” you sob into his chest. “There was so much blood, Jason. And his head—oh, God.”

Jason shushes you gently. He holds you tight in his arms like he’s terrified that if he loosens his grip even slightly, you’ll fade away on him.

“Don’t think about it, baby. You did what you needed to do. You protected yourself. I’m so proud of you.”

“I killed someone, Jason. I killed someone.”

You look at him wide eyed—afraid, horrified, guilty. No. Jason won’t have that. You will not feel guilty over some lowlife scumbag who wanted to hurt you, who probably would have killed you. Jason can’t even stomach the thought. He wants to put a bullet into whatever’s left of that predator’s head. No, the only shame in you killing that man is that you got to him before Jason could.

“I need you to listen to me,” he says, repeats your name again for emphasis. “You. Did. Nothing. Wrong.”

“Someone’s dead because of me, Jay,” you argue, gripping him tighter as your panic rises.

“Baby, do you know how many people are dead because of me?” he asks. “Far, far more than I’d ever want you to know. Do you think I’m a monster, honey? That I did something wrong?”

He knows it’s an apples to oranges comparison. But you’ve used this same tactic on him so many times that he also knows it’s effective. Every time he demeans himself for something, you ask if he’d treat you the way he treats himself for the same thing. The answer is always no.

“No!” you reply emphatically. “You protect people. You do it to keep people safe.”

“You did it to keep yourself safe.”

“But—”

“No buts. Or ifs. No ands, either, just in case you get any ideas,” he says lightly, brushing a speck of blood off your cheekbone.

You smile at his stupid little comment and he feels the tension in his body release just slightly. As long as there’s light back in your eyes for even a moment, he knows that you’ll be okay. He picks you up, lets you cling your arms around his neck and bury your face in his chest as he carries you to the bathroom upstairs. He runs you a bath and, after asking repeatedly if you were okay with it, undresses you and washes the blood and grime from your body. He wraps you in a big fluffy towel, dries and brushes your hair, and tends to your injuries before he bundles you up in his comfiest hoodie and pajama pants. He soothes you when your tears make their return and never leaves your line of sight because he knows he makes you feel safe.

The thought gnaws at him throughout the day. It outright scalds him as he lies in bed with you after deciding to skip patrol. He’s failed you. Failed to protect you, failed to ensure nothing harms a hair on your head. He’s failed at taking care of you, the one thing that matters more to him than anything else. He’s seconds away from spiraling into self hatred when your sweet voice comes calling, soft and pleading.

“Jay…please stay with me,” you say softly.

Your eyes are clear and focused again. You squeeze his waist tight where your arms are wrapped around him, like you’re physically trying to anchor him in place in your bed. The look on your face says that you know exactly where his mind was headed. You see right through him. It makes him feel more vulnerable than anything else, and it surprises him how much he loves the feeling. And Jason, as always and for eternity, can’t bring himself to deny you. So he pulls himself together and shoves all his self loathing down. He can deal with it later—you need him more right now.

“I’m right here, hayati. Not goin’ anywhere, I promise.”

He kisses you gently and feels some of that self hatred wash away when you chase after him for more goodnight kisses. He feels it dissipate even more when you fall asleep in his arms with a soft smile on your face. It’s all but forgotten as he drifts off too, safe in the knowledge that you’re here with him, that he can feel your heart beating pressed tight against his own.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #remy writes 🖋️#answered asks #anon I love this prompt so much #thank you for giving me such good inspo bc it broke my writer’s block

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00valentina-writes00 · 3 days ago

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I was wondering if you could do Sevika and Ambessa x reader who still has the biggest crush on them even tho they’re dating? They get all nervous and giddy around them 🤭 just looking at them causes them to smile

♡♥︎Dating, but still Crushing ♥︎♡

♥︎♡ Sevika ♡♥︎

♥︎ Sevika notices your nervousness right away. She’s been around long enough to recognize when someone’s acting out of character, and the way you get all fidgety and blush whenever she’s around doesn’t escape her.

♥︎ She gets a little smug about it. Her lips curl into a small, knowing smirk when she catches you glancing at her, eyes wide, a little smile tugging at your lips. She might even raise an eyebrow, like she’s amused by how cute you’re being.

♥︎ When you blush and look away, she’ll deliberately move closer, just enough to make you squirm. Her deep voice is low and teasing when she says, “You’ve been staring again, huh?” as if she’s almost daring you to admit it.

♥︎ Sometimes, she’ll catch your eye and hold it longer than usual, enjoying how flustered you get. She’ll flash a sly grin and lean in just slightly, murmuring, “You know, you’re way too obvious about it.”

♥︎ The way you can’t seem to hide your feelings around her amuses Sevika more than it should. She’s not the type to get flustered or nervous, so seeing you so openly enamored with her is both endearing and a bit of an ego boost.

♥︎ When you do something small like bite your lip or stammer over your words, Sevika won’t let it slide without a comment. She might lean in with a teasing smirk, “Getting shy on me now? Thought you were better than this,” just to watch you squirm even more.

♥︎ She’ll purposefully break the silence with her deep voice, saying something like, “What is it with you, huh? You look at me like I’m the only thing you’ve ever wanted.” She watches for the way you react, savoring the nervous little laugh or shy glance you give her in response.

♥︎ Sevika may occasionally drop a small compliment just to watch your face light up, “Did you know you look really cute when you get all nervous like that?” She’ll say it casually, acting like it’s no big deal, even though she can’t help but feel a little satisfied at the way you glow under her attention.

♥︎ There are moments when Sevika leans against something—casually, like she’s not trying to impress you at all—but she knows it gets under your skin. She watches your eyes track her every movement, and a sly grin tugs at her lips when you can’t hide it.

♥︎ She can tell when you’re thinking about her, even if you’re trying to hide it. There’s a slight twinkle in your eyes, and she’s seen that look before. It’s the kind of look that tells her you’re still in awe of her, like she’s the only one who matters. And it makes her feel… something she doesn’t always know how to deal with.

♥︎ When you don’t know how to control your feelings and start giggling nervously in her presence, Sevika might grab your wrist, pulling you close to her. She’ll look down at you with a half-amused, half-patient expression, “You’re gonna embarrass us both if you keep doing that, you know.”

♥︎ Sevika’s confidence shines through whenever she notices your crush on her, but she can’t deny the pull you have on her. You make her feel like she’s desirable in a way that even she can’t resist. She’ll catch herself staring back at you, sometimes even smirking like she’s trying to figure out just how much you’re really into her.

♥︎ She might occasionally challenge you in a playful way to see how far your nerves will go. “Come on, don’t act like you’re not thinking about me. I can see it in your eyes.” Her voice is teasing, and she enjoys watching you blush all over again.

♥︎ Sevika finds your awe of her oddly charming. When you look at her like you’re starstruck, she gets this quiet satisfaction from knowing that she’s the one causing it. It might not show on her face, but she secretly enjoys it more than she lets on.

♥︎ If you start fidgeting with your hands or avoiding eye contact, Sevika will place a hand on your arm, stilling you with a firm grip, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. “You get nervous over every little thing, don’t you?” she’ll ask with a dry chuckle.

♥︎ Deep down, Sevika’s not immune to your crush. She finds herself drawn to how you can’t stop smiling at her like she’s your whole world. It makes her feel more powerful than she’d like to admit, but it also makes her heart beat a little faster when she realizes how much she actually cares.

♥︎ She’ll sometimes use her presence to keep you on edge—standing just a little too close or leaning over you when she speaks. It’s her way of testing just how much she can make you blush without saying anything overt.

♥︎ When you get caught in a trance staring at her, Sevika will lock eyes with you and hold your gaze for longer than necessary, her voice dropping to something almost intimate as she says, “What’s going on in that head of yours? You want to say something?”

♥︎ Her teasing comes with a sense of ownership. She knows she’s got you wrapped around her finger, and she uses that to her advantage. But beneath the teasing, there’s a subtle softness to the way she’ll touch you, like she can’t resist the connection you share.

♥︎ Sevika is oddly protective of you, too. If anyone notices how much you crush on her and comments on it, she’ll step in immediately, giving them a sharp look or cold retort, making it clear that you’re off-limits.

♥︎ On rare occasions, Sevika might let her guard down just a little. If you’re particularly nervous around her, she’ll pull you into a hug, holding you close for a brief moment before pulling away with a smirk. “You’re all over the place. Relax,” she’ll say, though she’s just as affected by the moment as you are.

♥︎ Sometimes, when she feels particularly soft and unguarded, Sevika might do something small to show she’s not immune to your affection. A soft brush of her fingers against yours or a quick peck on the cheek—nothing overt, but just enough to let you know she feels the same way.

♥︎ When you blush and try to hide it, Sevika will always call you out on it. “You think I can’t see you turning red? Cute.” And her voice will be low, almost like she’s savoring how flustered she’s made you, her smirk a little more playful than usual.

♥︎ There are times when Sevika just sits back and watches you with a hint of admiration in her eyes. She’s well aware of the effect she has on you, and, despite herself, she enjoys it. Your crush makes her feel like she’s the most important person in your world, and that, in turn, makes her fall a little harder for you.

♥︎ When she’s feeling particularly bold, Sevika will tease you with, “You know, you’re cute when you’re trying to act all nonchalant about me. But I can tell you’re just waiting for me to make the first move, huh?”

♥︎ As much as Sevika acts like she’s unaffected by your adoration, the truth is, she’s just as into you as you are into her. You’re her weakness, and she knows it. Every glance, every smile, it only makes her want you more. And even though she tries to act like she’s got everything under control, you still have the power to make her heart race.

♥︎ Sevika might not always show it, but she’s still crushing on you in her own way. The way you look at her, like she’s the only one who matters, makes her feel something she can’t quite put into words—something she’s not used to feeling. And she’s not sure what to do with it, but she definitely isn’t ready to let go.

♥︎♡ Ambessa ♡♥︎

♥︎ Ambessa notices how you’re still nervous around her, and while she enjoys it, she doesn’t let it show too much. She’s used to being admired, but the way you act around her is different, and it’s something that amuses her in a quiet, private way.

♥︎ When she catches you staring, Ambessa smirks to herself before deliberately leaning into your line of sight, as if daring you to keep looking. She knows how you feel about her, and she likes it—likes the way you get lost in her gaze. She’ll look at you, her eyes dark and calculating, as if she knows exactly what you’re thinking.

♥︎ When she teases you about your nervousness, she does it in a soft, but commanding tone: “Careful, darling. If you keep looking at me like that, I might think you’ve fallen for me all over again.” She enjoys the slight power she holds over you and the way you blush at her words.

♥︎ Sometimes, Ambessa will purposely make you nervous just to see the way you react. She’ll brush her hand against yours casually, watching your breath hitch as she does, then she’ll let it linger just long enough to make you even more flustered.

♥︎ When you try to flirt with her and completely miss the mark, Ambessa won’t make you feel stupid about it, but she can’t resist a sly, teasing comment. “Is that supposed to be a compliment, darling? I’m sure you’ll get it right next time.” She’ll wink or smirk, not out of malice, but because she enjoys watching you try so hard.

♥︎ If you stammer over a simple “hello,” Ambessa will raise an eyebrow and look at you with that trademark, unbothered air of hers. “Careful now, darling. Don’t choke on your words,” she’ll tease, a sly smile curling at the corners of her lips.

♥︎ Despite her teasing, Ambessa secretly finds your nervousness endearing. It’s like she’s the only one who gets to see this side of you—the side that’s still so captivated by her, and that makes her feel oddly special, even if she doesn’t admit it aloud.

♥︎ Sometimes, when she’s in a particularly playful mood, Ambessa will deliberately drop a compliment that’s so smooth it’s almost unfair, just to watch your face light up and your nerves get the best of you. “You should smile more, darling. It suits you.”

♥︎ She doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but Ambessa enjoys the power she has over you. Every time you blush or get flustered, it feels like a small victory to her. But she’s not cruel about it—she’s just… amused.

♥︎ If you try to flirt with her directly, saying something even mildly suggestive, Ambessa will respond with calm confidence, “Is that your way of telling me you’re still interested? Because I’m already aware, darling.”

♥︎ When you’re around her and you get a little too shy, Ambessa will call you out with a laugh, “What’s wrong? Have I got you speechless now?” Her teasing tone is playful, but there’s a warmth there, almost like she’s enjoying the attention.

♥︎ When you attempt to play it cool and fail, she’ll keep her distance, letting you stew in your nervous energy before saying something cutting yet teasing: “You really don’t know how to handle yourself around me, do you?” But there’s always a glimmer of affection in her eyes.

♥︎ Ambessa has a knack for turning the tables, and she’ll use your nervousness to her advantage. If you get all flustered when she gets close, she’ll make it a point to stand or sit even closer to you, enjoying how you become even more tongue-tied and restless.

♥︎ If you get overly nervous and accidentally trip over your words, Ambessa will just chuckle softly, a sound so confident and knowing that it makes your heart race. “You’re adorable when you’re trying so hard,” she’ll say, and you’ll feel like a fool—but in the best possible way.

♥︎ When you nervously ask her a question, Ambessa will give you a patient, almost indulgent smile, her eyes locking onto yours as she waits for you to finish. When you get to the end, she’ll respond with a dry “Was that so hard?” to playfully remind you of how easily she can fluster you.

♥︎ If you smile at her without saying anything, Ambessa will step closer, lowering her voice so it’s just between the two of you. “You look at me like you want something, darling. Should I ask what that is?” Her voice is smooth, her presence commanding, and you can’t help but feel all the more enamored.

♥︎ When you try to act casual and fail, Ambessa will reach out with that cool, steady hand of hers to lightly graze your arm or shoulder. “Relax, darling. You don’t need to try so hard with me,” she’ll say, her tone both teasing and comforting.

♥︎ Ambessa has a tendency to playfully make you aware of how obvious you are. “You’ve been staring at me for minutes now, darling. Is there something you’d like to say?” She’ll keep her voice low and seductive, enjoying the way your face turns crimson under her gaze.

♥︎ If you get nervous in public, Ambessa will guide you through it, her hand on your back in a way that’s almost possessive. “Stop worrying, darling. You’re mine, and I’m not letting you embarrass yourself.” She’ll say it with quiet confidence, and that confidence rubs off on you.

♥︎ Ambessa doesn’t mind when you get nervous around her. In fact, she loves the attention. She enjoys watching you try to hide it and can’t help but be a little smug when you fail. It feeds her ego, but in a way that’s soft and almost… affectionate.

♥︎ When you shy away after a compliment, Ambessa will chuckle softly and take your chin in her hand, tilting your head back to look at her. “You should learn to accept compliments from me, darling. You’re going to hear a lot more of them.”

♥︎ If you smile too much when she’s around, Ambessa will pull you in close by the waist, just enough to make you feel her warmth against you. “You like looking at me, don’t you?” she’ll say with a sly smile. It’s her way of acknowledging how utterly captivating she finds your admiration.

♥︎ Ambessa loves that she’s the one who makes you smile uncontrollably. She’ll sometimes pause, watching you try to hide your giddiness, and then say in a low voice, “You’re adorable when you try to act serious around me.” It’s her way of letting you know how much she enjoys your affection.

♥︎ She’ll often pull you close for a brief, soft kiss when you’re least expecting it, just to remind you that she knows how you feel and that you don’t have to be so nervous around her. “Relax, darling. You’ve got me,” she’ll whisper in your ear afterward, her hands resting possessively on your hips.

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pixiepipedreams · 22 hours ago

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♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — intrusive thoughts, tied up in knots, by the concept of us // in-ho x reader x gi-hun

♡ ⁄ pairing: in-ho x reader x gi-hun ♡ ⁄ warnings & tags: fem!reader, canon-typical violence & death, obsessive behavior, lying/manipulation, age gap (reader is 20-22, in-ho & gi-hun are late 40s, early 50s) ♡ ⁄ wordcount: 6.9k ♡ ⁄ summary: the second vote holds no promises for a brighter future, and both in-ho and gi-hun find themselves contemplating the ever intriguing player 132. THIS IS PART THREE OF A SERIES! (➊) (➋)

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

In-ho had dedicated his youth to policing the criminals of Seoul, and he has seen the balance of human nature. He had been devoted to fighting the good fight, keeping the criminal population in line, dealing with drunks and abusers and the worst of the worst. He’d never done anything unjust, never used unnecessary force, but still, he’d been tossed to the curb in his hour of need, falsely accused of accepting bribes. Like clay, the cruel hands of the universe shaped him into what he needed to become to survive. The games had been both a blessing and a curse, a way to fight back, to save his wife and unborn child.

None of it had mattered. Every sacrifice was just another digit pressed into his moldable form, so slow and sure that he hadn’t even noticed the difference until he’d received the invitation from Il-nam to front the games. It had felt like a reclamation, a saving grace, a way to hide from the misery of his life as a widower, from the disgust he felt with an uncaring world. When choosing between the lesser of two evils, he chose the more black and white option - give one or two pieces of gum on the bottom of the country’s shoe a chance to unstick themselves and reform, while the rest get tossed and burned like the trash that they are. Like everyone is.

That’s what you should have been.

Another piece of gum, debris, a bag of trash rotting on the side of the road. Another inconsequential player, another layer of scum on this waste of a planet. But at every turn, you surprised him. The optimism in your view of life, the intelligence in your eyes, the strength that you carried even in fear. You pointed out flaws in Gi-hun’s arguments, you challenged In-ho just by existing. He should hate it. He should want to corrupt you, bring you down to his depths of apathy and revulsion with the world.

In a way, he does.

Player 132. (Y/N). You were an unexpected factor in his mission, made all the worse by the fact that you bear the same number he did in 2015. Every flicker of feeling that you cause in him is only accentuated by the closeness the games force the players into, the camaraderie between those meant to be competitors. Despite himself, he feels that same union with his team, as well, celebrating the victories of every passing team in the Pentathlon.

Weakness. Human connection. One that he can work in his favor, a flaw to exploit.

That’s what he pretends the victorious feeling in his chest means while they return to the dorms, but even he can’t deny the high of winning as a team. His sabotage had only made it more delicious that they all made it out alive, and the adrenaline still buzzes in his veins, better than any glass of whiskey.

Your hands fidget nervously as you stare at the player count, wondering how much longer it could be before you find out if Young-il, Gi-hun, and player 222 made it out alive. The bed you sit on is closest to the open concrete floor, and you feel on edge, ready to jump and run at a moment’s notice. The rest of your team is more tucked into the tighter enclosure the bunkbeds make, conversing about the games. Where are they?

“Hey,” player 120 says, her voice soft and assuring, calling for your attention. “132. You surprised me out there. It was really… impressive, honestly. You sure you’ve never played Spinning Top before?”

You look over, smiling faintly, your leg jittering as it bounces in place. “I’ve never played it. Well - in America, we have tops, but you just spin it from the axle. No twine. I guess I just… had a good teacher.”

007 laughs, but covers it quickly with a cough. His mother whacks him on the chest, then turns to you with kind eyes. “Are you and player 001 close? He doesn’t seem like the… helping sort.”

You tilt your head, surprised by the observation. But you can understand it - when Young-il isn’t engaged in conversation, he shows little to no emotion, carries a coldness that seems impenetrable. “We’ve talked,” you say vaguely. “He promised to help me with any games that I don’t quite understand. Since I wasn’t raised here.” You clear your throat, feeling oddly embarrassed, like you’re admitting to some deep secret crush, even though you’ve done nothing of the sort. “What are your guys’ names? So I have something to call you besides a detached number.”

The group goes around sharing names, and you commit them to memory. Whatever the outcome of these games, you refuse to forget any of them. Perhaps it would be too big of a burden to remember everyone’s name who’s already died, would haunt you until your own end, but it feels like a bigger sin to not know at all.

Light discussion starts, easy joking, but you can’t focus, your eyes flicking from the group to the door as you wait endlessly. Where are they?

When his team returns to the dorms, In-ho’s eyes instantly find you, a locked missile on target. You’re sitting near your team, but still separate, disengaged. Another curiosity - despite your disposition, and your apparent friendly nature, you keep yourself apart. Perhaps you recognize the truth he’s accepted long ago - despite any kinship one might feel with a person, or a group, everyone is on their own at the end of the day. Family, friends, coworkers, passing acquaintances, they all fall away to serve their own needs. It takes you less than a second to meet his eyes, and his stomach clenches at the way you instantly relax, sheer relief etched into the line of your posture. He’s not foolish enough to assign his own reaction to unease.

He gives you the tentative smile that Young-il would give, but his eyes are dark. Whatever cocktail you stir inside him, he knows that your own reaction to him is much simpler. Attraction, maybe. Comfort, certainly. Why him, of all people, instead of Gi-hun, or that player, 120, that you’d spoken to before, he can’t begin to comprehend. Is his mask that good, his performance so inviting? No, it’s not quite that. He needs to dig into your mind, unravel the knots into understanding. Perhaps the knots are his own.

He follows his team with a sense of purpose, duty, forcing himself to look away and your warm, relieved smile, that churning in his mind feeling so out of place in the typically still waters of his mind. As they sit, he shakes his head, focusing on the group, his team.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t know what happened,” he says, infusing a sheepish embarrassment into his words, his hands clenching the metal of the bench as his shoulders tuck forward.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dae-ho says quickly, his voice overlapping with Gi-hun’s own assurance.

“What happened earlier?”

In-ho’s spine straightens on instinct at the sound of your voice, and he forces himself to relax, looking up, oddly surprised to see you step up to their group. He shouldn’t be. His eyes trace over you, as if checking for wounds, even though he saw you escape earlier entirely unscathed. Your hair is a bit messy, the grease of not showering settling in, and your hands are shoved into your pockets, an infused nonchalance to the posture. You make a concerted effort to look at everyone in the group before your eyes land on In-ho.

His mouth goes dry.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Jung-bae says with a small grin, always playful and easing the tension. “Big bad number one over here just struggled on his game. We made it out, though! So nothing to worry about.”

“If he hadn’t helped me in Jegi with the final kick, we never would’ve made it,” Gi-hun adds, a trace of his old smile on his lips, trying to comfort whatever tension in him that he’s sensing.

Your eyes narrow, searching In-ho, in a different manner than he just analyzed you. Like you know something. That intelligence you hide behind easy smiles flashes in full force, but then it’s gone, any concerns or comments you had not even reaching your throat. “I’m glad you all made it,” you say finally, smiling, and your eyes flick to player 222. “Especially you.”

She meets your gaze, a quiet appreciation in her expression. She nods her head slightly, unable to express her true gratitude, and that’s another thing that In-ho doesn’t wish to think about. The pregnant player. Another barnacle on the world’s ship, but perhaps the way he closed off his feelings after the passing of his wife had left some backdoors open for unwanted sympathy. He refuses to wonder about what the outcome would be if his wife had entered the games instead of him, refuses to imagine her in this place, founded on cruelty and equality.

She would have died either way. There’s no reason to wonder, to feel the sick twist in his gut.

In-ho rocks in place, unable to tell if it’s the surge of his own undesired emotions or the act of Young-il that causes it. “222, are you doing alright?” he asks, but doesn’t care. He doesn’t.

“Yeah. Thank you all for including me on your team,” she replies with a slight bow of her head, and In-ho catches a soft smile on your lips, likely comforted by the fact that you genuinely helped her.

“She smashed that ddakji and flipped it on her first try!” Jung-bae adds, grinning. 222 ducks her head, hiding a proud smile. “And for a pregnant lady, you were fast, too. We were lucky she joined our team.” His eyes flick to you, and In-ho clenches his jaw briefly. There’s too much ease in Jung-bae’s words, in every conversation, and he finds it grating - both with Gi-hun and you. In-ho’s eyes flick to Gi-hun, his own expression dry of any emotion or reaction.

Gi-hun is already looking at you.

He hadn’t heard the conversation the two of you had last night, too far away at the time, but he had watched. Observed. Even not knowing what passed between the pair, he knew that some sort of understanding had been reached, that you hadn’t taken your eyes off him for a moment.

That earlier, when you brought the pregnant woman to his team, you’d looked at Gi-hun first.

The conversation continues, and In-ho laughs in all the right moments, in the bond over the victory, but he keeps you in his line of vision. When Dae-ho stands next to you, his eyes land on the distance between you both, a sour feeling in his gut, like bile.

“Perhaps we should learn each other’s names. I still don’t know any of your names. I’ll start.” He gives his name, and its meaning. Huge tiger. In-ho suppresses a laugh - which is an odd feeling. Laughter doesn’t come easily to him anymore, and fighting to keep it down is unfamiliar. Jung-bae gives his next, because of course he does.

When player 222 offers hers - Kim Jun-hee, a name that instantly gets engraved in his mind - he can’t seem to help the words bubbling from his lips. “Jun-hee, when we get out of here, you should head straight to a hospital. You’ve been under a lot of stress. You need to get yourself checked out.”

“Okay,” she replies softly.

“I’m Oh Young-il,” In-ho adds, tossing his false name into the ring. Amusement rises in his chest - it’s likely that no one will look too closely at his name, or assume he’s lying, but he’d been rather proud of the joke of it all. Right down to the last detail, of taking Il-nam’s family name. Flying right under Gi-hun’s nose.

“Young-il?” Jung-bae repeats, arching a brow.

“Yes. ‘Young-il’ sounds like ‘zero one,’ and that’s my number,” he explains with a playful smile, his finger pointing to the patch on his chest. His eyes meet yours, catching the way they narrow. It would make sense that you hadn’t put the pun together yourself, and he gets the cold feeling that you’re suspicious of him. You, of all people. It isn’t that you come off as naive, but you had trusted him so easily last night, allowing him to sit with his hand in your hair as you fell asleep. He had assumed you didn’t see through his manipulations, the strings he pulled in the world of these games.

The group shares a laugh over his name, but not you. You arch a brow, smiling, but with that sharp look in your eyes. “The gamemakers must have a sense of humor,” you murmur wryly, but that coldness spreads in his body. Everyone else chuckles, but In-ho knows there’s more to your statement.

And he realizes there might be even more to you than he thought.

“And you?” he asks quickly, looking to Gi-hun. “Your full name, I mean. I only know you as Gi-hun.” Another lie, so little in comparison to the rest.

“Oh, right, um… Seong Gi-hun is my full name,” he replies quietly, eyes flicking between In-ho and you. Curious.

“Seong - that literally means last name, doesn’t it?” he asks, feeling almost nervous. It’s not the right word, but the strange tightness in his chest can’t seem to be described any other way. He laughs, his chuckles rolling off him through the anxious energy, at his own bad joke.

Nobody else laughs, but there’s a flicker of amusement in your expression. “Like our ‘un-Seong hero’?” you add, voice laced with humor as you speak in English for the first time in his presence. He laughs harder, not expecting the cheesy joke from your lips, and you laugh too.

Such a delightful sound. Something bright and sweet, like the sky on a cloudless day in a past that’s long gone. There’s a couple chuckles in the group, but nobody laughs as much as the two of you do. Somehow, you make him feel like Young-il, the man he used to be, and In-ho, the man he’s become, the man he’s always been underneath it all.

The doors open, guards filing in, and the joviality of the room quiets, stills. Any small relief that the groups have managed to find after escaping the last game with their lives dissipates. You tear your eyes away from Young-il, your mind churning, twisting over the information, but it’s hard to stay focused on his potential deceptions with the gut-dropping recognition of the button being wheeled in.

“Congratulations to all of you for making it through the second game.” The head guard stands in the center of the group of pink-clad soldiers, the rigid square on his face an indicator of his rank. The lights turn off, the now-familiar glow of golden light shining down on them as the pig takes the spotlight above their heads. “Here are the results of the second game. In the second game, 110 players were eliminated.” The familiar chiptune plays as the bank above everyone's head fills with bundles of won, counting the bodies that had been bloodily removed from the schoolyard scene of the last game. “The prize money accumulated up to this point is 20.1 billion won. Since there are 255 players remaining, each person’s share is 78,823,530 won.”

Uproar. People start shouting out complaints, the ‘O's growing restless at the realization that even with so many dead, the split of the prize pool isn't enough. Even for you, that amount isn’t enough to settle your father’s debts and pay his medical bills.

In-ho has to hide a smirk, even as something inside him clenches. Just as expected, desperate greed wins over the lives of the people whose blood invisibly stains the prize pool. He eyes Gi-hun, who stares around the room, cataloguing the people complaining with barely disguised loathing. Gi-hun, who has never been able to look past the cost of all that money to see the freedom it grants. In-ho can hardly judge. He’s barely touched his own money, after all.

“I completely understand your disappointment. However, we always keep the door open for you to pursue new opportunities. You will now take a vote to decide whether to continue the games or not. Whether to continue the games for a bigger prize or to stop here is entirely your choice. Please feel free to exercise your right to choose in a democratic manner.” The guard’s voice is clinical, rehearsed, and a sick feeling twists at your gut. Just how many games have there been? How many times has he said these exact words?

And the implication slams into you, the easy manipulation of the words. The vote hasn’t even happened yet, and you already know the outcome. Desperation, self-preservation. Nobody is leaving the games today.

“I should go,” you say softly, as the crowd accumulates at the edge of the glowing ‘X’ and ‘O’ separation on the ground. You give a slight bow of your head, turning to leave, feeling displaced, uneasy.

“Wait, (Y/N),” Gi-hun says, halting you in your tracks. Your eyes flick to him, widening. “Stick with our team. You said you, uh, you wanted to fight by… by our side, last night, didn’t you?”

Lips parting, you can’t seem to take your eyes off his face. That wasn’t quite what you said, but based on his shifty expression, he knows that. You said you wanted to fight by his side. The invitation still surprises you, but underneath that surprise is a warmth at being included, at him asking you to stay. You nod, smiling a little. “I would appreciate that, thank you. And, if it’s at all possible, if… if we end up staying for another game, I’d like for us to try and keep an eye out for the team that kept me alive today.” If. You don’t want to crush their spirits with the foresight you currently hold.

Gi-hun’s eyes soften, smiling just a little, but it feels like a victory. You find yourself craving more of that smile, to see the full force that used to come easily to him, if the lines of his face are anything to go by. “We’ll do our best,” he replies, his voice just as soft as those eyes. He must be a very kind man. You get a little lost, looking at him, at the lingering cloak of who he once was. "We have to end the games here,” he adds, turning to the group. “I will help you all with my winnings from the first game when we get out. Please trust me, and vote to leave.”

“Don’t worry,” Young-il adds, eyes locked on Gi-hun. “I want to stop here too. I should go.”

“Yeah,” Gi-hun says, his eyes softening as he looks back at Young-il. “You should be with your wife at the hospital.”

And then you freeze. Wife. Your lips stay closed, but your eyes widen a fraction, feeling a horrible sense of disappointment that takes you by surprise. It shouldn’t be shocking, you should have suspected it, seen the train coming at you full force. He’s twice your age, it makes sense for him to be married - hell, Gi-hun probably has a wife too.

Young-il’s frozen too, and his eyes slowly slide to meet yours from the side. His expression is unreadable, and he doesn’t respond for a moment, his lips parting. Then he looks back at Gi-hun, giving a smile that seems a little tight around the edges. “I’ve been away too long,” he responds quietly, agreeing.

The group chatters, quickly agreeing to all vote to leave. Deep in your gut, you know it’s not enough. But you’re not thinking about that, not in this moment. You’re thinking about Young-il’s hands on yours, guiding you through the motions of spinning an invisible top. You’re thinking about him cradling you to his chest, of the details of his face that you don’t dare to look at now. And you come to the realization that you’re well and truly fucked.

“Guys, all huddle up again,” Dae-ho calls, drawing your attention to him. He’s much easier to focus on than Young-il or Gi-hun. He juts his hand out, arm rigid and straight, into the center of the group. Everyone lays their hands on Dae-ho’s, and you hesitate, before setting yours down last. It’s strange, being a part of a group. “In one, two, three. Victory at all costs!”

“Victoryat all costs!” You all call back.

The voting is in reverse order, this time. Young-il doesn’t hesitate before pressing the ‘X’, but there are a few surprises - namely, two of your old teammates pressing ‘O’. But you can’t blame them. Even with Gi-hun’s offer to pay off your group’s debts, you don’t know what to pick. Hyun-ju hasn’t received that same offer, nor has Young-sik.

Player after player gets called up, but it’s obvious early on that your vote alone won’t matter. Even if every ‘O’ on your team switches, even if Young-sik and Hyun-ju had voted differently, it wouldn’t be enough.

“Player 132.”

Your body trembles, but your feet move automatically, not sparing a glance for Gi-hun or Young-il. When you reach the buttons, you stare down at the glowing red and blue domes, unblinking. It doesn’t matter, does it? What button you press? You already know the outcome. You feel a horrible guilt at the idea of taking Gi-hun’s money, just another stack soaked in blood. The money floating above you may be no different, but at least it’s from your competition - the cost of your own survival, not his.

You press ‘X’. It won’t be a close vote, not by a longshot, so your ‘X’ serves no purpose other than to prove to Gi-hun that you stand with him. Your mind is still detached as you step to the red side, standing next to Young-il but refusing to look at him.

He leans closer to you, heat prickling at your skin from his proximity. “(Y/N),” he murmurs. You bite the inside of your cheek, not reacting. You feel ridiculous, like the little kid you haven’t been in so many years right now, crushing on a married guy. It isn’t his fault. Maybe he felt protective of you, just because you’re only in your 20s. He never actually did anything untoward.

His hand in your hair, stroking it until you fell asleep. Comforting, safe, but not wrong.

The blue crowd cheers on their side - another recruit to continue the games. He sighs softly, settling a hand on your arm. Your body jolts, despite yourself, a zing running through you, your eyes flicking up to meet his despite yourself. “I–”

“Excuse me, everyone!” Gi-hun’s voice rings out across the room, taking command of it. Your breath catches, head turning to stare at him as he walks toward the center. Ever since the first game, he’s been magnetic, unignorable. Young-il’s hand tightens on your arm, then drops, and he suddenly steps forward before Gi-hun can make it to the open space.

“Are you all out of your minds?” Young-il shouts, sending a shiver through you. Your eyes flick to him, stunned. “You still want to keep going after watching all those people die? Who’s to say you won’t die in the next game? We have to stop. We’ll all die if we keep going! Come to your senses, and leave with that money.”

You feel like you’re waiting for something - maybe the guards to step in, to shout that interruptions to the voting process aren’t allowed, for one of them to press a gun to Young-il’s head. But it doesn’t come.

Players from the ‘O’ side step up to argue, including the detestable player 100. But your eyes drift back to Gi-hun, watching him watch Young-il. Touched isn’t the right word, but Young-il joining him in protesting the continuation of these sadistic games definitely affects him. Gi-hun’s eyes are huge, relieved, to not be fighting for this alone. Awe doesn’t fit any better, but it’s the only thing your mind comes up with.

“If we play one more game, the prize will be at least 240 million!”

For some reason you cannot decipher, it’s Gi-hun’s expression that pushes you to step forward, into the aisle. “And if you die?” you say, your words sharp, eyes flicking to player 043, who had just spoken. “Almost a third of the players died in this last game. What makes you think you’re special enough to make it out? You’re all cowards, just hoping as many people as possible die. You’re not fucking invincible - everyone here has the same odds of getting out. Do you feel so lucky? There’s 255 of us left - if another 110 die, that’s almost half of us. 50/50 odds - a coin flip. Heads, you win - tails, you’re gone forever, and you’ll be the one who dug that grave.”

Silence, for just a moment. Then, player 095 - Young-mi, you remind yourself, Young-mi - sobs, tears streaming down her face, pleading with the other players to not continue these games. Pity wrenches through your gut, and again, you wonder what someone so fragile could have done to end up here. How she ever called the number on that business card after being slapped by the recruiter. You find yourself unable to look at her, your eyes finding Gi-hun’s once more. Something akin to dread builds in his expression, but there’s a quiet gratitude laying under the surface.

Young-il steps between you two, eyes locking on yours for just a moment before scanning the crowded ‘O’ side.

“If you die here, your family won’t even get your body. Then it’d be the end for you and your family! Don’t you see?” Young-il shouts, but the ‘O’s are beyond hearing. Their arguments are solid enough, but they refuse to acknowledge on thing - that every single one of them is praying that as many people as possible will die, besides themselves. It doesn’t take long for them to start up a chant, mob mentality kicking in, spreading like an airborne virus.

“One more game! One more game!”

A chill runs through you. Those words were exactly what you had thought during the first vote. One more. Just one more.

The vote continues, digital numbers climbing higher and higher, and you can’t bear to watch. Knowing the way something ends is much different from watching it all happen. Will you survive one more? And what about the one after that? There’s little chance that the vote will turn back to your team’s favor - at least, not while player 100 is alive. 10 billion won owed… that man won’t rest until there’s at least only four players left, splitting the prize into 11.4 billion per person.

Gi-hun’s posture is slumped in the glow of his red vote, and your heart aches for him. He’s a good man, you know it deep in your soul. How a man like that could possibly win such cruel games is beyond you. And to be the only one to make it out alive…

Your feet take you to his side before your mind catches up. “Gi-hun,” you murmur, your hand grabbing his wrist. He goes still, statuesque, but you persist. “Please, can we… can we talk?”

A few breaths pass, but he nods, turning to you, his wrist slipping from your hand. He looks down at his arm, then his eyes meet yours. He feels… strange. It’s the same tightness in his chest as he felt earlier, when you approached his team with Jun-hee in tow. There was no guarantee that his team would do better than any other, especially since he hadn’t known the game going in. But the look in your eyes as they met his, a desperate edge to them, but not desperate on your own behalf… it had stunned him into silence. He wasn’t able to speak. It wasn’t the desperation, but the sheer trust that affected him so. You had trusted him with two lives, neither one of them your own. He’s not worthy of that trust. Every life that has been entrusted to his care, with the exception of two, has met a violent end. Both you and Young-il, so firm in your belief of him. He wants to apologize now, for not speaking up when you asked for his help. But what could he say? He can’t explain his reaction, the stunned twist of his chest the way he’d been trapped in your gaze. The way his mind had fit the puzzle pieces into place to paint a clear picture of his understanding of your character.

Your eyes are wide, intense as they meet his. “What is it?” he asks quietly, his brows furrowing, his lips set in the frown he’s worn for years now. “Are you alright?”

You huff out a breath, nodding, the intensity never leaving your expression. “Yes, but… Well. I had a few questions,” you say slowly, your expression pinching, as though you’re holding something back.

“A few questions,” he repeats dumbly, rubbing at his wrist, still feeling the warmth of your hand. He hasn’t been touched, not gently, in years now. “About?”

You swallow, and his eyes follow the bob of your throat, chest seizing with that strange tightness. “About… about your games. If you don’t mind. I know it’s a hard subject, but… We need to plan ahead, to think more about how this will all play out.” He just gives you a blank stare. Faintly, he feels himself nod for you to continue. “At this point in the games, how… how many people were left, in yours?”

Gi-hun’s brows furrow, and he tries to think, beyond the blood splatters on the playground scene, beyond the sounds of gunshots, beyond his tongue desperately working to melt the sugar honeycomb candy. “About 100,” he says finally, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

“Oh, wow,” you mutter, eyes flicking up to the board. “So… 155 less than we have now. You really must have saved a lot of people this time around, interfering in that first game.”

His eyes squeeze shut for just a moment, remembering the weight of a body pinning him to the ground, after the first death caused a stampede of people attempting to escape. But… but you’re right. So many more people died in his first Red Light, Green Light game. “And?” he asks tiredly, rubbing his forehead, trying to focus on this room, not that giant field filled with blood. To not remember revisiting it later, when it was empty, with only one opponent. Sang-woo. He flinches, tries to cover it with a cough, but when his eyes meet yours, he can tell he wasn’t fooling you.

“Sorry, it’s just… Well, it’s impressive. You’ve given more people a chance, here.” You cross your arms, shoulders hunching up, but your eyes don’t leave his. “They said it was new, allowing the players to vote after every round. You didn’t have that choice?”

“No… well. If the players called a vote, and the majority decided to leave, then the money would be split among the deceased players’ families. None of the surviving players would get anything. My…” His jaw clenches on reflex, and he shakes his head. “One player called for a vote, after the first game.”

“And everyone chose to stay?” you ask, brow furrowing.

“No… no, actually. We all left. But they gave us the option to return. Most of us did,” he explains quietly, eyes flicking around the room, finding it hard to look at you as he answers the stream of questions, the tightness in his chest only growing.

You pause, taking that in, your breaths even beside him, almost meditative. He peers at you out of the corner of the eye, taking in the contemplative twist of your lips. “Why would they change the rule?” The question stuns him, and he doesn’t have an answer. If anything, it might be because of him. To prove a point. But that feels too self-important to say, to admit that the Front Man may be choosing to play a separate game with him at the cost of hundreds of lives. But you don’t wait for an answer, sucking in a quiet breath. “How many people made it to the final game?”

His eyes flutter shut. “Two. Is that all of your questions?” he asks, voice a bit too sharp, now. Raw emotions threaten to crash over the dam he’d built in his mind. Memories, he can handle. But they don’t exactly have therapy for the kind of trauma he went through, and every emotion goes unsorted.

Silence. Gi-hun opens his eyes, squinting at you, feeling oddly guilty. It’s not your fault, not really. But this isn’t a subject he’s spoken openly about, ever, and he feels like a stripped wire. “Yes, sir,” you mutter, arms tightening across your chest. “I’m just trying to figure out the best way to convince these people to leave. One of them needs 10 billion - that means he won’t rest until there’s only 4 players left. If not less. I’m sure the gamemakers will want to cut the number of players by more than half in the next game, to try and make the final games closer.”

His eyes slowly open more as you speak, surprised by the observations. They’d tickled at the back of his head, but he’d been operating on blind determination this entire time. Analysis has never been his strong suit, though admittedly he’s gotten better at it in the years since his own game. You remind him of…

He bites the inside of his cheek, almost hard enough to draw blood. “Yeah,” he agrees, his voice quieting to something softer. “You don’t need to call me sir,” and those words are just blurted out, spilling like a bowl of ramen after too much soju. It’s the last thing that he should have focused on, but it feels wrong, to have you call him something so impersonal. “I’m sorry for being short with you, it’s just that… I don’t speak about that time.” He reaches out, but aborts the motion halfway through, his hand hanging in the air. What the hell is wrong with him? “You say that you think they’ll try to cut the players by more than half?”

You nod, your eyes softening as you look up at him. “We need to keep our team together next round. To keep as many of us alive as we can, but also… because we’re the only votes that can be guaranteed to be ‘X’ next time.”

Resourceful and compassionate. Something inside him aches as he nods, feeling struck dumb. “You said you were a student, didn’t you?” he asks, eyes roaming over your features as you blink back at him.

“Uh… yeah, actually. I spend most of my time studying, to be entirely honest,” you admit, eyeing him curiously. “Why?”

The corners of his lips twist up, a gesture that feels unfamiliar in his life after becoming a billionaire. “Nothing. I can tell, though. I appreciate having your brain to work on this with me.” He pauses, tilting his head. “Is that why you’re here? Student loans?”

You stiffen, eyes widening a fraction, biting your lip. But you nod. “That, and to help my father,” you say vaguely. You have every right to play your cards close to your chest, but he wants them laid out bare, for him to study, learn, understand. The urge terrifies him.

He swallows past the lump in his throat, nodding. Your father. “You shouldn’t be the one bearing your father’s problems,” he mutters. A brief alternate future flashes through his eyes, one where Ga-yeong, as an adult, has to pay his gambling debts, one where he never entered the games. Guilt stabs through him. “What is it? Gambling?”

What he doesn’t expect is the way your expression darkens, your mouth twisting into a frown that doesn’t fit your face. “Housing debts. He hasn’t had a job in a while, and he was never good at holding one down to begin with. Maybe gambling - I haven’t asked.” Your face is pinched, your lips a distractingly cute shape, even in your upset. He feels a bit dizzy, actually, but he shakes it off, feeling an instant aversion for your father. Perhaps it’s because he reminds Gi-hun of who he used to be, who he still could’ve become. “He’s in the hospital,” you add in a hushed tone, but don’t elaborate. He doesn’t want to push you, but he feels a shocking wave of anger. You shouldn’t be here - although he believes that about every person in this room, that nobody deserves to end up in these games, it’s fiercer, more violent when it’s you. Sure, you likely have your own debts as a student, but your father’s incapability shouldn’t be the reason your life is on the line.

“So that’s why you voted to stay after the first game?” he asks, his voice insistent, intense. Angry.

Maybe you think he’s angry at you, because your eyes narrow. “Yes. But I voted ‘X’ this time, didn’t I? Why, is that a problem?”

“He shouldn’t be your responsibility. He should be taking care of you.”

“He’s my father,” you snap back, defensive. “He’s the only person I have in this country, the only parent I have left. I’m not–” You cut yourself off, eyes oddly shiny, and it takes him a moment to realize that you’re tearing up. His mouth opens, then clamps shut, his expression clearing itself of the white-hot anger he’d felt. His hand reaches out, taking your upper arm in his grasp. Right. Your father is in the hospital, and here he is, practically yelling at you for giving a damn, just because it made him uncomfortable to be speaking to someone on the other side of the situation he had been in years ago.

His own mother’s death sits in his chest, unresolved, clumsily compartmentalized along with every other horrible thing he’s had to deal with. The guilt of eternally letting her down, until the very end. Of not even being by her side in her last moments. Of Ga-yeong, thousands of miles away, and the way these games got in the way of everything and everyone he cared about.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, his eyes wide, flicking between your own.

Gi-hun hadn’t said anything that you hadn’t already crossed your mind. Your own guilt feels like lead in the pit of your stomach, Gi-hun’s words mirroring your worst thoughts. His apology stings, a slap to the face. Why should he be sorry? You feel sick. “Whatever, alright? It’s fine.” You rub at your eyes, at the tears that never fell. “We all have baggage.” Yours just happens to be a sick, indebted father, and a strained relationship with your dead mom. “I voted to leave, even though that money up there isn’t enough to cover it all. Whatever your baggage is, beyond these damn games, isn’t my fault, and you shouldn’t be taking it out on me.” Gi-hun just stares at you, wide-eyed, looking a little younger. Not by very much - but he looks like the man he might’ve been, before his first time in these games.

A thought bubbles up like a laugh, that it’s probably been a while since he was last scolded by a woman for hurting her feelings.

He presses his lips together, eyes darting to the side, and you realize, belatedly, that his hand is still warm on your arm. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, softer this time. “I told you, though, I’ll give you enough money to cover your debts. Your father’s, too.” He squeezes your shoulder, his other hand partially raised, almost in surrender.

You would laugh if that sentiment doesn’t twist the knife in deeper, despite being well-intentioned. “I already feel horrible enough, taking the blood money from this game,” you reply, voice tight. “I don’t know if I can handle your ghosts on top of my own.”

Gi-hun’s expression twists, but there’s a deep understanding in his eyes. “Please. If that money is good for anything, it’s helping people escape the same fate that others couldn’t.”

Your insides are churning, a befuddling mixture of guilt, pain, understanding, appreciation, and… something else, something you shove deep down. If your feelings for Young-il were misplaced, you refuse to make the same mistake twice. But something about Gi-hun tells you that he’s unmarried, unattached. A man with any kind of relationship in the outside world, filial or romantic, wouldn’t come back to a place like this.

“If we make it out,” you finally reply, your shoulders dropping, arms loosening. Gi-hun nods, his expression drawing in at the reminder. One more game. “I’m still with you, Gi-hun. I trust you.”

He smiles, just a little, and finally releases your shoulder, albeit hesitantly. There’s something strange in his eyes, stress or guilt or something more. As you finally walk away, you don’t let yourself wonder, don’t let yourself get caught up in frivolous emotions for a man who carries too much weight to ever let someone else lighten the load. And you pretend you don’t feel Young-il’s eyes watching you as you take a bed in the corner with Gi-hun’s group, choosing to lay down and stare at the mattress above you, trying not to think of anything at all.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

♡ ⁄ taglist: @pursued-by-the-squid @in-hos-wife @bloooooopblopblop <33333 @nellabear @gloriousjellyfisharcade @politicstanner @xcinnamonmalfoyx @beebeechaos @delfinadolphin @bbrainr0t @ineedazeezee @watasinekoru @solarpotato @nerdytif @speedymagazinewhispers @machipyun @dilfismz

#front man x reader #hwang in ho x reader #in ho x reader #in ho x you #the frontman x reader #gi hun x reader #gi hun x you #seong gi hun x reader #the frontman x you #front man x you #squid game fic #squid game fanfic #oh young il x reader #hwang in ho x you #young il x you #young il x reader

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gold-onthe-inside · 3 days ago

Text

a pearl

who? spencer reid (post-prison) x fem!reader based on: a pearl by mitski (and also pearl diver also by mitski) written for: @mggslover's event lyrics: “You’re growing tired of me. You love me so hard and I still can’t sleep/Sorry, I can’t take your touch. It’s not that I don’t want you.” word count: 0.9k content warnings: mentions cat adams, reference to addiction/drugs & sobriety

He stared at the flickering flame in the living room, knowing he’s left your sleeping frame upstairs, and rubbed the sobriety chip between his thumb and forefinger, and he remembers the moment he had fallen in love with your smile, a warm saccharine thing that had brightened your whole face when he tried to pull a coin from behind your ear, but it hadn’t worked, only for you to find it in your pockets. He hasn’t made you smile like that in a while. Not in 3 months, 20 days, and 14 hours. Not since Cat Adams had made it her mission to ruin his life, and yours along with him. This year had just been the tip of a long-building iceberg of issues that you kept having to put up with because of him.

And sure, things were okay now. His mom was in a good home in DC, always a call and a drive away. They had gotten his murder conviction overturned. He was supposed to be safe. Then why did he feel this uneasy all the time?

He’s so lost in himself, the firelight reflecting in his soft and worried hazel eyes, that he doesn’t hear you coming down the stairs, doesn’t see the cute donut pyjamas that usually make his heart melt, and physically flinches when you touch his shoulder, the chip in his hand falling to the floor. “Sorry,” you said instantly, “I didn’t mean to… You just weren’t in bed, I wanted to make sure you were—”

“I’m fine,” he said, a little too sharply, and usually, you’re better at controlling your expressions, but it’s 2 in the morning and you’re tired, so the concern is visible on your sleepy face.

“Honey, you don’t seem fine,” you said softly, approaching him like he was a skittish horse.

He let out a breath, bending down to pick up the sobriety token, while you wait and watch him straighten. “Can we not do this right now?” he asked, sounding tired, and he can see your concern deepen, adding another wrinkle to your brow, the corners of your lips turning down. He can see the battle that rages inside you every day, every time he acts like this — do you confront him? Do you put your foot down like you had all those years ago when he was coming to work while in withdrawal? What would it take for you to finally retaliate?

“Okay,” you said, in your gentle but firm way, looking at him evenly. “Two choices. We sit here and talk, or you come back upstairs with me and get some sleep. Either way, I’m not going back up without you.” Your arms come up to cross against your chest in what you think is a firm, decisive position to take, but Spencer’s sorely tempted to smile at you, and then his heart sinks all over again. It must have come up on his face because your arms start to fall and you walked over to pull him to sit next to you on the couch. “Sweetheart, will you please just tell me what’s going on with you?” you asked, and you think your heart might crawl out of your throat when Spencer pulled his hands away from yours.

“It’s nothing,” he said, and you can see his body closing off, all your work to bring him out of his shell, to coax him into the sunlight, vanishing like smoke. “Everything’s, you know, it’s fine. The team’s fine, my mom’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Which means it’s only a matter of time before things aren’t fine again,” you said, tilting your head to meet his eyes. “Right?” You’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t felt it too — the panic in the middle of the night when he’s not there, the reminder you have to give yourself that he’s not in prison anymore, that he’s safe.

“I’m so tired,” he told you, his eyes falling to your hands, where you were gripping each other for fear of reaching out to him again. He was tired of waiting to get the phone call saying his mom was gone. Tired of the nightmares. Tired of feeling afraid in a house that was supposed to be his refuge.

“Sweetheart, you can’t rest when your body still thinks it’s on the run,” you told him gently.

“Then how do I get it to stop?” he asked you, a hint of desperation rising into his throat, causing his words come out more broken and shaky than he meant for them to, and it just made his chest ache more.

You leaned closer, pressing your forehead against his and cupping his cheek, feeling the light stubble on his jaw. "Stay here," you whispered. "In this moment. You and me. Nothing else."

“In this moment,” he echoed, his voice soft and quiet, barely more than a whisper. “You and me, and nothing else.” A hint of a smile spread across his lips, and you pressed a butterfly kiss to the corner before laying your head on his shoulder while he slid his arms around your waist. You don’t move, just eventually shift so you can both lay on the couch, the fire dying out into embers as he finally fell asleep to the rise and fall of your chest.

#lover's 1k event #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/m #spencer reid fic

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caracalla-dondus · 2 days ago

Text

Suspicious Minds

Pairing: Emperor Geta/wife!reader

Summary: A senator informs Geta about the rumors surrounding his wife

Author's Note: This fic consists of pieces I took out from a much longer fic I had written. After reading what I originally wrote I didn't really vibe with the whole thing and so I took out parts I liked best to create this fic. Idk if it's better or worse because things feel a bit rushed in this fic now and not as cohesive as before but it's good enough I think ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I was partly inspired by Fire & Blood where it says that some in court found Queen Rhaenys Targaryen suspicious because she spent time with bards and singers and they were sure she must be having an affair on Aegon I. Also the title is from the Elvis song of the same name because it popped into my head while writing this because it's similar to the plot lol.

~~~

The late afternoon sun streamed through the marble arches of the palace, casting shadows across the floor of the Emperor’s private chamber. Emperor Geta paced restlessly, his jaw clenched tight, his fingers twitching. The rumors had come to him this morning, carried by a senator whose words had been carefully chosen, yet laced with venom.

“She is often seen in the company of poets and bards, my Emperor. Some say perhaps too often.”

The words echoed in Geta’s mind as he strode to the balcony. Below him, others strolled about, oblivious to the storm brewing in his heart. He had always known that his wife had a fondness for the arts. It was one of the things that had drawn him to her. The way her eyes lit up when she heard the verses of a poem she thought was interesting, the soft smile that graced her lips during the final notes of a ballad. She was a woman of intelligence and charm. Perfect qualities to be his empress.

But now those very same qualities and interests had become the source of his unrest.

Geta finds his wife out in the garden. “I had hoped to speak with you my wife,” he said, his tone polite but firm.

“What troubles you, my love?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she stepped closer to him.

Geta studied her, his gaze lingering on her face, searching for some sign of guilt. But she looked as she always did, serene, composed, and beautiful. “There are whispers in the court,” he began slowly, “that your affection for music and poetry has extended beyond mere appreciation.”

His wife’s eyes widened, and then she laughed softly, a sound like the chiming of bells. “Surely you don’t believe such nonsense.”

“I don’t want to,” Geta admitted, his voice low. “But the court is not kind to a woman who spends her days surrounded by other men, no matter how innocent her intentions.”

Her smile faded, and she placed a hand on his arm. “Geta, these men are poets, musicians and artists. They speak to me about the soul, not the flesh. My heart belongs to you, and only you.”

He wanted to believe her. He needed to believe her. But the thought of her laughter, her attention, her admiration being bestowed on another man gnawed at him. “Then why do others speak of you so?” he demanded, his voice rising slightly. “Why do they say you adore Bacchus so much that you have embraced his indulgences?”

His wife stiffened, her hand falling away. “Do you question my virtue?” she asked, insulted that her husband would believe such nonsense about her.

“I question the company you keep!” he snapped, the words sharper than he intended.

She took a step back, her expression conveying her hurt and frustration. “You have always known who I am Geta. I am not a woman content to sit idly in the palace, just simply gossiping my day away. I find joy in the divine chaos of creation. If that makes me suspicious in the eyes of our court then so be it. But I will not apologize for things I did not do.”

Her words hung in the air between them, heavy with emotion. Geta clenched his fists, his anger warring with his love for her. Finally he spoke, his voice softer. “I do not wish to stifle you. But I cannot bear the thought of others questioning your loyalty or your love for me.”

His wife stepped closer, her gaze steady. “Then let me reassure you, my emperor. I am as sure of my love for you as I am about Sol bringing us the sun each morning. But if you doubt me, then tell me what must I do to prove myself?”

He sighed, reaching out to cup her face in his hands. “Stay with me tonight,” he murmured. “Let the poets and bards sing their songs without you for once. Let Bacchus have his revelry elsewhere.”

She smiled faintly, leaning into his touch. “If it will ease your mind, my dear husband then I will stay.”

Geta pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if to shield her from the whispers that sought to undermine them. But even as he held her, a shadow of doubt lingered, refusing to be banished entirely.

The grand halls of the palace echoed with the click of her delicate sandals against the marble floor. The weight of her husband’s arm on her shoulder was both reassuring and suffocating. For the past three days, Geta had not let her out of his sight. Where she went, he followed. Where he could not follow, he sent his guards to watch her every step. It was unlike him, and though his paranoia was silent, she could feel it in the way his fingers tightened around her arm, in the watchful, almost desperate glint in his eyes.

She had tried to comfort him, tried to reassure him of her loyalty, but it seemed no words could pierce through the suspicion that had taken hold of him.

During a feast, Geta watched his wife like a hawk as she entertained a visiting nobleman whose son had written a collection of poems. His wife listened to the man intently, her soft smile never wavering as the man recited a verse.

But Geta saw something else. He saw how the man’s eyes lingered on her, how her laughter seemed to light up the room. His fingers dug into the armrests of his chair, his jaw tightening. Was it admiration? Was it mere courtesy? Or was there something more? The thoughts churned in his mind like a storm, dark and unrelenting.

When the man left, Geta wasted no time. He rose abruptly, crossing the room to where his wife stood.

“You enjoyed his company,” he said, his voice low but laced with accusation.

His wife blinked, startled by his tone. “He was reciting his son’s poetry, my dear husband. That’s all it was.”

“You smiled at him,” Geta pressed, his eyes narrowing. “You laughed.”

“Am I not allowed to smile and laugh?” she asked softly, though there was a tinge of frustration in her voice. “Must I always wear a sour expression to please you?”

His hand shot out, gripping her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “You are mine,” he said, his voice trembling - not with anger, but with something deeper, something more fragile. “Your smiles, your laughter, they belong to me and no one else.”

Her eyes softened as she saw the flicker of insecurity behind his harsh words. She reached up, covering his hand with her own. “And they are yours, Geta,” she murmured. “Only yours.”

His grip loosened, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if afraid she might vanish. “I will not lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I cannot.”

For the next several days, Geta’s wife’s world shrank. Where she once wandered the gardens freely, now her husband walked beside her, his hand resting possessively on her waist. When she visited the library, he went with her. Her gatherings with poets and musicians were no more, replaced by dinners where Geta sat her beside him, his eyes never leaving her.

She tried to be understanding, but his constant scrutiny weighed heavily on her. One evening, as they sat together in their chambers, she finally spoke.

“Geta,” she began, her voice tentative. “Do you not trust me?”

He looked up from the goblet of wine in his hand, his expression guarded. “Of course I trust you, you are my wife,” he said after a long pause. “It is everyone else I do not trust.”

“You cannot keep watch over me forever,” she said.

His jaw tightened. “You are my wife,” he said firmly. “My empress. And I will not risk anyone else taking you from me.”

“Even if it means suffocating me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Geta flinched, as if her words had struck him. He set the goblet down and rose to his feet, pacing the room. “You do not understand,” he said, his voice low and strained. “I have enemies everywhere. We have enemies everywhere. They would use you against me. They would take you from me. Take your love away from me”

“Who could take me when I am yours in both heart and soul?” she asked, rising to stand before him.

He stopped, his gaze meeting hers. For a moment, he looked like a man on the edge of breaking, his carefully constructed armor of intimidation cracking to reveal the fear beneath. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “But the thought of losing you terrifies me.”

She reached out, cupping his face in her hands. “Geta,” she said softly, “you will not lose me. I love you.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “Promise me,” he whispered. “Promise me you will never leave me.”

“I promise,” she said, though her heart ached at the desperation in his voice.

He pulled her into his arms again, holding her as if his life depended on it. She sighed softly, resting her head against his chest. She understood that his possessiveness was not born of cruelty, nor out of a need to stifle her but it was of a fear he could not truly voice, a fear he could not truly reconcile with, and it had consumed him.

And so she stayed, tethered to him by her love for him, hoping that soon his insecurities would ease and he would see that she was his, not because he demanded it, but because she chose it. But she was not sure how much she could take of this suffocating behavior. Of every move of hers and every interaction being heavily watched.

She rarely let her frustrations boil to the surface, but this time was different. As she sat across from her husband in their private chambers, the weight of the senator’s venomous words and their impact on her marriage gnawed at her patience. For days and days now, Geta’s suffocating possessiveness had taken over every aspect of her life, and she could no longer bear the thought that this rift between them had been instigated by a man seeking to undermine her, a man seeking to replace her.

She set down her goblet with a sharp clink, her hands trembling, not with fear, but with barely restrained annoyance and anger. “I’ve been thinking, my dear husband,” she began, her voice calm but carrying an obvious edge to it.

Geta glanced up from his seat, his brow furrowing slightly at her tone. “What is it?”

She met his gaze, her eyes blazing with uncharacteristic determination. “The senator who came to you with these baseless rumors. I believe he must be punished.”

Geta blinked, clearly surprised. “Punished? For what?”

“For daring to speak against me,” she replied, her voice firm, slightly exasperated that he did not already know what she spoke of. “For poisoning your mind with lies and causing this… this chaos between us. He sought to undermine your confidence in me, to cast doubt on my loyalty, to possibly destroy my reputation. That is not something we should let go unanswered.”

Geta leaned back in his chair, studying her intently. “You surprise me, wife. I thought you were above petty revenge. You have always counseled me against such rash decisions before”

“This is not petty, nor is it rash!” she shot back, her tone sharpening. “He sought to disgrace me, your wife, your empress. By doing so, he has disgraced you as well. How can you tolerate such audacity?”

Her words struck a nerve. Geta’s insecurities flared, his mind racing as he considered her argument. She was right. The senator’s insinuations had not only called his wife’s loyalty into question but had also implied that Geta was a weak ruler, unable to control his own household. The thought made his blood boil.

“What would you have me do?” he asked, his voice low.

“Demote him. Remove him from his position. Let it be known that you will not tolerate slander against your Empress.”

Geta narrowed his eyes. “And if others see this as an act of weakness? A sign that I am blinded by my love for you?”

“Let them see it as a warning,” she countered. “Let them know that your loyalty to your wife is unwavering and that you will not allow anyone to sow baseless discord in your court.”

Her words appealed to Geta’s pride, and she could see the gears turning in his mind. After a long silence, he nodded slowly. “Very well. The senator will be dealt with. I’ll ensure his removal will be public and soon.”

Relief washed over her, though a part of her felt dissatisfied about simply just having the senator removed from his position. The senator had meddled in her marriage, made her husband watch every move she made for days now, and he deserved to face more severe consequences for it. The senator has a daughter around her age, she felt certain the senator was likely hoping to get her pushed aside to potentially make way for his daughter to get close to Geta, for her to be the next Empress of Rome. Geta’s wife seethed silently at the thought of someone replacing her, of someone attempting to steal her position. She thought about paying Caracalla a visit and informing him of the treacherous senator in their midst. He would certainly give her the dramatic reaction she wants.

Geta rose from his seat, crossing the room to stand before her. He cupped her face in his hands, his gaze softening. “You are right. I should never have allowed his words to poison my mind. You are my empress, my wife. No one will come between us again”

She smiled faintly, leaning into his touch and calming for a moment. “And I will always stand by your side Geta. But we must stand together, against anyone who seeks to divide us.”

Geta kissed her then, fierce and possessive, as if to reaffirm their bond. She let herself melt into the embrace, even as a small voice in the back of her mind wondered if she should push for more to be done about the senator.

~~~~

reader can't take out her frustrations on Geta so she will take it out on the senator who started all of this instead lol

#emperor Geta x reader #Geta x reader #emperor Geta x you #gladiator 2 #gladiator fanfiction #gladiator x reader

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woso-story · 3 days ago

Text

Safe In Her Arms

Alexia Putellas x Reader

The sun was shining through the curtains, golden rays warming the room, but you hardly noticed. You sat curled up on your couch, hugging a cushion close to your chest, staring at nothing in particular. The thoughts in your mind were overwhelming, waves of pain and fear washing over you, pulling you under no matter how much you tried to fight them.

The past wasn’t something you wanted to remember. Most days, you managed to keep it locked away, hidden deep where no one could find it—not even yourself. But today was different. The memories were insistent, creeping into your mind like shadows, making your chest feel impossibly heavy.

You didn’t hear the knock at the door. You didn’t hear the soft click of the spare key turning in the lock, or the familiar sound of her footsteps as she entered your apartment.

“Cariño?” Alexia’s voice broke through the silence, soft and full of concern. She closed the door behind her, placing her bag gently on the floor. Her hazel eyes scanned the room, landing on you, sitting motionless on the couch.

You didn’t respond.

She approached cautiously, sensing that something was wrong. Sitting beside you, she reached out and gently placed a hand on your arm.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Are you okay?”

Her touch startled you, and you flinched, pulling away as if you’d been burned. Your wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto hers, the panic and pain in them unmistakable.

Alexia’s brows furrowed, her heart aching at the sight of you like this. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice steady but tinged with worry. “What happened?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. The weight of your emotions was too much, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face. You turned away, unable to meet her gaze, and stood up abruptly, pacing the room with your arms wrapped tightly around yourself.

“She’s going to leave,” you mumbled under your breath, your voice shaky and filled with despair. “She’s going to realize I’m broken. That I can’t give her what she wants. She deserves better, so much better…”

Alexia’s eyes followed you as you paced back and forth, your words breaking her heart. She had never seen you like this before—so vulnerable, so overwhelmed. She stood, approaching you slowly, as if afraid that one wrong move might make you retreat even further.

“Amor, stop,” she said gently, stepping in front of you. Her voice was calm, but firm enough to get your attention. She placed her hands lightly on your shoulders, her touch steady but not overbearing. “Come sit with me. Please.”

You hesitated, but the sincerity in her eyes made it impossible to refuse. She guided you back to the couch, sitting close enough to be a comfort but giving you space to breathe. She disappeared briefly and returned with a glass of water and a box of tissues, placing them on the table in front of you.

“Take your time,” she said softly, her voice as steady as a rock. “I’m here.”

You stared down at the water in your hands, your thoughts racing. You wanted to tell her everything, but the fear was suffocating. What if she looked at you differently? What if this changed how she felt about you? What if she left?

But hiding it from her wasn’t an option anymore. She deserved the truth, and you couldn’t keep running from it. Taking a shaky breath, you began to speak.

“I haven’t told anyone this,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not my family, not my friends. No one.”

Alexia nodded, her expression open and patient, letting you know she was listening.

“In my early twenties, I was in a relationship,” you continued, your voice trembling. “At first, I thought she was perfect. She was charming, funny, everything I thought I wanted. But… she wasn’t. She was controlling, manipulative. She’d talk me down, make me feel worthless. And when words weren’t enough for her, she’d… she’d hit me.”

Alexia’s hand twitched, as if she wanted to reach out to you, but she stopped herself, letting you continue at your own pace.

“I stayed for two years,” you said, your voice breaking as the memories flooded back. “I was too scared to leave. She had her good moments, and I kept telling myself she’d change. But she didn’t. She only got worse. And then, one night, she came home drunk, and everything escalated. She left in a rage, and I knew I couldn’t stay any longer. I packed my things, and I left. I left her, I left Madrid… I left everything behind.”

Tears streamed down your face as you spoke, but Alexia didn’t interrupt. She simply listened, her hazel eyes filled with a mixture of pain and love.

“For years, I didn’t let anyone in,” you said, wiping at your tears. “I told myself I’d never let anyone hurt me like that again. And then… then I met you.”

You looked at her, your eyes searching hers for any sign of judgment or rejection.

“You made it so easy to fall for you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re kind, and patient, and you make me feel safe in a way I haven’t felt in years. But I’m scared, Alexia. I’m scared that my past will ruin this. That I’ll ruin this. I don’t want to be scared of you. I know you’d never hurt me, but… my body, my mind… it doesn’t always listen. And I hate that. I hate that I can’t just be normal for you.”

When you finished, the silence was deafening. You looked down, too afraid to see her reaction.

“Mi amor,” Alexia said softly, breaking the silence. She reached out, pausing to make sure it was okay before gently taking your hand in hers. “Thank you for telling me. I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been.”

Her thumb brushed over your knuckles, her touch warm and grounding. “This doesn’t change anything for me. I love you. All of you. Your strength, your vulnerability, everything that makes you who you are. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t from fear.

“We’ll take things at your pace,” she continued. “There’s no rush, no expectations. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. And if something feels uncomfortable, you just tell me. We’ll figure it out together.”

Her other hand gently cupped your cheek, her thumb wiping away your tears. She leaned in, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your lips—a kiss that felt like a promise.

“You’re not broken,” she whispered, resting her forehead against yours. “You’re strong. So, so strong. And I’m so proud of you.”

For the first time in years, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter. You leaned into her touch, letting her warmth and love wash over you.

The two of you spent the rest of the evening talking. Alexia listened as you shared more about your past, your fears, and your hopes. She never interrupted, never judged—she simply listened, holding your hand the entire time.

By the time you finally fell asleep that night, wrapped in her arms, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time: hope.

With Alexia, you knew you were safe. With her, you could heal.

She was your person. And together, you could overcome anything.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #woso community #woso #woso fics #woso x reader #woso fanfics #alexia putellas

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scoupsakakitty · 2 days ago

Text

Beautiful | idol!Hoshi x idolxReader | angst, fluff

Tw: weight loss, not feeling enough

The rain poured relentlessly, blurring the neon lights of Seoul into streaks of color as Hoshi stood outside the apartment building. His fingers clenched around the umbrella handle, though he wasn’t sure why he had bothered bringing it. He was already soaked, and something about the cold seemed fitting.

He hesitated before pressing the buzzer.

Silence.

Then, a static-laced voice: "Who is it?"

Hearing her voice after all this time nearly broke him. "It’s me."

A long pause. Too long.

"Go home, Soonyoung."

He swallowed. "I just want to see you. Please."

"Don’t you have something better to do? Like catching a flight to Japan?" she said bitterly.

"I’ll take the next flight," he replied without hesitation. "You’re more important."

More silence, then a click. The door unlocked. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and stepped inside.

Y/N was thinner than he remembered. The weight loss was noticeable even under the oversized hoodie she wore, sleeves pulled over trembling fingers. Her once-bright eyes were dull, lips slightly chapped, the kind of exhaustion that no amount of sleep could fix settled deep in her features.

Seeing her like this made his chest tighten. This wasn’t the Y/N he knew.

"You shouldn’t be here," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Hoshi ignored the warning, stepping inside fully. "I had to see you. I had to know if you were okay."

She let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through her tangled hair. "Do I look okay to you?"

No. She looked like she had been barely holding on, like she had been drowning in something she couldn’t escape from. And the worst part? He hadn’t been there to pull her out.

"I’ve been watching you… on stage, in interviews, award shows. You’re disappearing, Y/N. You’re hurting," he admitted, voice raw. "Your friend reached out to me. She’s worried. And she thought maybe… maybe I could help."

Her eyes flashed. "And what? You think you can just come back and fix me? That your presence will magically make things better?"

"No," he whispered. "But I can be here. I can hold you up if you let me."

She scoffed. "You left, Soonyoung. And now you want to be my savior?"

"I never stopped caring," he said, his voice shaking. "I never stopped loving you."

That was the breaking point. Her lips trembled, and before she could stop herself, she collapsed into his arms.

"It’s so hard, Soonyoung," she sobbed into his chest. "No matter what I do, there’s always something wrong with me. I’m never pretty enough, never talented enough. Always too much or too little. They find every flaw, every mistake. The pressure is… it’s crushing me."

He held her tightly, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Y/N, listen to me. You are the most beautiful person in the world. And not because of how you look. You are beautiful for the way you think, for the sparkle in your eyes when you talk about something you love, for your ability to make people smile without trying."

She clung to him, her breathing ragged.

"I am proud of you," he continued. "I am proud of you for trying, even when it hurts. I wish I could tell you when you’ll finally feel okay again, when your head will be above water, but healing isn’t something you can time. It isn’t something you can measure. But things will get lighter, little by little, as you break through the weight on your shoulders. Keep facing what you need to face. You are getting closer every single day, even if it doesn’t feel that way. And I hope you start to believe that you are worthy of everything you want in this life. You deserve to be adored and cared for in every way your mind, body, and heart long for. You are effortlessly beautiful. You are the embodiment of beauty. Don’t let anyone tell you differently."

She sniffled, pulling back slightly to look at him. "Why do you still love me? After everything?"

He smiled sadly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "The only feeling stronger than my love for you is the ache that comes with missing you. I love everything about you. Maybe too much. But how could I not love that smile, that laughter, those eyes, that passion?"

Her breath hitched, fresh tears pooling in her eyes.

"I hate you," she whispered, voice trembling.

"I know," he said softly, pressing his forehead against hers. "Hate me all you want. Just let me stay."

She let out a shuddering breath and, after what felt like an eternity, nodded against his chest.

Soonyoung held her, his arms tightening around her fragile frame, and for the first time in months, she let herself lean into the warmth she had been missing.

Outside, the rain kept falling, washing away the past, making room for something new.

153 notes · View notes

aeralux · 2 days ago

Text

"Love Game" - Aegon Targaryen

Modern!Aegon x Reader (pt2 to Wicked Game, but could be read on its own)

Summary: After Aemond discards you like you're nothing more than a "convenient hole to fuck" (according to his words). Who better to make him jealous than his own older brother?

Warnings: SMUT 18+; rough sex; name calling (slut etc...); jealous Aemond; choking; LOUD af sex; alcohol consumption; angst (like a lil); slight Aemond x reaader (?); mentions of infidelity (Aemond)

Words: 8k

Notes: I'm not responsible for the media YOU consume.

Aemond Targaryen deserved to suffer. That was the only thought running through your head as you lived your day-to-day life. Even as weeks passed, the anger and bitterness inside you only grew stronger and stronger.

You wanted to pay him back, not just out of a sense of vengeance but because you felt it was necessary. He was older than you, and to be honest, he seemed to not even have any feelings that could be hurt.

But that didn’t matter; it wasn’t just about him. Hurting him would mean hurting your sister, the one person you cared about more than anyone else. You couldn’t let her find out what you had done—how you had betrayed her trust and broken the bond that held you together. The weight of your secret pressed heavily on your chest, filling you with a mix of guilt and fear.

He seemed to be doing well enough though, pretending that everything was fine. Looking at your sister with love in his eye, telling her sweet nothings. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, that pretentious jerk. With that same mouth, he had kissed you like he never even loved your sister.

Maybe you just needed another body to warm your bed to get over him, to forget all about that one-eyed freak and move on with your life. You had better things to do, truthfully.

Aemond catches your eye and flashes you a smirk, a knowing glint in his depths. He knows exactly what you're thinking, and can see the anger simmering beneath the surface. He thinks he's won, that he has you right where he wants you - desperate, bitter, and powerless.

Your sister, bless her naive heart, is completely oblivious to the tension between you. She chatters on about her day, laughing at Aemond's witty remarks, oblivious to the fact that the man she loves has been balls deep in her sister mere days ago.

Aemond reaches over, squeezing her hand affectionately. "Darling, you look radiant tonight. The most beautiful woman in the room, as always," he purrs, his voice dripping with false sincerity.

Your sister blushes, preening under his praise. If only she knew the real reason behind his smooth words and charming demeanour. The way he used to call you his 'dirty little secret', his 'convenient hole' to fuck when he needed release.

You feel the bile rise in your throat at the memory, your anger boiling over. You need to get away from him, from the sickening sight of him pretending to be the perfect boyfriend.

Suddenly, you stand up abruptly, the chair screeching loudly against the floor. Your sister looks at you in surprise, concern etched on her face.

"Sweetie? Are you alright?" she asks, noticing your pale complexion and the way your hands shake slightly.

"Yeah, listen I gotta go. Baela just texted she's having some people over at her place tonight. We're gonna pregame there and then hit up this new club downtown. Don't wait up, alright?" You say distractedly, already rising from your seat and grabbing your phone.

You shoot a quick smirk in Aemond's direction, just to let him know this is your way of getting back at him. Two can play his games.

"I'll be Quiet...I hope," you add with a wry smile, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you saunter off towards your bedroom. You make sure to put an extra sway in your hips as you walk away, just so he can get a good long look at your best asset in this tight skirt.

You slip into your room and begin to get ready quickly, shimmying into the slinky black dress you bought on sale last week. You admire yourself in the mirror, confident and sexy, ready to take on the night and forget all about your sister'slying, cheating, manipulating bastard of a boyfriend.

Let Aemond jerk off to thoughts of you tonight, the dirty bastard. Probably will anyway, even if you're not there, you muse with a smirk, slipping on your silver kitten heels and grabbing your purse.

Aemond watches, his gaze lingering on the sway of your hips as you strut out of the room. He feels a flicker of annoyance at your snide remark, the obvious attempt at getting under his skin. Two can indeed play this game.

He turns to your sister, flashing her a disarming smile. "Ignore her," he says dismissively, waving a hand in the direction you disappeared. "You know how unpredictable your sister can be sometimes."

Your sister frowns slightly, a hint of worry in her eyes. "I just hope she's not getting mixed up with the wrong crowd again," she muses, biting her lower lip in concern.

Aemond laughs, a rich, deep sound that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Don't worry about it, my love. I'm sure she knows what she's doing." At least, he hopes she doesn't know what she's in for tonight. The thought of you stumbling home drunk and throwing yourself at some random guy causes an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. He quickly pushes the thought away, focusing instead on your sister's lovely face.

The events of the night are hazy, interspersed with flashes of strobing lights, pounding music and the warmth of too many bodies pressed together on the dance floor. You recall Jace shouting something about an Uber, but the details are lost in a haze of alcohol and adrenaline.

Somewhere between the club entrance and the bar, you found yourself getting dragged to the floor by a drunk and overeager Rhaena. Before you could protest, her hands were already gripping your hips as she pulled you back against her. You began to shamelessly dance with her, practically grinding against her on the dancefloor.

Aemond slipped further from your thoughts with each pulsing heartbeat radiating from the speakers. For a blissful, drifting moment, everything else faded away - the betrayal, the anger, the heartache. It was just Rhaena, the thumping music, and the heady, almost electric atmosphere.

You could feel the eyes of strangers on you, but in the darkness and the buzz of the crowd, you didn't care. You let the music take over, let it consume you and make you feel alive.

Rhaena grins drunkenly at you as she grinds against you on the crowded dance floor, her hands gripping your hips tightly. "Woo! You're so hot!" Rhaena shouts over the pounding music, her words slightly slurred. She's a few drinks in, her inhibitions lowered.

Baela bounces up to you both, her silver hair swishing wildly as she moves to the music. She's wearing a tight, shimmering mini dress that shows off her toned dancer's body. "Girl, we need shots!" Baela yells over the pounding beat, her eyes sparkling with excitement and a bit of intoxication.

Jace, never one to miss out on a drinking opportunity, nods eagerly. He's been eyeing the bar, ready for the next round. Cregan just smirks, his gaze flickering between you, Baela and Rhaena. The strobing lights of the club illuminate his chiselled features and the mischievous glint in his eyes as he watches the two beautiful women grind together.

You flash Cregan a coquettish smile, playfully biting your finger as you catch his heated gaze. Wiggling your eyebrows teasingly, you let out a tinkling giggle, enjoying the blatant admiration in his eyes. The strobing lights of the club dance across your beautiful features.

Cregan watches, transfixed by your playful antics with a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes rove appreciatively over your curves, lingering on the way your dress rides up your thighs as you dance. He takes a swig of his beer, never taking his heated gaze off you.

You lean in close to Baela, shouting over the deafening music and the chatter of the crowd. "Ooh, let's do tequila shots!" you suggest, your voice lilting and eager. "No, wait, vodka! Neat, no lime or salt!" Jace argues, his own words slightly slurred.

Rhaena giggles drunkenly at your shot suggestion, slinging an arm around your shoulders. "Tequila it is!" she agrees enthusiastically, already pulling you off the dance floor towards the bar. Baela and Jace follow close behind, with Jace hollering out to the bartender.

As you reach the bar, Rhaena leans in close, her alcohol-laced breath hot against your ear. "You're such a tease," she accuses playfully, jerking her chin towards where Cregan is watching you with blatant appreciation. "The poor guy looks like he wants to devour you whole."

Baela chimes in, grinning widely as the bartender lines up the shots. "I don't blame him. Look at you, working that dress like it's your job." She winks at you, her own dress riding dangerously high on her thighs as she leans against the bar.

Jace slides the shots towards you both, his own eyes a bit glazed over from drinking. "Alright ladies, bottoms up!" he cheers, already tossing his shot back.

You toss back the tequila shot, feeling the burn of the alcohol slide down your throat and warm your belly. As you set the glass down, you catch a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of your eye. Your heart seizes in panic for a moment, fearing it might be him. But as you turn to look, you realize it's not Aemond, but his older brother, Aegon.

Relief floods through you as you meet Aegon's gaze, his smile widening in recognition. You can't help but smile back, giving him a little wave. Aegon is handsome, like all the Targaryen men, but he doesn't have the same intense, almost frightening charisma as his younger brother.

Aegon returns your smile, his grin widening as he notices your relieved expression. He's always found you charming. Not to mention the way that dress hugs your curves in all the right places. He saunters over, the crowd parting easily for the handsome man.

"Aemond's girlfriend's little sister," Aegon greets, his voice a low rumble over the pounding music. "Looking as lovely as ever. What brings a pretty thing like you out tonight?" He leans against the bar beside you, his eyes roaming appreciatively over your form.

Aegon is no stranger to the effect he has on women. With his golden hair, piercing eyes, and the strong, muscular build that comes with being a Targaryen, he's used to turning heads. But there's a warmth to his demeanour that Aemond lacks, a kindness in his eyes that makes people feel at ease in his presence.

He watches as Rhaena, Baela and Jace chat and laugh, already a bit tipsy. His gaze flickers back to you, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

You lean back against the bar, casually crossing your legs as you eye up Aegon with a smirk. "Aegon, these are my friends - Baela, Rhaena, Jace and Cregan," you say loudly enough to be heard over the blaring music. You gesture to each of them in turn, noting how Baela openly checks out Aegon's handsome features while Rhaena leans in to whisper something giggling to Jace, no doubt an impressed comment about your sister's 'brother-in-law's' looks.

Turning back to Aegon, you let your gaze shamelessly wander over his muscular frame, taking in the way his tailored shirt stretches across his broad shoulders and the way his dress pants hug his lean waist. "This is Aegon, my sister's boyfriend's older brother," you introduce him with a naughty lilt to your voice.

Aegon knows he's being checked out, and he takes your brazen appraisal as an invitation to do the same. His eyes slowly travel the length of your body, lingering on the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, and the way the skirt of your dress rides up your thigh.

"A pleasure to meet you all," he says smoothly, his eyes glinting with amusement. He turns back to you, his gaze intense and appraising. "And an even greater pleasure to see you again. You look absolutely stunning," he adds, his voice lowering to a more intimate tone.

Aegon flags down the bartender, ordering another round of tequila shots for everyone. "Drinks are on me tonight," he declares, sliding the shots towards you and your friends with a wink.

As the night goes on, Aegon stays close by your side, his hand either resting on the small of your back or holding yours possessively as you dance. He makes it clear he finds you captivating, desirable even. His flirtations grow bolder with each drink, his body pressing closer to yours as the crowd jostles around you both on the dance floor.

You grin as Aegon's hands boldly explore your curves while you move to the beat, a shiver running down your spine as you feel his arousal pressing insistently against your backside. You spin around to face him with a coy smile.

His eyes darken with lust as they meet yours, drinking in the sight of your flushed cheeks. You lean in close, your voice breathy as you tease, "Careful Aegon, don't get too excited now."

You punctuate your words with a playful swat to his muscular chest, feeling his firm muscle beneath your palm. Glancing over at Baela and Rhaena, you see them watching your exchange with curious eyes and understanding grins.

You roll your eyes at them playfully before turning your attention back to the Blue-Eyed Adonis before you.

Aegon chuckles lowly at your flirtatious teasing, not put off in the least. If anything, your coy smile and the way your hand lingers on his chest only ignite the desire smouldering in his eyes.

"Oh, I'm already far too excited," he murmurs, his voice a low, intimate rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand slides lower, coming to rest on the curve of your ass. He squeezes the supple flesh, pulling you more firmly against him so you can feel the hard press of his arousal.

"I could take you right here if I wanted to. Bend you over the bar and fuck you until you scream my name."

His lips brush against your ear, sending tingles down your spine. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the sheer masculine power of him. Part of you wants to give in, to let him have his way with you right here in the middle of the crowded club. But a bigger part of you wants to make him work for it, to tease and torture him.

Your eyes glint with mischief as you meet his heated gaze. "Is that a promise or a threat?" you ask, a kittenish smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

Aegon leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks. "Perhaps we should get out of here and find somewhere... more private," he suggests, his tone leaving no doubt about his intentions.

He glances over at Baela and Rhaena, who are not-so-subtly looking and mouthing 'holy shit' at you. Aegon smirks, clearly amused by their reaction.

Turning his attention back to you, Aegon reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering to caress your cheek. "What do you say, little one? Ready to get out of here and have some real fun?" he coaxes, his thumb brushing over your lower lip teasingly.

You lean in close, your lips brushing against Aegon's ear as you whisper sultrily, "I've been hoping you'd say something like that all night."

Your fingertips dance along his chiselled jawline before giving his earlobe a playful nip, tugging lightly. "My bed sound good enough for you?"

You press your body flush against his, letting him feel every curve and contour. "Tonight, you can do whatever you want with me~" you breathe. Your hand boldly cups the prominent bulge in his tailored trousers, giving it a teasing squeeze.

"Unless you'd rather stay and give my friends here a real show," you add with a coquettish wink at Baela and Jace, who watch your heated exchange with avid fascination.

His eyes darken with lust and he inhales sharply, the prominent bulge in his trousers twitching under your bold touch. He’s already imagining all the things he wants to do to your lush body, the ways he wants to make you scream and beg for more.

Aegon's lips curve into a wicked grin at your teasing offer to give your friends a show. "Tempting," he murmurs, one hand sliding down to grope your ass roughly. "I'd love to fuck you in front of an audience." His other hand tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. "But I want you all to myself tonight," he growls. "I'm going to take you home and use this sexy little body of yours in ways you've never been used before."

"Enough to drink? I'm ready to go whenever you are," he says, getting restless by now.

"Come on then," you purr, smirking up at Aegon with a wink. "Call the cab, I'm ready to go."

You blow kisses goodbye to Baela and Rhaena, giggling mischievously as you start leading Aegon out of the crowded club, your hips swaying with each step. The anticipation of the night ahead makes your heart flutter with excitement.

Aegon smirks as you lead the way out of the club, his eyes glued to your backside. He keeps a possessive hand on your lower back as he guides you out into the cool night air. The cab arrives quickly, and Aegon opens the door for you, allowing you to slip inside before sliding in beside you.

As the cab pulls away from the curb, Aegon's hand finds your thigh, his fingers. He starts to slowly slide his hand up your thigh, inching closer and closer to your centre. "Can't keep my hands off you," he murmurs, leaning in close. "You have no idea how much I want you."

Aegon's lips find your neck, placing hot kisses along the sensitive skin. His hand creeps higher, pushing the hem of your dress up as his fingers brush against your lace panties. He can feel the damp heat emanating from your core, making him let out a whine against your neck.

His eyes flash with lust as they meet yours in the darkness of the cab. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, tilting your face towards his. "I can't wait to get my hands on you," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing, promise-filled kiss.

You can't help but shiver with anticipation, your body already aching for his touch. You know this is going to be a chance to get revenge on your sister's lying boyfriend in the most delicious way possible.

The cab rolls to a smooth halt outside the familiar apartment building, the sudden stillness a stark contrast to the pulsing energy of the club. You gather your clutch and step out onto the pavement, one shapely leg at a time.

Aegon emerges a moment later from the cab with an air of casual confidence. He places a hand on the small of your back as you walk towards the entrance, his touch igniting sparks beneath the thin fabric of your dress.

As you approach the door, you pull ahead slightly, fishing your keys from your purse. With a coy smile, you glance back over your shoulder at Aegon. "You don't have to wait a moment longer," you whisper, the night air cool against your flushed cheeks.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you slip the key into the lock, a thrill of excitement and nerves coursing through you. Over your shoulder, you see the hunger in Aegon's eyes, the way they drink in every inch of your form in the dim light of the entryway. You know he wants you, and the knowledge sends heat coursing through your body.

Biting your lip softly, you step inside, holding the door open and letting Aegon follow you in.

Aegon follows you inside, his eyes never leaving your swaying hips and the tantalizing view of your ass. As soon as he’s through the door, he kicks it shut behind him and immediately pulls you flush against his hard chest. "I don't want to wait another moment," he murmurs hotly, his hands gripping your hips possessively as he walks you backwards towards your bedroom.

His lips find yours in a searing, passionate kiss. It's a kiss full of pent-up desire and hunger, a kiss that speaks to just how much he wants you. His tongue delves into your mouth, tangling with yours and exploring every inch of you. He tastes like tequila and sin, and you can't get enough.

Aegon's hands roam your curves greedily as he walks you to your room. He squeezes the globes of your ass, pulling you harder against the prominent bulge in his trousers. His fingers dipped under the hem of your dress, teasing the soft skin of your thighs. He wants to touch and feel every inch of you.

Breaking the kiss, Aegon tugs you into your bedroom, his eyes burning into yours. He looks around your room, taking in the feminine space before his gaze lands back on you. A wicked grin spreads across his face as his eyes rake over your body, drinking in the sight of you.

Without warning, Aegon reaches out and grabs you, pulling you back against his hard chest. He kisses along your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as his hands grip your hips. He wants to mark you, to claim you, to make you his. He wants to fuck you until you forget your name and only remember his.

Aemond tosses and turns in bed, his mind a whirlwind of twisted thoughts and dark imaginings of you. He can't get the image of your scantily clad body grinding against another out of his head, no matter how hard he tries.

His hand moves faster over his aching cock, stroking himself with hard, punishing grips. He pictures you pinned against the wall of the club's bathroom, your dress hiked up around your waist as some nameless man pounds into you from behind. The thought makes him groan, his hips bucking up into his fist.

Just as Aemond nears the edge, he hears the front door slam open downstairs. He freezes, his heart pounding in his chest as he wonders if it's you stumbling home, drunk and reeking of sex and another man's cologne.

Your sister bursts into the bedroom, fresh out of the shower. "Did you hear the door? Looks like she's finally home...." she starts to say, before noticing Aemond's state of undress and the obvious bulge in the sheets. He exhales heavily, his cock softening slightly at the interruption.

"Oh!" she gasps, a pretty blush spreading across her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I just thought..." She trails off, biting her lip as she takes in the sight of her boyfriend stroking his impressive erection.

Aemond forces a smile, trying to hide his lingering distraction and frustration. "It's alright, love," he says smoothly. "I think your sister just got back from her little night out. Probably passed out somewhere."

He hopes you're okay because right now, he's in no state to go check on you. Not with his cock still throbbing and his mind full of depraved thoughts.

Aegon's eyes darken with lust as you slip out of your tight dress, the fabric pooling around your feet and leaving you in nothing but a lacy black lingerie set. Your hardened nipples peeking through the delicate material. A thin strip of lace runs between your legs, barely covering your most intimate area.

You step forward as your fingers start to slowly unbutton his shirt. You lean in close, your soft lips brushing against his neck as you whisper sultrily, "You like what you see?"

Your voice is a breathy purr, dripping with seductive promise. You place teasing little kisses along his neck and jaw, feeling his pulse jump beneath your lips. Making Aegon's head fall back, a low groan rumbling in his chest.

Aegon's breathing grows heavier as his eyes rake over your nearly nude form, taking in every inch of exposed skin and curves. The black lace of your lingerie leaves little to the imagination, and he can see the way your nipples strain against the delicate material. His cock throbs almost painfully in his trousers, aching to be buried inside your tight heat.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," Aegon growls, his large hands gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him. He can feel every inch of your body pressed against his, and it ignites a hunger in him that he can barely control.

As you slip the shirt off completely, your hands roam over his muscular torso, exploring the hard planes and ridges. You walk your fingers up his chest, feeling his abs flex beneath your touch. Leaning in, you capture his lips in a deep, sensual kiss, your tongue teasing the seam of his mouth.

"I want you so badly Aegon," you murmur against his lips, your voice ragged with desire. Your hands slide down to his belt, starting to undo it with nimble fingers. "I need you to fuck me, right here, right now. I want you to claim me, make me yours."

In one swift movement, Aegon sweeps you up into his strong arms, carrying you over to the bed. He tosses you down onto the mattress, crawling over you with a wicked grin. "Keep begging for my cock like the needy little slut you are," he commands, his fingers hooking into the delicate lace of your panties. With a sharp tug, he tears your panties off with a rough tug, the flimsy lace giving way easily to his strength.

He tosses the ruined garment aside, leaving you bare and exposed before him. His eyes drink in the sight of your glistening pussy, already dripping with arousal.

"Look at this pretty cunt, so wet and ready for my cock," Aegon growls, his fingers brushing teasingly along your slick folds. He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, feeling it throb under his touch. "You're fucking drenched, you filthy girl. Are you really this fucking needy?"

Aegon makes quick work of his belt and trousers, shoving them down his thighs along with his boxers. His thick, hard cock springs free, the swollen head already leaking with desire. He strokes himself a few times, smearing the bead of pre-cum down his impressive length.

Crawling back over you, Aegon settles between your spread thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance. He teases you with shallow thrusts, letting you feel how big and hard he is, how much he wants to split you open.

"Beg for it," Aegon demands, his voice a low, dominant rumble.

"Oh god, Aegon..." you moan, your head lolling back against the pillow as you feel his thick cockhead teasing your aching, soaked folds. "Please, I can't take it anymore! I've been dripping for you all night, from the moment we started dancing together at the club."

You lock your eyes with his, desperation and lust swirling in their depths. "I already wanted you to bend me over the bathroom counter and fuck me hard like a nasty slut," you confess shamelessly, your cheeks flushed with arousal and a hint of embarrassment at your brazen words. "I've been imagining how amazing your huge cock would feel splitting me open, filling and stretching me."

You spread your thighs even wider, putting yourself on a lewd display. "Please Aegon, I'm begging you," you whimper, your voice dripping with need. "Use me like the desperate, cock-hungry slut I am." Your voice grew louder and louder, already forgetting that just in the other room your sister and Aemond were probably sleeping.

Aemond's eye snaps open as your desperate pleas ring out, your voice echoing through the apartment. He can hear every word, from the lustful moans to the shameless begging for his cock. His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he listens to you reduced to a wanton mess, so consumed by desire that you've forgotten all sense of volume control.

Beside him, your sister jolts up, blinking in confusion. She looks towards the door, her brows furrowing as she hears the obscene noises spilling from your room. "What the fuck?" she mutters.

Aemond grabs her wrist, stopping her. "Don't," he says shortly, his voice strained. He shakes his head when she opens her mouth to protest, silencing her with a sharp jerk of his chin towards the door. "Listen," he says quietly.

Together, they sit in tense silence, your sister's eyes widening as she realizes what she's hearing. Aegon is pounding into you hard enough to rock the bed against the wall, the headboard slamming rhythmically. His hips are smacking loudly against your ass, punctuating every powerful thrust. The room is filled with the vulgar sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and your cries of ecstasy.

Aegon is wrecking your pussy, claiming it with ruthless strokes of his thick cock. He's thrusting into you so hard that the bed creaks and groans in protest. The sounds of your pleasure fill the apartment, leaving no question as to what'shappening in your bedroom. Aegon is so deep inside you, stretching you wide around his girth, just as you begged him to do.

Aemond sits rigidly on the bed, jaw clenched and hands fisted in the sheets as your shameless moans and the sounds of carnality fill the air. His heart pounds violently against his ribs, a wild mix of anger, disgust, and a sickening twist of arousal coursing through him. The lecherous symphony of your coupling assaults his ears, each lewd noise a dagger twisting in his gut.

Aegon's hips piston relentlessly against yours, the force of his thrusts rocking the bed frame against the wall with a rhythmic thud. Slick, obscene squelches and the vulgar slap of flesh against flesh echo through the apartment, punctuated by your whorish cries for more, for harder, begging to be used like the desperate cock-hungry slut you apparently are.

Your sister's face pales as the reality of the situation sinks in, her eyes wide with shock. She stares at Aemond as if waiting for an explanation. But Aemond remains still, his expression grim, unable to meet her horrified gaze.

He's never felt such an overwhelming surge of rage, revulsion, and perverse, twisted jealousy. Hearing you degrade yourself for another man, screaming in ecstasy, begging to be used...it's unforgivable. It makes his blood boil and his cock throb in a way it shouldn't, given the circumstances.

Aegon is ruining you, claiming you, fucking you with a ruthless, punishing intensity. And from the sounds of it, you'reloving every second of it.

Your sister finally finds her voice. "Oh wow... I didn't think my sister liked it this rough..."

Aegon snarls, his hips pounding into yours with brutal force as your begging drives him wild with lust. He hooks your legs over his broad shoulders, nearly bending you in half as he looms over you, his muscular frame caging you in. The new angle lets him plunge even deeper, his heavy balls slapping lewdly against your ass with every savage thrust.

Your slick walls clench and flutter around his pistoning cock, gripping him like a vice. The obscene squelch of your juices fills the room, mixing with the erotic slap of skin against skin and your wanton cries. Aegon's eyes are wild, blazing with possessive hunger as he ruthlessly claims your body, using you like the cock-starved slut you are.

"That's it, take my fucking cock," Aegon growls, one hand fisting in your hair as he pounds into you. "This is what you wanted. To be split open on another man's dick, used like a filthy little fuck toy?"

He leans down and crushes his mouth to yours, swallowing your screams of ecstasy. His tongue plunders your mouth, dominating you completely. All the while, he never slows the brutal pace of his thrusts, each one striking that perfect spot deep inside you that makes you see stars.

"Ohhhh f-fuuuuck, yesss!" You wailed, your voice cracking with raw pleasure as Aegon's massive cock pummeled your cervix with ruthless precision. Tears of pure ecstasy streamed down your cheeks, your hair splayed wildly across the pillow. "Thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyou!" You chanted deliriously, too lost in sensation to form coherent words.

Your back arched sharply, pressing your tits against Aegon's chiselled chest as you clenched around him. "H-harder," you whimpered desperately, your eyes rolling back in your head as you surrendered completely to the brutal pleasure radiating from your core. "Please, I n-need...I need..." you trailed off, unable to even articulate what you craved, your mind shattered by the relentless, mind-numbing bliss of Aegon's animalistic rutting.

The obscene squelch of your dripping cunt taking his merciless pounding filled your ears, punctuated by the slam of flesh against flesh and your escalating wails of ecstasy.

"You want it harder?" Aegon taunts, his voice a low, dark rumble. "You want me to destroy this greedy cunt?" Without waiting for a response, he leans down as he looms over you with your legs still on his shoulders. The new angle lets him plunge even deeper, his heavy balls slapping lewdly against your ass with every savage thrust.

Your pussy is drenched, soaking his cock and dripping down onto the sheets beneath you.

"Fuck, you're squeezing me so tightly," Aegon growls, his eyes wild with primal hunger as he stares down at your pleasure-drunk face. "Such a good little cock sleeve, taking me so well." He captures your mouth in a brutal kiss, swallowing your screams of ecstasy as he continues to pound into you with ruthless intensity.

His hand moves from your hair to your throat, wrapping around it possessively as he squeezes slightly. He can feel your pulse fluttering wildly beneath his fingers, matching the erratic beat of his own heart. Aegon knows he's taking you to the brink of what you can handle, pushing you to the very edge of your limits.

Aegon snarls like a wild beast as he feels your pussy spasm and clench around him, gripping his cock. Your desperate, incoherent cries and the way you arch your back, presenting your perfect tits to him, only fuel his lust. He wants to ruin you, to fuck you so hard that you'll be ruined for any other man.

Aemond sits frozen as your screams of bliss and the lewd sounds of your coupling flood the apartment. It's like a punch to the gut, hearing the woman he actually wants debasing herself on another man's cock, begging to be used harder. The obscene noises fill him with sickening jealousy and a twisted, shameful arousal he can't deny.

Your sister stares at Aemond in shock, her mouth agape. "Is she...is she okay? That sounds rough..." She looks towards the door.

Aemond jolts as if electrified when he finally registers the name falling from your lips in ecstasy over and over again. His heart stops, a cold sweat breaking out over his skin as the horrible realization crashes over him like a bucket of icy water.

White-hot rage explodes through Aemond's veins, his vision flaring red at the edges. Aegon, his own brother, is violating his girlfriend's little sister in the most degrading way possible. Using her like a cheap fucktoy, pounding into her so hard that the whole apartment knows what a filthy slut she is for him.

Aegon.

Aegon is the one fucking you. Aegon is the one ruining you. Aegon is the one claiming your body in the most primal way imaginable.

Aegon's name falls from your lips like a prayer, a mantra repeated with every devastating thrust. "Aegon, Aegon, Aegon!" You scream, your back bowing off the bed as he fucks you into the mattress with ruthless intensity. The bed creaks and groans under the force of his lovemaking, the headboard slamming against the wall with every snap of his hips.

Your sister looks at Aemond with wide, horrified eyes. "That's...that's your brother, isn't it?" she asks breathlessly. "Your brother is - is he really fucking my sister like that?"

Aemond's jaw clenches, his hands fisting in the sheets as he nods numbly. His mind is reeling, a vicious storm of jealous rage and unwanted, twisted arousal swirling inside him. He can't believe it. He can't believe out of all the guys in the club you could've brought home, you're letting his older brother fuck you stupid.

Your fingers fly to your clit as Aegon squeezes your throat, making your world explode into a million pieces.

"Fuck! I fucking love your huge cock so much," you wail shamelessly, too lost in ecstasy to care how utterly slutty you sound. Tears stream down your flushed cheeks as you feel Aegon throbbing deep inside, splitting you open so perfectly. His smirk above you only pushes you closer to the edge.

"I-I can feel you, Aegon..." you sob, your pussy clenching and spasming uncontrollably around his pistoning length. "I can feel you in my fucking guts, holy shit!" Your eyes, hazy with lust, can barely focus on Aegon's handsome face as you cry from pleasure.

Aemond feels like he's been punched in the stomach, the air leaving his lungs in a brutal whoosh. Rage, jealousy, and a sick sense of lust churn violently inside him as he listens to you screaming his brother's name, begging for more as Aegon abuses your pussy.

His brother. His fucking brother Aegon is the one splitting you open, claiming your body with ruthless, animalistic fucking. The bed creaks and groans, the headboard slamming against the wall with every devastating thrust. Aegon must be pounding into you with enough force to leave bruises, fucking you like the desperate, cock-starved slut you've become.

The whole fucking apartment knows now what a whore you are for his brother. The way you're screaming, the obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh...you're not even trying to be quiet.

Not to mention the fucking tears. You're crying from pleasure, sobbing his brother's name like your life depends on it.

"You fucking love it, don't you?" Aegon snarls above you, his hand tightening around your throat. "Love the way my cock is splitting you open, reshaping this hungry cunt to fit me like a glove?" He leans down and captures your mouth in a brutal kiss

Aegon grins wickedly as he feels your pussy clamp down on his cock like a silken vice, gripping him rhythmically as you cum hard. "That's it, cum on this fucking cock," he snarls, his hips never slowing their brutal pace. "I want to feel this slutty little cunt milking me dry."

His intense gaze locks with yours, his eyes burning into your soul as your world shatters around you. You shake and convulse beneath him, a silent scream ripping from your raw throat as your climax crashes through you like a tidal wave of ecstasy. Tears stream freely down your cheeks.

Your wide, glazed eyes stare up at Aegon in helpless, mindless rapture, seeing nothing but him. You're utterly lost, drowning in the overwhelming pleasure that's consuming your every sense and thought. You can't speak, can't form a single coherent word or syllable as your trembling body surrenders completely to the exquisite agony of your release.

You can only feel - the scorching heat of Aegon's skin, the slick, obscene slide of his thick cock pounding into your fluttering, grasping pussy, the way your ass jiggles and bounces with every relentless thrust. Your breasts heave and strain beneath him, your nipples grazing his chest with each devastating surge of his hips.

Aegon doesn't let up, fucking you straight through your climax with ruthless intensity. He's merciless, pounding into your spasming cunt like a man possessed, forcing you to take every thick, throbbing inch of him. The sensation of his heavy balls slapping lewdly against your ass with each thrust only prolongs the mind-melting ecstasy.

You're just a vessel for his pleasure now, a set of holes for him to use and ruin as he sees fit. Your body is no longer your own as you writhe and thrash beneath him.

Aegon leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he growls filthy words. "Fuck, look at you. Coming apart so beautifully on my cock. You were made for this, made to be fucked stupid and used for my pleasure."

He pistons his hips at a brutal pace, the obscene slap of skin against skin echoing through the room. Aegon is fucking you right through your climax, not letting you come down from your high at all. Each thrust rocks the bed frame, the headboard slamming against the wall with enough force to leave a dent.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum," Aegon snarls against your throat, his thrusts becoming erratic and uncontrolled. "I'm going to fucking fill this hungry little hole. You want that, don't you? Want me to pump you full?"

With a roar, Aegon buries himself to the hilt inside you, his cock jerking and pulsing as he finds his release. He grinds his pelvis hard against yours, making sure you can feel every hot, thick spurt of his cum painting your insides.

Aemond lunges to his feet, a snarl ripping from his throat as he starts to storm towards the door. His girlfriend jumps up and grabs his arm, stopping him cold. She stares at him with wide, shocked eyes, her face pale and stricken.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demands, her voice shaking. "They're literally having sex in there! Does it really bother you that much, hearing them..." She trails off, biting her lip as another lewd shriek echoes from your room, followed by the crude slap of flesh against flesh and the rhythmic creaking of the bed.

Aemond's jaw clenches, his eyes flashing with a chaotic mix of rage and jealous lust. "Yeah, it does," he grits out, his voice low and dark. "You're my girlfriend, not her. I should be able to fuck you harder and make you scream louder, not listen to my brother ruin the little slut."

He shakes his head, his expression grim and unforgiving. "I can't stand the thought of Aegon touching her, tasting her..." He squeezes his eyes shut, the obscene sounds still filling his ears.

Aemond's hands clench into fists at his sides, his whole body trembling with barely restrained fury and a sick, twisted arousal he can't comprehend. He's never felt so violently possessive before, so consumed by jealous rage.

His girlfriend looks at him with a mix of anger and betrayal in her eyes. "Well get over it, 'cause it's happening. Your brother is the one fucking her stupid, not you," she points out coldly. "Maybe if you treated me half as good as he's treating her..." she trails off bitterly.

"A-Aegon... I can feel you, oh god, I can feel you pumping me so full..." Your voice is breathy and weak, your body trembling as you feel Aegon's hot, thick seed flooding your insides. "Mmmnh... it's so much, I can feel it leaking out..." You bite your lower lip, a shaky moan escaping you as the rivulets of his cum start to seep out from where you're still intimately connected.

"Thank you... for ruining me..." You gaze up at him with hazy, adoring eyes, your hair splayed messily across the pillow, your cheeks flushed and dewy. "Mmm... I feel like I'm your personal cum dump now." You clench your walls around him and giggle, trying to milk out every last drop of his release.

"I love feeling your cum leaking out of my fucked hole... I'm so happy I let you use me like this." A soft, dazed smile plays on your lips as you savour the intimate feeling of your bodies remaining joined. "I've never felt so full."

Aegon's expression softens as he looks down at your dazed, blissed-out face. He brushes a few strands of hair from your forehead, tucking them gently behind your ear. "You did so well, taking my cock like that," he murmurs, his thumb caressing your cheek. "I've never felt anyone as tight as you before."

He leans down and presses a surprisingly tender kiss to your lips, his other hand sliding down to squeeze your ass possessively. "Look at you, covered in sweat and my cum," Aegon says with a smirk, trailing his fingers through the mess leaking from between your legs. "I've marked you as mine now."

Aegon carefully scoops you up into his strong arms, cradling you against his bare chest as he maneuvers you both to lay on your sides. He pulls the blanket up over your naked, trembling body, tucking you in like a precious treasure. "Get some rest," he orders softly, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "You earned it after that performance."

Aegon holds you close, letting you bask in the afterglow of your intense coupling. His heartbeat is slow and steady beneath your ear, a soothing rhythm that lulls you into a state of tranquillity.

Outside the bedroom, Aemond is still arguing with his girlfriend, his expression dark and stormy. He's pacing back and forth, his fists clenched at his sides as the sounds of you and Aegon's coupling still fill the air.

"Why can't you just let it go?!" his girlfriend argues, her voice rising. "Your brother is in there fucking my sister into a coma! Who cares?! She's an adult!"

Aemond whirls on her, his eyes flashing. "Of course I fucking care!" he snarls. "I'm just - I can't believe she'd let him do that to her. In your shared fucking apartment." He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, his jaw clenching.

Aemond's girlfriend glares at him, her eyes flashing with anger and betrayal. "Oh, you mean like how you haven't fucked me into a coma in months?!" she snaps back, crossing her arms over her chest. "I've seen the way you look at her, Aemond. Like she's some prized piece of ass you wish was yours."

Aemond recoils as if slapped, his face paling. "That's not - I would never…" he starts to protest, but she cuts him off with a bitter laugh.

"Save it," she scoffs, rolling her eyes. "You think I haven't noticed? The way your eyes follow her every move, the little glances you sneak when you think I'm not looking." She steps closer to him, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Face it, Aemond. You want to fuck your own girlfriend's little sister. You're just pissed it's Aegon doing it instead of you."

Aemond's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he glares down at her. "Watch your fucking mouth," he grits out, his voice low and dangerous. "That's not - I'm not - " He breaks off, gripping the back of his neck as he turns away from her.

His girlfriend laughs again, a harsh, grating sound. "You can't even deny it," she points out coldly. "You're jealous that Aegon is the one fucking her, not you. Well, get over it. She's not your property, Aemond. She can fuck whoever she wants."

With that, she turns on her heel and storms off towards the kitchen, leaving Aemond alone in the bedroom. He stands there for a long moment, his chest heaving with angry breaths as he tries to collect himself.

You peek up at Aegon through your lashes, a playful smirk tugging at your kiss-swollen lips as you hear the muffled shouts and a female voice rising in anger in the other room. You nestle closer to Aegon's warm, muscular body, relishing in the intimate feeling of your sweat-slicked skin still pressed together.

"Mmm, by the way, I think your brother's out there losing his mind," you murmur, tracing idle patterns on Aegon's chest with your fingertip. You giggle softly. "Poor thing seems pretty worked up about you defiling the 'precious little princess', hmm?" You tease, your voice breathy and low.

Aegon chuckles, a wicked grin spreading across his handsome face as he hears the muffled shouts and angry voices coming from the other room. "Sounds like he's in quite a state," he remarks casually, seemingly unfazed by the drama unfolding outside the bedroom door.

He rolls onto his side, facing you with a smirk playing on his lips. "Poor, dear Aemond," Aegon mocks, his voice dripping with disdain. "Probably wishing it was his cock splitting you open instead of mine."

Aegon reaches out, grabbing your chin and tilting your head to look up at him. His eyes burn into yours, intense and possessive. "Let him be jealous," he growls. "You're mine now, not his. I'll make sure of that."

With that declaration, Aegon crushes his lips against yours in a searing, dominating kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, claiming your mouth with a fierce hunger. It's clear he has no intention of letting his brother have you, no matter how much Aemond might want it.

160 notes · View notes

ayumigotabittoolonely · 2 days ago

Text

Baby you are the baddest

Baby you are the baddest, baby you are the baddest girl

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒚 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎. 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒆, 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒆 u 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆? 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓.

Characters - nanami kento , gojo Satoru and Suguru geto

Warning ⚠️ : contains suggestive smut, sexual content!

Gojo Satoru

Jujutsu Tech was hosting a huge party for all the students and teachers, and as one of the teachers, you were excited at least, you tried to be. You had asked Gojo to accompany you, but he refused, saying he was the organizer and had things to handle. So, you arrived alone.

You were wearing

Beautiful Right? Right??

But the moment you stepped in, something felt off. The room was filled with stunning people your coworkers looking absolutely amazing, dressed to impress. You knew you were beautiful, you reminded yourself over and over, but tonight… you just weren’t feeling it.

Then you saw her.

Gojo’s ex.

She was wearing blue too, but hers was a deeper, richer shade. Her dress was shorter, hugging her figure in all the right places. She looked effortlessly stunning, drawing attention from every corner of the room. Compliments flooded her way, and with each one, your confidence sank a little more.

Before you could spiral any further, a loud voice echoed through the room.

"ATTENTION!"

Gojo.

He cleared his throat, a smug grin already forming. Then, as expected, he started the program with one of his signature flirty lines something smooth, playful, the kind of thing he always did. Normally, you’d just roll your eyes, maybe even laugh.

But tonight?

Tonight, it just made you feel worse.

Everyone clapped, the room filled with cheers and applause. Lost in your thoughts, you barely reacted until Utahime lightly smacked your arm, snapping you out of it.

“Come on, at least pretend to enjoy yourself,” she muttered.

You let out an awkward snort, forcing a small laugh as you clapped along with the crowd. But no matter how much you tried to play along, that sinking feeling in your chest just wouldn’t go away.

His eyes scanned the crowd as he spoke, but the moment they landed on you his breath hitched.

For a second, his mind went completely blank.

Why the hell were you looking like that in front of them? Dressed so beautifully, so effortlessly stunning, yet standing there with an unsure look on your face? It made his chest tighten in ways he didn’t expect.

And the worst part? He was the one organizing this damn event meaning he couldn’t just walk over to you, couldn’t pull you aside, couldn’t do a damn thing about the way you were making his head spin.

Frustrating. Absolutely frustrating.

With every passing second, the insecurity crept in deeper. No matter how much you tried to shake it off, the feeling only got worse.

Then, between the chatters and musics, you heard a voice that made your stomach drop.

"Satoru was definitely checking me out. He still thinks about me. Maybe I can get him back." His ex..

Absolutely not. What the fuck?

"Hell nah, he has a girlfriend," her friend scoffed.

But she just waved it off, laughing dramatically before saying something that hit you like a punch to the gut.

"That girl? Yeah, she looks good, but be real would you pick a cute girl with a basic look or someone hotter?"

Her friend chuckled, brushing it off like it was nothing. But you?

You stood there, frozen.

And for the first time tonight, a terrible thought crossed your mind.

Maybe… just maybe… she was right.

You couldn’t do this. Not tonight. Not anymore.

Your chest felt tight, your hands clenched at your sides as those words replayed in your head over and over again. Would you pick a cute girl with a basic look or someone hotter?

Maybe… maybe she was right. Maybe Satoru deserved someone better. Someone who could match his energy, his confidence someone who wouldn’t feel small next to him.

Your vision blurred slightly as you turned on your heel.

Hell nah, you were not staying here any longer.

Maybe you'd even

No. The thought hurt too much to finish.

But a small, painful voice in your head whispered anyway.

Maybe you should break up with him.

Gojo was stress-eating sweets.

He had been trying really trying to get you off his mind, but it wasn’t working. Every time he glanced in your direction, he felt that same frustration bubbling up again. Why the hell did you have to look so good tonight? And why did you look so sad?

He hadn’t even noticed his ex in the crowd. Didn’t care, didn’t want to care. As far as he was concerned, she didn’t exist.

He took a deep breath, ready to continue his speech, when something caught his eye you.

You were leaving.

His heart lurched. And were you… wiping tears?

His stomach twisted, but on the outside, he kept his usual grin. Flashing a charming smile to the crowd, he smoothly passed the mic to Geto without missing a beat.

Then, without hesitation, he followed you.

You walked outside, tears streaming down your face as you tried to steady your breathing. Your chest ached, and no matter how hard you tried to push the thoughts away, they just wouldn’t leave.

Before you could take another step, you heard hurried footsteps behind you.

“Oi—”

Gojo caught up to you in an instant, his usual carefree presence feeling different this time. He let out an awkward laugh, but it wasn’t his usual teasing one. No, this one was tense forced. Because if someone had done this to you, if someone had hurt you enough to make you cry, he would fucking hollow them without hesitation.

This was the first time he had ever seen you like this.

And for the first time in a long time, he felt unsure.

His voice wavered slightly as he reached for you, hesitating before speaking.

“B-baby… who got you crying like that? Tell me, what’s happening?” He tried to mask the worry in his voice, tried to keep up his usual playful charm, but it was useless his concern for you was far too obvious.

You swallowed hard, looking up at him, your heart breaking before the words even left your mouth.

“Gojo… let’s put an end to this.”

What.

The.

Fuck.

His mind short-circuited.

What in the world did you just say?

He looked at you like he had just seen a ghost.

For a moment, he didn’t move just stood there, staring at you, his mind struggling to process what he had just heard. Then, without hesitation, he reached out and grabbed your hand, gripping it tightly like he was afraid you’d slip away.

“It’s not time to joke, babe.” His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it something desperate, something scared.

But you only shook your head.

“I’m not kidding, Satoru.” Your voice wavered, but you pushed through. “I looked at myself… and then at your ex… and I realized no, not realized, because it’s the truth you deserve someone better than me. Someone more attractive, someone at your level. After all… you’re the strongest sorcerer.”

You expected him to laugh it off, to tell you you were being ridiculous. But the way his jaw clenched, the way his grip on your hand tightened just a little more

He wasn’t laughing.

He was mad.

Not the kind of playful, teasing irritation he usually had no. This was different.

It wasn’t just anger. It was disappointment. Not at you, but at the fact that you his girl were standing here, crying, actually believing you weren’t enough for him.

His eyes darkened for a split second, jaw tightening as if he was holding something back. But then, just as quickly, he dismissed it, forcing a smile onto his face.

And if you were being honest… that smile scared you a little.

Before you could say anything, he moved.

Swift, effortless he scooped you up into his arms without warning, ignoring your startled gasp.

“Satoru what the hell?”

“Shh, sweetheart.” His voice was calm, but there was something in his tone that made your breath hitch.

Without another word, he carried you straight to the washroom, his grip firm, his expression unreadable.

He gently pulled you inside the bathroom and started to make out with you.

The moment he locked the door behind you, there were no words.

No hesitation.

Just him grabbing you, kissing you, devouring you.

It was rough, desperate, his lips crashing onto yours with a force that left you breathless. First, you had shown up looking so damn beautiful, completely stealing his focus. And then, you had the audacity to say you wanted to break up because you weren’t enough for him?

Enough for him?

Fucking enough for him?

You were everything to him. The most perfect, precious woman in the world. He saw perfection in every flaw you thought you had, and the fact that you couldn’t see it? The fact that you even doubted it?

It pissed him off.

His hands cupped your face, tilting your head up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with something unreadable, something intense, before he let out a sharp breath and snorted a quiet laugh.

Then he kissed you again.

Again.

And again.

“Ooo, look at this woman,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with something dark, something possessive. His hands trailed down, fingertips skimming over your thighs inner thighs, to be precise.

Your breath hitched.

“S-Satoru, what the fuck?” Your voice wavered as you tried to gather your thoughts. “What if people-”

“They’re too busy, babe,” he cut in smoothly, lips brushing against your jaw as his fingers traced slow, teasing circles.

“But what if they catch us…” you whispered, your pulse racing. The last thing you needed was for someone to walk in and see this.

A smirk curled against your skin.

“I hope nobody catches us,” he hummed, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

Then, he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

“But…” he murmured, voice thick with amusement, "I kinda hope they catch us"

You gasped, hands gripping onto his shoulders when his fingers ghosted over the thin fabric covering your heat.

“You wore blue for me, no?” His tone was teasing, but the satisfaction in his voice was undeniable.

It was true. You had wanted to look good tonight. But more than that, you knew blue was his favorite color.

And yet, as his fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns along your waistbandyou found yourself lowering your gaze , feeling shy.

"You are so gorgeous," he hummed against your skin, his lips trailing along your jaw, pressing slow, lingering kisses.

"Baby, you’re the baddest girl… nobody else matters. Not anyone. Only you."

His voice was low, dripping with conviction, and the way he said it like it was the most obvious fact in the world made your head spin.

It was almost like he was gaslighting you into believing you were the most beautiful woman to ever exist.

And fuck it was working.

He gently pushed your dress up to your waist, exposing your soft skin to the cool air. His touch was slow, deliberate like he was savoring every moment, every reaction.

Then, with the same maddening patience, he hooked his fingers around your panties and slid them down, removing them effortlessly.

But instead of tossing them aside, he smirked and casually slipped them into his pocket.

You gasped, your breath hitching as you instinctively clamped a hand over your mouth.

His smile only grew.

"Oh?" he mused, tilting his head, eyes dark with amusement. "Shy now, baby?"

You said nothing your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses against your neck. Each one sent a shiver down your spine, his lips warm, teasing, possessive.

Your fingers curled into his shoulders, gripping onto him as he moved lower, his kisses trailing along your collarbone.

Then, without breaking contact, you heard the soft clink of metal.

Your eyes flickered down just in time to see him unfastening his belt, the sound making your stomach tighten with anticipation.

Satoru smirked against your skin.

"Still think I don’t want you, baby?" he murmured his voice dripping with amusement as he pulled his belt smoothly.

You swallowed hard, heat rushing to your face as he slowly slid the belt from its loops, letting it fall to the floor with a quiet thud. His fingers moved next, unbuttoning his pants with agonizing slowness like he was giving you a chance to stop him, to protest, to run.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Not when his lips returned to your neck, kissing, biting, claiming you.

His hands roamed over your bare thighs, squeezing, kneading his touch firm yet teasing, possessive yet gentle. He was so big, his presence alone swallowing you whole.

"Still quiet?" he murmured, voice laced with amusement as his fingers traced the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. "Not gonna fight me on this?"

Your breath hitched when his fingers slipped higher, parting your thighs with ease.

"Satoru—"

"Shh, sweetheart." His thumb brushed against your clit, barely applying pressure, yet it was enough to send a shiver through you.

Your legs instinctively tried to close, but his grip was firm.

"Uh-uh," he tutted, his other hand gripping your hip. "You’re not running from me now."

You let out a shaky breath, fingers digging into his arms as he kept up his slow, torturous pace, his touch deliberate, calculated meant to break you.

His lips brushed against your ear, his voice dropping lower, thick with something dark and dangerous.

"Let me show you just how fucking perfect you are."

And that’s how it was Satoru making love to you in the bathroom, his touch reverent yet desperate, like he needed to prove something to you.

You muffled your gasps and moans, biting your lip, your hands gripping onto him as he moved against you, within you, filling every inch of your senses.

His eyes never left yours, filled with something deeper than lust something raw, devoted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses wherever he could reach.

“So fucking perfect for me.”

He watched you intently, drinking in every expression, every quiet sound, and when you looked up at him desperate, vulnerable he swore under his breath, leaning in to kiss you again.

As if he could make you feel just how much he meant every word.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t stop touching you, didn’t stop kissing you, didn’t stop whispering words that made your chest ache and your stomach tighten.

"God, baby… you have no idea what you do to me." His voice was hoarse, filled with something dangerous, something utterly worshipful.

"You’re not just beautiful. You’re stunning. The kind of gorgeous that makes people stop and stare, but they don’t even know the half of it."

His hands slid over your body, tracing every curve, every inch of skin like he was memorizing you.

"It’s not just your looks, sweetheart." He pressed a lingering kiss to your collarbone, then another, his lips trailing up your neck. "You. It’s you. Your smile, your laugh, your stubborn little attitude that drives me crazy."

You whimpered when he thrust deeper, and he groaned at the way you clenched around him.

"You’re so fucking smart, too," he continued, his voice dropping lower. "The way you think, the way your mind works I swear, it’s the sexiest thing about you."

His fingers threaded through yours, pinning your hand above your head as he met your gaze.

"And don’t even get me started on how kind you are," he breathed, his tone almost pained. "You care so much about everything, about everyone but you don’t even realize how easy it is to love you."

Your heart clenched.

"You are everything to me," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours. "So don’t you ever say you’re not enough for me again."

Then, with a smirk, he tilted his head and added,

"If anything, I should be worried about keeping up with you, gorgeous."

After some moments, you heard the click of heels approaching, and before you could even react, the door swung open.

It was none other than his ex.

Her eyes widened in pure shock, and her makeup kit slipped from her hands, crashing to the floor with a loud clatter.

But Satoru?

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he smirked, his movements slow and deliberate as he reached for his discarded jacket and draped it over you, shielding your exposed skin.

Then, as if this was the most casual thing in the world, he turned to her and tilted his head.

“Oh?” His grin was lazy, smug. “Didn’t see you there.”

His grip on your hips tightened possessively before he let out a soft chuckle, his tone downright mocking.

“Hope we didn’t… interrupt anything.”

His ex ran away crying, heels clicking rapidly against the floor as she bolted out of the bathroom.

Satoru barely spared her a glance.

His attention was still on you.

His smirk softened into something more genuine as he gazed down at you, his hands gently running over your waist, your thighs, as if grounding you.

“Look at you, baby,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your flushed cheek. “So fucking pretty… too pretty to be worrying about anyone else.”

You tried to say something, but your head was spinning, your body still trembling from everything. Words felt impossible.

Satoru chuckled, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes, his expression dripping with admiration.

“Lightheaded already? Cute,” he teased, but his tone was filled with nothing but warmth.

He kissed you again slow and deep before murmuring against your lips,

“Let’s get you cleaned up, gorgeous.”

Satoru cleaned you up with a level of care that made your heart ache his usual teasing replaced with soft kisses, gentle touches, and whispered praises.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” he murmured, smoothing down your dress and fixing your hair, his blue eyes scanning your face like he was checking for any signs of discomfort.

You nodded, still too dazed to form actual words, and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“God, I wrecked you, huh?” His smirk returned, but his touch remained soft, almost reverent.

Before you could even try to respond, he scooped you up into his arms effortlessly.

“Satoru—”

“Nope, not letting you walk,” he said firmly, pressing a kiss to your temple as he carried you out of the bathroom. “You look too fucked out to stand properly. And besides…” He grinned down at you. “Gotta make sure everyone sees you wrapped up in my jacket, looking all cute and satisfied.”

Your face burned as he carried you back into the party like you were the most precious thing in the world.

Every single head turned.

Gasps. Stares. Murmurs.

Your coworkers exchanged looks, some shocked, some amused.

And his ex?

Nowhere to be seen.

Satoru, on the other hand, was absolutely thriving. He wore his usual cocky grin, his chest puffed out like he had just won the grandest prize of all.

Which, in his eyes, he had.

Because you were his.

And he had just made damn sure everyone knew it.

And in that moment, wrapped up in his arms, surrounded by the warmth of his jacket and the even warmer way he looked at you

As he carried you through the party, past all the stares and whispers, he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple before murmuring against your skin

“You know… in this whole damn world, you’re the only one who can bring me to my knees.”

His voice was soft, but his words carried weight, filled with something undeniable.

Because Satoru Gojo the strongest, the untouchable, the man who stood above all

Would willingly fall for you, every single time.

All your insecurities melted away.

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lea-russo333 · 2 days ago

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Recovery's hard <3 Leah Williamson

hii pookies!

It's been a while since I've posted anything which I apologize for. I got slapped with the biggest writers block ever. which (if I'm being honest) I'm still struggling through but yolo✌️. I got a smidge of inspiration today and decided to finish a small blurb🤭

hurt/comfort

warnings: 18+, themes of SH (pls don't read if that's a triggering topic for you)

proofread: somewhat

You hadn't meant for her to see you like this, she was supposed to be out tonight. A special team dinner to celebrate their recent win.

The feeling of guilt started to pool at the bottom of your stomach, you had ruined her night.

Your eyes glassed over as you watched her hand on your thigh, pushing hard against you, sending a jolt of pain up your body. She squeezed your hand gently in a silent apology. Her hands worked quickly, tightly securing the bandage. You felt her lips place a soft kiss on your once exposed skin.

She looked up towards you, eyes trying to find yours, but you refused to meet her gaze, worried to see what you might find in them.

Would she be annoyed, angry, disappointed?

“Hey” Her voice caught your attention, pulling you slightly out of the thoughts that were beginning to consume you.

“what's on your mind love?” she questioned, her hand cupping your cheek with softness the other still keeping its place on your thigh, rubbing soft patterns along the bandaged skin.

“I'm sorry” the whispered words left your lips so softly she almost didn't hear them.

“You have nothing to be sorry for baby” she sat down beside you, pulling you to sit in her lap. Her fingers making their way to your hair, “this happens, okay? Its apart of process”

The tears in your eyes started to fall at her words. You knew this was a part of recovery, a part of getting better, but it didn't make it any less hard, no matter how many times it happens.

“How about we get up, hm? And we get into some comfortable clothes and cuddle in bed?” she asked, dragging her fingers through your hair. “We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, love- not yet anyway”. You nodded your head at her question, arms going around her neck as she carried you out of the bathroom towards your shared bedroom, placing you on top of the bed gently.

You watched as she pulled clothes out of her side of the wardrobe, both for you and her. your eyes beginning to stray back down to your wounded skin, tears still flowing as guilt pooled in your stomach, again.

“Arms up” Leahs hushed voice reached your ear as her finger tugged on the hem of your tank top. Your arms moved mechanically, feeling your top slide over your head; quickly being replaced by a familiar arsenal hoodie. A warm comfort filled your body as the smell of Leahs perfume wrapped around you like a hug.

Your eyes strayed on her figure as you watched her change into her own clothes before climbing under the covers of the bed, her arms reaching out towards you. A small smile tugged at your lips as you took in the sight in front of you, her hair a perfect mess on top of her head; blond flyways framing her face and her grey hoodie pulled slightly over her head. Her lips holding a slight smile as you looked at her.

“Quit staring and get over here” her voice was playful as she pulled back the cover, beckoning you over. You quickly obliged, practically launching your body towards your gf and flopping your body down into her awaiting arms. Her hand found its way to your hair, softly stroking her fingers through the curls while the other found its way to your waist, pulling you in closer to her.

You’re not sure how long you stayed there but the feeling of Leahs fingers carding themselves through your hair and tracing delicate patterns along your exposed skin; made your eyes heavy with sleep. A small yawn slipped from your mouth as you nuzzled your face closer in the crook of her neck.

“Go to sleep my love” her lips pressed a longing kiss to the top of your head, spreading a warm feeling of comfort through your body as you closed your eyes.

“I love you” your voice came out muffled, laced with sleepiness, making a small slip pass Leahs lips.

“I love you more.”

#woso #arsenal women #woso fanfics #woso imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson fanfic

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vmiina · 2 days ago

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threesome with ruby and dean :(!!

your thighs are wrapped around dean’s head as he sucks on your clit, like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. his toned arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer to him so he could get more of you. his green irises gleaming as he stares into your eyes through his thick eyelashes, his pupils blown wide. his eyes shift to your side, the soft gleam in them disappearing almost immediately as he sees ruby.

if looks could kill ruby would be dead by now, dean narrows his eyes, like he’s trying to see right past her. but you didn’t notice that. too busy focusing on the feeling of ruby’s lips against your own, the kiss was full of need, pent-up frustration and pure sin. it wasn’t gentle either, it was full of possessive force, all of it coming from ruby. her tongue claims more territory as she deepens the kiss, the heat of everything almost too overwhelming. both dean and ruby devouring you with their tongues.

no matter how many times you three did this together, no matter how many times he was around you and ruby, you were the only one of those two that he softened for. he’s always thought of ruby as nothing but a manipulative demon, always getting in his way. he never liked her, but since you always insisted on having her there too he couldn’t say no, right? and besides he enjoyed the way she always had you like a whimpering mess, wrapped around her finger.

your soft gasps and moans are muffled by ruby’s lips, which is honestly good since noises you’re making would definitely be heard to the room next door. the motel walls aren’t that thick, dean had said many times, from experience. you couldn’t breathe, feeling overstimulated all over, but you couldn’t pull away from either ruby or dean. ruby’s lips too intoxicating on yours, and dean’s grip on your thighs nearly bruising. ruby brushes your hair out of your face softly, her nails tangling with your locs as she caresses your hair.

ruby eventually breaks the kiss, letting out a soft sigh at the loss of your lips. as soon as the kiss broke you let out a soft cry, finally letting dean hear how good he’s making you feel, and if that didn’t make his already high-confidence even higher he doesn’t know what. “baby you gotta be quiet, don’t want the people next door t’hear you.” dean coos against your inner thigh, halting his actions for a moment, making you let out a soft whine. he presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh before he gently bites on it, sucking on the bite mark after, creating a faint red bruise there. it has you tugging on his hair, your nails scraping against his scalp.

“you heard him.” ruby coos, as if she’s mocking you for the noises you’re making. it has dean rolling his eyes, he didn’t need her confirming his words. dean removes his other hand from your thigh, bringing it between your legs as he teases your entrance with his fingers. pushing the his ring finger inside your pussy, watching you closely to observe your reaction. your warm gummy walls immediately clench around his finger, sucking it right in. it has dean grinning, like he’s proud of himself for getting you this riled up and needy.

it doesn’t take long for dean to find your g-spot, it’s like he knows your body better than you do. his fingers curl against the spongy spot inside you, it has your back arching off of the dingy motel bed. both dean and ruby seem extremely turned on by your responsiveness, with dean finally taking his other hand off your thigh to palm himself through his boxers. ruby on the other hand just observes mostly, her gaze full of lust, even she couldn’t deny that she really enjoyed the view. she squeezes her thighs together firmly, trying to ease some of the need coiling in her lower abdomen.

“that’s the spot ain’t it?” dean teases, his husky tone accompanied with a grunt. he rolls his hips into his palm, pressing a soft kiss to your aching clit. his hot breath fanning over the sensitive bud as his fingers work on you, adding onto the the pleasure. your hand reach towards ruby, grabbing the bedsheets a couple of times in the process until you actually manage to grip onto her hand, squeezing it in a way that’s almost painful, nails digging into her burning hot skin. “fuck— dean—“ you moan out, all whilst ruby cups your face, rubbing her thumb softly against your cheek, in a way that’s almost domestic.

dean slowly slips his middle finger inside you too, stretching you out. you didn’t even register the pain at first, only paying attention to the delicious feeling of his fingers fucking into you. your brows furrow, mouth agape as soft whimpers pour out in an unbroken rhythm, just a bit too loudly. “shut the fuck up.” ruby commands in a harsh tone, she really doesn’t want anyone to hear what you’re up to. for a moment you’re quiet, not wanting to disobey her, knowing what it could cause. but it doesn’t take long until you’re nothing but a moaning and a whimpering mess.

ruby sticks her fingers in your mouth, deep enough to elicit a gag reflex. she makes you suck on her fingers, in order to keep you quiet. you look at her, seeing smug grin on her lips. “jesus dean, don’t let her come too soon.” ruby orders, making you let out a strangled ‘no’ against her fingers, making her press your tongue down, making it impossible for you to protest. that’s one of the only thing ruby has said that dean can agree on, he shifts his gaze from you to her. “wasn’t plannin’ on it.” he says as he pulls his fingers completely out of your pussy, leaving you feeling empty, clenching around nothing.

dean scoots up, removing himself from between your legs where he had been nestled for what felt like an eternity. now straddling your hips but not daring to put his full weight on you, his boxer-clad hard on against your stomach. he brushes your hair out of your face before he presses a couple of gentle kisses all over your face, his cheek brushing lightly against ruby’s palm. “you think you’re ready to take me?” he purrs against your neck as he shifts down your body slowly, pressing kisses on each part. ruby takes her fingers out of your mouth, finally letting you breathe and speak properly. her fingers coated with your spit. “yes— please dean. i need you—“ you cry out, hips arching off the bed.

dean grabs you by your waist, flipping you around so you’re laying on your stomach. your face hovering inches over ruby’s pussy, covered by her lace panties, you could see a wet patch there and it turned you on even more. you’re too busy focusing on that so you don’t even realize that dean’s gripping you by your hips, lifting them so that your ass is in the air, so he can fuck you properly. ruby’s delicate fingers hover over the hem of her panties, slipping beneath them so she can pull them off.

dean’s boxers are long gone, he had thrown them somewhere across the motel room. he spits on his hand, bringing it down to stroke himself a couple times before he aligns himself with your entrance. the pink tip of his cock nearly red, coated with the precum oozing out. he grips the base of his length firmly, brushing it against your folds a couple times before he slides into you in one smooth move. filling you up in a way that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. ruby cups your cheek, relishing in the way you already look so fucked-out. she slaps your cheek a couple times, not hard enough to hurt but enough to sting in a way that gets you back to your senses.

“get your mouth on me, whore.” ruby demands as she grabs your hair, tugging it so that your mouth is hovering over her glistening cunt. dean pulls out completely, only to thrust all the way back in, throwing his head back. dean’s action made your head bump to ruby’s inner thigh, making you let out a soft whine. “c’mon, be good.” ruby says as she inches closer, making your lips connect with her clit. you wrap your trembling hands around her thighs, overwhelmed with pleasure. ruby’s just trying to get your attention off dean, to get all the attention to herself.

dean finds a steady pace, his hips pistoning against your ass, the filthy sounds of skin slapping filling the small motel room, bouncing off the walls. dean keeps his gaze locked on you between ruby’s legs, that sight could make him cum right there and then. and it nearly does, but only nearly. he has to squeeze his eyes shut, take a deep breath but the sight in front of him is burnt deep into his retinas. “you feel so good— shit baby.” dean practically whimpers out as he grips onto your hips tightly. you let out breathy moans against ruby’s aching pussy, her body trembling with each of your gentle licks.

“good fuckin’ girl.” ruby rasps out, even she lets a soft moan escape through her lips, her hands gripping your locs like a lifeline, pushing your head even closer to her heat. each flick of your tongue sending shock through her. “you like how he’s fuckin’ you huh? you feel good?” ruby taunts you softly, as you lap up at her juices. letting out a incoherent answer, scratching at her thighs, leaving red marks behind. “already fucked dumb, didn’t take much.” dean scoffs as he presses a gentle kiss to your back, lips tracing your spine.

you start to suck on ruby’s clit, even biting down on it a couple times. it has ruby’s hips shuddering as she nears her climax, it doesn’t take much, she’s so goddamn pent up. she grinds her cunt against your face, wanting you to devour every inch of her. “pleaseugh—“ you beg, not even sure for what. dean’s thrusts becoming sloppy, your walls gripping onto him in a way that makes it almost impossible to plunge out of you. “ease up.” dean grunts as he lands a harsh smack on your ass, leaving his handprint on the skin there.

after a while ruby finally comes with a cry, making you devour every single drip of her fluids. as she pulls back, you bury your arousal-coated face in the sheets, gripping them so hard your knuckles turn white. dean keeps going at a bruising pace, but you can tell how close he is by his shaky breath, the movement of his hips faltering for a moment as he releases inside you with a loud whine. coating your insides white, with you leaving a creamy ring around the base of his cock “you’re so goddamn good, a fuckin’ gem.” dean husks as he pulls out, letting you collapse to the bed.

saw a tiktok that said something like “imagine having a boyfriend and a girlfriend who hate each other” and that kinda inspired this. literally my sweet babies ugh i love them so much ☹️☹️.

#dean winchester #ruby #dean winchester smut #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #ruby x reader #supernatural smut #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester imagine #ruby supernatural

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bybobbysbeard · 24 hours ago

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Arrivals

Day 8 for @bucktommyfluffebruary: surprise read on ao3 read other days here

Buck smells like an airport. He couldn’t accurately describe what that smell entails, but he knows he stinks of it. He’s exhausted, his feet hurt, and his bad leg is swollen from the pressure changes. He wants to take his sneakers off, drink a massive glass of icy-cold water, and fall into bed; in that order.

But no matter how crappy he feels, he won’t let a single word of complaint pass his lips. Any discomfort he’s experiencing has to be dwarfed by what Maddie’s going through. She just did the same amount of traveling as him, and she's six months pregnant. Thank God they were only in Pennsylvania for the weekend. His Mom’s retirement party went well, Buck didn’t make a fool of himself, and Maddie was glowing. But being with his parents was as exhausting as ever.

And that’s not including the fact that they still have no idea how to deal with Buck dating a man.

They have never cared about anyone he’s dated before, as long as he wasn’t embarrassing them or getting a girl pregnant. And then they saw him with Tommy at Maddie’s wedding. They didn’t say anything, but Buck could feel his Mom’s eyes on him the whole time. Even as he escorted a half-asleep Tommy to his Jeep, they only waved half-heartedly. He assumed they had decided it was a phase, and didn’t need to introduce themselves.

When he told them on Friday that Tommy was on special deployment, or he would have brought him along, his mom stuttered over three different sentence starts. She finally ended up with, “I didn’t realize you were still with him.”

Before Buck could think better of it, he said, “Technically, I’m with him again.” That had kicked off a barebones explanation of their break-up and reconciliation, which his parents had not reacted well to.

The rest of the weekend continued in the same tone.

The pointed, leading questions, which he pretended to misunderstand. The insinuations that he didn’t know his own mind, which he ignored. The blatant aspersions against Tommy, blaming him for confusing Evan and leading him on. Those he addressed immediately, and at one point, it would have devolved into a shouting match, if not for Maddie.

Suffice to say, he’s happy to be back in Los Angeles, even if he still has an hour long Uber ride ahead of him. Normally, he knows his family would be tripping over themselves to pick them up from the airport, but Chimney is home with a still-sick-but-recovering Jee, and the rest of the 118 is on shift. Most disappointingly, Tommy’s still fighting the wildfires up north, piloting water bombers for another week and a half.

Buck will be going home to an empty loft.

The baggage carousel comes into view, so Buck parks Maddie by a nearby column and goes to wait for their bags. She’s digging her cell out as he turns away. He checks his own phone, finds ‘welcome home’ messages from the group chat, but nothing from Tommy. He’s probably in the air. Or sleeping. Eventually, a familiar navy bag and maroon suitcase come into view. His duffle gets slung over a shoulder and he leads Maddie’s wheeling suitcase over. They head towards Arrivals without any words exchanged. Maddie’s walking slowly, obviously tired, breath puffing out of her mouth as she rests one hand low on her belly. Buck wraps an arm around her shoulders and she leans into him.

“I wish Chimney and Jee could have come with us. He’s so good with Mom and Dad, and Jee is so distracting.” She sighs. “I’m sorry again. About what they were saying. I wish they would just be happy for you.”

“It’s alright Mads, I wasn’t about to let you fly to Hershey all alone. I can deal with them for a weekend.”

She lapses into silence again. They turn another corner and step onto an escalator, finally descending to ground level. The Arrivals area is a wider section of the terminal, an open space, right by the main exit. Floor to ceiling windows let in the setting sun. There’s people all around, reunions between travelers and their families happening in a hundred different languages, a hundred different cultures. Buck steers them through the crowd, hearing the laughter and tears in the voices surrounding them. There’s a line of people by the doors, holding signs. Sunbeams edge everyone in gold.

One of the signs says “Buckley.”

Wait, what? His eyes jerk from the sign to the man holding it.

Holy shit. It’s Tommy. How?!

Buck stops dead. Their eyes meet. He knows his mouth is hanging open. Tommy’s smiling widely, almost laughing at the dumbfounded expression that Buck knows he’s sporting. His face crinkles adorably with the force of his joy. His eyes are sparkling.

The arm Buck has around Maddie’s shoulder jerks her to a stop too. People continue to stream around them. She darts a look at his face, bursting into laughter and following his gaze to Tommy. She waves, still giggling. Tommy’s already striding over, eating up the distance between them until he's close enough to touch.

Two big hands settle on his cheeks, pinkies applying the smallest pressure to his jaw. His teeth clack together when he finally remembers to shut his mouth. A chaste, gentle kiss is pressed to his lips.

“Hi baby. Welcome home.”

Stupidly, all Buck can think to say is, “you’re supposed to be in Oregon.”

Tommy chuckles. “I was, but the Canadians showed up early, so they sent us home.” His hands drop down to wrap around Buck’s. Their fingers intertwine without Buck’s input. “Surprised?”

Buck nods. He recognizes he’s staring, like Tommy is a hallucination that might disappear at any second, but it's been nearly three weeks since he’s seen his boyfriend. He’s just had a shitty weekend in his hometown, playing the part of a dutiful son to strangers, while worrying about his sister and his unborn nibling, and dealing with the casual disregard he’s come to expect from his parents. Only this time, there was a nice heaping tablespoon of biphobia sprinkled on top. He needs a minute.

Maddie lays a hand on both of their elbows. “Good timing Tommy, I was worried we were going to beat you to the exit.”

Buck whips his head around to stare at her. “You knew!”

She giggles again. He spins back to Tommy. He’s flushed from laughter, radiant in the early evening light. Buck’s gaze darts over his face. His blue eyes, his crow’s feet, his perfect teeth. The cleft. He’s beautiful, and he’s here for Buck.

It feels like his brain finally comes back online. Tommy’s here. For Buck.

Buck lunges forward, driving a little oomph out of Tommy and wrapping his arms around him tightly. He squeezes and lifts, hoisting Tommy a few inches into the air, making him flail and squeak out an undignified noise. Maddie snorts, bending at the waist, helpless with mirth. Tommy’s hands land on his shoulders, fingertips digging into the muscle, little spots of warm pressure.

“Evan! Put me down, oh my God. I missed you too!”

#bucktommyfluffebruary #bucktommy #tevan #my fic #911 abc #still ✨two days behind✨

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cloudgirlsonfilm · 3 days ago

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just answering these all on my own for hitorei because im thinking about them... :] (also gonna be focusing on lili as opposed to myself but some answers might be about me val ^^)

1. rei reminds me of many! snakes, peacocks, tanukis, foxes, hawks... anything flashy or elusive. hitoya is like a bulldog to me

2. me personally i'd give hitoya a gift card to some high-end steakhouse. or a bottle of scotch. and i'd give rei a pie to the face or perhaps rocks. lili might give him something slightly better but idk what

3. i don't know if hitoya lili OR rei have hobbies 💀💀 they're all too employed for that (and rei... is rei). THOUGH i do think hitoya wanted to do magic tricks at a point? it'd be cute if he still knew some tricks and taught them to lili, and then she uses the sleight of hand on rei to make him laugh... lili and rei used to read together a lot when they first became a couple too

4. hitoya sweeps dusts vacuums washes dishes you name it. i think he's very clean, and would make sure to stay on top of it even if he's run thin from work (just more distraction from The Feelings). rei leaves a mess in his wake

5. both of them yes. bonus points for hitoya for (probably) being able to drive a motorcycle too

6. unsure... i think hitolili both use very generic ones, rei has a special ringtone for lili that he like.. recorded himself or something so its unmistaken

7. hitoya would if a situation called for it, rei would if a situation called for it but he's manufacturing the situation himself so he can logically argue with someone online and then get something out of them

8. i think hitoya would seem outwardly stressed by the idea, but actually be very accepting of it (guy who has probably sat through kuko talking about reincarnation). to me rei is the opposite, outwardly indulges the idea but secretly feels stressed or even forlorn about it

9. OH GODDD lili probably gets mixed reviews when introducing rei because everyone can tell there's something about those two that needs to stay in containment

10. receiving a hug from behind in the kitchen or laying in bed together

11. idfk. old woman yaoi

12. hitoya i think is a silvery purple, rei i associate with dark red and gold

13. hitoya introduces lili as a good friend (no one believes him, which she's amused by), rei introduces lili as a drinking buddy of sorts (not exactly wrong, but it frustrates her)

14. if they're not perceiving lili as a doggirl what's the point...

15. hitoya would take lili out to dinner, rei would take lili out for drinks

16. hitoya/rei probably don't consciously think of any pet names for lili... rei calls her 'baby' all the time, but he calls a lot of girls 'baby' LOL. just saying lili's name makes him flustered though

17. hitoya likes sitting in the same room and doing seperate things, rei likes drinking (a given) and engaging in hands-on things together (he strikes me as a type to enjoy mixing vegetables while the other chops them, or doing lego sets together [first hands-on thing i could think of 😭😭😭 but tbh he probably needs that instead of inventing crazy shit])

18. hitoya shows it best through staying by lili's side, trying to be of some comfort, providing her with a place to stay when she needs to fall back on someone. rei shows it best through indirect actions-- ordering in food without being asked to, placing elaborate gift bags on the counter for lili to find later, putting her through a busy day so she feels alive again. lili also has a very weak spot for whenever rei talks really smooth

19. hitoya likes lili's eyes and lips, rei likes her legs and her freckles (her legs happen to have a lot of distinctive moles too)

20. i love how compassionate hitoya is, even if he doesn't give himself the credit that he is!! i love his conviction and his dedication to helping others find justice, peace and joy. rei i love for very opposite reasons LMAO i like that he's elusive and scheming. but i also like how he has a very obvious soft side no matter how much he tries to play the bad guy, but i ALSO like that this cruelly blends into all the bad things he's done. i like how complex he is...

21. i think hitoya's drawing of lili would be kind of sharp, brick-like, and i think she'd laugh and say it's kind of abstract in a way (this is not at all what he intended). i think rei's would be a little more realistic, maybe even scarily so, but i think he'd struggle to make it not look like a scientific plan of sorts (which would make lili roll her eyes a little)

22. yes. hitoya might complain about how big of a bite is taken, rei orders extras to make sure no one goes hungry

23. hitoya associates lili with blue (her uniform) and salmon (her favourite colour), rei associates her with pink (her affiliation with chuo and it's close to her favourite colour, also a colour she used to wear a lot of)

F/O Ask Game!!

A list of questions to answer about your f/o!! You guys can just go down the list and answer them all (I'd love to see it!!!) in a reblog, orrr you can reblog and have others ask you these questions in your inbox! Have fun!! PR.OSHI.P, NOT FOR YOU!

What animal does your f/o remind you of?

If you got your f/o a gift, what would you get them?

What is your favorite hobby to think about doing with your f/o?

What chores would your f/o do around the house? Are there any they REALLY dislike?

Would you trust your f/o to drive a car?

What kind of ringtone or notification sound would you have for your f/o?

Would your f/o fight someone online?

Does your f/o believe in soulmates?

How would you introduce your f/o to your friends? How do you think that would go?

What's the first scenario that comes to your head when you think of being with your f/o?

What dynamic would you use to describe you and your f/o?

What color do you associate with your f/o?

How would your f/o introduce you to those they care about? How do you think that would go?

What animal do you remind your f/o of?

What would your f/o get you for Valentine's day, if anything?

What does your f/o call you in their head? What do they call you aloud/to others?

What does your f/o like doing with you the most?

How does your f/o show their love best?

What's your f/o's favorite feature of yours?

What're your f/o's favorite personality traits of yours?

If your f/o drew you, how would you describe the art piece?

Does your f/o share food with you?

What color would your f/o associate you with?

What?? Who's tagging their friends again?- not me... I just really wanna see yalls answers. Formal invitation lest you become worried I don't wanna see it. @jpeg-indulgence @starshakez @moxanji-real @frankys-wife @katsenbergs-soulmate @katanahusband @fl0ralsxgar @one-winged-dreams AND LITERALLY ANYONE WHO SEES THIS.

#hitolilirei #long post #.💬

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 day ago

Note

I have something for Johnny if you want.

Johnny x shy!reader that has scarlet witch powers? Being Johnny girlfriend and Johnny family adores shy!reader

‘I’m starting to think my family likes you more then me at this point.’ Johnny says one day as he face planted your shared bed.

‘How so Johnny?’ You asked sweetly as you waved your hand as you brought a blanket over your boyfriend’s body with your magic, never failing to notice the soft smile that grew across his face as he lifts himself from the pillow to face you.

‘Are you kidding me? I mean look at you!’ He exclaims as he gestures to all of you shamelessly, making you feel a little exposed by his beautiful brown doe eyes that never seemed to fail in making you melt. ‘You’re sweet, compassionate, adorable to an unfair extent it makes me question how a being as beautiful as you could exist, and did I forget to mention that you’re an absolute badass with your powers?’ Johnny adds with a smirk as he saw how easily affected you were by his words as he counts off everything he found to adore you for on his fingers.

You groan playfully as you smacked Johnny on his bicep, a sheepish smile began to spread across your lips, all the while attempting to fight back the butterflies that were making their presence known within your stomach. It didn’t matter if you were dating Johnny for a few weeks or a few months, for he would always find ways to make you feel as though no time has passed between the two of you.

You at first didn’t want anything to do with the cocky, overly confident, playboy known as Johnny Storm and stayed away from him for a good while…until you couldn’t and it lead to what you considered the best decision you ever made in agreeing to let him take you on a date. However recently Johnny’s sister Sue, her husband Reed and Ben had been taking note of the subtle changes within johnny and knew someone was the reason behind it, which had lead to Johnny dragging you to the Baxter building more times then you can count to meet his family; whom of which had grown a fondness towards you and your positive influence on Johnny himself.

‘Johnny…’ you drew out his name as you buried your head into his shoulder, holding him close as you selfishly leeched off of his warmth, not that you’d ever tell him this but you were certain with how eager he was to keep you in his arms chuckling. He was very much aware and was more than willing to indulge you as he was just as much addicted to your soft, comforting hugs that he swore to high heavens he would die without.

‘I’m not lying! You should hear them half of the time! Where’s y/n? Johnny, go get your better looking partner. Johnny, where is my future sibling in law, you can’t hog them all the time.’ Johnny replied as he made dramatic voices for the likes of Sue, Ben and Reed based on the most recent interactions with them, most of which were asking for you or wondering how you were in general. Johnny didn’t mind, if anything he was downright ecstatic knowing that his family were just as obsessed with you as he was, he adored how you and his sister got along the most; knowing straight away from the moment he found you and his family sharing stories in the kitchen that this was something he wanted to see more often in the future.

Commitment wasn’t his thing, it never was until he met you, and as cliche as that sounded -and he knew just how cliche it came across- but it was true and Johnny wouldn’t want it any other way. He’d even claim you had put some type of spell on him, to which you only hide your smile from his groan inducing joke in regard to your magical abilities. He even remembered the day that he realised that you were the type of person he wanted to bring to his family, something he never gave a deeper insight into before you mind you as he never felt that deep of connection.

So everyday when he wakes up to see you cuddled into his side peacefully and safely, he considered himself the most luckiest man alive, and he didn’t bother to hide it either as he bragged to anyone with ears that someone as wonderful as you had chosen a hotheaded stud muffin -his words- like him.

You smiled as you cuddled further into him, knowing firsthand that he was right, and you were still getting use to the idea that his family adored you from the moment Johnny brought you to your first of many Sunday family diners. You remembered sweating bullets and tugging at your formal attire, but Sue and Reed were more than welcoming and reassuring, meanwhile Ben was full on teasing Johnny about how he was growing into a true man.

However before you could respond you were quick to remember that you were very much late for your day out with Sue. You gasp upon realisation as you push Johnny away from you, who fell back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief that you had just pushed him away. ‘I’m late!’ You cried as you moved away from your baffled boyfriend, who had propped himself to his arms.

‘Late for what?’ Johnny asks as he watched you sort yourself out for an outing he wasn’t aware was taking place.

You smiled softly, not wanting to give too much away of what you and Sue had planned prior. ‘Sue wanted help to find something for Reed for Valentine’s Day, and I agreed to help her.’ You half lied, well you weren’t lying about helping his sister find something for Reed, but what you had left out was the fact that you were also using this time to find something for Johnny yourself. To you he deserved something for being such an amazing partner, and you were thankful that Sue was more than happy to help you in doing so during your most recent late night conversations with the blonde woman.

‘I just want to find something for him that he’ll love,’ you told Sue as you allowed your magic to flourish between your fingertips, a nervous habit you had developed the moment you realised that you were capable of feet’s no other magic user has ever accomplished before, it was a comfort to you and brought your mind back to what was most important to you and what was most important to you was Johnny smiling.

She smiles, glad to know that her brother was blessed with someone like you, reached out to grab your hand in hers as she squeezed it in reassurance. ‘Whatever you get him, I’m certain Johnny will treasure forever.’

‘Really? You really think so?’ You asked her, still a little nervous despite having been with Johnny for a while, but that man had a way to make you feel as though you were falling for him all over again and you wanted to hate him for it, and yet you found yourself becoming shy and flustered whenever the man even threw his arm over your shoulder. If this was what love was like then you hoped to stay in this never ending state of adoration and mutual understanding for as long as you could.

‘I know so.’ Sue replied, her eyes had a knowing look to them. ‘Johnny would take anything you give him becuase you were the one that give it to him, that thought that he would like it and all he’ll care about is that you had him on the mind and to show that you care about him.’ She finished, squeezing your hand again when she saw sparks of your magic come to life at your fingertips, rubbing her thumb across the back of your hand. You smiled at her. ‘Then I can’t wait for tomorrow.’ You tell her, beaming.

Johnny smiled from his place on the bed, again happy to see you and his sister bond and become close to one another, it was a simple thing that he didn’t know he needed but then again that was the magical thing about you. You made him want simple and small things that he would’ve taken for granted, or not even considered in the first place, and for that he couldn’t help but find himself wanting moments like this in your future together.

However before Johnny could open his mouth to push you for more details on your outing with his sister, the door opened to reveal Sue stood on the other side, obviously having been waiting for you but not showing an ounce of annoyance in the slightest.

‘I’m here to steal your partner.’ Sue says to her brother as she grasps your arm, pulling you to her side.

‘Not the first time my beloved is being stolen from me by you, Reed or Ben.’ Johnny scoffs playfully as he watched you and Sue link arms, already acting like you were in laws for a long time with how relaxed and comfortable you were with one another.

‘Oh you can have them back as soon as we’re finished shopping.’ Sue retorted.

‘So like ten hours from now?’ Johnny sarcastically replies with and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sibling squabble, making him look at you with a warm smile. ‘Don’t I get a goodbye kiss at least from my most beloved?’ Before you could give him his kiss, Sue drags you out of the room with her and out the door, though not before shouting over her shoulder followed by your laughter. ‘You’ve had enough time today to trade kisses, now you have to wait.’

Johnny only groans dramatically as he flops back onto his bed, impatiently waiting for you to come back not even seconds after you left his room, he really was in love like the sappy bastard Ben teased him in being.

#johnny storm x y/n #johnny storm x you #johnny storm fanfiction #johnny storm fluff #johnny storm x reader #fantastic four imagines #fantastic four imagine #fantastic four x reader #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #mcu imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines

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