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kamiversee · 1 month

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˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

6 | like a feather.

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | language, rough sex, degrading, praise, overstim, edging, teasing, taunting, Choso's mean because yes, filth, praise, pussydrunk Choso, feral activities, etc.

❧ Word Count | 5.6k

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——Clothes scattered to the floor, soft pants leaving both of your lips while his two big hands grip the underside of your thighs and spread you nice and wide for him. You always knew your best friend was stupidly attractive but it’s entirely different when you’re about to have sex with him.

His hips were easing back and forth, boxers long discarded and the fat tip of his swollen cock rubbing all in between your slicked folds. And there you are with your hands above your head where he last told you to keep them, watching him with a gaping mouth as he sits there and teases your cunt.

Choso’s body was slightly glistening in that dim lighting of his bedroom, his abs tensing along with his eyebrows every time he pushed his hips forward just to watch his flushed tip slip against your pussy. The messy little sound of your slick wetting up his cock drove both you and him wild.

He was such a damn tease. So mean with the way he’d barely push the tip of his cock inside you, just to draw his hips back and bite his lip at the way his tip slides against your sloppy slit. He was driving you insane.

So much so that you soon brought one hand down to attempt to relieve yourself, Choso’s dark brown eyes flicker up to your face in warning, “What’d I tell you about that, hm?”

You let off a sweet yet desperate whine, “Choso, please?” Your hand goes idle and he smirks.

Nodding his chin at your hand now out of place, “Put your arm back where I had it, princess. M’not gonna tell you again,” Choso says in that deep voice of his. Then he’s easing his hips back again, angling himself so that his cock pressing right against your needy hole, “This is where you want me, right?”

“Mhm,” You hum, pulling your lower lip into your mouth. This was almost embarrassing— your hands above your head, his hands on your thighs, and only his hips being in control of how his cock angles against you. “Cho, hah… you said you’d treat me like a slut so-“

“No,” He interrupts so casually as he glances down to the obscene display of his cock rutting in between your folds, “I said I’d treat her,” Choso spits straight down onto his tip, tilting his head and smirking as he makes even more of a mess below, “Like a slut. Big difference, princess.”

You merely pout at that, your eyes softening in utter desperation as you lift your hips slightly— attempting to feel more of him, “Either way,” You huff softly, “You said you wanted to fuck me so just…”

“Just what?” Choso breathes out, dragging his heavy cock back and forth against you once more.

You swear you’ve been pleading for him for the past thirty minutes or so, “Fuck me-“

Choso smirks, “Beg for it,” He says suddenly as he shifts his angry cockhead away from you for a second just to tap his tip against you moments later, “Since you want it so badly, beg for it-, beg for me.”

You hate the way his lowly spoken words have you complying without thought, “Please?” Such a light little whine was hushed out and there he was biting back a groan.

He couldn’t even bring himself to deny you any further. As much as he enjoys teasing you and rubbing his leaky tip up and down your sloppy folds, feeling you twitch against him every time he speaks, leak with every glance, and whine at the faintest loss of him— Choso doesn’t think there’s anything that compares to the way you sound gasping out his name as he finally angles his cock into you.

And sure, you had plenty of time to admire his cock before he started pushing into you but fuck the last thing you were expecting is this mean curve of his. Pushing in inch by inch, his brows tensing and jaw-dropping, Choso was on the verge of moaning at how you felt around him.

Hell, he practically loses himself completely. His hands move away from your thighs and he leans down to you, feeling your legs wrap around his waist as he keeps pushing in and in and in. You could hear his breath hitching as his cock slides deeper inside you but what really caught you off guard is his struggle to talk.

Choso’s hair is still a complete mess and you notice how breathy his voice is, “Oh fuck,” He gasps with his brows fully tense, “You’re so-, agh… so fuckin’ warm, shit.”

And you’re both adjusting to each other perfectly fine at first. He’s easing himself in and out of you carefully, pulling his hips back and then rolling them back down slowly-, carefully even. That is, until his eyes focus on your face. Maybe it was the way your eyes hazily met his, or the sound of you gasping every time he humped his heavy cock deeper into you but, either way, it makes him groan.

“Fuuck,” Choso drags out, “Look at you,” He coos, tilting his head as his eyes rake up and down your expression, “Y’look so pretty like this,” He suddenly compliments.

Both his tone and oddly kind words make your cunt squeeze around him, earning a hiss from his mouth. “You only think m’pretty when you’re fucking me?” You whisper almost jokingly.

Choso shrugs and your little joke makes him smile, “I’ve called you pretty before, haven’t I?” He murmurs back to you.

As this little chat continues, he’s slowly picking up his pace inside you, “N-Not recently, no,” You stammer.

“Well, I’d keep complimenting you but uh,” Choso clicks his tongue and you feel his hands latch onto your thighs again. Then, in an instant, he’s moving your legs up and pressing them down against your chest, “That’s not how you wanna be treated tonight, now is it?” He finishes.

You would’ve answered him normally but the way his cock plunges deeper inside you, hitting somewhere all too sweet, has you choking on whatever it is you were gonna say. And he notices it too, the slight shift in your breathing, the way a whine gets caught in your throat, and your cunt clenching around him as if you didn’t want him to move.

“You’d much rather be treated like a lil’ whore f’me, right?” Choso huffs out rhetorically. Of course, he expects no real answer from you while he stuffs you full of his cock, ignoring how tightly you’re clamping around him.

The sounds are so filthy too— your cunt was soaked, sopping even, as he thrusts his swollen cock into you. That syrupy squelch had Choso in a goddamn trance, his eyes flickering back, the veins decorating his muscular arms tensing as he fucks himself deeper and deeper inside you. Choso’s lips part at some point and he groans, feeling your legs dangle against his shoulders and the way your pussy narrows around his thick shaft.

The sheets below were already wet from you, followed by that obscene sound of slick coating his curved cock as he angles it into you. Your moans were being drowned out by the melodic sound of your pussy and it had Choso in a chokehold.

Maybe it’s because you’re his best friend and he’s known you for about eight years but, Choso seems to know your body like the back of his hand. Shifting himself right where you need him, feeling your pussy gush as his tip knocks into your sweet spot repeatedly.

“C-Choso,” You gasp, “Fuck, mmgh…”

Choso shakes his head almost in disbelief suddenly, “Comin’ in my room late at night,” He starts off, losing himself in his replay of how the two of you ended up like this in the first place, “Askin’ me for ‘advice’ knowing damn well all you needed was for someone t’fuck you properly,” He grunts out that last word with a heavy thrust, watching your eyes flicker back.

While your eyes lull back, you’re gasping out a teasing little response back to him, “Don’t ah-, a-act like you didn’t want the-, hah… same thing, Cho.”

His lips twitch at the sound of your breathy voice, his hips growing more calculated with you, “Huh?”

“You’ve probably been f-fantasizing about this all d-day…” Your bottom lip slips into a slight pout as you hush those words out to him.

All Choso can do is smile at that. He can’t exactly say he hasn’t thought about this very moment once or twice today, “Think so?” He soon muses.

Waiting for your answer, he watches the number of times your face twists up– studying you, fucking his fat cock into you harder, holding back his noises, and-, hell, he was nearly holding his breath just so he could savor every little sound that leaves those pretty lips of yours.

“Uhuh…” You eventually gasp out.

Choso blinks away from his intense focus to the sounds he can get out of you, “What’s it feel like?”

Your brows twist up and your eyes flicker as you struggle to process his question, “Hm?”

“Does it feel like I’ve been fantasizing ‘bout this all day?” Choso emphasizes with a particularly hard thrust, “Huh?”

And oh how you love teasing your best friend, even when his cock is a hefty seven inches deep inside you, “N-No..” You mumble to the man, watching the immediate way his face twists up.

“No?” Choso practically scowls at you, “So I’m not fuckin’ you hard enough?”

A small little smile spreads across your face as your glossed-up eyes meet his, “Y-You could… mmgh, you could be fuckin’ me harder.”

Choso’s practically speechless for a second, continuing with his same ‘steady’ pace as he cocks his head to the side, “This isn’t enough for ya’, huh?”

“N-No, I just-“

“Greedy girl,” Is the last thing he growls out before pressing his weight down against you.

The underside of your thighs sandwiches against his chest and you swear you feel his cock twitching wildly inside you. Choso’s hips pivot down against you as he positions himself to be a bit more firm with the way he’s fucking you.

Your eyes nearly cross at how he has you folded up and unable to move, forced to take every unforgiving inch of his angry curved cock. Then he has the nerve to stare you dead in your eyes with his low-lidded ones, deep brown eyes dilating the longer he looks at you.

“Oh fuck,” You gasp, feeling him slip his thumb in between the two of you and down to your clit.

Choso smirks again, “Look at you— fuckin’ droolin’ f’me,” He points out as his gaze dances down to the small trail of saliva leaving your lips.

You were almost completely out of it, clenching around him so desperately, moaning so loud that the neighbor would be ready for the noise complaint within twenty-four hours, and making this fucking face that had Choso pounding you down into his bed.

God if you weren’t every bit of sexy at this very moment.

“Choso,” You choke out as he thumbs your clit in small merciless little circles and doesn’t let up on you for even a second.

“Don’t Choso me,” He scoffs, “You wanted me to go harder ‘nd that’s what I’m doin’.”

The two of you are pretty sure his words are going through one ear and out the other because with the way your eyes are lulling to the back of your skull and you’re left under him just gasping and gaping with every thrust— you’re both positive that you’re pretty cockdrunk at this point.

How could you not be? You don’t know if you’d say it aloud but fuck is Choso’s cock huge. He hits all the right places and more, places you didn't even realize you had. And to make matters worse, he knows what he’s doing too. He just eyes the way your lashes flutter, listens for a specifically pitched whine of his name to leave your throat, and feels that soul-sucking grip you have around his dick every time he tries to tug his hips back— all of which lets him know he’s doing something right.

But then again, the sound of you blabbing out things like, “Feels so g-good, hah..” Assures him as well.

To which he lets his little ego present itself to you, “Oh I know it does, princess.” Choso whispers, tipping his head down a bit to lick that earlier slip of drool from off of your chin.

You pay almost no mind to it though, too distracted by that ego of his, “Cocky hgnh, b-bastard.”

“Hm?” Choso hums before softly kissing at the corner of your lips and whispering yet again, “What was that?”

“You heard me.” You grit out.

He can’t help his grin. Maybe your voice turned him on or something because every time you said something, especially if it was something teasing, his cockhead is just dripping inside you and you can feel his veins throbbing against your plush walls.

“Nah, repeat that f’me,” He hums, slowing his pace ever so slightly, “Cocky what?”

“C-Choso-,” You gasp again as the creaking of the bed slows and his thumb rolls upwards against your clit.

He kisses the edge of your mouth again, “Say it again. C’mon, lemme hear you this time.”

You moan softly, feeling his cock curve right into where you needed him most, “Bastard, hah..”

“I’m no bastard, baby. Cause if I was…” He pauses to take a breath before smirking, “I’d do somethin’ like this,” And then his cock slips out of you completely and you nearly spasm.

The mean loss of him so suddenly had you on the verge of tears. Gasping a whiny little, “Put it back in, Cho. Pleease?”

To which he just decides to be an asshole for a bit longer and thrust his bulging cock against your throbbing cunt instead of inside you. “Put it back in, huh? But I thought I was a bastard, princess?”

“Choso, p-please,” You whisper. You were about to lose your damn mind, he was exactly where you needed him and now your cunt’s just clenching around nothing, “I-I’m so close.”

“Yeah?” Choso responds as if he didn’t know that already, “You were ready t’cum f’me?”

You nod desperately, “Uhuh.”

Then he’s leaning up, easing his weight off of you as he sits back on his heels. “So you’re done bein’ a lil’ brat then, right?” He asks with a little huff.

As if not to have him get too far away from you, you ease your legs down from your chest and shift closer to him. “Mhm,” You hum mindlessly with a cute attempt at reaching your hand down for his cock again.

Choso’s eyes follow your hand almost in a daze, mesmerized by how needy you are for him, “Promise?”

“Pinky promise Cho, now please..” You huff.

“Ready to take all of me like the good slut you promised to be f’me?” He asks almost finally. Then, he’s reaching for your hips and repositioning both of you— flipping himself over and pulling you on top of him, “Hm?”

Your lashes bat as you’re repositioned to straddle him so quickly, “Y-Yes Choso.” You stammer with your eyes all over how he looks below you.

With his hair all laid out against the mattress, his chest rising and falling with every heavy breath he takes, his body slick with sweat, and muscular arms at his sides as he grabs a steady hold of your hips.

Then you’re looking down and spotting his cock— watching how it twitches so aggressively with nothing more than a mere glance from you, eyeing down how cum leaks from the slit of his blushing cockhead, and practically drooling all over again. And not in only one place because you think you just got impossibly wetter from the sight of him underneath you like this.

“Well?” Choso breathes out before moving to put his hands back behind his head, “I was tryin’ to be nice for once, princess. If you want it so bad, stop starin’ ‘nd just t-,” He stammers off with a throaty groan as your fingers wrap around his cock so suddenly, “T-Take it.”

Was this his way of submitting to you? You almost smirk at the thought of that alone, adjusting yourself above him so that your pussy is hovering right over his tip, grazing him with your moisture. Choso’s breathing picks up instantly and he almost starts to regret putting you on top of him, almost.

What saves him from that regret is probably how enamoring you look sinking yourself down on his cock. He thinks he sees your pupils dilate the very second his cock slides back inside you and your lips quiver open as you moan his name so damn deliciously.

Shit. Choso was going to let you do your own thing but simply watching you sink down on him so sensually has his hips lifting to meet yours. A pair of hands are soon placed on his chest as you force him to keep still and Choso’s head tips back against his bed, his cock aching inside you.

There was that warmth again, such slick and wet filthy warmth that just surrounds the entirety of his cock in almost one go.

“Oh, fuuuck me,” Choso groans unintentionally, his hands moving from behind his head and right back to your hips.

His sudden grip is so damn tight too, like he’s literally holding on for dear life. And hey, maybe he was. This was an entirely new angle inside your cunt after all. Choso doesn’t know if he’s imagining it but he thinks you got tighter within those few seconds he wasn’t inside you.

What really throws him off is the first rock of your hips against him. Choso lets out the moan he’s been holding in all this time and his hips are lifting again.

“Choso?” You whisper his name so suddenly that it just rips him from his daze completely.

Panting heavier than he remembers, his eyes flutter before they land on yours, “H-Huh?”

You slowly lift your hips up and his eyes drop down to the sight of your puffy lips pulling up off of his cock, revealing a surprising slick of white before you start sinking back down.

“Oh shit,” Choso gasps, realizing he came prematurely from nothing more than the change of positioning alone.

You’ve got the smug look on your face, “D-Did… Did you just…?”

He nods his head and squeezes his eyes shut, “…I did.”

Despite Choso’s sudden release, you nor him exactly stop at that point. If anything, you kinda laugh it off and move your hips gently against him, “Cho, is that all it takes to make you cum?” You suddenly tease.

He rolls his eyes at you and his hands slide up to hold your waist, “Don’t fuckin’ tease me,” Choso gasps slightly, relishing in the slight aftershock of his abrupt orgasm, “You don’t know how-, fuck, how good you feel.”

You drag your fingernail along his sculpted chest, blindly admiring each cut and crease of his abs while your hips idly rock back and forth at such a torturously slow pace. “So tell me then,” You tease, earning a hiss from him as your fingertip flicks over his flushed nipple.

Choso grits his teeth for a moment, lowly eyeing how confident you seem to have gotten. “I jus’ did,” He huffs, “Now stop bein’ difficult ‘nd just fuck-,” His throat clears as he corrects himself, “Ride me.”

You tilt your head at the man and twirl your finger around his all too perky nipple, only teasing him further, “Say please.”

“I’m not beggin’ you to do shit,” Choso huffs.

Such a damn brat he was, even underneath you and panting heavier and heavier each time you toyed with his chest a bit.

“Asshole,” You frown, leaning down to him a bit and causing your hips to lift up off his cock ever so slightly, “You made me beg.”

His lips twitch into a smirk, “Baby, why would I beg for somethin’ I already have?” Then his hands are slipping back down to your hips and he’s pushing you down on him again, “Remember, I’m the one that put you on top of me.”

The way your brows twist up and your face scrunches are all too cute. Choso imagined this moment with you here and there but his fantasies will never compare to the real thing. Especially not with the way he easily guides your hips against him and you just sit there with that scowl on your face, letting him have his way with you even while he’s under you.

“Fuck you,” You whisper while you sit up properly and frustratedly glance down to where you two are connected. The sight below is so damn lewd.

With a messy white ring of cum already collected around Choso’s thick base, your pussy lips stretched just to take every inch of him, and both of you throbbing for more— it was just purely obscene below.

“That’s all you have t’say? ‘Fuck me?’” Choso mocks, raising a brow, “What happened to all that confidence of yours, huh?”

You groan, “Do you ever stop, mmh-, talking?”

He moves to take his hands off of you and prop himself up on his elbows, shaking his head slightly to move some of his messy hair out of his face before cracking a smile, “Why would I?” He then nods his chin toward your lower half, “She likes when I talk.”

As if to fight back with more than just breathy words, your hips jerk forward and earn a quick tensing of his brows in pleasure, “No, ‘she’ would just love if you shut the hell up for one second,” Your words come out almost all at once as you feel his fat tip prodding against that mushy spot inside you again.

“She can come shut me up herself if that’s the case,” Choso taunts with a teasing lick of his lips, “S’that what you want? Wanna come put that pretty pussy on my mouth ‘nd shut me the hell up?”

A whine leaves your throat at the thought alone, your eyes focusing on his lips and that stupid smirk plastered across them. “N-No,” You stammer before pressing your hands flat against his chest again and pushing him down off of his elbows and flat on the bed.

He’s caught off guard all over again because then you’re lifting your hips and slamming them back down on him— forcing a moan from both of you.

Then he’s chuckling breathily, “Fuck, that’ll do it too.” Choso nods, “That’ll shut me up.”

“Yeah?” You huff as you continue with that aggressive bounce up and down on his cock.

Choso tips his head back again and nods once more, “Uhuh, jus’-, ah… jus’ k-keep doin’ that.”

You don’t have to be told twice. It was clear that something about you being on top of him drove him crazier than before. Something about feeling your cunt squeeze every inch of his cock as you lifted yourself, followed by the messy squelch of you plopping back down seconds later had his breath hitching again.

Choso’s no virgin but damn did you make him feel like one. He can hardly think properly as you ride him in earnest, bouncing yourself on his cock so prettily, simply taking what you want from him— hell, all he can think about is you and how well you’re taking him right now.

The heavenly little gasps of his name you keep letting out aren’t helping his situation either. Every little ‘Choso’ or ‘feels s’good’ that pours out of your mouth has his cock dripping against your inner walls again. The creaking of the bed had returned and you both allowed yourself to be as loud as either of you wished.

Surely there’d be a noise complaint from the neighbors the next morning. Especially as you reach your orgasm and your bouncing comes to a slow. Then you’re leaning down to him and he’s wrapping his arms around your waist as yours go around his neck.

Your breaths are shared and he could tell and feel you make a mess all over his cock. You’re panting and trying to keep moving but you just couldn’t do it yourself, you can’t keep going as your legs start to give out on you.

All that talk from before and now look at you— silently begging him to help you maintain your high. And who was Choso to ever deny you of such a thing?

As such, he’s shifting his legs around and planting his feet flat against the bed before he starts fucking his heavy cock up into you. His sudden movement earned a choked gasp of his name from you and he gapes at how your eyes roll back.

His hands move to your hips and you lean up slowly, your eyes hazily meeting his.

Then, Choso’s whispering to you, “Fuck me back, c’mon,” He encourages.

Your arms are a bit shaky from his thrusts but that doesn’t stop you from placing your hands on the bed and keeping yourself stable as you throw your hips back to meet his.

And god did he start to lose his mind again, thrusting-, no, pounding himself up into you over and over and over again like he was possessed. His jaw hangs open, mirroring yours while you two fuck each other stupidly. Had it become a competition or something? Because it damn sure felt like it.

And hey, you and Choso have always been like that. From the day you met to now, whatever you did with one another always became some kinda competition. Not that you were complaining now though, it was working out in your favor— even though he was winning (in a sense) with the way your body goes limp again and you just fall forward against him.

Then Choso’s whispering in your ear, “That’s all you got?” He chuckles, his hands gripping onto your hips tighter as he moves you himself.

You’re panting and whining against him, feeling the constant and relentless prodding of his thick leaky cockhead into the depths of your cunt. Shit, if he couldn’t think properly earlier, you damn sure couldn’t by this point. All you could process was how fucking full you were of him, how every bruising inch fit into you so perfectly over and over, and that filthy sound of your cum and his mixing to create such a big mess around his cock.

“C-Choso,” You gasp out, “Choso-, fuck..”

He hardly even heard your voice at first, too lost in the syrupy trance your pussy had him in before he’s grunting out a lazy response to you, “Huh?”

Then your breath is stuttering, “S-Slow down-, nngh… please?”

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” Choso groans, “I can’t-, fuuck, I can’t slow down, princess. N-Not yet,” He pants, “Just-, hah, jus’ lemme fuck you full again. Mmgh, please?”

You whimper before turning your head to meet his gaze, “T-Thought you weren’t-, ngh, gonna beg for anything?”

He smiles before dropping his eyes to your lips, “Shut up.” Choso hushes out finally before pressing his lips into yours.

You don’t know how he does it or where the hell he gets his stamina from but he’s just doing all the work for you— hands on your hips pushing and pulling you down to meet his thrusts, his own hips piston his cock into you with not one second to catch a breath, and his lips molding against yours as he swallows up every whine and whimper you let out.

Though, as surprising as his stamina and strength are, even he gets tired or frustrated at some point and just flips you both on your sides. Your leg is hoisted up on his hip and he’s just rutting into you like a damn madman, panting hard against your lips while spewing curse after curse about how good you feel around him.

When Choso fucks, he fucks like he’ll never get the chance to do so again, coaxing orgasm after orgasm after orgasm out of you to the point where you’re seeing stars and can barely get his name past your lips properly. Listening for that sexy little ah, ah, ah that leaves your throat with every thrust— Choso was tempted to break you in half.

Hell, maybe he already had because you’re choking on your moans, tears are welling up in your eyes, and one moment he’s fucking you while you’re on your sides and the next he’s on top of you again, blindly beating his cock deeper inside you. You swore he was in your lungs at that point because every little gasp you took was of his name.

Your nails were clawing at his back and you couldn’t fucking think. You lost track of how many times you came, all you could see was him and then white, blissful stary white as he hummed out quiet praises and pleadings of you to give him another one.

One more Choso promised, and then his thumb was at your clit again. One more he whispers, and then he’s marking up your neck and lower. Last one he swears, before you miraculously end up on your stomach, taking him ruthlessly from behind as he pushes your face down into the bed.

He was such a fucking liar. Whispering how sorry he was for not stopping yet, even as he kept going. Fuck, he might’ve been addicted. He doesn’t know how many times he came inside you, nor does he care too much because he swears it’s worth it when he pulls his hips back and sees the disgusting slick of pure white coating his cock.

He couldn’t even stop himself for a while, constantly fucking into you faster and then harder. His bed was no longer just creaking but now it was rocking with every thrust. He’s pretty sure he heard something snap but he was too lost in everything that was you to care.

The sight of your ass bouncing back against him made him grunt. He has a hand sneaking underneath you to toy with your clit once more just to watch the way you squirm before you’re coming undone all over again.

Choso groaned at the sight. He’ll never be able to forget how puffy your cunt was, how you twitched when he finally pulled out of you, and the way his cum looked dripping out of your hole.

“Shit,” He whispers, his breathing ragged while he just stared at how badly your legs were shaking, listening to you trying so hard to catch your breath, and gasping softly when your body goes all limp again.

You let out the softest little groan and Choso moved his sights onto the bit of your face he could see. As he did so, he couldn’t help but stare at the rest of you in awe, trying not to smile at the plethora of hickeys and bite marks he managed to leave all over you.

Damn. He really did ruin you.

Even as you lay there completely still, he catches your lashes fluttering before you try to look back at him. You were so beyond fucked out.

Choso swears he’s got little hearts in his eyes as he leans down to you, meeting your gaze up close before kissing you all too softly like he didn’t just fuck you stupid.

Yet, you kiss him back tenderly with what little energy you have left. When he pulls away, he takes in your expression and how tired you looked— appearing as though you were seconds from passing out.

“M’sorry pretty girl,” Choso whispers. The softness in his voice made your heart churn in more ways than one, “I didn’t mean to get carried away like that-“

The way you grin and murmur back to him makes his whole world pause, “S’okay, Cho,” You assure him. Your tone was so light, almost hardly even there. Then there was the way you were looking at him like you loved every second of what just happened and-

Oh god, he almost thinks he’s in l-

You cut whatever thought or feeling that was off with another kiss and that seems to bring him back to reality. Choso’s lashes bat in slight surprise before he settles his gaze on yours.

Followed by that is you letting out a huff and plopping your head back down against the bed. The two of you are still for a moment and Choso even ends up resting on top of you for a while. You both almost fall asleep like that until Choso gets up and stretches.

You had no idea what time it was or how long you and him had been at it but you were much too fucked out to care. Sleep was steady to overcome your senses and you faintly recall Choso talking to you about cleaning up but, you’re pretty sure you fell asleep at some point.

Which left Choso alone to care for you and the mess of his bedroom. Not that he minded.

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@pineapplepan7 @janrcrosssing @hauntedchoso @linksylove @lemonninq

@littlemug00 @namjoonie17717 @notjustagirlinthisworld @moonneversleeps @k4rma1sntd3ad

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moonstruckme · 4 months

Note

request: was thinking about that one video that’s like “my wife, she’ll get upset if she sees you touching me like that on my chest” “i am your wife” and then the heart monitor starts going crazy and that put a doctor remus idea in my head after r gets out of surgery/is on anesthesia for something or other

Thanks for requesting!

cw: hospital, mention of surgery

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 855 words

Lots of people would probably be happy to have their significant other visit them at work, but as it turns out, Remus really doesn’t like it. He’s used to seeing patients post-op, and yet somehow when it’s you it feels sad, all those tubes and wires connected to his girl. The fluorescent lighting turns your complexion wan and the wary frown on your lips as a nurse checks your vitals makes Remus’ heart feel like a bruise.

It helps some when you notice his entry and they stretch into a dopey smile instead.

“Hi, dove.” His voice is soft and smitten, an automatic reaction to seeing you that he’s already heard the new residents commenting on in the break room. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” You tug at the sheets on your bed. Ball them in your fists like you might be nervous. “My stomach hurts a little.”

“That’s normal,” Remus assures you, even as his stomach dips in sympathy. He sits on the edge of your bed, taking your hand and beginning to draw tight circles into the inside of your wrist. “If it starts to hurt worse, or badly at all, you should let me know, alright?”

“Okay.” Your voice has quieted slightly, your eyes following the motion of his thumb on your skin. You glance at the nurse as though checking if she sees. Remus feels his lips tip up bemusedly.

“Everything alright?” he asks the nurse.

She smiles at the both of you, passing him a clipboard. “She’s stable, ready to move when you’d like.”

“Thanks,” he says, reading over your vitals quickly after she leaves. He sets the clipboard down and gives your hand a squeeze. If your heart monitor gives a quick beep, he pretends not to notice. “You’re all set, lovely girl. We’ll get you to your own room in just a bit.”

You nod, not seeming to hear him. You look to be gnawing on the inside of your lip.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Remus says gently, thumbing it free. Your eyes widen, and he drops his thumb to your chin, looking you in the eyes. “Is something the matter?”

You rub your lips together hesitantly. It’s normal to have a small fever after surgery, but your face feels suspiciously warm. “I just, um, I have a boyfriend.”

Remus feels his face split into an irrepressible grin. He’d been wondering how the anesthesia would affect you. “Yeah, dove,” he agrees, delighted, “I know you do.”

“I don’t…” Your eyes dart to where his thumb still rests on your chin, your shoulders gravitating towards your ears. “I think it would upset him if he knew you were touching me like this.”

Truly, this could not be any better. Remus wishes he’d brought a video camera like James wanted him to. “I am your boyfriend, sweetheart.”

Your expression freezes in place, but your heart monitor starts beeping loudly. Your eyes dart to it, alarm and embarrassment worsening, and Remus laughs, dropping his hand from your chin in favor of rubbing your shoulder until both you and the machine calm down.

“You?” you ask. You appear nothing short of flabbergasted.

“Yes.” He brings your hand to his smiling lips, kissing your knuckles as if to prove it. “Why, are you surprised?”

“You’re serious,” you check. Remus has the opportunity to make a joke here, but he worries it’d only confuse you more.

“I am,” he says.

“But you’re so handsome.”

Another laugh startles out of him. “And what do you think you are? Of course,” he gives your knuckles another brief peck just to see your eyes flare again, “I would love you no matter how you looked, but you’re a far cry from hideous yourself.”

You look taken aback by this news as well. Remus is half tempted to find you a mirror.

Then you ask, voice soft as down feathers, “You love me?”

Something in Remus’ chest goes all warm and mushy. “I do,” he says sincerely. “I love you so much, sweetheart, sometimes I don’t know what to do with it all.”

You smile until your eyelashes kiss, and he can’t resist cupping your face again, smoothing his thumb along the skin of your cheek.

“So that’s why you’re here?” you ask.

“Well,” he hesitates, “yes, but I’m also here because I work here.”

Your eyebrows raise. Your gaze dips to his white coat as if remembering it for the first time in a while. “Oh. You’re a doctor and my boyfriend?”

“That’s right.” He squints at you amusedly. “Did you think I just snuck in here in a white coat so I could see you?”

“My boyfriend is a doctor.” You don’t seem to be talking to anyone in particular, perhaps just asking the universe for confirmation.

Remus decides to get back to business. “Right again, dove. I think it’s about time we get you to your room, yeah? Anything else I can do for you, anything you need?”

“Nope.” You lay your head back on the pillow, looking somehow more dazed than when he’d come in. “I think I’m set. Like, probably for life.”

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mariasont · 4 months

Text

Parent-Teacher Conference - A.H

a/n: inspired by the show the nanny! major lover of mr sheffield and fran fine

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

summary: you are not happy with jack's teacher flirting with your boss

warnings: hotch staring at your ass!, jealous reader, flirty reader, would prob def get a complaint against her in the real world, but alas!

wc: 0.8k

I'm terribly sorry, but my cat died before I got here.

I actually was in a car wreck on the way. I know I look fine, but it was super traumatic.

Mr. Hotchner you look so good today! Me? Late! Never.

These were the series of apologies and excuses that you were rehearsing in your mind as you navigated your way through the school hallway. In your defense, your tardiness to the parent-teacher conference wasn't without reason. Jack's newfound rebellious phase had him ruining your pantyhose with deliberate runs. He found it hilarious. You found it anything but.

You mentally prepared for that all-too-familiar, intimidating glare from Mr. Hotchner, the kind that could make you feel like you were plummeting from a cliff. Not only were you running late, but you also anticipated a less-than-glowing report from Ms. Thompson about Jack's recent antics. And in the back of your mind, a nagging voice whispered that Mr. Hotchner would somehow find a way to blame you.

"Oh, Aaron, you're something else!"

You stopped dead in your tracks, gaze locked on the scene unfolding before you. Ms. Thompson's voice took on a higher pitch, full of animation, her elbows subtly drawing her tits together, leaning into Mr. Hotchner's space with an ease that bordered on disrespectful. At least in your eyes.

Aaron? The casual use of Mr. Hotchner's first name sent your mood from sour to downright acrid. You strode into the classroom, inching your skirt higher and affixing a practiced, beaming smile to your face. It was all charm and no sincerity.

"So sorry I was late," you began, allowing a gentle sway in your step as you glided into the room, your heels clicking a measured tempo against the linoleum floor. You mustered all your willpower to not shoot daggers at the blonde headed teacher. "I didn't miss anything did I?"

As you stepped into view, both Ms. Thompson and Mr. Hotchner turned their eyes to you. Ms. Thompson's showed a flicker of surprise, while Mr. Hotchner's were like slits, scrutinizing. But even his discipline gaze dipped, albeit briefly, to the curve where your skirt ended.

"Oh, I... I didn't realize you were married, Mr. Hotchner," she mumbled, her hands fumbling gracelessly with the papers on the desk, her lips pinched in a straight line.

You could nearly hear the thoughts churning in Mr. Hotchner's head as his lips parted to correct her. Hastily, you cut in, "An innocent mistake, I'm sure."

He raised an eyebrow, a wordless question hanging in the air. Ignoring it, you flashed a saccharine smile and took the seat by his side, linking your arm with his. His muscles tensed, a reaction that almost coaxed a giggle from you.

It was all too easy to get a rise out of him.

"My wife, the epitome of timeliness,"Mr. Hotchner states dryly, his grip of your arm tightening just a tad more than called for.

To your astonishment, the remainder of the conference proceeded seamlessly from that point on. Ms. Thompson restrained herself, both in wardrobe and word, and unexpectedly showered Jack with praise.

Exiting the classroom alongside Mr. Hotchner, you noticed he paused just long enough to ensure Ms. Thompson was out of ear shot. That's when you felt the squeeze of his hand on your side, coming to rest on the curve of your lower back, the pressure didn't move even as you found yourselves alone in the hallway--and you were far from objecting.

"Really?"

Your shoulders rose and fell in a pretense of innocence, well aware that his perceptive eyes weren't fooled. You tilted into his shoulder, doing a mental victory dance when he made no move to distance himself.

"What?" you asked, clutching your purse tighter against your side as you paced forward. "I was just helping you out. She looked like she was about to jump your bones at any second."

Mr. Hotchner's face was unamused, per usual. "Your generosity knows no bounds."

"Right?" You were aware of his sarcasm, but that didn't deter you. Your shoulders bumped together as you made it to the exit. "Consider yourself lucky."

An eye roll was his immediate response, but you could almost sense the smile he was staunchly holding back. He would never admit it.

"Yes, how could I ever manage without you?"

He paused to open the door for you, following behind as you stepped outside. You squinted against the sun's harsh kiss before giving him a teasing wink over your shoulder. He looked really good in the sunlight. He could use more of it.

"You wouldn't."

You caught his eyes lingering not on your face, but lower--fixated on your skirt, more specifically your ass. You raised your brows in question.

"I think you sat in something."

You let out a startled gasp, hands flying to the material of your skirt. It was your favorite. "What? Where?"

His hands found their way to your waist, gently pivoting you for a better view, while your eyes settled on the stretch of road before you. "Oh, nope, my mistake. Looking good."

Your laughter spilled out uncontrollably, realizing just what he was doing. Cheeky man. And completely out of character, but you liked it. "Mr. Hotchner!"

"I take my role as husband very seriously."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x nanny!reader #criminals minds fic #criminal minds fluff #Spotify

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lxndonorris · 1 month

Text

tender waves - Lando Norris

Y/N x Lando Norris Theme: Smut sharing in intimate moment between the tender waves x word count: 7200+ taglist: @game-set-canet thank you @pitstopreality-f1 for the help :)

The summer sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the secluded beach. The soft, rhytmic lapping of waves against the shore provides a soothing soundtrack, punctuated by the occasional call of a seagull. The scent of saltwater fills the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the sand beneath you. The perfect day, one that feels stolen from the everyday hustle of life, like a secret only you know.

Lando insisted on driving you there—to this hidden gem of a beach, far away from the crowds. "Just us," he said, his voice full of excitement, the way it always was when he talked about his plans for the two of you. And true to his word, it is just you—no fans, no paparazzi—just the sun, the sand, and the vast expanse of the ocean stretching out before you.

You lie on your stomach, the towel beneath you soft and warm from the sun. Your bathing suit—a vibrant shade of turquoise that Lando complimented several times that morning—clings to your skin; the material cool against the heat of the day. Your body relaxes, sinking into the towel, as the sun's rays kiss your back, lulling you into blissful contentment.

Beside you, Lando lies on his side, propped up on one arm. His other hand traces lazy patterns along your arm; his fingers light as a feather as they dance over your skin. The sensation is soothing, almost hypnotic, and you find yourself focusing on it, enjoying the simple, affectionate gesture. You feel his warmth radiating next to you; his presence a comforting constant, grounding you in this moment.

You turn your head to look at him, the motion slow and deliberate, savoring the sight of him as your eyes take in every detail.

Lando looks effortlessly handsome, his tousled hair catching the light and the strands a mix of sun-kissed gold and chestnut brown. His skin, tanned from hours spent outdoors, is a beautiful contrast against the white sand, his muscles defined and relaxed. There is something that draws you in and holds you captive.

He is gazing at his fingers as they trail along your arm, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips. His eyes, a rich shade of hazel, follow the path of his touch, but as if sensing your gaze, they flick up to meet yours. For a moment, you just look at each other, the world around you fading into the background.

His smile widens, a hint of bashfulness creeping into it as he brings his hand to his chest, rubbing at the skin there almost absentmindedly. You notice the faint flush creeping up his neck, a soft pink that deepens as it spreads to his cheeks. It is endearing to see him like this—so confident on the track yet so adorably shy in moments like these.

"You look so good, you know," you say, your voice low and warm, the words slipping out almost on their own. You reach out, your fingers brushing against his as you speak. "But you're turning red, Lando. I think you need some sunscreen."

Lando chuckles softly; the sound a mix of amusement and embarrassment. "Yeah, maybe I do," he agrees, his tone light but with a telltale smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. There is a glint in his eyes now, playful and teasing, as if he is already imagining the next few moments.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, shifting so that you sit beside him. "Here," you offer, reaching for the bottle of sunscreen that lies discarded on the towel.

You squeeze a generous amount into your palm, the cool lotion contrasting with the warmth of the sun on your skin.

"Let me help."

Lando watches you with a mischievous smile, his eyes following your every movement as you rub the sunscreen between your hands, warming it up before you begin to apply it to his chest. His skin is hot under your touch, a reminder of how long you were out here in the sun.

You start at his shoulders, smoothing the lotion over the firm muscles there, your hands working in slow, deliberate strokes.

Lando closes his eyes, his breathing steady and relaxed, as if your touch is as soothing for him as his was for you. You feel the tension melting away from his body, the knots of stress from weeks of racing and traveling unraveling under your fingertips.

"You really needed this, didn't you?" You murmur, your hands moving down to his arms, covering every inch of his skin with the protective layer of sunscreen.

"Mmm, yeah," he admits, his voice soft and content. "This whole summer break... I've been looking forward to it. But more than that, I've been looking forward to this. Just...us."

His words send a warm, fluttering feeling through you, and you can't help but smile. Lando was always good at making you feel special, but it is moments like these—so simple yet so full of meaning—that truly make you realize how much you love him.

"Me too," you reply, your hands moving to his chest now, spreading the sunscreen across the smooth planes of muscle. You feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, a reminder of the life and energy that define him.

"It's been nice, hasn't it? Not having to worry about schedules of flights or races... just being together."

Lando nods, his eyes still closed, a peaceful expression on his face.

"Yeah, it's perfect."

You fall into a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the gentle rustle of the breeze and the occasional hiss of the waves. Your hands continue their work, moving across his chest, down his sides, over his stomach, until every inch of exposed skin is covered.

When you are done, you sit back on your heels, admiring your work. Lando's skin glistens in the sunlight, the sunscreen giving him a slightly glossy sheen. He looks even more breathtaking, if that is possible, the golden hue of his tan contrasting beautifully with the white sand and the deep blue of the ocean beyond.

Lando opens his eyes, blinking up at you with a lazy smile.

"Thanks," he says, his voice thick with relaxation. "You always know how to take care of me."

"Of course," you reply, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips—a brief, gentle kiss—but it is enough to make your heart skip a beat. "Now you can relax without worrying about getting sunburned."

He grins, pulling you down beside him. "You're the best," he murmurs, his arm wrapping around your waist as he draws you close. You settle back onto the towel, this time with you curled up against his side, your bodies pressed together in a comfortable tangle of limbs.

For a while, you just lie there, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the feel of each other's presence. It is one of those perfect moments where everything feels right and nothing else matters.

As the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the sand, Lando shifts beside you, propping himself up on one elbow. His eyes are bright, and his expression full of the familiar spark of mischief that you know so well.

"You know," he begins, his voice low and teasing. "I think it's your turn now."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "My turn for what?"

He reaches for the sunscreen, holding it up with a grin.

"Your turn for some sunscreen. Can't have you getting sunburned, can we?"

You laugh, shaking your head.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

He just smiles—that boyish, irresistible smile that always makes your heart melt.

"Yeah, but you love me anyway."

There is no arguing that.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you turn onto your stomach, resting your head on your folded arms as you stretch out on the towel. You feel Lando's eyes on you; the heat of his gaze almost as warm as the sun itself.

He is taking his time, you realize, and the thought makes your heart race with anticipation.

Finally, you feel the cool touch of the lotion on your back, followed by the gentle pressure of Lando's hands as he begins to rub it in.

His touch is slow and deliberate, his fingers tracing the contours of your shoulders and down the length of your spine. It is soothing, just like before, but there is something else in it too—something that makes your skin tingle and your breath catch in your throat.

Lando's hands move lower, massaging the sunscreen into your lower back, his fingers kneading the muscles there with just the right amount of pressure. You let out a soft sigh, your body relaxing completely under his touch. It feels so good, so intimate, that you can't help but close your eyes and savor the moment.

He works in silence, his hands moving with a rhythm that is both calming and sensual. You feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the steady rise and fall of his breath as he focuses on the task at hand—a simple act, really, but the way he does it—so careful, so attentive—makes it feel like so much more.

Then, Lando's hands linger on your lower back, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles on your skin as he continued applying sunscreen. Suddenly, as his hands move a little lower, just above the curve of your hips, you feel him lean down, his breath hot against the shell of your ear.

"You know," he whispers, his voice low and teasing, "this is really nice... but it's doing something to me."

There is a playful edge to his tone, but underneath it, you sense something else—something darker, more intense. You feel a shiver run through you as you turn your head slightly to catch his gaze.

His hazel eyes are filled with that familiar mischief, but there is a flicker of something deeper, more primal, that sends your heart racing.

"Lando," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, but before you can say anything else, he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

"I'm growing hard," he confesses, his voice a husky whisper that sends a surge of heat through your body. His words are bold, but there is a softness to them—a playful undertone that makes your pulse quicken.

You feel your breath hitch as the implications of his words sink in. His hands, still resting on your lower back, tighten their grip slightly, just enough to let you know he is serious about it all.

You feel the heat radiating from his body even more now, his arousal unmistakable, even before he gently presses his hips against yours.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel the unmistakable hardness of him pressing against you, even through the thin fabric of your swimwear.

Lando moves slowly, carefully, making sure not to put too much weight on you as he positions himself on top of you. His body is warm, his skin hot from the sun, and the feel of him against you is enough to send a shiver of anticipation coursing through your veins.

"Lando," you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper, as you feel him shift slightly, his hips pressing a little more firmly against you. There is no denying the effect this is having on both of you, and you feel your own arousal growing in response to his.

He lets out a soft, almost inaudible groan, his breath warm against the nape of your neck.

"You have no idea how much I want you right now," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with desire. "But we're out here in the open..."

There is a teasing lilt to his words, as if he is enjoying the fact that you are in such a public place yet completely hidden from the world. It is thrilling and slightly forbidden knowing that you are alone on this secluded beach, the vastness of the ocean stretching out before you, but the possibility of being seen is still there. It adds an extra layer of excitement, making everything feel that much more intense.

Lando shifts again, his hips pressing even more firmly against you, and you feel the full length of his arousal now, hard and insistent against your lower back. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and you can't help but arch your back slightly, pressing up against him in response.

His breath hitches, and you feel him tense slightly, as if he is holding himself back. His hands move from your back to your sides, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter.

He is so close, his body warm and solid against you, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to turn over and pull him down on top of you completely.

"Lando," you whisper again, your voice trembling with desire, "what are you doing?"

He chuckles softly, the sound low and rich, as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder.

"Just making sure you're well protected from the sun," he teases, his lips brushing against your skin with every word. "Can't have you getting burned, can we?"

His words are light, but the way he is pressing against you, the way his breath is coming in short, heated bursts, tells a different story. You feel the tension in his body—the barely restrained desire that is simmering just below the surface.

Lando shifts slightly, his hands moving up to rest on your shoulders, and for a moment, he just stays there, his chest pressed against your back, his breath warm against your neck. It is an intimate, almost possessive gesture, and you find yourself biting your lip to keep you from making a sound as his hips press even more firmly against you.

"Babè," you murmur, your voice trembling with need, "this is..."

"Yeah," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "I know."

For a moment, you just stay like that, your bodies pressed together, the tension between you thick and electric. The feel of his arousal against you is almost too much to bear, and you feel your own desire growing with every passing second.

But then, just as quickly as he initiated the contact, Lando pulls back slightly, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

"We shouldn't," he says, his voice low and filled with regret, even as his hands linger on your skin, as if he can't quite bring himself to pull away completely. "Not here."

You nod, even though he can't see you, understanding what he means even as your body screams for more. The thrill of being so close, of feeling his desire so plainly is intoxicating, but there is a part of you that knows he is right.

You turn your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his. There is a fire in his gaze, a hunger that mirrors your own, and it is enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

"Lando," you whisper, reaching up to run your fingers through his tousled hair. "Later?"

He nods, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips. "Definetly later."

With that, he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, his touch gentle yet full of promise. It is enough to make you ache with longing.

Lando carefully climbs off you, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. The absence of his warmth leaves your skin tingling, the memory of his weight pressing against you still fresh in your mind.

You feel the tension between you, thick and undeniable, as you roll onto your back to face him.

His eyes meet yours, a mixture of desire and restraint flickering in those hazel depths. He is so close, his body still hovering over you, and you reach up without thinking, your fingers finding the warm, smooth skin of his chest.

You trace the lines of his muscles, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your fingertips. The heat of his skin radiating through your hand, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

"I don't know if I can wait.." you admit, your eyes leaving his burning gaze to follow as your fingers dance over his skin.

Lando's eyes darken as you continue to explore his chest, your touch slow and firm. He sucks in a breath, his muscles tensing under your caress. The low, rumbling growl that escapes his throat sends a wave of heat rushing through you; the sound so primal, so raw that it makes your pulse quicken.

Encouraged by his reaction, you let your hand drift lower, your fingers tracing the defined ridges of his abs. You feel the tautness of his body; every muscle firm and responsive under your touch.

Lando's breath hitches as your hand slides even lower, brushing against the waistband of his swim shorts, where the evidence of his desire is unmistakable.

"Y/N..."

His reaction is immediate; a deep, guttural moan rumbles from his chest, his hips instinctively shifting closer to your hand as if he can't help himself.

You feel the hard length of him through the thin fabric, hot, and insistent, and the sensation sends a rush of excitement through you.

Lando's eyes flutter closed for a brief moment, his head tilting back slightly as if savoring the pleasure. His hand finds yours, guiding you as you stroke him gently through his shorts.

The contact is almost too much and not nearly enough at the same time—a teasing caress that leaves you both wanting more.

"God, you're driving me crazy," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

You look up at him, and he holds your gaze as you continue your slow, deliberate movements, each touch sending a jolt of pleasure through both of you.

The intensity of his reaction, the way his body responds to every little thing you do only fuel your own desire.

But just when you thought you might lose yourself in the heat of the moment, Lando suddenly pulls away.

He gets to his feet with a quick, fluid motion, leaving you breathless and a little dazed as you watch him rise.

His eyes are dark with a mix of restraint and longing, but there is something else there too—something playful, almost wicked.

Standing above you, Lando stretches his arms high above his head, his muscles rippling beneath his tanned skin. The movement is slow, deliberate, as if he is putting on a show just for you.

And he is.

Every inch of his well-formed body is on display—the tautness of his chest, the cut of his abs, the broadness of his shoulders—all of it a testament to the hours of training and dedication he put into his sport.

You can't tear your eyes away from him, completely captivated by the sight of him stretching and flexing above you.

The sun catches the sheen of sunscreen on his skin, making him glow with a healthy, golden hue that only adds to his allure.

His swim shorts hang low on his hips, the fabric doing little to hide the evidence of his desire, now even more obvious as he stretches.

Lando grins as he catches you staring, his expression both smug and full of that boyish charm that you adore.

He holds his pose for a moment longer, letting you take in every detail, before he slowly relaxes his arms and shifts his stance.

"Enjoying the view?" he teases, his voice light but with that underlying tone of challenge, as if daring you to admit just how much you are.

You don't bother to hide the way your eyes roam over his body, taking in every flex and ripple of muscle as he adjusts his position.

He bends down slightly, the movement causing his abs to tighten, the muscles in his arms and chest bulge as he puts his weight on one leg—a casual action, but the effect is anything but.

Your breath catches in your throat as he shifts again, his body moving with the easy grace of someone completely in tune with himself. There is confidence to his movements, a quiet, self-assured strength that is incredibly sexy.

But what really holds your attention is the way his arousal is now undeniable, straining against the fabric of his shorts with no attempt to hide it.

There is no denying the effect his little display, and all the teasing before, is having on both of you. The tension crackles between you with electricity, and the air is thick with anticipation.

You feel the heat pooling low in your belly, the desire building with every second you watch him.

Lando's smirk softens into something warmer for a second as he takes a step closer to you, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. His touch is gentle, but there is an intensity in his eyes that makes your heart race.

"Maybe we should take a dip in the ocean," he suggests, his voice low and full of promise, "to cool off a bit."

There is no mistaking the double meaning behind his words, and the playful glint in his eyes only confirms it. You feel the excitement bubbling up inside you—the thrill of what is to come—making your skin tingle.

"Maybe we should," you reply, matching his tone, your voice laced with desire.

Lando grins—that same mischievous grin like before. He holds out his hand, and without hesitation, you take it, letting him pull you up to your feet.

The contact sends a spark of electricity through you, and as you stand there face-to-face, the desire between you is palpable.

As Lando stands before you, his gaze grows more intense, the playful light in his eyes darkening once again with something deeper, something more primal.

You see the shift in him—the way his muscles tense as he struggles to maintain control. The tension is thick with anticipation, simmering just below the surface, ready to boil over.

He looks at you with such desire that it sends shivery waves down your back. His eyes are filled with a need that matches your own, and there is no mistaking what he wants.

Lando's hand moves almost absently, his fingers brushing over the hard outline of his member through his shorts. The action is unintentional, but it speaks volumes, his body responding instinctively to the closeness between you.

Your gaze follows the movement of his hand, your pulse quickening as you take in the sight of him. There is something erotic about the way he touches himself so casually, as if he can't help it, as if his body is reacting to yours without conscious thought.

Lando's eyes flick back up to yours, and without a word, he offers you his hand, his expression daring you to take it.

A soft giggle escapes your lips at the playful intensity in his gaze, the way he seems so sure of himself, so confident in what is to come.

You place your hand in his, feeling the heat of his palm against you, and you can't help but tease him as you ask, "What are you planning?"

He doesn't answer right away; he just smiles that roguish, boyish grin of his that makes your heart flutter. But there is something different in his eyes now—a determination that sends a thrill of excitement racing through you.

Lando tightens his grip on your hand, his fingers wrapping around you with a firmness that is both reassuring and possessive.

With a quiet resolve, Lando leads you toward the ocean, your steps synchronized as if you were moving to the rhythm of the waves. The sand is warm beneath your feet, but you can feel the coolness of the water lapping at your ankles as you walk in.

The sun hangs low in the sky, the water shimmers with the last light of the day.

You walk deeper into the sea, the water rising up to your knees, then your thighs, until it reaches your navels. The coolness of the water is a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your bodies, the sensation sending a shiver through you as you move closer to Lando.

He turns to face you, pulling you into his arms with a gentle yet firm hug. The motion is so effortless, so natural, that you find yourself pressed against him in an instant, your body molding to his.

The water buoyed you slightly, making every touch feel lighter, more ethereal, as if you were floating together in a world of your own.

His hands settle on your hips, holding you steady against the gentle sway of the ocean. You reach up, placing both of your hands on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms.

The contrast between his heated body and the cool water is intoxicating; the sensation heightens your awareness of every point of contact between you.

Lando's breath hitches slightly as your hands roam over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles, the rise and fall of his breath. You look up at him, your eyes searching for his confirmation, for some indication that you are both on the same page.

There is no hesitation in his gaze, only a teasing, playful glint that makes your heart skip another beat.

"Do you want to do it?" You ask, your voice barely more than a whisper, the words hanging between you like a challenge.

Lando's response is immediate, his lips curving into a sly, knowing smile as he nods. There is a teasing quality to his nod, as if he is saying, Of course I do, but also, You have to ask?

His hands slide up from your hips to your waist, pulling you even closer until there is no space between you. The feel of his body pressed against you, his skin hot against the coolness of the water, sends a wave of desire crashing over you.

You feel his arousal, hard and insistent yet again, against your lower belly, and the knowledge that he wants you just as much as you want him is enough to make your knees weak.

"Then what are you waiting for?" You whisper, your voice trembling.

Lando's eyes flash with something wild as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, "I've been waiting all day."

The words send a thrill through you; the low, husky timbre of his voice makes your pulse quicken. He isn't teasing anymore; this is real, raw desire, and it is driving you both to the edge.

Without another word, Lando's hands move lower, cupping your backside and lifting you slightly in the water. The movement is smooth, so natural, that it takes you a moment to realize what is happening.

Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, holding on as he shifts his stance, his body aligning perfectly with yours.

The ocean laps gently around you, the refreshing water contrasting sharply with the heat of your bodies as you move together. The water makes everything feel lighter, more fluid, combined with the solid heat of Lando's body against you.

You feel his arousal pressing against you, hard and demanding, and the sensation sends a wave of longing through you. Every nerve in your body is on fire, the anticipation builds with every passing second. You feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment.

Lando's breath is hot against your neck as he holds you close, his hands steadying you as you move together in the water. There is an urgency to his touch now, a need that matches your own, and you know that neither of you can wait much longer.

His hands roam over your body, his touch exploring every curve and dip of your skin as if he is memorizing you all over again. His fingers trace the lines of your back, the curve of your waist before dipping lower still, skimming over the wet fabric of your swimsuit. The sensation is exhilarating, each touch sending a jolt of pleasure through you as you lean into him, trusting him completely.

As Lando's hands become more intimate, you tilt your head back, your eyes closing as you surrender to the sensations coursing through you.

He is taking his time; his touch both tender and teasing, and it drives you wild.

Your breath hitches as his fingers find more sensitive areas; the pressure firm but gentle, exactly what you need. But you are not content to simply let him take the lead.

Your hands move over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. His skin is slick with seawater, and as you trace the hard lines of his muscles, you feel the tension in his body—the way his desire matches your own.

Your hand trails lower, down the planes of his stomach, until you reach the waistband of his swim shorts. You feel his arousal against your palm, and the sound that escapes his lips—a soft whimper—sends a thrill through you.

It is a sound you know well, one that he makes only in moments like this, when the pleasure is almost too much to bear.

Hearing Lando, usually so composed and confident, make such a vulnerable sound, sends a rush of heat through you. You smile, a surge of satisfaction coursing through you as you realize how much you are affecting him. You squeeze gently, eliciting another quiet whimper from him, and the sound makes your heart race even faster.

Lando's head dips forward, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck as he lets out a shaky breath. You feel his need in the way he touches you, the way his hands tighten on your hips as if he is trying to steady himself—a heady feeling, knowing that you have this power over him, that you can make him unravel with just a touch.

Together, you move in perfect sync, your hands exploring, teasing, giving as much as you receive.

The waves roll around you, gentle and warm, adding to the rhythm you found together. It is a slow, sensual dance, the water buoying you, making every moment feel effortless, almost dreamlike.

Lando's touch grows more confident, his fingers finding the places that make you gasp, your body responding to him with an intensity that leaves you breathless. Every caress, every brush of his skin against you, only heighten the pleasure.

His mouth finds yours again; your kiss deep and urgent, and you can taste the salt of the sea on his lips.

Together, you pull his swim shorts down a few inches, and he removes your panties just as much as he needs.

When he moves inside you, it is as though the entire world stops, and all that exists is the connection between you.

You move together as one, smooth and deliberate movements, the rhythm of the waves guiding you. There is a natural ease to it, as if you are meant to be this way, entwined and inseparable.

Lando's hands grip your hips firmly, holding you steady against him as you hold on to him. His breath is hot against your neck, and every time he thrusts, it sends jolts of pure pleasure through you that weaken your knees. The sensation is overwhelming—a perfect blend of desire and connection that leaves you trembling in his arms.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your bodies pressed so tightly together that it feels as if you are one.

The feel of his muscles beneath your fingers, the way they tense and relax with every movement, only heightens the pleasure coursing through you.

Lando is focused, his gaze intense, his determination palpable as he maintains your rhythm, driving you both closer to the edge.

But then, a heavier wave surges toward you, crashing against your bodies with a force that momentarily throws you off balance. You flinch at the unexpected impact, your body instinctively reacting as your nails dig into Lando's back, leaving faint, red lines in their wake.

Lando grunts at the sharpness of your touch, a sound that is both primal and restrained, his breath hitching slightly as the pain mingles with the pleasure.

But he doesn't lose his composure—not for a single second. Instead, he tightens his grip on you, steadying you both as the wave subsides.

There is a fierce determination in the way he holds you, an unspoken promise that he isn't going to let anything—especially not a mere wave—disrupt the connection you have.

His resolve only makes the moment more intense. Even as you cling to him, feeling the strength and steadiness of his body beneath your hands, you sense the depth of his focus.

Lando isn't just in control of himself; he is in control of everything—the waves, the moment, the desire that burns between you.

And it is intoxicating.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered your name, the sound a low, breathy moan.

You feel the effort in every thrust, the way he drives you forward with a singular purpose, determined to reach the peak together.

You reach out, your hand intsinctively drawn to Lando's chest. Your fingers meet the warmth of his skin, slick with seawater, and you feel his heart pounding beneath your palm. Each rapid breath he takes makes his chest rise and fall quickly, a clear sign of the intensity of the moment.

As your hand traces the contours of his chest, you feel the way his muscles tense and tremble under your touch. The usualy steady, confident Lando is now showing a side of himself that is raw and vulnerable.

There is something incredibly intimate about the way he responds to you, how his body betrays just how much this moment affects him.

His breathing quickens as your fingers continue to explore, moving across the hard planes of his chest. The subtle tremors in his muscles tell you that he is holding back, trying to maintain control even as the intensity of all of what is happening is threatening to overwhelm him.

You look up at him, your eyes meeting his, and see the conflict of emotions there; the desire, the need, and the effort to stay composed. It's a side of Lando you rarely see and it makes you want to be closer to him, to hold him, to let him know that he doesn't need to hide anything from you.

His body leans into yours, as if seeking the reassurance of your touch.

Then, almost imperceptibly at first, a low, breathy sound escapes his lips; a soft moan that sends shivers down your spine. A sound of pure, unfiltered desire, a reaction he can't suppress despite his usual control.

The waves continue to roll around you, but they are nothing compared to the sensations building within you. Every movement, every touch, every breath brings you closer, the pleasure intensifying with each passing second.

Your body moves in perfect harmony with his, responding to every subtle shift, every whispered encouragement until there is nothing left but the sheer intensity of the moment.

And when the final wave of pleasure crashes over you, it is overwhelming—the perfect culmination of all the tension, desire, and connection that was built between you throughout the day.

Lando holds you close, his arms wrapping around you as you both tremble in the aftermath, your breaths mingling as you cling to each other in the gentle sway of the ocean.

As the waves lap gently around you, you stay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world slowly coming back into focus.

The sun dips lower in the sky, the water shimmering gold, but all you can see is Lando, his eyes soft and filled with the kind of warmth that makes your heart swell.

He brushes a strand of wet hair away from your face, his touch tender and loving, a contrast to the intensity of what you just shared.

And as he looks at you with that boyish smile, you know that this moment is something you will carry with you forever.

The sun dips even lower on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold, pink, and deepening purple. Lando and you make your way back to the beach, hand in hand. The waves, now calmer and gentler, whispering against the shore, and the warmth of the day lingering in the air, wrapping around you like a soft blanket.

With every step, you feel the connection between you—the shared intimacy.

You are silent, but it is a comfortable silence, filled with the weight of everything you don't need to say.

Lando's hand is warm in yours, his grip gentle but firm, as if he never wants to let go, and you feel the same.

As you reach your spot on the beach, the towels still laid out where you left them, you can't help but notice the faint, red scratches on Lando's back—the marks you made in the heat of the moment. Your heart gives a little pang of guilt, knowing that you hurt him, even if it was unintentional.

"I'm sorry about those," you say softly, your voice tinged with concern as you gesture to the scratches. The last thing you want is to have caused him any pain.

Lando just turns to you, his eyes sparkling with amusement, and lets out a light, carefree giggle that makes your worry evaporate in an instant.

"Are you kidding?" he teases, flashing that boyish grin again. "It was worth it."

His words, spoken with such ease and sincerity, make you smile in return. There is no regret in his eyes, only a mischievous glint that tells you he wouldn't change a thing. It is just like him to find humor in something so small, to brush it off with a laugh and a cheeky comment.

You settle back onto your towels, the sun now a mere sliver on the horizon, casting long shadows across the sand.

Lando lies down on his stomach; his body relaxes, the tension from earlier completely melted away. You take place beside him, sitting down with one leg folded under you, the other stretched out along the soft sand.

You reach out, your fingers tracing the lines of his back, following the path of the scratches with a gentle, soothing touch. The scratches aren't deep, just light marks that will fade soon enough, but you want to show him how much you care, how sorry you are for causing him even a moment's discomfort.

Lando hums in contentment, a deep, rumbling sound that reverberates in his chest. His body shifts slightly under your touch, the muscles in his back rippling with each pass of your hand—a simple, quiet moment, but it feels profound.

As you continue to stroke his back, you feel the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the steady rise and fall of his breath. It is a comforting rhythm, one that lulls you into a sense of calm and peace.

Lando's contentment is infectious, and you find yourself relaxing even more, your worries slipping away with each gentle caress.

After a while, Lando shifts onto his side, turning to face you with a soft smile. His eyes are filled with affection, and he reaches out, inviting you to come closer with a gentle tug on your arm.

You don't hesitate, moving into his embrace, your body fitting perfectly against his as you settle beside him.

You cuddle together on the towel, the warmth of his body enveloping you as you rest your head against his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat is like a soothing lullaby, and you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the comfort of his presence.

Lando's arm drapes around you, holding you close, while his other hand continues to stroke your arm and back in a slow, rhytmic motion. The sensation is blissful; the soft touch of his fingers against your skin sends little shivers down your spine.

As you nestle closer into Lando's embrace, the first thing that strikes you is his scent—a warm, intoxicating mix of the ocean, sun, and something unquiely him. A perfect blend of freshness from the sea breeze mingled with the faint, lingering notes of his cologne.

There is something comforting about it—a scent that speaks of warmth, safety, and home. You breathe him in deeply, feeling a sense of peace wash over you as you lie against his chest.

His skin, still slightly salty from the ocean, carries the faintest hint of sunscreen, adding to the mix. But beneath all that is the unmistakable scent that is just Lando—a subtle, masculine fragrance that is warm and inviting, grounding you again in the moment.

Every time you take a breath, you feel closer to him, as if his scent is weaving itself into your very being. It is a scent that you know you would recognize anywhere, one that you would miss deeply whenever you were apart.

You sigh contentedly, snuggling deeper into his warmth, letting his scent and gentle touches envelop you fully.

Lando's fingers never stop moving, tracing patterns on your skin; his touch light and tender. Every so often, he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair.

Then, in the quiet of the moment, Lando's voice breaks through the stillness, soft and filled with emotion.

"I love you," he whispers.

You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes meeting his. His gaze is intense, so raw and deep that it takes your breath away. There is no teasing smirk, no hint of the playful boyishness he often wears. This is Lando, stripped bare of any pretense, speaking from the very depths of his heart.

"And thank you..." he continues, "for taking care of me." His voice barely above a whisper, but the words resonate with a gravity that makes them feel like a vow. "More than anything. I need you."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you take in the weight of his words. It isn't just about the passion or the connection you share; it is about something more profound, something that goes beyond just love.

You reach up to gently cup his face, your thumb brushing along his cheek as you try to convey everything you feel in that moment without words.

"I love you too, Lando," you whisper back, your voice thick with emotion. "And I will always care for you and need you just as much."

A soft, almost relieved smile spreads across his lips, and he leans down to press a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as if he wants to hold on to this moment forever.

When he pulls back, his eyes are shining with the same emotion you feel—love, need, and an unbreakable bond that ties you together.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 smut #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 smut

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eratosmusings · 6 months

Text

Loyalty (I)

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!reader

summary: the king decides it's time for his brother to produce more targaryen heirs. who better than another hightower daughter to carry them?

warnings: adults only, all characters over 18, dubcon smut in later chapters, arranged marriage, abortion allusion (moon tea), coercion, terrible parenting

word count: 2.3k

dividers

“I won’t allow it.”

“You won’t allow it?” Viserys asks with an air of frigid humor. “Who are you to deny your king what he has commanded?”

Otto seethes, decades of practiced court manners faltering under the demand. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but she is my daughter. I will not have her married off to a man whose love of violence and debauchery trails him like a shadow. She is a pious child. To marry her to Daemon is—“

“A blessing. She will marry a prince and a valiant knight.”

The other men at the table are silent. They'd expected talks of reinforcing the kingdom's claim on the Stepstones or of quelling rumors that had cropped up of Daemon corrupting his young niece in a brothel a year prior. The king commanding a marriage between Otto Hightower's youngest daughter—his only child from a tragically short second marriage—is an unpleasant surprise.

"He is already married."

Viserys gives a taut smile. "Daemon's marriage to Lady Royce has been annulled. By royal decree and with the blessing of the High Septon. It is in the best interest of Westeros that the Targaryen line remains vast and strong and it has been decided your daughter will do what Lady Royce did not."

Otto's face falls in disbelief. He's heard nothing of it. This had been set up to corner him. "She is a child."

"She is nearly four years older than Alicent was when we wed. The queen has proven your daughters are strong vessels for Targaryen children."

"It is different. She is different. She is not as strong as Alicent."

The king shakes his head. "I will hear no more discussion of this. She will wed Daemon and this feud between the two of you shall end once and for all.”

Alicent’s touch is feather-light as she takes hold of your hands. Her eyes wander across your form, taking in the exquisite ivory gown. Its crimson embroidered dragon along the skirt a special request from your soon-to-be husband. “You look beautiful, sister.”

You can say nothing to your half-sister, barely able to retain the tears brimming in silence. A fortnight was all you’d been given to prepare to wed the vilest creature in Westeros. Daemon Targaryen was all you could have ever hoped against in a husband.

Your father stands tall behind Alicent, head held high. "The image of the Maiden herself."

A choked sob escapes you at his words. This marriage was punishment by the Seven for every sin you'd ever committed. For the impure thoughts you'd had of knights. The white lies you'd spoken to save yourself the wrath of Septa Agerrea. The gambling you'd participated in when you’d bet your favorite embroidery needle in a game of cards with Lysa Tyrell. Had you only followed the Faith more faithfully, this torture would not be yours to endure.

“I believe it is time to take your place with the king, Your Grace,” your father says.

Alicent hesitates with glossy eyes. She draws you into a tight hug and whispers an apology and how much she loves you. You have the faintest memory of her wedding to the king a few years before. The happy sister who’d spent hours braiding your hair when the handmaidens failed to do it properly disappeared into a hardened queen round with child seemingly overnight. The smiles and giggles you’d shared daily turned to fond, distant memories. She withdraws a moment later, wiping at her face.

When the door shuts your father moves behind you. You watch in the ornate mirror as he drapes the green maidencloak of House Hightower across your shoulders. The new burden's weight feels uncomfortable.

He returns to stand before you, his expression sorrowful. "I am sorry, my sweet child, for this atrocity. You deserve far better.”

“I could have saved myself this fate had I been less worldly and become a Septa.” Your palm wipes at the tear that had fallen.

He cups your cheek. “Perhaps. But we cannot lament on what we could have done. Indeed we must focus instead on your duty to the realm.”

“To be a good wife,” you state. It was what he had raised you to be.

“No, sweet child,” he says softly, “I fear that I must ask something far more difficult of you. For your duty to the realm must supplant your duty in marriage.”

The wedding takes place in a haze. You tremble, stumble over words, and can not meet the eyes of your now husband nor the Septon. Soon you would betray them both.

For the good of the realm.

You do not eat or drink through the feast. You barely speak. You think you might have danced, though all you remember of it is a blurring background and an embroidered dragon that matches your own. It had stared at you accusingly.

“Shall I call for the bedding ceremony to begin, brother?” the king slurs loudly. If there had been anything in your stomach, it surely would have come out now. It was one vile thought to have him touch you. But to have other men undress you as well?

Your hand is pulled from your lap, enclosed in another twice its size, callous and rough against your skin. For the first time that day you look at your husband. You’d never seen him this close. The lavender gaze cannot have been of this world. It’s too vibrant, too knowing. “Too many of the men here have wandering hands. I’d hate to spill blood on such a blessed day.” His lips brush against your hand. “My sweet wife should not have to endure such tragedy.”

The king responds dismissively. Something of disappointing guests, but to do as he pleases. Daemon takes it as a dismissal and pulls you from your seat. The last thing you hear is the call from many about bloody sheets.

Perhaps the Mother has decided to take mercy on you. For you cannot breathe as the doors to the prince’s chambers close behind you. Death can take you before he can.

He stands in front of the fire, pouring some drink into a goblet. The flickering orange light suits him. Like he was born for flames. “You must relax. There is nothing for you to fear from me.” A lie. There was much to fear from him.

A booming knock echoes through the room.

“Enter.”

Two servants carrying trays of bread and fruit enter. Then they are gone just as swiftly. The door closes once more.

“You must eat,” he says, taking your hand once more and leading you to a small table. You sit and a piece of bread is offered. You take it and, after an expectant nod, take a bite. It’s still warm and soft. You take another bite. And another.

It’s gone quickly. Too quickly for a lady. A bowl of berries clatters softly in front of you. You pick at it slower, though not as slowly as you’d like. They are sweet. Perfectly ripe.

“Would you like some wine?”

Despite the juice of berries coating your tongue, your mouth is dry as you speak for the first time since you’d said your vows. “Yes, please.”

“So well mannered.” A smug smile spreads across his face as he raises his goblet and sips. He reaches over and sets it down beside the half-empty bowl. “I forgot to have them retrieve another cup.”

The crimson red liquid ripples. A challenge.

“You are very gracious, my Prince. Thank you.” You lift it by the stem and drink. It was stronger than you’ve ever had before. The taste takes you aback, coughing as it soaks your tongue. Hastily you set the cup back down.

"I take it you don't often indulge in Dornish Reds."

"No, never."

His head cocks to the side appraisingly. "I suppose such a thing has never been offered to you before. Not within the confines of your father's authority. He has given you a rather sheltered life."

A prickly heat seeps up your neck. "My father did not confine or shelter me. He has only ever guided me to live as virtuously as the Seven wished for all their children to live.”

“How very kind of him to not let you endure the same vices as himself.”

You blink, his words sinking in. The implication that your father is a drunkard stings. He isn't, but you don’t fight his accusation. Selfishly, you do not wish to defend your father. Instead, you pluck a berry from the bowl, hoping to end the conversation entirely.

"Are the berries quite good?"

You nod, not wanting to speak again.

"Might I have one?" When you go to pick up the bowl, he stops you. "Pick me out the best one."

The best one? The bowl is still half full. Which berry was the best? Would he be disappointed if you picked one he did not like? Or one that was not ripe enough? Not sweet enough? What would he do to you if he disliked the one you chose?

It was the largest blackberry that you finally settle on, prepared to hear how terrible the choice had been as you hold it out to him. He doesn't simply take it. He leans over the table, taking the berry and your fingers into his mouth.

The act is heinously intimate. It leaves you frozen and breathless as he pulls away, his eyes alight in devious amusement. "I'm not sure which taste I prefer. The berry's or your's."

Fire spreads across your cheeks. You flinch away, embarrassed. In the escape effort your arm knocks against the goblet. To your horror, it clatters against the table. The liquid sloshes across your front, staining the white gown.

The crimson seems to seep from your womb, condemning you for something you had yet to do. You paw at the stain as the chair clatters on the ground from the force with which you'd stood.

Tears brim in your eyes as it continues to spread.

“There's no need to fret. It is only wine.”

“I have desecrated it.” The tears have not stopped falling and your hands have not stopped scrubbing at it with your fingers. “The stain will never come out.”

“It is only a dress.” He cups your face, encouraging you to meet his gaze. It searches for some understanding.

He would never understand.

“I am so sorry, my Prince.”

He shushes you softly and places a kiss against your forehead. This was the monster? The vile, unholy beast whose every action was an affront to the Seven? This man who had shown you nothing but kindness?

You cry harder.

He is not the monster.

You are.

You aren’t sure how long you cry. But he holds you through it all. He speaks little more than a few consoling phrases, but it is more than you deserve. His presence, arms around you, kisses on your hair. All of it more than you deserve.

You’re finally calm, only left with sniffles, when he says, “We should get the dress to the washwomen before the stain sets.” What good would it do? The stain can never be removed from your soul. Still you agree and turn for him.

His fingers are swift as they loosen the strings of your bodice. Practiced. He is practiced. Behind closed doors you assume, but there were numerous tales of his public debauchery. It has been gossiped that he prefers the thrill of open affairs and touches of multiple women.

“Why did you refuse the bedding ceremony?”

He pauses. “Did you wish to have one?”

“No,” you say quickly. “But given your…tendencies I…I thought…” A quiet hum has your words trailing off.

His work continues, though slower. “You are not a whore in a brothel.”

“Neither is your niece and yet...”

Air blows across your neck as he chuckles. “Has my pious little wife been gossiping about the chastity of the Crowned Princess?”

Your lungs seize at the realization of what you’d just said. It’s treason. Questioning her virtue is treason.

“Relax, jaesa.” His hands slip between the shoulders of your shift and the loose gown, pushing the sleeves down your arms. “I took you under my protection today. You may speak freely to me.”

“I,” you hesitate, freeing your hands of the garment, “I had heard that a year ago you snuck the princess from the castle and—“

He bunches the fabric at your waist and tugs. “Had my way with her in some brothel?”

“Yes.”

The gown struggles for a moment, snagging on the curve of your behind. Another tug and it is a pile around your feet. “My niece wished to see King’s Landing. I showed her and returned her to the castle, still a fair maiden like yourself.”

“Of course.”

“You doubt me?”

“No, my Prince.”

"It would do a great disservice to our union to begin it with lies." He prompts you to turn and hesitantly you do. He is shorter than your father, yet his presence is as commanding. More so. It makes you aware of how thin the fabrics of your shifts were when his gaze drifts down. "My niece's heart belongs elsewhere. As do my desires."

His touch is gentle as he cups your cheek, but the feeling's it stirred are rough and uncertain. Bordering on traitorous.

“Shall I call a servant to fetch the dress?” The words waver. You wonder if they’re comprehensible at all.

They are, it seems as he rejects the offer and slips out the door himself with the dress. The reprieve from his watchful, astute eye is welcome. You fall to your knees at the edge of the bed and recite the prayer your father had taught you minutes before you’d been led down the aisle.

Warrior, give me strength for what I must do. It is for the good of the realm.

Mother, forgive me for what I must do. It is for the good of your faithful servants.

Stranger, lead my children to peace. It is for the good of their innocent souls.

a/n: all your thoughts and reblogs are appreciated 🌺

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a-hazbin-reader · 7 months

Note

A Alastor x wife!reader where reader has been wanting a family and finally by some miracle she discovers she's pregnant

Just a thought ��

You are not even the third person to ask for this and we're all already delusional here soooooo-

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Sadness, Reader has baby fever and spreads it to her husband unintentionally, A little angst, Implied baby making 😉

Description: 👆⬆️

Alastor would do anything for his wife, spare no expense for her happiness and it shows

You two have talked previously about your obvious desire for a family with him

He would be willing to give that to you even though he's admittedly not the biggest fan of the idea

Part of him is scared of being a father but he won't ever admit that

You two both knew that sinners couldn't reproduce, and it crushed you that the opportunity was taken from you

You were still happy to have your husband and your found family at the hotel

You just still had that desire to have a baby, your husband's baby to be exact

Alastor hates seeing you so hurt over this, he wants to fix things for you, but this is out of his control

He couldn't give you a baby no matter how hard he tried, and that makes him feel helpless, which makes him angry

Sometimes the longing for a baby and the despair of knowing you can't have one gets to be too much for you and you unintentionally draw into yourself

Not amount of hugging or soothing words from your husband can console you, no matter how hard you cling to him and seek his comfort

You're just so sad sometimes

Which leads to Alastor being frosty and agitated with the others around the hotel, upset that he can't just fix it

He would give you the biggest family if he could, whatever he could do to make you feel whole

It's not like you two are neglecting each other or growing apart, there's just this heavy feeling hanging between you two

Everyone knows something is up with you two, but nobody is brave enough to ask, except maybe Vaggie, but she's respecting your privacy as a couple

Of course, it's Charlie who tries to get to the bottom of things for the two of you, everyone is just worried you two are fighting

So when you finally relent and tell her the truth, she's relieved that you and Alastor only want to have a baby-

YOU AND ALASTOR WANT TO HAVE A BABY!?

Sinners can't reproduce so you're just riding out your baby fever until it's manageable again

But no sinner has had a friend in the Morningstar family before

Not even a day later Alastor is greeted by Lucifer while you're out with Charlie and the others

"Hey man, heard you wanted me to get your wife pregnant! Lucky for you, I happen to have a thing for married women~"

When you come back home you're surprised to see Lucifer and your husband talking amicably, both turning their heads towards you immediately

"Ah! Would you look at the time? I should really get going, things to do, ducks to make-what?"

Lucifer gives you an unexpected side hug on his way out, hand resting momentarily on your stomach before leaving

You rub where he touched, surprised by the sudden warmth that lingers there

Your husband is looking at you strangely too but kisses you in greeting before you can even question it

Alastor acts rather clingy the rest of the day, following you around, asking you how you're feeling, giving affection more freely

You can't deny that you're loving the attention and soaking up every bit of it, the warmth in your stomach having spread throughout your entire body now

If Alastor's sudden neediness is anything to go by, he's feeling the same as you are

How either of you manage to wait until everyone has gone to bed to indulge in each other is beyond you

The entire night is a blur but when you wake up the entire bed has nearly been torn apart

Feathers are all over the place, the blankets have all been kicked away or shredded, the bed frame is clawed and cracked

You would almost feel embarrassed, but when you look at your handiwork on your husband, you can't help but feel proud

Things mostly go back to normal after that, except Lucifer visits more often and seems to pay special attention to you

You feel like everyone is watching you lately and you don't know why, you're never alone anymore, your husband especially is very hovery

But it ends up working out in your favor because one day you wake up, overwhelmed by the urge to vomit, your husband holding back your hair

And it keeps happening for days on end, and you start gaining weight without explanation, and your cravings are suddenly intense and-

Your husband is looking a little too pleased with himself, rubbing your back soothingly as you poke at your mysteriously changing body in the mirror

"You did this to me somehow, didn't you!"

"Why honey, why would I need to babytrap you when we're already married?"

"Because you-what?"

It takes a few moments to register what he said, all the strange things in the last few months clicking into place

"You got me pregnant..?"

He actually starts to look a little embarrassed, suddenly unsure if he really did the right thing after all-

When did he end up on the bed?

Is definitely sure in his decision later when he exits the bedroom, fixing his hair and clothes while he leaves you sleeping in bed

Luckily, the hotel has a lot of people who are willing to help out with your pregnancy because Alastor is worried he's actually in over his head

Your mood swings are more like mood hurricanes and sometimes he needs help knowing the right things to say

"Y/N, don't worry about not fitting into your own clothes, this is uh...just an opportunity to get new ones!"

"T-Thanks Vaggie..."

The cravings start to get fucking weird, Alastor genuinely repulsed by some of the things you're asking him for

"Darling, I can get you fresh meat as bloody as you want but do you really need to eat it with cake and ice cream?"

"Don't you love me..?"

He'll be back in 10 minutes

The bigger you get, the more sore and tired you are, constantly needing help around the hotel as you waddle around

"Thanks for helping me, Husk...I was getting really tired."

"Charlie, is it alright if I sit in that chair? My back is killing me.."

Alastor is scared with how vulnerable you are like this so he sticks close to you but silently appreciates the help from everyone

Even the other overlords come to see your miracle pregnancy, which doesn't help with Alastor's paranoia over how defenseless you are right now

They just want to see

As if Carmilla or Rosie would let anything happen to you anyways, Rosie loves the crap out of you and Carmilla wouldn't hurt an expecting mother

Rosie is constantly visiting and bringing baby gifts, so many that they're starting to pile up around the hotel

"Oh darling, you're practically glowing! Alastor! Have you told Y/N how radiant she is with her pregnancy?"

She wants to be Aunty Rosie so bad

Alastor genuinely admires the changes in your body, feeling pride in the thought that he did this to you

"With a little help from the big boss of-"

"You haven't left already?"

"I want to talk to my god child~ Can you stop hogging Y/N's belly for five minutes?"

"Your what now?

Alastor rubs your belly a lot, baffled by the idea that his spawn is in there and how happily you carry it

How you're so proud to be having his kid is beyond him, he knows what a wretched man he is and you still love him, take pride in him

The first time he feels the baby kick, he's a little unnerved but then you guide his hand back, smiling at him in a way that makes his heart ache for you

"Our baby wants to say hi to you..."

Okay, now his heart is melting, give your husband a kiss right now

Starts kissing and talking to your belly more after that, talking to the baby about anything and everything as if you're not even there

"Now your mother, you have no idea how lucky she is to have me as her husband~"

Confides in you late one night, about his fear of being a father and failing you and the baby

Not him having tears pinpricking in the corners of his eyes as you kiss him and reassure him

He doesn't particularly care about the gender of his child, just that you and the little spawn are okay

But if the baby is a girl, then he would like her to have his mother's name, that's all he would ask really

If the baby is a boy then he'll let you pick the name out as long as it's something fancy sounding

Does all the work when it comes to the nursery and baby proofing but has no idea what that actually entails, so you'll have to help him out

He's so proud to show you the finished look

The closer it gets to your due date, the more out of sorts and anxious he is but he tries to put on a brave face for you

He makes sure you never have to lift a finger, doing everything he can to make you comfortable and spending all his free time with you

Carmilla and her daughters all volunteer to assist in the labor, Zestial coming for the sake of tagging along

Alastor is in genuine anguish when you actually go into labor, the sound of you in pain and him being helpless to help is torture for him

Refuses to leave your side the entire time, blocking out everything else but you and encouraging you as best he can

Focuses so hard on taking care of you that he hardly notices that you've finished, surprised when Carmilla suddenly puts not one but two babies in your arms

You're visibly exhausted but seem to gain a renewed energy at the sight of your babies, looking at them in wonder before giving Alastor a tearful smile

"A boy and a girl, a miracle on top of already being miracle babies. Congratulations, Alastor."

Carmilla pats him on the shoulder before leaving, pulling Zestial and her daughters along with her

Alastor doesn't even register what she said, still dumbfounded at the sight of you cooing at two squirming infants

TWINS!? Lucifer, you sneaky son of a bi-

"Do you want to hold them, Alastor?"

"I would love nothing more, my dear..."

He definitely doesn't immediately fall in love when his babies cling to him like they'll never let go, holding his fingers in their unbelievably tiny hands

A LITTLE TREAT FOR ALL OF YOU WHO WERE BEGGING FOR THIS

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

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wonfilms · 7 months

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enhypen + giving them a hickey

0T7! { warnings: kissing, intense but there's nothing crazy} a/n: this was kinda crazy and very out of my usual writing style but THERES A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING gen: fluff + suggestive

“oh? what’re you getting at doll..?” heeseung’s eyes showed no sign of shyness, instead they glistened with a sort of playfulness as your lips pressed greedily against his neck, your eyelashes gently brushing his skin as your face presses up against it, he curses softly under his breath, “hmm…” your hums reverberated through him too, sending gentle waves of want through his abdomen, butterflies threatening to flood his stomach. he sucks in a breath stroking your hair softly, as a soft groan of appreciation slipped absent-mindedly from his lips, his head gently tilting up, hair splayed across the sheets, giving you even further access to his neck. “you better not leave a mark h..honey…”

“...oh so that’s what’re you’re doing?” jay smirks softly, a gentle blush covering his cheeks as he feels your teeth graze his jawline.. and then your smile oh so “innocent“-ly against his skin.. and he feels a moan slip from his mouth. “oh god” he curses under his breath.. hands tangling gently in your hair as he melts against the pillows.. his hair tousled.. he looks almost vulnerable, jay never looks vulnerable.. except for now.. you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger and all he was doing is letting you work him up, “y..you’re gonna make me go crazy ___ ”

“t..tickles-” jake complains breathily, his teeth trapping his soft bottom lip between them.. Your breath grazed his neck ever so gently it felt like a dream. his head swam with hazy thoughts that he didn’t think he was capable of picturing. it all felt like too much.. his skin was warm against your mouth.. sensitive , as your teeth gently bit down at the sweet spot on his neck that you’d mapped into your head a hundred times over. he cowered under your touch, a vivid warm blush flooding his cheeks, “y..you’re such a little tease”

“d…don’t stop.” sunghoon’s words are barely audible. he’s completely lost, face flushed and body pliable under your gentle touches. your mouth works wonders as you suck soft marks against his pale skin, a physical reflection of your love. he breathes out shakily as your tongue traces little patterns against the sweet spot under his jaw. he watches through lidded eyes as you kiss every little mole and beauty spot on his neck, that’s all he can do.. all he can do is be an utter blushing mess for you.

“y..you better help cover this up later..?” sunoo laughs gently as he feels your gentle lips against his skin, he sucks in a breath letting you kiss his neck almost feather light, it’s almost ticklish… until your press a slightly harder kiss against his adam’s apple, it sent a flash of warmth up to his cheeks, making them rosy. you have the audacity to smirk, it’s cute, he makes a mental note to get you back later as he sighs smiling.. “you’re crazy y’know”

“i… i thought you wanted help with your thesis.. w..what–” jungwon’s eyes fluttered shut as you kissed him cutting his speech off. he hummed softly into the kiss, lips gravitating towards you even when you pull away. he pouts confused before you’re pushing him backwards, his head hits the pillows and his eyes widen as he feels your tongue gently drawing hearts against his neck. a gentle groan leaves his mouth.. it’s like he has something lodged in his throat, the way his tried to swallow down his noises. his head swam as he gripped the sheets. he hears you whisper “just relax” into his ear, lips grazing his lobes. “c…can’t relax when i have you kissing my neck like that..”

“this.. is so gonna leave a damn mark” niki strokes your cheek trying to play it cool as you kiss his neck hungrily, it feels surreal to him, your soft plump lips dragging so damn gently against his skin, your teeth nibbling gently before pulling away, your tongue soothing the temporary sting, his head swam imprinting this feeling right into his memory, he was going to tease you later but for now all he could do was drown himself in the feeling of your kisses.

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adams-angels · 7 months

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Insecure Adam x reader! like he's insecure about his face because Eve and Lilith abandoned him

Oh this was too fun to write. Insecure boys 😳🥵

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Imposter syndrome

Adam's a nice enough guy. A bit too cocky for your taste, just straight up vulgar at times. So when he asked you on a date you initially said no thanks. And he took it well or so you thought.

Internally he was freaking the fuck out. He hated rejection. HATED IT. It made him feel small. His chest collapsing in on its self. He quickly hurried away from you. You wouldn't see him for weeks maybe even months.

The next time you saw him is mask was slighty different. The LED brighter, more golden. The horns bigger and pointer. It was a small change but you notice.

"hey, Adam?"

"what's up, sweet tits."

"uh, your mask. Is it new?" You ask with a smile.

He gets a shit eating grin. "Yeah. You noticed?"

"yes, well, I tend to notice things." You replied playfully.

Adam took this as a good sign. You must like his new mask! You must like him! "Soo... What are you doing later?" He checks his nails, not giving you any time to reply. "I know this tight place. Only the best get in... I could... I don't know. Take you? If you want?"

"oh, well, I didn't have anything planned. So.. sure, Adam." His feathers puffed up in delight. "Cool. Pick you up at 8, sugartits." And that was it. You were dating Adam, the first man, the original dick.

You've been dating for about a year. You've gotten to the point of spending most weekends at each others apartments. And you noticed Adam will always have his mask on. He'd walk into the bathroom shower and come back with it on before anything else. He'd wear it during sex. Even to eat! You didn't even understand how that worked. You remember one time coming over and having to wait outside for 5 minutes because he needed his mask on. It was honestly getting annoying. You wanted to see his face. Especially when getting intimate. To feel his real lips on your body. Well, tonight was the night you decided. You were going to ask him to take off his mask.

You were cooking dinner while Adam was sat on your couch watching tv.

"Adam, sweetie... Can I ask you something?"

"sure thing, sugartits." His eyes not leaving the screen.

"why do you always wear that mask?"

His heart dropped, palms immediately went clammy as he shoots you a look. "What? Don't you like it?" You put down the knife you were using to chop up the vegetables for the meal. "no, of course I like it. It's just.." you walk over to the sink to wash your hands. "It would be nice to see you face. Like your real face?" You couldn't see but his hands clenched his robe so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

All he heard was static from then on, thoughts circling his head. What if you laugh at him. What if you leave him. What if you hate him. What if you're so repulsed by him you- "Adam!" You were crouched in front of him. He didn't even notice. "Huh, what?"

"you like.. froze? Are you okay?"

"tsk, yeah. I'm fuckin' Adam. I'm always okay, bitch." He leaned back in the couch putting your his arm over the back of it.

"well, I was talking and you stopped responding.. if you don't want to take your mask off you don't have to." He didn't even know you asked.

"psht, I'm not bothered. If you want me to take my mask off just ask." He rolled his eyes then looked away.

"okay... Can you take off your mask please?"

He froze again, his eyes dart to you."s-seriously?" He scoffed. "Whatever. You want it off you can take it off." You stood up. "Okay." Your hands reached down to his mask, he started pushing himself away, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as your fingers curled under neck. You got up to his jaw before he pulled it back down. "I'M NOT READY! I'M NOT READY! PLEASE!" You snatched your hands away as his gripped onto the horns holding his mask in place. "Adam?"

"I'm not... I can't do it. Please don't take it off..."

"I won't. I promise."

"I'm sorry.." his voice cracked and it broke your heart.

"no, no, don't be. You don't have to be sorry." You put your hand on his knees for reassurance. "When you're ready. Okay?"

"okay.." his wraps his arms around you, pulling you on to his lap. You both just hold each other. Until he's ready.

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam x reader

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sweet1delusi0ns · 4 months

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Naruto boys random headcanons──☆*:・ﾟ

Sfw

Characters: Naruto🦊,sasuke🗡️,Itachi🥀, kakashi🍃, kiba🐺, shikamaru🀄️,shino🪲,neji🎋,Lee🥋,choji🍥,gaara⏳,kankuro🪆

Naruto🦊-*

Hes lazy at home. Not because he’s tired he just wants you to take care of him, but when you call him a baby for all these requests he gets mad “I AM NOT A BABY! I AM A GROWN MAN! NOW SPOON FEED ME!”

He tries to prank you but fails, your too smart to fall for it. He always tries to trip you in public while walking and every time he is the one on the floor and your the one laughing some how-

He likes the idea of drawing and being an artist he just can’t draw. He can only draw stick people with different hair, one time he tried to draw you, gave up and instead gave you a picture of a stick person with your hair. It’s now on the fridge LOL

He tries to act cool around his friend with you but just makes a fool of himself. “Yeah this my bae so what?” “Yeah I’m his bae and he’s my baby, my big, soft, smiley baby!” His soul is now crushed and his friends all laughing

He sleeps like a ANIMAL. he full on can’t sleep normally, You both go to bed the same time, one of you is always gunna wake up on the floor, mostly you. Then he wakes up like “why you on the floor?”

Sasuke🗡️-*

He may seem cool but he gets very flustered. He doesn’t cover his face though he just closes his eyes so he doesn’t get more flustered and so he can ignore the fact that he is red

He CANT Dance, don’t EVER take him dancing. It’s not because he’s bad at dancing he just never learn. If there is music he will bop his head to the beat though, if you try to get him to dance he will freak out and freeze. He just doesn’t like it ok!

His waist is weirdly sensitive, you could barely touch his waist and he will start giggling. He isn’t ticklish anywhere else but if you take a feather to his waist he will start LAUGHING

He will kick your feet when he wants attention. If you guys are out to dinner with friends he will kick you under the table to get your attention, he thinks it’s funny until you fight back and stomp on his foot. He made you kiss his pain away at home, atleast he got attention LOL

He forgets the silliest things one time he forgot how to tie a knot so anything he needs to tie like his clothes or shoes you had to do for him. You don’t know if he actually forgot or if he just wanted to be babied-

Itachi🥀-*

He can’t handle heatwaves. If it’s over 90 degrees he’s gone for. One time you woke up on a heat wave morning waiting for him to wake up and walk out but he never did, you went to find him and he was in bed, sprawled out, shirt and covers off soaked in sweat. You had to rub ice on him to get him conscious -

Unlike naruto, he likes drawing and can ACTUALLY DRAW, although he can only draw plants but he doesn’t mind he likes plants! He will draw you flowers instead of buying you some which is like equally as cute~

He has very sensitive eyes. Like how he can’t handle heat he cant handle the sun either. If it isn’t cloudy he will have to squint to keep his eyes from hurting. When you told him to wear sun glasses he said “I still want to see you clearly though love…”

He’s not a big fan of skin care but he likes those face roller things. He bought one just so you could use it on him, he likes that it’s cold but also massaging!

He sneezes like a girl- he has the cutest, most petite sneeze you’ve ever heard out of a man which is cute and very funny. He doesn’t even realize it either “a-choo!” “That was crazy out of character” “huh?”

Kakashi🍃-*

He’s allergic to cats, he likes cats sure but he never hangs around them because he’s allergic. You didn’t know that and one day you brought a stray inside and he instantly turned puffy (poor thing)

Once he gets home and discards the mask he puts lip tint on. He has pink lips for that reason. When he first puts it on he will find you and kiss you just to leave a mark before waiting 10 minutes then whipping it off

He needs reading glasses but never uses them, then complains to you when he gets a headache as if you didn’t tell him to put them on

He takes a lot of baths. If he showers it bound to end up a bath. And he doesn’t care if your using the bathroom if he wants a bath he’s gunna make a god Danm bath. One time You were just washing your face and he busted in the door and ran to the bathtub, You washed your face as fast as you could-

He is EXTREMELY tired when he first wakes up, he doesn’t move for like 20 minutes so if he needs to get up and do stuff your gunna have to make him, like actually you’ll have the carry him out of bed.

Kiba🐺-*

He bites his nails from stress so you have made it a habit to smack his hand away when he does. It worked since all you have to do is tap him softly and he will stop. He’s so glad you help him get over bad habits

He decorated akamarus ears when he’s bored, one time you walk in on him giggling like a little girl and akamarus ears were pulled together in a little ponytail! You joined in on the fun🤞

He comes back from a casual walk along a complete mess, you have no idea how but one day he came back with half a bush stuck on his leg. He always cleans up though!

He sometimes transforms akamaru into himself to prank his friends or you, mostly you. One time akamaru came up to you as Kiba and started licking your face “EW OH MY GOD?!” “AUUFF AUF!” “KIBA YOUR NOT FUNNY”

He always has tan cheeks and nose. Compared to the rest of his face, his cheeks are cute and golden!

Shikamaru🀄️-*

He lets you win at intelligents based games to make you feel better. Except one time he actually tried and lost. He’s convinced you cheated

His hair is straight but gets very frizzy if not cared for. (You care for it since he’s lazyy)

He draws on himself when bored, mostly just trippy designs like swirls and stuff. Will also let you draw on him, only if your good tho he doesn’t want “bad drawing” on him😔

He has a box FULL of hair ties and will notice if you take one. “This one you literally stole from me?” “Don’t care put it back!!!”

He gets Freezingly cold at night, like really really cold. When he snuggles up to you to warm up you could feel how cold he really is and you don’t understand how since you are both under covers-

Shino🪲-*

He keeps bugs in the house so they can watch over anything, they are basically his security cameras-

His hair is so cute and wavy! Also gets very frizzy because of the texture like Shika. He also makes you take care of it, he just really likes you touching his hair

He gives you bugs as gifts, not like freaky beetles but cute little bugs like lady bugs or fuzzy green caterpillars. You find it cute that he gives you things that mean so much to him

He shockingly has a sensitive neck, only to you though. Bugs can crawl all over it and he doesn’t move but if you try to kiss it he gets chills. Also shockingly he has really soft skin idk maybe he sheds skin (IM JOKING)

When he gets home and can finally undress he lets you take his glasses off since you love his eyes and he loves that you love them. He gets insecure about it sometimes!

Neji🎋-*

He speak really highly and intelligently but he’s honestly a little dumb sometimes, or maybe he’s just dumb with you to be silly we don’t know

The only jewelry he really wears is an ankle bracelet you got him

He loves hair charms, he likes decorating his hair! He likes putting clips and braids in it, sometimes even put color streaks in it if he wants to be festive

He really likes pottery and making things out of clay, he’s very creative and he finds clay the perfect outlet. He even makes pots for you!

He has a flower garden that NO ONE is allowed in. He treats them like they’re his baby’s, because they are! He’s favorite plant he has is his cactuses.

Lee🥋-*

He’s extremely energetic and powerful yet he has asthma, he denies it. But if it’s really hot outside he runs out of breath REALLY fast which makes you worry

He’s scared of spiders you kill the spiders for him or he runs! If you trap a spider and chase him with it he will almost start crying (he will start crying) he’s ashamed to admit spiders are his weakness

He wears mascara, he gotta make them lashes voluminous yk. He stole his mascara from tenten too. You made him give it back to her and bought him his own

It’s pretty obvious but he is FLEXIBLE! Backbend, splits anything he can do. You thought he broke his spine onces-

He’s not much of a plant guy but he has the TINIEST succulent in your room that he cares for, every other plant he has had died but not that one~

Choji🍥-*

He loves finger painting and is actually really good at it, you’d think it was made by a professional and an actual paint brush but no it was Choji and his finger paint😭

His hair is so thick most hair ties he uses break. He has to use hair needles instead because it’s the only thing that holds if he wants his hair up for a while

He thinks pillow fights are actually entertaining he could have a pillow fight with you all day and never get bored. He goes crazy if he’s over at someone’s house and they suggest pillow fights!

He loves bath bombs!!! He basically died when you run him a bath and put bath bombs in it, his favorite scent it lavender. Even if you didn’t add a bath bomb he loves when you make him baths he thinks its adorable

He paints your cheeks like his in your sleep, that’s his idea of a prank even though it’s basically him just being a cutie “look now your like me y/n!!”

Gaara⏳-*

He turns the black rings around his eyes to cat eyes sometimes. He looks ADORABLE with cat eyes. He sometimes even uses eye shadow too, if he can’t change it he thought might as well make it look cutee

He’s scared of mosquitos, he just doesn’t like bugs that can fly and go after human blood it freaks him out

He wears one of those scent bracelets and puts your signature scent in it so he always smells like you~

He gifts you plants all the time

He collect the silliest things, there are these cute little cat charms at a near by store and he’s working on collecting them all!

Kankuro🪆-*

Shockingly he really likes reading. He likes fiction books the most, he asks you for suggestions

He asks you what new make up design he should try, sometimes he just gives you the brush and lets you go wild. But you always make him look cute~

He fidgets with the ears on his hat when he’s bored. It rubbed off on you so now if he’s around you with his hat on you start messing with them-

He steals your clothes and hides them so you have no choice but to ask to use his for the day. After the day is over he comes up to you smiling and hands you your missing clothes “found em!” “By found em do you mean took them out of the hiding spot?” “Yeah-”

He paints his nails either black, pink or purple. He also lets you paint them, it honestly just ends up a mess. He would totally whip nail polishes on your nose~

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annwrites · 19 days

Text

a call to arms. part four.

— pairing: jacaerys velaryon x dragonseed!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: jace invites you to dinner.

— word count: 3,218

— tagging list: @emilynissangtr @tvangelism @aemondwhoresworld @cecestea @daisyhxsh (continued in comments)

Once Silverwing has landed, Jacaerys descends her first, before motioning for you to do the same, staring up at you with a soft smile and open arms.

You take each step carefully, your footing still very unsure—something you tell yourself will change in time…mayhaps with much time—and then you feel his hands firmly gripping either of your hips.

You jump, landing on two solid feet, before slowly turning round to him.

He runs a soft hand down your arm with furrowed brows. “You’re shivering.”

He unclasps the dark velvet cloak which hangs from his shoulders, instead wrapping it around your own.

“Oh, you don’t need to—”

He cups your cheek, finding it to be cold to the touch. “You may return it to me later.”

He takes a small step closer, slipping his hand beneath the garment, settling it against the small of your back while he gazes down at you, his lip twitching with an idea in mind. “Mayhaps, this evening—”

“Jace,” calls a feminine voice to the right of you.

You both turn, Jace’s warm hands falling away.

He nervously clears his throat. “Y/N, this is the Lady Baela Targaryen. Baela, this is Y/N, one of my mother’s dragonseeds, alongside Hugh Hammer.”

Baela steps closer, giving you a gentle smile, and you give her your best curtsy. “My lady.”

She glances from you, then to Jace, before finally settling on you once again.

“Jace’s cousin. And betrothed.” She pauses before continuing. “It is a pleasure, I’m sure.”

You nod. “The pleasure is mine, my lady.”

She turns her sights to Jacaerys. “Your mother wishes to speak with you. To gauge how this afternoon’s…riding went.”

She forces a smile with pressed lips, her arms resting behind her back with tightly squeezed fists.

He nods, just once. “Of course.”

He looks to you. “I will escort Y/N back to her chambers, and then—”

“I am sure Y/N can find her way from here.”

She looks at you. “Can you not?”

You don’t meet her eyes when you nod, stepping silently away, wanting to hide yourself away where you cannot be seen.

The day had gone from bad, to worse, to extraordinary, to bad again.

“Is that not your cloak, Jace?”

You stop in your tracks, wavering.

“Yes. She was…cold. I’ve lent it to her for the time being.”

Baela glances to your backside for a moment. “I see.”

You exit through those large double-doors, heading in the direction of your room without another word.

“You’ve spent quite a lot of time with her these last two days.”

Jacaerys heads past Baela, in the direction of his mother’s chambers. “Someone must teach her how to properly ride, and, as the dragonkeepers refuse to—”

“Are you to be her tutor in learning our mother tongue as well?”

Jace’s brows furrow as he turns round to her.

She takes a step closer, clasping one of her hands atop the back of the other, resting them over her middle. “I heard the two of you yesterday. Saw… It was as if you could not keep your hands from her.”

“You were spying on us?” He asks with a tone of disbelief.

“I had understood the duty of tutoring her in High Valyrian to have been delegated to Maester Gerardys. Or am I mistaken?”

Jace settles his arms behind his back. “He was not using a firm enough hand. Was being too lenient. Too—”

“Yes, I saw just how firm your hand had been last evening.”

He takes a step closer, his pulse hammering at her insinuations.

As if they are unfounded…

How he hates that they are not.

“What is it, precisely, which you mean to imply, cousin?”

Her eyes flit between his own, searching for her betrothed within. “She is very beautiful.”

He does not reply, but she notes how a muscle in his solid jaw feathers at her words.

“Is it her pale skin, or her pretty, violet eyes? Mayhaps it is that she is new and exciting which draws you in.”

He scoffs. “She is a commoner. Baseborn—of the streets of King’s Landing.”

“So she means nothing to you, then?”

He does not hesitate when he answers. “She is a means to an end for our cause. Nothing more.”

She swallows down a lump in her throat.

“If you are to one day be king,” she says, stepping closer—their chests nearly touching. “You will need to become a far more practised liar, My Prince.”

With that, she steps away.

You servants return to you that evening, but your hopes of soon having dinner are squashed when you see one holding a large wooden board with trinkets set atop it—the other a soft black gown draped over her arms.

You stand.

The one with the board comes toward you. “A gift, from the Prince Jacaerys.”

You look it over. On one side is a stack of parchment, along with an ink pot and two quills. The other side has a collection of colored wax, a bowl to hold it once melted, a stamper, matches, and small ribbons to wrap your correspondences in.

Your eyes meet hers and she smiles softly. “To write to your family and friends, I presume.”

You smile broadly.

“You can uh—” You glance across the room.

“The desk, Y/N?”

You nod happily.

The next one comes forward, presenting you with a new gown. You run your fingers along the soft, flowing material, and she holds it in front of her for closer inspection. The breasts are littered with tiny silver diamonds, the sleeves long, and the neckline high—it should reach just above your clavicle—but sheer.

“These are to go with it,” she says, setting the dress aside, presenting you with a glossy black pair of slippers.

“And this.”

She retrieves from her pocket a long silver chain, a bauble hanging from the end.

You take the charm into your palm: a polished, oval-shaped piece of onyx, which glitters as if it is filled with thousands of tiny sparks of light.

“Shall we help you dress?” Calls the blonde girl from behind you.

And then the brunette speaks. “Prince Jacaerys…he has requested your presence. For dinner. To join him, that is.”

Your eyes widen. “He has?”

She nods.

You waver for a moment. “You both may help me…once you tell me your names.”

You rub your hand nervously along your forearm. “I should’ve asked as much sooner. I apologize.”

You smile then, as does the small brunette which stands before you. “I’m Nataly.”

The blonde comes around, picking up the dress. “I’m Ellanor.”

“Could…could I call you each Nat and Ella? If you prefer otherwise, that’s perfectly—”

Nataly shifts. “I prefer my full name, actually. Otherwise, it makes me sound like an insect…”

You grin, as does she. “Of course.”

Ellanor speak with a smile. “My mother calls me Ella. I would like that, Y/N.”

Once Jacaery’s guard has announced your presence, you’re bid entry to his chambers.

You take a brief moment to look upon your surroundings—finding them just as decadent as you’d expected them to be.

Pushed against the far wall is a four-post canopied bed, with rich black velvet curtains and a tapestry of the heraldry of his house hanging high upon the wall at the head of it. At the foot of the bed rests a sizeable wooden trunk, with a long black-and-red cloth draped over the top.

Stained glass windows line the left side of the room, casting the floor in various shades of more red, and blue and purple and gold—two large bookshelves are placed between said windows in the middle of the wall, and a looming wardrobe is shoved into a corner, a sizeable hearth crackles against the opposite wall to your right, and in the middle of the space is a dining table.

Beautiful rugs are littered across the floor, and gleaming braziers line the walls, paintings and wooden shelves with novels and woodwork placed here-and-there.

Jacaerys pulls out a chair from the dining table, waiting for you.

His dark eyes trail along your body, admiring his choice of gown for you to wear this evening, as well as the lovely braids your servants have done your hair in—loose, curled tendrils framing your comely face. And between your breasts hangs another gift from him to you: a new necklace.

You step slowly toward him, your skirts quietly swaying round your feet as you come closer.

“Did you receive the stationery set I gifted to you?”

You nod with a smile. “I did. I greatly appreciate it. Thank you, My Prince.”

He cups your cheek. “Jacaerys—or Jace—at least for tonight.”

You nod hesitantly. You then hand back to him his cloak.

He takes it gently from you, draping it over the back of your chair, nodding, indicating you should sit.

And so you do.

As he seats himself across from you, he battles against the feeling of guilt which fills him.

The two of you should not be here like this.

There was no harm in gifting you the writing set—you should’ve been provided as much your first day here—but the gown, the jewel… And being alone with you like this in such a private setting…

He should, instead, be dining with Baela. But she is not the one which plagues his every waking fucking moment now. Not the one who haunts him in his sleep with ghosting touches and whispered words and quiet laughs. Not the one who stokes the fire within him.

Who makes him burn with utter want and desire and lust.

Gods, how you drive him mad.

He does it to himself, clearly.

You seek him out not. But he does as much in regards to you.

It is such a strange dichotomy. To hate something, and yet it is all you are able to think about. To want. As if out of some perverse fascination.

He begins lifting silver lids from platters of food, watching your reaction to every one.

He is sure the dishes you’ve been served here have been far superior to any you ever tasted within the narrow streets of King’s Landing.

He’s sure that everything is better here.

Even if you act little like it.

Because you miss your family. Your…little girl. He wonders then, but not for the first time, if you truly meant it: calling him a ‘green boy’. For you are most-assuredly a woman grown. He’d thought himself a man until you came along.

He’s thought of creative ways he might prove to you just how much he is one, however.

Jacaerys begins serving you—roasted ham and seasoned vegetables, warm bread with butter—while you toy with the jewel that hangs round your neck.

His eyes flit your delicate hand. “Do you like it?”

Your eyes meet his. “Hm?”

He nods to the item you fidget with.

“Yes. It’s…very beautiful.”

You waver.

“But I was wondering… If it would not offend you,” not that you much care if it would—your family comes first. “I’d like to send it back to my family. They need it far more than I. It would feed them. For weeks. It would ease my mind to know they have it to sell.”

He considers for a moment, and then he stands, walking over to the trunk at the foot of his bed, and he opens it.

He leans over it, you hear something jingle, and then he returns to you.

“Hold out your hand,” he tells you gently.

Your brows furrow, but you do it nevertheless.

And then your eyes widen when he places a hefty sack of coin in your palm.

Tears brim as you stare up at him with a wobbling chin as you clutch the gift to your chest.

“Thank you, Jace. This…”

You shake your head, sniffling. “This will keep them well looked after for months. You’ve no idea what this means to me. This will feed my little one.”

He caresses your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s the least I can do for what you will do, in turn, for us, in time.”

He seats himself again, the two of you eating in silence until he breaks it. “Who is it which you take after?”

You glance up to him.

“Your…looks,” he explains.

You lick your lips and he shifts in his seat.

“My late father. He always claimed that he was told by his father, and so on, that we descended directly from the Conqueror himself.”

His jaw ticks. “And do you believe that?”

You shrug, taking a bite of a boiled potato. “It matters little to me. Until now, my bloodline—being of it—has done nothing for us. All I care about is the now. About this war being over, so I can return to those I love the most.”

He grows quiet again, but knows he will continually fill the silence with questions this evening.

He wants to know your story. Wishes for you to be less of an enigma to him. Mayhaps then the temptation of you will be lessened.

“How did he pass? If you don’t mind me asking,” he adds gently.

You move food round your plate with your fork, studying it intently. “It was an accident. He…he was a skilled worker. Could do most anything he put his mind to. From working with stone, to wood, to metal. He was helping build a ship in the harbor. A support beam was not…properly secured. He and one other…”

You stop speaking, deigning that you’ve disclosed enough to serve as an answer.

“I’m sorry,” he replies, sliding his hand across the table, taking your fingertips within his grasp, brushing his thumb along them.

You nod. “Me too.”

He returns his hand to his lap then.

“How long have you and Lady Baela been engaged?” You ask with a soft smile.

He stills. “Not long. Only a few weeks, in fact. A measure by my mother...”

You nod. “She’s very pretty—I like her hair. Is it…strange that she’s your family, and will also be your wife?”

He shrugs slightly. “I suppose not. It’s rather commonplace within my lineage to wed in such a manner.”

His eyes flit to you. “I suppose even you and I are related. Perhaps we are incredibly distant cousins ourselves. So many times removed and so on.”

Your lip twitches. “Very strange to think about.”

He likes the idea of such a prospect, though. It makes him feel…closer to you, somehow. The least bit more familiar, if nothing else.

He clears his throat. “I imagine you mean to wed one day yourself?”

You take a bite of your ham, cutting it into small slices. “When the time is right, and I find someone who can ever hold up to the example my father set for what a true man consists of, perhaps.”

“Rough hands and strong arms,” he replies quietly, looking at you.

You gaze down at your plate with a soft smile and warm cheeks. “Yes, I think so.”

He nods silently, filling with disappointment.

And then he gazes at you over soft, flickering candlelight. “Would you never consider a man of a different…type—build—for yourself?”

You look at him.

“It is possible,” he says, leaning the least bit forward. “To change your mind about that which you think you want. If you only consider other options.”

Without knowing what to say to that, you take a sip of your wine.

Once dinner is through, you make to bid him goodnight, until he slides a hand down your arm, taking your own within his.

Your eyes flit between Jace’s.

“Dance with me,” he whispers.

You raise a brow, thinking he can’t possibly be serious.

“There’s no music,” you say with a grin, ready to pull away, most-assured that he merely jests.

He only shrugs in response, winding an arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest, his other hand raising until it’s at shoulder-level—yours still held firm within its grip.

Awkwardly, you place your free hand upon his lean shoulder, not entirely sure what to do with yourself.

He begins to move…and you promptly step on his foot.

You sigh, ready to—once again—leave, until he squeezes your waist, lifting your feet onto his.

Jace turns the two of you round and round in small circles, lifting you with ease with each step.

He gazes down at you.

“Not as weak as I look,” he remarks with a smirk.

He slides his hand down your waist, resting his palm flat against the small of your back, his fingertips grazing the top of your rear.

His opposite hand releases yours, and you wrap it around his neck for support—so as to prevent yourself from falling over—while his slides into your hair, cradling the back of your head.

He rocks the two of you back and forth—impossibly slow—his dark eyes gazing into your own.

He lowers his head, his parted lips hovering atop yours, and you feel the length of him pressing against your stomach.

You whimper at the feeling, standing on tiptoes, grinding your middle against his member, and he sucks in a sharp breath before moaning in pleasure at the feel.

You begin to grow warm between your thighs—your smallclothes clinging to you—and your breaths come out in shallow pants.

He slides the hand which rests against your back even lower, and lower, until he’s cupping one of your round cheeks, and he gently squeezes, his member twitching against you.

A pleasant pulse settles between your thighs and you glance down to his tented trousers, nodding quietly.

He removes his hand from your arse, reaching into his pants, beginning to stroke, continuing to hold the back of your head.

Jace presses his forehead to yours, his eyes fluttering closed as he tends to himself.

You run your fingers through his hair, shooshing him, your entire body feeling as if it’s been set ablaze.

The only sound to break the taught silence is the crackling of the fire, the shift of his clothing with each stroke of his cock, and his ragged breathing.

He groans softly, pressing his lips to your forehead before returning his own to it—sweat beginning to bead on each of your brows.

You are unsure if the fire has suddenly grown hotter, or if the warmth is of your own two’s making.

“That’s it,” you whisper.

He shudders.

“Gods, I want—” He swallows thickly.

“Tell me,” you prod, pressing your breasts against his solid chest.

“I want—ah,” his movements begin to quicken, his fingers tangling painfully in your hair in anticipation.

You nod eagerly. “Yes?”

He licks his dry lips. “I want y—”

There is a sharp knock at the door then, and the two of you quickly break apart, Jacaerys swiftly stepping across the room, situating himself in his pants, desperately trying to calm his pounding heart and throbbing cock.

You run a hand down your neck, finding it now slick with sweat.

“Yes,” he calls, and two servants enter—quickly bowing, before clearing the dining table.

He glances back to you—his face flushed and silken curls falling over his brow—with an unreadable expression. But with fire still burning in his eyes.

You merely curtsy, tell him ‘goodnight’, and then exit without another word, leaving him standing there…wanting after you, like a dragon does its lost quarry.

#fic: hotd (jacaerys velaryon x reader)#jacaerys fanfic #jacaerys velaryon x y/n #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon x reader #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x oc #hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #jacaerys fanfiction

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thegnomelord · 9 months

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Ok, so I loved your dragon reader/ dragon price fic. The detailed courting rituals got me thinking about how different members of TF 141 react to a s/o who has different courting rituals than them.

The one rolling around in my mind rn is Gaz (which I'm pretty sure is a harpy or bird hybrid of some kind) with a dragon reader.

So Gaz tries to court reader through a more fancy version of pebbling. But, instead of giving cool rocks and sticks, it's gemstones and weapons. Yknow, expensive/fancy things that Gaz thinks the reader might want to add to his hoard.

Btw do you have an anon list? If so, is 👑 anon available?

I don't have an anon list yet but you're welcome to be 👑anon!

It's cool to think how they'd try to court you. I hc that werewolves, and Johnny by extension, are really straightforward. Like sitting way too close, hands roaming over your body, trying to lick into your mouth and going "Hey wanna make more of us?"

Ghost, the poor thing, is completely fucked bc he was human before becoming a wraith, how the Hell is he supposed to know? Que him going through Wikipedia articles and watching documentaries of your species courting and mating (having to rub one out imaging you and him in that position ofc) and just stumbling through the whole courting thing.

CW:NSFW

But Gaz? Oooh Gaz—

Safe to say he's fallen ass over tits for you.

It's the way you take care of them, of him, of the monstrous strength used to defend them turning velvet soft when Gaz needs emotional support that has his harpy hindmind demanding to lock you down before a competitor snatches you away.

Only problem — you're not a harpy. And Gaz has no idea how courtship works, as when he asks Price about it (under the guise of just being curious) the old fart just gives him an amused look and tells him to figure it out.

Though harpies and dragons are two different species, he figures there must be some similarities, so he figures to listen to the old fairy tales about your kind and looks for the shiniest thing he can find, because Harpies court by giving gifts and dragons like to hoard and both of them like shiny stuff right?

You're confused like Hell when one day you wake up to find a silver ring with a shiny amethyst sitting on your windowsill. You know for a fact it's not yours as the instinct to catalogue every item in your hoard is as old as the draconic blood running through your veins and you'd remember if you had it.

When you make sure it's not stolen and no owner can be found, (because who'd wear that type of ring in a military base?) you decide to keep it, failing to notice how the way Gaz's pupils get bigger when you put the ring in your pocket.

It is a nice ring, the shine of the gemstone tickling your brain in a pleasant way. The military doesn't allow dragons to have large hoards, most of the items you've gathered over the decades and centuries safely hidden in vaults, but it feels good to have a small hoard in your den.

You expect this to be a one off event. But. No. Every few weeks you find a new thing on your windowsill, from gems to guns to additions to weapons you've expressed you'd like to get. Each new thing leaves you scratching your head, annoyance growing bit by bit as there's never enough scent on the items to track the culprit down and it's not like you can turn the base upside down looking for them (again).

You're unsure how to feel; it's obvious someone is trying to court you, but it definitely can't be Price because no dragon would go about it like this. But you have to admit it's nice to be desired, regardless how odd the method may be.

Then you notice how Gaz has started acting. . . different. He'll ruffle his feathers and flutter his wings more than usual when you two are alone, purposely stretch more often to make your eyes naturally draw to him, sticking to your side as he talks about everything and anything under the sun.

You're also not a fool. You can figure out it's a harpy's way of trying to show off, but without any open hostility you can only assume he's trying to court you. And you let him, you like his presence and the sound of his voice, the way he gives you a lopsided smile and the way his dark feathers shine like onyx gems when the light hits them juuust right and the way he flushes and stutters when your tail wraps around his leg.

Then one late evening when you're doing paperwork you catch sight of something behind your window in the corner of your eye. Like a flash you're opening the window, your clawed hand gripping Gaz's hand before he can scatter.

Gaz's wings spread out wide, a surprised squawk leaving him as he looks into your slitted eyes. "Uh-, I, eh- Hi?" He says, gulping, his newest gift, a very shiny ruby, held in his hand. But what draws your eye are his dark feathers.

You let out an amused snort, "Hello." You purr, leaning in so your faces are close, enjoying the way he flushes from the proximity. "So you're the little thief that's been visiting me."

Gaz's feather puff up to make his silhouette twice as big, his eyes narrowing, a hurt and angry look spreading across his features. "I'm no thief!" He says, insulted that you'd suggest he can't get you gifts on his own. "I-"

"You are," You hum, reaching out your other hand to hold his jaw, and even with his anger he feels his mind croon at how softly you touch him. "You're in the process of stealing my heart."

"Oh." Is the most intelligent thing he can come up with, his pupils blowing wide like he'd just seen the shiniest thing in his life. "Oh."

"Yes," You shrug and pull your hand back to yank one of your scales out of your shoulder, giving it to him as you take the ruby. "Keep this safe for me, yeah?" You hum and then you let him go, going back to your work while he's left dumbstruck, clutching the scale close to his chest.

When it finally settles in his head that you'd just given him a gift, that you'd reciprocated, and given him a shiny gift, oh he's treating that scale like it's the most precious thing in his world. He keeps it close to him, cooing to it in the privacy of his room, keeping it on his pillow so he can fall asleep with your scent in his nose.

He also doubles down on the gifts, but now he's very open about it, to the point you'll have him randomly come into your office to give you something shiny or another weapon, preening so prettily when you praise the thing he's brought back, nuzzling into your neck and fluffing up his feathers. His heart swoons when you show him the small hoard you've made with all the things he's brought you, and you end up spending the entire evening with him cuddled up to you, chirping happily.

"Hey, can I see that scale I gave you?" You ask after a couple of weeks, curious to see how he's treated it.

"Uh, sure." Gaz can swear his heart's beating like a war drum as he watches you inspect your scale, checking for scratches or cracks.

But you find none, it's still as shiny as the day you'd given it to him. Maybe even shinier.

You smile and before he can do anything you pull him close to you by a hand on his hip. "Very well done, little thief." You hum, kissing him. Gaz melts against you, not even your lips able to muffle the happy chirps and croons that escape his chest.

You spend the next few months getting familiar with each other's bodies, lazy evenings spent with your clawed hands preening his wings, Gaz steadily melting into the bed with every brush of your fingers. Kyle taking a few extra minutes in the morning to rub his face between your wing, chirping and crooning.

Harpy mating season comes around and you're caught off guard when you come to your room to find your covers and pillows and entire wardrobe on the ground, turned into a makeshift nest with a very naked, and very horny, Gaz sitting in the middle of it.

His eyes are hazy but he knows you're there the second your scent hits his nose, the most desperate sound you've ever heard leaving his lips, bruised from how hard he'd been biting them to reign his noises in, to keep them only for you.

"Mate-" Kyle whines, shuffles in the nest that has the pretty gems he'd gifted you strewn amongst the fabric, "-need you, please- I-"

One more needy sound is all it takes to have you tumbling naked into the nest in record time, deep guttural purrs answering his pleased coos. He presses flush against you, seeking out your mouth, whole body burning up and his thighs shaking, his cock rock hard.

"I got you, pretty thief." You rumble, pulling him into your lap, his wings spreading out and feathers puffing up, as if he needs to make himself look even more desirable. "What do you need Kyle?"

"Need you," Kyle whines, pawing at your own erection, desperate fingers shaking as he strokes you, "Please- hurts, I need- mate."

You shush him with sweet kisses, your hand sliding down to very carefully stretch him open while avoiding injuring him with your claws, your mind purring at how willingly he opens up for you, wings and limbs shaking as he whimpers against your lips, his mind steadily leaking from his cock.

"You're alright," You calm him when you pull your fingers out, positioning him so your cock head rests against his entrance, not missing how Kyle preens at your strength. "Going to breed you right, gonna take care of you."

"Yes, yes, yes!" Kyle moans are loud as you steadily push your cock into him, his walls clamping down on every inch of your length. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank- mate." His claws dig into your shoulders, clutching you tight as you bottom out in him, his hole clenching you in sync with his ragged breathing.

"I'm here," You hum, barely able to think, "Just relax, let me take care of you." You say, feeling him relax into you, and with deep purrs and lots of praise you begin to fuck him, moving him like a fleshlight on your cock, letting him moan and groan and scream his heart out uncaring who hears it, your ancient blood singing at the thought of his noises being a testament to your abilities as a mate.

Then the tight heat and the scent and just Kyle has your mind forgetting how to think, your body moving on it's own to show Kyle he'd picked a good mate.

#cod mw2 #gnome correspondence #x reader #Gnome's Spittballs #trinkets from the hoard #male reader #top male reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x male reader #kyle gaz garrick x male reader #kyle gaz garrick #cod mlm #cod modern warfare #monster cod au #cod smut #cod x male reader

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