#This... became longer than I had anticipated

[codnasties]

bull rider!ghost 👻

having an uni bestie that's from a small rural town as someone who was born and raised in a city has it's perks, like getting to experience things you had never experienced before. and i'm talking about going to a rodeo.

crowd roaring as a new rider sat on an angry bull and got tossed into the air as the animal bucked fiercely. the first few wild dudes that you had seen were interesting. you know, the attraction of something new that you had never really seen before. but after a handful of them it started getting a bit boring, but your friend was cheering on so loudly and seemingly enjoying that so much it would probably be rude to tell them that you weren't having so much fun.

trying to find some kind of entertainment, you told your friend you were going to go and get a drink, because at this moment a beer looked like it would bring you some semblance of entertainment.

but you were wrong, because as you make your way back to the rodeo grounds, your eye caught a rider that was different. he had a commanding and charming aura to him, something that impelled you to look at him. well, maybe it was more that just the way he carried himself.

it was the way those jeans seemed to hug those thick thighs of his, how, with the help of the chaps he was wearing, they left little to imagination, giving you a perfect view of his ass. and oh what an ass! and his shirt... the way his strong and built muscle seemed to flex and ripple with each movement that he made.

when you finally made it back to where your friend was sitting - which took you longer than the way to the bar because of adoring such a man -, this mysterious dude was now on the chute, lowering himself onto one hell of an angry bull.

while the rest of the riders had caught your eye, there was nothing but anticipation inside of you to see him try to tame that ton and a half bull. and he did not disappoint, the beast beneath him bucking trying to get him of.

it wasn't just the way he has holding on or how long those eight seconds seemed to last when it was him on the arena. it was the way his hips swayed trying to follow the bulls movements, the way the bicep of the arm he was using to hold on became impossibly bigger with the tension, the veins that were proptinding on the hand he had up in the air, the glimpse of tattoos on his forearm as the sleeve of his shirt got pulled by his muscles.

before you ever realised, the buzzer had sounded, indicating that the time necessary was over and that he could now get off the bull. and when he did, you became even more intrigued by him and how fucking tall he looked and how he, amazingly, had managed to keep the hat he was wearing on his head the whole time.

seeing how entranced you were by this one specific rider, your friend immediately gave you that information that you were unknowingly desperate to know. "his name is simon riley, but they call him ghost"

"ghost?", you asked them back.

"yup, because of the way he rides, breaks records and then fucking vanishes. the public doesn't really know much about him or his personal life. and it's also a know fact that is hard to even get to meet him and talk to him" they explained. "oh, an also he ghost every single person that he fucks'

"hmm interesting", you hummed, starting to get into your head that as much as this 'ghost' seemed attractive and got you horny just from looking at him, he was quite unreachable and maybe a bit of an asshole.

"yeah, the man's a beast at what he does", they exclaimed, cutting your thought process.

"i can see, you don't need me to tell me twice", you uttered back.

"and he's actually a cousin of mine! let me introduce you to him'" they gave you further explanation.

you couldn't help the immediate 'oh' that left you. because you actually had a chance to talk to this man an maybe, maybe try to cham your way into those tight jeans of his. because an asshole has his charm, you know?

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

hope y'all enjoyed that, i just pulled this out of my pussy.

no smut just pure hornyness. anyways, save a horse ride a cowboy or sum

[lunaxriax]

Who's your favourite muse and why?

Oof. That's certainly a question to make one think. But thank you for the intriguing question!

I mean, don't get me wrong. There's not a muse that is my least favorite one or one that I dislike. I adore all of them equally. Granted, some of them, ( Sky, Jinae, Silas, Yonghwa. Sky being the very first muse I've had, so yes, she might be adored the most by me. ) I've had for a very long time from my previous tumblrs, so, perhaps those might be a little higher on the list? Simply because I have had them for the longest time. As well as some of them might be a little more favored by others as well, so they do tend to get more attention than the rest. Which, in turn, creates more inspiration for them essentially. However, it isn't something that I have any issues with, of course. Some muses just click better with each other than others. It's all about finding the right people for them, finding a balance and let it flow from there on out.

There's also those that I haven't been able to use as much as I'd like to? ( Jaehwan, Yoona ) I haven't been able to get them out there and see their potential just yet. But again, that doesn't discourage me or makes me lose interest in them as a muse.

I've had 3 or 4 muses in the past, that I have deleted over a short period of time but that wasn't because I disliked them in any way, shape or form. I loved the idea behind their character and their story but honestly, they just weren't going anywhere and their potential wasn't growing, so that made it a tad more difficult to be creative and get inspiration for them to make them grow as a person. 1 of those muses was also created specifically for another mun, for a plot that we had in mind at the time. So, once that plot was over and done with, the muse didn't really serve any purpose anymore. However, I do still think of them with a sense of fondness once in a while.

With that being said, when I started RP, I always held myself to the rule that I would never have more than 4 muses. Jokes on me, huh. That rule only lasted about half a year before I got more than that. But. I never once regretted it and don't think I ever will. It's all about that diversity, you know? It gives you so much more to work with and create as you go along. Not that you cannot do that with just one muse. There's always endless possibilities, whether it be 1 muse or 10. I had as much fun with it all when I still had only one muse.

I hope this answers your question and settles your curiosity.

And thank you, once again, for letting me delve into the mysterious workings of the mind.

[bigdaddydaemon]

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖐𝖊𝖊𝖕 , 𝕯𝖆𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖓'𝖘 𝖌𝖆𝖟𝖊 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖕 - 𝖘𝖔𝖓'𝖘. he say not a word , only STARES at the young man , arms folded across his chest , wearing a look of DISAPPROVAL upon his face. " i hear CONGRATULATIONS are in order , " the king consort sneers. " a wife of your own choosing ──── how WONDERFUL. "

𝕿𝖔 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖑 𝖙𝖔 𝕭𝖆𝖊𝖑𝖆 . . . it is difficult to comprehend. he had been forced into a marriage in his youth , to a woman he LOATHED ; and rhaenyra , she had been forced to wed a man who could not love her as a husband should , to no fault of his own. he did not want that for either of his girls , nor did he want such a thing for his step - sons. but daemon had been ELATED at the betrothal of rhaenyra's boys to his girls ──── and who would not be ? had daemon had his choice of candidates , he would pick jacaerys and lucerys every time.

𝕭𝖚𝖙 , 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖓 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖊 𝖍𝖆𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖉 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖋𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖘. baela would have been FORCED into a loveless marriage ; forced to deal with a man whose heart belonged to another , as her mother had before her. and though he had loved laena , she had always known that she had not been his first choice. but for his step - son to take matters into his own hands , to wed another without even speaking to either daemon or rhaenyra . . .

𝕳𝖊 𝖎𝖓𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖘 , 𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖊𝖞𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖈𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖌𝖆𝖟𝖊 𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖆𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆. for a moment , he is silent , the waves and the screeching of dragons overhead the only sound. the prince clenches his jaw , a muscle twitches at his temple , and he looks back to the prince of dragonstone. " why didn't you come to me ? "

a plotted starter for @worthyheir

[etherealval]

— tension relief

pairing: matt sturniolo x reader

warning: suggestive content, kissing & massaging (?)

a/n: thank you guys sm for 100 followers !! i literally started writing just because i was bored and didn’t think people would actually read my stuff ?!?! i love all of you <33

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the slight furrow in his brow. it was subtle, but it was there—tension. without thinking too much about it, you shifted a little closer, letting your leg brush against his. "you okay?"

he blinked, turning his head to meet your eyes. "yeah, just a little stiff, i guess. been sitting weird all day." his voice was casual, but there was an underlying strain that told you he was feeling more than a little discomfort.

"do you want me to give a massage?" you asked, your voice soft but teasing, trying to lighten the mood.

his eyes flickered with surprise, and then he let out a low chuckle. "uh, sure, if you’re offering."

"turn around," you instructed, already shifting to kneel behind him on the bed. he hesitated for a moment before moving to sit cross-legged in front of you, his back now facing you. you could feel the anticipation humming between the two of you, the air charged with something unspoken. you placed your hands on his shoulders, gently at first, feeling the tension knotted beneath his skin. his muscles were tight, and you began to slowly work your thumbs into the knots, applying just enough pressure to coax a soft groan out of him. the sound sent a little thrill through you, and you bit your lip, focusing on kneading the tight spots with care.

"that feels… really good," he muttered, his voice slightly hoarse, like the sensation was hitting deeper than he’d expected.

you smiled, encouraged by his reaction. your hands slid lower, down the sides of his neck, your fingers pressing into the curve of his spine. the heat from his skin seeped into your palms, and your touch became slower, more deliberate, each movement lingering just a bit longer than necessary.

your hands drifted lower, brushing against the muscles along his back, tracing the contours of his body in slow, purposeful strokes. you noticed how his breath hitched, how his muscles tightened and relaxed under your touch, and how his entire posture seemed to melt into you. it was more intimate than you'd expected, each press of your fingers drawing out a deeper, softer sound from him. the energy between you had shifted, no longer casual but something heavier, charged.

the movie continued to play in the background, long forgotten. all you could focus on was the steady rise and fall of his breathing and the way your hands danced over his body. the tension you’d first noticed seemed to have transformed into something else, something thicker, more palpable.

you leaned in a little closer, your breath fanning across the back of his neck as your hands slipped lower, brushing over his sides. you could feel him tense beneath your touch, but it wasn’t from discomfort anymore. it was anticipation. your fingers trailed back up, lingering at the nape of his neck, your thumbs tracing slow circles over the sensitive skin there.

he let out a deep sigh, his body finally surrendering to your touch, his head tilting slightly as if he were giving in completely. you couldn’t help but notice how every sound he made, every twitch of his muscles, sent a thrill through you, your pulse quickening as the air between you grew thick with unspoken tension.

“god, that feels amazing,” he murmured, his voice lower, rougher than before. his words sent a ripple of heat through you, and you couldn’t help but smile, feeling a rush of satisfaction at how easily you’d unraveled him.

your hands slid back up to his shoulders, squeezing gently before you leaned in closer, so close now that your chest brushed against his back. your breath was warm against his ear as you spoke, your voice barely a whisper, "want me to keep going?"

he shivered at the sound of your voice, and you felt him nod, unable to form the words. you shifted again, your legs on either side of him now, pulling him back into you slightly as your fingers found the tight muscles in his shoulders once more. this time, though, your movements were slower, more deliberate, your hands tracing the lines of his body with a touch that felt far more intimate than just a massage.

you pressed your thumbs into the tight spots near his neck, feeling the tension melt away underneath your fingers. the room was so quiet, the sound of his breathing and the movie’s faint dialogue the only things breaking the silence. his body leaned into yours, relaxed yet somehow charged with something heavier, more electric.

without thinking, you let your hands slide around to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. he tensed again, but this time it was different, the kind of tension that comes with wanting more.

“turn around,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

matt did as you asked, his movements slow and deliberate as he shifted to face you. his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them, filled with an intensity that made your pulse race. for a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you thick with anticipation. then, without a word, you leaned in and kissed him.

the moment your lips touched his, it was like something snapped between you. the kiss started slow, tentative, but the tension that had been building all evening made it impossible to stay soft for long. his lips moved against yours with increasing urgency, like he’d been holding back and now couldn’t stop himself.

his hands found your waist, fingers gripping tightly as he pulled you closer, your bodies pressed together. the heat of him was overwhelming, his chest rising and falling quickly, breath already ragged as the kiss deepened. your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently as you tilted your head, letting the kiss grow hungrier, more intense.

his tongue slipped past your lips, teasing yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. every brush, every flick of his tongue made your body buzz with heat. you could feel him responding just as intensely, the way his breathing hitched, the way his hands tightened their grip on you, like he couldn’t get enough.

the kiss wasn’t soft anymore—it was desperate, almost possessive, as if every second apart had built up to this moment. your fingers trailed down the back of his neck, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch, and you let your hands slide lower, gripping the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer.

he groaned into your mouth, a low, rumbling sound that made your heart race. his hands moved from your waist, sliding up your back, pressing you even tighter against him until there was no space left between your bodies. the intensity of the moment made everything else fade away—there was no world outside this, just the feel of his lips on yours, the heat of his skin, and the way every touch seemed to ignite a fire deep inside you.

you could feel his heart pounding against your chest, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he broke the kiss for just a second, only to dive back in, more insistent, more demanding. his lips were rough now, urgent, as if he couldn’t stand to be apart from you even for a moment.

your hands slid down to his chest, feeling the muscles tense under your touch, and you pushed him back slightly, just enough to climb into his lap. the movement made him pause for a brief second, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded as he looked at you, breathless, lips swollen from the kiss. the sight of him like that, flushed and wanting, made something inside you twist with need.

you kissed him again, this time slower but no less intense, savoring the way he tasted, the way his hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch he could reach. every touch felt electric, every movement setting off sparks of heat that left you both breathless. when you finally pulled back, your lips still tingling from the intensity, both of you were panting, hearts racing, the air between you thick with everything left unsaid.

"feel better now?" you asked, your voice teasing but breathless, still caught up in the lingering heat between you.

a slow grin spread across his face as he nodded. "yeah.. but i think i might need another one of those massages soon."

taglist - @42angelgirl , @heartsforvin

[chatsukimi]

ᴘᴀɪɴᴛ & ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇ

featuring: needy!gojosatoru, childhoodfriend!gojosatoru. precious. fluff!, minute jealousy synopsis: you put makeup on your childhood best friend. you learn that he is more than you anticipated. masterlist

you think you know everything about gojo satoru. you'd seen him as a child, two years younger than you, get scolded by his parents for sending a senile sorcerer to hospital. you were there when he first activated limitless and pummelled you accidentally in the face.

safe to say, nothing surprises you anymore. not even when he teleports into your room on the night of your date without even a knock and grabs you by the shoulders to turn you and your chair around.

"oi, stop that."

you strangle him off you. he only grins.

"sure thing." he shrugs, before bending down to inspect you more closely. "what have you got on your face?"

you put the bottle of setting spray down. "makeup."

he ruffles his tousled white hair, windblown. "ah? makeup. are you meeting someone?" he grins halfheartedly, scanning your room for any changes since you last met.

"i am."

"it's about time. i've already dated loads of people," he boasts, his eyes lingering on the powder and blush on the table.

you roll your eyes. "of course you have." you lay on the finishing touches to your face. you notice him watching.

rule one about gojo satoru, when he stares, he's interested. as you grew older, it became harder under those pitch black shades of his to detect where he's staring, but when he really wants something, it's obvious.

you lift a brush. "you want me to do makeup on you?"

he shakes his head.

rule two about satoru gojo, he never says what he's thinking.

you stand up, gesturing at the bed. "sit down." without a word, the boy listens to your command, ready to try something new.

you can't say you're unhappy to try doing makeup on him. you had some spare time left and that beautiful canvas of a face is nothing but to die for. putting makeup on him would be fun.

"i'll have to take off your glasses. may i?"

he sniffs.

rule three about gojo, he pretends to hate it when people ask to take his glasses off, but he secretly likes it. you know. it makes him feel seen, more human.

"do it yourself."

you nod.

taking his sunglasses off, you revel in the familiar ocean which faces you.

another two facts about satoru is that he can't keep still and he can't stop yapping. shaking his leg in tandem with the news from his mouth, the movement makes you shoot him a frustrated glare, distracted.

half to shut him up, the other half to make him pay attention, you grip his jaw in place. your eyes lock. soon enough, he'll probably look away to inspect some other object of interest; he's known you for years, after all. nothing new.

as you work, you think to yourself.

gojo... he's really grown up, hasn't he? in careful brushstrokes, you drag the eyeliner gently to form a wing with the tip of the pen. your eyes narrowed in concentration, you haven't noticed the shallow breath which tumbles from his mouth.

"pretty."

you blink.

gojo satoru scoots closer to you, so that his gorgeous azure eyes are inches from yours. they are widened in awe.

in all these years, you can count on one hand the number of times this genius has focused on anything longer than five-ten seconds. sure, going to jujutsu high has stretched that time out slightly, but it's nothing compared to this.

you know what rule one says about his behaviour, but you couldn't believe it.

he reaches up to brush the hair from your face. unblinking, unwavering, as though memorising everything, the outline of your nose to the singular dashes which form an eyelash, he stares at you.

it is the first step from a boy to a man.

"you are... really, really, pretty."

"says you," you say, almost pushing his hands away.

he sinks his fingers against yours, clasping them in a bone-tight grip.

"you are," he asserts. "how come i've never noticed?" he mutters, furious.

um. you turn to look the other way. the heat of his stare is scalding. nevertheless, the strongest refuses to back down.

"i should've noticed, shouldn't i? and now you're all dressed up with your make-up to meet some other guy." he pouts.

truth be told, you are silenced. this is not the gojo you recognise. in a swift move, he carries you from the vanity to the bed. the display of strength startles you.

"don't go," he whines into your shoulder, shifting you with his strong arms to nuzzle himself into your chest. you did so often when you were younger but-

"stay." he pauses, letting each syllable cascade from his beautiful lips like a bell, ringing crystal clear. "stay with me."

stay with him.

you think you know everything about gojo satoru. you remember the way he begged for a break amidst his pre-adolescent training sessions. you remember the empty hallways of the gojo estate and his silent footsteps, how they left him behind to carry the world on his shoulders.

awaiting your answer, gojo feels his heart beating out of his chest. what if you leave? what if you choose your date over him? what if-

"why?"

he stares up at you again. truly shameless.

"because i want you to." he turns stern. "or else, i'll tell your friend that you didn't actually have work that day you decided to ditch her little meet-up and i'll-"

out of nowhere, a laugh breaks out of you. he frowns.

but then, you press a soft kiss on his cheek, another one on the slope of his nose, which -truth be told- didn't need the contour you'd gracefully put on it, and the strongest sorcerer in the world relaxes to your touch.

moments like these, satoru still manages to surprise you.

"i'll stay."

"promise?" he holds up a pinkie.

"come on, satoru, we're not children anymore."

his eyebrows scrunch together so you finally relent.

"ok."

you link your pinkie to his.

"promise."

getting comfortable, you shoot a text at your friend to move the date to another day.

"i knew you'd stay. you can't stand when i throw a tantrum," he suddenly begins to mumble against your skin. your eyes widen. "i know you... better than anyone..." his eyelids are dragging under the weight of sleepiness.

perhaps you didn't know everything about satoru after all.

gojo opens his eyes, seeing you fully. "i know you can't stand me being alone."

perhaps he knew more about you than you had thought possible.

on second thoughts, you grab your phone from your bedside table, typing up a message you send without a second thought.

sorry. something came up. i might not be able to meet with you next week either. thank you for your patience, but i think i've found someone who i want to stick by forever.

[chuluoyi]

drunken angel

- nanami kento x reader

shibuya? what shibuya? nanami's picking me up right now!

genre/warnings: fluff, comfort

note: they did say... delulu is solulu

general masterlist

You giggled uncontrollably as you were seated in the backseat of a cab.

"Kentooo," you gripped his necktie with this ridiculously wide grin on your face. The world was a really happy place for you now, even if it was a little spinning and you felt a bit foggy.

Nanami sighed, resigned. It wasn't typical for you to get drunk, but when you did, you became quite a handful. “Come now.”

You let out a whine, and as he himself took a seat beside you, you wrapped your arm around his waist, nuzzling your face into him.

—and clingy. You became at least thrice clingier than you usually do.

"Love you, mwah!" you slurred with literal hearts in your eyes, batting your lashes at him. Nanami maintained a deadpan expression while looking at you.

Still, he couldn't deny the thumping of his own heart when those words slipped from your sweet lips, thinking how absolutely adorable you were while at it.

He had been scheduled for a mission near Shibuya, anticipating a night of exorcising curses and returning to find you asleep in your shared apartment. But no, something seemed to have irked you tonight as you went and got wasted, and he found it out only after you called him in your drunken stupor, asking to be picked up.

Of course, he would come to get you. Finishing off those measly curses swiftly, he hurried to your location in no time at all.

You looked up at him with watery eyes, frowning at his lack of reply. “Kento, y'know that… right? Riiight?”

"I do," he gruffly replied, mindful of the taxi driver's amused chuckle. "Don't talk too much now. You're drunk."

"But I want to talk, Kento!"

Nanami shot an apologetic glance at the driver through the rearview mirror, and adjusted your position so that you could rest your head more comfortably on his shoulder.

"I love your smile," you sighed against the soft fabric of his suit. "You look most handsome when you do..."

“Hmm?" Nanami watched you, feeling his face getting warmer despite himself. Okay, you were a clingy drunk, but you were sweet.

"And I love... how considerate you are..."

"Mm-hm."

"But... I just wish... you would take care of yourself more."

Your words caught him off guard. "I already do, love."

"You don't," you spat petulantly, your gaze dropping with dejection.

"How so?"

You were no longer bubbly—you looked like you had been awake for three days straight and it finally caught up to you, as you finally succumbed to exhaustion. You had the appearance of a kicked puppy and Nanami swore you were the cutest girl he knew while being drunk.

"You're always rushing headfirst into danger. You'd do anything for kids. Especially that… Itadowi kid!" you pointed out with a deep crease on your forehead, clearly dissatisfied.

It wasn’t the first time. Nanami knew better—he didn’t miss the worry in your eyes as you saw him off, and the evident relief on your face as you hugged him whenever he came back. It was just that you didn’t voice it as much.

“I’m just… worried that…” you mumbled with a pout, totally heartbroken, “one day… you might…”

And the fact that you still felt like that even in your half-conscious state… his heart broke a little inside.

He waited for you to continue with somewhat of a bated breath, when suddenly you leaned back on the seat and pressed your eyes together, wincing, “Ah… my head’s spinnin’”

Nanami’s face flashed with surprise and then understanding as he clasped your hand in reassurance. “Soon. We’ll arrive at our place soon. You’re going to bed then, okay?”

Even when he knew that getting drunk warranted your current state, it still made something inside him churn with concern. Nanami never liked seeing you in any kind of discomfort, no matter how trivial it was.

Upon returning to your place, Nanami took charge. He helped you change into your sleepwear, and gently removed your makeup as best as he could (he confused cleanser with micellar water). Even as your vision swayed and blurred, you recognized the way he lifted you and carried you to the bed, carefully tucking you in to ensure you were settled in as comfortably as possible.

You had this dopey smile on your face as soon as he slipped beside you in his own pajamas, blearily looking at him.

“Kento, you’re…” you whispered, still under the alcohol’s influence and yet sounded so incredibly sincere. “You’re s’good to me…”

Gods, so endearing, Nanami thought to himself. It felt nice to hear you say that, but more than that, you were completely vulnerable, trusting him entirely with your essence, and you were his—his cherished angel.

“Don’t go…” you added, the smile vanished into a sad frown. “Don’t ever leave me…”

"I won't," he replied firmly, cupping your cheeks and pressing his lips on your temple. "I'm not going anywhere, yeah? You have nothing to worry about."

It was never in him to to say much, but when he did, he meant every word of it.

“Mmm, but…”

"Sleep now, love," he muttered, enveloping you in his embrace. He pulled the covers around both of you. Nestled in his sturdy arms, you fit perfectly. His hands rubbed up and down your spine, and you sighed.

“Mmm, wuv you so, so much,” you slurred for the nth time tonight, eyes closing and a step away from going to dreamland.

In that moment, Nanami made a silent vow to do whatever it took to ensure you remained safe and happy like this always.

You were the reason—the only person for whom he would set the world ablaze, even at his own expense.

Ah, but he wouldn’t let that happen now, would he? How was he supposed to put a ring on your finger if he was gone?

“I love you too… my dearest.”

. . .

and you thought then, that you just had the most beautiful dream—one where you were right where he was.

[that-student-that-has-homework]

Louder than Words - Portgas D. Ace

Portgas D. Ace x Reader

This is like the mushiest piece I have written. I was kinda embarrassed...but here it is. Let's give him the hugs and space he needed huh? This could also be a message to you lovelies out there too. MasterList linked at the bottom too!

Ace didn’t know what came over you, but whatever it was, he wasn’t complaining. Per se. 

You’d cupped his face gently, rubbing your thumbs along his cheeks tenderly, while he just looked back at you, curious. He smiled, in hopes of easing or appeasing whatever drudge was swirling in his chest and tainting this moment, “everything alright?”

You hummed and nodded at him, not a line on your expression but the bliss that pulled at your lips, revealing your peaceful serenity to him. His breath hitched slightly as you pressed your lips to his forehead, lingering for a moment. Then a shorter peck to his nose, before nuddling it back and forth with your own. He reopened his eyes when you tilted his head, still cradled in your palms, and pressed kisses to either of his cheeks.

You pulled away enough to look him in the eyes, and he felt his heart chase after you, beating with a tenacity meant to jump ship from his chest to yours. Your eyes dropped to the last target on his face, and he felt his entire physiology twist in anticipation.

You guided his face to yours gently, holding him as though he was the most prized treasure of all the seas. If he ever said that aloud, you would agree. 

Your own personal One Piece. 

You guided him, and he followed eagerly, gravitating towards you naturally, and you met him somewhere in the middle, colliding in an explosion of euphoria, igniting the wiring of his entire being.

His every sense sharpened, yet by attuning himself to your every move he melded into you. He-his edges-seemed to all but disappear as he chased after you unwilling to disconnect for a moment longer than necessary. Your pull, irresistible-inevitable as he continued to dive deeper into it.

Deeper and deeper. 

Closer and closer. 

Chest to chest. 

Heart to heart.

Until you gently guided him away, again cradling his face and rubbing sweet, sweet, tender circles into his skin, massaging your warmth into him. Your eyes again held his, and gosh you’re just so beautiful. He’s pulled out of his daze when he felt your chest struggling under his. You’re panting slightly, your breathing a little strained, and he realized that his weight on you definitely isn’t helping. 

He lifted himself up just slightly-unwilling to completely part but-no longer crushing you. He couldn’t help but wonder: when had he ended up on top of you like this?

You’re gently moving his head about in your palms again, pressing another kiss to his forehead. Then another to the crown of his head and for a moment he’s so glad he showered and washed his hair yesterday.

“I’m so thankful to have you in my life,” you breathed into his skin, lips inscribing the words into his forehead, and tugging on his heart strings.

Again his head is guided by your hands and again his eyes are treated to the sight of yours. Like a rope with a knot catching onto a splinter of wood, the air caught inside his chest. Your own eyes trailed over his features, slowly, carefully, as though committing every part of him, every detail, to memory. You studied him with a sort of reverence, your awe manifesting in a choked gasp and subtle widening of the eyes.

Your hands slowly slipped from his face, and he found himself missing your touch immediately. Thankfully, he didn’t have to part with it for long. 

“I am so grateful,” your fingers ghosted along his cheek moving to his lips, “that you exist,” your words tugged at that stuck knot.

“That you were born,” a warmth spread through his chest - yet he couldn’t breathe. 

“That you exist in this world - and that I,” your expression became impossibly soft, “that I get to know you.” 

He opened his mouth desperate to return the sentiment, but you continued gently tracing his lips as you did, “that you’re allowing me to love you like this.”

He couldn’t-

You let out a little squeak at the speed and force with which he sat the two of you up and held you. His fingers interwoven with your hair, his nose buried in your neck, his other hand pressing you into him, melding you into his body. Soon enough, even his legs came to wrap around your own, completely preventing any chance of escape.

Though to be honest, you escape to him, not from him. 

Oh the things you did to him. 

He might be made of fire, but his devil fruit couldn’t protect him from the way your affections effectively set fire to his very brain-his heart. His chest heaved, pressing against yours, his eyes water and his grip tightened. Tremors overtook him as he fought the urge to crush you completely into his body. 

How could joy resemble a knife tearing through his chest? How could the tearing pain feel so delightful? The contradictions were enough to make his head spin and his thoughts knot up.

A gentle hand - your gentle hand slowly worked its way through his hair, patiently undoing any tangles your fingers came about, consequently undoing the intricate knotting of the net entangling his mind. The delicate trails your fingertips drew along his scalp soothed his thoughts such that each raging beastly emotion was conquered in turn. It wasn’t too long before he’d vanquished the confusion, your tender care steering him to clarity.

You were steering him towards dreamland too if he’s honest, as his consciousness began to ebb under the rhythmic flow of your fingers through the waves of his hair. It wasn’t long before it plunged completely into the ocean of unconsciousness. 

// ——

When he regained consciousness you were seated beside him, reading something or another. You were really engrossed in whatever it was you were reading, so much so that you startled a little when his hand lethargically claimed your own, pulling it closer to him.

He brushed his lips on the back of it, grinning up at you with eyes that drooped with the sleep still in them. He delighted in the flustered expression you wore in response to his own affections, blinking at you slowly. You marked your page with your free hand, before closing the book to give him your undivided attention.

“How was your nap, love?” Love you called him. Love.

His eyelids closed, succumbing to the weight they seemed to carry, basking in the bliss washing over him like a gentle summer shower. 

Love. 

He could hear you moving about, his hold on your hand tightening as you shifted. A little groan left him as he struggled to open his eyes and mouth to speak to you. You were not helping with how your other hand came to comb his hair again, but he managed, “mmm you’re…gon’ make me fall ‘sleep ‘gain.”

“Then that means you need more sleep m’love,” m’love, not just any love, your love. Yours. 

He was your love. 

Yours.

He was yours. Happily so. Forever would be too. If you’d have him. 

He hummed, lips weakly pushing through sleep to show you his satisfaction. 

Your voice was much closer to him now, speaking from right above his head, and he fought an uphill battle trying to open his eyes to look at you. His whole body felt heavy, completely sapped of strength. Heck even his grip on your hand was as limp as ever. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was in contact with sea stone or something. 

He felt you press your lips to his forehead again, gently fueling him enough to pull his lips into a drowsy, wobbly, smile. 

“Get some rest love,” you spoke softly, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Stay wit mmmmm,” talking was proving to be a challenge, “c’mere.”

He threw a heavy arm over what he hoped was your waist. It probably was? Gosh he couldn’t care with the way you were giggling next to him. 

“Sure thing love,” you had to be doing some kind of magic with how he felt like he was levitating despite the weight that seeped into his bones, “just let me brush my teeth first.”

He couldn’t hold you down if he wanted to with how tired he was, “mmm back soo,” he mumbled.

“Sure thing,” his lips wobbled themselves into a smile as you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead again. 

He was out instantaneously. You kept your promise though; through his daze he felt you slip in and embrace him. Seems like his body knew what to do too, despite its earlier lack of cooperation, and he wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you in return before he was out again.

He woke up in your arms. 

His head rested against your chest, with your arm languidly around his shoulders. Taking in a deep breath filled him with the nostalgia of the scent of home. A home that did not exist in his memories. Which meant it probably existed in his imagination then. A home that could be. A home with you.

It was the scent of home nonetheless. 

He tightened his hold on your waist nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

I’m so grateful you exist.

His arms instinctively tightened.

That you were born. 

His inhale was a stuttery one, his own lips and vision stuttering as well. He buried his face further into your neck, taking in your scent again. Yet all that did was push the tears out faster. 

That was the opposite of what he’d expected! 

Urgh. One of those hot, salty blobs ended up on your skin.

To his relief, and dismay - oddly enough - you remained unconscious. Your eyes closed and breathing consistent. Though that didn’t last long, as you shifted slightly, the arm around his shoulder worked to pull him into you, as your other one came up to play with his hair-you really liked doing that huh?

“Get it aaall,” your voice was thick with sleep, “get it all…out,” you hummed a bit, “let all that poison out.”

“Darlin’, did I wake you?” It was pathetic how his voice cracked - he hated this weakness that was welling up...again.

Just like that, your hold on him tightened, your lips pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his head. 

“I’d be upset if you didn’t,” you sounded much more awake now, “you’re one of the people I want to be there for the most.”

Unfortunately, a choked sob left him. Gosh he was so pathetic. He was a full grown man! He wasn’t supposed to be some weak crybaby! To think he used to get mad at Luffy for crying too!

Yet…

He. couldn’t. stop.

His shoulders shook, the tremors traveled his body, and a violent shiver wracked it. Yet you laid and held him and ran your fingers through his hair, kissing your favorite spot on his forehead consistently. Every kiss, every gentle brush of your loving fingers tenderly working through his hair, every tender trace of your fingertips on his scalp, brought a fresh wave of tears to follow the next. At some point he’d started clutching on to you, like you were the life-ring preventing him from drowning.

He wasn’t sure how long you two stayed like that. All he knew that in between his sniffles and his sobbing there was your voice. 

“Get it all out love,” you lightly encouraged - as though he wasn’t lesser for crying like a baby. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you said a few times too - as though this pathetic display wasn’t shameful.

“I love you so much,” you reaffirmed time and time again stroking his hair - as though his weakness didn’t make him less desirable.

For whatever reason he didn’t doubt a word. Despite the mental cesspool working overtime to drown him in darkness, the light of your honesty shone through. No matter how far he fell, it followed.

He wasn’t sure how long you two lay there, holding each other, and he wasn’t sure when he’d lost consciousness again. His eyes were so incredibly heavy when he woke up again though. They must be swollen from all his crying. You weren’t next to him this time, however as his senses came back to him, he could hear the sounds of a pen scratching and paper flipping.

When he sat up, he noticed a pitcher of water and a tall glass with an opaque yellow-tinted liquid and some mint leaves in it-lemonade probably-on the bedside table. He had a moment to locate you at his desk before you turned to face him, “hey there.”

“Hey,” he croaked, voice still thick from lack of use.

You put the pen down, got up, and walked towards him with a kind smile, “I made you some lemonade, and got some water,” you sat down near his legs, “gotta replace all those fluids you lost.”

That got a chuckle out of him, “your lessons with Marco are going well, huh?”

“I also have a lot of personal experience with these things,” you grinned at him.

“With crying like a baby?” 

You just hummed and nodded.

“This might sound bad,” you weren’t looking at him as you confessed, “but I’m kind of…” you trailed off, shooting him a quick glance, “happy,” you shrunk, your shoulders reaching your ears, “you felt safe enough to be that vulnerable with me.”

“So, you liked seeing me cry?” He poked at you. “Should I cry more for you, doll?”

“Ace,” you groaned, your smile only growing fonder as you looked at him.

“Didn’t peg you for a sadist,” he kept teasing, “I’m not sure how I feel about this kink of yours.”

He loved the way you rolled your eyes, but revealed your teeth with how big your smile was getting. “I don’t like seeing you cry,” you corrected, “I like that you feel safe with me.”

You paused, then appended, “well safe enough to not hide your pain.”

“Hide my pain?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Crying is one way to get pain out of your body,” you twisted your body to face him more fully, voice soft as you shared your opinion, “emotional pain especially.”

“Isn’t crying just weakness?” He frowned at you. 

“No?”

“It’s not?” 

“Do you think I’m weak when I cry?”

“No.”

“Then?”

“But you’re a woman.”

A tired look flashed over your features momentarily, “so men aren’t allowed to cry?” You challenged, tone still as patient as ever.

“Only weak men cry,” for some reason the words sounded less convincing in your presence.

“Who says?” His gaze snapped up to meet yours and you repeated yourself, “who said?”

“Isn’t it just something that everyone knows?” His brow furrowed, scowl taking his features. 

“No,” you paused as you said that, “well I guess in a sense,” you squinted at nothing, “yes… it is something that many people assume.”

“You just saw me cry like a baby,” he countered, “you don’t think I’m weak?”

“On the contrary,” he felt his eyes widen despite the weight embedded into them, “you’ve been carrying all that pain.” 

An ache tormented your gentle expression, “and you choose kindness and warmth and bring joy to those you care about despite it,” you looked him in the eye again, “that isn’t something a weak person could do.”

A shiver traveled down his spine at the way your eyes studied him, softening as you opened your mouth to speak again, “kindness is the mark of the strong, Ace,” you placed your hand on top of his notably larger one, pride dripping from your voice, “and you’re so incredibly kind.”

What was with you and stealing the air from his lungs? He felt his chest constrict like he’d been punched too.

“We’re so lucky to have you in our lives,” your thumb traced circles onto the back of his hand, “we’re even luckier to be loved by you.”

He could feel that prickling in the back of his eyes he was becoming way too familiar with for his liking. “We really have to do something about that crying kink of yours,” he joked.

You scoffed, shaking your head, but you weren’t mad. “I think I’m just going to have to tell you more often how lucky I am to have you in my life.”

His heart lurched in his chest, “I think I’m the lucky one.”

“We can both be lucky.”

“Then I’m luckier.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yea huh.”

“Agree to disagree?”

“No,” he has a huge grin on his face at your scowl. 

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, rising from the bed with a dramatic sigh, “I’ll let you believe whatever you want to believe.”

“Oi!” He couldn’t help the chuckle that left him.

“Drink some water and your lemonade, love,” you gave him a little peck on his forehead again, “then let’s get you showered and fed.”

He caught your wrist as you moved away, “where are you going?”

“To the desk,” you blinked at him.

“What’re you up to there?”

“I’m just going through some paperwork,” he really was the luckier one of the two of you.

“Marry me,” the words flew out of his mouth before his mind could even register them in his thoughts.

You laughed, raising your left hand for him to view, “already did.”

Shoot.

“Now,” mirth still colored your expression, “you drink your lemonade while I get these papers done.”

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted you and allowed you to slip out of his grasp.

It was when he’d finally moved to lean back against the wall and grabbed the drink you’d prepared that he heard you giggle a little. Strange, given what you were working on, “see something funny?”

“No,” you singsonged, cheerfully wiggling in your seat, “it’s just my husband asked me to marry him, again, and I’m feeling very happy.”

His head clunked against the wall he rested against, heat rushing to his cheeks as a disgruntled groan left him, despite the way he was grinning, “I swear I didn’t forget.”

“I didn’t think you did, love,” you giggle some more, turning slightly to look at him, “I’m just so happy you would want to marry me, again.”

“I’d marry you again every day if I could,” he took a swig of his lemonade enjoying the way you fought and failed to keep your smile contained as it threatened to split what he could see of your face.

You turned back around and he could see that you were fighting to focus on the papers in front of you. 

“How about we have another wedding on the Moby Dick?” He found himself scooching his way down the bed, his excitement uncontained. “We can get you a proper dress this time! Your own!”

He looked up thinking some more, “and I’ll wear a proper suit with a vest and a tie and everything!”

“I’m surprised you know about vests and ties,” you shot him a teasing grin.

“Hey! I took some etiquette classes as a kid!” 

“You did?”

“I didn’t tell you?” He’d have to tell you more about his life before he set sail then. “Yeah back when I was in the East Blue,” it’s been a while since he left huh? “Makino-a barmaid from the village nearby-taught me manners.”

“So she’s the one that taught you about vests and ties?”

“Yeah,” oh wait a second, “we can have Thatch make us a huge cake and a feast!” Now that he was back on the original topic he had so many ideas! “Pops can officiate! Marco can be the one to bring you down the aisle! And-and-”

“You really want to have another wedding then?” You were now turned to face him completely.

“Yeah! How about it?” He scooched even closer to you. “Our first one was nice too, but we were in a hurry and I remember we had to go with whatever we had.”

“Is it bad that I liked our small, humble wedding?”

“Huh? No of course not! It was great!” Where did that come from? “I’m just saying we can have another so I can ‘marry you again.’”

“Hmm the idea of seeing you all dressed up in a three piece suit is tempting,” you hummed.

He guffawed a bit at that. “I’d probably mistake you for an angel if I saw you in a white dress.”

“Aww you wouldn’t recognize me?”

“Nah because,” he smirked, “I’d be blinded by how beautiful you’d look.”

When you hunched your shoulders to your ears and looked away a bit, his chest swirled with pride. He was getting better at this flirting with you thing!

“Maybe we shouldn’t then,” sounds of protest were leaving him before he knew it, “I don’t want to blind you.”

That had the two of you laughing.

When you calmed down, you turned back towards the work waiting for you, “there isn’t much left to do commander, so stop distracting me.”

Your distraction quickly chugged the rest of that refreshing glass of juice, and moved back to pour himself a glass of water. Something seemed to click within his head as he pondered your order: “I’m distracting now, am I?”

“Very.”

He burst out laughing. “Well we’re even then,” he proceeded to take a loud slurp of water.

He almost choked on it laughing when he saw you startle a bit, his flirt landing well with you again. 

Cradling his glass, he opted to just watch you work. He’d make your second wedding happen. You deserved to be celebrated again and again. Besides, it’s not like pirates didn’t party regularly. So it’s not like they’d be going out of their way really-if that’s what you were worried about. Well, knowing you, that was something you were worried about. He found an amused little huff leaving him at that thought. 

“See something funny, love?” Seems you’d heard him.

“Nope,” he grinned your way, “just thinking.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“Hey!”

“You come up with some pretty crazy schemes,” he noticed the little smirk on your lips - oh you cheeky - “they’re usually fun, even if they’re dangerous.”

“Like you’re one to talk!” He grinned. “You always add on more crazy things!”

“My crazy things are to make your crazy things less dangerous,” you hummed, “I very much prefer you alive, well, and healthy you see.”

“You just like me,” he beamed at you with a laugh.

“I love you, actually,” you responded without missing a beat nor looking up from your paperwork.

Yeah.

He was definitely giving you that second wedding here on the Moby Dick. Maybe even at one of the prettier spring or autumn islands on Pops’ turf. Whatever you’d like the most! Heck he’ll give you two second weddings - er - a second and a third. Wedding. Yeah.

Oh!

Maybe he could even surprise you with it! 

He ought to get started on it - today! Right now!

He threw back the rest of his glass of water and rushed to the door.

“Ah! Ace! Wait a second!” He paused right before opening it up. “I’m just about done with this! Let me finish and I can help you with your hair and back!”

“Huh?” He raised a brow at you.

“Huh?” You returned equally confused. “Weren’t you going to shower to feel better?”

“No?” He tilted his head.

“Then you’re going straight for the kitchen?” You continued, still confused. “Didn’t you want to eat together?”

Oh that was tempting. He couldn’t say no to that. Wait, even the shower help was tempting. You’d been the one to teach him how to properly scrub his scalp after all. But he didn’t want to delay his surprise a second longer!

“Then, I’m gonna get some fresh air,” not really a lie, he’d get fresh air on his way to see Marco, “then we can eat together.”

“So no shower?”

“Wouldn’t we get caught?”

“What do you mean? I’m just washi-Ace!” You let out a garbled sound making him laugh.

“Alright, alright darlin’,” he gave you a lopsided grin, “I’m just teasing. Yeah we’ll do both.”

“Okay,” you seemed pleased with that outcome, despite it being more work for you.

He let go of the door handle to come press a kiss to your forehead, “love you.”

“Love you too,” you returned immediately.

He walked out the door feeling lighter than he had in a while.

Yeah he was definitely giving you the grandest wedding he could, and he was a Whitebeard pirate, and they really knew how to party.

Extra:

Later during an “Official Division Commander Meeting”:

Izou: she must be the one to pick out her dress

Ace: then I’ll take her out to get one picked

Izou: absolutely not! I will

Ace: hey she’s my wife

Izou: exactly! You’re not allowed to see her in the dress until the ceremony you fool!

Marco: (placing a comforting hand on Ace’s shoulder) well, there’s no one better for this task than Izou yoi

Izou: hmph! but of course

Thatch: you all have the easy part, I have to make all the food, and the cake

Ace: it’ll be worth it!

Thatch: for you maybe, you’re not the one cooking to feed a fleet. I swear I have the most difficult job

Marco: we have feasts all the time, no need to do anything extra yoi. 

Ace: except the cake! The cake is really important!

Thatch: yeah yeah I heard you. groans

Marco: Besides your division has a bunch of cooks to help you out doesn’t it?

//------------------------

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[munsonsmixtapes]

I Can Help With That

rockstar!Eddie x bestie!fem!virgin!reader

summary: Eddie catches you reading fanfiction about him and decides to let your experience the real thing

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) fingering, oral (f receiving)

not proofread!

It wasn’t a secret that you had a huge crush on your best friend Eddie. You had been in love with him since you were kids and everyone knew. Well, everyone except Eddie, but he wasn’t exactly the most observant so you couldn’t blame him.

And you didn’t want him to know anyway. That was something you were going totally take to your grave. The whole thing was just so embarrassing for you and he definitely wasn’t the commitment kind of guy anyway. He usually just fucked women and let them leave, not wanting any attachment to them.

You supposed you couldn’t blame him since he was always traveling and didn’t have time for a relationship. And hey, the guy was only human. What was he supposed to do? Be surrounded by a bunch of beautiful women and not sleep with them when they offered?

You honestly weren’t sure how you came across it. You were just browsing the internet, looking to read about someone else when his name popped up. You were curious to say the least. You had no idea that people even wrote about Eddie in that way and thought it was hilarious, so obviously, you had to read it.

Then it got to the point where you were reading it every day, trying to find the best one to show him. What started out as a joke actually became not as much when you were actually enjoying what you were reading. You started imagining what it would have been like to actually be with him and it was getting out of hand.

You sat at your computer, another fanfiction pulled up and this one was different from the others. It wasn’t no longer soft and sweet. It was dirty. It was sexual with everything described on the page. You had read that kind of stuff before, but not about Eddie. Not about your best friend.

You were really getting into when you heard the door to your room open. You quickly minimized the page and turned to Eddie who looked almost unreal like always. With his leather jacket over his white t-shirt which was tucked into a pair of very ripped jeans that gave you a perfect view of his perfect thighs that you desperately wanted to get your hands on.

“What were you doing?” He asked, suspicious and you just put on a smile, trying to play it off.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, but Eddie just made a beeline for you. He spun your chair around and moved his hand to the mouse but you got there quicker, closing out the page completely.

“Oh, you silly girl,” he laughed. “You seemed to have forgotten that I can see your browser history.” He reached for the mouse and you grabbed it, holding it out of his reach as you rolled your chair away, the back of it eventually hitting the wall.

Eddie stepped over to you, resting his hands on the arm rests as he leaned so close to you that you could smell his breath. He looked like he was leaning in and you closed your eyes in anticipation only to open them and find Eddie at the computer, opening the last tab you had opened. You rolled your chair over, accepting defeat as you covered your face in embarrassment.

Eddie was a little shocked when he opened the page, but honestly wasn’t surprised. You read smut all the time. But wait a minute, was that his name? There it was again! You were reading smut about him? Since when?

“Why are you reading fanfiction about me?” The question wasn’t accusatory, more curious than anything.

“I was going to read about someone else, but then I saw your name and got curious. And then I was so determined to find one to read to you, but none of them seemed good enough.” Eddie knew he should’ve been weirded out, but he honestly just thought it was funny.

“So you’ve read these before?” He turned his face back towards the screen to read a little more.

“Yes,” you nodded. “But none like this, though.”

“Right,” he winked. “Of course not. But you like these though, huh?”

“I mean, I don’t know.” You did. Maybe a little too much.

“Do they get you hot?” His question caught you off guard, making you blush.

“What?”

“I bet they make you wet, huh?” How did he know that? It was as if he was psychic.

“Well-”

“Relax, babe. I’m just kidding.” You let out a sigh of relief. You’d die of embarrassment if he had actually been asking you that.

“Oh.”

“Unless they do actually make you wet.” You were so embarrassed that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“Um, maybe a little.” He just chuckled and leaned forward so his lips were right by your ear.

“Sweetheart, if you wanted to do this kind of stuff with me, all you had to do was ask.” His tone was teasing, but there was a hint of truth to his words.

“Really?” You didn’t quite believe him.

“Sure. Why read it when you have the real thing right here?”

“Eddie, this isn’t funny. If you’re going to make fun of me, I’d rather you just leave.”

“I’m not making fun of you. I’d love to give you the real thing if you’d let me.” He was being serious. He was actually offering to have sex with you and actually seemed enthusiastic about it. Was this all just some very real dream you had entered?

“You would?”

“If you want to.”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head. “I’ve just-I’ve never done anything before,” you reminded him and he just nodded.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to.” He stood up, but you grabbed his hand, preventing him from leaving.

“Please fuck me!” Your words came out much more needy than you intended and Eddie just looked at you with wide eyes before a smile broke out on his face.

“As long as you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” you nodded.

“And you can back out at any point.”

“I know.” He bent over the chair, his hands gripping the arm rests again. His face was so close to yours that you could make out every single detail. God, he was beautiful.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered and you nodded.

“Yes,” you responded, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Eddie reached up and pulled your lip from your teeth with his thumb and let it settle back into place before, leaning in, pressing a featherlight peck to your lips before pulling away.

“What was that?”

“Relax,” he laughed. “I’m just warming you up.” He leaned in again and pressed another peck to your lips. Another. Another until he slotted his lips between yours, capturing them in the softest, sweetest kiss.

Assuming that he was uncomfortable leaning over like that, you stood up from the chair and wrapped your arms around his neck before going in for another kiss. It was like none you had ever experienced before. It was like he put full thought into each one, trying to figure out what you liked and what you didn’t.

His arms wrapped around your waist as his tongue licked along the seam of your lips. You opened up and he slid his tongue inside, letting it swirl around yours. It felt so good and you were surprised that you were already aroused when he hadn’t even done anything.

A sound that was foreign to you escaped your mouth and you pulled away, bringing your hand up to your lips to cover them in embarrassment. Eddie just laughed and pulled your hand away.

“There’s not need to be embarrassed, sweetheart,” he assured you. “Make as much noise as you want. In fact, I’d prefer it.” When you still looked unsure, he continued. “I’m serious,” he pecked your lips once more. “Be as loud as you want. There’s no such thing as being too loud.”

“So, you want me to make the noise again?”

“I’d actually prefer it.” With that, Eddie’s lips were on yours again and he took no time to stick his tongue into your mouth, swirling it around yours. You didn’t hold back that time, letting the moan fully escape your lips and felt Eddie’s boner against you as he pulled you closer.

His hands traveled down your back and slowly moved up your hoodie as he tested the waters to see if it was okay. Once you didn’t say anything, his hands moved up even more to your bra that he realized wasn’t there. The idea of you not wearing one made him even more hard and he decided that he needed to see your tits for himself.

He slowly lifted the bottom of your hoodie and you lifted your arms up so he had so trouble removing it. He let out a gasp as your hoodie hit the floor as he took in your naked upper half. He had really been missing out. God, you were so fucking perfect.

“Christ. You’ve been hiding these from me all this time?” He reached up to touch them, taking them in his hands before giving them a squeeze.

“Well, it’s not exactly normal to show your best friend your tits, is it?”

“And yet, here we are,” he smirked.

“Eddie, our friendship has never been normal.”

“That’s true. But seriously, you’re so fucking hot.”

“I know,” you nodded and it made him even more hard knowing that you were so confident in yourself. Soon, his lips were back on yours again, this time more rough as he took what he wanted from you.

His thumbs moved your nipples in a circular motion and you let out a moan at the foreign feeling.

“Feels so good, Eds,” you told him and he continued, wanting to hear more of those pretty sounds fall from your lips. His lips moved to your neck as he slowly laid you down on the bed, removing his jacket and shirt as he did so.

He attached his lips to yours once again, this kiss slow and sloven, as if he had all the time in the world, and you supposed he did. He brought your bottom lip between his and gave it a little suck, causing you to let out a whimper and you to get even more wet. Once he realized you liked it, he did it again, harder that time before taking it between his teeth and biting down gently.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “More.” He bit down even harder and you let out your loudest moan. As he bit and sucked your lip, his hand traveled down to your sweatpants. He slowly stuck his hand down the front of them, on the hunt for your pussy.

Once he found it, Eddie’s fingers lightly grazed it, warming you up for the main event. He slowly stuck two fingers inside of you and your back arched in pleasure, your eyes closing tight.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you, the only sounds that could be heard were your moans and the squelching of your slick as he moved his fingers in and out of your cunt. You were already experiencing more pleasure than you ever had and he hadn’t even fucked you yet.

“You like that, hon?” He asked as he pumped a little faster.

“So good, don’t stop.” He hooked his finger and found just the right spot, causing your legs to stretch out at the pleasure.

“Oh my god, Eddie, I think I’m gonna-”

Just as you said the words, you reached your first climax, screaming his name as you did so. Eddie removed his fingers from you and you sat up just in time to watch him slowly lick your slick from his fingers.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Taste so good, sweetheart.”

“You can have another,” you told him, your confidence building.

“You let me finger you and now you’re going to let me eat you out? Well, sugar. It must just be my lucky day.” Eddie lowered himself onto his knees on the floor at the edge of the bed and grabbed you by the ankles, pulling you with him.

With your permission, he pulled down your pants and let out a dramatic gasp at the wet patch on your underwear. He then removed those as well and spread your legs, licking his lips at the sight of your sopping wet cunt.

“You did all of this for me?” He gasped. “Sugar, you shouldn’t have.” He draped a leg over each shoulder and pressed open mouthed kisses to your thighs, not wanting them to feel left out before he inhaled your scent, desperate for a taste. “You look good enough to eat and I’m starving.”

Eddie let his nose brush your cunt as he dove in and you let out a gasp, gripping the comforter underneath you as you got used to the foreign feeling. He then slowly licked a stripe from your slit to your clit, eliciting a whine from you.

“Oh, my god,” you moaned and Eddie pulled away for a second, just so he could speak to you.

“Taste so fucking good, sweetheart,” he groaned his voice all raspy, making you even more wet. “Swear I could do this all day.” He went in for more and licked and sucked as your back arched in pleasure, his fingers digging into your thighs as he lapped up every single bit of your slick.

His teeth grazed just the right spot and you swore that your vision went hazy at the pure euphoria you were experiencing. Was it always like that or was Eddie just that good? You were pretty sure it was the latter.

Your thighs pressed against his head as Eddie stuck his tongue fully inside you and your hands moved to his hair as you reached yet another orgasm, but he wasn’t done just yet.

His tongue swirled around your cunt and you yanked on his hair in reaction to the feeling. You hadn’t experienced anything like it and were sure that you definitely wanted him to do it again. It was too good to just pretend like it didn’t happen.

“Fuck,” you whined. “Right there.” He hit just the right spot to make a mewl fall from your lips and you fell back onto the mattress as you came down from your climax. Eddie gave your cunt one last lick before pulling his face away, the entire thing soaked in your slick, but he didn’t care. He’d be happy to lick it all up just to get another taste of you.

“God, could eat you for hours, baby. You taste heavenly.”

“Need your cock,” you said through labored breaths and Eddie was surprised. He thought you’d need a little break before you were ready.

“Baby, we just-”

“Eddie,” you said through grit teeth. “I need you now.”

“Alright, alright,” he pulled a condom from his wallet and quickly removed his jeans and underwear before rolling the thing onto his cock. He then lined himself up with your cunt and slowly inserted himself, both of you letting out moans at the sensation.

Eddie slowly thrusted into you since it was your first time and as good as it felt, you needed more. He wasn’t moving fast or harder enough.

“Harder,” you told him and he kept going slow, unsure of that was the right move for you. He didn’t want to hurt you, especially not on your first time.

“Are you sure?”

“Very fucking sure. Fuck me hard.” With that, Eddie pounded into you and you mewled in reaction.

“Oh,” you moaned. “Oh my god-fuck.”

“That’s it, honey,” Eddie responded. “Look at you, taking me so well. Look like a fucking princess underneath me.”

He continued to pound into you and the moans that left your mouth were enough to make him the hardest he had ever been. None of the other women he had fucked had been nearly as responsive to his moves as you had. You ate up every single thing and he loved that about you. That you took whatever he gave you and was nothing but grateful for it.

“Fuck, feel so good, princess,” he moaned, grabbing the onto your legs and wrapping them around his waist so he had more access to your pussy.

He thrusted and thrusted, eventually moving the fastest and hardest he could and that seemed to satisfy you. In return, Eddie was eating up all of your reactions, loving to hear your moans, desperate to have a recording of them because of how lovely they sounded.

Once you both reached your climaxes, Eddie pulled out of you and made you go pee while he disposed of the condom. He then joined you in the bathroom and the two of you got into the bed, not even bothering to put your clothes back on.

Eddie laid next to you and pulled you to him, bare skin to bare skin and pushed some your baby hairs off of your sweaty forehead. He then pressed a kiss to it and moved all the way down until he got to your lips, pulling you in for a sweet kiss.

He then pressed his forehead to yours, his brown eyes boring into yours. His hand moved leisurely up and down your arm and he licked his lips before he spoke.

“What if I told you that I wanted to do that more often?”

“I’d totally let you.” If it was anything like you had just experienced, you’d let do it anytime he wanted.

“Well, what if I told you that I wanted you to be the only person that I slept with?”

“Like a friends with benefits kind of thing?” What ever he was suggesting, you were down for.

“No, more like a boyfriend-girlfriend kind of thing.”

“I’d love that.” You rolled on top of Eddie and peppered his face in kisses while he let out numerous giggles. You then pulled him in for a kiss that left him breathless to solidify your relationship status. The first of many that night and for the rest of your lives.

[kaisacobra]

I See You - Tara Carpenter

Part 2 of I Dare You

Summary: At one of Amber's infamous parties, Tara's feelings get more and more complicated as she starts getting to know you.

Warnings: Fem!Painter!Reader, slow burn, mentions of sex, alcohol and partying, minor angst, non canon/high school

w.c: 6.9k

So, the glitch in the matrix seemed to be lasting much longer than you anticipated.

You did your best to forget the interaction you'd had with Tara and, honestly, that hadn't been such a difficult task. You still had a life, after all, and the rest of your day was divided into making preparations for the volunteering you'd be doing at the hospital during the weekend, studying and trying to make any progress on your painting.

Unfortunately, the last task proved itself to be annoyingly impossible, no matter how hard you tried. You'd tried everything from throwing random brushstrokes at the canvas to staring at the blank space while upside down in your bed, which filled your brain with blood but not with ideas.

There came a point when you had to admit defeat, at least for a day, and you picked up your phone to try to distract yourself from what seemed to be your greatest artistic failure. Your plans were to doomscroll through all possible social media and try to get the slightest bit of inspiration, but your attention was grabbed by a text notification coming from your Instagram.

From the username, it was clear that the text had been from none other than Tara Carpenter, which made your heart race a little in response. Your profile was a bit hard to find because there were no photos of you, which meant that Tara specifically had to look for you for a while. What's more, your profile was basically an exhibition of your artwork and the idea of someone other than your friends and teacher looking at all your projects made you a little anxious.

The texts themselves contained nothing much, apart from Tara apologizing for taking your pen (which you didn't even remember lending, to be honest) and then trying to strike up a conversation by asking you about Freddy vs Leatherface. Even so, noticing that she'd made an effort to keep on talking to you left you swooning.

You answered, of course. It would be rude to leave someone on read, wouldn't it? And besides, you were already planning to procrastinate anyway, so why not be nice and talk to Tara for a few minutes?

Who cares if minutes became hours, right?

And when school started the next day, you felt lighter, somehow. To your relief, no one seemed to remember your disastrous stumble the day before (probably because few people remembered you in general) and so you didn't have to deal with any giggles or weird looks.

You were in the middle of getting some books out of your locker when a familiar pen levitated into your field of vision. Your gaze followed the tanned arm that was holding it and you were met with long eyelashes and a sly smile.

“I'm a woman of my word! Here's your pen.” Tara raised the object towards you, making a funny reference to the text she had sent you the day before.

You rolled your eyes in amusement, although you couldn't hold the expression for long due to the corners of your lips lifting involuntarily. You took the small item from her hand and quickly put it in your bag. “Thanks, it's good to know you're not a thief. Did you at least bring one pen today?”

She understood the light, false accusatory tone in your voice and raised her hand, showing two fingers raised in a V. “Haha. Just so you know, I brought two today.”

It was amazing how instantaneous and right that conversation felt, almost as if it was the kind of thing you did all the time and not for the first time. Talking to Tara was surprisingly easy and you could see at least a friendship blooming between you in the near future.

If it weren't for the fact that she hangs out with the most insufferable people in the world, of course.

The reminder of Tara's group of friends hit you like a thunderbolt and made your chest ache for some reason. The words of both Ethan and Mindy echoed in your head, warning you to be careful, but a large chunk of your mind also insisted on reminding you of Anika's more positive opinion on the topic.

You turned to your locker again, pretending you were looking for something that didn't even exist. “I could never manage with just one pen.” You added politely, not wanting to leave Tara's joke unanswered just because your thoughts were getting muddled.

“I know. Artist and all, aren't you?” The girl nodded and you could see out of the corner of your eye as she leaned on the locker next to you, crossing her arms while still looking at you with a thoughtful expression. “Hey, don't you feel like going to a party tonight?”

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as you processed what she had said, but Tara remained completely unbothered by your side. As far as you knew, the Carpenter girl didn't usually throw parties, but Amber Freeman did, and she'd instituted a very specific rule about them ever since she'd thrown the first one during your freshman year:

Invite only. No losers allowed.

And, as far as you knew, in Amber's opinion you were included in the word “losers”.

“I don't think so.” You shook your head. “Amber's throwing this party, isn't she? I don't have an invitation and I don't even like parties that much.”

Tara laughed out loud at that, causing a few heads to turn in your direction and your cheeks to heat up like coals. “I'm inviting you, ain't I? and seriously! I've never even seen you at the boring school parties, how are you supposed to know if you like parties or not without ever having tried them?”

Okay, you weren't expecting Tara to rebut your arguments or be so insistent about your presence. Was it getting warmer or was it just your impression? “But... I don't even know anyone who's going, I'll probably just stand in the corner the whole night. And also, I have an appointment the next day, I can't, like, go wild...”

Unexpectedly, Tara let out an even louder laugh, this time even wiping away a tear that ran down her cheek. “Go wild? You're hilarious.” She controlled her breathing, still keeping a bright smile on her face. “You don't have to drink if you don't want to, no one's going to force you. And about the being alone part, you can invite those friends of yours. Amber won't mind, she wants more people at her parties anyway and she refuses to call sophomores and below.”

You looked at her with surprise and suspicion. Invite your friends? Did Tara remember that your friends included Mindy Meeks-Martin? Like, basically Amber's number one enemy, Mindy Meeks-Martin?

Tara finally noticed your wary expression and sighed, uncrossing her arms and raising both hands in a peaceful gesture. “Look, Amber said I could invite nice people and I think you're nice. She'll be busy with other things anyway, she probably won't even notice that your friends are there.”

You bit your lower lip, considering your options. On the one hand, parties weren't exactly your natural habitat and you still had your doubts about whether or not you were welcome there. On the other hand, Tara had been so kind to you lately and... for some reason, you wanted to explore it a little further.

“Can I give you an answer later? I'll ask my friends if they're going.” That's what you decided to answer, choosing to leave your conflicting future in the hands of your dear companions.

Tara nodded a yes and complemented the action with a shrug. “Okay. But even if they decide not to go, I think you should give it a chance.”

Suddenly, the bell for the first period echoed in the corridors, waking you both up to the fact that you had to be in your classrooms in a few seconds. As lockers closed and teenagers ran to avoid being late, Tara lazily turned around and started walking away, ending your interaction.

But you didn't want it to end so soon. In a impulsive act, you raised your voice. “What should I wear?”

Tara turned as soon as she heard you and her eyes slowly traveled up and down your body as a smile worthy of the Cheshire cat broke out on her face. “Wear something pretty! But I think you were already going to do that anyway.”

System crash. Your brain shortcutted. Did Tara had just...? No, she couldn't have possibly... checked you out? Were you seeing things?

As Tara's back got further and further down the corridor, you ran back to your classroom, muttering on the way, “God, I'm really not your strongest soldier.”

_

“I need to ask you something.”

You were extremely nervous. Your fingers kept drumming on the table and your brain was desperately trying to think of a way to convince your friends to A) go to Amber's party with you and B) not think you were out of your mind.

Tara's words (and her actions, by the way) really made you consider that crazy possibility. On any other occasion, you would have denied it as quickly as possible and then run away, but you were finding that Tara Carpenter could be extremely convincing.

Mindy swallowed a piece of the sandwich she was holding, making a dismissive gesture with her hands. “I’ve told you before, we have no interest in a throuple.”

Sitting next to her with her feet propped up on her girlfriend's lap, Anika raised an eyebrow and smiled playfully. “Who says we don't?”

“What?!” Both Mindy and Ethan shouted, although the girl clearly got the joke and was just going along with it, while the boy seemed really bothered by the idea. You and Anika let out a loud chuckle and you smiled at her in appreciation, knowing that she had joked around just to make you less nervous.

With the mood more relaxed, you took a deep breath and said the words in rapid fire, fearing that they would never come out if you lingered too long. “Tara invited me to Amber's party and she said I could invite you guys. Would you go with me? Please?”

“Absolutely not.” Mindy quickly denied your request, putting on an angry expression. “And why would you want to go to a party like that, anyway?”

“That's right, only assholes go to that kind of thing.” Ethan agreed with the girl, looking equally annoyed by your suggestion.

Your eyes turned to Anika in a plea for help and she nodded almost imperceptibly. Opening her famous warm smile that reached her eyes, she grabbed Mindy's arm and pouted. “Pleeeeeeeeeeeease, I've always wanted to go to a party like this. We can just go and laugh at people being dumb.”

“We can laugh at people being dumb at school literally all the time, I don't need to be at Amber Freeman's house for that.” Mindy objects, but it's obvious that she's already starting to give in to her girlfriend's charms by the way her face looks more peaceful.

Anika looked in your direction and you understood that you would have to stay in that ping pong game of arguments until the other two gave in. “Amber won't even notice we were there! Tara said there would be too many people for her to handle.”

“Aaaand,” Anika added, moving even closer to Mindy, almost sitting on her lap on that narrow wooden bench. “Our theme for the A.V club project is literally young and reckless! What's more young and reckless than Amber's parties?! We'll get some great material if we go!”

Mindy considered the proposal for long seconds that left you on the edge of your seat. You knew Ethan would probably go if you all did, so it was really all in the Meeks-Martin girl's hands.

Finally, she sighed and rolled her eyes, slipping an arm around her girlfriend's shoulders. “Okay, I'll go. But I’m warning you, if Amber even looks in my direction, I won't answer for myself.”

Anika squealed, grabbing Mindy's face and pulling her close to kiss her cheek, which clearly got the girl flustered even though she only replied with an “alright, alright”. You smiled at this, feeling a mixture of amusement and relief at knowing that your friends had agreed to embark with you on this madness.

Ethan hadn't necessarily agreed yet, but when you looked in his direction, he sighed dramatically, so that his brown curls moved with the wind. “If you're both going, I think I'll go to keep y/n company. So she won't be a third wheel and won't be bothered by idiots, you know?”

You thanked the boy with a pat on the shoulder and his smile automatically widened. Across the table, Mindy laughed. “Oh, I don't think you have to worry about y/n getting third wheeled, Ethan. Tara invited her, did you forget?”

“Holy shit. I have to tell Tara.” You remembered your conversation with the girl earlier, rushing into her DMs and completely ignoring the jokes and teasing from the girls in front of you.

You just hoped they could also ignore your completely flustered behavior.

 _

We're going!

A simple message had made Tara's day a thousand times better. She'd forgotten how insufferable Amber could be on party days, as well as the fact that Liv had spent the whole day acting like a pick-me-girl because Chad had been spending much more time on his phone than with her lately.

She'd put her best Casanova act into play when she'd spoken to you earlier, but somehow your sense of humor made her break character and just act like herself, which was something she couldn't remember doing so freely in a long time.

Of course she had appealed for a bit of her charm at the end, but she just couldn't hold back when you had opened up such a perfect opening for her to flirt.

“You should really thank me, you know that?” A familiar voice whispered close to her ear and soon pale arms wrapped around her neck in a grip that bordered on uncomfortable. “I basically handed you your challenge on a platter by letting you invite those weirdos.”

Tara was annoyed by the comment and she quickly disentangled herself from the hug, bumping into Amber and her devilish expression. The shorter girl huffed, fixing her clothes and hair as if that was the real reason she had walked away.

At least this time she didn't turn red. That was progress.

“Shut up. If anything happens, it'll be my merit.” Tara slung her bag over her shoulder, walking along with Amber and the other students to the exit after another tiring Friday of classes.

The taller girl didn't even mind Tara's protests, shaking her head as if she didn't believe the freckled girl’s words. “Anyway, at least you'll be busy while I'm doing someone and won't be bothering me the next day.”

They walked out the door and fortunately Tara could already see Sam's car parked not far away. The girl turned her face in the opposite direction of her friend’s, pretending it was due to the sun and hoping Amber hadn't seen the pained expression on her face. “Whatever. See you later, Freeman.”

“See you later, Carpenter!” Amber shouted back, but Tara didn't turn around to wave goodbye and kept her head down until she reached the old sedan her mother used to drive. At least that was until she was no longer sober enough to hold a steering wheel.

Inside the car, Sam raised her head when she heard the door open and close after Tara got into the passenger seat. She started to back out of the parking lot, occasionally glancing at her younger sister who seemed to be upset beside her. “So... how was school?”

“Don't fucking start.” Tara muttered, putting on her headphones in a quick move to isolate herself from the world and from an older sister who suddenly wanted to be there for her after abandoning her alone with an alcoholic for a year.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head on the window, trying not to think about how Amber really got on her nerves sometimes, or think about the guilt that was starting to rise up inside her after being rude to Sam for nothing. Why couldn't her mind stop working for just one minute?

But as she tried to make her own thoughts go blank, a pleasant memory surfaced. Tara remembered your conversation earlier, the way you could understand each other's moods and how genuinely happy she was that you were going to the party for her.

Maybe, if she just kissed you and hid the real reason behind everything, you could even be friends after all. Maybe she could even convince Amber that you were a nice person, so that you could hang out with them.

Of course, these were only wishful thinking, but Tara wanted peace and, at the moment, the utopian idea of having you around gave her that exact feeling. 

_

“Okay, now give me a spin.”

You turned in your place at Anika's request, being mindful to not to get out of the sight of your phone camera, which was leaning awkwardly on your desk. Your room was a mess of clothes scattered all over the place, highlighting your intense search to decide on the perfect outfit to wear for the party.

“So?” You asked your friend, who had her attention split between the video call and her own elaborate makeup.

Anika seemed to finish her analysis on your look while you were about to start trembling with anxiety. You trusted the girl's fashion sense more than anything and you swore you could have started crying if she said that your outfit wasn't good. Fortunately, her response was a positive nod and a satisfied grin. “Oh, you look so cute!”

You looked down, once again staring at the outfit you had chosen, which was a comfortable one, but neat enough to let people know that you had put some effort into dressing up.

Receiving compliments had never exactly been your strong suit, but as much as you felt awkward about Anika's comment, you couldn't get Tara's recommendation out of your head. “Yeah, but do I look pretty?”

“Of course you do! Cute, pretty, it's all the same!”

You frowned, still feeling annoyed. Fashion had never exactly been your forte and that fact was your Achilles heel at the moment, since you still weren't convinced that “cute” and “pretty” were the same thing. In your opinion, Tara seemed to be the type who liked pretty girls, but not cute girls.

Or maybe it didn't make any sense at all and you were just going crazy at the thought of spending the next few hours in a house full of people you either didn't know or didn't like. Besides, when did you start caring about the kind of girl Tara liked?

“I can hear your thoughts from here, you know?” Anika called out, making your head snap out of that internal cycle of overthinking. “Is this all to impress Tara?”

“Ugh.” You grunted, flopping onto your bed oblivious to the dozens of clothes that were crumpling under your body. “No? Maybe? I don't know.”

You felt ashamed of the situation, even though you knew Anika wasn't the judgmental type. Your feelings were still confusing and you definitely didn't feel ready to admit that you thought about Tara more than you should, but there was also no way to hide something that was so obvious.

“Hey, it's okay, you know? Actually, I'm glad to see you're interested in someone.” Anika replied kindly, which made you work up the courage to sit up, staring at your friend's genuine expression through the screen. “I know you're worried about Mindy and all, but Chad's always nice to me when I go to their house and it was super easy to do some school work with Wes for our calc class.”

She continued, “What I mean is that Tara could still be a nice girl for you, no matter how much there's this Romeo and Juliet thing going on between our groups.”

“It's not that. I mean, it is a bit, but also...” You sighed, trying hard not to run your hands through your hair and make it look messy. “... I don't think she'd be interested in me. I mean, she's been giving me these signals but, I don't know, maybe she does it with everyone?”

Anika tsked, shaking her head and giving you a playful smile. “I've never heard of Tara being a player.”

You groaned again, turning your face away as if the act would somehow stop you from feeling so flustered. Anika laughed in response. “Just enjoy the moment! You already know she's the straight forward type, don't you? If she wants something from you, I'm sure she'll get it.”

“Anika!” You shrieked, appalled by what she was inferring. Your entire face seemed to be engulfed in lava as your friend laughed even louder at the clear shock you expressed.

“What?! The world needs more people like that, you know? That's why I'm going to take the initiative to run away to a corner with Mindy at the first opportunity and-.”

“Ew! No! Stop talking! Please, you're my mother figures!”

_

The walls of the house seemed to shake under Tara's fingers as she leaned on it, making her way to the bathroom in slow, crooked steps as she cursed quietly at the amount of people crowding into the hallway.

They were screaming with joy, slurring the lyrics of the extremely loud song that was playing on the huge speakers in the living room, echoing throughout the house and possibly the entire block. Thank God, Wes had already taken care of his mother.

Tara groaned the whole way, feeling like pushing away all the sweaty, alcohol-altered people who bumped into her shoulder, unable to see properly through the colored lights that made the place look like a nightclub. She sighed in relief when she finally found the bathroom, opening the door and locking herself inside without caring about the noise it made.

She turned on the lights and leaned on the sink with both hands, leaning over to look at her reflection in the mirror, with tired eyes and her bangs sticking to her forehead from sweat. God, how could she have been so shaken up by a measly hour of partying? She used to be able to take a lot more.

But she also knew exactly what had led up to it and the smell of alcohol on her lips wouldn't let her lie. She thought she was going to have more fun, but her evening became much more difficult after she saw Amber stick her tongue down the throats of at least three people right in front of her, making a point of giving Tara a thumbs-up afterwards, almost as if she was trying to annoy her friend on purpose.

Tara tried everything to make herself less bothered. She'd danced, she'd watched some people play 7 minutes in heaven, she'd even flirted with a few people just for fun, but in the end, what had stopped her blood from pounding furiously in her ears had been the beers stocked in Amber's basement fridge.

She stopped after the third one, after she felt tipsy enough. She didn't want to be her mother's daughter, who didn't know her own limits and fell asleep on the living room carpet because she didn't have the strength to walk to her own room. And the drinks helped for a while, but now that the sweat had evaporated the effect of the alcohol on herself, her headache left her one scream or punch away from going insane.

Tara splashed water on her face, oblivious to the fact that her makeup was getting smudged or her bangs got even wetter. At this point, she no longer cared about much other than surviving the rest of the night.

Once she had pulled herself together, she sighed and left the bathroom, expecting to be dragged into the living room by the crowd of teenagers dancing and jumping around like wild animals, but instead she ended up being bumped in the opposite direction, almost knocking her off balance.

“Oh my God, I'm sorry!” Gentle hands rushed to hold Tara up before she fell and she followed the length of the arms with her eyes until she bumped into a familiar face. It was you, who was now staring at Tara with a frown. The girl couldn't help herself and looked you up and down, mentally appreciating the way you were dressed.

You quickly took your hands off Tara's shoulders, rubbing them anxiously. The girl felt a tug in her chest as she remembered that she had invited you and you most likely should have spent all this time looking for her, while she was drinking and whining about not having the attention of the biggest bitch in Woodsboro. Drunk and abandoning people? Wow, the Carpenter women's genes never fail.

“I didn't realize you'd already arrived.” Tara broke the awkward silence, mentally thanking you for being upstairs and being able to talk without having to shout over the hip hop track playing in the living room.

You looked away, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah. It's been a while.”

Tara nodded, feeling a little disappointed in herself as she realized that you had clearly been annoyed by her absence. She tried to strike up a conversation again, wishing she could somehow put a smile on your face. “What brings you upstairs? Not enjoying the energy of the party?”

“I was looking for the bathroom.” You sighed, hugging your elbows. “Actually, I was more looking to escape to the bathroom, because I was planning to hide there until my friends decided to leave.”

“You really don’t like parties, huh?” Tara joked, but the smile on her face hardened when she realized that you hadn't laughed along with her.

Tara felt terrible. Sure, you'd only had a few interactions before, but all of them had proved that you could understand each other easily. Now, Tara didn't know if it was the party, if it was her or something else that had made you look so uncomfortable, but she was determined to make it up to you for being an idiot.

“You know, I think I have a better hiding place than a small bathroom.” She leaned towards you, as if she was sharing a secret. “Are you interested?”

You scrutinized the girl's face and she couldn't help but be disappointed that you didn't even seem to be affected by your proximity as you usually would. Your arms were crossed as you felt suspicious of her offer. “Don't you have to go back to the party?”

Tara made a dismissive gesture with her hand and started walking down the large hallway, looking for a specific room. “Nah, I've been to so many of these that it's lost it’s spark to me.”

Technically, it wasn't a lie. Tara was sick of that party and she'd love to have a distraction from the fact that Amber was now probably at her body count number 100 and Tara wasn't talking about dead people. But then again, she felt strangely committed to making you have at least a little fun and she really liked your company.

Maybe it was just because she felt bad for having invited you in the first place. Yeah, that must be it.

She opened Amber's bedroom door, barging in without hesitation and heading straight for the window, opening it all the way. Behind her, you seemed slightly alarmed by the idea of simply invading the personal space of a girl who could make your life a living hell. “Uh…”

But before you could really protest, Tara put one leg out of the window, glancing in your direction with a playful smile. “Trust me. You’re not scared, are you?”

“I’m not scared, but trusting you? After you invited me to a party you’re trying to escape?” you replied, making Tara's smile widen as she realized you were starting to open up again. “And what are you doing at the window, Rapunzel?”

Tara chuckled, pointing your way. “Wait and see.”

In a swift motion, she raised her hands to the roof platform above her head, pushing off Amber's window with her feet to gain enough momentum to pull herself up with extra effort from her arms. Still holding onto the edge, Tara hung upside down, looking at you through the window with her bangs sticking up. “So, are you coming or not?”

You snorted lightly with the sight, shaking your head as you approached the window. “I’m no Spider-Man. If I fall from here, it’ll be your fault, and I hope they write it down as homicide.”

“Good to know you have so much faith in me.” Tara answered, kneeling on the roof tiles and extending her hand for you to grab. You hesitated for a few seconds, and honestly, Tara couldn’t blame you for it, but she kept looking at you expectantly, trying to communicate with her eyes. Let me make things right with you.

She almost sighed in relief when you finally grabbed her forearm, letting her help you up slowly, pretending not to notice how her hands ended up on your hips. All in the name of making your night a little less boring, of course.

But wow, your body felt... warm.

It didn’t take long for you to pull away from Tara, clearing your throat and sitting on the roof beside her. It would be hard to stand for long due to the slope, but the spot was comfortable enough for you to sit or lie down without the risk of rolling off.

The roof was quite high, not tall enough for you to see the entire city, for example, but high enough that the people below you looked like tiny ants. Ants that were dancing, having fun, and throwing cups of beer at each other.

“Do you come here often?” you broke the silence, but Tara saw the exact moment you winced, realizing way too late the double meaning of your words. “I didn’t mean… I wasn’t…”

“It’s all good.” Tara laughed, considering saying something to tease you even more, but she ultimately decided against it , feeling a bit sorry for your embarrassed state. “And no, to answer your question. I used to spend a lot more time up here before, but now…”

She let the sentence trail off, lost in her own thoughts. Maybe the last time she had been on that roof was the day Sam had gone to rehab, two years ago. Which, looking back now, was probably around the same time Amber stopped being a caring friend and started being the friend that thought Tara complained too much.

The two of you remained in a comfortable silence for a few more seconds—or as quiet as it could be with two massive speakers blasting music two floors below. Tara glanced to the side, staring at your face, which seemed more focused on the starry sky, illuminated only by a few beams of moonlight.

Like she had felt in the car earlier, that sight gave her peace. It wasn’t like looking at Amber, which made her feel like her organs were being squeezed and thrown into an erupting volcano. Looking at you made her feel like a sea breeze was brushing against her face, a comforting, peaceful gust of wind.

Tara’s eyes drifted down to your lips, and she had to run her tongue across her own. Amber’s challenge lingered in the back of her mind, and she was tempted to test if your kiss would be a better distraction than the cheap beer she’d grabbed from the basement.

But suddenly, Tara felt self-conscious. Maybe it was the fact that the idea had been Amber’s, and she was still too annoyed with the girl to give her the satisfaction of being right. Maybe it was because she could still taste the alcohol in her mouth and didn’t want you to taste it too.

Or maybe it was something else. Something gentler and softer that even Tara couldn’t quite describe yet.

“Oh, look!” Tara snapped out of her own thoughts when she saw you excitedly pointing at the sky. “You can see Orion so clearly!”

She followed the direction of your hand with her eyes, feeling confused about what exactly she was supposed to be looking at. That particular night was cloudless, which made the vast array of stars shining in the dark sky exceptionally beautiful.

You noticed the lost expression on the girl’s face beside you and chuckled. “Orion? The constellation?”

“Oh, yeah. I… I know.” Tara just nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed for not being sure what you were referring to. She knew what a constellation was, of course, but she had never studied them in much detail, and in her eyes, all she could see in the sky were random stars, beautiful but completely scattered.

You laughed again, not buying Tara’s excuse for a second after seeing how confused her eyes looked. Gently, your hand held hers as you started pointing out the constellation with both of your hands joined together.

“See those three stars close together? That’s what we call Orion’s belt. It’s much easier to spot the rest of the constellation starting from there. Up there, kind of making a triangle, you have Meissa, Betelgeuse, and Bellatrix, and if you look to the side, it kinda looks like he’s holding a bow.”

Tara wanted to pay attention to your explanation, but her brain turned to mush the moment your hands got entangled, and her heart started pounding like the drums in a heavy metal song. You, on the other hand, seemed completely unaware of the action, which made Tara feel even more like an idiot.

Wow, what was in those drinks?

“You really know a lot about this,” she said, trying to sound normal, even though her voice felt like it could crack at any moment. You smiled at the comment, letting go of her hand to play with your fingers in your lap.

“One day, I had this brilliant idea to paint constellations on my bedroom ceiling—or at least most of them—and I had to do a ton of research to make sure it looked right.” You laughed, and Tara realized she wanted to hear that sound more and more.

“It’s cool that you’re a painter. It’s different.” She wanted to keep the conversation going, eager to learn more about any detail you were willing to offer, but she didn’t exactly know what to say. For someone who usually had no trouble expressing herself, Tara seemed to have forgotten her entire vocabulary.

Luckily, you seemed to be in the opposite situation, feeling comfortable enough to keep talking. “I guess so? I’ve never thought much about it before. Painting is a lot more than just a hobby for me—it’s more like a safe haven, you know?”

Tara nodded instead of giving a verbal response, especially because she knew exactly what you were talking about, but she didn’t have the words to express how much she needed a conversation like this—so simple, yet so healing.

She reached into the pocket of her jacket, slowly pulling out her phone. “Can I take a picture of the constellation?” Tara asked, mentally kicking herself when she heard how vulnerable her voice sounded.

Her tone didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you looked at her with a bit of confusion, but soon after, your eyes softened, shining with kindness—almost as bright as the stars above your heads. “You don’t have to ask me to take pictures of the sky, but do you want me to point it out again?”

“Sorry, old habit.” She shook her head to snap out of it, feeling her cheeks heating up as she started opening the camera app and aiming it upward. “But yeah, please.”

Slowly and gently, you took Tara’s hands again, working together with her to make sure the constellation was perfectly centered. You were close enough for Tara to catch the pleasant scent of your perfume, but she forced herself to stay focused on the picture you two were trying to capture.

After a few successful shots of Orion (which Tara planned to edit later to make it more visible and color-corrected), the two of you lay down side by side, admiring the night’s beauty in another moment of shared, comfortable silence.

_

Now, the silence inside Sam’s car wasn’t as comfortable.

It was the first time Tara had asked Sam to pick her up from a party, especially as late as 2 AM, considering the younger Carpenter always used to sleep over at Amber’s once everything wrapped up.

But after you left, Tara completely lost the desire to stay. The music was dull, she had no interest in drinking or playing any games, and she definitely didn’t want to be around her friends anymore.

She sat in a thoughtful silence, her head resting against the window, watching as the asphalt disappeared behind the car doors. The soft hum of the engine served as background noise since Tara didn’t have her precious headphones, but she’d spent enough time around loud music for the night anyway, so her ears were begging for a break.

“Did you… have fun?” Sam asked cautiously, as if Tara were a wounded animal that might lash out at any moment. The younger girl sighed, feeling guilty for being the reason behind the hostile distance between them.

She already felt guilty about enough things. Maybe it was time to start lifting some of that weight off her shoulders.

“I guess I did.” She nodded, watching Sam’s surprised expression at her genuine response. The look made her seem younger, reminding Tara that Sam wasn’t that much older than her. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember seeing Sam so carefree since she’d returned, but her anger hadn’t exactly allowed her to notice the little details. “I had a good time.”

“Good,” Sam replied, trying to hide a satisfied smile from tugging at the corner of her lips. In the passenger seat, Tara did the same, feeling a tiny bit of happiness from the small progress they’d made. Small steps were important.

The car fell silent again, but it felt less heavy, and Tara figured it was because Sam was tired and still had to focus on the road for at least another 10 minutes. Taking advantage of the pause, the younger Carpenter pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket, going straight to her gallery and searching for the pictures she had taken earlier.

Most of them were of the sky, capturing the fateful (and now familiar to Tara) constellation of Orion, which made her think of the feeling of your hands on hers. Two others, however, were a bit more personal for her.

She zoomed in on the photo, staring at the profile of your face bathed in moonlight as you smiled brighter than the stars. She had taken the picture in secret, an impulsive urge to capture not just the moment, but you. Tomorrow, she could blame it on the alcohol, but tonight, she would give herself the privilege of gazing at your carefree expression for a few long seconds.

You had probably spent hours talking on the roof, and yet it still didn’t feel like enough. Tara wanted more. She needed more. Even though she’d never considered herself to be possessive or clingy, she couldn’t help but want to explore every little piece of your world as if it were the most beautiful piece of art.

A sudden thought crossed her mind, and Tara quickly opened Instagram, this time taking her time to scroll through and really appreciate each of your paintings. As she studied the pieces you had displayed, she mentally kicked herself for not having done it sooner. It was clear that you drew inspiration from the Renaissance, and that people were your greatest muse. There were few self-portraits, but Tara recognized some of your friends in the works.

She was so captivated that she felt a strong urge to knock on your door and ask you to tell her the story behind each one, just for the pleasure of hearing your voice. But, well, it was 2 AM, and she didn’t even know where you lived.

And, of course, she wasn’t that crazy.

Still, she decided to slide into your DMs, sending you five of the photos you had taken of the sky, taking the opportunity to wish you a good night. Would sending a heart emoji be too much? She decided against it. The photos would be enough.

But Tara still wasn’t satisfied with her exploration, so she ventured into your stories, looking for anything that could give her more reasons to talk to you. It turned out to be a great decision, because she struck gold.

You had posted an announcement from Woodsboro Central Hospital earlier, calling for volunteers for a special event dedicated to bringing joy to children hospitalized with cancer. The flyer said that any help was welcome, from telling stories to dressing up as superheroes, and Tara couldn’t stop wondering what you had signed up to do.

Without wasting any time, she navigated to the hospital’s profile, hoping they were still accepting applications even though she was texting them literally seven hours before the event.

Hi, I’m interested in volunteering! Would you need a photographer?

[meiieiri]

𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 [geto suguru]

synopsis: suguru geto upped and left that day without a moment’s notice and he took everything with him — your heart, your soul — but as you look at the positive pregnancy test in your hand, you realize that he did in fact leave one thing behind.

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, angst, explicit sex.

a/n: i know, i know. i should be writing WE but this concept has been in my head far longer than WE and i just need to get it out there or else, i think i’m gonna go insane. if anyone wants to know the plot of this would have been fic, feel free to let me know lmao, of course it still involves gojo bc i can’t choose between the two of them since they’re both so baby girl—! also happy birthday to the loml, my pookie-wookie, honeybunch, suguru geto!!

It’s been a year since the happy side trip to Okinawa became a living nightmare that culminated in you, Suguru Geto, and Satoru Gojo on the brink of death and with many more scars than you could have ever imagined. The three of you had very different ideas on how to cope. Satoru spends the past year perfecting his cursed technique, often at the expense of his emotional well-being and energy but then again, after what Toji Fushiguro did to him leaving him with the trauma of being slaughtered without regard, it was only natural.

You and Suguru on the other hand retreated into yourselves; it was hard to believe that just a year before the two of you were a normal teenage couple who enjoyed walking the trendy streets of Shibuya in the weekend sunshine without a care in the world, whose only real problem is to decide where the two of you were gonna have your weekly dates.

Now, things were different. Rainclouds have gathered effectively blocking out the sun. As you sat on the desk reading through your textbook on reverse cursed technique, you glance at Suguru from time to time and you aren’t the least bit surprised to see him sitting by the dorm room’s windowsill, staring at the garden with an empty gaze.

You’ve had enough of this. This eternal state of limbo was tearing you and Suguru apart.

Slowly, you stand up from the desk, softly padding across the wooden floor to where your boyfriend is. It was the middle of the night, last you checked, it’s already nine in the evening. You should be heading back to the women’s dorms now but you couldn’t, not when things were like this, not when Suguru’s losing himself day after day, you can’t help him, you know that, but you could be there for him seeing that’s all you can do.

But even then, it’s never enough.

Your relationship with Suguru is like a lit dynamite stick, you know that it’s only a matter of time before it also explodes in your faces. So, Suguru takes the lead, like he always does, he’s so much wiser and stronger than you in every way though he doesn’t care to admit it, though he pretends he doesn’t know why you’re so dependent on him.

“I think we should break up.”

He says that while holding your hand. You saw this coming but just how long did you anticipate that the love of your life would eventually up and leave you? You squeeze his hand with every ounce of the grief you are feeling hoping it would transcend the confines of your skin and it would reach his heart. “Is that what you really want?”

“No.”

He stands up to meet your gaze, the throw blanket falling to the floor as he does. He leans in closer, his hand cupping your cheek with such tenderness and heartache that you feel your heart rise to your throat. Suguru is normally so gentle like a shower of midnight rain, but he kisses you like this is the last — it probably is. Lost in him, your hands trail over his chest, and he deepens the kiss hoping that you’d also understand that he doesn’t really want to leave but he has to. He can’t bear to drag you into his mess.

He could never do that to you.

You respond with a soft moan when Suguru slowly lifts your shirt over your head. He stares at your plump breasts for a moment, covered only by a thin lace-like material, before deciding that looking at you wasn’t enough. He has to take you, ravish you, fondle you, kiss you. Anything to let you know that he’s not doing this because he’s fallen out of love with you.

“Don’t leave,” you plead in between his soft kisses to your breasts, tears slipping from your eyes as he removes your bra, letting it slip from your shoulders which he was now kissing up to the crook of your neck. How could your hearts be so full yet so empty at the same time?

None of what happened should have caused this much heartache between the two of you. In fact, it should have made you rely on each more, right? It should have strengthened you not destroy everything you had: each other, the future you planned together.

Suguru doesn’t answer as he nips at your neck, sucking on the delicate flesh, as your forms gracefully fall on the bed, he stares at you with such love, such devotion, and you wonder why this should be the last time. His gaze falls to your vulnerable form, his cock hardening at the sight of your clothed pussy getting wet just from that. He grinds against you, sighing at the way you buck your hips to meet his wanting more of him. If this was to be the last time, then, you want to make it count.

“Suguru, I’m yours.” That’s all he needs to hear and he removes your underwear, kissing down your leg as he slips it off of you. He tosses it onto his nightstand, and he leans towards it to grab a condom from his drawer. You catch his hand. “Don’t. I want to feel you.”

Suguru’s eyes widen at your request, his lips eliciting short huffs of breath. He’s never fucked you raw before. “Are you sure?”

You nod against his forehead. “Please. Please fuck me, Su.”

Slowly, his hand guiding his tip up and down your slit, smearing your wetness along the base of his cock before slowly pushing into you savoring the sensation of your cunt squeezing around him as he stretches you with his girth. A deep groan betrays him and his mouth hangs open as your tight walls envelop him as he bottoms out. He takes a moment to collect himself, not wanting to cum right then and there.

“S-shit. Ah, you’re so fucking tight.” He allows himself a small thrust, the tip of his cock already nudging your sensitive spot, having memorized you after many desperate nights of lovemaking. His fingers grip the soft skin of your hips as he pulls out momentarily before pushing back in again more forcefully this time.

“S-su! Mngh—please fuck me—I love you, I love you, I love you,” you beg.

A tear slips from Suguru’s eyes, it was becoming more real now — this final goodbye. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he slowly builds up the pace of his thrusts, his cock bullying your cunt, driving himself in and out of your pussy, again and again. He brings your leg to his waist, holding it so he could angle himself better. “I love you too.”

You mewl as he pistons in and out of you, his balls slapping hard against your skin. “Sugu—ah! More—n-need more of you—“ You’re crying now, and he is too as he continues to ravage your pussy, his hand finds your other leg and he pushes your knees close to your chest, folding you into a deep mating press, slamming into your cunt.

“I’m yours. Always,” Suguru looks into your eyes amidst your desperate cries, your thighs trembling under his passionate gaze. He grunts when he feels the familiar tightening of your walls. “You’re close—fuck,” he takes this as an incentive to go faster, harder, and he fucks you in a way he never has before.

“So good—oh—“ you fall silent as he suddenly brings your hands to your clit, letting you touch yourself. You looked so beautiful like this, under him, your head thrown back against the pillows, your mouth primed in a silent ‘o’. He pants as he feels his balls tighten when your hips involuntarily buck into him as you climax. “Suguru!”

“Ah, baby…” He groans, the hot breath from his lips tickling your forehead as he rides out his high, spilling his seed into you not caring what the consequences may be. You did want this after all, and he did too. You feel full just from the sensation of his thick cum, he thrusts into you one last time, further smearing his release in your walls.

You sighed as he stays there, your weak and trembling arms coming up to embrace him. He strokes your hair, memorizing each lock, pulling out after a while. Suguru pulls you flush against his chest, the remnants of his and your release sliding down your thighs. “It’ll be okay,” Suguru catches his breath, kissing your temple. “Even without me. You’ll be okay.”

“I won’t…you know I won’t.”

“You will.” He says firmly. “I promise. You know me, baby, I never break my promises.” You feel tears well up in your eyes again and he tenderly wipes it away. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too.”

By the next morning, you already knew with the way the AC’s cold air nips at your skin without Suguru, your Suguru, there to embrace you that he’s already left.

Without a note, without a goodbye. Typical of Suguru who doesn’t want to stick around to see you cry.

You curl into yourself as sobs wrack your body, the promise ring Suguru gave you gleaming under the rays of morning sunlight.

A few years later, just as Suguru said, things did get better. You smiled as you arranged the last of the tempura into the bento box filled with soba noodles with nori and small containers of mentsuyu and wasabi. It’s amazing how much she takes after him. You look at the clock and your face pales. You’re running late, so, you head upstairs to speed things up a little. You creak open the door to see the little blessing of your life, the last gift Suguru ever gave you. She’s looking at the picture of you and Suguru which you placed in her room, and since you know it was highly unlikely she’ll ever meet your lover in this lifetime, you’ve decided you want her to know him if by his appearance alone and the stories you tell her.

“Riko? We’re gonna be late,” you gently reminded your four-year-old daughter. You shoot her a funny look when you see the haphazard way she placed her hair in a bun. She pouts as she tries to get it right again, looking at her father’s picture intently. “Sweetheart, are you trying to look like—?”

“Like papa,” she huffs cutely and you chuckle, moving to pick her up and sit her down on your lap. Kissing her cheek, you also gaze at the picture depicting a candid you and Suguru during your first year at Tokyo Jujutsu Technical College. He has his arm wrapped around your shoulder, winking at the camera as he kisses your cheek, a silent gleeful laugh on your face.

You look at her, a little confused, you gently smooth her hair before planting a kiss between her eyebrows. “And why do you want to look like papa?” Riko shyly looks away, her ears turning a little red as she blushes, a trait she inherited from you. You flick her nose, giggling. “Well?” Riko laughs at the playful gesture.

“…So you don’t cry anymore, mama.” Your heart seems to have stopped beating for a moment and a warm, tearful smile appears on your face, wrapping Riko in a bone-crushingly tender hug. “Love you…” she sinks into the warmth of your hug and you kiss the top of her head.

“I love you, Riko. So…so…much.”

At that, your little girl sighs in relief. “School?” she tilts her head and you suddenly remembered the reason you went upstairs. You had to get moving. Your eyes widened and you carry her downstairs, being careful not to jostle her too much. “My hair, mama!” she giggles at her still unruly hair and you grimace in embarrassment. Suddenly, the front door opens and Riko sees who it is, before you could grab the spare brush from your bag, she suddenly jumps out of your arms and makes a beeline for the door.

“Papa, papa!”

You turn around and though the sight pains you to this day, somehow, you’re starting to learn to live with the fact that things are always bound to change with time and that this is what Suguru would have wanted: a loving and complete family for his little girl. You wrap Riko’s bento and place it in her lunchbox before going to greet the visitor.

“Hi, babe.” He turns to meet your lips for a sweet kiss, balancing Riko in his strong arms.

“Good morning, Satoru.”

[cherienymphe]

Teenage Dirtbag X

JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, DUB-CON acts, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

⭑

You blinked at JJ’s question, leaning back against the wall of the pool house.

He sat next to you, both of you facing the couch, and you tried to ignore the feel of his arm brushing against yours. Despite the fact that it was only a week ago that he was kissing you in your bedroom—and that Rafe didn’t not deserve it—you still felt wrong about the whole thing. Horrible or not, the older blond was still your boyfriend, and it was bad enough that you were hiding out in the pool house with JJ while Rafe was probably off snorting coke with his friends.

You didn’t want to make it worse by doing anything other than talking.

The blonde’s question made you eventually sigh, straightening.

“Hey…hey, you don’t have to answer anything you don’t-.”

“No…I…” you shook your head. “It’s fine.”

That was the truth.

“It’s just that I’ve never talked about any of this with anyone before…”

Your voice shrank, and you didn’t want to admit how comforting it felt to feel JJ’s hands come up to rest on your arms. It was strange to say all of this out loud to anyone, especially JJ, because you were so used to Rafe’s behavior—had been rationalizing it for so long—and you felt nervous as to how JJ would take it.

“It was my 19th birthday,” you slowly said.

You felt JJ tense, and when you snuck a glance at him, there was a deep frown on his face as he looked at you.

“We were arguing…” you sadly smiled as you thought about what it’d been about. “…because I wouldn’t have sex with him.”

You scoffed at the memory and at how you’d ignored what you thought was a little thing.

“It’d been a sore spot for a while. I was a virgin, I wasn’t ready, and Rafe was waiting longer than he’d anticipated.”

JJ’s hands fell, and he fully turned to face you, that frown remaining on his face as he listened.

“It became this whole…thing that really just pissed me off because it was my birthday,” you spat out, frowning now too. “It was my birthday party, and he was ruining it.”

You swallowed, recalling how angry and sad you’d felt that night.

“You know, I was reading up on this one day, and it said that sometimes people like him will purposely start arguments and fights on special days and holidays and stuff to make it all about them?” you chuckled to yourself, shaking your head. “They were right.”

Tears kissed your eyes, and JJ reached out to brush his thumbs underneath them.

“…because every time I think about that day, instead of remembering turning nineteen and celebrating with my family and my friends and my boyfriend… All I remember is him slapping me,” you whispered, holding JJ’s gaze. “All I remember is where it all started and how he begged me to forgive him…and how I should’ve left then.”

“Hey…”

“It was my birthday…but to me it’s just the beginning of the end. It’s the start of when Rafe ruined my life.”

JJ wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, and you pressed your face into his shoulder. You felt so odd—so much lighter—and you didn’t need to be a therapist to know that it was because you were finally talking about this. The blonde’s hands rubbing up and down your back was enough to make your lashes flutter.

“You know, I blamed myself for the longest time,” you mumbled.

JJ pulled away almost immediately, lips parting, and you shook your head.

“I know that it’s not my fault. I know that, now, but… I was so angry that night that I said things that I knew would make him mad,” you shrugged. “It just didn’t seem fair that I was the only one upset on my birthday.”

“That doesn’t excuse him hitting you,” JJ bit out, and you nodded with a shrug.

“It doesn’t…but…for a while I kind of believed I’d brought that on myself.”

JJ looked like he didn’t know how to take in what you’d told him, pink lips pressed together as he just studied your face. The bruising under your eye was practically nonexistent, and you shuddered when he reached up to lightly graze the skin with his fingers. You’d been exceptionally agreeable since the incident, dreading a repeat of the night where Rafe forced himself on you so violently that you’d had to strip the sheets.

JJ suddenly blinked, brows twitching, and there was an unsure look on his face.

“Can I ask you something?” he wondered, voice low, and you nodded.

A look passed over his face that you couldn’t place, and he seemed to be thinking hard about whatever was on his mind.

“A little over a year ago…”

You felt your shoulders droop, almost positive you knew where he was going with this.

“Sarah told us how you and Rafe had called the police one day.”

You sighed, recalling the story Ward had repeated. Neighbors were bound to notice a police car in the yard, bound to spread gossip, and he couldn’t very well tell people the truth.

“She didn’t know what for. Said that Ward wouldn’t tell her…”

JJ’s words died in the air as you stood, his hands falling from you. You tried not to think about that day if you could help it, and you were surprised by the quick procession of tears. JJ stood with you while you wiped your face, and you knew what he was going to ask before he even opened his mouth.

“Did you call the cops? On him?”

By his tone, you could tell that he knew the answer, and when you sniffed, JJ was there. He turned you around and pulled you against him. The reminder of that day—and all the emotions that weighed you down that evening—had more tears escaping against your will. You twisted your fingers into the back of his shirt, trembling in his hold, and JJ held you tighter.

“I thought I was going to die,” you shakily confessed. “I thought he was going to kill me.”

You could feel a shiver crawl down his spine at that.

“He was so mad,” you cried. “He was screaming and throwing glass at me and…he put a gun in my mouth.”

Your face was pressed into the crook of JJ’s neck.

“I didn’t know what else to do. I really thought…” you trailed off, squeezing your eyes shut. “It’s why I didn’t even want to talk to you. I didn’t want to go through that again for something as stupid as a smile.”

JJ seemed to freeze at that, and when he pulled away a bit, his gaze was questioning.

“What…?”

You opened and closed your mouth while JJ just stared at you, blue eyes glinting as his mind started to put the pieces together.

“What do you mean? Are you saying…?”

“No! JJ, that wasn’t your fault, it was mine.”

“Stop saying that,” he breathed. “What the hell do you mean? Are you saying Rafe did that because…?”

You rubbed your forehead, sighing.

“JJ, it wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who smiled back at you that day at The Wreck. Rafe saw.”

You swore you saw the color drain from his face, and you watched JJ stumble back, falling to sit on the edge of the couch. He was staring up at you with parted lips, and you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that he was going over that interaction in his mind. It was such a simple and harmless interaction…one that had an almost fatal consequence.

JJ ran his hands down his face.

“…and when I told Rafe that you’d apologized to me?”

His voice was low—troubled—and when he lifted his gaze to meet yours, you only pulled your lip between your teeth. When you didn’t respond right away, you watched him exhale, shoulders sagging as he buried his face into his hands.

“JJ, that wasn’t your fault.”

I’m an idiot,” he choked out.

“JJ…” you whispered. “You couldn’t have known.”

“That doesn’t matter!”

He was standing, now, and you hated the conflict and regret you saw in his eyes.

“I knew he treated you like shit,” he spat, gesturing towards the door. “I knew it would piss him off.”

“JJ,” you reached for him.

“I just thought you guys would argue a little,” he whispered, and you rested your hand on his arm. “I didn’t know that he was…”

You held his gaze—yours pleading—as you tried to get him to see that it wasn’t his fault. You needed JJ to understand that there was no way he could’ve known. Sarah lived under the same roof as Rafe—and you half the time—and she still didn’t know. You weren’t going to fault JJ for thinking Rafe was only capable of being a little bit of an asshole.

When JJ’s hand rested on your cheek, your heart skipped a beat.

He was getting closer, and you should’ve been stopping him. The truth was that you felt safe with JJ, and you didn’t want to. The beginning of your relationship with Rafe felt like ages ago, so this safe—and excited feeling—you were experiencing with JJ felt almost new. When his nose touched yours, you placed your hand on his chest.

“I never would’ve done that if I had known…”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you reassured him, swallowing when his other hand touched your waist, fingers grazing the skin from where your shirt rode up. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” JJ argued. “You were right that day. I was being an asshole.”

When his lips brushed yours, you shook your head.

“JJ-.”

The rest of your words were swallowed when his lips covered yours, following you every time you tried to step back. It had been a week since he kissed you last, and the way he moved his mouth over yours told you that he would do it every day if he could. His hands were all over you, and you gasped into his mouth when they rested on the small of your back, pinning your lower half against him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against your lips. “I’m really fucking sorry.”

When your back met the wall, JJ wasted no time in pressing his knee between your legs, and you couldn’t hold in the shudder as he pressed his leg against your clothed mound. Things felt like they were moving too fast, so much so that you didn’t even realize what was happening until you moaned, JJ forcing you to grind yourself against his leg.

His hands were tight on your waist, and his lips had just traveled to your neck when your phone rang.

It startled you and angered JJ, the blond letting out a frustrated huff. It was Rafe—you knew it was Rafe—the other blond calling you almost every hour from the moment he’d left. JJ’s hands briefly squeezed your waist before forcing himself to pull away. His blue eyes glinted, and when you studied his face, he only shook his head.

Reluctantly, he let you go.

“Hey,” you softly said the moment you answered the phone.

You avoided JJ’s gaze as Rafe’s voice filled your ear.

“You know what? I actually think I’m gonna just head home.”

JJ’s voice reached you from the kitchen, and you only briefly glanced up as Pope responded.

“Seriously man? Now, you don’t even want to go out anymore? You made such a fuss!”

“Yeah, I know,” the blond said, and you heard Sarah say something—probably to John B. “…but I’m not feeling too good, and I think I’m just going to go home.”

Pope sounded disappointed—as did John B. —but they didn’t argue with him much over it. You were currently in the Cameron’s kitchen getting something to eat, and you had been since Sarah, her boyfriend, Pope, and JJ came inside under the reasoning that Pope had to pee.

“We’re just going to hang out with some people at the beach,” she’d said.

You could see it in her eyes then that she’d wanted to ask you to join them, but even if you hadn’t given her a look warning her off of that, Rafe’s tight grip on you was clear. If Sarah thought he was strict before, then it was nothing in comparison to how he was now after the incident at The Chateau. His phone call only moments ago was proof of it.

“How are you going to get back?” Sarah wondered, her voice pulling you from your thoughts.

“You know I’ll find a way,” JJ told her, tone light and boastful.

She made an unsure sound before letting it go.

“Well, leave before Rafe gets back. I don’t want a phone call from Rose or Y/N telling me that my brother and my friend got into a fight.”

You closed the fridge as the rest of them filed out, telling JJ to call them when he made it back to The Cut. The house was oddly quiet, and while you wanted to pretend like you weren’t alone in the house with JJ—Rose didn’t count—it was kind of hard to do when you turned around to find him at the kitchen entrance.

He was wearing some shirt with the sleeves cut off—as he often did—and you tried not to let your gaze linger on his arms.

“I hope you didn’t do that for me…”

The smirk that danced along his lips gave you your answer.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, stepping into the kitchen. “I was kind of hoping Rafe wouldn’t be here.”

“…and he could walk in at any moment…as is his right. Considering,” you gestured around. “…this is his house.”

JJ leaned his arms on the other side of the counter, gazing up at you as you grabbed a paper towel.

“Hey, I’m sure I could find some excuse if he catches me in here…”

He straightened, slowly making his way around the island, and you didn’t miss that mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

“If he manages to find me on top of you…maybe I could even tell him I forced you into it.”

“JJ…” you said, taking a step back.

He held your gaze for a few moments before looking away with a shake of his head.

“Why do you feel bad about what you’re doing? He treats you like shit,” he chuckled, but it lacked humor.

You looked away from him, shrugging.

“I’m not doing anything,” you whispered.

He didn’t respond right away, and you didn’t hear him move closer, so you shuddered when you felt his fingers grazing the side of your face.

“You shouldn’t feel bad about kissing me,” he quietly told you. “If you ask me, you should be doing a lot worse.”

When you looked at him again, he was much closer than you’d anticipated, and you sharply inhaled. Despite his cheeky nature, you could see the way his eyes dimmed as he looked at you.

“Every time I think about him…and you…I think I could kill him.”

You frowned at his confession, shaking your head.

“JJ…”

“I would if you asked me to,” he continued, moving closer. “I’d drown him in the fucking ocean.”

“You can’t-! You can’t say things like that,” you said, voice lowering.

“Why not?” he curiously wondered. “You’re telling me you don’t want him dead for everything he’s put you through? There was blood on your sheets last week-.”

“I know,” you cut him off. “I was there, remember?”

You watched JJ take a deep breath, and he seemed to be calming himself down. The silence was a little tense, and you worriedly eyed the entrance, expecting Rafe to just show up at any moment. When JJ took your hand, you tried to pull it away, but he wouldn’t let you. You found yourself between him and the counter, and your heart was in your throat.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I just…don’t understand why you’re fighting me.”

Your eyes burned, and you briefly looked towards the ceiling.

“…because,” you breathed. “He’s still my boyfriend.”

“The only reason you’re with him is because you don’t want him to fucking murder you,” JJ sneered. “That’s not a relationship, that’s a hostage situation.”

You couldn’t disagree with JJ’s assessment, and you both knew it.

“He enjoys treating you like shit…so why can’t you bring yourself to enjoy treating him like shit?”

Again, JJ’s logic wasn’t wrong, and you briefly closed your eyes with a sigh.

“…because if he caught me, he’d kill me,” you whispered.

When JJ’s hand touched your face again, you held his gaze. The smile he gave you was small, and your heart fluttered when he brushed his thumb over your skin.

“What did I say earlier?” he mockingly replied. “Let him try to kill me for fucking his girlfriend, I don’t care.”

He pressed his lips to yours.

“I just want you to stop feeling guilty over that asshole because he doesn’t deserve it.”

You chewed on your lip as he ran his eyes over your face, and when he was about to kiss you again, you shook your head.

“You should go. Sarah was right, Rafe could be back at any moment, and… That’s not a fight I think I’ll ever be ready for,” you sighed, moving from between him and the counter.

JJ seemed reluctant, but he eventually obliged, grazing his hand along your waist on the way out.

Rafe’s light snores grew quieter the moment you closed the door behind you.

He’d come to your house drunk and stumbling, too wasted to even fuck you—although it wasn’t for lack of trying. Naturally, he wouldn’t hear a word you said about drunk driving, waving you off and laughing in your face. After his second failed attempt to stay awake, he merely rolled off of you, his even breathing reaching your ears only moments later.

You’d pulled your knees up to your chest, eyeing him for the longest time and mulling over your conversation with JJ. You knew that the other blond wasn’t wrong. Rafe had done—and would do—much worse to you. Your relationship wasn’t a relationship, at all, but instead a prison, and maybe you shouldn’t feel guilty for finding some semblance of happiness. No matter where it came from.

Once alcohol knocked Rafe out, he was pretty much dead to the world for hours.

…and that was how you found yourself putting on shoes while he slept. You might’ve been more nervous and scared if you weren’t so in tune with Rafe’s patterns. There was no doubt in your mind that he wouldn’t wake up until at least noon the following day, but you still kept your steps light as you made your way down the stairs. You couldn’t stop your heart from racing, and your fingers shook while you disabled the alarm.

The walk across the lawn felt too long, and if you hadn’t already psyched yourself up, you might’ve turned around and went back inside the house. Out of paranoia, you looked over your shoulder, relieved to see that your room was still dark with no sign of movement in the window. JJ didn’t open the door right away when you knocked.

However, once fatigue faded a bit, and he realized that it was indeed you through the cracked door, he was swinging it open and pulling you inside.

“I just…wanted to sleep here for a few hours I guess,” you murmured, still feeling unsure.

JJ shifted on his feet, and you only then noticed his bare chest. The plaid pants he wore hung low on his hips, and you told yourself you weren’t here for anything like that.

“…and Rafe…?”

“So drunk that not even an earthquake could wake him,” you said with a shrug.

JJ pulled his lip between his teeth, eyeing you with a look that was hard to name. He didn’t respond right away, just staring at you and studying you. His light hair was going every which way, some hanging into his face, and one hand ran through it when the other eventually reached for you.

“I’m glad you came,” he whispered, pulling you to him.

The pool house wasn’t as big as others you’d seen—namely some of your former friends—but it was spacious enough for both a living room and a decent sized bedroom. JJ’s hand was tight on yours as he pulled you through the threshold, and you glanced around, recalling that you hadn’t been inside the bedroom since high school. The bedding was askew, obviously lived in, and you were glad your parents barely paid the building any mind outside of the yearly spring cleaning.

“Do you like staying here?” you asked him, sitting on the edge of the bed.

JJ found that funny.

“If you’d ever seen my place, you’d know how crazy that question is,” he told you, plopping down beside you. “I love staying here.”

His face was close to yours.

“…and not just because of the 100 thread count sheets or whatever.”

He shrugged at you, eyebrows waggling, and you fought back a smile.

“I guess I’ll have to see your place to give me some perspective then.”

His own smile twitched, and you didn’t like the way his face fell a bit.

“Nah,” he breathed. “That’s…not something I want you to see.”

You felt your own face fall.

“…I mean, I know things with your father are pretty…ugly, but it’s where you grew up, isn’t it?”

Your tone was a little hopeful, and you watched JJ watch you. His blue eyes shined in the darkness, and you didn’t miss the way his smile grew again. When he reached for your face, he let out a light laugh.

“Yeah…yeah it is where I grew up,” he confirmed. “I guess you’re right about that.”

He pulled you with him as he laid down, and you faced him on your side.

“We’ll have to find some way to get you back to The Cut then,” he whispered.

At the reminder of your last visit, you both grew quiet. You were sure you both were remembering that morning when Rafe came to pick you up, and you recalled your next reunion with JJ, feeling comforted that he was so worried about you the entire time. As if thinking of the exact same thing, he touched the skin under your eye, and before you could say anything, JJ leaned in to touch it with his lips.

“I really hate that you’re with him,” he said after a while, pulling away. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

You took a deep breath at that, reaching out and touching his arm, thoughtful.

“…and you do…?”

When you lifted your gaze, your eyes met his again.

“I like to think that I do,” he murmured, fingers dancing towards your chin.

JJ pulled you into a kiss, and despite the fact that this wasn’t what you snuck out of the house for, you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach flipped. In this moment, JJ felt like your boyfriend—lying in bed with you and talking to you and kissing you. It was the most relaxed you’d felt in bed for a long time, and you knew it was a feeling you could get used to…and have trouble going without.

“What are we doing?” you found yourself whispering in the darkness.

You looked between his eyes as you asked this.

“Rafe’s…asleep in my bedroom…and I…” you scoffed. “I’m here with you.”

“It’s sexy, isn’t it…”

“JJ,” you sighed. “I’m serious. Like…what are we doing?”

You were sure that your worry was all over your face.

“We don’t have to have an answer for that, right now,” was his response, hand touching your waist. “I just want to help you forget about Rafe, sometimes.”

He kissed you again.

“I want you to be with someone you don’t have to be afraid of,” he murmured against your lips. “Someone you can relax with.”

He pulled you closer, rolling you both, and when he rested on top of you, you pressed your hands to his arms.

“JJ, I don’t… I’m not comfortable with anything like that yet.”

Your lips brushed his as you spoke, and you swallowed.

“Kissing you and sneaking around to talk to you is one thing, but…”

You didn’t know why, but going beyond that in any way would make what you were doing seem too real—too deceptive. JJ didn’t seem to care about that though, pressing his lips to yours again.

“Do you trust me?” he wondered into the kiss.

“Yes, but-.”

“…but what?” his nose touched yours as he pulled back, holding your gaze. “You’re just scared because Rafe’s intimidated you and beaten you down so much that you’re afraid to do anything for yourself.”

Was that the root of it? It was true, of course, but you also still felt uncomfortable.

“I don’t know…”

“Hasn’t Rafe also been the only guy you’ve ever been with?”

You gave a reluctant nod, and JJ smiled at you.

“…and you don’t think that has something to do with it? You being scared of what you don’t know…?”

That was also true, and JJ took your silence as consent, kissing you again as his hand trailed down your frame. You made a slight noise of protest when his hand slipped between your thighs, Rafe’s t-shirt riding up. The blond on top of you swallowed it down, refusing to break the kiss, and you jerked when his fingers brushed over your underwear.

“JJ,” you said when you turned your head away, pushing at his arm.

“It’s okay,” he breathed against your cheek. “Trust me.”

When you looked at him again, his fingers were already tracing circles over where your opening was through the fabric. His blond hair touched your forehead.

“I would never hurt you,” he assured you, more pressure from his fingers, now.

You involuntarily lifted your hips, and you didn’t know if it was to push him away or get closer. You wanted to push him away, not quite okay with taking things this far just yet. In truth, you didn’t know if you’d ever be, and you thought about what JJ said. Maybe you were just scared, but did you fix that by pushing yourself to do something you weren’t ready for?

You supposed it didn’t matter, anyway.

JJ’s fingers were circling your clit, panties resting on his hand as he touched you. His lips trailed kisses along your neck, and without thinking, you threw your head back. You forgot all about Rafe who was knocked out drunk in your bed, none the wiser to JJ’s fingers sliding between your lower lips. You could feel genuine excitement, something you hadn’t felt in a long time, and you sighed when he dragged his fingers between your folds.

You could tell that JJ was being mindful of whatever lasting damage there still might be from last week.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, lips at the corner of your mouth. “…and wet.”

You shuddered at those words and the feel of the tips of his fingers just barely dipping into you before he pulled them out.

“Do you get this wet for Rafe?”

The mention of your boyfriend had your heart skipping a beat, but the feel of JJ’s fingers massaging your soaking cunt had you answering honestly.

“No,” you breathed, and you felt him smirk against your skin.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” he confessed.

“JJ,” you warned, hand on his wrist.

“I know,” he sighed. “I know, but a guy can dream.”

You pulled your lip between your teeth.

“I think about it a lot…pushing my cock into you and watching you stretch around me…”

When you softly moaned at that, JJ hummed.

“Do you think about it too? About milking me dry?”

You clenched around nothing, aching as he circled his fingers.

“…because I do…especially in his bed,” you dug your nails into his skin. “Fucking you until you come on his sheets, letting me fill you up right where he sleeps.”

You gently shuddered, your orgasm washing over you as you wrapped your other arm around him. JJ rode the wave with you, fingers rubbing against you, playing with you as you soaked them.

“Atta girl,” he whispered against your lips, and you felt slightly disbelieving at what had just occurred.

The proof was smeared on the inside of your thighs, but even when you watched JJ place his fingers into his mouth, it still didn’t feel real. JJ wouldn’t let you go as you caught your breath, kissing you again when you finally did.

“See,” he quietly told you. “That wasn’t so bad.”

He may have been right in some aspects, but JJ’s way around words and that tempting influence of his had you worried about what else you’d convince yourself you wanted.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Snow Angel

Cregan's Version

I'll angel in the snow until I'm worthy but if it kills me, I tried.

Gwyane's Version ❄ Daemon's Version ❄ Aegon's Version ❄ Aemond's Version ❄ Jacaerys' Version ❄ Cregan's Version ❄ Criston's Version

Cregan Stark x Reader | 900< | cw: fem!reader, angst, blood, injuries, death, typos, etc.

A/N: renee rapp my beloved

Cregan did not wed you because he was drawn by your bright eyes. He did not wed you because your smile could melt a hole through the ice that held up the Wall. No, he wed you because your house and his were long strained, and taking you as his wife would ensure peace between you.

He wed you because it was his duty, though he could not deny that he would soon come to love you for the prior things mentioned. But how could he, when it was never brought up?

As far as anyone knew, as far as you knew, your husband did you well simply because he was your husband.

Being the youngest of your family, you were rather neglected. You knew little beyond entertaining yourself and others with simple humor and preposterous ideas. Winterfell would come to adore the warmth that was borne from the coldness of your youth. They would do the same in how easily amused their lady was of the Northern coldness.

You loved the snow, but were fundamentally useless in it, knowing nothing beyond making snowmen. You knew not how to start a fire, nor build a tent; you did not know which flora to forage either, much less how to hunt.

Cregan did not fault you for it, for it was not your fault you were not taught. But he did not appreciate how you took more importance in chatting with his men than learning these skills; he tells you as much.

"But what you ask of me is your job," you simply respond, "mine is to keep the spirits lifted."

He huffs, breath turning into fog, "it would do you well to learn. What if there is no fire and no one who knew how to make one?"

"Then I ask if you plan to leave me to fend for myself, my lord?"

He tilts his head, jaw muscle feathering in offence, "do you think so little of me?"

"I thank the gods daily for supplying me with such a reliable husband," you smile, "and I pray the day will never come that I need to fend for myself."

Part of him is endeared by your darling naiveté, another is frustrated by it. He figures if he cannot convince you to learn, then he will make nature your teacher.

He instructs one of the servants to take you berry picking and to leave you somewhere that is not too close but not too far from Winterfell. The servant obeys her lord and does just that. She slips away from you through the foliage, making sure to leave you any tools or weapons you would need.

You were left completely unware, treading deeper and deeper into the forest, following where the berry bushes went. You were too wrapped up in your singing to realize you were completely alone.

That is until you heard a wolf howling.

You did not know where you were going. You did not know which way was North or South or which way Winterfell laid. All you knew was you wanted to go home with your basket of berries, but that seemed impossible when you dropped them into the ground with a deafening scream. Your leg had been snagged into something. You writhe in pain, finding your shin caught in the jaw of a bear trap. Your hot tears turn into frost and your breath grows shorter and shorter in panic.

Cregan was not one to worry. He patiently waited for you by the gates of your home, anticipating that you'd be the next one to come around. But it was never you… and then, it started to snow.

He calls a search party for you. He hears many a man call out your name as the night begins to take the forest. At the same time, the ground became slowly whiter and whiter while his worry thickened at a more rapid pace. Soon, his hair and shoulders were frosted over and his source of light no longer came from the sky but a torch in his hand.

"MY LORD!"

Cregan perks and run towards the man calling for him. He quickly reaches him and looks around for you, but you stood nowhere. He sees the man remove his fur hat and lower his gaze.

By the old gods.

He drops to his knees. The snow scatters, revealing the red that laid underneath. He brushes off your body, rigid and cold. He releases a horrified sound at the sight of your mangled leg. He cradles you in his arms and rushes you back home.

The maesters assure him you were still breathing and that there was hope for you yet. They might save your life, but you would lose your leg.

Cregan laments as the maesters operate on you. He seeks absolution by the weirwood tree and vows to serve you ardently, more ardently so long as your life is spared.

For a moment, the old gods looked upon Cregan Stark. They delivered his wife. You lived… if you could call it that.

You wake up to the face of your husband who immediately weeps at your side, begging you for your forgiveness. You clutch his cheek and tell him, "there is nothing to forgive."

But there is, and he would never forgive himself for how you never smiled at the snow again, or how you died midday as children made snow angels outside your window.

[elfy-elf-imagines]

Tolerate It | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Human!Reader

▹ Genre: Angst

▹ Words: ~2k

▹ Summary: A political alliance makes you the new wife of the elven king Thranduil, trapping you in a gilded cage of elven craft.

▹ Notes: I couldn't get this idea out of my head.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The banquet hall of Eryn Galen was buzzing with high energy. 

The lights were bright, the drinks flowing. Each guest was too deep in their cups as the band played jaunty tunes that kept spirits high. You sat at the end of the table, to the direct right of Thranduil, Legolas seated directly across from you to the king's left. 

Everything was beautiful, similar to what you imagined heaven may look like. The celebration had been highly anticipated, the steward meticulously planning for months to ensure the night would be perfect. 

Each guest had dressed to the nines, and you had been no exception. Silks that flowed like a languid river, braids woven throughout your hair, and glittering jewels that rivaled the stars in the sky. You’d felt quite pretty after your handmaidens finished, taking in your appearance with rapt attention. 

Yet as the king - your husband - met with you, he barely paid you more than a glance. Not a single compliment or acknowledgment slipped from his lips, just the stiff offering of his arm and a cold demeanor you’d never been able to break through.

Not even the bitterness of the red wine you drank could ease the pain festering inside you. You glanced at Thranduil, his attention on his steward whispering something in his ear. Regal and commanding, you’d thought marriage to the elven king would be something out of a fairytale. Yet your story became twisted, and instead of a happy ending, you were trapped in a doomed marriage. It was like a wall separated you from him; you’d tirelessly beat against it with a hammer; Thranduil was on the other end, reinforcing the stone. 

You glanced down at your dress, the pale green fabric, Thranduil’s favorite shade. Even still, you were desperate for his validation and approval, like a child tugging at their father’s sleeves. A stray hair fell in front of your face, and you pushed it behind your ear, hands ghosting over your rounded ears. Maybe if you’d been an elf and not a human, he might view you as an equal and not a consolation prize. 

One hand below the table closed into a tight fist while you downed the rest of your wine in one gulp. 

Legolas met your eye from across the table with an almost apologetic grin. You returned it with a tight smile you tried to make pleasant. Legolas knew all too well the neglect his father could inflict, so he often preferred the forests over the palace. There was an understanding that made your pain more bearable. 

The handmaidens you brought from home and your stepson, who was older than your eldest living relatives, were all that kept you from falling into true despair. 

Like clockwork, a servant filled your chalice, and you gladly drank. This wine was sweeter and less sharp than the red you were expecting. Once again, you looked towards Thranduil, no longer speaking with his steward but quietly watching the party play out. You reached out, delicately placing your hand over his, only for his to push it away, not bothering to pay you a glance. 

The blatant rejection stung, always taking up too much space and time. Would Thranduil even notice if you’d stolen away into the night? If you pulled the dagger your marriage embedded in you, breaking free and leaving this miserable life behind. What might it be like to shed the weight of Thranduil’s cold disposition and an overly suspicious, judgmental, elvish kingdom? You’d be free and weightless for the first time in years. 

Yet, just as soon as the fantasies came, they fizzled out with the weight of reality. You had no money of your own, no survival skills, and nowhere to go. If you returned home, your father would ship you back to Thranduil. The dark forests and the creatures that lurked within would kill you. There was nowhere to go. No freedom to be found. 

You didn’t bother hiding the frown on your lips; no one in the room paid you much mind. They looked through you as if you were a phantom that clung to the residence of its former life. How was it possible to be in such a crowded room and yet still be so alone?

"How much longer do you believe this will go on for?"

At some point, Legolas had moved from across the table and was now seated to your left, watching the crowded room with thinly veiled discomfort.

" I hope for not much longer. I've never been amendable to crowds so large as this one."

Legolas laughed, the noise swallowed by the noise of the room. "And yet you are queen; should you not be used to such raucous parties?"

You tilted your glass towards him, a slight quirk on your lips.

"I could say the same about you, prince."

He nodded in silent agreement, quickly drinking from his glass, which you noticed was filled with water and not wine.

"I get to run off to the forest. How do you deal with all of this?" The smile on your face fell as your eyes dimmed, a reminder of your current standing.

"No one pays me mind. A blessing, I suppose." You attempted to laugh it off, but you couldn't keep the somberness from your tone. You were trapped in a gilded cage, a prisoner in your own home.

"Then I suppose I'll need to take more respites in the castle."

"You don't need--"

"I insist; what kind of friend would I be if I didn't check on your wellbeing."

So warm and inviting, it made you wonder how Legolas could be the son of Thranduil; he must take after his mother. You wondered, if only for a moment, how different your life might be if you'd been married to Legolas instead of his father. He was the more age appropriate option and if he didn't love you he'd at least respect you. But those thoughts were pointless; you'd been married to Thranduil and not Legolas.

"I think I'm technically your stepmother."

"But you feel more like a friend."

You didn't bother to argue, placing down your wine chalice to take a cool water drink. It was refreshing, soothing the burn the wine had created.

"Then I am glad we are friends."

Before he could respond, a member of his guard called his name. The elf enthusiastically waved him over, yelling something in elvish too slurred for you to understand.

Legolas shook his head, refusing the call, but you placed a single hand on his shoulder.

"Go, enjoy the night. I'll be fine over here."

He tried to discern if you were being dishonest but found nothing but sincerity. Just because you were miserable didn't mean he should be. With a single nod, Legolas left the table to join the group forming in the corner of the room.

Left in the chaos with no one to speak with, you picked up the chalice with wine. At some point during your conversation, Thranduil wandered off, talking with some of the higher-ranking nobles.

Thickly, you swallowed, hiding your face as you slowly drank from your glass.

When would this torment end?

---

The night dragged on at an impossibly slow speed. Your sorrow brought time to a near halt. By the time the crowd began to thin and Thranduil had escorted you back to your shared chambers, you’d forgotten how many glasses of wine you consumed. You managed to keep your composure and pride, not letting you show how light and lethargic the alcohol made you. 

Now, you sat before your vanity, preparing for bed as did Thranduil. There were so many pins placed in your hair that you struggled to pull them out without ripping your hair. Your head throbbed, and your frustration was building; you just wanted sleep. A cold hand pushed yours away, tangling in your hair. With practiced and fluid movements, Thranduil began to take down your hair. He was quick and efficient, his hands in your hair almost soothing.

The action was oddly domestic, and it caused a pang of pain in your chest. If the gods had been fair enough to bless you with a husband who loved you, this would be a nightly occurrence, not a rare show of care. 

“There’s too many pins in your hair.” Always critical; nothing would ever be good enough. 

A beat of silence passed; did he even want you to speak?

“It was a special occasion; I wanted something different done to my hair.” 

Clink. He placed the last pin on the table and stepped away from you.

“It was a bit gauche.”

Expression tight, you stared at your reflection, focused on your dark hair that tangled too quickly and your nearly pallid complexion. Gauche and graceless, the elves would never view you as their own. 

“I thought it looked nice.” 

His answer was to silently turn his back to you, moving to the other end of the room. The silence was maddening. Your attention never moved from your reflection, lips downturned as your eyes hardened. Pain turned to rage, pity becoming an all-consuming fire that threatened to turn all in your wake to ash. 

“Why marry me?” Your tone was harsh, firmer than you could remember speaking.

Thranduil let out a sigh, seemingly annoyed at your mere presence. Normally, his disregard made you shrink, and maybe it was the wine, but it only made you straighten your back, meeting his eyes through his reflection in your mirror. 

“To seal an alliance with your kingdom, you know this.” He was always condescending; he was so much older and wiser. 

“I understand political marriages, but why marry me? You’ve managed political alliances without offering your hand in marriage; you even have a son to marry off. So why--” You slowly stood from your chair, turning to face him directly. “-marry me?”

“Would you have preferred to marry Legolas?” 

“I’d prefer you answer my question. So I’ll ask once more: why marry me?” You strode towards him, eyes narrowed.

“To ensure an alliance with your family.”

“That is it? For no reason other than that.”

Thranduil looked down at you, his lips tight.

“Did you hope to hear differently?” He tilted his head, eyes ice cold and bitter. “Ours was a marriage of convenience, not love.”

You clenched your jaw, swallowing thickly. All of it for nothing, a marriage he knew would never succeed. He may have been content with a loveless life after the passing of his wife, but he knowingly dragged you into it. To turn your life into a void--

You wanted to scream, to yell obscenities at him, to spit all the vile venom his careless behavior filled you with. But it would do no good. An emotional breakdown wouldn’t mend your rift; there was no foundation of respect to rebuild. It was just endless nothingness. Standing at the precipice, you would simply fall into a never-ending pit. 

“I see.”

A hint of shock made his eyes widen a fraction, expecting an outburst like the one you fantasized about. Humans weren’t known for patience, yet it wasn’t patience that kept you silent. It was dejection; you'd given up hope of anything better than what you had.

You dared not move, not even blink until Thranduil turned towards the door.

“I think I will ensure the keep is secured. Goodnight.” 

Head turned, yet your eyes remained where he once stood; you remained silent. The door opened and quietly shut behind his retreating form. Only then did you exhale the breath you’d been holding. 

The bed was plush under your body, and the comforter was like a cloud, yet you’d never felt more miserable. You turned your back to the side Thranduil would take when he returned to the chambers. Eyes shut, soothed by the darkness, you dreamed of something more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Tags: @jmablurry | @lunatichaotiche | @aearonnin | @emiliessketches | @vibratingbones | @moony-artnstuff | @ranhanabi777 | @kenobiguacamole | @ceinelee | @thranduil | @samnblack | @abbiesthings | @Strangebananabatranch | @bitter--fruit | @keijibum | @lifestylesleep | @themerriweathermage | @im-a-muggleborn | @sweetheart-syndrome | @boyruins | @AwkwardBecomesYou | @delyeceamaitare

[cherryl4na]

❥•°❀"bricks, bytes and bonds"

abstract || lando is streaming as the to of you build legos.

female!reader || cute. fluff. lando in love. 1.3k words

The soft glow of the computer screen illuminated Lando's face as he sat comfortably in his gaming chair, headphones snug over his ears. His fans eagerly tuned in, their messages flooding the chat with excitement and anticipation. Among them was you, the person who made his heart race with every smile and every shared moment.

"Hey everyone!" Lando greeted, his voice warm and cheerful. "Today's stream is gonna be a bit different. I've got someone special joining me." He winked at the camera, causing a flurry of delighted reactions from his viewers.

You appeared on screen, settling into the seat beside him, a large box of Lego bricks between you two. Lando's smile widened as he introduced you, his eyes gleaming with affection. "This is my girlfriend as you all know," he said, "and today, we're gonna build the awesome McLaren Formula 1 car together!"

The chat exploded with emojis and supportive messages, everyone thrilled to see Lando sharing this moment with you. You exchanged a playful grin, fingers already digging into the collection of colorful bricks. Lando picked up the instruction manual, his voice animated as he began guiding the both of you through the build.

"So, darling," Lando began, his voice teasing, "are you ready to witness my amazing Lego-building skills?"

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. "I think I might just surprise you, Lando."

The banter flowed effortlessly as you worked together, occasionally stealing glances at each other that spoke volumes more than words ever could. Lando's chat became a mix of admiration for the Lego set and endless questions about your relationship. Through it all, Lando remained composed, occasionally leaning closer to you to show something in the instructions or to share a whispered comment that made you blush.

As the build progressed, you found yourself engrossed in the intricate details of the McLaren F1 Lego set, each piece fitting snugly into place under your careful guidance. Lando couldn't help but admire the way you approached the task with a mix of focus and joy. Your fingers moved swiftly, deftly navigating the instructions, occasionally pausing to inspect a piece or exchange a playful remark with him.

Lando leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you with unabashed admiration. As you delicately placed each piece of the McLaren F1 Lego set, his heart swelled with affection. The way your concentration furrowed your brow slightly, the way your hands moved with purpose—it was enchanting to him.

His fans noticed the shift in his demeanor, their comments in the chat taking on a slightly different tone, teasing Lando gently about his focus on you rather than the Lego build. Lando chuckled, unable to hide his smile as he glanced briefly at the chat before returning his gaze to you.

"You're incredible, you know that?" Lando murmured, his voice low and filled with sincerity.

You looked up from the instructions, caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. A blush crept onto your cheeks as you met his eyes, finding nothing but warmth and admiration reflected back at you. "Thanks, Lando," you replied softly, your heart fluttering at his words.

He leaned closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "I mean it," he continued, his breath brushing against your lips. "I love watching you in your element."

Your breath caught in your throat, the closeness of his touch sending shivers down your spine. It wasn't just his words—it was the way he looked at you, as if you were the most fascinating person in the world, the way his smile softened into something tender and genuine.

Unable to resist any longer, Lando leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. It was gentle and filled with all the unspoken feelings that had been building between you throughout the stream. The world seemed to fade away for that brief moment, leaving just the two of you and the warmth of your connection.

When he pulled back, Lando's eyes searched yours, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. "I love you," he said softly, his voice filled with pride. The microphone had still picked up his words, the chat beginning to go crazy at the sweet moment between the two of you. Looking into his gorgeous eyes, with a soft giggle, you reply, “I love you too, Lando,” before getting back to building the Lego.

Hours passed in what felt like minutes, the Lego set nearly complete. Lando glanced at the clock, his eyes widening in surprise. "Wow, time flies when you're having fun, huh?"

You nodded, smiling at him warmly. "Definitely. Thanks for letting me join your stream, Lando. This has been amazing."

Lando beamed, his hand finding yours atop the finished Lego model. "No, thank you for being here," he said sincerely, his voice soft amidst the backdrop of his lively chat. "I always have the best time when I'm with you, love."

The chat erupted in a chorus of 'awws' and heart emojis, showering you both with virtual love and support. Lando leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. He proceeds to leave a soft kiss on your cheek before he turns back to the camera, his smile wide and content.

"Well, ladies and gents," he announced, his voice filled with happiness, "that's all for today's stream and I hope you all enjoyed us building and talking to you all. Thanks for hanging out with us! My girlfriend and I are gonna sign off now, but I'll catch you all maybe on the next stream. Who knows, she might be a guest again."

And with that, the screen faded to black as Lando shut down the stream and then the computer. The room around you grew quiet, filled only with the soft hum of the equipment settling into sleep mode. You leaned into Lando's side, feeling a rush of warmth and affection as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

"That was so amazing and fun," you whispered, your voice filled with genuine admiration.

Lando pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment. "Not as amazing as you," he replied softly, his voice tinged with warmth.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with love. "You're such a charmer," you teased, unable to resist a playful smile.

He grinned back, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "Only when I'm around someone who brings out the best in me," he admitted, his tone sincere.

The room felt cozy and intimate, the air thick with unspoken affection and the shared joy of the day's activities. You nestled closer to Lando, feeling his heartbeat steady and comforting against your side. His fingers brushed lightly against yours, a silent promise of togetherness and support.

As you both sat there in quiet contentment, surrounded by the remnants of the Lego build and the warmth of each other's presence, you knew that this moment would be one you'd cherish forever. It wasn't just about the Lego set or the stream—it was about the bond that had deepened and blossomed between you, a connection that felt like coming home.

"Thank you for today," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper but filled with gratitude.

Lando turned to you, his eyes soft and filled with love. "No, thank you," he replied sincerely. "For being you."

You leaned in and captured his lips in a gentle kiss, a silent affirmation of everything you felt in that moment—love, gratitude, and a sense of belonging. The distractions of the outside world around you, drifted into nothing but peace as you melted into each other's embrace, the loving wholesome sweetness of the moment wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

And in that quiet, perfect moment, with nothing but the beating of your hearts and the promise of tomorrow's adventures ahead, you knew that building the McLaren F1 Lego set together had created something far more precious—a love story that would continue to grow with every brick and every kiss shared. Building Legos together might have been the highlight of your day, but being with him made it unforgettable.

an || okay this one was really cute to write honestly. it's such a contrast to my previous ones haha. anyways, as usual, i hope you enjoyed and till the next one!

©2024 cherryl4na. - please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission.

[targaryen-dynasty]

WILDEST DREAMS.

Modern!Aegon II Targaryen x pregnant!Reader

Neither of you would have thought you‘d ever end up like this — dating for hardly a year and you pregnant with Aegon‘s child. Yet he still has another surprise up his sleeve.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; p in v, pregnant sex, pregnancy, lactation kink, semi public sex, daddy kink, breeding kink, praise kink

WORDS: 3.5 K

NOTES: Thanks to @lovelykhaleesiii for this amazing request! This can be read as part of the Mine and Mine only universe. 🤭

White Harbor has never looked more peaceful than it does at this moment. 

Just two days ago, the sky above the harbor was lit up by fireworks with thousands of people watching, and now the only lights you can see are the ones on the docked boats, and the street lights and buildings surrounding the harbor. 

Instead of a formal dinner with his friends, just like he has celebrated every year, Aegon has chosen to invite his younger siblings and their respective families to White Harbor to celebrate the New Year, renting a penthouse overlooking the impressive harbor. It was meant to be a trip no longer than three days, however, all parties involved have quickly decided that it would be better to extend the trip by a few more.

You and Aegon have been dating for hardly a year, meeting by chance in the very same spot you sit in right now, and, after you have found out that you both live in King’s Landing, decided to enter a situationship because you enjoyed each other’s company but weren’t looking for something serious. 

Until he got you pregnant by accident. 

After you both agreed to keep the child, you could swear you had spotted a few tears brimming in his eyes as you handed him the positive pregnancy test, you could observe from day to day how he became more and more absorbed in the father’s role. 

You’re seven months pregnant by now, and, except for the ridiculous amount of milk your body already provides for the child, you have little to no symptoms. The child has been moving quite a bit ever since you’ve hit the six month mark, but you have gotten used to it by now. 

Aegon’s arm is draped over the back of your chair with his fingers drawing mindless patterns along your upper arm, and you two bask in each other’s company and the silence surrounding you. You’re nursing your second glass of non-alcoholic wine, one hand resting on the swell of your bump and feeling the kicks of your child. 

While your eyes are fixed on the tv in the adjoining living room, the Disney movie still running that was meant to keep Helaena’s children occupied during dinner, Aegon has his eyes solely locked on you, watching you gently caress your protruding bump. 

He places his hand over yours, the sudden warmth prompting you to meet his loving gaze. 

You lean into his embrace, and he presses a chaste kiss to your temple, before you nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck, inhaling his all too familiar, comforting scent. 

“You know they won’t come back, right?” you ask, voice slightly muffled because of the position of your face. 

Aemond and his wife left two hours ago to feed their little boy and bring him to bed, and have not returned ever since to do God-knows-what. Helaena and Cregan were a bit more persistent with both their children occupied by the television, before they eventually departed to bring them to bed, too. 

That left Aegon and you all by yourself without the hurry to get to bed. 

He chuckles at your words. “I figured as much,” he says, pinching your chin to bring your lips up to his. “We have this evening all to ourselves now.”

Knowing exactly what he is hinting at, your eyes take over a half-lidded gaze almost immediately, your hormones having you feel positively bubbly.

“And I suppose there are plenty of ways we can entertain ourselves in the meantime,” you purr against his lips, pecking them once. He has parted his lips when you pull back, clearly having anticipated you to deepen the kiss and not pull away after just one chaste peck. 

A growl rumbles in his chest as he’s figured out your teasing, and his voice is husky when he speaks again, “are there now?”

His eyes spark with the joy of mischief at his own words, sending a shiver straight down your spine. 

Aegon’s hand drops lower onto your hip, drawing you closer to him to the point you have to get up to straddle his lap. Just at the sight of the pregnant you climbing him, he could feel his crotch growing tighter, much more at the realization that it was his seed doing this to you.  

The skirt of your dress rides up your thighs as you make yourself comfortable to accommodate the space your bump creates. The fabric rucks up just below your belly, and your bare skin is too inviting for your boyfriend not to rub his hands up and down the outsides of your thighs. 

You rest your hands on his shoulders, and lean in to connect your lips with his. Aegon meets the kiss with passion, his arms snaking around your frame to pull you closer. Your lips press together with urgency, your tongues exploring each other’s mouths. 

You run your fingers through his short, silver curls and hold him tight to you as the kiss deepens. You’re both eager to get as close as possible to each other, and you feel the evidence of your proximity and his desire pressing against your clothed and swollen pussy. 

Aegon draws back slightly, and you chase his lips for another kiss. It was passionate but short-lived with him lowering his head to kiss your jaw. 

He caresses the swell of your belly as he trails his lips to your neck, shoulder and then your collarbone. You whimper and whine at the heat on your skin that follows his lips, tilting your head to the side to grant him even more access. 

Teasingly slow, he hooks his index finger beneath the strap of your dress and drags it down your shoulder, completely unphased as he starts to nibble your skin. He proceeds to do the same with the other strap, letting them dangle in the cooks of your elbows with your arms bent.

He brushes his hand over the side of your bump up to your heavy breast, cupping it through the fabric. “You haven’t worn a bra all day long,” he rasps against your collar bone, looking up at you with dark blown eyes. “Such a little minx. Bet you didn’t even think about how badly I would have to hold myself back, huh?”

The touch to your breast sends a tremble through your body, and you arch your back into it. Biting your lip as you look down at him, you whisper teasingly, though there is a hint of glee audible in your words, “not one second.”

His piercing blue eyes widen for a moment, the true meaning behind your words slowly settling. When he squeezes your breast, you tug on his hair in return, causing him to groan, and with his head already tilted up, he presses his lips to your jaw. 

“You’re a very, very naughty girl… mommy.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks, and his words make your body hum with desire. 

You lick your lips, and bow your head to meet his, kissing him deeply. You start to grind over his clothed cock, eliciting sharp and heavy breaths from him and quiet whines from yourself whenever your lips parted for air. 

Resting your forehead against his, you rub your hands over his shoulders, squeezing them. “Mommy can be very naughty,” you say, pecking his lips once. “If she gets what she wants…”

“And what does she want?” The grin he has on his lips is perfectly audible, you don’t even have to see it. He knows all too well what you’re going to say, he just wants to hear it.

“You, daddy.”

You can tell he’s taken by surprise at the nickname, since you’ve never used it with him before, his eyes widen as he pulls back to regard you. But nevertheless, a low groan leaves his lips. 

Having always been insatiable and hungry for each other, it’s no surprise which direction it all takes when Aegon cups your ass and lifts you up to carefully sit you down on the table, standing between your parted legs. You bury your fingers in the hairs on the back of his neck again, and watch him carefully.

“Say that again.”

With a cheeky grin on your lips, your eyes visibly trail from his to his lips and then down to his crotch, the bulge perfectly visible. “Daddy,” you reply to the command, innocently batting your eyelashes at him. 

Aegon groans again, and when his hands tug on the front of your dress, you shimmy out of the straps to allow him to free your full breasts. It’s impossible for him to tear his eyes off of them, watching mesmerized how your nipples harden as the chill air hits them. 

You don’t even have to say anything for him to lean in and wrap his lips around one bud, skipping the teasing to suck on it immediately, swallowing your milk like a man starved. The stimulation and relief it brings has your back arching once again, all but shoving your breasts against his lips and into his hand. 

He’s pinching your other nipple between his fingers, coaxing drops of your milk to dribble down the curve of your breast while his lips greedily lap at your other. 

“Fuck,” you mewl, scratching your fingers over his scalp in a comforting manner. 

Aegon’s spurred on by the way your body writhes beneath his touch and your legs clamp around his hips, locking him in and prompting him to rut his hard cock against your clothed pussy. 

But as much as you yearn for the relief his lips bring you, the aching between your legs is too much and needs to be soothed by him. 

“I need you, Aeg,” you whine, grinding yourself against his hard-on. 

A deep groan rumbles in his chest at your words, stoking the already blazing need you have for each other. To your surprise, he pulls back from your breast with a pop, a string of saliva connecting your hard bud and his swollen lips. 

They are curled into a smug smirk, the expression that so often blesses his chiseled features. “What was that?” 

You sigh, biting your bottom lip to suppress the urge to roll your eyes. You know what he wants to hear. “I need you… daddy.”

Like a man possessed, Aegon pushes the skirt of your dress up and reveals your cotton panties. You haven’t worn thongs in ages, and he’s used to them by now, though it took him some while. 

Noticing the damp spot in the center of them, Aegon scoffs. “God, fuck, how I‘ve missed you,“ he husks, his eyes solely focused on the outlines of your swollen folds against the cotton. He‘s not talking to you, obviously. “So eager to be filled by me, baby, mh?”

He fists the fabric between his fingers and just rips it apart as if it‘s nothing, briefly meeting your pouting gaze. “I’ll buy you prettier ones,” he replies. 

His hands curl around your thighs to pull you closer towards the edge of the table, and you lean back and prop yourself on your hands, watching almost eagerly as he undoes the zipper of his pants and pulls out his cock. The tip is covered in an angry red, beads of pre cum glistening at the slit, looking all too painful and begging for relief. 

Fisting the base of his cock, he drags it through your swollen folds, soaking it in your arousal before he presses the tip against your entrance, meeting resistance. You brace yourself for the delicious stretch, and release a shuddered breath when he finally breeches your hole. 

Aegon doesn’t know where to look and touch you. Every inch of your body looks far too inviting, and he’s sure he could cum just knowing that he’s the one responsible for the swelling of your body. The half lidded gaze you flash at him doesn’t help either, driving him mad. 

A husky groan slips past his lips as your walls squeeze him ever so tightly, throbbing and twitching as you choke him like a vice. “Fuck, keep squeezing me like that and I’m not gonna last long,” he rasps. 

One hand comes up to grope at your breast, while the other rests on the swell of your bump, splaying over it. 

As he pulls his hips back, you wrap your legs around them in a fruitless effort to force him back into you, but he is stronger and merely keeps the tip of his cock inside of you. 

“So eager to have me inside of you?” he teases, and your reply dies on your tongue as he thrusts sharply back into you. 

There’s a suppressed urgency in the way Aegon snaps his hips into yours so quickly and harshly, repeatedly bullying the sweet spot inside of you that makes you putty in his hands. The vigorous pace of his pounding leaves you scrambling for support, and you opt to prop yourself up on your elbows instead of your hands to steady yourself. 

Your head tilts back, and your mouth falls open, but you quickly clamp it shut to stop any wanton moans to fall from your lips. You can’t risk being too loud, as you don’t want anyone in the bedrooms far down the hallway to hear what you’re up to. 

The pleasure envelops you, and when you look at him, you spot him biting his bottom lip harshly, clearly struggling with staying quiet just as much as you do. What seems to distract him at least a bit is the way your breasts jiggle each time his hips meet yours, sending tremors through your body. 

Toe curling pleasure overtakes your body, and you can’t help but fondle the breast that isn’t groped by him, teasing your nipple to the point beads of your milk dribbled out of it again. The sight has him groan out, a tad too loud for the both of you.  

“So fucking pretty carrying my child,” Aegon grunts, the praise making your pussy throb with pleasure and your head fuzzy. He gathers some of your milk on the pad of his thumb, bringing it up to his lips to suck his digit clean. “Pussy or tit – you just taste divine.”

The obscenity of his words coax a renewed wave of your arousal to ooze out of your cunt, soaking his throbbing cock and the table below. You don’t want it to end just yet, but with the knot in your belly tightening, there’s no way to escape. 

Your heels dig into Aegon’s ass cheeks to slightly decelerate the pace of his thrusts and force him to go even deeper, intensifying the sensations you feel. 

“Fuck… please,” you whimper with your face contored in pleasure. 

Aegon wrinkles his nose, looking at you from under the strands of hair that have fallen into his face. “Need something, mommy?”

Your hips roll against his as best as they can, the swollen belly not making it easy, and your mouth falls open again with breathy whimpers leaving it. “I-I’m close,” you mewl, looking up at him with hooded eyes. “Wanna cum, daddy… please.”

You spot the hint of a smile dancing over his features, before he peels your hand off of your breast to bring it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. 

His other hand has found its way down to your pussy, skilled fingers dragging over your bundle in the rhythm they have long internalized. He knows you like clockwork, knows what gets you going and what makes you take just a little longer. 

“Cum for me,” he pants against the back of your hand, not once breaking eye contact with you. 

You collapse on the tabletop, the coldness of the wood hitting your flushed skin sending a shiver up your spine that goes so devilishly well with the fire that suddenly courses through your veins. 

Just in time with your orgasm washing over you, Aegon places his hand over your mouth to stifle the loud moans and whines, knowing damn well that even though he can hold himself back, the same doesn’t apply to you. 

You squeeze his cock so tightly as you fall apart beneath him, your back inevitably arching off of the table. 

“That’s it, mommy,” he coos while he fucks you through the orgasm, the toe-curling pleasure overtaking your every being. He watches in awe as your face contorts in pleasure, taking pride in it since it’s him that’s responsible for it. 

Only as he feels your body relax and your breathing turn more shallow than heavy does he bring his hand back down to your breast, the aftershocks of your high clearly subsiding. 

Aegon keeps on going despite the overstimulation taking its toll on your body now, clearly racing for his own completion. His other hand shows mercy on your sensitive clit and instead pays attention to your hip, fingers digging into your flesh. 

“Taking me so well, fuck, just a little longer,” he rambles, his head bowing forward to watch where he‘s repeatedly disappearing inside of your tightness. 

Your head lulls back again, and your walls flutter and clench from the overstimulation, in dire need to take his seed and bring it to an end. Both your hands fly to the edge of the table for leverage, while his hands grope every inch of your body they could grasp. 

Being overstimulated by him isn’t new to you, yet the moment the discomfort melts into plain pleasure always mesmerizes you. 

Your body feels as if it’s on fire with the knot in your belly tightening for a second time, the high approaching faster and harder than before. 

“Would’ve fucked a child in you if you weren’t pregnant already,” Aegon mumbles, and you can hear the strain in his voice, seemingly having troubles staying quiet. 

You whine in return, and it must have been the way your walls choke him for a second time, but Aegon brings his hand between your bodies again, pressing his thumb to your sensitive clit. 

“Cum with me,” you all but whine, eager to have his seed paint your walls. “Fill me up, daddy, pleasepleaseplease.”

The interplay of his cock bullying your sweet spot and his thumb dragging over your clit has you toppling over the edge once again, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to silence yourself. 

But even if you wanted to moan, you couldn’t, not with the white, hot pleasure coursing through your veins. 

Your lips part with no sounds leaving them, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. 

It’s not long after that Aegon comes undone, announcing his own orgasm with a stutter of his hips and a hoarse “Fuck, I–” escaping his throat. 

Your clenching walls are milking him for all he got, making sure every drop of his cum is accommodated and doesn’t go to waste. 

Two more thrusts are given to your fluttering pussy before Aegon stills his hips, collapsing forwards with his hands braced right next to the swell of your bump. 

He’s towering over you, a lazy smirk on his lips as he meets your gaze, and beads of sweat cling to his flushed skin. 

You rub your bump in circles as you look up at him, calming yourself as you regain your breathing. 

And you want to speak, but Aegon beats you to it.

“Marry me.”

A gasp escapes you as you process the words, and your belly immediately churns with arousal and desire. 

As his words ring in your ears, you lick your lips and gaze up at him lovingly, though something mischievous glints in your eyes. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

His face softens, but his lips curl into a smirk. “I was waiting for the right time, but I didn’t know whether it would come at all.”

You giggle at his words, and also roll your eyes, as it was typical Aegon. But even if the moment isn’t perfect, your heart still beats rapidly, having a hard time to handle the overwhelming emotions his proposal causes you. 

“But there’s still going to be a real proposal, right? With a ring and all that?” you tease playfully. 

Aegon chuckles and helps you sit upright again, cupping your belly with both hands. “Of course, you’ll get a beautiful ring and everything else that comes with it. You really think I’d half-ass something like this? You deserve the most extravagant proposal.”

You sigh, savoring the feeling of his hands on your body, his softening cock still inside of you and the weight of his words. 

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

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[corroded-hellfire]

Tiny Dancer - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

Summary: It’s your daughter Eliza’s first recital and Eddie couldn’t be prouder

Note: This idea came to me and would not leave me alone until I wrote it 💕

Warnings: older!eddie, dad!eddie

Words: 1.9k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Why did I have to wear a tie?” Luke complains, yanking at his buttoned-up collar. 

Eddie leans forward so he can see Luke around Ryan, who is seated between them.

“Because this is a special occasion. Your sister’s first recital.”

“They’re three-year-olds,” Luke hisses in a whisper, one hand gesturing towards the empty stage. 

“Hey,” Ryan says to his brother, “she cheered louder than anyone for you at your baseball game. You can do this for her.”

Eddie nods at his oldest in thanks. 

Luke turns to you and asks, “Think her hair is still all up in the bun?”

Wrangling your daughter’s dark curls into the ballerina bun on the top of her head had been a massive undertaking. Some spirals were shorter than others, so there were always a few popping out right as you would go to secure the hair with the white bow. It was an immense test of patience to try time and time again all while Eliza became more antsy and less appreciative of you tugging on strands of hair. She ended up with enough hairspray on her little head to make her hair as hard as a helmet. 

“It’s out of my hands now,” you say, wiping your hands and holding them up in defeat. “If Ms. Benson wants to deal with a curl going rogue, that’s on her.”

The lights dim and eight little ballerinas walk onstage, all with hands on their hips, poofy pink tutus flaring out just below them. Their instructor, Ms. Benson, follows them out to make sure they’re all in the spots they should be. 

Eliza is the third ballerina from the left, and she looks so precious you think your heart might burst. Her white tights and ballet slippers somehow aren’t stained even though they’d been in your house longer than forty-eight hours. The pink leotard and tutu give her the regal air of a princess, though that might just be Eliza’s own aura. She’s nothing if not captivatingly glamorous. It looks like all of her unruly curls are still on their best behavior, but it would be hard to see one or two offenders that sprang loose from the audience anyway.

You peek over at Eddie and see him beaming as he looks at your little girl up onstage. He feels your gaze and turns his head to meet your eyes. The pride on his face makes your heart melt against your ribs. Eliza hasn’t even done anything yet and Eddie is over the moon.

“She’s so beautiful,” Eddie whispers.

“Like her dad,” you reply, giving him a wink. 

He playfully rolls his eyes, but you don’t miss the touch of pink that colors his cheeks. Luke puts his hands on his stomach and pretends to gag. Eddie thunks him on the back of the head. 

Ms. Benson finishes her inspection and gives the girls a thumbs up. She scurries off stage, all ballerinas still with hands on hips. None of them can truly stay still, though. A few are swaying, one is twisting from side to side, and Eliza shakes one little leg, her knee bouncing up and down. You’re unsure if it’s due to nerves or anticipation. 

A few moments later, the speakers above the stage crackle to life. The opening notes of music tinkle and the voice of young Shirley Temple singing On The Good Ship Lollipop floats through the air. 

Eliza and her fellow dancers start to move, tapping the slipper on one foot on the stage in front of them, then switching to the other foot. It’s hard to tell what foot they’re all supposed to be on, since it’s split about fifty-fifty with what foot each girl is using. 

On The Good Ship Lollipop

It's a sweet trip to a candy shop

Where bon-bons play

On the sunny beach of Peppermint Bay

Arms go above Eliza’s head as she spins around, little feet stomping around in a small circle rather than spinning on one foot. Once she’s facing forward again, her arms come down to shoulder level and her knees bend and straighten, bend and straighten, as the ballerinas bounce. Again, all girls are going at different times and speeds, so it’s hard to know on which notes they’re supposed to be up or down on. 

Lemonade stands everywhere

Crackerjack bands fill the air

And there you are

Happy landing on a chocolate bar

Next, it’s one hand back on the hip and one hand waving out to the crowd as the dancers rock from side to side. You specifically remember Eliza practicing this move at home and she kept reiterating how her toes needed to be pointed on the foot she wasn’t balancing on. Only two other girls have their toes pointed at the appropriate times, so you can tell they didn’t take this step as seriously as your daughter. 

The moves of the eight tiny dancers are clunky and mismatched, which makes the performance all the cuter. When they all walk to the right on tippy toes, they’re at varying heights, some more flat-footed than others. On the march back to the left, one girl stomps so hard you can hear the clacking of her slippers. 

With arms out, the girls do one more twirl and then take their bows. 

The crowd breaks into applause and the small girls smile, appreciating the praise for their performances. The ballerina farthest on the right jumps up and down in excitement and the one on Eliza’s left waves furiously to her family. But Eliza stays in her final position, grinning from ear to ear as she looks out at you and her guys. 

“Yay, Eliza!” Luke cheers. 

Ms. Benson comes out, leads the girls in one more bow, then ushers them all off. The applause is still going.

“There’s my ballerina!” Eddie grins and catches Eliza as she runs over and leaps into his arms. He presses a smacking kiss to her cheek and squeezes her in his arms. “Mwah!”

“I did good?” she asks as the other girls reunite with their families all around you. 

“You were wonderful,” you tell her, leaning in to give her a kiss on the opposite cheek. “Did you hear me cheer for you?” Luke asks.

“Yes,” Eliza says with a giggle. “So loud!”

“Of course, it’s Luke,” Ryan says. He ignores Luke’s jab to his ribs as he reaches up and presents his sister with a bouquet of white flowers or different varieties.

Eliza beams and takes the crinkling plastic wrapping from him. She leans in to sniff the flowers and giggles as a few brush her nose.

“I got flowers!”

“For being the best ballerina ever,” you tell her.

“I love! Can you hold ‘em, Daddy?”

“Of course, my little ballerina.” He takes the bouquet from her with his free hand.

Ryan pulls on the bottom ruffle of his little sister’s tutu. “You look like a pretty poof ball.”

“Mama, can you take bow out?” Eliza asks.

“Sure thing, sweet pea.”

Eddie bends down a bit so you can see the top of her head. As gently as you can, you unwind the bow from her hair, wincing when you accidentally tug on it. Tough little girl that she is though, Eliza doesn’t whine.

Once you get it out, you do your best to stifle a laugh. It’s not good enough though, a snort of laughter breaking through your hand covering your mouth. Luke and Ryan laughing as well doesn’t help, either. 

“What?” Eliza asks with a pout.

“Sweetie,” Eddie says, also with a small chuckle, “I think Mommy used so much hairspray on you that your hair is stuck up in a bun all by itself.”

She gasps and her hands go to the top of her head. She feels around the stiff hair, moving backwards to the curly bun that hasn’t fallen one little bit since you took the bow out. Short fingers inspect the bun and Eliza turns to look at you with panicked eyes.

“Mama!” she cries. “My hair!”

“It’s okay, Liza,” you tell her, not able to help a small giggle coming out with your words. You pat her back soothingly. “As soon as you take a bath, it’ll be good as new.”

Your words visibly calm her. Her shoulders lower, though she still keeps her hands up on her hair. Now that she knows it isn’t stuck that way, she’s able to find the humor in it. Small giggles turn into loud laughter as she begins to shake her head from side to side like a wet dog getting out of the bath. Her hair hardly moves, only wobbling a little when she really whips her head around. 

“Do you want me to put your bow back in since we’re going out to eat?” you ask.

Eliza gasps. “We are?”

“Yep! Wherever you want,” Luke says, but adds under his breath, “despite my begging.”

“Yes, bow please.”

“What do you want to eat?” Ryan asks as you secure the soft white bow back around her stiff bun.

“Mmm…pancakes!”

“Ooh, breakfast for dinner,” Luke says, nodding his head in approval. “Nice choice. I’ll gladly wear my fancy schmancy suit while eating a waffle.”

“Okay, you can take off the tie now,” Eddie says. “I don’t feel like washing syrup out of it.”

“You don’t feel like washing syrup out of it?” you ask, raising your eyebrows at your husband.

Eliza pats her dad’s shoulder three times, as if she didn’t already have his attention.

“Mama does wash.”

“You tell him, kid,” Ryan says to his little sister. 

“Why you taking the girls’ side?” Eddie asks as you all begin to head towards the doors.

Ryan looks over at his little brother who is wrestling to get his tie off over his head. It’s currently stuck around his eyes and Luke just keeps tugging on it. 

“I’m not on his side,” Ryan says, looking back towards his dad. 

“Well, help him!” Eddie scolds Ryan.

“I gotcha, Luke,” you say.

A few strategic pulls and you have the knot undone, the green tie falling away into your hand.

“Thanks,” Luke says as he reaches up to rub his nose. “How’d you learn to undo ties?”

“Taking dad’s off,” Ryan says with a smirk.

Both you and Eddie whip your head towards Ryan with wide eyes. Luckily, both of his siblings are too young to get his innuendo. The further he gets into his teenage years, the more subtly inappropriate comments he makes.

“Dad doesn’t wear ties a lot,” Luke says.

“You’re right, Luke,” you say, ruffling his curls. Then you step closer to Ryan and wrap your arm around his head, your hand closing in over his mouth. “And you need to watch yourself, Mr. Teenager.”

Ryan mumbles something beneath your hand and the muffled sound makes Eliza laugh. When you still don’t move your hand, Ryan licks it, and you yank it back. Eliza laughs even harder at that. 

“You think it’s funny?” you tease, wiping your saliva-coated hand off on your daughter’s tight-clad leg. She squirms in Eddie’s arms, her legs kicking and almost catching him in the crotch.

“Ewww!” Eliza squeals. 

“I don’t have germs,” Ryan says.

“Yes, you do,” Luke and Eliza say at the same time. 

“Can I eat at a different restaurant?” Ryan asks.

“Nope,” you say, looping your arm through his. “You’re stuck with us.”

“Yep!” Eliza echoes. “You’re stuck!”