#and I like this idea I just didn’t do it well

[madamechrissy]

Do I wanna know?

Pairings: Yandere Gojo x Fem reader

Summary: Satoru Gojo knows as soon as he sees you, he'll do anything to have you, but first? He needs you to need him. Ignoring his friendly offer to let you stay with him to save up for a better place, you soon find yourself kicked out by your landlord, and moving in with Satoru. Every thing seems like it's bringing you to need Satoru more and more... yet he doesn't make a move on you, and soon you start putting things together... is Satoru a stalker?? 9k word count

CW - There are SO MANY lol here we go- gaslighting, manipulation, possessive behavior, stalking, Satoru is so Yandere, teasing and tension, explicit sex, rough sex, face smacking, choking, breed kink, videoing without consent, oral sex (both receiving) trying to baby trap mentions of cum, dirty talk (he calls you a slut a lott lol) and misogyny. SATORU BEING PSYCHO but sexy. It's toxic- Based on this drabble

Comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoy this one! Thank you for 4k followers omg!!!

You’re not sure how you came to be so close to Satoru Gojo so quickly.

It was as if everywhere you were, he popped up in some way, at first you all met at your work, you were a bartender for a pretty elite club, and Satoru came in along with a few of his CEO friends for drinks once. He had tipped you insanely well, this gorgeous man with shocking white hair, and the most intense blue eyes you’ve seen, you couldn’t even describe the color they were.

Satoru Gojo was rich, handsome, friendly, funny, you couldn’t understand why he even asked for your number. You’re a beautiful girl, but he seemed like the kind of man that had women come to him, but not just that, he’s humble and sweet. He messaged you that night even, hoping you got home safe after your shift, and then asking if you’d like to hang out.

When you pictured hanging out, you honestly pictured maybe a date, or something intimate, but it was just coffee the first time, and he asked real questions about you. The next time you all went to a concert he had tickets for, and you had invited him into your apartment when he’d dropped you off, offering a drink to him.

That’s when Satoru saw your shitty little apartment.

He scoffed, walking around while you went to grab two beers, earning a view of your ass that had him shifting himself in his pants, but he was so upset then, he knew where you lived from the outside, he’d watched you plenty, but this? It’s a teeny one bedroom nothing, surely he could treat you much better than that, you deserved a penthouse, his penthouse.

He’d been watching you since that night weeks ago, he could not get his eyes off you, you took his breath away when his eyes had shifted up your body in that slutty bartending outfit. God he can’t wait until you’re not allowed to wear that anywhere, until you’re all his, and oh he knows you want him, he sees the desire in your dilated eyes, how your lips part when you look at him.

But not just yet.

Satoru can’t just fuck you, no you need to be his and you need to stay his, never, ever leaving him, and to do that he needs you begging for him. He needs there to be no other ideas in that pretty head of yours, so he decides to be your ‘friend’. Even when you step a little closer, lowering your lashes, eyes drinking him in when you take a sip from your bottle.

Beer? You should have top shelf champagne.

Satoru can do that for you.

“Thank you so much for tonight, Satoru.” You say softly, a hand trailing up his chest then, he tilts his head, blue eyes assessing you hungrily.

“Why live here?”

You blink now. “Well, it’s cheap and safe?”

“Don’t you make good money?”

“Um… yeah but I have student loans out the ass for my failed creative writing degree.” You roll your eyes and sigh, earning his chuckle.

“Failed? Didn’t pass?”

“No, I did but it’s useless I guess now. I should’ve gone into medical and been a little smarter, but I didn’t listen.”

“Is it your passion?” You nod then, with a little smile.

Satoru can make it happen, surely.

“You could always stay with me.” You cough then, you all barely know each other. “I have a huge place, I wouldn’t mind.”

“I could never impose like that. Don’t feel so sorry, Satoru, I swear I’m good here.” You lean in now, Satoru leans down, big hand caressing your face, tilting your chin up, his look so intense you can’t breathe. Breaths come in quick pants as your gaze hits his plush, glossy lips, imagining them everywhere.

“It’s an open offer, if anything happens. I’ll be…” He smirks a bit, leaning even closer, so close you taste the sweetness of his cool breath. “All gentlemanly and everything.”

“Would you be?” He chuckles now, lips just an inch from yours, your chest is rising and falling, heart thudding at just what his touch does. “What if I don’t want you to be one right now?”

“What’re you asking, sweets?”

“I…” The phone rings now, you clear your throat, realizing you were about to beg this almost stranger to fuck you.

What’s wrong with you!?

“I am sorry, let me see who it is.” Satoru smiles good naturedly, but you don’t see the glare from behind you, as he scowls at the phone, seeing another man’s name. You text him that you’re busy quickly, earning a little relief for him.

“Boyfriend?” You whirl around now, eyes narrowing a bit.

“No, um… ex boyfriend. We were together for years though, even in college, so we keep in touch sometimes.”

Satoru’s jaw sets, and something… changes then, confusing you a bit, as he sets his drink down. “Who broke up with who?”

“Um, he did.” Your cheeks heat up now under his scrutiny. “I’m sure you don’t wanna talk about my ex though.”

Oh, he does.

He wants your attention all on him, and not a bit of that should be for your ex, who didn’t even want you!? How could anyone not want you? Your gorgeous face that fucks his dreams up, your perfect body like you’re built just for him, how sweet you are, and those damn eyes of yours. He can’t wait to see them fucked out, to see you drooling.

Can’t wait to make sure you never text this man again.

“Is something wrong?” You ask now, he smirks, brightening his face so you don’t figure out all his thoughts.

“Nah, sweets, just curious who’d break up with you.” His casual words hit hard, as he brushes your hair back now, leaning in again and you think maybe he’ll kiss you finally, but he just stares at you, holding your face with strong hands.

So strong he could really crush you if he wants, you feel so small in his presence, so overwhelming. Then he brushes his lips up and against your cheek, your eyes flutter shut, your body throbbing with need, but he pulls away after the little kiss on your face, those blue eyes glittering now, he grins all bright and beautiful, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

“Well, I’m off now, enjoy your night, huh?” You blink a bit at that, wondering then, is something not to his liking about you? You’re studying yourself in the mirror after he left, picking yourself apart.

Your makeup is perfect still, your outfit is sexy, you look really good, and you’d damn near been begging for him silently. Maybe he wasn’t interested? Then why did he look at you like that? You sigh now, washing your face and getting down to just your bra and panties, picking back up the phone and finally writing your ex back, then seeing a text from Satoru.

Satoru: Had fun, sweets. Good night.

You: I had fun too… you didn’t have to leave so early.

Satoru smirks, still in his car, watching your silhouette from behind your curtains, gently walking back and forth, he glares when he realizes you are likely naked or damn close to it. He is going to have to teach you some lessons, it seems, because you are already trying to show the world what’s his.

Or will be.

Satoru: It was getting late, did you want me to stay?

You: Maybe I did. Thank you for tonight though.

Satoru: No problem, love.

Love… that does something to you, Satoru does something to you, when your head hits the bed and you’re staring up at the ceiling. Your ex texts you again, but this time you ignore it, thoughts whirling, you still feel the touch to your cheek, having fucked you up more than even being intimate with someone.

Satoru Gojo, who was he really?

*****

“Hey, hey… what’s wrong?” Satoru knows what’s wrong, he is all sweet hugs and rubbing your back though when you are at his place the next week, sobbing against his chest.

“I’m so sorry… I… My landlord just kicked me out!? And I did nothing wrong, she said she’s renting it for triple to someone? I was past my lease, but shit.” Satoru smiles, but you don’t see it, buried against his strong chest as he strokes your hair softly, pleased that you came to him.

You’re such a good girl.

“Oh, sweetheart, it's okay. Shh.” He’s consoling you so sweetly, you pull back, seeing his concerned gaze as you blink away tears, swiping at your cheeks.

“I can’t afford three times the rent? Satoru I… I make decent enough money, if I could just pay you for a room until I find somewhere? I-”

“Nonsense.” He cuts you off, and your stomach flutters when he’s brushing a hand across your back, palm pressing into the fabric of your dress, like it’s burning you with a touch. “You stay here for free, save up money, yeah?”

“I can’t do that, I have to pay you something. It’s already a huge imposition-”

“Have you seen this place? It’s not shit to have you here, won’t cost me anything anyway.” You have seen it, his insane penthouse with a view that’s fucking ridiculous. It’s spotless, only the finest everything all over, you know Satoru’s very wealthy as a CEO but he screams old money too.

“I would feel terrible. Could I cook, pick up?”

“I have cleaners. Cooking though… yeah, you good at it?”

You smile tremulously, wiping your eyes again. “I’m so good! I also could give the best neck massages after work?”

“Now that sounds perfect. It’s a deal then, stay as long as you need, but cook yummy things. As for a massage, we’ll see if you’re good as you say.”

“Swear, they’re magic! Oh goodness, I have to get to my shift soon, ugh… is there a way you could help me get my things? I’ll just leave the furniture, it’s old, I can buy new shit.”

“Absolutely.”

You hug him tightly, kissing his cheek then, he tenses at it, at the brush of your lips, at the curves of your body against him. Fuck he can’t wait to make you his.

“Satoru Gojo, you're amazing.” He chuckles then.

“I know.”

*****

Living with Satoru Gojo, who walks around shirtless is… difficult. Your tummy clenches, mouth gulping the first time you see him, his chiseled perfect body, all dewy after a shower. Towel slung across his neck, sauntering over to you with that smirk of his, so casual as you’re in the kitchen chopping up veggies, he brushes his fingertips across your back, driving you insane.

Shivers slink down your spine when he leans over you, breath against your neck, you damn near arch back into him as he murmurs in your ear. “Looks yummy.”

Fuck.

You take a shaky breath, hands trembling as you then nick yourself with the knife, you wince then. “Ow, shit!”

“Lemme see.” He takes your hand gently, peering at the drop of crimson that pushes out in droplets then, the way he takes your hand even is too much.

Weeks of living together, walking around in arguably almost nothing in front of him, and he hasn’t hit on you, despite his eyes devouring you, like they’re touching you. No he’d smile and lazily trail his gaze, maybe brush against you in the kitchen, give you a hug after work, you’d rub his neck just so and he’d grip your wrists, smiling up at you, to the point you’re losing control.

All you can think of is him.

Satoru loves it that way, too, he loves hearing you murmur his name in your sleep, he’s got cameras all over, especially in your room, and he can even hear you on them. Your little whines of pleasure, he’d see how your hands would move under your blankets, as you stayed as quiet as can be, but he heard your whimpers, your sweet little moans.

He strokes his cock every night watching you, listening, waiting.

He needs you to really need him.

“Just a little nick, I’m fine.” You assure him, then your mouth drops as he takes your finger, sucking it into his mouth.

He’s sucking on your damn finger, hot wet mouth and the lewd images destroying the fragile hold you have on your sanity, snowy lashes lowered as he presses his tongue up on your fingertip, putting pressure. You stand there quiet, but then there’s a little sound that escapes your throat, a little whine, and when he pulls back he smiles knowingly.

He licks his lips, a drop of blood on them, tilting his head as he releases your finger now. “Better?”

“Um… y-yes. Thank you, Satoru.” You manage to speak somehow, your voice hoarse, you clear your throat then. “Clumsy.”

“Mind somewhere?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Another week goes by, Satoru watches you every chance he gets, when he’s at work he watches you on his phone, he’s got a tracker in yours, for your safety you know, when something concerns him. Your daily trips were work, maybe the store, and a couple times a week the gym. But you’re somewhere he’s never seen you at, and it concerns him then.

Where are you?

He zooms in on the location.

Someone’s house?

Satoru’s jaw tightens then, and when you’re home that night, you notice he’s not friendly, or sweet, or talkative. He barely responds as you try to engage with him, and when you go to rub his neck, he stops your hands with an icy glare. “What’s… did I upset you?”

“How could you upset me?” He stands up, looming so tall, you shrink back just a bit, the backs of your legs hitting the fancy grey couch, until you’re sitting in it, and Satoru’s arms are on either side of you. “How could you, sweets, hmm?”

“I… I don’t know? Um…” Your mouth goes dry when he gets on his knees, spreading your thighs, your breaths coming quicker, pussy throbbing around nothing, thinking of him, feeling his long slender fingers on your skin. “Satoru?”

“You’re a perfect girl, aren’t you? A good girl?” Your hips shift, his eyes dart down, smiling as he peeks under your skirt now, a wet spot forming on your panties, he can’t wait to finally taste you, when you’re good of course.

“Good girl? I… don’t know.” Your hands are at your side, his face is right against yours again, your thighs on either side of his body, pressing into him.

“What’d you get up to today?” He asks, all casual like he doesn’t know, as he assesses your body for marks, bites, hickeys. Your body belongs to him, even if you don’t know it just yet. He finds none, making him just a little less furious, but now he feels the plush of your thighs in his grip, picturing shoving them against your chest.

You’d look so sexy in a mating press, wouldn’t you?

“I um… went to grab dinner, then I gave some shit to my ex that I had left from the apartment.” Satoru exhales in relief.

“Oh yeah? I could’ve helped you, love.”

“No, it’s awkward. I was holding onto it, I decided to just let it go, he didn’t choose me, you know?”

“Who wouldn’t choose you?” You lean forward, his eyes dart to your breasts, as a strap slips over your shoulder.

“Satoru, you're too good to me, and why? How have I come to deserve you in my life?” He exhales, adjusting the strap with two fingers, brushing your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps, he watches your nipples perk up under your tank top, furious that anyone has ever seen them.

“Is that all? You gave him his shit?” He tries to hide his anger, his jealousy.

“That’s all.” You answer, and he stands again, leaving you wanting and empty when he’s not touching you.

“Should have asked me to help. I’m calling it a night, yeah?” You manage a little nod, he tilts your chin up as he stands over you, your body reacting so violently you’re shaking damn near, unable to stop the reaction. He smiles knowingly, leaving you then, and you glare at his strong, perfect back as he walks off, giving you a little look before going to his room.

Satoru knew you saw him somehow? You can swear it. Are you freaking out for no reason? Surely he didn’t care what you did, he maybe just wanted to make sure you were okay, maybe he could sense you were stressed somehow?

Then why is there this gnawing feeling?

*****

The next day you’re trying to get to work, and your car won’t turn over. You curse it out, it’s old sure but it’s strong and has a good engine. Satoru had already offered to give you one of his cars, saying you could pay him back later, as if you could ever afford a Mercedes Benz. You’d turned him down of course, and now he’s standing in his insanely huge parking garage, right out the side of your window.

You open the door, sighing as you get out of the car. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it, ugh!”

“It’s an ancient relic?”

“Hey!” You playfully shove him, laughing then. “It is, I guess. But I don’t know why it won’t start?”

“I’ll have my mechanic check it, he’ll love this archeology.”

“Satoru!” You’re laughing so hard then, god he always makes you laugh, you wish he’d make you moan but you throw those thoughts far back.

“I’m kidding, sweets, kinda.” He narrows those blue eyes, his jaw tensing just a bit then as he assesses your car.

Couldn’t be because he took out your catalytic converter.

“Hmm, maybe a dead battery or alternator went out?” Satoru looks at you amusedly, you’re cute, knowing something about cars. But he needs you to stop worrying about things like that.

“For now, I’ll take you to work, yeah?” You exhale, nodding then.

“Thank you so much, Satoru, you’re so sweet to me.” You say later, as he drops you off at work, top down, grinning with those Gucci shades hiding those baby blues, some of the girls from the bar are out front, they start giggling when they see the two of you.

“He’s so hot!?” One of your friends loudly whispers.

“Shh, I know!” Gojo hears you though, grinning as he swipes a hand through his snowy locks.

“Hello, ladies.” He says, getting out then to come open your door, earning the swoons of everyone. You smile gratefully at him.

“Thank you, Gojo.”

“No worries, tell me when to pick you up, mmkay?” You nod then, he gives you a little kiss on the head, and your friends make no secret of how fine they think he is.

“Is he your man?” Your other friend asks, you shake your head then, while Satoru gets back in the car. “Bitch, why?”

“Is he single?” Your other friend asks.

Something makes you sick then, thinking of seeing Satoru with other women, and surely it would happen soon, yeah? He’s gorgeous and can get who he wants, and he hasn’t yet shown he wants you. You peek back at him as he is starting back up his car, looking at your friend again.

“He’s single.” Satoru wants to laugh at you. He’s not single, you’re his already,  you just haven’t gotten where he needs you.

“Why not date him?”

“He’s not interested. Drop it.” You hiss, waving at Satoru, he tilts his glasses down then, the unreal eyes behind the snowy lashes drinking you in.

“Have a good day, sweets.” He leaves a bunch of giggling, whispering friends and heat on your cheeks when he drives off, grin glinting in the setting sun, because now he knows just where you are.

*****

After two more weeks of living with Satoru, you’re at about a month with him, and despite the endless little brushes against your skin, the little touches while you cook, the hugs and pecks on your cheeks, he never makes a move. You moan just a little louder at night thinking of him, wondering then when you’d see him in the morning why he looked so tired.

You’re wondering about lots of things.

“Satoru, do you date?” You ask one day, and he looks at you lazily, trailing up and down your body the way he does, the way that makes you ache with longing.

“Do I date? I haven’t in a while, why?”

“You’re so… you?” He snorts then.

“What’s that mean?”

“Like, gorgeous? Smart and sweet? Rich? How do you not date?”

“When I get with someone it’ll be permanent, there won’t be any dating or fucking around, so I guess I’m kind of picky about it. Why? Would it make you jealous if I brought a girl over?”

Yes, yes it would.

“Oh, no, I’m cool with whatever. It’s your place, I just live here.” Satoru leans you against the counter then, barring you with strong arms, his thigh brushing between yours, he feels it then, the heat that builds as you shift your hips just a bit, eyes darting up to his.

“Wouldn’t mind if I fucked someone right here? Ya sure?”

“It’s your place.” You manage weakly again, watching thin nostrils flare, his pupils blown out as you shift again, and he feels your hot pussy against his thigh, your hands slipping up his shirt slowly. “You like to fuck, Satoru?”

He blinks now, shifting his thigh, tilting his head as he studies you. “You’re asking if I like to fuck?” You nod, just barely, and one of his hands slips down your side, his cock throbbing under his jeans, thinking about devouring your pussy right on the kitchen counter. He already has tasted you off those panties he stole, he imagines it’s even sweeter from the source. “Do you?”

Your cheeks flush, eyes lowering nervously, Satoru tilts your chin up, making you look right at him. “I didn’t like it much, no, but… I like to…”

“Play with your pussy?” You bite your lower lip, rolling your hips once more, waiting for him to break, but he acts casual as he’s ruining what’s left of your addled mind. “You brought it up, don’t be shy.”

“Yes, I like to. Do you… play with…”

“Slutty questions.” He smirks now, backing up, you look in horror as you realize you’ve left a damn wet spot on his thigh, but he brushes it with his thumb leisurely, lapping it off his tongue, leaving you with your mouth open. “Mmm. Have a good night, pretty.”

You’re shaking when you get to your room, literally dying over him, knowing he’s in the next room but won’t come near you is torture, but for him it’s fun. He’s watching you pace around your room avidly, damn near chuckling when you strip off your clothes so quickly, flopping on the bed and covering your face with your hands, pressing your knees together.

He’ll make you feel better soon, don’t worry.

But then, you pick up your phone, earning his glare that of course you can’t see, he picks up his other phone now, the one that shows him every message and call you make. Some guy has been trying to ask you out for a couple weeks, but you’d ignored him, like a good girl. Now, however… you’re texting him back!?

That just won’t do.

He’s so absorbed in staring at your messages, as you smile just a bit, wondering if there was a way to get under Gojo’s cool exterior.

Maybe a date with someone?

******

You’re dressed in some slinky outfit, it hugs your body just right, hitting about mid thigh, a black lacy little number. You step out of your room, his mouth drops open when he sees you, too much of your smooth skin revealed, your breasts on display for everyone who would see, you smile up at him all pretty and do a little spin as he grips his hands into fists.

He wants to rip that dress the fuck off you, bury his cock inside your pretty little cunt and fuck you hard, fuck you so hard you sob those eyelashes off, so hard your perfect hair is a tangled goddamn mess. Teach you that you’re his and only his, that you belong to him, have you cum so hard you can’t form anymore thoughts of ever leaving in your pretty head.

He can’t even speak when you nervously ask, “How do I look?”

How do you look? You look like you need your ass beat, your clit overstimulated to the point you beg him to stop, look like you need to get that pretty neck choked out by his big hands. And that little smile on your face, like you know just what you’re doing to him? Satoru’s teeth click together, jaw tensing now while he sits there on the desk chair looking at you.

“You look gorgeous. But then you always do.” You blush at that, lashes lowering at the praise. “But why so dressed up? Going out with… friends?”

You know he knows.

You hear it in his voice, in how tense it gets. You smile then, shaking your head, lacing your fingers together in front of you as you feel those blue eyes touching your skin. “No, I’m going on a date.”

Satoru’s little facade breaks for just a moment, he can’t keep it up just now, and it’s like you know, you’re being this little brat and not his sweet little thing right now. He can’t wait to fuck the attitude out of you, as hard as it’s making him. “Oh? A date, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while you know.” You step up to him just a bit, smiling so pretty, devious little brat. “A while.”

“A while.” He repeats, voice hoarse, before realizing you’re trying to play him, aren’t you? “Since?”

“Since anything. This guy seems super nice, maybe he’ll… think I’m hot, you know? Be attracted too? We’ll see.”

“Who wouldn’t want you? That’s stupid.” He huffs.

“Oh, is it? Well I’m not everyone’s type, you know?” You blink those damn lashes at him, he raises a brow. “So we’ll see. But don’t wait up for me, hmm?”

“Don’t you need a ride?” He asks, as you head towards the door, grabbing your little purse now.

“Oh no, he’s going to come get me, don’t worry.” Satoru’s hand stops yours on the knob, hard body pressed against your back, your breath catches, quickening now, watching the veins raise on his hand, as it covers yours completely. “Something wrong, Satoru?”

“Just wanna make sure you’re safe, you should let me take you.”

“Don’t even impose yourself, I’ll be fine.” You turn and look up at him, his plush lips just a breath from yours. “Everything okay?”

“Of course it is, you can text me if you need me to get you though, okay?” You exhale now, slightly dejected.

You want him to say he doesn’t want you to go, fuck you want him to grab you and keep you here, he makes you feel so fucking toxic, the insane thoughts making your mind whirl, your tummy coil with desire. One of his hands grips your hip, and you feel his length against your back, your eyes shut as you grip the door knob so hard it hurts.

“I asked you something, sweets.” His grip tightens, you open your eyes again, looking up at him.

“Of course, Satoru.”

“Have fun then.” He is back to being a bright, happy Gojo, blue eyes glittering, letting you go when you ache for him to drag you against him. “Be safe, yeah? Creeps everywhere, stalkers even.”

He’s following you in his car as soon as you take off in this asshole’s car, he tracks your location and finds you’re at some restaurant, he sees you then, up front at a table shivering a bit in your slutty dress. Part of him thinks, that’s just what you get, but another part thinks, fuck this dude for not giving you his jacket, Satoru sizes him up with a flick of his eyes, fists clenching the steering wheel.

You keep peering at your phone, you don’t look like you’re really having fun, what are you playing at? Are you trying to make him insane, trying to make him more jealous than he already was? He was jealous anyone even fucking saw you altogether, he thinks how good it would be to breed you constantly, to keep you knocked up with his babies, stay at home for only his eyes to see.

The thoughts drive him insane, as does seeing this dude’s hand on your bare thigh now, thighs for him to touch, he is so furious he almost blows his cover, taking several breaths as he prepares to rip this dude’s hands off. How dare anyone touch you!? And then he gets it, your text.

Satoru, I’m so sorry, but are you busy?

Satoru exhales in relief, leaning his head back on the driver’s seat, brushing his hand across his face.

Having fun on your date?

Satoru is being petty but he can’t help it, he sees your cute little glare as you poke on your phone, and his hand slips higher up your leg.

Not really. I’ll be fine though, sorry.

Satoru panics now.

What’s wrong?

He watches as you type.

I feel really uncomfortable, could you please come get me? I’m so sorry to put you out like this…

Satoru comes right out of the car, walking across the street now, and your eyes widen in shock, lips parting as he saunters up, grinning and holding out a hand. “Hey pretty, wanna get out of here?”

“Excuse me!?” The man sputters, but you giggle, Satoru wonders if you’re the crazy one here, him or you?

“I’d love to.” You put your little hand in his, following him to his car then, when Satoru slides in however he cups your face, grip tight on you, his eyes glaring and fucking furious. “How’d you get here in ten seconds? Instant transmission like Goku?”

“You’re such a brat.” He mutters, glaring now as you grin, one hand in your hair, pulling, making you cry out, a sound that makes Satoru’s cock leak precum, just from the sound of you. “You did this it piss me off, hmm?”

“Why would you be mad, Toru?” You put a hand on his thigh now, leaning forward, showing more and more of your breasts. “You don’t even want me like that, haven’t you made it clear?”

He starts laughing now, he’s feral, manic in his insane laugh, pulling your hair even harder. “I don’t huh? Then tell me what the fuck this is?”

Satoru takes your hand putting it over his clothed cock now, you whimper feeling him for the first time, hard for you, his breaths coming faster and faster as you go to stroke him, earning his own throaty moan. “Are you jealous?”

“No, because he’s not shit, and you’re mine anyway.”

“How am I yours!? Don’t even kiss me. Don’t even-”

Satoru yanks you to him, slamming his lips on yours then, devouring your mouth, tongue swiping in every inch of it, swirling as he loses his fragile sense of control. You taste so good, you feel so good, he’s wanted you for so long, he’s brutal with his lips, with his teeth, with how he grips your chin so fucking tight. You’re falling apart for him, then, when he yanks back.

His breath is hot on your lips, his hand slipping between your thighs then, you can’t stop the cry that escapes your lips, when he finds you over your panties, soaking wet for him. “This for me, or for him?”

“Stupid- ah!” Satoru pulls your hair so hard tears prick your eyes, stroking you over your sticky panties.

“Watch that mouth, and that attitude before I fuck it out of you.” His whisper and his touch makes you drip down his fingers, you’re arching your hips as he touches you, pressing on your clothed clit now. “So you get this wet for me?”

“You get that hard from me?” You counter, he laughs again, shaking his head at your audacity, slipping his finger under your panties now, finding your bare cunt.

“Stupid fucking soaked, huh? From a kiss?”

“Just touch me, please…” You’re begging him now, leaning closer, lips pressing against his, drinking his moans when he shoves two fingers in your eager hole, stretching you and making you gasp. “Satoru…”

“Do you deserve to cum, after acting this way?” He demands, curling his fingers up in your slick walls, pressing that spot that has your eyes rolling back, entire body reacting to him, dripping down his sleeves, his watch you’re so wet. “Answer me.”

The first slap on your cheek shocks you with the sting that throbs, you glare at him, slapping him back on his pretty face, earning him gripping your wrist brutal as his fingers fuck into you. The car is heating up right in the middle of the damn street, you hear your pussy squishing, hear your cries and gasps.

“Asked you a question, sweets. Seeing your ex, going on a date, showing off this body to everyone? Ya think you’re a good girl?” You shake your head then, and he groans, kissing you messy, tongues drooling saliva, thumb finding your clit now, and you’re close, so close, clinging to him.

“N-no but… please…” He laughs as he pushes you to the edge, sucking you off his fingers then, groaning, cheeks hollowing.

“Fuck you taste even better than your panties.”

“My what!?”

“C’mere, ya wanna be a good girl for me?” You blink rapidly, nodding then, and he revs up the car, pulling out, you are jostled as he begins to drive like a maniac, you’re grasping him, half thrown on his lap.

“Where are we going?”

“Home. You’re gonna make it up to me, being so slutty, huh?”

“Slutty?”

“Slutty mouth.” Satoru unzips his pants then, and you gulp when you see him for the first time, thick and long, veiny cock so pretty, the tip pink, drooling drops of precum already. You stare at it, he feels it as he drives, peeking at you now, grabbing the back of your hair again. “Put it to use, and I’ll let you cum.”

“Fuck…” You have never done something like this, but you find yourself bent over him then, taking your tongue and lapping at the precum on his tip, while he drives with one hand, his other, entangling against the nape of your neck.

“Gonna be my perfect little slut, no one else's, huh?” You nod eagerly, you’re stupid, this man literally stalked you on your date, he’s acting possessive and psychotic, but your pussy is clenching around nothing. “Say it.”

“Your perfect little slut.” You whisper, he moans then, husky and guttural as you suck him in your mouth now, hot and wet, swirling your tongue around the ridge of his tip, earning his hips bucking, cock twitching.

“That’s it, I knew you could behave. There you go, good girl.” You’re trembling, sucking him deep in your throat, over and over as your cunt is drooling, dripping down the panties that are becoming soppy wet and pathetic like you. “Feel that slutty mouth, never gonna suck anyone again, are you baby?”

“Mmm…” You’re moaning eagerly, sucking his cock as deep as you can, he’s shoving your head fully down to where you’re slobbering all over him, tears pricking your eyes, you’re shaking while he uses your throat, your mouth, as your taste his salty precum, shoving it in your throat deeper and deeper.

“F-fuck… you’re finally being good, huh? Bet you wanna cum, bet your pussy is soaked, yeah?”

He knows you can’t answer, he’s loving the choked out sounds you’re making as you suck him down more and more, until he finally pulls up to his house, he pulls you off him, cock glittering with your saliva. He moans, kissing you again, teeth sinking into your lip, tasting himself off your tongue, you’re whining, trembling, he chuckles just a bit then.

“Look at you, sucked it that good? Should I fucking be mad?” He demands then, you gasp at his touch on your pussy again.

“It’s been a long time for me, okay?” You whisper, he exhales now.

“No one will touch you again when I’m done, yeah? No one.” You nod weakly, Satoru smiles now. “Good, you’re so good f’me.”

Satoru’s got you in his penthouse so quickly you’re disoriented, and as soon as the door is closed behind you, he grabs you, slams you against the wall, and kisses you again, hard and desperate. His hands slips down to your ass, squeezing it roughly in his big palms, long fingers pressing in as he takes over everything, making you moan into his mouth.

You can feel his cock pressing against your tummy now, thick and insistent, on your tummy, half put up, his pants unzipped, and you can’t help but arch into him, rubbing against him, tip toeing to get close. He’s so rough with you, so demanding, and it’s making you wetter, making your body respond in ways it never has before, it’s insane what he’s doing to you.

He shoves a hand back up your dress, twisting your panties to the side again, rubbing in teasing circles, as tears fall out of your eyes, looking at them and moaning. “You’re crying?”

You manage a sniffle, fuck you looks so perfect like this, in tears for him, it only makes Satoru’s cock spurt more precum, so hard it hurts, he can’t wait to bury it so deep in you, he’s picturing it as he slides his fingers into your soaked cunt. You moan loudly, you’re tiny hands clinging to him, leg around his hip, letting his fingers fuck you deeper.

“Hear it? You’re so loud, so messy, huh?” He’s whispering, all you can do is nod, pupils so blown out your eyes are dark. “Look at you, fucked out from my fingers? That won’t do, baby.”

You barely register his fingers sliding out of your pussy again, you whine at the emptiness, but then he’s on his knees, shoving your dress up over your hips, yanking your panties off you. He’s throwing one of your legs over his shoulders, bright blue eyes staring up under his snowy lashes, you’re clinging to his hair, chest rising and falling as he places a kiss on your pussy.

“You were so good, I’ll treat you so good, hmm? Make you feel s’good?” You just nod, earning a smack on your pussy, making you gasp. “What do we say, little slut?”

“Please.” Satoru Gojo then his face buried between your legs, his tongue sliding along your slit, tasting your arousal that starts pouring down his mouth. You gasp as he nibbles on your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure through your body.

He’s eating you out like he’s starved, slutty moans from both of your throats, your head slamming against the wall. His stupidly long  tongue is moving in circles around your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you, and you can’t believe how good it feels. You’ve never been with a man who’s so hungry for you, who devours you like this, his fingers making your squelching wetness even louder.

Your hands entangle in those silky white locks as he fingers and licks like he’s always known how to, but it comes so natural, flicking his tongue against your little twitchy clit over and over. Your cunt is so wet his fingers slip, before shoving back in, pressing your spongy spot inside your little hole, all while you’re a pathetic mess, sniffling and hiccuping.

He can’t wait to make you stupid for him, beyond this, beyond anything, can’t wait to own you, possess you in every fucking way. As he sucks your tiny clit in his hungry mouth, he moans against it, looking up and watching you shatter for him. You’re so close to cumming, you can feel it building.

“Gonna cum, please, please-” You whine out, gasping, thighs shaking as you’re too weak to stand, but then he stops, leaving you gasping for breath, your body on the edge, pulsating all over through every vein..

“Beg for it.” He orders, sadistic smirk on a face half soaked with you, as he licks his lower lip, glossy.

“Please, Satoru, please make me cum.” You whisper, your voice shaking, and he groans, shocking you when he yanks you down, you slam onto the ground wincing and gasping as you hit the floor, and he starts palming at your dress, until he’s ripped it completely off you. “Satoru!? What!?”

Your dress is in pieces now, much to his pleasure, all you have now is what’s left of it under you, and you’re naked aside from heels and a bra. “You’ll never wear that fucking dress again, got me? Showing off what’s mine when I wasn’t even with you? Do you hear me?”

You nod then, you should be terrified, but fuck you want him too much, as he shoves your thighs up high, then dives back in, his tongue swirling around your clit, his teeth grazing it again as he bites it. You scream out at the pain, he shoves those fingers back in, three this time.

“Too much, too much!” You’re sobbing out, and he laughs now.

“No baby, your slutty pussy can take it, huh? Lemme hear you scream my name.” He shoves his fingers in so deep and his tongue is drinking you as your orgasm hits you, your body convulsing against his mouth, your juices flowing onto his face, everywhere.

You can hear him, lapping you up, drinking every bit, all while the best orgasm of your existence makes you blind, you’re floating, the only thing that tethers you is when he looks down at you, fingers still buried. He slams his lips back on yours, you taste your pussy on his lips, whimpering and clinging to him desperately, bare as he’s fully dressed.

“You’re made for me, only me to taste, just me.” You just nod, and he chuckles, shaking his head. “Can’t talk baby?”

“You, jus’ you… Toru…” He’s picked you up to stand, before he’s pulling you up against him, holding your naked frame against him, carrying you to your bed now, lips not coming up for air until he’s tossed you on your bed.

“Bra off, now.” He orders, you do as he says, tossing it and then peeking at the camera you know is there, smiling before you look back at him. He’s glaring, unbuttoning his dress shirt now. “Looking at something?”

“Oh, nothing. Do you record? Will you stroke yourself to this later?” He slips off his shirt, leaving you speechless until he’s laying on top of you again, eyeing your perfect tits and little smile.

“You knew?” You tilt your head now, leaning up on your elbows, a hand stroking his cheek.

“Did you like how I played with my pussy in front of it? How I moaned your name?” Satoru’s ended now, scowling at you.

“You liked it, being watched? By me?” You nod again, swallowing as he slides off his pants, yanking off your heels, kissing along the tops of your feet before lapping at your ankles. “You did it knowing?”

“You wouldn’t come to me.”

Satoru’s eyes are on you, you’re his entire world now, his obsession, his fixation. He’s going to claim you, fuck you until you forget every other man who ever existed. He’s going to ruin you, and you’re going to love it, he can already tell when his cock is hot and heavy against your inner thigh, when your hips are rolling up, and you’re dripping down the bed.

“You get off on it, me being fucking obsessed, huh?” You nod weakly, and Satoru has your thighs spread and pressed up, his tip drooling precum against your aching hole. “Then let me be clear, you'll never see or date anyone again, got it?”

Satoru grins sadistically as you weakly nod, whispering a-  “Yes, Satoru.” He moans then, filling your tight hole in one stroke of his huge cock, stuffing you so full you scream out, pussy gripping him like a vise, drooling down his veiny cock to his balls, pooling under you both as his own eyes roll back.

“Feel her, made f’me, just me? Mine, mine, mine.” He’s whispering it like some insane mantra as he begins to move, fucking into your soppy cunt over and over, you’re pulsing and fluttering around him as he pounds your cunt, nasty words spilling from his pouty lips. “My little slut, hmm? Mine.”

“Ngh…” Is all you manage, when he slams your cervix with his drooly tip, leaning up to grip the headboard and pressing a thigh higher, railing your cunt so much it hurts, but you’re dying, drool pooling out of the side of your lips, eyes fluttering, trying to stay open.

“That’s it, oh look at you, fucked stupid already? I’m just starting with you, baby, gonna fuck your pretty mind up till it’s all me.” He leans down, rolling his hips and grinning with his eyes lit up, so dark they look black for just a moment. “That’s it, cum all over my cock, can’t help yourself huh?”

You do then, you’re cumming all over him, muscles contracting around his cock so hard she tries to push him out with the force, so much wetness dripping it’s streaming across his cock, earning his breathy moan. He’s fucking you through your orgasm, your thighs shaking, you are stupid, you can’t form one thought in your pathetic brain as your orgasm waves over your body.

“Aw, fucked dumb? Poor stupid baby. I’ll keep fucking all those thoughts out of your head, hmm? Till it’s just me.”

“Satoru… jus’ you… s’good I…” You can’t talk anymore, not when his cock’s strokes are hitting just right, not when his tip drags against your gspot before bruising your cervix. You’re clinging to him, nails pressing into his strong back, as pulls back, watching your tummy bulge.

“Fucking up your guts, fucking up your brain. S’all me, huh?” You can’t answer, you’re too fucked out, but his slap brings you too, he smacks both cheeks, gripping your thighs brutal, leaving bruises. “Focus, baby, focus.”

“S’all you…” You answer, you’re so obedient, you’re so good for him.

“You’re such a good girl, perfect pussy, perfect body. Perfect face. Haunting my every fucking thought, torturing me.” He shoves your thighs high, pressing them against your breasts, folding you in half and bottoming out, you scream at it, hands gripping the sheets beneath you as you’re stretched and filled so much. “You’re so good you deserve all my cum, all these babies in you.”

You can’t register concern, he’s pounding you while gripping your face so tightly, you feel so tiny as he works his long, muscular body, as he breaks your body and mind with his cock, slamming harder and harder. You hear the sounds of it, the smack smack smack of his skin, as his balls slap your asshole, covered in slick from your cunt that’s drooling down his length.

“That’s it, milk my cock, so fuckin good, you want it, me to fill you, make you drip me for days.” You just weakly cry out, sniffling, tears pouring down your cheeks. “So beautiful like this, crying f’me? Oh baby, you’re perfect like this.”

Satoru loves your tears, your trembling lips, as you grip him so good, he feels it, you’re going to cum again, eager pussy sucking him in loudly, as he fucks you so hard the headboard slams the wall, you’re barely hanging on, sobbing and mumbling. You’re so fucked out it’s cute, opening and closing your mouth, unable to speak.

“It’s all me in there, yeah? Gonna be all me, gonna fill you so good, baby just wait, f-fuck!” Satoru slows then, pumping your cunt full, hot gooey cum sticking to your walls and making you cum right with him as he fucks it further, deeper.

“Satoru!” You’re mumbling his name, gasping for breath as he fills you, all of you, so hot and deep, until he finally lowers your legs, laughing softly.

“Oh I’m gonna have so much fun with you, you’re never leaving me, are you? Aw, can’t talk baby?”

He’s got you flipped on your trembling knees next, burying his face in your pussy, cleaning all his cum out and groaning. “Too much, too much!”

“Taste us together, fuck. Made for me, just me.” He’s on top of you next, prone over you, fucking out his first load and prepping you for another, all while he’s choking your neck squeezing so hard you almost faint. He’s whispering in your ear, breath tickling, hands over your sensitive skin. “Love it, hands around this neck, beg me to cum in you, fill you.”

“P-please… please fill me- ah!” You’re fading as he chokes you harder, spitting and drooling in your mouth, cock wrecking you as he fills you again, his sweat dripping from his skin as he works you. He groans then, hand pressing on your tummy.

“So full of me, but you need more, need no question in your pretty head who you belong to.”

After another load you’re weak, and he’s still going. When you finally wake in the morning, after several loads pumped in your pussy, you’re a mess, wobbling weakly as you step out of your room, thinking of facing him. Would things be different now, was it all passion, in the moment? Was it just sex? Was it more…

You smell something sweet then, inhaling as you slip on one of his dress shirts, you’d gone from fucking in your room to the bathroom, all the way to his room. At some point he had you bent over the couch, at another he had you pressed against the shower wall. It’s like little fragments, your pussy is aching, your experience has never prepared you for his size or stamina.

But you feel deliciously fucked out.

You catch his eye then, he looks at you, exhaling at how beautiful you are, your eyes are a little puffy from crying, you have bruises and marks littering your neck, you’re wearing his expensive dress shirt and nothing else. He feels himself hard just looking at you like this, remembering all the cum he’d pumped you full, wondering if it was still dripping out?

“Good morning, sweets. Get some shut eye?” He teases, winking at you as he flips his spatula, finishing the stack of pancakes he’s made.

“You cook, Satoru?” You ask, throat hoarse from your moans, from slobbering all over his cock and having him choke you. You clear it nervously, earning his smirk.

“Cute.” He murmurs, pulling out a chair for you. “Of course I cook, I just enjoy you cooking for me, so sexy watching you, barefoot in the kitchen you know.” 

“That sounds so…”

“Sit down, you need that energy baby. Last night I know I took it easy…’

“What!?” You blink then, sitting as he plates your breakfast, wincing at how sore your entire body is.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, look at my girl.” The words ruin you, when he leans down, cupping your face and his thumb brushes along your jaw. “Covered in bruises.”

“I am?” You look down and see your thighs, your chest, in hickeys and bruises, red and purple all over. “Oh…”

“Don’t worry you’re not going anywhere today anyway. You should take a break from work, you know.” He chuckles and kisses you. “Fuck I’ve waited so long for you, for you to be mine.”

You are kissed by him then, you eagerly meet his lips, before he pulls back, taking a breath. You frown when you see your phone is over by his coffee. “Is that my phone?”

“Oh, mmhmm. Needed to block any guys, you know, also that period tracker said you’re ovulating today.” You blink again as you sip the orange juice he gives you, nearly choking on it, his blue eyes have gotten even brighter, his grin huge as he watches your expressions.

“Satoru…”

“I threw out your birth control, cancelled your prescription.”

“Satoru!”

“What baby?” He sits you up on the table, between your thighs, your body violently reacts when he grabs you under your chin, his other hand slipping down your breasts. “I know, I should have breakfast first, is that what you want?”

“I… you…”

“Gonna look so fucking sexy full of me.” He lifts your thighs, sliding up the shirt you wear as he sits right on the seat, sliding it up to get a full view of your abused, puffy cunt. “Oooh, fucked her up. Do you hurt, baby?”

“Y-yes… I- ah!” Satoru’s lapped at your pussy now, from your hole to your clit, chuckling as he pulled the lips apart. “T-Toru…”

“Look at her, she’s ready for more, she’s so greedy.” He’s buried his face against you again, and you’re cumming so quickly, he laughs at it. “So easy, too. Ah we’re gonna fill her up more, don’t worry, gotta knock you the fuck up.”

You’re going to protest then, this is insane, he’s crazy, but when you’re getting bent over the kitchen table and fucked again, you soon forget your protests, as Satoru grips your tits and pinches your sensitive nipples, pounding your hole, all you can do is cry out and arch your back. Satoru smiles against your neck as you fall apart, as he pictures breeding you.

He’s got you right where he wants.

And you both know you’re never leaving.

Ahahah this was INSANE, none of this is cool unless it's Gojo, stay safe out here lol. Hope you all enjoyed! (yes all my stories are Arctic Monkeys or Chase Atlantic lyrics loll)

Taglist: @silvarys @strychnynegirl @indiewritesxoxo @alygator77 @moonlitwitchdaisy @cuntphoric @aldebrana @levislug @haruhatake @ninikrumbs @xixflower @star2112 @nanasukii28 @sukuxna0 @naammiii @uhnosav @victoria1676 @thequeenofcurses @targaryenluvs @jinjen @yesdere @shokosmokes @aishi-toru  @labelt-san @chiyokoemilia @makingtimemine @seeing-stars-alt @bunheadusa @alt--er--love @1satoruu @thikcems @plimplimmeiododoi @watermelonslut

[mephisto-reporting]

Period Pain Simulator

About:You suggest to use a period cramp simualtor on him, and he agrees, not fully understanding what he signed up for. Based on this request. Pairing: Female Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship.My inbox is open for prompts and requests :) Content Warning: Mention of periods, period care, pain.

ZAYNE

The pitch:

When you brought up the idea of trying a period pain simulator with Zayne, he initially tilted his head in that ever-so-slightly skeptical way he does when you propose something he deems "questionable."

You held up your phone, a mischievous grin on your face. "Zayne, I found something amazing. It’s a period pain simulator, and I think you should try it."

Zayne raised an eyebrow, his arms crossed over his chest. "Why? I’m a doctor. I understand how bad it can get."

You scoffed. "Do you really, though? So many male doctors dismiss period pain like it’s no big deal. I think it’s time you felt what we go through. You know, for science."

He gave a small, amused smirk, but the seriousness in his eyes softened. "Alright, I’ll humor you. But if we’re doing this, make sure to get the one that can simulate back pain, too. Many women experience cramps radiating through the lower back, not just the abdomen. It’ll be a more accurate representation."

The Setup:

When the package arrived, Zayne opened it with the same precision he used in surgery. He carefully examined the simulator pads and settings, nodding in approval. "This is well-designed. Electrodes for the lower abdomen and lumbar region… Not bad."

You couldn’t help but grin. "Glad it meets Dr. Zayne’s standards."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t fight the smile tugging at his lips. "Let’s get this over with. I have a feeling you’re going to enjoy this too much."

He meticulously read the instructions, asking you questions about where the pain usually hits, its intensity, and duration.“And you’d rate it… a 9? Frequently?” he asked, frowning slightly. “I know you’ve mentioned how painful it can be before, but hearing it in these terms makes it…” He trailed off, his lips pressing into a thin line.

You secured the simulator pads on him, and he reclined in his chair like a man about to undergo a scientific trial, his expression stoic.

The Experiment:

At first, Zayne was unshaken, even giving clinical commentary.

“The cramping sensation is similar to gastrointestinal issues.” he noted, folding his arms across his chest. “Not unbearable, but unpleasant. I can see why it’s distracting.”

“Distracting?” You rolled your eyes. “Just wait, doctor.”

By level 6, you saw the shift. His previously composed expression faltered, his jaw tightening slightly. “Ah,” he exhaled sharply, his posture stiffening. His hand gripped the arm of the chair, knuckles whitening. “"The contractions are sharper now. Definitely impacting focus and posture.”

“What? Giving up already?” you teased, trying not to laugh.

“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth, though a faint sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. “But this is… significantly more intense. Is this close to what you experience?”

"Not even close," you replied. "Mine’s more like a 9."

His eyebrows lifted, and he leaned forward slightly. "Let’s test it, then. Gradually increase it to your level."

When you nudged it to 8, his knees began to quiver slightly, and he leaned forward, bracing himself on his thighs.

“Alright,” he muttered, his voice tight. “That’s… that’s enough.”

You quickly turned it off, watching as he took a long, steadying breath, his head tilted back against the chair.

You immediately turned the device off and knelt in front of him, watching as he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. "Are you okay?"

Zayne didn’t say anything at first, just ran a hand down his face and looked at you.

“Nine?” he finally asked, his tone low and tinged with disbelief.

“Nine,” you confirmed, smiling faintly as you handed him a glass of water.

He exhaled sharply, his voice softer than usual. "I’m fine. Just… processing. I can’t believe you go through that regularly." He paused for a bit and said after a moment, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you function like this.”

You couldn’t resist teasing him. “So, doctor, any thoughts on how to fix it?”

He smirked faintly, though his expression still carried a hint of solemnity. “If I had the solution, I’d be a billionaire.”

The Aftermath:

From that day, Zayne became even more attentive during your periods. Whenever he noticed you wincing or holding your lower abdomen, he’d quietly step in with solutions. He was already a sweetheart before this when he would: Startkeeping track of your cycle, ensuring his apartment was stocked with your favorite snacks, pain relievers, and heating pads. On particularly bad days, he’d prepare meals for you, saying it was "basic patient care."

One morning, as you struggled to get ready for work, he handed you a heating pad. "Here. Lie down for a bit. I’ll call in and write you a sick note. You need rest more than they need you today."

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I can power through."

He placed a hand on your shoulder, his tone firm yet gentle. "No need to prove anything. Your health comes first."

He draped a blanket over you and handed you a mug of herbal tea. Sitting beside you, he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

"You’re spoiling me.." you teased.

He smirked, leaning in to kiss your temple. "After that simulator, you’ve earned it. Besides, I don’t mind taking care of you."

And from then on, Zayne made it his personal mission to ease your discomfort every month.

SYLUS

The Pitch:

You bring up the idea while lounging in his living room, half-expecting him to dismiss it with his usual sly smirk. Instead, he leans back, crossing one leg over the other, an amused glint in his sharp eyes.

"A period cramp simulator, hmm? You want to subject me to this, kitten?" His voice is teasing, but there's intrigue in his tone.

“You already treat me like royalty during my periods, but I think it’d be fun to see if you can handle the pain. You’re always so smug about your high pain tolerance.”

Sylus had always been attentive during your period. He tracked your cycle meticulously, often surprising you with gestures that softened even his domineering demeanor. He'd run you a hot bath infused with soothing oils, carrying you to the tub if you were too tired to move. When cramps got bad, he’d hold a warm compress to your stomach, his other hand massaging your lower back with expert care. When you think you’re being a bother, he’d often say: “Sweetie, do you think the Onychinus leader doesn’t know how to cater to his queen?"

Sylus chuckled lowly, leaning forward. “Very well, kitten. I’ll play along with your little experiment. But I warn you,” he teased, tapping your nose lightly, “don’t get your hopes up. I’ve endured worse than cramps.”

The Setup:

When the package arrives, Sylus studies it with unnerving focus, turning the instruction manual over in his hands. He helps you place the patches and electrodes on his abdomen, his smirk never fading.

“Don’t look so thrilled,” you tease.

“Oh, I’m just curious how something as small as this could possibly mimic what you endure.” he replies, confident.

You set the simulator to level 1 as he stands in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for your meal.

"Are you sure you want to cook like that?" you ask.

He shrugs. “You manage to work and do your chores during this, don’t you? Fair is fair.”

The Experiment:

At level 1, Sylus continued to chop vegetables, unfazed. “A mild annoyance,” he commented, smirking over his shoulder. “Feels like someone’s pinching me.”

By level 4, he hummed quietly, stirring the pot on the stove. “I can see why it’s bothersome,” he admitted. “Having this sensation constantly for days would be draining.”

You crossed your arms. “This is what I feel before my period starts. My cramps are much worse.”

His crimson eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued. “Then turn it up. Let’s see what you deal with, kitten.”

At around level 7, his breath hitches slightly, and his movements slow. The knife falters for a second before he regains his rhythm. “Interesting…” he mutters, the usual smugness replaced by concentration. “This is… unpleasant,” he admitted, his voice gruff.

At level 8, Sylus paused, one hand gripping the edge of the counter as a faint grunt escaped him. “You’re telling me this is a normal day for you?”

You shrugged, leaning against the counter. “More or less. Sometimes it’s worse.”

When you hit level 9, his head dipped slightly, a cold sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. “This…” he growled softly, straightening with effort, “is brutal. And you still function like this?”

“At least you’re not curling up in bed crying…” you teased.

He shot you a strained smirk. “Who says I’m not thinking about it?”

At level 10, Sylus shuddered, a rare moment of vulnerability showing as he gripped the counter tightly. “Alright, turn it off!” he said, his voice low and rough. “Next time any man says something dismissive about period pains…” He straightens, despite his trembling legs. “The Onychinus leader will personally make sure they understand how bad it can be.”

You help him to the couch, gently massaging his shoulders while he catches his breath. He leans into your touch, uncharacteristically silent. After a few minutes, he looks at you, his gaze softer than you’ve ever seen it.

“You go through that every month?” he asks, his tone laced with awe and guilt.

You nod. “And worse, sometimes.”

You handed him a glass of water, running a soothing hand over his back. “You okay now, Mr. Tough Guy?”

His smirk returned, albeit faintly. “I’m fine. But I have a new appreciation for your resilience. You’re tougher than I gave you credit for, sweetie.” he murmured, his hand reaching out to pull you close.

The Aftermath:

From that day, Sylus became even more attentive during your cycle. He already tracked it meticulously, but two days before your period, he’d sweep you off your feet—literally.

“No arguments.” he’d say as he carried you to his car. “You’re staying with me. I’ll handle everything.”

For the next several days, you weren’t allowed to lift a finger. He made sure every craving was satisfied, every discomfort alleviated.

One evening, as you sat curled up on his plush couch, he brought over a tray with your favorite snacks and bobba. Sitting beside you, he gently massaged your shoulders.

“You know…” you teased, “you don’t have to spoil me this much.”

Sylus leaned in, his voice a low, affectionate murmur. “After what you go through, sweetie? You deserve it. Besides,” he added with a playful smirk, “I like taking care of my kitten.”

RAFAYEL

The Pitch:

You find Rafayel in his art studio, humming to himself as he paints bold, crimson strokes across the canvas. His expression is focused, but when you mention the period simulator, he freezes mid-swipe.

“Wait. Back up.” He narrows his eyes at you, holding the brush aloft like a sword. “You want me to voluntarily experience pain? Have I offended you somehow, or do you just take joy in my suffering?”

You grin. “I was thinking it might inspire your art. Pain breeds creativity, doesn’t it?”

He gasps, clutching his chest. “You’d subject me to agony for the sake of art? Truly, you are a sadist of the highest order. But…” He sighs dramatically, as though resigning himself to a grim fate. “Only you could convince me to do such a thing. You should feel privileged. But don’t think I’m suffering alone. If I do this, you’re doing it with me.”

The Setup:

When the simulator package arrives, Rafayel eyes it like it might explode. Picking up one of the devices, he smirks.

“Cutie, there’s four devices… I think you misordered. Should we strap one of these on Reddie and see how he handles it? Might be the only thing more ridiculous than this idea.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s meant to simulate cramps on your stomach and back, Rafayel. And no, we’re not torturing your pet fish.”

He flips through the instructions and gasps. “It goes up to ten? Why stop there? Why not go straight to death by cramps? You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“You scared?” you tease, securing the pads on his abdomen.

“Me? Scared?” He laughs, though there’s a nervous edge to it. “Please. Let’s get this over with, sadist.”

The Experiment:

The simulator starts, and Rafayel chuckles, waving it off. “Okay, I feel… something. Like a tiny, grumpy crab pressing against my stomach. Barely noticeable.” He glances at you, checking your reaction. “You’re starting this at baby mode, right? Because this is nothing.”

At level 4, his smugness evaporates as he clutches his abdomen. “Okay, wait. What is this? This is worse than that bad lobster I ate last year! Remember that? I thought I was dying, and now I’m reliving it!” As you ramp it up to level 5, Rafayel grabs your hand tightly, his face pale. “How—how are you just sitting there? Are you even human? You’re not reacting, and I’m over here wondering if my internal organs are trying to start a mutiny!”

When the simulator goes up to a level 6, Rafayel groans, leaning heavily on you. “This… this is inhuman! How can anyone live like this? I’m calling it now!! every deity ever owes women an apology. A big one.”

When you turn the dial to level 7, he collapses onto the couch in defeat, dramatically throwing an arm over his face. “I’m done! I can’t! This is not natural. What kind of cruel universe would let this happen? I concede! You win! You’re stronger than I’ll ever be.”

Watching you crank the simulator up to 10, Rafayel’s jaw drops. He stares at you like you’ve just walked through fire. “You’re not human. You’re a goddess of pain. A warrior queen. I bow to your strength.”

When the simulation ends, Rafayel sprawls across the couch like a fallen hero. “I’ve seen the face of true suffering, and it’s period cramps,” he says, clutching his chest. “From now on, I swear on my soul, I will treat you like the queen you are. From now on, during your period, I vow to never, ever bother you. In fact, I’ll treat you like royalty. You’ll want for nothing. You have my word.”

The Aftermath:

True to his promise, Rafayel becomes even more attentive, finding ways to make your life easier and more comfortable during that time of the month.

During your next period, Rafayel sets up a cozy movie marathon. He ensures you’re comfortable, surrounded by pillows and snacks, while he fetches anything you need.

“You shouldn’t even have to move during this time,” he says, adjusting your blanket.

Rafayel starts holding his tongue when he’d usually tease you about being grumpy or tired. Instead, he softens his tone and offers comfort.

“Cranky today?” he asks, then quickly holds up his hands. “Not judging. Just… Here, have this chocolate. And maybe don’t throw..” pauses mid-snark every time you are on your period now.

“You really don’t have to—”

He cuts you off, wagging a finger. “Nope! I have seen the light—and the pain. I will never bother you during this time again. In fact, I’ll personally fight anyone who does.”

XAVIER

The Pitch:

It’s late evening, and the glow of dimmed lights barely keeps the shadows at bay. Xavier sits across from you, his neutral expression making his ghost story seem even eerier. His voice is steady, almost monotone, as he recounts the chilling tale of an N109 Wanderer cursed to roam forever.

“And then, the last person to see him claimed they felt his breath on their neck, even though they were alone,” he murmurs, his tone unwavering.

A shiver runs down your spine, but you can’t help but interrupt. “You’re really good at these creepy stories. Ever think you might scare yourself with anything at all?”

Xavier pauses, raising an eyebrow. “Are you trying to scare me?”

You laugh nervously. “No! I was just thinking about something I saw online. A period simulator. It looked like fun—or, well, not fun, but… interesting.”

He leans back slightly, his neutral mask slipping into the faintest smirk. “So, instead of scaring me, you want to torture me? Bold.”

“It’s not torture,” you counter. “Just… educational. And you’re good at handling pain, right?”

After a beat, Xavier shrugs. “If it’ll make you happy, sure.”

The Setup:

The next day, a text from Xavier lights up your phone:

“It’s here. Looks dystopian. Like something from the Ever’s labs.”

Curious and excited, you rush home. When you arrive, you find him sprawled on the couch, his hair slightly disheveled as though he just woke up from a nap.

He glances at you, his expression as neutral as ever, though there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “You look way too excited for this. I hope it’s not as bad as it looks.”

As you set up the simulator, Xavier leans back, arms folded behind his head. “Go ahead. I’ll just nap through this, like everything else.”

The Experiment:

You attach the simulator pads to Xavier’s abdomen and adjust the settings. He barely reacts as you activate it.

“I feel something,” he mutters, closing his eyes again. “It’s like… a soft vibration. Barely noticeable.” He shifts slightly, adjusting his head on the couch pillow. Xavier’s brow furrows slightly, the first sign of unease. “Alright. It’s like a cramp now,” he remarks, still lying down. “Not pleasant, but nothing worth waking up for.”

At level 4, Xavier’s breath hitches briefly. He sits up halfway, propping himself on his elbows. “Okay. This is… noticeable. Like someone twisting a knife in slow motion.”

He glances at you. “You feel this regularly? Seems inconvenient.”

You nod at him. "That's on a lucky day... it's worse usually."

When you dial up the intensity to level 5, Xavier sits up fully, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Alright. This is officially too much to nap through.” His usually even tone is edged with mild irritation.

He rubs at his side, his neutral expression faltering as he exhales through clenched teeth.

At level 6, Xavier winces visibly. His calm exterior cracks as he shifts uncomfortably. “Who thought this was a good idea? This is like… a fight I can’t win. But it’s inside me.”

He shoots you a tired glare. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

By the time you reach level 7, Xavier grips the couch’s armrest, his knuckles white. “This is insane!!" he mutters, his voice tight. “How do you even… move? Function? Exist?”

He closes his eyes and takes a slow, measured breath. “Alright, I’m impressed. But I hate this.”

When you push it to level 8, Xavier’s calm breaks completely. He groans, pulling the simulator pads off. “Nope. I’m done. This is where I draw the line.”

He leans back, pressing his hand against his abdomen. “You win. And I officially respect the crap out of you.”

The Aftermath:

From that day on, Xavier’s quiet attentiveness becomes more noticeable. He doesn’t make a big show of it…he’s still Xavier, after all. Whenever you look even slightly uncomfortable, he’s there with a heat pack, water, or a blanket, his movements calm and efficient.

One night, as you rest on the couch, he leans over, adjusting the blanket over your shoulders. “For what it’s worth,” he says softly, “if I could take that pain for you, I would.” When you casually mention feeling cramps, Xavier immediately stops what he’s doing.

“Don’t move,” he says, his neutral expression betraying his seriousness. “I’ll get you tea, chocolate, or… whatever else helps.”

When you protest, he shakes his head. “No arguments. I’ve been there…well, sort of…and I’m not letting you handle it alone.”

Xavier hands you a heat pack, his movements precise as he places it on your lower back.

“I read somewhere this helps,” he explains, his tone matter-of-fact. “And no, I’m not going to fall asleep while holding it for you. Probably... It’s nice and warm…”

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Taglist: @cordidy

[tojisun]

this still makes me ill. i am compounded by the desire—

the idea of john price, because it always comes back to him, who is so exhausted but a good partner anyway. who will see you truly bounce off the walls, energy buzzing under your skin, leaving you listless, and ask if there’s anything he can do.

you tell him you don’t know what you want, let alone what you need. it’s like a chill is enveloping you, and you just.

you just want the thoughts to go away. for the energy to die down. to feel like liquid. like molten.

john grunts, and next thing you know, he is holding you by the back of your neck, pushing you face-down the bed, his other hand tugging down at your pants. you don’t protest, you go with a chirp, but john doesn’t—

he doesn’t fuck you.

the smacks resound loud, hard, stinging and surprising, and you cry out because—

“no!” you protest, squirming away, but john’s hold is firm. unshakeable. you are at his mercy, feeling everything getting squeezed out of you one slap at a time.

your skin is throbbing when you finally get pulled from the haze, snot and drool mussing up your face. he is crooning something, like soft apologies and quiet praises, and you twitch at the attention. at your mind splintering back to focus.

it wasn’t—

it wasn’t enough.

a sob wretches itself out of your throat, feeling your mind pulsing again, the doubts and the festering thoughts returning, and john is—

john is here. he is warm as he covers your trembling body with his bulk.

“i’ve got you,” he says, his voice thick with his own exhaustion. and you want to apologize, to tell him that he doesn’t have to, but john kisses the underside of your jaw, peppering and soft, and the drag of his scruff makes you giggle even just for a bit.

his hand dips between your legs and swipes at your cunt. you mewl — you didn’t even realize how wet you’ve become. john hums like he’s expected it anyway, and it fills you up with warmth because john just has a way of showing that he knows your body so well. that he knows that you come away weak to the knees and core throbbing with every of his winding touch.

you push back on him, wanting more. he grunts, and pulls away.

“no–”

“need t’get my dick out, baby,” he teases, chuckling. “see?” he presses himself onto your back again. “i’m right here.”

you can’t even speak, your voice coming off too sticky for words to take shape so you try a nod because you’re good for him, you want him to know, and john kisses you again like a reward. like he knows.

god, he knows you so well.

the press of his cock is heavy. it is filling. and, finally, your body uncoils.

[littlegrapejuice]

Flatline | LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando parties a bit too hard and needs to be patched up. Luckily, he can count on a pretty nurse.

Author's Note: I'M BACK MFS🙂‍↕️ it's been a while haha but enjoy this lil lando fic that was inspired by the song Flatline by 5sos!! Also happy new year hehe, hope everyone is doing good and i wish y'all the best for 2025🫶🏻

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

King’s Day 2024. Amsterdam, Netherlands.

Amongst all the drivers, people would’ve thought Max Verstappen the most prone to be sighted in public while celebrating his country on its national day. However, the one that was currently trending on social media was Lando Norris. Pictures as well as videos were being posted, reposted, and commented on every second. No one had expected Lando to spend the weekend away in the Netherlands in between two grand prix. But here he was, partying on a boat and even DJ-ing along with his good friend Martin Garrix.

Lando didn’t know whether people just didn’t care about him – seeing as the Netherlands were the home of one of the greatest drivers of the current generation – or if people actually didn’t know him. In any case, he was glad not to be disturbed by fans – even though he loved them – and be able to enjoy the day the same way everyone else was doing it: by partying, dancing, singing, and drinking.

Obviously, Lando was planning to be careful as he knew that his PR team would have his head if he did something stupid during his two-week break. But still, he was having fun like a typical twenty-four year old. He was having the time of his life. Dutch people definitely knew how to party on their national day, that’s for sure.

…..

A few hours later however, what everyone hadn’t been expecting was for Lando to end the day with bandages all over his face. As the surprise of him being in the Netherlands settled down after a while, pictures and videos stopped circulating around. Until fans all over the world were met with images of Lando with a bloody nose, a smile still on his face. People had no idea what had happened. No context had been given, only the speculation of Lando having drunk and partied too hard that he had hurt himself.

Fortunately for him, Lando had been able to count on you. Being a friend of a friend, you loosely knew Martin but had never really exchanged more than a few words with him. However, he was currently glad that the invitation to his boat party had managed to reach you as you were qualified to take care of Lando’s battle wound – his words. Being a nurse, and the only one with some medical knowledge on the boat, you had quickly reacted when people had started panicking after seeing Lando’s face starting to bleed.

To be honest, people had overreacted a bit. Because when you approached Lando to see the extent of the damage, you realised it was only a cut albeit the consequence of some glass. So although he wasn’t hurt very badly, you still suggested bringing him into the hospital where you worked. Obviously, Lando had refused at first as he pretended that everything was fine. He was. But just to be sure, you needed to give him a general check-up in a clean location as a random boat in Amsterdam wasn’t exactly the most hygienic place to patch someone up.

So after Martin also agreed to the idea, Lando had no choice but to listen to his friend and go with you. The Dutch told Lando that he would come get him later as he needed to bring his DJ equipment back home – he promised to be ready to give him a ride back from the hospital later on as he knew that Lando had a flight the next day. This is thus how you found yourself in a cab with none other than Formula One driver Lando Norris on the way to your workplace. Truth be told, you hadn’t expected to go there today. But you knew it was part of your job to be able to help anyone in need even if you were on your day off.

The ride had mostly been silent. Lando had been on his phone, probably texting a few people about his whereabouts, while you were focused on the next steps to do when you’d be arriving at the hospital. You were pleasantly surprised when Lando paid the driver without a second thought and told him to keep the change.

“I could’ve paid, you know. Thanks,” you told him as you entered the building.

“You’re taking care of me on what definitely seemed like your day off, so that’s the least I can do for you.” Lando smiled at you and even with the bandages around his face, he was still very good-looking.

“Still, I appreciate it. You can go wait in this room if that’s okay?” He nodded and you finished explaining what would happen next. “I just need to inform my manager I’m here, get some stuff for a small check-up, and then I’m all yours. I won’t be long.”

“Sounds perfect”, Lando replied with a grin.

True to your words, you were back in the room where you’d left the Brit less than ten minutes later. He noticed that you’d changed into your uniform – which you’d been lucky to have a spare here as your usual one was at your flat – and enjoyed the view of observing you in your element. Working in the medical field was your calling, and you didn’t see yourself anywhere else.

First, you removed the bandages that you’d wrapped around Lando’s face earlier before you cleaned up the small wound – properly this time, with adequate material. As Lando winced when you disinfected it, you apologised.

“Does it hurt much?” You asked.

“Not really”, he shrugged. “Just uncomfortable I guess.”

“Hmm, okay”, you nodded. “Tell me if there’s anything else at any point.”

Quickly finishing up, you were soon enough putting a band-aid on Lando’s nose. You debated offering to put a silly one originally designed for kids, but decided otherwise as you didn’t want to look weird for suggesting it. However, the driver had noticed your eyes drifting to them when you’d hesitated in which one to take, so he spoke up:

“You think you could actually give me one of those”, he wondered with a smile before adding. “The cute ones, there.”

When you saw that he was pointing at the Disney ones, you stiffled a laugh. You hadn’t expected him to directly ask for one himself, but you were kinda glad that he did. Amongst the different characters present, your choice was easily made.

“I guess that the Cars one caught your eye?” You raised an eyebrow, waiting to see if you were right.

“Bingo!” He laughed. “I’ll admit that Frozen was tempting but I gotta stay true to my roots.”

“Fair enough”, you chuckled. “Your job ain’t really much to do with building ice castles, or I’ve done my research wrong.”

“You looked me up?” Lando asked, the surprise obvious in his tone.

“Well, yeah?” You answered with a ‘duh’ tone as you gently put the Cars band-aid over the plain one you’d previously applied. “Even though the whole country supports Max and not many people care about the other drivers, I gotta know about the competition.”

“You think I’m competition to Max?”

“Of course! Anyone is: as long as Max isn’t the only driver racing on track, he has competition.”

Your explanation made Lando’s grin widen as he was glad to be considered in the same league as the Max Verstappen, especially by someone who lived in the Netherlands. To you, any other driver that had managed to be a part of the twenty that raced in Formula One was a good one – Lando included.

“He does have three more championship titles than me though”, Lando stated. “And God knows how many wins.”

“He’s had a good car for years,” you pointed out. “Your time will come, don’t worry. I can feel the papaya greatness for this year – though if I ever wear orange, it’s for Max.”

Not knowing what to reply to your words, Lando simply nodded while you put away the box of band-aids. You thought about the final steps of your check-up, and turned back to face the driver.

“Okay, so I’ll just put this on your finger to see your heart rate and then I’ll make you do a breathalyser if that’s alright with you?”

“Yeah, no problem. Do your job, don’t worry.”

“Great, thanks.” You carefully clipped the pulse oximeter on Lando’s finger before stepping away. “I'll be right back in a minute.”

“Take your time,” Lando replied. “I’m not going anywhere.”

When you left the room, the Brit let out the biggest sigh of his life. Oh God, he thought. It seemed like you hadn’t realised how close you’d been to Lando as you were only focused on doing your job, but he hadn’t been able to take his eyes away from you. He really hoped you hadn’t noticed anything, as the last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable at your workplace. Get a grip, Lando told himself while waiting for you to be back. Don’t fuck this up if you want a chance.

You came back into the room shortly after, a box in your hands – which Lando assumed to be the breathalyser. He knew he had drunk enough that he wouldn’t be allowed to drive, but he hoped he had sobered up enough after his trip to the hospital. After unboxing the breathalyser, you got close to Lando again and explained to him what he’d have to do.

“Nothing too complicated, don't worry. You’ll just have to exhale into this.” You showed him the object. “And I’ll tell you when to stop. Then, you’ll be good to go!”

Lando nodded in reply, even though he hadn’t really paid attention to the actual words you’d said. He had been more focused on your face and the way you’d gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. He almost wished he’d been the one to do it, and he wondered if it was the remains of alcohol in his blood making him think that. He also wondered if he would still be attracted to you if he had met you while stone cold sober. But when you gave him a soft reassuring smile as you told him to be ready to blow into the breathalyser, he knew he would find you gorgeous no matter his state of mind.

What he didn’t know though, is if it was the alcohol or his attraction to you that was making his heart faster – both, to be honest. The result was the same: the machine was showing his heart rate quickening and Lando could perfectly hear it echoing in his head, which made his eyes widen at the thought that you would hear it too. Lando’s heart rate was actually the least of your worries as you were focused on the current task of measuring the level of alcohol in his blood, but it became the most important barely two seconds later when you heard the continuing beep that usually meant the lack of heartbeat.

“Your heart is going flatline!” You exclaimed in shock as you tried to quickly assess how Lando looked in order to find the cause. “Oh my God… oh my God, what the fuck is happening?!”

And while you were panicking, Lando realised that he had made a grave mistake. See, as he still wasn’t back to his normal state of mind, the driver thought that it was a wonderful idea to just remove the pulse oximeter from his finger so that you wouldn’t have noticed his heart rate speeding. But of course, you had immediately noticed the lack of constant beep from the machine and were currently still stressing – breathalyser completely forgotten.

Seeing your panicked state, Lando was now feeling extremely guilty and decided to come clean.

“I’m fine!” He was almost shouting. Hearing his voice made you stop in your tracks, and you looked at him with worry in your eyes. “Sorry”, he apologised. “I accidentally removed the thing, please calm down. I’m not dead.”

“Oh”, you could only answer. You felt awkward now. “That’s good, then.” You scratched your neck and nervously laughed. “It’s weird, it shouldn’t come off that easily unless it’s forcibly removed. Sorry if I gave you one that wasn’t properly working.”

And this was his last straw. Lando was now feeling even guiltier at your words, as you were going to blame yourself for using seemingly faulty equipment.

“Please don’t be mad, but… I-actually-removed-it-myself”, he said as quickly as he could.

“What?” You questioned with a tilt of your head.

“I removed the heart thingy myself because I didn’t want you to hear my heart rate.”

“Lando, that’s my job?”

“Yeah, but like…” He didn’t know what else to say, except for the truth – thank the alcohol for giving him the confidence to utter the next words. “I was just thinking about you, and you were looking super pretty while explaining stuff, and I wasn’t really paying attention to be honest, but then I felt like my heartbeat was going really fast, and you’d hear it, and you’d think I’m like weird, and–”

“Oh God, Lando calm down!” You put your hands on his shoulders so that he would look at you instead of the floor, and meeting your eyes silenced him. “You’re good, don’t explain yourself. I know that you’re not completely sober yet so your mind might make you do weird things. I’m just glad you’re alright and not suddenly a victim of a heart attack.”

“I don’t want you to see me as a crazy drunk guy right now!” He retorted, trying to clear his name. “Even sober, I’d think the same. Maybe not do the same stupid shit though…” He muttered the last sentence.

Silence now filled the room as you removed your hands from Lando and put them in your pockets before sighing. You tried to assess the situation and process his words. You’d had your fair share of people complimenting you in your workplace so Lando’s feelings weren’t that unusual, but it was still rare to end up in this type of situation. You thought for a minute about what to do while Lando stayed quiet. He was scared of dumb words leaving his mouth, so he didn’t want to take any more risks.

“Tell you what”, you caught his attention. “We finish this up, I clear you free to go, and maybe we can start over when you’re not my patient anymore. Sounds good?”

Still not trusting his words, Lando simply nodded. You then kept going with the last steps of your check-up before announcing to Lando that he was discharged. He had surprisingly sobered up quicker than you would’ve thought – maybe because of the heart rate incident – and his alcohol level wasn’t as high as you’d imagined it to be.

You walked him back to the entrance hall and asked him if Martin was here to get him. He briefly checked his phone and noticed a couple texts from the Dutch that were notifying him of his arrival in a few minutes. You therefore decided to wait with Lando, having all the time in the world – it was still your day off and you knew that the hospital wasn’t understaffed today, so there was no need for you to stay and give a hand.

As you were waiting in an excruciatingly awkward silence, Lando chose to man up and clear the previous situation up.

“I still think you’re beautiful,” he stated. “And I’d love to get to know you,” he added. “I know I’m not fully sober yet, but I’m almost there and my thoughts haven’t changed.”

“That’s good to know”.

“Good as in positive for me to shoot my shot?” Lando wondered with a nervous smile.

“You can try, I think your chances of success are pretty high right now.”

“Great.” His grin widened, and you couldn’t help thinking about how he was currently the beautiful one. “So, can we go out together one day? I know this great restaurant that my wonderful local friends told me about.”

“That’d be my pleasure”, you replied.

“When do you finish work?” He asked, even though he knew the answer.

“I’m actually done…” You feigned to analyse the time on your watch. “Right now. What a coincidence!”

“Coincidence indeed”, Lando agreed. He then took out his phone and gave it to you. “I’ll text you the location?”

“Sure”, you nodded. “Maybe not a full meal tonight, but I’m still down for a drink and snacks.”

“Works for me. Raincheck for a proper date then?”

“Come back for it once you have a race win under your belt”, you challenged.

“Deal”, he accepted. “I have really good motivation.”

“Tell you what, you can also get a wish if it’s the next race that you win.”

“A wish? Anything?” You nodded and Lando thought about ideas. “Kiss on the first date?”

“Alright, you’re on!” You sealed the deal with a handshake, a playful glint in your eyes.

Merely a couple seconds later, Martin was pulling up in front of the hospital which was yours and Lando’s cue to go your separate ways before meeting soon again.

…..

A week later following your semi-date with Lando, you were now watching him celebrate his first win on the top step of the podium in Miami. You couldn’t be prouder of him, and your first thought was to text him as soon as you saw him go back to his garage. You hoped that he’d have access to his phone soon enough and quickly drafted a message to congratulate him. Right before you sent it, your wish – and eventually his in the process – seemed to have been granted.

Flying back to you next weekend before imola

I’m expecting a welcome kiss👀

You chuckled at his texts, a blush appearing on your cheeks as you thought about how he was still serious about you, and deleted your initial message before sending a new one.

Wouldn’t have it any other way

Congratulations race winner! Can’t wait for the next ones, I knew your time was coming🧡

If Lando never imagined that being hurt could lead to him bagging a pretty nurse and getting his first Formula One win, he was now thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to get a small wound before each race if it meant that you would take care of him and that he’d be lifting the winner’s trophy afterwards.

..........

Hope y'all liked this ^^ idk if it's common knowledge on here but I'm a HUGE 5sos fan and when i recently heard flatline after a while, i knew i had to write smth f1 related for this song (esp the chorus)

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated if you enjoy my writing<3 it means a lot to me and i love knowing what people think - apart from my bestie who's often my #1 fan haha

See you next time, take care🤍

[yaniluvs]

going back to you 日 ── your tired boyfriend returns home after a long schedule, wanting nothing else but to be close to his lover.

𓍯 idolbf!han ʚଓ gn!reader ：（ 𝒾 ） 0.8k ── ༯ DRABBLE, fluff, humour, flirting, cuddles, kisses, cutesy, req. by anon! ⸝⸝𓂃 LiBRARY. /ᐠ.ꞈ.ᐟ\ྀིྀི

yani's note ˖ ˙ ᰋ haha see what i did? with the title? i'm so creative..? you're a boomer if you don't get it i don't make the rules SORRY. my hannie i love you sm. my first gender-neutral-reader fic !! written in second pov. (not my usual writing pov., but oh well !) how have you been doing? a little domestic fluff to make you smile >< thank you anon for the request, hope you like it !! comments, requests, asks, likes, follows and reblogs are always appreciated ! comment/ask if you want to be added to my mastertag ! happy reading <3

the apartment was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of string lights you’d insisted on hanging months ago. the scent of your vanilla candle lingered in the air, mingling with the warmth of home.

his home.

jisung trudged through the door, dropping his bag with a thud and kicking off his sneakers without care for where they landed. his hoodie hung loosely off his frame, his face buried in its collar to stave off the cold he'd carried in with him.

“baby?” his voice was tired, scratchy.

you popped your head out of the kitchen, spatula in hand. “you’re home! i made—”

he didn’t let you finish, crossing the distance between you in three long strides to wrap his arms tightly around your waist.

the flour-coated spatula clattered to the counter as you instinctively looped your arms around his neck.

“rough day?” you murmured, your chin resting atop his shoulder.

“you have no idea,” he groaned, voice muffled against your hoodie. “just let me stand here. let me hold you. please.”

“the cookies aren't gonna bake themselves,” you teased lightly, brushing a hand through his messy, slightly damp hair. “but i’m all yours.”

his grip tightened, and you felt the deep sigh he released against your neck. “sorry.. i just, missed you so badly today. you have no idea how much.”

you pulled back slightly to cup his face, your thumbs brushing the dark crescents under his eyes. “talk to me?”

he shook his head, lips pouting slightly. “later. i just wanna be with you right now. can we cuddle?”

“you didn’t even eat—”

“don’t care.” he tilted his head, his lips brushing the curve of your thumb before pressing a soft kiss there. “babe. please.”

you melted. because of course you did. you always did when it came to him.

“fine,” you relented, threading your fingers through his as you led him to the couch.

he didn’t let go of your hand, not even as you tried to sit. instead, he pulled you down on top of him, sprawling across the cushions with you practically cocooned in his arms.

“jisung,” you laughed, “i’m going to crush you.”

“crush away,” he mumbled, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “this is exactly what i needed.”

“you’re like a koala,” you teased, although your heart fluttered at how tightly he was holding you, like you might disappear if he let go.

“and this koala hasn't seen you all day. he's in withdrawal.”

you rolled your eyes but didn’t move, instead running your fingers gently through his hair. he sighed contentedly, his body relaxing against yours.

for a moment, there was nothing but the steady rhythm of his breathing and the quiet hum of the city outside. however-

“do you know how channie hyung made me rewrite my rap three times?” jisung grumbled, his nose still pressed into your neck.

“did he now?”

“three times, yeah! and then minho hyung told me it sounded fine the first time.”

“of course, you're minho's baby,” you huffed sarcastically, unable to hold back a smile.

“god forbid a man is loveable-”

you giggled, brushing your lips against the top of his head. “okay, but you're my boyfriend first.”

“i am,” he replied, tilting his head up to look at you with a pout. “and you know what i really need right now?”

“what?”

“a kiss.”

you raised a brow. “just one?”

he grinned, boyish and soft, his eyes sparkling despite his earlier exhaustion. “okay, maybe, like, twenty. or a hundred. start anywhere you want. i’m not picky.”

you giggled, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to his lips. he hummed happily, his hands finding your waist and squeezing gently.

“more,” he mumbled against your lips, pulling you closer.

“someone’s greedy,” you teased, but you kissed him again. and again. soft, slow, like the world outside had paused just for you two.

“i missed this,” he whispered between kisses, his voice barely audible. “missed you. you’re my favorite place, love. my home.”

your chest ached, and you held his face in your hands, kissing his forehead, his nose, the mole under his eye that you adored. “you’re mine too, you know.”

he smiled, bright and blinding, his fingers drawing little patterns on your back. “good. because i’m not going anywhere. ever. you’re stuck with me.”

“oh no,” you deadpanned, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “whatever will i do?”

“give me more kisses, for starters,” he quipped, leaning up to steal another from you.

hours passed like that, tangled up together in warmth and love, the troubles of the day forgotten in the safety of each other. and as he drifted off, his head tucked against your chest and your fingers playing with his hair, you pressed one last kiss to his temple, whispering the words you knew he loved to hear.

“i love you, sung. always.”

his lips curved into a sleepy smile. “love you too, baby. forever.”

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger

[onyxstyx]

ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ʙʏ ᴀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ | emperor geta

pairing: emperor geta x fem!reader

summary: the fates spin the thread of destiny, and mortals have no choice but to follow its path. you have other plans.

➺‘the fates, who give men at their birth both evil and good to have, and they pursue the transgressions of men and gods… until they punish the sinner with a sore penalty’ - theogony, hesiod ➺‘whatever happens to you has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time’ - marcus aurelius

A/N: i watched gladiator ii, devoured all the geta fics i could find (ty writers for feeding me <3) and i’m still ravenous. the man is gnawing at me from my insides so i had no choice but to get typing. haven’t written for like a yr so bear with me. if this flops it never happened xx

warnings: mention of miscarriage (not reader's), period-typical misogyny, morally ambiguous reader bc she’s fighting for her life out here. she’s just a girl fr :( YOU try being a girlie in ancient rome :/ enjoy !!

w/c: 5.9k

latin translations: fatum - fate, carissima - dear, domina - my lady

As the moon ascends in wake of the sun’s descent, the gilded walls of the imperial palace glint softly in the moonlight. Glorious tapestries line these walls, each one telling the tale of hallowed heroes, of terrible tyrants and of revered rulers. The history of the Roman Empire.

Their patterns, depicting stories of both rise and ruin, are woven by none other than the three Fates. One Fate spins the thread, and an heir is born. Another Fate weaves it, and a battle is won. The last Fate cuts, and an emperor meets his end.

As three pairs of hands work nimbly in the heavens, another tapestry begets itself in the mortal realm, where our story takes place.

From a tender age, you had been taught to believe in fate.

Fatum.

You had first learnt the word as a little one.

You’d been a curious creature, like most children are. Sheltered from the terrors of the world, your appetite for life was insatiable. You’d wake up with a hunger for new knowledge about the world around you, and go to bed still hungry for more, no matter what had transpired during the day. Thus, you found it impossible to go to sleep of your own accord - you relied on your mother’s bedtime stories to satisfy your appetite, and lull you into slumber.

Perched by your bedside with a gentle hand stroking your hair, she regaled you with the tale of Rome’s beginnings. A tale of abandonment, wolf-mothers and fratricide. Enough thrill to tire you out, she hoped. To her chagrin, she looked down to find widened eyes, without a trace of sleep in them, staring up at her expectantly. Instead, your eyes shone bright with the excitement of unanswered questions.

She sighed fondly before prompting you to talk. “Yes, carissima?”

And so the floodgates opened. You fired her with questions with all the sternness of a Roman general, and she listened intently with all the patience of a loving mother.

Why did the king try to kill the babies? Why didn’t the wolf eat the babies?

And finally, taking great care to be gentle, you placed a tiny hand on her rounded belly and asked the most burning question. Why did Romulus kill his brother? Your innocent mind struggled to comprehend it. You hadn’t even met your little sibling yet, and you already couldn’t fathom the idea of bringing harm to him. Or her, you thought, but your father had insisted that all refer to the babe as the male heir he so desperately desired it to be.

“Fatum,” was the simple answer she supplied. “Without the king’s cruelty, without the wolf’s mercy, without Remus’ death, our great city would never have been built.”

Eyes shining with knowledge yet untold, her gaze held yours. “Whatever happens to you, has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time,” she quoted, a tone of finality in her voice.

As well-loved children do, you’d lapped up your mother’s answer as readily as the twin babes lapped the wolf’s milk.

You had first witnessed fatum some years later, at the age of twelve.

On the brink of adolescence, much about you had changed compared to the little girl having bedtime stories told to her. Much except one. Age hadn’t quelled your curiosity - if anything, it had grown.

You’d exhausted all the resources available to a girl of your standing. You’d read enough philosophical texts to debate with Aristotle himself, asked questions faster than your tutors could find answers and yet, you knew there was much more that the world had to offer. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

With age had also come a newfound deviance. Observant as you were, you’d learned that there was much to be gained with certain types of information - if you knew how to use it to your advantage.

As such, you’d taken to eavesdropping on your father’s meetings with his fellow senators from behind a pillar. For weeks on end, they had spoken of a play becoming popular amongst patricians and plebeians alike. Oedipus.

At the centre of their discussion was a ploy to ban the play from being performed. Abhorrent, they had called it. A threat to their authority, if the people are led to believe that even kings are subject to a thing as fickle as fate. At that statement, your eyes twinkled with mischief and a devious smile found its way to your face - you were determined to see this for yourself.

So, on the fateful night you caught your older cousin in the arms of a man bearing no resemblance to her betrothed, you knew you’d struck gold.

Desperate to protect her reputation and far too embarrassed to berate you for sleuthing around when you should have been asleep, she’d hastily agreed to the terms of your silence. She would sneak you into the city’s amphitheatre to watch the next production of Oedipus, if you swore to secrecy.

And so your plan commenced. Hidden under the large folds of her toga, you observed the story unfolding before you. The mighty king of Thebes brought to his knees by the tragic fate he’d tried to escape, to no avail.

A real spectacle, the performance elicited emotions from you that were both old and new. In a short two hours you’d been perplexed, horrified, scandalised. You’d learned quickly why you had to be sneaked in - fate wasn’t the only mature theme you were educated on that night.

But you only came to understand fatum when it took the person dearest to you, two summers ago.

Pregnant again, the fifth time that you could remember, your mother had taken ill. Perilously ill. After years of unsuccessful attempts to produce an heir - one daughter, two miscarriages and two stillbirths - she had breathed her last. In her womb? The son your father demanded of her. The son he had longed for. Prayed to the gods for. What else could bring forth such a tragic end, if not the hands of the Fates?

Now a grown woman, the beliefs your mother had impressed upon you would soon be tested. Left with no living sons to continue his legacy and no living wife to bring forth such living sons, your father’s lofty political aspirations could only be fulfilled through his daughter. You.

Your father wasted no time in advancing his plans.

After a long day spent praying at the temple of Pluto, you had been ready to wind down and relax. A good distance away from the centre of the city and situated atop a number of hills, a trip there takes up the whole day. You had set out at dawn, and as the sun set over the Tiber river to bring forth dusk, your shadow darkened the entrance of your family villa.

Exhausted both emotionally and physically, your body went through the motions of preparing yourself for supper, but your mind remained absent - occupied with thoughts of what could have been and what will never be.

After your bath you called for your maid and allowed her to dress you, head still in the clouds. It was only when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the bronze mirror atop your vanity that you noticed something was amiss.

Your eyes squinted as you inspected the image reflected on the polished surface.

“Why have you dressed me in these garments? I wish to wear my usual attire.”

You wore a tunic, the draped garment secured by an ornate brooch resembling an owl, with eyes made of precious gems. Nothing out of the ordinary.

What was out of the ordinary, was the saffron yellow hue of the tunic — since your mother’s passing you had been in mourning and thus only wore dark colours. A fact well-known by your maid, who dressed you day and night.

The hands fastening the brooch falter as she gathers a response.

“My apologies, Domina.” She stepped back, head bowed in deference. “I assumed you would revert to your previous wardrobe, seeing as yesterday marked the end of…” She trailed off meekly, allowing you to fill in the blanks.

The previous day had marked a year since your mother’s passing, and thus the end of the customary mourning period. As such, it would be socially acceptable for you to appear happy and content again, reflected in the abandonment of deep plums and drab greys for sunny yellows and bold blues. You supposed it was not odd for her to assume you desire to don brighter colours.

But upon closer inspection, your suspicion rose again. Detailed with beautiful patterns and made of the smoothest damask money could buy, the tunic was much too elaborate for a simple family dinner in the villa. The last time you wore it was to a relative’s wedding, where your father made a point of telling anyone who would listen just how much it had cost to import the material from China.

You poised yourself to question her further, but the words died on the tip of your tongue when you saw the pleading look she gave you.

“Please, Domina.”

She offered you no further explanation, but the fear in her eyes was explanation enough. She was not doing this of her own accord, but under instruction. And if you knew your father well, under strict instruction.

Whatever plans he had for you, you knew you would have little to no choice in the matter.

Wordlessly, you acquiesced and allowed her to continue. You did not protest when she brushed, braided and pinned your hair into an elaborate updo. You were compliant when she lined your eyes with kohl and blotted your lips with mulberry juice.

Primped and primed like a prized show horse, you dismissed your maid, sat by the window and awaited your fate.

Not long passed before the sound of a male timbre filled the room.

“It appears your outfit is missing something.”

You turned to the direction of the voice to see your father standing in the doorway. Instinctively, you stood to your feet - less as a show of respect and more because you were used to being on guard in his presence.

In his hands he held a translucent, gauzy material, sheer in nature and vibrant in colour, that was all too familiar to you.

Your mother’s favourite veil.

Usually fixed firmly atop her head during special occasions - festivals, birthdays, weddings and the like - you could recognise it from a mile away. Growing up, you had associated this veil with womanhood itself. You would traipse around the corridors of the villa with it wrapped around your head haphazardly, the excess fabric trailing behind you as you ran as fast as your little legs could carry you.

What a foreign sight it was to see it in the hands of your father. And what a foreign sight it was to see him in your chambers.

Following your mother’s passing, the two of you had not conversed beyond what was formally required of you, your already fragile relationship fracturing completely. Yet here he was, extending a peace offering. An olive branch.

Pleased as you were to receive it, you were not foolish enough to believe this to be a genuinely affectionate gesture. A politician through and through, your father was no stranger to symbolic gestures, and he had made no attempts to mend your relationship prior to this moment. This sudden generosity, paired with your extravagant dressing, could only mean one thing.

He wanted something from you.

Now, you had two options. Comply with his request, or comply with his request begrudgingly. You chose the latter, of course. Even if obedience was your only option, you weren’t going to make this easy for him.

You casted him a quick look of derision. “If you wish to barter for my forgiveness with a piece of cloth, I am afraid your efforts have been wasted.”

Unphased, he stepped further into the room.  “Now, now, peace, dear daughter. Let us be civil.” The faux humility in his tone was almost comical.

“Perhaps you feel…wronged by me for holding your mother to a certain standard. But, you must understand that I was simply fulfilling my duties, by encouraging her to fulfil her own. I have particular responsibilities to this family. As do you, now.”

You levelled him with an icy glare, wise enough not to express your discontent verbally, but too headstrong not to express it somehow.

“And even if I have, in some unfathomable way, wronged you; to err is human, to forgive, divine.” 

After knowing him for as long as you did, you knew this was the closest thing to an apology you would get. You also knew your father was a talented orator - it’s how he gained a large enough political following to join the Senate, after all. And so you prepared yourself to be subjected to one of his moving speeches.

“It is common knowledge that women are the weaker sex,” What a great way to start, you snarked to yourself. “Yet, I have always seen a unique strength in you. Not physical strength, of course, but a mental fortitude. Since you were a young girl you have been willful, stubborn,” he took a step closer to you with each word, purple-lined toga brushing the floor as he advanced. 

As he said the last word, he gave you a knowing look. “Nosy.”

You failed to hide your shock. “Oh yes, I saw you slinking around behind the pillars.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It matters not, now. In fact, whatever dregs of information you picked up from eavesdropping on my discussions may soon prove useful.”

His face was a picture of smugness, with an eyebrow cocked and the corners of his mouth upturned as if he knew something you didn’t. With just a few sentences he had complimented you (even if it was backhanded), revealed that he knew your secret, and teased you with a nugget of information. The perfect combination to make you anticipate his next words.

Silence filled the room as he kept you in suspense, mind whirring as you mulled over his cryptic words. 

One hand held your mother’s veil in front of him, while the other caressed its folds delicately. His eyes had a faraway look in them that suggested his mind had travelled to another time.

“Your mother was a strong woman. Not strong enough in the end, regrettably, but strong nonthele-”

“Don’t.” You interjected. “You will not sully her memory with your caustic words.”

His lips spread into a diplomatic smile, but the twitch of his eye betrayed the irritation he felt. Belligerent as he was, he ignored your outburst and continued. 

“Unlike her, you have the makings of a lady of great influence. Much like me, you have the mind for politics. That potential lies latent within you.”

With a gentleness you wished was also reflected in his words, he draped the veil over your head. “I advise you not to waste it, dear daughter, and suffer the fate of lesser women.”

You scoffed at his words, readjusting the veil so it rested perfectly atop your head and shoulders. “And how do you suggest I fulfil this…potential? The Senate is not exactly welcoming of women.”

Well-pleased that your interest had been piqued, he finally reveals his true intentions.

“Accompany me to the imperial banquet tonight. We will celebrate the successful conquest of Britannia.”

“I do not care for banquets, nor do I spare a thought for conquests.”

“You may not care for military conquests, but this banquet itself is a conquest of the political sort. In my experience, much more is won with words, than with swords. And tonight’s event presents an opportunity for much gain.”

Again with the cryptic words.

“Allow me to present you to the Emperors. Your face is comely enough to garner their attention, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, some men find opinionated girls like you to be charming.” 

Is he insinuating what you think he is?, you thought incredulously. Surely not.

“The Senate may not be the place for women, but the Senate is not the only facilitator of politics. Why not practice your politics from Palatine Hill?”

There was no mistaking it. He intended to make an Empress of you. Equally as curious as you were sceptical, you decided to test his logic.

“Beauty is fleeting. Charm wanes with time. How would I maintain their favour?”

“That, dear daughter, is up to you. I am certain you will find a way, formidable as you are.”

While it pained you to admit it, he was right. You and your father were more alike than different, what with your scheming and blackmailing. Besides, you were formidable. You were cunning. You were capable.

There may be greater things in store for you yet.

And those greater things began with this banquet.

Upon arrival, you were met with the most magnificent sight you had ever seen. Sat proudly upon Palatine Hill, the palace looked like the image your mind conjured when picturing Olympus. After ascending the intimidating number of steps that led to the entrance, you truly felt like you’d ascended to the land of the gods. Wherever you looked there was amazing artwork that instilled equal parts awe and fear in you. 

Look up, and there were grand arches to behold. Look to the side, and the spectacular frescoes offered a feast for the eyes. Look down, and there were beautifully designed floor mosaics you almost felt bad for stepping on.

As you passed through into the atrium, it was much the same. Ostentatiously decorated, it boasted gilded walls and glorious tapestries, each feature a testament to the Emperors’ opulence, and Rome’s riches.

But it was impossible to focus fully on the artwork with the room heaving as it was. Eyes darting from one person to another with every passing second,  you were captivated by the spectacle the hoard of partygoers presented. Something seemed to be happening in every square foot of the room, each guest having their fill of whatever their vice of choice was for the night. Wine was in abundance, giving way to loose lips, and scantily-clad whores prowled about in the shadows, giving way to loose purse strings.

You had been to your fair share of lavish affairs, but this was a whole new world of revelry.

Between the loud percussion of the musicians’ instruments, the aroma of the heavily seasoned foods and the leering gazes of overexcited men, you began to feel overstimulated. You stuck close to your father as he led you into the heart of the throng, finding comfort in the familiar when surrounded by the foreign. Better the devil you know.

Oblivious to your discomfort, he reprimands you under his breath. “Stop clinging to me like a child, lest our venture fail before it has even begun.”

You’d been so taken by your surroundings that you hadn’t registered where your father was leading you to. Now you stood in front of the two men at the centre of this affair, who were seated majestically upon a golden threaded couch. You prayed you didn’t look like the bewildered little girl you certainly felt like. 

With a grand, sweeping gesture of his hand, your father bowed. 

“Imperators, what an honour it is to partake in these…wondrous celebrations with your Majesties.”

“Senator,” one of them said, voice smooth like honey but with an edge that demanded caution. His face bore a smile, but his tone was calm and measured. “What a pleasure it is to see you.” The twitch of his eyebrow suggested otherwise. “In a more agreeable mood, might I add.” The man beside him sniggers.

More agreeable? Whatever could that mean? For the second time in one night you found yourself deciphering cryptic words. Father must have angered the Emperors, somehow. 

“And you’ve brought…” He trailed off, looking at your father expectantly.

“Yes, Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla,” with a single clap and an officious clearing of his throat he stepped to the side, no longer obscuring their vision of you. “May I present my daughter…”

You managed to regain your composure, exhibiting a grace only a lady of the upper echelons of society could possess when you sunk into a deep curtsy. Lifting your gaze, you were met with the hair-raising sensation of being observed. Not just observed – scrutinised.  

A pair of eyes, deep brown like rich soil, trailed over your form. The man that addressed your father with contempt - Geta. His brows furrowed as he took the sight of you in. Lined with kohl much like yours, his eyes were smouldering in their examination.

Another pair, red-rimmed and cloudy with the haze of inebriation, were the perfect contrast. The man that sniggered - Caracalla. With irises of a cold blue hue, they would have been intimidating if they belonged to a face other than his, what with his rosy rounded cheeks and seemingly perpetual impish grin. 

Despite their differences, the relation between the men was clear as day. Flaming locks of hair and the gold laurels that circled their heads confirmed their identities. These were the infamous twin tyrants.

But it wasn’t just the weight of their eyes that you felt. Lounging around the couch in various positions and in varying states of undress, was an entourage of courtesans. You did your best to avert your gaze, as theirs bore into you. 

And what a pleasant sight you were. Adorned with ornate jewellery and clad in the finest of silks, you were easily one of the best dressed at the banquet. Before a word had been uttered, your appearance relayed a message – you were a lady of fine stature, more than accustomed to luxury and thus, would be well-suited to palace life.

Well-suited to be Empress.

Not taking any chances, your father decided not to leave anything up for interpretation.

He began listing your virtues as if reading from a handbook - 100 Things to Look For in a Roman Wife. He spoke of your piety, your beauty, your fertility. With every trait of yours that was mentioned, you grew increasingly more irate and keeping the docile smile on your face became increasingly more difficult. 

“...and lest I forget, she is most gifted with the lyre-”

“How quaint.” Caracalla interrupted, a peal of childish laughter bubbling from his lips. “He presents his daughter’s hand as if he is lobbying for a law to be passed!”

Geta scoffed, “Or a conquest to be forfeited.”

At this, Caracalla doubled over in laughter, the overfilled cup of wine in his hand threatening to spill over the rim with every jostle of his frame. Clearly there’s a joke you’re missing here.

There’s a wicked glint in Geta’s eyes that tells you this joke has guile. 

“Three sennights have lapsed since you last stood before us, spewing nonsense about abandoning our pursuit of Britannica.” The vitriol that coated his voice strung a discordant note in the mellifluous tune of his brother’s continuous laughter. “Yet here you stand in your Emperors’ palace,” he gestured at the ongoing frivolities. “Drinking and making merry with spoils from the very war you so vehemently opposed.” 

Ah. It finally clicked. From what you had picked up from your father and his associates’ discussions, you knew that this conquest had long since been under contention among the Senators. The campaign was taking longer than anticipated, and required more reinforcements than expected. The Roman force was fatigued. At home, the starving plebeians of Rome were one famine away from revolting, and without the full support of the army, politicians relied on empty promises to appease their constituents and maintain order. Yet, the Emperors were adamant on expanding Rome’s borders.

For whatever reason, at the last Senate meeting three weeks ago your father had been the unfortunate soul to suggest that the troops should draw back. And now he stood before them at the celebration of the successful conquest, presenting you as a bargaining chip to secure his pardon. Opposing the Emperors was costly, and he decided you were going to pay that price on his behalf.

Geta leaned his head on his hands as he asked, “Tell me, Senator, what makes you think you will triumph this time?”

You watched your father’s reaction with bitter disbelief. For the first time in your life, your silver-tongued father, the man that had landed you this fate, floundered for words.

Fine. If this was the hand dealt to you, so be it. But you were going to do this your way.

“Your Majesties,” At the sound of your sweet voice, Geta’s gaze affixed itself to your face. Instantly, he was beguiled. “If I may…” 

With the slow incline of his head, you were permitted to speak. 

“I know little of war,” you feigned ignorance. “But I do know that defying the odds to bring glory to Rome is no small feat.” Preening at your praise, Geta leaned forward in his seat, a silent encouragement for you to continue. “Rome and her citizens are fortunate to be led by you, Imperators, and I am grateful to be in the presence of such wise rulers.”

His mouth spread into a self-satisfied smirk. “I bask in your praises, my lady. It pleases me to see that someone in your family has a semblance of loyalty to the powers above them” A pointed look was shot at your father. “You see, all those that oppose their Emperors,” His venomous gaze roved over the group of Senators shifting uneasily as they watched this ordeal. “Will soon learn that there is only one way for a man to wield power.” He held up his index finger for emphasis and paused for suspense. “War.”

With all the self-assurance of a man that has never truly been challenged, he stalked towards you.

“What other power can bring a man to his knees and cause him to surrender?”

“I can think of nothing greater than war!” Caracalla piped up from behind him.

“Yes, brother.” Geta held his cup of wine up in agreement. “By no other means can a man wield such power. I am sure my lady agrees?” He offered his right hand, each finger as bejewelled as the next.

The ultimatum he presented you with was clear. Kiss the ring, let all be forgiven and allow this encounter to end pleasantly. Refuse the ring, and…well, don’t refuse the ring.

But compliance was predictable, and would only get you so far. Your beauty and charm had ignited a spark of interest in him, but that wasn’t enough. You needed that spark to burst into a flame.

With swan-like grace you knelt before him and take his hand, smiling inwardly when his eyes followed your descent with rapture. You didn’t miss his quick intake of breath when you halted your movements to look up and meet his eye, lips an inch away from the stunning signet ring.

“Upon second thought,” You tilted your head as if considering his words. “There exists another power great enough to make a man kneel in surrender.” At your bold words, the hand you held tightened around your fingers until he had a firm grip of your hand. “A power so great, even Emperors are not immune.”

Gasps of shock came from the onlookers sober enough to process what they had heard.

“Impertinence!” Caracalla’s cry of protest tore you from the captivity of his brother’s gaze. 

“Forgive my daughter, she oversteps her bounds.” Your father spat the words out and fixed you with a look of warning, a late and unappreciated attempt to de-escalate the night’s proceedings.

With a wave of Geta’s hand, his words were dismissed. For the sake of keeping your resolve, you pretended not to see the Praetorians return their drawn swords to their scabbards.

You returned to the intense stare of brown eyes narrowed in… intrigue? Suspicion? You weren’t sure, but you had his attention. 

“And what power would that be?”

Your gentle smile had him entranced. “The strike of a drum, the strum of a lyre’s strings. Music, my Imperator, holds much power.”

See, while your father was busy waxing lyrical about you, you had been studying Geta closely. As he listened to others speak, his fingers unconsciously tapped the thigh of the courtesan perched on the arm of the couch. But they were not tapping any old rhythm – they tapped to the beat of the percussion in the background.

The ring your lips had puckered up to kiss was not embossed with an imprint of Mars, the god of war, but Apollo, god of music. Geta the Emperor championed conflict and violence, but Geta the man held music dear.

Rich eyes twinkled as his laugh rang in your ears. “Ah, yes. Your father mentioned your skill with the lyre. He failed to mention your humour.” He didn’t believe you.

“I assure you, Imperator, my lyre-playing is unparalleled.” You indulged him with a coy smile.

“You believe you would best our most talented musician? That your playing would put your Emperors’ finest to shame?” He challenged your claim.

“Given the chance, I would outplay each of the Nine Muses,” you asserted boldly. You rose to his challenge.

His eyes gleamed with ardour as he regarded your statement with a raised brow. “I await the day I hear you play with baited breath, my lady.”

“It would be my pleasure, my liege.”

Not risking any more excitement, you curtsied and took your father’s arm as he guided you towards the outskirts of the atrium, and away from watching eyes. He wasted no time expressing his displeasure.

“Have you lost your senses, girl? Has some strange plague come over your mind?!” He released an exasperated sigh. “You should have held that tongue of yours.”

 “Oh, and left you there, stammering like a bumbling fool? Father,” you uttered the paternal term without an ounce of familial affection. “You entrusted this ploy into my hands, so leave it there.”

Anger flashed across his face like a clap of thunder. Before he could berate you for your indolence, however, a piercing shriek stole the moment.

You pushed through the crowd to see the commotion, weaving past bodies stilled with shock at whatever it is they were witnessing. When you got to the centre, you were met with a most harrowing display of fraternal discord.

Geta lay sprawled out on the marble floor, the corded muscle of his limbs tensing as he strained to hold back the man towering over him, wielding a dagger above his head. Caracalla. 

At first glance one may have supposed this fray was borne of anger, but with the spittle flying out of gritted teeth that gnashed and snarled like those of some inhuman beast, the incoherent stream of words and the crazed look in his eyes, it was clear that he did not have full agency of his person.

The rumours were true. He was having one of his infamous episodes.

Your eyes darted from Praetorian to Praetorian, waiting for one of them, any of them to take action. Their hands rested on the hilt of their swords, hesitation rooting them to their spots. To raise a hand against Caracalla would be treason, punishable by death. To ignore the distress of Geta would be treason, also punishable by death. They were at an impasse.

The chatter of mingling guests and the ambience of the musicians’ instruments had long since stopped, leaving the grunts of the brothers to take their place. All watched on in stunned silence, revelers turned horrified spectators.

Their scrambling continued. Geta managed to hook a leg around Caracalla’s ankle, toppling him over to join him on the cold marble. Wine cups clanged as they were knocked to the ground, collateral. The cacophony of sound nearly masked the sound of Geta’s desperate plea.

“Break the spell! Break the spell!”

Moved by an impetus you couldn’t explain, you barreled further through the crowd until you reached the musicians’ corner. You grabbed the lyre from the hands of the bard (who was too focused on the ongoing tumult to protest), and started strumming the tune of a nursery rhyme favoured by Roman children both rich and poor. 

Dulcet tones and sweet symphonies echoed through the chamber as you sang of Rome’s rolling hills, of fair maidens awaiting the return of brave soldiers, of the Tiber River’s ebb and flow.

Those around you listened intently, enraptured. They stepped aside, clearing a path for you towards the quarreling brothers. You walked forward as you sang, and as you reached the last verse you stood a few feet away from where they squirmed, limbs akimbo. 

From your position you saw the exact moment the muscles in Caracalla’s face relaxed, and his body went limp. He released a weak whimper better-suited to an injured animal than the tyrannical emperor he was rumoured to be.

Eyes fixed on you over his brother’s shoulder, he dropped the dagger as if compelled. Tears began to run down his face as he wailed, balling himself up into a foetal position. When they noticed his change in disposition, his entourage took the chance to spirit him away from the room. 

The final note of your song rang out. A beat passed as everyone came to, as if they too were held captive in a trance. Then, a slow, steady clap from one became a roaring applause, your fellow guests lauding your performance as if it had been planned. 

Chest heaving from exertion, Geta used a three-legged (formerly four-legged) stool to pull himself from the floor and adjusted his toga. At the raise of his hand, the clapping stopped. Flopping back to sit on the couch, he gestured for you to come forward. His expression was inscrutable. 

Before you could scrape together an apology, or some sort of explanation, you were utterly disarmed by the grin that spread across his face. 

“My lady,” He huffed between words, still catching his breath. “I stand corrected. It appears your flair with the lyre is equally as bewitching as your looks.”  

Your cheeks heated up at his confession of attraction towards you. “It pleases me that you think of me so, my Emperor.”

“Mmm.” He hummed, dark eyes taking their time to appraise you. “The power to bring a man to his knees can be very dangerous, you know. I believe it would be in the best interest of Rome and her citizens if such power was… managed by the capable hands of their Emperor.”

The chill of deja vu ran down your spine when he extended his hand in your direction. A second invitation to kiss the ring. Most people only get one.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

As your lips made contact with the cold metal of Apollo’s face and you sealed your fate, you closed your eyes and said a silent prayer. When you opened them again, you found eyes the colour of rich soil searching yours. 

He turned the hand that gripped his and pressed a surprisingly sweet kiss to the back of it. His kisses travelled up your arm, growing more and more fervent, the plush of his lips leaving warmth on every spot they pressed against. He used his hold on you to pull you towards him until you were close enough to smell the heady scent of patchouli mixed with the subtle musk of perspiration, and count the freckles on his speckled cheeks, peeking through the layer of makeup. 

His palm ran up and down your arm repeatedly, inching further up each time.

“You will make a home for yourself here, in these palace walls.” Brown eyes gazed into yours, full of a veneration you couldn’t fathom. “And you shall be my little Muse.” 

As if the troubles of your life thus far had not been a sufficient allotment of suffering, the Fates had now tasked you with weathering the twin tempers of the Emperors Geta and Caracalla. And surviving.

Gods help you.

A/N: thank you ever so much for reading ! i'm working on part two so let me know if you want me to post it when it's done <3

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated x

© onyxstyx tumblr 2025

[nonotnolan]

Guess Who - College Edition

The week after the holidays was always a stressful time for Tyler. It had a lot going for it, of course— school hadn’t started yet, the parties would soon be picking up in full swing— but the Greek Life Traditions had the potential to be hell for a closeted gay man such as himself. Sigma Epsilon Chi had a tradition that when school wasn't in session, a handful of guys would swap bodies in pairs for the week. Everyone would try to guess who had swapped with who, and though it was only for bragging rights, some guys took it very seriously.

Once he knew that he would only be guessing, he had to admit it was actually kind of fun trying to tell who was themselves and who was pretending to be someone else. The anxiety happened when the participants were still being decided. Some of his fellow frat brothers were legacy members whose bodies were just as average as his own, but just as many of them were attractive, athletic men who rushed for the sake of the social status. The thought of having to spend time in a body far better than his own… sure, it was exciting, but how could he possibly abstain from the temptation for that long?

Well, he was about to find out. Ethan had tapped him out to be one of the swapped, and he was about to find out whose body he would be taking for the week. It wasn’t the first time that Tyler was walking down to the basement where the spell circle was carved into the concrete floor, but somehow it never got any easier. Last time he swapped with Devin, an engineering student whose body wasn’t too much of a change from his own, but he had a feeling that his luck was about to run out.

“I’m swapping with Tyler? Hell yeah, we’re gonna fool everybody!”

He was swapping with Blaine. Of course he was swapping with Blaine. The man was one of the hottest guys in the fraternity, and the unknowing recipient of Tyler’s biggest crush. He exuded confidence without even trying, and the way that the muscle definition of his arms bulged out of his sleeves never failed to get Tyler excited. Not that Blaine usually wore shirts around the house— it was rare to see him wearing anything that covered his chest unless he was having to go to class. His shoulders were impossibly wide, and his body was a temple of muscle. Worse still, he was so friendly and easygoing that he had no idea how embarrassed Tyler felt whenever he was near him. There was no way he would be able to spend time in that body without wanking himself senseless. “Fuck me, I’m going to have to swap bodies with Blaine.”

Blaine looked at him with a bit of a hurt expression on his face. “What, you don’t want to swap bodies with me? Come on, Tyler, this body is great!”

Shit, had he said that out loud? “No, I didn’t mean… of course it’s great! It’s just that, your body is so good it’s kind of intimidating. It makes me feel like if I eat junk food in your body, I’ll ruin it,” Tyler said, rushing to tell him a white lie. "It's good, it's just... it's a lot."

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Blaine said, patting him on the shoulder. “We’re just two guys swapping bodies. I can go a few days without working out at the gym. And hey, it’s not like I’m new to this whole body swapping thing. If you wanna get laid while you’re in my body-- honestly, I take it as a compliment.” He gave Tyler a playful push on the shoulder. “You know I’m gonna try to do the same, right? You’re a good looking guy! I’m taking you out to the bars to get drunk, and I bet I’ll score while I’m there. It’s still a vacation week, everyone is looking to get laid.”

Tyler just stood there, blinking, as he tried to comprehend what Blaine had just said. Empty compliments aside, had he really granted him permission to do anything he wanted? He barely registered Ethan guiding him over to the spell circle and uttering the incantation. Blaine had just given him permission to get laid inside of his body.

Tyler rummaged through Blaine’s closet, playing dress-up with his new muscular frame. Most of the man’s wardrobe consisted of sweatpants, gym shorts, and free t-shirts. It wasn’t surprising, but it was disappointing. He was planning to dropbox some photos of Blaine’s body to his own personal account for later usage, and he was hoping for a few sophisticated outfits to contrast Blaine’s gym bro vibes. He was also planning to take Blaine up on his offer to get laid, just… perhaps in a way that he hadn’t intended when he gave Tyler blank permission. He pulled up the Google Play store on Blaine’s phone, and searched for Grindr only to discover it had already been downloaded. His heart started to race faster— he hadn’t seen the app on any of the main screens, did that mean Blaine had hidden it away in a folder somewhere? Surely it was more likely that someone else had downloaded it during a prior swap? Well, there was only one way to find out. He took a deep break and clicked ‘open’.

He couldn’t believe his luck— it was an active profile. Bi_greekguy_Est_02. No profile photo, and a description that just read “discreet, message for pics”. This changed everything. He absolutely had to fuck his own body. But how could he pull Blaine into a private discussion without being suspicious? The two of them never really crossed paths, so anything direct would be incredibly suspicious. He could pretend to ask for help, but it would have to be something Tyler could actually help with. He had fixed Jacob’s computer once, and Blaine didn’t have a reputation for being tech savvy… that could work? It was worth the risk. Tyler walked downstairs to his body’s room, enjoying the heft of his shoulders as he walked. “Is Tyler in there?” he said, casually knocking on the doorframe. “I’ve got an issue with my laptop, and Jacob said you might be able to fix it.”

Blaine emerged from the room, glaring at him in concern but otherwise playing along. “I… yeah, Blaine I can take a look at it,” he said. “Lead the way, I guess.” He followed Tyler back to his body’s room, and made sure that the door was shut before beginning to yell at him. “What in the hell are you thinking, dude! I never come down to the basement! What in the hell could be so important that you— ohh.” Tyler responded by showing him the Grindr profile he’d found. He crossed his arms, scowling defensively. “I… yeah, okay. So what, I’m bisexual. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that I’m a gay man,” Tyler said. “If I had known I wasn’t the only non-straight guy here, I would have tried my luck ages ago. I know you want to win this weekend, but some things are more fun than trying to fool the rest of the guys. I don’t care if we get identified immediately, as long as we have fun. I thought you were out of my league. I still think you’re out of my league. But now that I’m inside of you? You can bet your ass I’ll be taking advantage of every minute.” He flexed for emphasis, watching the definition on Blaine’s arm.

Blaine laughed. “Well, if we’re being honest… I’ve always thought you looked like a cute bottom, but I didn’t know if you were gonna get offended if I asked. I didn’t want to risk my reputation as the macho gym bro to ask you if you were gay. You want to know why I was excited to swap with you? I was excited to end up in your body so that I could take it out to all the gay bars. I’m gonna get your ass railed so hard that it’ll still be sore after we swap back.”

Tyler couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I… you thought I was cute?”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Blaine said, as he started to blush. “You don’t have to be aggressively masculine to be desirable. We are absolutely becoming fuck buddies once this is over. You can be my tutor if you want to keep it discreet.”

Tyler pressed down on Blaine’s shoulders, taking advantage of his body’s light stature to lower him to his knees. “Who said anything about waiting until this is over?” Tyler started to slowly untie his sweatpants, letting the unspoken tension build as he adjusted the waistband of his boxers. “Do you really expect me to believe you haven’t fantasized about getting fucked by your own cock?”

Blaine looked at the eight inches of erect cock positioned a few inches in front of his face, and then looked up into the eyes of his body. He couldn’t help but laugh. “We’re not going to make it out to the bars this weekend, are we?”

[hoe4hotchner]

the team meeting aaron's lawyer!wife who's personality is similar to his + she's the best in her field

Langston & Bell | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Lawyer wife!reader | WC: 1.2k | CW: Not really anything except for a little law jargon and mentions of a case the BAU is working on.

A/N: My brain hurts from looking up law terminology, and I'm not even sure if I used all the words correctly

The glass doors of Langston & Bell opened as Hotch led the rest of his team inside. The air felt heavy—as they entered—from the scent of freshly brewed coffee and a faint lemony aroma.

The firm itself was one of the most prestigious ones in all of Virginia, and its reputation suited it. Everything about the space was designed to impress—shining marble floors in the lobby, towering bookshelves filled with thick leather-bound volumes of law books and journals, and abstract art that screamed of a space aimed to do business with rich and pretentious people.

Emily glanced around, clearly trying to process how they’d ended up here. “Langston & Bell?” she muttered under her breath. “Isn’t this place out of our league?”

“They’re not dealing with criminal justice,” Spencer pointed out. “They specialize in corporate litigation and high-profile estate law. The firm is known for taking on cases that require absolute discretion.” Emily tried her best not to roll her eyes at Spencer's outburst of knowledge but failed.

Hotch didn’t respond, he kept his pace steady as he approached the front desk. His usual stone-faced demeanor was on full display, his features—although set not completely in a frown—were unreadable. He seemed unbothered by the hushed stares they received from the staff as they had entered with their badges held out in front of them.

The receptionist, a young woman with a straight posture and a sharp smile, greeted them. “Good afternoon. How may I assist you?”

Hotch stepped forward, his voice even. “We’re with the FBI. We’re looking for the attorney who handled the probate case for Samuel Larkin.”

The receptionist’s fingers danced quickly over her keyboard, her expression unchanged. “That would be Attorney Hotchner.”

Dead silence.

Emily blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say Hotchner?”

“Yes,” the receptionist replied, unfazed, almost on the brink of annoyance. “Would you like me to see if she’s available?”

“She,” Morgan echoed, his brows furrowing a little as his gaze flipped from the receptionist to Hotch.

Before anyone could recover from their shock, the sound of sharp heal clicks echoed through the lobby.

“Aaron,” came a clear voice from behind. “If this is your idea of surprising me, I’ll admit it’s more creative than flowers. But I have a deposition in thirty minutes.”

The team turned as one, their collective gazes landing on the woman who had just entered the room. You were dressed in a tailored navy suit that emphasized your poised demeanor. Your expression was both curious and faintly amused as your eyes locked on Hotch.

“Counselor,” he greeted smoothly, his tone carrying a subtle warmth that the team rarely heard.

“Counselor?” Rossi asked, a slow grin forming as his gaze flicked between you and Hotch.

Your lips quirked up in a small smile as you approached, your heels clicking against the marble with each step. “I assume this is your team?”

“It is,” Hotch confirmed.

You turned your attention to the group, giving them a brief once-over with an expression that wasn’t unkind but clearly measured. “Well, where are my manners? I’m Y/N Hotchner, senior litigation partner here at Langston & Bell. And yes, I can see the wheels turning in all your heads.”

Morgan crossed his arms, already grinning. “Oh, I’ve got a lot of questions right now.”

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Feel free to ask them, Agent Morgan. I’ve been cross-examined by some of the sharpest minds in the country—I’m sure I can handle you.”

JJ stepped forward, clearly trying to keep her surprise in check. “Wait, you’re married?”

You tilted your head toward Hotch, your expression softening just a fraction. “You didn’t tell them?”

“It never came up,” Hotch replied with a shrug, though the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes didn’t escape you.

You shook your head, exhaling a soft laugh. “Aaron’s great at compartmentalizing, isn’t he? Well, to officially answer your question—yes, I’m his wife. And judging by your expressions, this is news to you.”

“Big news,” Emily muttered, still processing.

Hotch cleared his throat, subtly redirecting the conversation. “We need access to the probate records for Samuel Larkin. Anything that might help us build our case.”

Your demeanor shifted instantly, professionalism overtaking the playful edge. “Aaron, you know I can’t just hand over client information without a court order.”

“We’re only asking for publicly available records,” he clarified.

You studied him for a moment, a silent exchange passing between you. Then you turned to your assistant, who stood nearby. “Jane, pull the Larkin docket and bring me all publicly filed documents. Annotate them if you have time, and leave them on my desk before your shift ends.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jane replied, already moving toward the elevator.

“You always find a way around the rules,” Hotch said, his voice was low but carrying a note of fondness.

“And you love that about me,” you shot back with a wink, your eyes glinting with mischief.

Morgan leaned closer to Emily, his voice just loud enough for her to hear. “I don’t know what’s more surprising—the fact that he’s married, the fact that she's a lawyer, or the fact that she might be scarier than him.”

Although Jane hadn't gone through the records yet, she sent you a digital copy as soon as she had found them. You walked the team through them with ease. Every legal term you used was calculated, giving away as little about your client as you could, while still helping your husband and his team. You made sure to translate every dense legal jargon into actionable insights every time you saw one of their faces pull an expression.

“Here,” you said, pointing to a transaction on the financial statement. “These wire transfers are from an offshore account linked to Larkin. It’s not evidence of criminal activity, but it raises enough red flags to warrant further investigation.” If Larkin found out you had helped the feds, you could be in big trouble, you thought as you revealed the account.

Spencer leaned in, his eyes lighting up with understanding. “If we trace the accounts, we might uncover a connection to our unsub.”

“Precisely,” you replied, offering him a small nod of approval.

By the time the team wrapped up, they had everything they needed to move forward. As they gathered their materials, you leaned against the edge of the table, folding your arms as you looked at Hotch.

“Dinner at seven?” you asked, your voice softer, the edge of professionalism giving way to something more personal.

“Seven,” he confirmed, his tone lighter than usual.

You smiled, leaning in just enough to lower your voice. “Try not to scare anyone off before then, okay?”

“No promises,” he replied, his lips twitching upward in the faintest of smiles.

As the team exited the building, Morgan shook his head in disbelief. “She is definitely scarier than Hotch”

Emily grinned. “I think I like her better.”

“I like her too,” Rossi added with a chuckle.

Hotch walked ahead, the faint smile still playing on his lips, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. The team had seen enough to know he’d married his perfect match—an equal who could still challenge him enough to keep him on his toes.

[geneviveleocardius]

i want y’all to know that this isn’t okay, i’m not romanticizing it, much less normalizing it in any way.

simon riley never saw himself as a good man. not even close. he knew his flaws too well—sharp-edged and cutting like the knives he carried. you deserved better, he told himself a hundred times, but selfishness had sunk its claws deep into him. you were his, and the thought of you walking away felt like a death sentence.

lately, though, he couldn’t ignore the signs. you weren’t as warm as you used to be, weren’t lingering in his arms like before. your laughter, once so easy and free around him, had quieted. he told himself it wasn’t a big deal, that you’d come around. but when he caught you sitting alone, staring out the window with an expression he couldn’t read, doubt began to gnaw at him.

you were slipping away.

he couldn’t let that happen.

that night, when you crawled into bed beside him, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close. his grip was firm, unyielding. you stiffened at first but didn’t pull away.

“what’s wrong with you lately?” you asked, your voice soft, almost cautious.

he knew what you wanted—what you’d confided to him during one of those rare moments where walls had come down. you wanted a family, a child to hold and love. he’d scoffed at the idea back then, brushed it off as something far too tender for someone like him. but now… now he saw it differently.

he saw it as a way to keep you.

he didn’t answer right away, his face buried against the curve of your neck. he breathed you in, grounding himself.

“you’re mine,” he said finally, voice low and rough. “you know that, don’t you?”

you shifted slightly, trying to put some distance between you, but his hold tightened. “simon—”

“no,” he interrupted, his tone sharper now. “i mean it. you’re mine. you don’t get to leave me.”

“i’m not trying to leave you,” you muttered, but he didn’t bought it.

he didn’t believe you. not fully. and that fear, that bone-deep terror of losing you, made him desperate.

“simon,” you murmured, your voice laced with sleep.

“shh,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “just relax.”

you didn’t resist as he tugged you closer, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh, spreading you beneath him. his movements were slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment.

he didn’t speak. he didn’t want to give you a chance to question him. instead, he focused on the feel of your skin, the way your body responded to his touch. he buried himself in you, his breath hot against your shoulder as he moved, his grip on your hips possessive.

he knew exactly what he was doing.

he wasn’t thinking about the consequences, not fully. all he could focus on was the need to keep you tethered to him. and he knew what you wanted—had heard it in the way you spoke about children, about the family you dreamed of.

this was his way of giving it to you, of ensuring you’d stay.

when it was over, he stayed inside you, his hand splayed over your stomach as if to seal the promise he’d just made—without words, without asking. you didn’t say anything, your breathing still uneven as you lay there, and he took your silence as acceptance.

he told himself it was for the best. you’d understand eventually. and when the time came, when you held that baby in your arms, you’d stay. you’d have to.

because simon riley didn’t lose the things that mattered to him.

he’d make sure of it.

[genesisami]

First post on tumblr, I have NO IDEA how this works

Random before bed idea

CW: somewhat NSFW, nothing heavy but mentions of sex! All characters aged up to be 18+! Reader gender doesn’t matter

Not proofread :p

Reader who has a situationship with Rin, the two hook up occasionally no strings attached type relationship.

The both of you were highschool… friends. Despite your not so secret admiration and crush on his brother Sae, the two of you got along quite well. You two would often hang out on your own accords, playing games or having him best you at soccer. You would talk to Sae almost as if Rin wasn’t there, asking him to join the two of you. He would always decline though, much to Rin’s pleasure.

Rin couldn’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable with the way you gushed over his brother. He would constantly try to get your attention more by showing off his soccer skills or working out a little bit more to match his brother’s physique.

After a while, your relationship with Rin began to escalate. The two of you becoming more and more intimate with eachother.

The first time you two had intercourse it felt great, it was just you, Rin and the creaking of the bed. Though, the problems began to start when you neared your first climax with him. While orgasming you yelled out his brother’s name rather than the male actually having sex with you. “Sae…!!”

Rin stared down at your flushed face, his face showing confusion but angry hidden beneath. You apologised of course and said that your mind was just a mess due to the situation.

But it didn’t stop there, the more you two became intimate the further you drifted apart as friends.

In your eyes he was just a substitute for the real sae.

Situationship!Rin who will always be there when you need him to fill your hole

Situationship!Rin who feels a little disheartened when you ask him to wear one of Sae’s jerseys

Situationship!Rin who forces himself to use the same cologne as his brother does before meeting up with you, otherwise you won’t touch and caress his body at all

Situationship!Rin who feels pangs of jealousy when you call out his brothers name while climaxing instead of his

Situationship!Rin who loves making out with you during sex, its the only way he can be assured you won’t say his brothers name.

Situationship!Rin who wishes he could fight the urge to stay hard inside of you when you call out Sae’s name. Wishing that he could just go limp on you in rebellion, but instead his desire for you is too strong, being able to pump load’s inside of you as many times as you’d like.

Situationship!Rin who one day decides to fuck you infront of a mirror, to force you to see him and see him making you feel amazing. But that day he notices how long it takes you to climax as opposed to usual.

Situationship!Rin who hopes everyday that you’ll tell him you love him for himself. Not pretending to be Sae or anyone else.

Situationship!Rin who sees you hanging out with Sae mid practice, his heart about to explode from the sight. He as right there, you don’t need Sae, you have Rin. He can be Sae for you, he can be better, just love him please.

One night Rin hears you come over to the Itoshi estate, his heart rushes thinking you’ve come to confess to him. Only to have his feelings crushed when he walks out of his room and sees you talking to Sae.

That night he could hear the sounds of a creaking bed and moans leaking through the wall separating his room from Sae’s. He feels straight envy as he can tell your moans sound more, pleasureful, energetic, loving.

That night Rin couldn’t help himself from jerking off to the sounds of you moaning, wishing it was him making you do that.

One day, just one day Rin hoped that you might see him as just more than a Sae-lookalike fuck buddy.

I hope this was alright for my first post! Lmk if there’s any characters or whatever i should write about!

[probablyreadinsmut]

The Cooldown.

One shot.

Pairing: Boyfriend! Joel Miller x Mid/Plus size Afab!Reader

Pictures used are just for reference purposes, you are the lucky gal in this fic

Summary: Your boyfriend can't resist offering you a little post workout fun. Completely inspired by those pictures of Pedro from yesterday.

This one goes out to all my thigh riding girlie's (gn) <3

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Established relationship, AU no outbreak, Mentions of being body conscious in the past, vague descriptions of being fuller figured nothing specific though, sweaty post gym thigh riding, Praise, dirty talk. Undefined legal age gap. Spanking.

Not beta'd and probably not proofread very well, putting the disorder in adhd, as ever. ✌️

Word Count: 1.1k

Masterlist

“C’mere baby” Joel’s patting his thick thigh with a lecherous grin on his face as he’s watching you peel off your gym wear, the damp nylon is sticking to every inch of you.

You respond with a soft snort “What do you mean come here? Joel, I feel gross. That work out nearly killed me today.” It had been his idea to start going to the gym together, another ‘couples bonding’ experience he’d said. He was big into that kind of thing, but honestly you were pretty sure it was so he could watch your tits and ass jiggle, he thought he was slick.

“Do I look like I care darlin’? Get that beautiful ass over here and ride my thigh, c’mon...” It’s a command and an invitation all in one, your boyfriend of two years knew what he wanted, he’s never sugar-coated it and that horny, feral part of your brain loved that about him.

So, you shuck off your sports bra over your head, tossing it into the hamper. You can feel the sweat that had collected beneath the material was now running down your sternum, trickling to your belly button. You’d already be in the shower if you were alone, but these days doing anything alone is a huge feat in itself where Joel is concerned. On the days he’s not working, or when Sarah is at school, he’s with you, making the most of your time together. Usually naked.

You watch as his once brown eyes go almost completely black with desire, pupils blown wide, the bulge in his sinfully short shorts is impossible to ignore. You’d tease him a little more if you weren’t so fucking turned on. Maybe a joint session at the gym had been for both his benefit and yours. He’d been eyeing you in your figure hugging leggings and tight little sports bra while you’d been ogling his thighs and ass the whole time.

You should have known that once you made it back to your place, you’d both be spending the rest of the day engaging in a more horizontal form of exercise.

So you tug off your leggings, shimmying out of them as you take your panties off with them, his eyes never leave you for a moment, his gaze is both predatory and appreciative. You’re his. Every day he thanks his lucky stars for that.

You put on a little show for him as you strut towards the bed where he sits, his thighs parted wide, leaning back on his palms. Your hips shake hypnotically with every step. Before Joel, you hadn’t loved your body that much, but now with the way he worships every dip and curve, whether it be with his eyes, lips, tongue or fingers, now you love your fuller frame. Gone are the days where you’d be covering up in t-shirts that swamped you at the gym, you were beautiful and you didn’t feel the need to hide any more.

You lower yourself onto his thick thigh, more defined these days, he’d said a while ago that he wanted to stay in shape now he was getting ‘older’, if not for his sake then for the sake of his babygirl and you were more than happy to support him, they way he supported you in everything you wanted to achieve.

“That’s it” He coos, leaning back just pinning you with a stare that has you melting already “Fuck darlin’ look at you, pretty as a picture. Y’look good just like this...”

You preen under his praise, a little giggle leaving you as you plant your hands on his broad shoulders and start to glide along his thigh, the ridges and hairs tickle your clit just right. “Maybe we just skip the gym next time... Stay home and fuck all day instead?” That earns you a sharp spank, making you gasp, soothed by his thick fingers pawing at the fleshy part of your cheek. It’s a sweet sting that’s left there, one you know has probably left a red mark, one that has your cunt clenching around nothing nonetheless, dribbling onto his naked thigh.

“I could spend all day in this pretty little pussy, y’know that” His hands come up to your hips, kneading the soft flesh under his fingertips “But there’s just something about you... All hot and sweaty out in public that makes my motor run baby... maybe next time y’let me fuck you in the locker room huh? Stay nice an’ quiet for me while I bend you over one of those benches? That sound good sugar?” he’s guiding you now, pressing you down harder against his thigh, urging you to roll those gorgeous hips of yours.

With a breathy moan you nod and he spanks you again, the slap echoing throughout the bedroom.

“Use your words sweetness, need t’hear you say it.”

You feel your release quickly creeping up on you, his thigh is getting slicker by the second. You grind yourself deeper agaisnt his thigh with his guidance giving your swollen little clit all the attention she so desperately needs. “Yes! Fuck baby- P-please next time... N-next time fuck me just like that...”

He can feel you tensing up on top of him, he can hear the little hitches in your breath all the subtle cues that tell him you’re about to make a mess on his thigh.

“That’s it darlin’ just like that, keep goin’.. Fuck... After this we’re gonna go take a shower together and I’m gonna bury my cock so deep inside you, that you won’t know where you end and I begin... Gonna make this tight little pussy sing for me” His jaw is set and tense as he grits his teeth, urging you to move faster, you look between the two of you seeing his cock straining painfully against the stretchy fabric of his shorts, begging to come out and play.

You throw your head back, nails digging into his taut flesh as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave of pleasure. The deep, filthy groan that leaves him as he watches you fall apart is one that will be engrained in your memory for years to come.

His thigh is soaked, he can feel it running down his knee and he fucking loves it. Your cries of ecstasy are just dying down when he releases his grip on your hips and helps you up onto your feet, holding you upright since you’re knees are buckling like a deer taking their first steps.

He’s guiding you towards the ensuite when he ducks his head down to drawl in your ear “C’mon baby, let’s get you all cleaned up so I can make you dirty again”.  

Tags: @almostempty @itwasntimethatdidit40 @joelmillerisapunk @baronessvonglitter @syd-djarin @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @guiltyasdave

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 10

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this. Labour.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 10 of 12!

“Breathe,” Victoria kept insisting.

“You are doing so well, Choupinette,” her mother cooed.

Colette was quite certain that she was going to die. 

At least it felt like it.

The pain was overwhelming. It didn’t feel like her body could take any more of it. The contractions were so strong and the pain was blinding in its intensity. She wasn’t certain if she could do this anymore.

“I can’t do this,” Colette choked out.

“Yes, you can,” Victoria insisted. Her voice was firm and steady. “You absolutely can do this. You’re already so far along, you just have to push. You can do this.”

"Just breathe," her mother said soothingly, stroking back her hair. "You are doing so well."

But she wasn’t doing well. 

She wanted Max. No, she needed Max.

She needed him so badly. She didn’t want to do this by herself. 

Colette cried out in pain as another very strong contraction hit her, clenching her teeth through it. "Max," she sobbed. "I need Max."

"I know," Victoria said, stroking her hand. "I know you do. But you can do this. Just a little bit longer, okay? It won’t be long now."

She didn’t want to do this without him. But what other choice did she have?

A strangled sob escaped her throat as she clutched her mother’s hand desperately as another contraction hit.

“We’re going to need you to push now,” the doctor said firmly. “You need to start pushing with the contractions.”

Colette cried out in pain as she tried her very best to push like they were telling her to. The pain was blinding in its intensity. But it hurt. Gods, it hurt more than anything that she had ever experienced. It was like her body was about to rip itself in half.

"You’re doing so well," her mother cooed.

"Keep Pushing."

Another strangled scream escaped her. "Max," she sobbed. "I need Max. I need him. I can’t do this.”

Victoria stroked her hair. "It’s almost over, Colette. It’s almost over. Just a little bit more," Vic promised her. 

Colette wanted to give up, she wanted to give in. She wanted the pain to end. But more than anything else, she just wanted Max.

Another scream was torn from her, a ragged cry of pain as a particularly severe contraction tore through her. She was certain that she wasn’t going to survive this. The pain was too severe.

"Keep Pushing."

"Keep Pushing."

"Push, Push, Push"

She didn’t understand how they expected her to keep going. She could feel herself flagging, she was so exhausted.

The room was a blur around her, dark spots dancing at the corner of her vision. The sound of her own screams echoed in her ears, the pain almost overwhelming. She thought she was going to pass out.

She heard the door open.

A small part of the pain-hazed part of her mind registered the sound. She thought she was hallucinating. Surely that wasn’t the sound of the door opening. Surely she was just losing her mind under the excruciating strain.

“That took you too fucking long,” Victoria snapped. Colette would have smiled, if she hadn’t been currently in the middle of pushing. Max's familiar voice echoed in her ears, and for one sweet second, the pain all but vanished.

And then he was there.  Her heart jumped and a small sob escaped her. Max. It was really Max. He was there. He was right beside her.

Dry lips pressed against her sweat slick forehead. “Liefje.“

He was there. He was really there. 

"Max," she sobbed out. "You’re here. You’re really here."

"Of course I am," he said shakily. He pushed back her sweaty hair from her forehead. "You didn’t think I was going to let you do this without me, do you?"

She wanted to tell him that, in all honesty, she had thought exactly that. If he hadn’t shown up, she would have had to do this without him. But she was too exhausted, and in too much pain to form the words. All she could do was clutch at his hand, desperately clinging onto him like a lifeline.

Max immediately threaded his fingers through hers, holding her hand tightly. "I’m right here," he soothed. "I’m not going anywhere.” He was giving her something solid to hang onto. 

“Another push,” the doctor encouraged.

With Max holding her hand, Colette gave one last, desperate push.

She was certain that she was going to pass out. She didn’t understand how she was still conscious. The pain was mind-numbing in its intensity. "Once more,” the doctor said firmly. “I can see the head. Just one more push.”

Colette whimpered, her breath coming in short sharp sobs. "I can’t,” she cried in exhaustion. "I can’t."

"You can,” Max said fiercely. “You are the strongest goddamn person I know, and if anyone can do this, it’s you. Just one more push, come on, liefje."

His grip on her hand was so tight, it was almost painful, but that brief moment of pain was worth it. Feeling Max's presence beside her, holding onto her so desperately with his fingers threaded firmly through hers, it was the only thing that gave her the last little bit of strength that she needed.

With a long, ragged scream, she gave one last push, pouring everything she had into it.

She could hear Max beside her, talking to her soothingly, but the words were all blending together. Her senses were slowly fading. "Push, you can do it, you’re almost done." The words were coming at her from all sides now, swirling and echoing amongst the darkness of her hazy vision, and it was all she could do to grip Max’s hand, and listen to the sound of his voice.

And then it was over.

The searing pain suddenly stopped. 

For just a moment, everything was quiet. 

A cry cut through the sudden silence

The sound echoed around them, small and shrill and so very loud in the stillness of the room. A choked gasp of relief escaped Colette as she slumped back against the pillows, utterly exhausted.

"There you go," Max murmured, gently wiping back the hair from her forehead. "It’s over, it’s over now. You did so well, liefje. You’ve done it."

She wanted to speak, to say something to him in return, but her tongue was so heavy in her mouth it would hardly form words. Her mind was still a blur of exhaustion, relief and adrenaline. All she could muster was a small whimper as she felt his hand gently stroking her hair.

The sound of the infant’s cries rang out again, more strongly this time. “Here,” the doctor said, sounding a little amused. “Let’s get that little girl on maman’s chest.”

Through the haze, Colette felt an immense amount of exhausted relief, as the doctor carefully placed a small, wiggling bundle on her chest.

The baby was beautiful. Small and new and perfect, and Colette felt like the very breath had been knocked out of her. All the exhaustion and the pain was suddenly entirely worth it as she cradled the tiny baby in her arms.

"Hello, bébé," she breathed softly, the words coming out as a whisper. “I thought you were going to be a boy,” she choked 

A broad smile covered her face as she gently stroked the downy soft tufts of dark hair covering the baby’s head. The small, tiny, perfect little fingers wrapped around her own, and Colette’s heart felt so full it felt like it was going to burst.

"I was right," Max said, the words somewhat choked. His voice sounded almost strangled, and she didn’t need to look to know that there were tears running down his face.

Colette looked up at him then, taking in with a mixture of affection and amusement how utterly awestruck he looked. He was crying openly, tears running unashamedly down his cheeks.

“We did it,” she told Max.

“We did,” He said, his voice still choked with emotion. “She’s so beautiful.” Max sounded utterly wrecked.

Colette couldn’t help but share his feelings as she looked back down at the baby in her arms. The small infant had opened her eyes for a brief moment, revealing the most vividly blue eyes that Colette had ever seen. “She got your eyes.”

“And your hair,” Max said, reaching out a hesitant hand to touch the soft dark locks on the baby’s head.

The baby gave a little gurgle, waving her tiny hand as if to reach out for his fingers. “Hello, mooi meisje,” he said softly, his voice still sounding a little choked, as the baby tried to wrap her fingers around his own.

"She's absolutely perfect," Colette whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from the tiny, perfect bundle of joy in her arms.

"Just like her mother," Max said, his voice hoarse. He stroked his finger down the baby's soft cheek, the most gentle of touches.

***

In the end…he made it with minutes to spare.

He couldn’t describe the relief that he felt when he finally burst through the door, to find Colette in the midst of giving birth. He had been so terrified that he wouldn’t make it in time.

And now here he was, sitting beside her on the bed, their daughter in her arms, safe and sound and utterly, utterly perfect.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of them both. Colette was beautiful, despite looking utterly exhausted. Her face was pale and slick with sweat, but she had never look more lovely.

And their daughter… Their daughter was perfect. Tiny, and new, the sweetest thing that Max had ever seen. He gently ran his finger down her soft, plump cheek, marveling at the sheer fragility of her.

And he couldn't stop crying. This was his family. His.

They had hoped so desperately for so long, and now there was their little girl. And she had been worth it. Worth all the heartbreak.

His eyes stung and his throat was constricting, but he couldn't help it. He knew he must look a mess, tears running unashamedly down his face and throat choked up, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered. They were here, and safe, and together.

He looked down at the baby’s tiny, perfect face, her closed eyes, her nose. She had Colette’s hair, and his eyes, and Max thought that if it was possible to die of love, he was dangerously close to that moment right there.

He reached out a shaking hand to touch his daughter’s tiny fist, his own hand dwarfing hers. She opened her eyes again for a brief second, and he could have sworn that she smiled at him for just an instant.

The tears ran more freely down his face now at that thought. His daughter, his little girl, his precious perfect baby, smiled at him. It might have just been a trick of his own overjoyed emotional state, but right then, Max was convinced that it had been a real smile.

"She's perfect, liefje," he whispered, his words coming out a little choked. "She's so damn perfect.”

"Dad, you want to cut the cord?" the doctor asked him.

The question seemed to take a moment to register in his hazy emotional state, but when it did, Max’s breath caught in his chest for a moment. And then just as quickly, he nodded mutely.

In a daze, he reached for the small pair of scissors that the midwife handed over to him, cutting the umbilical cord under her careful supervision.

He was in a daze, even when they took his daughter from Colette to check her over and bath her. "Stay with her," Colette told him softly. "Go on."

Max nodded, unable to find the words to answer to her. He stood up on slightly shaky legs, watching as the midwife took his daughter over to the small bassinet and started to check her over.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of his baby, tiny and perfect and theirs. All the years of trying, all the hope and the heartbreaks, and now there was their little girl, safe and sound.

He got to watch her be bathed and then swaddled right into a soft pink swaddle that he knew he himself had bought because Colette kept insisting that it was a boy...and then he finally got to hold her in his arms and cry some more, because she was perfect.

He cradled her small, tiny form in his arms, his fingers trembling a little as he gently touched the soft downy skin of her cheek. Her weight was barely anything at all in his arms, and for a moment, terror gripped his heart. Was he holding her too hard? What if he hurt her?

"You aren't going to hurt her," Victoria said suddenly and he stared at his sister that sat down next to her. "You aren't. I promise you. Babies aren't as breakable as they look," she teased him softly. "Congrats, Maxie."

Max nodded, a little startled. He had honestly forgotten that his sister was even there, the arrival of his baby girl had taken up most of his attention.

"Thanks, Vic," he managed, his voice still choked. 

He looked down at the baby in his arms again. They had wrapped her tightly in the pink swaddle that he himself had insisted on months ago. He had been so sure that the baby was a girl. And he had been right.

He wouldn't have cared either way, but...he had been right.

"She's perfect," he whispered, his eyes burning.

Victoria smiled, watching him with a softness in her eyes that Max wasn't sure he had seen before. “You’re a father,” she said simply. “How does it feel?”

“Like my heart’s going to explode with pure happiness,” Max admitted, looking back down at his daughter in his arms. “Like I can’t breathe. Like I’m dreaming. I don’t…I don’t know how to describe it.”

"Welcome to the sleep deprivation community that is parenthood," Vic joked softly. "You are going to be the best father," she told him.

It made him choke up. That absolute certainty with which his little sister said that, a hand on his shoulder. "You are going to be the best father to her," Victoria promised him fiercely.

Fresh tears welled up in his eyes as he looked up at his sister. “I’ll do my best,” he managed to say, his voice a little choked. “I’ll do absolutely anything for her, for both of them. Anything in the world.”

They didn't often talk about their childhood...about all the things that had gone down...the long drawn out screaming matches they could remember before their parents had divorced and the separation that came afterwards...

They didn’t like to talk about it. It was one of those things that they usually just skirted around, because when they brought it up, old feelings and emotions came up with it. And the fights weren’t pleasant to remember...

But in that moment, Max felt a profound sense of relief. For the first time, he was glad those fights had happened, because if they hadn’t…he and Vic wouldn’t have the relationship they had now, and he wouldn’t have learned, from all of the pain and heartbreak of those fights, what not to do. He never wanted his daughter to grow up like that. He never wanted her to feel the pain of a broken family like they had.

And he knew that he would do absolutely everything in his power to prevent that from happening. He and Colette would keep their family tightly together and protect and love their little girl with everything that they had.

No matter what.

A fresh wave of tears welled up in his eyes at the thought of that. "I don't ever want her to grow up like we did, Vic," he managed to say, the words still a little choked. "I don't ever want her to feel like we did."

"She won't," Vic assured him, her voice still soft. "Because you're going to be a great father. She'll grow up feeling loved and wanted and safe. I know that, Maxie."

His throat felt as if it was slowly closing up. "Thanks, bink," he managed to say, his voice cracking. "It means a lot. I..." His eyes stung, and he swallowed hard. "I couldn't ever thank you enough for being here. For being with us."

For coming even when he handn’t asked…for somehow knowing without being told what they needed.

His sister just smiled at him, her blue eyes, so similar to his own, sparkling. "She’s my niece," she reminded him. "You're not getting rid of me. I'm going to spoil her rotten, you know that?"

"You are going to have fierce competition, Victoria" Pascale said softly.

He looked up to where Colette's mother was tucking her own daughter back into the bed, fussing over her. Colette looked better than she had before, freshly showered, still exhausted, but no longer...no longer looking like she was going to faint any minute.

Colette was already sitting up, even though she would be in pain for a while, a testament to her usual stubbornness.

"Maxie." Colette didn't need to say more than that, as he stood and crossed the room, safely putting their daughter back on her mother's chest.

He sat on the edge of her bed, careful not to jostle her too much. "Hey," he said softly, wrapping an arm gently around her shoulders. "How are you feeling, liefje?"

"I'm okay," she said softly, resting her head weakly against him. "Sore. Tired. Happy. Went through 6 hours of labour, only to give birth to your and Charles' clone," she said drily, making her mother laugh.

Max smiled faintly, resting his head against hers. “Charles?” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"She does look awfully similiar," Pascale agreed.

Max gave a small laugh, glancing back down at the baby. He supposed there was a resemblance, if one knew what to look for. “She’s not a clone,” he countered, a note of mock offense in his voice. “She’s a perfect mix of us.”

"With what I am pretty certain is Charles' nose," Colette said drily.

Max laughed faintly, reaching out to gently touch the baby’s tiny nose with his finger. It narrowed just so at the tip… “Maybe,” he conceded thoughtfully. 

His daughter stirred faintly at the contact, a small noise coming from her mouth that sounded a bit like a grumble. Max smiled at the sound. 

“And I’m pretty sure she’s just as stubborn as her mother,” he teased Colette.

She reached up to lightly smack his hand, but her smile was fond. “Like you aren’t just as stubborn,” she retorted.

Their daughter took that moment to complain loudly for once and Colette shifted her slightly, unbuttoning her pyjama top.  At least one thing went down with absolutely no fuss whatsoever. A few minutes later, their daughter had greedily nursed, burped and was back to slumbering quietly. 

"Are the three musketeers still outside?" Colette asked.

“They are,” Max confirmed, brushing a strand of hair back from Colette’s face. He had all but forgotten about Colette’s brothers.

"Get them," Colette said softly.

Max smiled. "All of them?" he teased. He knew that was exactly what she had meant."All of them," she nodded.

[staryuee]

are you able to make some head canons of scaramouche, kazuha, xiao, (BASICALLY ANEMO BOYS), neuvi, kinich on how they react to reader being nonchalant like lwk i think itd be funny

NONCHALANT S/O

꒰warnings꒱ N/A

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . xiao, kazuha, scaramouche, neuvillette, kinich

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . happy new year ♡ still on hiatus but i didn’t want to leave you guys completely high and dry d(^_^o) + also kinich is most definitely out of character just bc i refuse to play the new update so i know nothing about him

XIAO

ʚ it doesn’t bother him, if anything he likes the fact you’re able to brush things off easily (makes it easier for him to stop crouching on nearby trees to assure you’re safe, but lord do you sometimes hurt his ego)

ʚ xiao isn’t confident in romantic gestures, even something as small as a compliment or pinky holding has him wanting to disappear and recover…so when you so easily act indifferent to it while he’s practically drunk on flush straight up makes him die a little

ʚ aside from the slight jabs to his pride, you aren’t uncaring and dumb enough to let his love go unnoticed (thankfully) so he can fully appreciate that you protect your peace

ʚ haunted by memories of war, death and the stench of metal, it’s nice to find some solace in the cool air you exude

ʚ from the outer perspective, two people who have nonchalant energy wouldn’t seem to work too well (but lord do people drool when you two are duoed for a fight), but you and xiao just click!

ʚ he’s quiet, protective but sweet and ready to take the first step to love you, while you’re chilled, confident and allow him to take comfort in someone who’s stable (and sometimes snarky lol)

KAZUHA

ʚ he takes your nonchalant energy as you being ditzy or levelheaded if anything - in other words - it’s really endearing!

ʚ you sort of match his personality to the T, except he’s just the slightest bit more reciprocal with other people’s energy meanwhile you just stand back with your hands either tucked in your pockets or fiddling with the edge of his scarf

ʚ he actually kinda just enjoys teasing you if anything to see if anything can make you crack, most attempts end in failure but it is a rather cute bonding exercise to whoosh you with anemo energy out of the blue to then help you reorganise your hair and straighten your clothes

ʚ he does worry for you on the occasion when you seem to show a lack of interest in him, he’s a pure romantic at heart! he thrives off the attention from his beloved partner! but once in a while you do show him just how much you love him

ʚ did he immediately brighten when you once placed your head on his lap really quietly when he was humming a melody to you? yes, and he has no shame about that

SCARAMOUCHE

ʚ oh you PISS him off

ʚ if ignorance and arrogance were ever personified it would be you and him respectfully

ʚ obviously you both love each other on deeper levels than just: “even though i’m above you i’ll still let you hold my hand, — “okay.” - but your relationship is just…humorous at best from an outsider’s view

ʚ the akademiya’s student body is currently conflicted between the idea that your relationship is either ideal or highly toxic

ʚ on one hand, it’s really adorable to see the mysterious, snarky student of vahumana that rarely ever comes to class be so oddly…chatty in your presence, as you so lovingly listened to every word (if the people close enough to actually hear can be bothered to ignore the fact he’s badmouthing the entire school while you shrugged at every word)

ʚ aside from the yapper x listener duo, he’d also…a little more physically affectionate? he rests his head on your lap quite frequently because you say nothing and therefore don’t bother teasing him

ʚ that’s also the main thing he hates: how nonchalant you are about everything makes his indifference seem futile and oddly more vulnerable. you don’t care about anything, and it’s incredibly infuriating! the first time he said “i love you” you replied with “huh?” and that was the first time he’s ever felt so scornful

ʚ he loves you most days, so he will deal with your frustrating silence - it’s nice to see him become the person he wanted to be with someone who rarely intervenes

NEUVILLETTE

ʚ he’s worried, intrigued and a little jealous all at once.

ʚ worried because he fears that your indifference is a direct consequence of his own inadequacy. are you perhaps not satisfied?? do you not like it when he cups the side of your face when he kisses you? or do you hate the purring noises he makes when you curl your hands in his hair? …it’s raining in fontaine again

ʚ he’s intrigued mostly because you don’t seem to care or even be fazed by the fact you’re not only dating a dragon - but a primordial, godly being that precedes the creation of the modern teyvat. he didn’t think the information would be useful to you in the first place, but when you asked so nicely about the two blue steaks in his hair, he felt obliged to tell you - and yet you replied with “oh, cool.”

ʚ a little jealous just because this attitude is rather perfect in court. you can’t show bias and any emotion whether for defence or prosecution can skew your perspective on a trial - it’s difficult. he’s grown to love the little beings that run around fontaine carelessly, passing judgement has become something so much more colourful than black and white. but with you? it’s like you either have no opinion, or just to not engage - slightly admirable, if a little scary

ʚ at the end of the day, it doesn’t worry him too badly. nonchalance doesn’t necessarily mean emotionally unavailable - and believe me he spends enough time next to you to love the little quirks and habits you do when no one is looking at that façade of yours

KINICH

ʚ you 🤝 kinich - two peas in a pod

ʚ you don’t give a shit about anything? neither does he! do you wanna kiss?

ʚ ajaw lowkey hates you both (said with affection) and does NOT hesitate to let his opinion be known, though kinich is of course quick to shut him down

ʚ he kind of enjoys peering his head at you during conversations to see what you’re like - if your face scrunches when people say something weird, if your brows pitifully furrow at the mention of loss, or even if you smile at laughter — and he sees quite literally nothing, which was honestly like looking in a mirror

ʚ no one actually knows how two people with nearly the exact same level of charisma (none) got together, but you two are happy with each other, so really - who else needs to comprehend your relationship?

ʚ you have a really similar approach to life: do what you must to get what you want. but to him that means dangerous commissions that no one would probably want, and to you that means lounge around graffitiing a wall with some symbols you thought of on the spot

ʚ it’s genuinely infuriating to have a conversation with either of you though when the person speaking isn’t looking for particular help (or is speaking too slowly for either of your likings), you either brush the person off and walk away, or kinich talks back rather abruptly

ʚ mualani made it a non negotiable rule to have someone, hopefully the traveler, around either one of you like some sort of support dog to ensure you guys actually socialise and don’t sit there like owls waiting to bite

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

[igotanidea]

World's worst wingman: Jason Todd x reader (ft. Dick Grayson)

story borrowed from @gay-dorito-dust, thank you :)

Summary: Dick being Jason's wingman.

***

„Come on, just go do it!”

„No.”

„Why not?”

„Because.”

„Why are you being stubborn? I saw you eyeing her whole night! Seriously, if you keep bringing that face expression on, you will turn into an anime character and-“

Jason groaned and run fingers through his already messed up hair.

For the record – he had no idea that the object of his interest in the form of Y/N would be at this particular club tonight.

Well – maybe a faint idea. Just a vague concept of her whereabouts.

It wasn’t like he stalked her a little, getting to know her favorite places to hang out, her work and her home and the way she was using to commute to ensure its safety.

Definitely not.

But even if he did – there was no regrets in his actions with regards to that.

What he did regret though – was bringing Dick with him to act like some sort of wingman. Stupid. Idiotic. Completely reckless behavior. HE should have known better than that.

Instead of having a chance to talk to her, he was stuck by the table, trying to melt into the plush backrest of the couch behind his back, that happened to be the same color his face was turning into.

Forced to listen to his brother constant babbling how he can’t be such a coward and shy and antisocial and that she seemed to be a nice girl and why won’t Jason just get his ass up and –

“Shut up.” Jason muttered, edging the thin line between behaving and getting a temper tantrum.

“Ohhhh! Is my little Jaybrid getting flustered?” Dick teased, grinning like a madman, deriving almost sadistic pleasure from tormenting his brother.

“I’m getting so many regrets about telling you shit about her.”

“Oh, come on, don’t say it! That’s so not fair! I’m only here to help you, cause with the way you’re acting now I don’t see much chance to succeed in-”

“I’m going to get a drink!” Jason stood up from the table so abruptly that only by miracle it didn’t trip over.

“Oh yeah! That’s the spirit! And while you’re at it, can you bring me one more pina colada?”

It was all just a big fat joke to Dick.

***

“Hey, can I have a beer and a pina colada?” damn the second part of his sentence barely left his throat.

“that;s an unusual mix, istn;t it?” she chuckled grabbing a glass and starting to prepare the drink with learned precision.

“Yeah, it’s not for me – “ Jason stuttered, despite himself “It’s for-“

“Your date?”

“huh?”

“That guy over there?” Y/N pointed towards the Dick, waving at her crazily across the club

“WHAT? He’s not my date! He- he’s my –“ it took a lot of effort from Jason to not address Dick as his prey, but somehow, gulping heavily and clenching fists he managed to calm down. Ish. “-brother. He’s my effing brother.”

“Oh, such a  relief!”

“Relief? Why?”

“Cause it means he’s not gay, huh?”

“Oh…”

Of course she was asking about Dick. How could a girl like her ever pay attention to a guy like Jason?

“Relax, I’m kidding. It’s only because of the drink. I mean – what kind of a man orders pina colada unless he’s playing on the other side of the field or has a particularly nasty sense of humor, right?”

“Are you always this observant?”

“You know, some people think I’m just  a bartender, but the truth? I’m also a watcher and a listener. You wouldn’t believe the amount of drunk girls crying their broken heart out on this particular counter.”

“Hah!” he chuckled. For some crazy reason her attitude was making him feel at ease. Like he could actually maybe stand a chance with her?

“So, here’s your pina colada and your beer. Enjoy.”

The second she handed him the beverages he knew the moment was over. He was a customer at the bar and she was working here. They were not friends and definitely not more.

“Yeah, um – thanks …” he muttered, retrieving back into himself, grabbing the mugg and a tall glass, heading back to Dick with sense of defeat inside him.

***

“Are you crazy?!”

“Stop yelling!”

“But are you crazy?!” with the way Dick was tugging at Jason’s shirt it was truly a miracle that the younger brother did not end up drenched in and reeking of beer. “You had a chance! It was the perfect opportunity and you’re back here?! Please tell me you at least asked her out!”

“I –“

“Holy shit, Jason, you totally blew it.” Dick rubbed his forehead “Tell me you told her, you liked her!”

“Well-“

“Ok, fine, fine. Let’s lower the bar and the expectations there then. Tell me you told her she’s pretty.”

“I’m not telling the cliché that any drunk man would!”

“You’re hopeless. You are totally hopeless. My god, did I teach you nothing during all those years?!”

“Shut up, Dick!”

Too bad it was too late and Dick was already on a highway to making a scene and the biggest commotion this little suburban club has ever seen.

“Dick!” Jason hissed, feeling all eyes on them. All eyes except Y/N’s who was apparently ending her shift, cleaning some of the stuff from the counter and filling in her colleague.

“Quick! Fast!” Dick started pushing Jason towards her direction.

Mistake.

A little tip: if you ever try to push a 6 ft and 200 pounds man in any direction at all, make sure to make sure he expects it.

Otherwise, the mass of muscles may just subdue to the undeniable power of physics. Especially the gravity and the rules of dynamics. You know, the whole a body set in motion moves in a uniform motion and all shebang.

In Jason’s case it resulted in him losing the balance, falling backwards and stumbling upon unexpecting Y/N, crashing into her as they both ended on the floor with a very disturbing crack coming from somewhere.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit! Y/N? Are you okay? I am so sorry, I am so terribly sorry, how many fingers do you see-“

 “Ouch….” She groaned, reaching for the hand he was reaching towards her, letting him help her up. “Five?”

“Three. Close enough.”

“So you’re a sloth now?”

“huh?”

“Well, I said five fingers, you said three. Sloths have three fingers and – mh. Dry joke, sorry.”

“You must have hit your head pretty bad, huh?” he could swear to god, he had no idea where that joke came from, just slipped his mouth, but to his relief – she laughed. Not in a mean way, not at all. It was a genuine, happy laugh. He made her laugh.

“Yeah, maybe. I swear I am usually in a better shape.”

“I’d love to see that.” He muttered, and in his head it was just a thought never spoken aloud, but when she tilted her head and gave him a funny look, Jason realized he actually did just that. Spoke up. Bared himself to rejection, teasing, hurt, pain, depression –

“Ok.”

“Ok?” his eyes grew wider.

“Yes. Ok. I can give you a sample. And also you owe me.”

“Um, yeah, yeah, ok, so – “ he scratched his head awkwardly.

“I like coffee. And I have a day off tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay then so – “ say something you idiot! Say something! “there’s this little café at the 23rd and-“

“See you at 8.” She smiled, grabbed her coat and with a wave of her hand disappeared leaving him stunned.

He had a date. Ish. A meeting. A meeting with a girl he liked.

He could jump up from the sheer joy of this unexpected turn out of events, if it wasn;t for the one little fact ….

“RICHARD GRAYSON!!!”

The yelling could wake up the dead and sensing the incoming sequence of events, Dick quickly started moving through the crowd towards the exit.

“I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!”

It seemed that after Red Hood was done with his job, Nightwing would be excluded from patrolling that night.

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 ♡⃕ before falling in love : percy jackson

▰▰▰ pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

Percy finds a list y/n made in order to fall in love, he's determined to be the one to complete it.

warnings: briefly hinted cabin 7 reader

author: this is inspired by the book mi conquista tiene una lista by Inma Rubiales. Recommended if you like cheesy romcoms (as i do) and can read in spanish !!

Percy didn’t mean to find it, really. He didn’t mean to pry into her things; it felt like an invasion of privacy. But she was the one that had sent him to look for a paintbrush while she was painting, and he wasn't at fault if said paintbrush was beside a piece of paper that called for his attention. 

'things someone has to do before I fall in love'

At first, he wants to go and tease her about it, but as he starts reading, he realizes this is his opportunity. 

He had been in love with her for so long he couldn't even pinpoint the exact moment. He has tried to get her to notice, but either she is too oblivious or she acts like it. 

But this list- this list is exactly what Percy needed. He can't tell her, of course, but he is sure that he can check off all the boxes in her list. Then, that's going to show her that he is at least worth a date. 

"Percy, did you find my paintbrush?" she calls from out of the cabin, he quickly pockets the piece of paper on his jeans and takes the brush to go with her. 

it is no big deal, he's just going to take the list with him to make sure he can follow it. She won't realize.  

1. sings with me (even if they can't sing well)  

Percy loves watching her in her element, how she gets absorbed once she's in front of the easel, the way her brush runs through the white canvas, how her brows furrow together when she makes a mistake that surely no one but her is able to notice. 

She sings when she's distracted, and percy loves it. Her voice is just perfect. And somehow, she always seems to know every song playing on the radio. 

And he always finds an excuse to just sit there and watch her as she paints. It's a wonder how she hasn't realized how utterly in love he is, because every time he looks at her with such love in his eyes that by this point, everyone in camp knows about it. 

Sometimes he helps her, mostly when she can't seem to find the paintbrush or pallete she needs, which is why he even found the list to begin with and- talking about the list! Percy remembers exactly what the first point was. 

Sing with her. Percy doesn’t like singing, he's sure that didn’t come with the list of talents provided by Poseidon. He thinks his voice is terrible and even the idea of singing an disturbing the beautiful sound of her voice was just wrong. 

So he starts small, humming along the music. He recognizes this one. That's a first. Even y/n seems surprised as she pauses for a moment, a small smile tugs at her lips before she goes back to painting, but Percy swears he sees the spark of amusement in her expression. 

"You know this one?" she asks, her tone light and teasing. "Come on, sing with me" 

"I’m not a singer" he mutters, immediately stopping his humming. "In fact, i'm terrible at singing." 

"Who said you had to be a good singer? It’s not an audition,” she teases, picking up a clean paintbrush and holding it out to him like a microphone. "here." 

Before he can even think about protesting, the chorus of the song kicks in, and she starts singing, her voice clear and cheerful. Percy groans, but he picks up the paintbrush as he starts humming again. 

She grins widely. "See? it's not that hard" 

"I’m still not singing, no way" he insists, though his voice is softer now, the edges of his reluctance smoothing out just by the sight of her smile. 

“Oh, you will,” she says confidently, twirling the paintbrush and pointing it at him like a challenge. "Come on, It’s a duet. You can’t say no." 

And he really can't, not because he cares about any duet whatsoever but just because he can't ever say no to her. 

Before Percy knows it, the words spill out of him, hesitant at first, but then stronger as he loosens up. He's Slightly off key, but she doesn’t seem to care. She cheers him on, laughing as he stumbles over the lyrics. 

"You know, you're actually not that bad." she teases as the song reaches its end.  

"You're ridiculous." he says between chuckles, handing the paintbrush back. 

"And you’re fun sometimes." she replies, beaming up at him. 

He gasps playfully. "Excuse you? sometimes?" 

When she burst out laughing, Percy smiles at her. He wasn't expecting checking off the first item on the list would be this easy. Or this fun. 

2. dances in the rain with me. 

The second item comes just as naturally as the first one. Percy doesn’t have to force anything, it just so happens that a few days later, it started raining just when they were walking back from sword training. 

Most campers around them take their things and run for cover. Percy's just about to do the same, knowing the rain is probably Zeus' doing and not wanting to be anywhere near it, when his eyes fall on her and stops right on his track. 

Far from being agitated by the sudden downpour like everyone else, she tilts her face up, laughing as the rain fall all over her. She looks so carefree, so beautiful, that Percy can hardly be blamed for allowing himself to be pulled into her orbit once again. 

Without hesitation, he steps forward, takes her hand, pulls her closer and spins her around. She is confused at first, but then she laughs, her face full of joy. 

Percy is not a good dancer in the slightest, but he tries just for her. He lets himself relax under the pouring rain, twirling her again and again, his hands holding her waist as she throws her head back, laughing like its the best thing in the world.  

He knows there are people around them, probably watching, but he can’t bring himself to care. Her smile, her laugh, make everything else fade into the background. It's like they are in one of those cheesy romantic movies that she has always seem to enjoy so much.  

When the moment slows, Percy reaches out and gently brushes wet strands of hair off her face. She leans into his touch, smiling softly, and for a second, he’s sure his heart skips a beat. 

"I didn’t know you were such a good dancer." she comments, her voice filled with amusement as she tries to catch her breath, raindrops running down her cheeks. 

I could be anything for you he thinks, but instead, he smiles playfully. "maybe i'm just full of surprises." 

3. creates something just for me 

bonus: 4. knows my favorite flower 

Percy realizes soon enough that not everything on the list is going to be as easy as simply going with the flow. He is good at a lot of things, but crafting isn't one of them, so going through the process of creating something was just- difficult to say the least. 

Still, he doesn’t want to half-ass this one, if she wants him to create something for her, then it'll have to be special. 

That's where Leo comes in, Percy has to beg the boy for his help. But once he ends up agreeing, it's all set to go. 

"metal flowers?" Leo repeats, leaning against the workbench in bunker nine. "Really, dude? you're whipped." 

Percy shrugs, trying to act casual. "She really likes flowers. And uh- she loves peonies." 

How does Percy knows she loves peonies? even he's surprised, he doesn't remember her telling him. But he simply knows. And he's sure of it, too.  

"And couldn't you simply buy her some flowers?" Leo asks, but Percy can already see the gears turning in his head. 

"She deserves something unique and special, doesn’t she?" He replies, and that seems to be enough for Leo. 

"Alright, let's get to work then." 

The two of them spend hours working together. Leo shows Percy how to mold and bend the metal into petal shapes. It's easier said than done, but after a few tries, Percy's able to do it by himself while Leo focuses on welding them together, because he doesn’t trust Percy won't end up burning down the bunker. 

When they're finally done, they have a steel peony. It isn't perfect, but Percy's proud of it. It feels special, and he can't wait to give it to her, he barely manages to thank Leo before he's rushing out of the bunker. 

He's able to find y/n on the stables, she has her hair in a ponytail, a few strands falling messily over her face. She's focused on grooming a pegasus, so she doesn’t notice Percy until he taps her shoulder. 

She's startled at first, but once she sees Percy, she visibly relaxes. "Oh hi Perce, do you need something?" 

Percy was excited, but now he's clearly nervous as he stutters through his words. "I- um- I made something for you." 

That gets her attention, she looks at him surprised as she sets the comb down. "You got me something? what do you-" 

Her words trail off when Percy pulls his creation from behind his back. She seems surprised, looking in between the flower he's holding and his face, as though she can't surely trust her eyes. 

"you like peonies, don't you?" he asks hesitantly, even though he had been one hundred percent sure of his choice a few hours ago. 

She opens and closes her mouth, words dying before they can escape her lips as she reaches and takes the steel peony from Percy's hand. 

It takes her just a moment to realize that Percy is still looking at her with eyes full of doubt, and then her lips finally curl up into a beaming smile. "Like them? Percy i adore peonies." she looks back at the flower in her hand, and she almost feels like crying. "It's so beautiful, how did you make it? how did you know I like peonies?" 

"I'm sure you've mentioned it before" he shrugs, trying to hide how nervous he is. "but i'm glad you liked it." 

"I love it." she reassures him, her smile wide. "thank you, Perce." 

And when she leans and kisses his cheek, he knows the effort was worth it. He would do anything just to make her happy. 

5. listens to me 

bonus: 6. shares his opinions with me 

Some of these were the easiest because, well- Percy already did them. It was the minimum he could do, really. Listening to her came as a second nature. 

He could be in a room full of people, all of them talking at once. but the moment y/n's voice filled his ears, he would be the first one listening. 

Right now, he's in the middle of a shouting match with Clarisse. Cabin meetings always go just like this, they waste the first hour without accomplishing anything, the other counselors are used to this by now.  

"I'm just saying, we shouldn't show any weakness! we should focus on our defense." Clarisse slams her palms against the ping pong table, her voice rising. "we're still vulnerable and we shouldn't rely on a stupid dragon for everything!" 

"And i'm just saying." Percy fires back, already losing what little patience he has. "We need to focus on training new campers first, we-" 

Clarisse cuts him short, it's not the first time she has done it. "what better training than patrolling the borders?" 

"We won't send our new campers to fight monsters without any previous training!" His voice rises, everyone else stares like they're watching a tennis match. "We won't send them to die, have you gone mad?" 

Before Clarisse can reply, surely to fire back with some offense on her part, y/n's voice cuts through the noise. 

"Okay, let's calm down." Percy's head whips towards her the moment she talks, the heat of the argument forgotten the moment his eyes find hers. "you both have a point." 

"but-" Clarisse starts again, but Percy's faster. 

"let her talk" he interrupts before they can get into another argument.  

y/n falters for a moment. She isn’t even supposed to be at this meeting, she’s only covering for Will, who’s stuck at the infirmary with some campers who got into a fight. She feels out of place and is ready to choke on her words. But when her gaze meets Percy’s, he nods at her and offers a small, reassuring smile. It’s all she needs to find the courage to continue. 

She takes a deep breath and then keeps going. "Defense is important, but we do need more trained campers. Maybe we could compromise? Split the efforts? Half the camp focuses on guarding the borders, while the other half works on training?" 

There's a murmur of agreement amongst everyone else at the table, even Clarisse seems to deflate as she acknowledges the logic in her suggestion. But her eyes are still focused on Percy, she might not say it out loud but she values his opinion. 

"Actually" he says after a beat, his voice softer now. "that’s not a bad idea. If we rotate shifts, we could cover both." 

Clarisse rolls her eyes at Percy, but she finally concedes. “Fine. That works.” 

y/n allows herself a small, satisfied smile. Percy catches it, and he can’t help the grin that spreads across his own face. 

He knows this isn't the first time she was able to calm him down or change his perspective on something, it probably won't be the last either. He'd simply listen to her anytime. 

7. Shares his interests with me 

It takes Percy a lot of convincing to get her to even step into the water. She’s suspicious of his plan and stalls for ages before finally caving to his begging and jumping in. 

It’s worth it, though, because Percy gets to hold her close under the guise of teaching her how to swim. 

"Okay don't panic." He says gently as he guides her into the water. "just lay on your back and try floating, i've got you." 

She gives him a skeptical look, but he smiles and hesitantly places his hands on her waist, gently guiding her to lie back. His touch is steady, reassuring, and slowly, she begins to relax. 

"There you go, see? it wasn't that hard." Percy says softly, not wanting to disrupt the peace of the moment. 

"Well, i'm not drowning, so that's a win" she jokes, earning a chuckle from Percy. 

As the time goes on, Percy shows her how to kick her legs, how to paddle with her arms, and she was able to float by herself in no time, clumsily treading through water while she laughed.  

"You're a natural." he says, though he's already missing holding her close. 

She splashes him, when he laughs, she has to ignore the way her heart flutters in her chest. "Maybe I just have a great teacher." 

By the time the sun started to set in the sky, they had spent hours swimming around, splashing each other and laughing. Being able to see her smile while she floats close to him, Percy feels his chest tighten, a warm spreading through him. 

"I-" love you. Percy is able to catch himself before the words can slip out of his mouth. "thank you for coming with me." 

Her eyes sparkle like they're holding a million stars in them. "Thank you for teaching me how to swim." 

Percy's in love, and he knows he won't be able to keep it to himself for much longer. 

8. stargazes with me

The moon is high in the sky by the time they climb out of the water, the gentle sounds of waves lapping against the shore filling their ears. The air is cooler now, and y/n shivers as droplets of water trickle down her skin. 

Percy notices immediately, and he grabs a towel, wrapping it around her shoulders as they sit down on the pier. "Here." 

"Thank you." She smiles at him warmly. 

For a moment, they sit in silence, their feet dangling over the edge of the pier, toes grazing the water. The sky above them is impossibly clear, stars scattered across the sky. The moonlight casts a soft glow on Percy's face, and she can't help but stare at him just a little longer than she'd like to admit. 

She quickly looks away when he turns to glance at her, busying herself with admiring the sky instead. "it's beautiful out here." 

"Yeah." he replies, his eyes fixated on her. "it is." 

She doesn’t notice at first, too distracted by the way the constellations seem to shine just for them. But when she turns her head to make a comment, she catches him looking at her instead of the sky. 

Her heart skips a beat, but she tries to ignore her reaction behind a small laugh. "Do you know the constellations?" 

"Not really." he admits, shrugging. "I mean, I know of a few, but I always end up mixing them up." 

She smiles softly, pointing at a small cluster of stars. "That one's Orion's belt." 

Percy squints at the sky, following her finger. "Oh right, I see it now." 

Just like that, they fall into an easy rhythm of pointing out constellations, or at least trying to. When they can’t find one, they make up their own, laughing as they assign ridiculous names to each star. 

Eventually, the laughter fades away and they're left with the sound of waves crashing to fill the silence. She hums happily, resting her head on Percy's shoulder. 

"Thank you for today." she murmurs softly. 

Percy feels a warm on his chest he's become too familiar to. "Anytime." 

9. always tells me the truth 

it takes a week for y/n to notice the list is missing. And she's immediately panicking. She had written that list as a spur of the moment, something so personal she couldn't even think about sharing it with anyone.  

As her siblings leave for breakfast, she stays behind. She has already torn her side of the cabin apart, but there’s no sign of the pink paper she used to write the list. 

She's full on freaking out when someone knocks on her door. She's about to tell whoever is at the door to go away, but then she turns around and finds Percy standing by the doorway.

The effect is immediate. Just the sight of him makes her body relax, even if only slightly. Percy has always had that effect on her, it's like the world slows down for a moment, and the chaos in her mind quiets.

"Hey, I wanted to talk to you" he smiles at her, but once he notices her panicked expression, he raises his eyebrows hesitantly. "Are you okay?" 

She freezes, unsure whether to lie or spill everything. But as her eyes meet his, she crumbles under his gaze.

"No" she admits quietly. “I lost something really important.” 

Percy steps inside, closing the door behind him. “Maybe I can help you find it, what did you-” 

He stops himself mid-sentence just as the realization dawns on him. He knows what she lost. He has it on his pocket. 

She doesn’t even seem to notice his sudden change of attitude, she's too busy pacing around the room. "It's a piece of paper but it's personal. And very important. I can't lose it Percy." 

Percy has to stop her before she keeps talking. "i have it." 

She stops on her tracks, looking up at him with wide, worried eyes. "What?"

Percy takes a deep breath, his fingers trembling as he pulls the pink paper from his pocket. It's Slightly crumpled now, but unmistakable. "I have your list."

y/n's white as a ghost as she silently looks at him, so he keeps talking. "I swear I wasn't trying to snoop or anything. It was just there when I came to find the paintbrush you asked for and I-" 

"Did you read it?" she asks, her voice barely a shaky whisper. 

Percy nods, guilt flashing across his face. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have, but… I've been working through it." 

Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Her face flushes with a mix of disappointment and embarrassment, and she snatches the paper from his hand, clutching it tightly. 

"Percy you don't understand." she shakes her head, tears gathering on her eyes. "When I wrote this list, I didn’t want anyone to see it, because I didn’t want whoever completed it, did it just because they had to." 

He understands where she's coming from, he really does. Which is why he doesn’t panic and simply takes a step towards her, carefully reaching to take her hand. "No you don't understand. y/n, I didn’t do those things because I had to do them, but because I wanted to. Everything on there- it’s stuff I’d already do for you anyway." 

Her breath catches in her throat, but she doesn’t take her hand away from him. 

"I already love listening to you, and I share my opinions with you because I want you to know the real me. I made that flower because you deserved something special, and I already knew your favorite flowers were peonies. I taught you to swim because I wanted to share that part of my world with you, and every time I spend time with you is because-" he closes his eyes for a moment, he knows he can't keep hiding his feelings." simply because I love you, I love seeing you smile and I love hearing your laugh. So of course, I'd do anything just to spend time around you." 

His words take away her breath, but she can only focus on three specific words. "You what?" 

"I love you." he replies, no hesitation. "And if this changes anything between us, I’ll understand. But I just can't keep pretending I don't love you." 

For a long moment, she stands frozen, clutching the list in her hand. Her heart races wildly, and her hands tremble. But as the truth of his words sinks in, a realization washes over her like a wave. 

She thinks back to every moment they’ve shared, how he's always the first person she looks for in a room. She thinks about how she's always looked for his comfort, how he always listened to her and made her feel safe, like she belongs. 

She thinks about writing that list. And how it always felt so specific, like no one could surely fulfill it. And it was always because she had one person in mind while writing it. him. 

It hits her all at once: she loves him too. She’s been in love with him for longer than she realized. 

"Percy" she mumbles, her voice soft and her eyes full with tears. "I love you too." 

That's everything he needs to hear. He doesn’t even need to ask for confirmation. He can see it in her eyes. He knows. 

Before she adds anything else, Percy leans in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tender kiss. It’s everything she imagined and more, and she knows in that moment that every word he said was true. 

She loves him. She’s sure of it now, just as sure as she is that he loves her.

When he pulls back, there’s a smile on his face that makes her heart flutter. He reaches up, lightly tapping the paper in her hand, his voice warm and teasing. "Looks like you can cross the last item off your list."

10. Kisses me

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter seven: Closer Than Before

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12

The rain hadn’t stopped since the afternoon, a constant thrum against the windows. The kind of weather that felt like the world was pressing in, making everything inside feel a little more closed off, a little more confined. You stood on the first level of the VIP room, eyes wandering over the cold, imposing space. It was beautiful in its own way, all sharp edges and dark marble, but it lacked… warmth.

You needed to change that.

The Frontman—still wearing his mask, as always—stood a few steps behind you, his figure tall and unreadable, like he was a part of the room itself. Silent. Unmoving.

“I’ve been thinking,” you started, turning to face him, your voice a little louder than you’d intended, breaking the silence. “About what I want to do with the VIP room. It’s… too cold. I think it needs something different.”

You looked at him, but he didn’t respond right away. Instead, his gaze scanned the space, lingering over the walls, the large, dark staircase, the bar area layered along the far wall. The way he looked at it made it clear that he wasn’t just seeing the design, but feeling it too, like he could sense the emptiness in the room.

“Like what?” His voice finally cut through the silence, low and steady.

You shrugged, trying to explain. “I was thinking of doing something like… Ancient Greece. Dark marble walls, dark green plants… a more organic vibe. I could make the models like Greek statues. You know, the ones with the sheer togas—more like they belong in the room, not just… standing there. It’d be darker, but it would feel more alive.”

The Frontman was quiet for a moment, processing your words. You couldn’t tell if he liked the idea or if he thought it was too much. His mask hid everything. His silence made it hard to read him.

“I think it could work,” he said finally, his voice distant but not dismissive. “The space is big enough for it.”

You felt yourself exhale, not realizing how much tension had been in your shoulders until it started to ease. You’d expected him to argue, or at least poke holes in your plan. But he was… actually considering it.

“I’ll need to see the full plan when you have it,” he added. “If you’re sure about it, I’ll get the contractors to start working on it.”

“Of course,” you said, your voice lighter now. “I’ll get something to you soon.”

You both stood there in silence for a while, looking around the room. It was still cold, but now, there was a shift. You’d actually said something, made a choice about this place. And he’d listened. He hadn’t rejected you outright. It felt… like progress, in a way.

Once the silence lingered too long, you followed him as he started to walk toward the staircase, down to the second level of the VIP room. You didn’t even think about it, just automatically stepping behind him. You both descended the stairs and made your way toward the couches, the massive TV on the wall. Everything in the room felt bigger, more imposing the longer you stayed there, but now there was a faint connection between you two that wasn’t there before.

The bar area was silent as always. You could hear the soft hum of the air conditioning, the sound of your heels on the polished floor. You broke the silence first.

“Do you ever get tired of this place?” you asked before you could stop yourself. “All of this… the Games? The power? The way everything just feels like it’s running on autopilot?”

You glanced at him quickly. You weren’t sure if he was going to answer or if you’d just overstepped, but you couldn’t help it. Something about the heaviness in the air between you both made you feel like he might actually understand.

“I don’t have the luxury of tiring,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet. There was no edge to his tone, no anger, just… resignation.

You wanted to push further, to ask him about the cost of all this—about the man behind the mask. But something stopped you. Instead, you nodded, accepting his words, even though they didn’t answer your question.

Neither of you spoke again as you made your way back to your shared quarters. The walk was slow, deliberate, like neither of you wanted to break the delicate silence. During the walk, you couldn’t help but think about how you’d been married to the Frontman for a little over a month, and you still didn’t know his name.

He knew yours, so what’s the problem?

The thought lingered in your mind as you reached the door to your quarters, and for a moment, you hesitated before reaching for the handle. The Frontman stopped beside you, his gaze on the door, but for a brief moment, you could feel his attention shift toward you. You weren’t sure if it was because of what you’d just discussed or if it was something else, but the atmosphere between you had changed—just a little.

You swung the door open and stepped inside, the Frontman following closely behind. You both moved further into the quarters, but he stepped past you, on his way to his office.

“Goodnight,” you said softly, the word feeling heavier than usual.

He didn’t respond right away. You were about to turn away when his voice stopped you.

“Goodnight.” He said, his tone softer than before. He seemed to hesitate, stopping in his place in the hallway.

He turned to face you once more, and there was a brief pause before he added, almost casually, “My name is In-ho.”

The words hung in the air between you like a revelation—something you hadn’t expected but that you’d somehow been waiting for. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t some grand confession. It was just… simple. Human. In-ho. It didn’t feel like the name of the Frontman, the man behind the mask. It felt like the name of someone who was finally letting go, just a little.

You blinked, surprised, your throat tight. “In-ho,” you repeated, almost as if testing it, letting it sit in your mouth. His name. Not the cold title you’d been using all this time, but the real one.

He nodded once, short and simple, and then opened the door. But before he stepped inside, he paused for a moment, glancing back at you. “I won’t be hard to find, if you need me,” he said, voice soft, quieter than before. Then, without another word, he disappeared into the room.

You stood there for a while, processing what had just happened. In-ho. You didn’t know what it meant yet, but somehow, it felt like it mattered. Maybe not everything would change overnight, but this moment—this small shift—it was something.

It was a crack in the wall, a small opening that let you see a little more of him than before. And that was a start.

———————

This is chapter seven!! I have a few more coming tonight! Lemme know what you think!!

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