#and if you refuse to be drawn properly...

[solanj]

Learn to draw Heinrix or die: the challenge ("Die" seems a much more likely outcome with the way it's going so far, tbh) This one was supposed to be a study of a Jeremy Irons shot, but for some mystical reason while Irons looks similar to Heinrix (in my eyes at least), whenever the picture started to look like Irons it stopped looking like Heinriix at all. So at this point there is not much similarities left to either of them, but, well, at least it started to resemble Heinrix at least a liiiiitle tiny bit

[neon-zoologist]

Mini zine!

Mainly an excuse to use this line from The Chapel by Madilyn Mei and some of the insect stickers my qpp gave me. Plus helps me practice drawing insects (they are incredibly hard, especially soft-bodied ones).

[fingertipsmp3]

Wow when did pinterest become overrun with AI

[the-modern-typewriter]

Love your writing! Can I request a hero that likes being controlled by the villain because they get relief from their anxiety/stressful life but they are denying it because they don’t want to admit to being overwhelmed?

"Oh god, you're back."

The villain smirked at that particular greeting and inclined their head in acknowledgement. "Long time no see, hero mine."

Anticipation had the hero's heart drumming double time. They shifted their weight, hold tightening on the battered strap of their rucksack. The street was empty, all curtains conspicuously drawn, but there was nothing actually blocking any exits. They could run. They weren't far from home. They might even make it.

"It's okay," the villain said, tucking their hands into their pockets. "You can try, I won't be offended. I know you prefer pretending that you don't like this. That you don't crave this."

"I don't."

"No?" The villain's tone was soft, but their eyes gleamed in the glow of the lampposts. Their gaze was somewhere between gently mocking and not so gently fond. "You're lucky you lie so pretty. It means I'll let you off with a warning. Just the one, because I've heard you've had a rough week."

The hero swallowed.

The week had been exhausting. Atlas would have buckled beneath the weight of the last week too. Anyone would. Wouldn't they? Maybe that was why, beneath the panic of seeing the villain again, there was a much more terrifying chasm of relief. Dizzy, desperate relief. The kind of longing that left a person brained by it. Dumb.

"You heard about that?" the hero asked, in a small voice, even if it was entirely not the point.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

The hero shuddered, to hear the villain say it so bluntly. Maybe if they hadn't, the hero could pretend - what? That somewhere along the way monstrosity and miracle had blurred together like wet watercolours?

"You could walk away," the hero said.

"I could," the villain agreed, placidly. They didn't move though.

"Would you if I asked you to?"

The villain's head tilted, considering the hero at that.

"Mm, I don't think so," they decided eventually. "Then you'd feel like you had to ask. It goes better when you don't have any choice in this matter, doesn't it?"

"You can't just - you can't say that."

"No?" the villain's lip curled up again. They closed the gap between them, casually confident. "You asked."

"Well, yes - but." The hero didn't have a good way to finish the sentence. Mainly because they should have been horrified. They were horrified! It was only..."You're not supposed to say it." The crack in their voice felt far too much like confession. "It's not right."

"Yeah. I'd say you should stop feeling so guilty about liking it so much, but honestly it's entirely too delicious watching you squirm."

The hero made a choked, incoherent sound in their throat. They took a step back, not remotely surprised when the villain's hand snaked eel-fast around their back.

"Ah, ah," the villain said. "You already had your chance to run. Go easy."

The hero felt the very moment that something switched in the villain's voice, their powers humming a siren song in the hero's bones. They felt their body turn to putty as they blinked at the villain, wide-eyed. Their hands settled comfortably on the villain's chest, not pushing back.

It wasn't...it wasn't exactly that their brain switched off, only that everything in them suddenly refused to fully recognise the danger. And there was danger, they knew that, but...

But for the first time since they'd last seen the villain, the knot in their chest loosened. They didn't feel one small straw or loud noise or well-meaning question away from bursting pitifully into tears.

"Good," the villain murmured. "Just like that. There you are. Deep breaths."

Up close, the villain took a moment to study them properly. The hero let them look. Minutes ago, they might have tried to hide, ashamed by the blatant dark circles under their eyes, by everything that the villain would see, but in that second...

The villain's lips thinned a fraction. "I've been away on business for too long, haven't I? Sorry about that."

"How was business?"

The villain didn't bother answering that question, more concerned with grazing their thumb along the swell of the hero's lip where they'd bitten it raw. Their eyes darkened further.

"You look annoyed," the hero said.

"You could have called me, you know."

"Why would I do that?"

"Why would you-" For a second, it seemed like the villain might say something. Then, they simply sighed, and shook their head, muttering something under their breath. They pivoted, so they were at the hero's side instead, snagging the hero's heavy bag onto their own shoulders.

"Walk." The command hummed through the villain's voice again. "I think we've both had enough of your idiot brain for today. You're done for the week."

Every time the villain let them go, it was harder to force themselves to leave.

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part four.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4.6k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), sex work, pet names, alcohol, mentions of drugs, jokes about death Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part three. / return to part one. | masterlist

Night comes around.

You do not call.

In fact, you don't call the Scout Services Hotline a single time that whole weekend.

As you scroll mindlessly through social media in your bed, fluttering between apps without retaining a single word or meme, your cell phone weighs heavily in your hand.

Don't call.

Just don't call.

It isn't like you're devoid of things to do.

Going out is an option.

Being around people may help your mood — but you don’t feel like unearthing from your snuggie poncho.

Putting on a movie can be a great distraction — but you know your attention span would barely last through the opening credits.

It was him.

Right there.

Right in front of you.

Levi from Scout Services, alive and in the flesh, holding your phone.

No amount of mental gymnastics can make you doubt otherwise. 

He has a voice like no other; one that haunts your day dreams and soothes your nightmares, one that brings this sudden urge to do better for yourself—

Ironically, to be independent and strong on your own.

Which, actually, really fucking sucks now that you’re stuck with the decision to totally disappear from the gym, too.

(Kind of thwarts the whole ‘new me’ chest-puffing you’d started Friday with.)

So you make a final decision:

You still have to go to the gym Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.

Even if you say nothing, keep to yourself, remain a shadow, you have to go.

(There’s a fragile line drawn in the sands of reality. You can toe the edge, but you refuse to. This is his livelihood. You’re not delusional to believe you’re a main character exception.)

Coincidentally, Levi goes every day, too. 

Your stomach flip-flops with the unsettling realization that your perch on a treadmill actually gives you a perfect vantage point to watch him as he sets his station up every morning.

Meticulously he sets towels down to place his shaker bottle and water thermos down, as if worried the ground hadn’t been cleaned overnight.

He even takes the disinfectant cloths and cleans every dumbbell he lines up neatly before starting his workout.

The dark-haired man truly is less-than-average in height, which isn’t a turn-off to you in the slightest, but his arms — his goddamn arms.

Levi wasn’t kidding when he told you that he could pick you up.

He could probably pick two of you up, one arm each.

They’re so toned, his forearms veiny from morning dehydration.

Training vigorously in his own world, not once does he notice that you’re the bumbling idiot that’s tripped on the treadmill (see: a few times) from dissociating.

Hell, he hasn’t a single fucking clue that you’re close enough to yell across the room to him.

Would he know?

That you’re Scarlet.

His, in some made-up world.

(Does your voice stand out in a sea of lonely people?)

The cleaning ritual extends to his cooldown, where he properly cleans each piece of equipment before nestling it back in its place.

Levi sits on his phone for a second, dropping down to a bench to scroll — text messages.

(Damn it, have you really resorted to minor stalking?)

As soon as he stands, though, you drop your chin to watch your sneakers rhythmically pass one another on the treadmill belt.

He passes like a ghost, evaporating into the men’s locker room without a word.

This is torture.

You miss him.

But you still refuse to call.

Can't — because in another world you may be his, but in this world, he is not yours.

.

.

— —

.

.

    Tuesday night rolls around and you decide you hate life.

Annie, Eren, Reiner, and Mikasa are already there by the time you walk into the downtown hotspot.

The boys as well as Mikasa are still in their suit attire from work, their ties loosened at their necks. Annie’s in a hoodie and jeans, clearly much more interested in having a comfortable evening.

If the emptied shot glasses are any indicator of the plans for this evening, then you steel yourself for one hell of a Wednesday.

You glide through the busy crowds of the bar towards the group.

Bodies upon bodies crowd this place — it’s never not a zoo at this hour, no matter the day. Saying excuse me would only waste breath. 

A live band croons on the far end of the smoky bar, forcing everyone to talk ten decibels higher just to hear the conversation.

(Can’t you turn around and go home while you’re ahead?)

In the sea of people, a pair of emerald green eyes over by a cluster of tables in the right-hand corner catch your movement. They widen, recognizing your face, and a lopsided grin of surprise follows.

“Holy shit, she left her cave!” Eren yells, holding up a cheap beer in salute to your arrival.

(Thanks Jeager, you little fuck.)

You don’t hear what she says, but you can see Mikasa’s lips part in tandem with a sharp elbow jab straight to his ribs.

Eren instantly falters his salute, souring in pain.

“I know. Don’t be so shocked,” you state to your colleagues, leaning up against the circular high-top table. “Am I the last to show?”

“Nah, you’re right on time. Armin and Jean’re on their way,” Reiner grunts, holding onto a comically small cosmopolitan in his rather large hand. “Sasha’s on babysitting duty with Nicco.”

You look around the bar for any other familiar faces.

“And Connie?”

“Passed out,” Mikasa supplies. “Took edibles after work.”

“There’s no chance in hell anyone’s waking him,” Eren snorts. “Fucker’s toast.”

Reiner sighs. “For what it’s worth, Jean tried.”

“No, Armin tried,” Annie corrects, finally piping up. She holds something on the rocks — brandy? Whiskey? You can’t tell. “Jean just laughed and kept trying to draw shit on his face.”

“You didn’t see the Snapchat he sent?” Eren asks after a gulp of his beer.

You shake your head, knowing damn well you’ve avoided using your phone for the last several days. 

Missed texts, abandoned tagged tweets, your streak in your mobile game ruined — anything so you wouldn’t be tempted to click that little number.

Damn it.

Enough wallowing.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” you state, disengaging with the table. “Anyone need anything?”

From your peripheral, you see a familiar mop of blonde hair walking towards your group. At his side is a much taller man sliding through the crowd, navigating the shorter one to the tiny table you’ve commandeered from the masses.

Armin and Jean.

Reiner and Annie shake their heads.

“Nope, I’m solid.”

“Good here.”

“Eren’s got the next round of shots,” Mikasa flatly states. “You’re fine.”

“Ha, hell yeah!” Eren exclaims, before he settles into a confused pause of silence. His head whips to Mikasa, blinking twice. “Wait, what?”

You don’t stick around for that aftermath.

Squeezing back into the lion’s den of people, you try not to get hit with any too-full beverages or waving hands.

You manage to weave and duck, eventually finding a small empty corner at the edge of the bar.

Success.

You rush to claim it before someone else can, your forearm on the wooden surface. 

Holding up two fingers to get the one of the three bartender’s attention, she nods once to acknowledge she sees you — she’ll get there eventually.

Two empty stools are available, so you scoot onto the one closest to the wall while waiting for your turn and drop your purse onto the other while you situate yourself. 

It’ll likely take a while if the busyness of the staff has anything to say about it.

An hour.

All you need to do is last one whole hour.

Chat a bit, mingle a little so everyone at work doesn’t think you’re a total goddamn recluse, then you can go—

“Is this seat taken?”

A question sounding to your left breaks your train of thought.

The seat.

The one next to you, where your purse lay.

Way to go, dumbass.

You answer on autopilot, not thinking twice about it.

“Oh — shit, yeah. I mean, no! No it’s not. I’m sorry.”

As your torso turns to grab your purse off of the deep red stool, your eyes drop to make sure nothing spills out of it.

“Hold on, let me just move—”

Your chin lifts to find yourself staring eye to eye with Levi.

Wait.

Levi?!

His cheekbones look even sharper under the warm hue of the bar lights overhead, lips parted like he was interrupted in asking a question.

The whites of his eyes grow more prominent with every passing second, making the blue-gray color of them stand out in stark contrast to the black curtain of fringe falling against his temples.

The realization that you spoke — that he’s seen your face before — seems to be hitting him like a goddamn freight train.

Your blood runs cold as your own eyes round.

“...my stuff.”

Weakly you finish your thought, wishing for nothing but death right now. 

Maybe a stranger, like a secret agent with wicked strength, will simply rush the bar and put you in a headlock and knock you out. 

Maybe your drink will be poisoned. 

You’re happy for anything so long as it’s swift.

Levi grunts in acknowledgement, slowly finding a spot on the empty stool beside yours.

Both of you swivel towards the bar, staring ahead.

Silence.

For what feels like hours, neither of you speak. The noise of the bar becomes overwhelming.

Somehow the surrounding voices feel amplified when you’ve lost your own. 

It’s trapped between a thousand apologies and half a dozen explanations that sound worse than the one before it.

You need to get up.

Excuse yourself out. 

Leave.

You won’t get your damn drink, but that’s fine so long as you’re not here.

“How’s your phone?”

Eventually Levi speaks, and you find yourself wishing he hadn’t. 

The effect of his voice is even worse in person — so buttery smooth, the gravel much deeper in his chest now that there isn’t a phone receiver to dilute it.

“Not… damaged,” you reply cautiously.

“Good.”

Another stretch of silence passes, and you forget about ordering drinks altogether.

Your eyes drop to view his folded hands, how the veins protrude even when resting.

His fingers are slender, strong, and hate yourself for yearning.

You have to apologize.

This is crossing a line.

You need to—

“So—”

“I’m canceling my subscription.”

You blurt a fraction later than Levi, proclaiming your innocence before he can ever condemn it.

When you meet his steely eyes, they squint with curiosity.

From the crown of your head to your chin, he assesses in a serpentine pattern before eventually finding your eyes once more.

“How come?” he asks, leaning further against the bar top.

“I— how come?”

You repeat his question in surprise.

Wildly gesturing towards the space between you with your hand, you snort.

“Uh, because that’s the right thing to do in this circumstance? Because seeing you in person is borderline unethical?”

He hums at that, not giving you much to work with.

“And for the record, I did not stalk you to this bar.”

“Didn’t think you did.”

“I’m actually here with friends—”

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

Levi interrupts, seemingly unbothered by your rambling. 

“At the gym. I can make an educated guess and say you knew it was me from the second I opened my trap, but you didn’t say anything.”

Why isn’t he freaking out?

Shouldn’t he be freaking out?

Just as you open your mouth to continue professing your innocence, the bartender walks over and points to you.

“What can I get you?”

You blanch, no longer remember how to order drinks. 

“I—”

“I got her tab,” Levi interrupts casually, tapping his index finger into the counter. “Two hard seltzers.”

Then he has the audacity to glance your way.

“Pineapple, right?”

Holy shit, he remembers your favorite flavor?

Is this a flex?

(It kind of feels like a flex; a way to say I know you, I was there.)

“...pineapple’s fine,” you murmur in return, hesitant.

The bartender doesn’t waste another second to rummage in the mini fridge on the other side of the bar for two slim cans.

For another agonizing thirty seconds, neither of you say a word.

He raises his chin to watch whatever sport’s game is playing overhead on the television.

You stare at your mirrored reflection in the bar backsplash.

This is real life.

The man you’ve spent hours talking to over the phone to, getting off to, is sitting right beside you, yet he isn’t trying to create distance.

If anything, he’s buying you a damn drink and asking you why.

Why didn’t you say something?

“I didn’t say anything at the gym because that would have been extremely inappropriate,” you finally argue under your breath, keeping the conversation strictly between you. “What would I have said? ‘Oh hey, guy I've paid to talk to on the phone every single night for the past week. Isn’t it crazy that I actually go to the same gym as you?’ That’s so creepy.” 

When he says nothing, still staring at you, you continue to bury yourself into a deeper grave.

“I mean, I thought you lived, like… a billion miles from me. Maybe from another planet.”

His brows pinch with amusement. 

“On Mars, or…?”

Oh.

He’s joking.

He’s actually joking about this.

You turn your chin, brow furrowed. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, and you have to force yourself to maintain eye contact.

“I wondered why you looked so scared of me on Friday. Thought maybe I smelled like shit from my workout.”

No, you want to say. Unfortunately it was the goddamn opposite.

“So you’re not…”

“Worried you’re a stalker trying to dox me because of my job?”

Levi blatantly finishes, and you wince.

Clearly he notices your embarrassment, because he sighs and relaxes his shoulders.

“I’m more pissed that you didn’t call all weekend, but then again, that’s the nature of the job.”

You both watch each other for a moment as the bartender returns, passing you both pineapple hard seltzers to nurse.

He pushes your can to your hand, nudging the icy-cold aluminum against your thumb, then picks up his own.

“The nature of the job?” you repeat, and he nods.

“People get bored. Run out of funds. Novelty wears off fast.” 

Levi shrugs, sipping his drink. 

“Just because you like talking to someone doesn’t mean they stick around. Wouldn’t blame 'em — shit gets expensive quick.”

“I just…”

You trail off, fighting to find the correct words to say.

“...I thought it wasn’t right to call again, knowing I knew what you looked like, so I didn’t.” 

Explaining yourself makes your tongue feel sluggish, like you were caught red-handed in a crime you didn’t know you’d committed until hindsight.

“I can leave you alone,” you decide to add, holding your drink tighter. “Like I said, I’m here with my friends and… after all, you were doing your job. A great job. You’re kind of the reason I’m even here in the first place.”

Levi’s brow knits, and your eyes widen.

“Not like that!”

“Pretty shit at asserting yourself even in person,” he murmurs like it’s a cheeky inside joke, and he sips once more. “So how am I the reason?”

He’s not angry.

Hell, he’s conversational.

Not the least bit worried about how you’ve both managed to get here.

Might as well be honest.

“Because I decided to stop being a little less scared of the world,” you confess softly. “It— That’s why I got to the gym so early on Friday. I wanted to start doing strength training, like how you talk about how much you love it. And… I thought, maybe, I’d spend more time with friends. Get out there more. Be more assertive — beyond right now, obviously.”

The dark-haired man’s expression smooths at that in a mixture of recognition and surprise.

The slide of his brow is beautiful, and your heart squeezes at the sight of an animated Levi in the flesh, just as you pictured.

“Do you have to go back to your friends right now?”

At first you don’t quite register his question, but then it causes butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

He looks left to right, as if trying to find your troop of buddies, before returning his attention back to you.

“You don’t… want me to leave?”

Levi shakes his head.

You feel bolted to your stool, unable to move even if you wanted to.

Simultaneously you sip your drinks, keeping eye contact.

It feels intimate.

Too intimate.

“So, then…” You start slowly. “What does this mean?”

“Well,” Levi begins, mulling it over in his head. “Means the whole provider-client relationship has basically gone to shit. You know my face, now I know yours.”

“Right.”

“Then again, that professionalism was already well into a shit pile way before Friday morning.”

You blink, not following. “Huh?”

“There’s nothing in the company policy about what to do when you stumble into your client at the damn local gym, but there sure as hell wasn’t anything about…”

Levi trails off, clenching his jaw in debate.

“...about crossing the line I practically leapt over. I’m good at my job because of my detachment, but this was the only time I bordered on unethical myself. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

Levi… was sorry?

The words blurt faster than you can stop yourself. “Why the hell are you sorry?”

His eyes widen with a budding uncertainty.

“I… just said I crossed the line?”

“When?”

“On the phone?”

“Okay, duh, but when?”

“Our last session.”

“So that was real.”

Levi actually got off to your voice.

If you weren’t in such shock about sitting here face-to-face with him at a local bar, then perhaps your ego would have, in fact, made a crash landing on Mars.

He considers his next words very carefully. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.”

Then he sips more before shaking his head.

“Look. It’s… a job a friend of mine got me. I’m not a real-life Casanova or any of that shit. Hell, most of my time was spent training punks to fight in a boxing ring, so I never had the energy for relationships or dating.”

You can't hide your surprise. “You were a fighter?”

He makes a noncommittal face.

“Loosely. Personal trainer, training in general — fell into it after I got out of the service.”

“Right, you were in the army,” you murmur, and the edge of his lips upticks at your recollection.

“A couple of months ago the gym I worked for went under, money got tight, so I thought I’d try it out. Guess everyone says it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, but bossing fighters around and fielding horny-ass callers ain't all that different."

Levi turns his chin just so to regard you under a wispy black fringe.

“I can usually predict what someone wants. The people that call this hotline shit, they’re in and out."

He takes a pause.

"You, though — the second I picked up your call, you threw me through a goddamn loop.”

You use your nail on your index finger to absently scratch the side of your thumb, attempting to process everything he’s telling you.

"First night we spoke, actually, I ended up at this very bar to contemplate why the fuck I wanted you to call back. Didn't want you blowing your money on it, obviously, it's overpriced and ridiculous, but — it clearly shook me up enough for me to take then ten-minute walk in the middle of the night in the first place."

Ten minutes.

That length of time strikes something in you.

“So, your… office building isn’t far?” you slowly ask.

Levi shakes his head. “No, no office. I work remotely. Kind of the reason why I took the gig in the first place. I wouldn’t do this shit if I had an audience in a damn two-by-four cube.”

You’re not sure what possesses you to confess it, but you point past your shoulder. 

“My apartment complex is actually six blocks down the street.”

Ten minutes away, is your implication.

His hand had raised to sip from his seltzer can, but it halts immediately.

His eyes narrow. 

“The complex on Junction Ave?”

“Yeah," you say.

“Right across from—”

“The Reiss deli.”

That narrowed gaze shoots wide. “You’re shitting me.”

“You say the word shit a lot.”

“Baby, I live there,” he blurts.

“Wait, what?”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to nearly pop out of your skull.

(You’re too shocked to even process what he called you.)

He huffs in a brief laugh, shaking his head.

“You gotta be fucking with me.”

“I’m not! Wait, you live in the same building as me?”

“You said Thomas was your goddamn mailman,” Levi states. “Do you know how many fucking Thomas the Mailmen there are in this world? I didn’t think we’d have the same one.”

Holy shit.

Oh, holy shit.

You sit up taller in your seat. “Wait, what floor?”

“Sixteenth.”

“I’m on the tenth!” you exclaim in your shock. “Holy shit, so you…”

Have been right above me this entire time.

Your phone buzzes, ruining your train of thought. 

Reflexively you look down to see the preview of Annie’s message over your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Did u die?

Right.

You’re here with friends.

“Friends wondering where you are?” Levi inquiries at the sight of your growing frown.

“Yeah, give me a sec.”

You swipe the screen north and type a reply.

[ME]: Talking to someone. Be over in a bit.

Annie’s reply is immediate, and you turn your phone from Levi’s view in mortification.

[A. LEONHART]: 🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

[A. LEONHART]: WINGMAN??? NEED????

[ME]: NO! Do not come over here!

[A. LEONHART]: ok ok ok noted

[A. LEONHART]: i’ll keep jaeger to the left end of the bar

“Looks urgent.”

“Huh?” 

You shoot a glance back up to Levi, who’s now angled towards you with his cheek squished against his clenched fist. His elbow props him up on the bar top. 

“No! No. It’s just my friend Annie. She — is actually the one who gave me the number to that hotline in the first place,” you confess.

Levi hums in that delicious way you’ve come to crave. 

“I don’t want to derail your evening. I’ve already taken you away from them for a while.”

Your heart is hesitant, but it grows despite yourself. 

“If you want me to stay, then I’ll stay,” you quietly state. “I… liked talking to you. I mean, beyond the whole — you know.”

He nods once, setting his drink down. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want you to disappear, either. My job’s not exactly corporate. Not many people can separate fantasy from reality. With you, I never had to bullshit what it was, but…”

Levi trails off, sighing heavily.

“...but I also understand if it’s just a fantasy, for you.”

Something nestles itself between the lines of his words. 

Something he isn’t saying outright, sussing out if he has any right to try.

“Do you really mean that, Levi?”

That sigh turns into a curbed huff, smile fleeting but enough to bring your stomach butterflies. 

“Damn. Sounds nice, hearing my name in person.”

Oh, sweet Jesus.

You could scream into your damn seltzer, but you decide to play it as cool as you possibly can.

“So Levi’s your real name?”

He nods.

“Not creative enough to come up with an alias."

Levi shifts, rolling out a shoulder.

"But to answer your question, I’m saying I… yeah, I mean it. I wouldn’t mind asking you out for coffee sometime, given we seem to run on the same gym schedule as it is. Just didn’t know if you wanted to leave it at the hotline and call it a day — no pun intended.”

Are you seriously hearing what he’s saying right now?

Does Levi want to step out of a fantasy and into your reality?

Your lips part with a million questions only to end up blurting a very stupid one: 

“Are you single?”

That earns a bark of a laugh, causing his head to gloriously drop back, exposing his neck.

(All you want to do is sink your teeth into it.)

“Yes. Very,” he promises. “Are you, still?”

“Very,” you promise back.

“And my job doesn’t bother you?”

You haven't quite gotten that far, logistically, but it's only a coffee.

He isn't asking to marry you.

Besides, he talks about it like any other office job. You can't find any ill feeling toward it.

“Work is work,” you argue with a one-shoulder shrug. “Sure, it’s unconventional, but… I’m so used to not knowing what I want, or second-guessing what’s good for me, and I don’t think I’ve ever second guessed a damn thing with you.”

Bringing the seltzer back up to his mouth, Levi smirks against the can, mulling something over. 

You smile in return, sipping your drink.

It's the truth.

He may not really know you, but he knows you.

Just as you're beginning to think you know him.

“Well, if you don’t get too wasted with your friends tonight—”

He steals a ballpoint pen from a dampened closed check from his left side.

Then he snatches a napkin from one of the bartending stations with lemons, limes, and straws.

Hunching over, he scribbles on said napkin, before turning a cheek to you.

“—and you end up going to the gym tomorrow morning—”

Levi then sits up taller, folds the napkin, and reaches for your hand resting on the bar top. 

His skin is smooth. 

Heated. 

Your entire body melts to his whim as he turns your wrist over, palm facing up.

One by one his fingers unfurl your fingers, nestles the napkin in your hand, then closes your fist for safe keeping.

“—give me a call.”

Leaving a twenty on the bar counter, Levi lets go of your hand to slip off of his stool.

You say nothing as you watch him give you one last once-over, expression full of admiration, before turning into the sea of people.

A call.

Flexing your hand, you uncrinkle the napkin to read the number etched black on white.

Not the Scout Services Hotline.

No — his number.

Your attention flies back to the original spot where you've now properly abandoned your friends, but you know they'll forgive you for your absence.

Annie knows.

She'll cover for your abrupt disappearance.

On autopilot you yank out your phone, bypassing the texts from your friends, emails from work, and tap the little telephone icon.

Zero through nine appear.

Hastily you type the number, hesitation long gone, and press send.

One ring.

Two.

By the third, it abruptly cuts. You hear shuffling in the background. Cars beeping.

“Hello, Levi Ackerman speaking.”

Levi Ackerman.

Knowing his full name warms your heart.

Standing from your stool, you rise to your toes to search the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Levi stands there on the sidewalk, holding his phone up to his ear.

“Hi, Levi. It’s formerly Scarlet.”

Immediately he turns to the bar, searching the very same window.

Searching for you.

You smile to yourself.

"My schedule just opened up. I know it's a little late for some coffee, but..."

Trailing off, your teeth catch your bottom lip.

Be selfish.

"Are you free for some tea now?”

.

FIN

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

How are we feeling, Hotliner Nation? I teased that this may not be the end of this story. I'm not against writing a sequel, whether to continue the immediate story or time skip, but I wanted to see what people thought before I spoke too soon. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed our hotline journey together.

In the meantime I invite you to follow me here or subscribe to my AO3, as I have other projects in the works (including finishing the final chapters of my canon-based amnesia au with Levi, Silver Underground.)

The last two months have been such a wonderful journey, and I thank every single one of you for engaging the way you have. I never anticipated such a frenzy when I started P4, so sincerely, from the bottom of my heart - thank you for the comments, reblogs, inbox mssgs, etc. Every reblog gives this writer wings.

[mellosdrawings]

Can we hear more about the N2 squad? I love them :)

(Side note: Can we get a Trey doodle in your style? I just want to see what he looks like drawn by you. Love your drawings!)

(Side note p2: you can ignore the first side note if you wish!)

More about the N2 squad uuuuuh *check my notes*

Leona sleeps in very weird positions like a cat and often kicks his legs around. He's also a furnace so it's not rare that he ends in the middle of a cuddle pile, especially since he likely won't get up at all during the night.

(It's not rare that Jamil and Vil complain about having been kicked during the night)

Jamil and Leona regularly play chess together. Jamil picked up on the rules very fast but still can't quite win against Leona. He regularly has false joys before Leona inevitably crushes all his hopes because he just refuses to go easy with him.

Vil grooms both Jamil and Vil to de-stress. Paints their nails, brushes and styles their hair, plays dolls with them whenever they agree to try out clothes or jewelries for him. He doesn't want to change them but his love language is just... grooming. So that's what he does.

Jamil was a bit shy about it at first but he certainly doesn't dislike it. Leona playfully fights him a bit about it before he just gives up and lets him do whatever he wants.

Leona and Vil go back a year or so already. They've dated on and off, been sex buddies, broke off in big flourishes, etc. They only properly settle together after they bring Jamil to the mix. Despite being his own kind of mess, Jamil works well to glue them all together.

At one point Leona brought Jamil to help in his club coz there was a few sick guys and they couldn't train properly because of low numbers. He knew Jamil was good at flying but turns out Jamil is actually really good at Spelldrive so now he regularly kidnaps him to play together.

Vil (and Rook) love to watch them fly around and have fun. (Plus those clothes are so cool looking please who wouldn't be in love?!)

(Side note: Hm, well, I have a little Trey in Spelldrive getup from the AU I'm preparing about my and @the-fab-fox 's OCs?)

(I'll draw him more in time, promise <3)

[yxxdel]

𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐓 FT. SAE ITOSHI 𖦹°‧ ** you can’t bear physical contact during summer, it’s just too hot. your boyfriend think otherwise.

W/C : 1.3k

C/W : none, pure fluff, reader is feeling insecure (?)

A/N : first fluffy post hihi

𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 a lot of things.

He hated weak and annoying people; he hated when his body was too exhausted to train; and he hated when someone raised their voice at him.

But one of the things he hated the most, was the summer. The air was too hot to even breathe, his clothes stuck to his body due to sweat, he couldn’t train properly and the list went on..

But if he hated summer so much, it was for one particular reason.

Sae preferred the cold weather, not only because it matched his personality but also because he could be near you all the time.

Your cute eyes looking up at him and asking him to warm your hands— he loved that. He loved wrapping his arms around you and kissing your red nose.

So yes, Sae hated summer just because he couldn’t be close to you.

Every time he tried to hold you, you gently pushed him away, saying that you were too hot.

So here he was, sulking like a baby on the couch as he was watching one of his previous games.

Yet he couldn’t concentrate; his mind was always drawn to you.

He let out a sigh as he leaned back against the sofa, closing his eyes. Sae didn’t consider himself clingy, but when you refused to kiss or hug him ?

Damn, he was like a child.

Hearing your footsteps, his body immediately rose as he saw you walking toward the kitchen, in underwear.

Well, him too, he was shirtless and in short, and was slowly melting because of the weather .

He titled his head to the side slightly, his teal gaze admiring your curves.

He called your name in a small whine, walking behind you as you put your empty glass on the counter, smiling.

“What is it, baby?”

You noticed his pout, something unusual.

But when he tried to wrap his arms around you, you put your hand on his chest and gently got away from his embrace.

“See? You don’t love me anymore.”

Sae crossed his arms as his tone was cold, like always, but still soft in a way he only used for you.

You giggled as you shook your head, grinning because you found him so cute.

“I love you, Sae. It’s just that I can’t bear the heat of your body right now. I know you want to cuddle, and I’m sorry.”

He only scoffed, grabbing your wrist to bring you closer. He rested his chin on your bare shoulder, his arms wrapping tightly around you.

“You can take it, it’s not like you’re gonna die.”

He mumbled, not even caring if his body was starting to get hot too.

He wanted your touch, so he will get your touch. Winter, autumn, spring, and summer.

Your cheeks started to become red, both from the sentence he used and the sudden wave of heat running through your body.

You smiled, grabbing his shoulders.

“Sae, baby, I’m serious. Plus we’re both sweating, I mustn't smell good. “

The midfielder only pulled you closer when you tried to push him away again, shaking his head.

“No, you don’t smell bad.”

For him, you always smelled like a delicate flower. Like tulip. He didn’t even know why, since you didn’t own any perfume with this scent.

Maybe it was something psychological for him.

You couldn’t help but smile, finding it adorable how needy he was for your touch. Caressing his scalp, you sighed.

“Alright, let’s take a shower together, alright ? So you can hug me without the risk of me fainting.”

He immediately raised his head from your neck, his eyes narrowing.

Oh, Sae liked that idea.

“Ok.”

He then took a step back, leaving you with the space you needed.

You inhaled deeply, showing him a sweet smile. You noticed his eyes running down your body, and you felt yourself blushing again.

“Can I kiss you now ? Or in the shower ?”

His question surprised you, and you chuckled.

“You can do both, but wait to be under the cold water to actually kiss me.”

He immediately stepped closer the moment you agreed, but his face stopped inches away from yours at your last words.

With a frown, he asked you:

“What do you mean ‘actually kiss you’ ?”

Your fingertips trailed from his collarbone down to his chest, like a feather, and it made him shiver.

“Well, you know. Kisses with you always end up with your body on top of mine, so I can only give you a peck right now.”

You could laugh at how random the conversation ended up, but you loved it. He crossed his arms, his stoic expression staring down at you.

“Then from now on, I will hate your peck.”

You laughed, clearly amused about how much he looked like a child behaving like this.

“Is that so ? So I’m not going to give you my small kisses before you go training, or when I leave the house ?”

Sae stayed silent for a moment, evaluating the situation with his tongue pocking his cheek.

He then simply leaned in, turning his face slightly so you were facing his cheek.

“I changed my mind. I want the small kiss now, and the big kiss for under the shower.”

Shaking your head, you leaned in and met his skin with your soft lips. Stepping back, you bit your lips as you saw his ear became the same color as his hair.

“Let’s go then, a cold and long shower awaits us.”

He grabbed your wrist as you walked toward the bathroom, following you like a puppy with a small smile tucking his lips.

Inside the bathroom, you were now curiously more shy.

It wasn’t the first time you and Sae took a shower together, but each time it still made you nervous.

What if he didn’t like your body ? What if he saw you the way you saw yourself ?

Those questions ran through your mind all the time.

Oh, but foolish you were for thinking that.

Sae adored your body; he worshiped every single inch of it. Either it was your chest, stomach, thighs, or ass, he wanted to kiss it all the time.

Yes, he loved your body, but that wasn’t what he loved the most. Because, above all, he loved you.

Sensing something wrong, Sae held your hands in his, his lips flying above your skin.

In a heavy silence, he left a trail of soft kisses from your knuckles to your shoulder. Without breaking eye contact, he gently grabbed the strap of your bra and pulled it down slowly.

When both of you were naked, he held your chin.

“Look at me, love.”

And you did because, of course, you trusted him.

In the shower, he cleaned your back and you did his.

The cold water soothed both of you during the hot summer.

His pink hair stuck to his forehead because of the water, making him even more attractive.

“And now, do I get my kiss ?”

He said it teasingly as he gently pushed your back against the shower wall, his finger putting away the hair in front of your eyes.

Closing your eyes, you kissed him. He let out a faint groan as he deepened the kiss, his hands exploring your body.

Well, he missed you—it has been only two days—but he still missed your body. Like the touch-deprived person that he was.

Further in the day, after the shower healed you from the heat of your apartment, you were both lying in bed.

You randomly remembered that you bought a big ventilator; Sae almost killed you for that.

You turned it on in the bedroom so your needy boyfriend could finally cuddle with you.

So here you were, his arms wrapped around you and his face on your chest, sleeping like a baby.

So no, you weren’t on the ‘what Sae Itoshi hates’ list, but on the contrary, you were on the ‘rare things Sae Itoshi likes’.

And you were at the top of that list.

© yxxdel 2024 — all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, or redistribute my work without permission.

[strwbwrrybunny]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈- in the midst of july, your partner proposes a road trip, which initially goes smoothly until you both find yourselves lost. as tensions rise along with sexual desires, the situation becomes more…sticky

𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈╰┈➤ connie x black y/n

𝒸𝓌ׂ╰┈➤ wordy plot,car sex,oral sex,praise, choking,fingering, dirtytalk,unprotected sex, fingering,18+

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ׂ╰┈➤ 4k

!

“admit it, connie—we are totally lost!” you muttered in exasperation, slapping the big map onto the dashboard, your eyebrows drawn tightly.

your phone lost service hours ago as your determined boyfriend drove deeper into the desert terrain. you observed the map without understanding a single thing. a painful throb pulsed through your head, either from the pounding stress of being lost or the relentless california heat.

the sun's heat kissed your glistening brown skin, and you were glad you’d applied ‘black girl sunscreen’ on both yourself and your boyfriend before you set off.you knew that when connie had suggested a road trip, some bullshit was bound to happen.

the first problem was the choice of transport,connie’s car.a white 1992 chevrolet camaro rs ,notorious for breaking down more than running.the second issue was that the heating and air conditioning didn't function properly, and california's heat was relentless.

the final issue involved the mysterious sputtering and jerking it did at times. you’d have to get into the driver seat to steer while connie pushed from behind. it was practically a death trap. you suggested driving your car, but connie refused.

you wanted to challenge him,but when you looked into those puppy-dog hazel eyes, you couldn’t say no.

having been childhood sweethearts with connie since preschool, you'd think you would be used to it.yet, after all these years it still tugged at your heartstrings.you vividly remembered that fateful day you fell off the swing.loud wails of despair upon seeing scraped skin and a rip in your new pink dress. a tap on your shoulder caused you to seize your sniffles and turn around, eyes settling on a boy with short hair.

he had grabbed your hand and helped you up, presenting a flower from behind his back with a 'tada!'. it seemed ridiculous now, but back then it left young you absolutely smitten with the boy.

from that moment on, you two were practically joined at the hip. you guys went through all of middle, elementary, and high school together. freshman year, connie had finally decided to ask you to be his girlfriend. you two landed your first apartment together right after high school, and you couldn't be more happier sharing your own space with your partner.

your gaze landed on the picture of connie and you,photo tucked into his speedometer.

that night felt like yesterday—you remembered the thunder and how scared you were. you called connie and told him that your parents weren't home and you were scared, he immediately reassured you. his sweet voice assuring he’d be there in ten minutes. that night had consisted of snacks, face masks, and making love.

you thought it was adorable that he'd printed off the picture you guys had taken that night, even turning it into a charming little polaroid.

“we’re not lost.” connie insisted, bringing you back to reality.

“right, any moment now we'll have to face inbred mutant freaks.all thanks to your dreadful navigational skills,“ you pulled down the sun visor and inspected your appearance. your makeup was creasing around the corners of your mouth,you frowned.if you had known it would be this hot, you would've opted out on a full face.

thank god for sweat-proof lace glue.

connie gave you a side-eye as you used the beauty blender to smooth out the creases. snapping the sun visor back, you glared at him with raised eyebrows and folded arms.

“you’re so fake,when were you gonna tell me i looked like a greasy pizza?” you questioned.

“i don't understand what you're getting at.you look beautiful as always,” connie reassured his girlfriend. he genuinely meant it; you were beautiful to him. your dark hair pulled into a ponytail, sides pulled out to frame your heart-shaped face. you attempted to intimidate him with a look, but your big doe eyes and pouty lips made you appear more like an annoyed puppy.

you wore an orange sundress that hugged your curves and accentuated your figure. you had chose not to wear a bra and connie could see the outline of your nipples. those large hoops he loved to play with dangeled in your ears.your lips shone with a clear gloss, lined with a brown pencil accompanied by butterscotch and cinnamon roll butter gloss.

connie squinted at you.

“actually, you do look a bit ugly”

you rolled your eyes at him and turned toward your window, letting the wind refresh you with its breeze.

“come on, lighten up! i'm kidding“ connie grinned and playfully poked your side.

“just trying to lighten the mood baby.” he said as he continued to poke you.each time you slapped his fingers away he would purposefully swerve the car. you sighed, believing the car might blow its head-gasket from the stress, and reluctantly shifted your focus to the man who’d been bothering you.

hunger gnawed at your stomach and caused it to growl.if only connie hadn't gotten you two lost.a juicy burger would already be in front of you,your mouth drooled at the thought.

“yeah me too.” connie mumbled at your stomach.

with his gaze remaining on the road, connie placed his warm hand on your thigh, causing your stomach to somersault. you didn't realize your fascination with hands until you started dating connie in high school.

you ruled it out as a fetish because you only liked his hands. they were large and veiny, with neatly trimmed nails finished in clear polish. connie cared a lot about his appearance, which you found endearing and sexy.

and just like that, your cunt was watering and you were horny. fearing you'd soak through your dress due to the lack of underwear, you squeezed your thighs together tightly. connie noticed you fidgeting and glanced over, his face flooded with concern.

you see connie and you had placed a bet during an argument two weeks ago. the two of you agreed not to have sex for a month, and whoever gave in first had to do the dishes for three months.

he had called you a spoiled bratty nympho freak that couldn’t keep your legs shut. just because you liked a little sex here and there didn’t mean you were a nympho. you would prove him wrong.

connie sure hadn’t made it easy for you to keep your hands to yourself, strutting around the apartment shirtless with that beautiful toned body. his sweats always hanging teasingly low, just enough to reveal trimmed pubes and a sculpted v-line.he’d oh so conveniently have to squeeze past you occasionally and you’d feel his dick in your back.

you’d be making breakfast and he’d wrap those inked arms around you. soft kisses peppered along your neck as he held you close to him.

it was driving you nuts not being able to touch him.

“you okay babe?” connie’s voice intruded your thoughts.

“im fine, just hungry“

you weren’t lying, you were hungry for meat. just a different kind of meat.

“let me pull over and we’ll look at the map together.there has to be a diner somewhere around here.” connie frowned. he felt bad that you were hungry because it was partially his fault. he blamed the other half on the poorly written map.

you had offered to pack a couple of sandwiches and other various snacks for the road, but connie insisted it wasn’t necessary. he’d planned for you guys to stop at an array of diners.he thought it’d be fun going to different places to eat, but he didn’t expect he’d get so turned around. they’d been driving for eight hours, two of those hours bickering about their location.

connie seemed to loom over you at six four as he spread the map across the hood of the car, muscles flexing as he doodled on it with a pen. you gulped, looking at him.you were standing behind him so you were free to gawk in secret.

his eyebrows were pushed together in concentration, jaw clenched as he rested his body against the car hood. he wore a black compression shirt, and you could see every fucking muscle he had under there. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was teasing you with the black sweatpants he had on.

he knew they were your favorite.

each time the wind would blow, you’d get a hint of his smell, husky with a hint of spice.

it was fucking intoxicating.

you wished he would fuck you right here on the hood of his car. you didn’t care if people would see you getting your poor pussy pounded by him. you just needed him.

connie snapped in your face.

“y/n,are you even listening?”

“of course” you lied, acting like you weren’t daydreaming about connie pulling your dress up.he rolled his eyes at you, annoyed that he’d have to repeat himself.

“i said i know where we are, there’s a diner forty minutes from here” connie repeated, rolling the map up and tucking it underneath his arm.

“good, let’s get back on the highway” you muttered in embarrassment at having been caught staring like a creep.

you two were back on the highway, his hand placed on your thigh. the car had been moving for what seemed like ages, and you couldn’t take it anymore.you were bursting at the seams in sexual frustration.connie was right, you were a fucking sex addict and you needed him.

you unlatched your seatbelt and leaned over the armrest, a gasp leaving connie’s lips as you opened the fly of his sweatpants and pulled him out. bastard knew what he was doing, he didn’t even have underwear on.

“i knew you’d crack you fucking nympho, now suck daddy's dick. show me how much you missed it” he rasped, one hand burying into your hair and the other grasping the wheel. your mouth watered at his pink glistening tip, and it was clear he had been struggling to refrain himself as well.

you just had had happened to crack first.

you licked your lips,holding the base of his dick and swirling your tongue around the tip.

“a-ah shit,missed this mouth s’much.” he groaned out, clutching the steering wheel. he wasn’t sure if it was safe to be doing this while driving, but he didn’t care.

the way you were swallowing and choking on his cock had him mewling out in pleasure. his tip hitting the back of your throat repeatedly, and you nearly threw up but held it down. if having the back of your throat bruised meant you were going to get your pussy stretched out, you didn’t care. your face was a saliva covered mess as you slurped and sucked.

“mm’ you’re sucking my dick so fucking good,like the little slut you are” connie cooed rubbing your back reassuringly. tears prickled your eyes as connie violated your throat,a wet slurp sound each time your mouth lowered onto him. you decided to give your poor throat a break and grabbed his dick with both hands, stroking and twisting at the same time.

his eyes snapped closed in bliss as he forgot he was driving, his head resting back against the headrest. connie suddenly jerked forward as the car began sliding off the road, you continued stroking him, and he whined as his tip dripped pre-cum. you knew it was risky doing this, knowing there was a chance connie could lose control of the wheel. but you didn’t care you were going to suck him dry. it was his job to watch the road, not yours.

“s-shit i almost crashed and you’re sucking my cock like a whore.” connie groaned in bliss. he was nearing his end with each tug of your soft hands on his dick,he found it harder and harder to control the car. he wanted nothing more than to buck his hips into your mouth and use you as his personal pocket pussy.

he veered to the side of the empty road and shut off the car. instantly he grabbed your head with both hands, all you could do was open your mouth wide as he used you for his pleasure. cries of bliss left his lips as you choked repeatedly, disgusting wet noises filling the car.

with one last buck of his hips, his salty sperm was spurting down your throat.”ugh” connie gasped out as you sucked him through his high, licking every drop of cum from his dick until it was clean.

he almost snapped the seatbelt trying to get it off,ordering you out of the car to which you happily obliged. he tugged his shirt off, and you almost fell to your knees.carved abs heaving as he recovered from his recent nut,tan skin glistening beautifully in the sun.

he placed the shirt on the hood of the automobile so it wouldn’t burn you, you heard his sweatpants fall to the ground, and you knew he was about to rock your world.

it had been two whole weeks since you felt him inside of you.

and you yearned for him.

a smile crept onto your face as he hiked your dress up, hands flat on the hood of the car.a small whimper leaving your lips as he forced your cheek against the hood.he pinned your arms behind your back leaving you to his mercy.

“this is what you wanted, right?” he husked, a loud crack of his palm against your ass. you bit your lip as you almost screamed. “you wanted me to hike your dress up and fuck you.you don’t think i saw that look in your eye? so slutty,” he hissed, hand cracking off your ass again.

you cried out.

you could do nothing as connie spanked you, your ass was red and sore. yet, you craved for him to continue. you wanted to be punished for giving into your needs.a whimper left your lips as you felt his tip glide across your twitching clit, he groaned in pleasure as he glided himself between your wet cunt.he wasn’t even in you yet and you were leaking.

“look at you, so fucking needy” he said breathy.

he was right, you were needy. and you needed him.

“connie!” you screamed as he pushed his thick length into you, stretching your walls.he wasted no time fucking your pussy, pulling all of his dick out except the tip,just to slam back inside of you. mewls of pleasure fumbled from your lips, connie using your pinned hands to leverage his thrust.

you were too blinded by the rough pounding to care if people saw you with your ass tooted in the air as you got fucked. fucked,like the nympho you were.connie felt so good, a soft thudding filling the air as he rocked his hips into you.

his hand ran over the ‘connie♡︎’ tattoo on your ass, and he smirked, my crazy ass girlfriend he thought. maybe you were delusional, but you admired your man, and you loved tattoos, so it was only right you get his name tatted.

“b-baby!” you sobbed as he angles his hips, pushing deeper inside of you. connie’s thrusts were unrelenting and painfully pleasurable . his sexy grunts drove you crazy, and you begged him to release your hands so you can rub your throbbing clit.

“please, p-please let me touch myself!” you plead, tears streaming down your face. he delivered a few more hard thrust then freed your hands. you braced one hand on the car hood, other circling your tingling bud in time with his thrusts.

"mm, fuck me harder!" you gasp. he grips your ponytail with one hand, other on your back for support as he plunges into you. your eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy as a wave of pleasure tightens in your stomach.

connie’s head lulls back as he fucks you aganist his car,you feel so good around his dick.you’re wet and tight and it’s got his toes curling.he couldn't believe his sex addict girlfriend had him out in the open,fucking her.

"y-y/n.” connie groans as you work your hips on him. he grasps your ass with enough force to leave a mark. a rush of pleasure mixed with pain floods over you.

you nearly shout as he matched your rhythm, your butt bouncing off his toned stomach with a slap slap slap.

"fuck! right there” you cry out in bliss, teeth digging into your lips as his tip prods into your g-spot. you’re helpless beneath him, he takes full advantage of the situation, using all his pent-up sexual frustration onto you.

his balls slap against your ass as he pounds his hips into you.you looked so breedable to him,mouth agape, eyes shut in bliss.he imagined how sexy you'd look pregnant,stomach swollen with his seed.

you were wrapped around his twitching cock so tightly it made him shiver.

"connniee." you drew out,elongating his name. his intense movements made your head spin.

a rush of curses spilled from your mouth when the knot in your stomach gave way.

“let it all out love. cum on this dick” connie urged, still thrusting.he remained deep inside you but moved slower.you trembled at his steady rhythm,crying out as he fucked you through your orgasm.

his thumb clumsily found your clitoris and your back arched as he massaged the bud in circular motions. you were so sensitive but lacked the energy to protest as he had his way with you.

his erratic thrusts indicated he was on the brink of his own orgasm. his legs trembled underneath him before he abruptly pulled out, releasing spurts of cum onto the hot gravel with a deep groan as he stood stroking himself.

"fuckkk.” he drawled out.

in sheer exhaustion, you pulled your dress down still laying face first on the car.your eyes peered over at connie.his sweat-slicked body looked divine, dick still standing high and proud, wanting more.

“i’ll take that in my mouth next time” you purred,finally finding the strength to stand.”i wouldn’t doubt,freak” connie stated cupping your cheeks, making your lips pucker.

his normally hazel eyes seemed darker, filled with desire. you could sense he wasn't finished with you by the way he looked at you like a piece of delectable meat. he practically dragged you to the car,shifting the seat back as he sat down. you quickly straddled him, eagerly pulling up your dress once again.

with trembling hands you held the base of his twitching cock. his body tensed and he moaned softly, his low eyes watching you position him at your wet entrance. you rubbed his sticky tip against your wet folds making his already weak legs shudder.

he knew you were teasing him, which only made him more aroused. precum dripped from his tip as your wet folds continually slid across him. his head rolled back against the headrest when you finally sank onto him, hands gripping the leather seat in bliss as he stretched you once again.

"y/n." his deep, husky voice resonated like music in your ears.his hands sliding down the curve of your back as you adjusted to his size. he could tell it was slightly painful for you and as much he wanted to buck his hips up deeper into that pretty little pussy, he refrained ,not wanting to hurt you.

"doing so well, princess” his praise filled your tummy with butterflies. you rested your hands on his shoulders for balance and started sliding up and down.a surge of confidence filling you as his whines reached your ears. his stomach clenched as you wrapped perfectly around him,tight, wet walls clinging to him intimately.

he felt intoxicated by your touch, absolutely enamored with the way you fucked him. no other woman had ever made him feel this way. you had him wrapped around your pretty little finger and you knew it.

passionately, you rode connie at a consistent speed, your wet pussy squelching each descent of your hips. he looked irresistibly sexy with his mouth slightly open in pleasure, a hint of drool escaping from his lips.

who's the sex addict now? you thought.

“ooo baby, your pussy feels so good!” connie cried out, his face scrunching as you grind onto him sloppily. you leant down and kissed his lips, his hand latching around back of your neck. as your tongue danced against his.

"o-oh f-ucking me so good.” you breathed shakily into his mouth while he bucked his hips beneath you, the vehicle rocking wildly as you two went at it.

connie’s mouth devoured yours sloppily, leaving your lips swollen.you groaned softly when the all-too-familiar tension built up in your stomach.

"your greedy little pussy is eating me up” connie sputtered.

you were creaming on his dick now, you were so fucking horny and he was so hot.your head fell back in pleasure, one hand playing with your nipples while the other held his shoulder.you were so wet that occasionally he’d slip out and his dick would rub against your clit. a shaken moan leaving your lips each time it happened.

“wet ass pussy,so messy for me.i can’t wait till’ i clean you up” he murmured in that deep sexy voice.with one more thrust of his hips you came.a cry emitting from your lips as you welcomed your sweet release.

the sight of you cumming on his dick pushed him over the edge ,his hands cupping your thighs lifting you off of him.his dick twitched as cum spurted onto his chest.

a drawn out shit falling from his glistening lips.

a giggle left your lips, “it’s so much!”

you leaned over to grab napkins from the glove compartment,cleaning him. connie chuckled, “it’s your fault.that tight ass pussy does something to me” he breathlessly huffed out.

you felt your cheeks warm up.

“get in the back—i wanna clean you up”. connie gently demanded tapping your thigh. you slid into the backseat as he made adjustments for extra space.by this point, most of your makeup had melted away, and you were grateful for having packed makeup wipes in your bag.

you snapped out of your thoughts as connie parted your legs, gently cradling each thigh with his hands as you lay on your back. half of his large frame jutted out of the car, and he knelt on his pants so the rough gravel wouldn’t scrape his knees.

your pussy watered as he began placing kisses on your thighs,starting from your gold ankle bracelet with a ‘c’ charm on it, to right above your pussy.

you stiffled a moan as his middle and index finger pushed into you,thumb fiddling your clit.

"i-it’s sensitive!” you cried out, hands cupping your titties as your legs shook prematurely. you felt his fingers pull out,his mouth now on your wet cunt, lapping you up.

your head felt heavy and you couldn’t stop it as it fell to the side.your back arching as a guttural moan escaped from your lips, his tongue flicking over your pussy folds now.

“you taste so fucking good” he spoke, pausing after each word to take a slow lick with his long tongue. you whimpered and squeezed your eyes closed as you felt him pull your lips apart, revealing your pretty pink throbbing clit.

his eyes glistened,looking like he'd just hit the jackpot. without a second thought connie latched onto the sensitive bud. all you could do was whine and squeeze at his shoulders,his strong arms holding your squirming body in place.

"c-connie! you choked out," you're eating my pussy so good”

he moaned into your pussy, fingers back pumping in you with a nasty squelching sound. he curled his fingers each time he hit the base of your walls. dried up tears streaked your face and your lips trembled with pleasure, pussy pulsating around his fingers as your eyes rolled back in bliss.

you almost snapped your legs closed as you felt him brush against g-spot again, arms pulling you down further onto his face.

“i-i’m close, so fucking close” you gasped as his fingers fucked you. you were embarrassed to be cumming this fast but connie knew how to work your pussy. he knew your body like the back of his hand. his tongue was back on your poor little clit, and you realized he was spelling his name.

c o n n i e

as soon as he spelled out the last letter, the knot in your stomach snapped once again.your body convulsed with pleasure, legs clamping closed.connie talked you though your high, placing kisses on your ass as he traced the stretch marks on your thighs.

once you had calmed down you opened your eyes to see connie tugging his shirt back on.your tired eyes met his and he smirked.

“good to have you back princess, let’s go eat i’m fucking starving”

“agreed” you huffed.

“also, you’re on dish duty for three whole months”

“whatever, it was worth it” you shrugged.

“nympho freak.”

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭🍒

＠ ᴄɪɴɴɴ4ᴍᴏɴ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ.ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ sᴛᴇᴀʟ ᴏʀ ᴍᴏᴅɪꜰʏ. ᴍᴡᴀʜ, ʙʏᴇ♡︎

[biolumien]

hello!! I loved your rooftop smoke fic so much oh my goodness could I ask for literally anything hoshina I would love to read more of your works... It would make my day if hoshina fell first/if he was the one hopelessly in love but anything that is easier to write for you I would love to read

ALSO PLS FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS IF ITS NOT EXACTLY IT FOR U!!! TYSM IN ADVANCE

notes: bwahhhh omg… thank you for liking my first work…  i havent written hoshina before… but uh. i hope this is good. same reader-insert from last time for this one too!

hoshina falls first (or tries not to, because to love is to be known)

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader i turned it into kind of a character study, forgive me word count: 1103

let’s get this right off the bat, to clear any misconceptions. hoshina’s not a romantic. he doesn’t fall for anyone first. he’s built up the demeanor of a sly, wily little fox not because he wanted to, but because he had to. tread lightly around others, and they will never know what lies in your heart, the insecurities that bubble and eat at you alive. never let them know how you feel, because as soon as your inherent, weak-willed intent is shown, you’ll be devoured alive.

well.

that’s what hoshina tells himself, anyway. 

it’s what he has to remind himself of constantly when he sees you.

you’re not allowed, he reminds himself, to get under his skin. not in any mean way, not in the way where you play up his insecurities–except you do, don’t you? you don’t mean to, but he gets the impression that if he were conventionally stronger, more impressive, that he’d deserve your attention, the small smile that crosses your lips and lights up your eyes when you see him, the faint exhale of breath when you see him–he’d deserve that if he were better. if he were just simply better, he’d deserve it. he’d feel worthy of it.

hoshina’s not a romantic.

he signed up for a line of very dangerous, practically suicidal work knowing it might mean the death of him.

all to prove that he was worth something.

he’s not the ashes you throw away, he’s a brilliant ball of fire, can’t you see–but he needed to prove that he could shine alone, under his own merit. he didn’t need anyone, except he needed mina to get him into the third division anyway. 

he didn’t need you, except he kept making excuses to get close to you, and not even in any particular suave way. hoshina practically pines for your affections and attention, but the key thing about it is that he refuses, in a way that’s either very cute or insanely frustrating, to make it seem like he’s making the first move. fleeting kisses he shared with you, he never properly initiated himself–he’d stand there, make a big show of leaving, and you’d pulled him by the collar to kiss him. 

but at the very least you seem to be accommodating about it, in any case. you sometimes end up preparing him a cup of tea when you go on break, as if instinctually expecting him.

hoshina wonders if he’s pavlov’s dog in this case–drawn by you, trained to behave around you.

he doesn’t know how he feels about it.

“you keep coming here,” you say to him one day in the lab. at your desk is a wide variety of papers–notes on chemical formulas for bullets, the blueprints for one of mina’s new absurdly-large guns shoved haphazardly under a stack of notebooks, a coffee cup clasped between your hands, and you blow some of the fresh steam off. “i’m starting to think the captain’s going to find you slacking off.”

there’s a sardonic smile on your lips, but hoshina’s gotten better at reading you. you’re happy to see him–he can see it in the tiny way you fidget a little bit when he takes the spare coffee mug from your desk, finding it full of coffee already. does he feel his face softening, his drawn-up shoulders relaxing? no, surely not. he’s better than that. he won’t be influenced by you–and yet. and yet. 

“you have a lock on your door if you don’t want to be disturbed,” hoshina says simply, taking a sip of the coffee. black with a single spoonful of sugar in it, because as much as it was impressive to drink your coffee purely black, hoshina quite frankly couldn’t take it. and he’d built as much a complex around that, too, as if a simple coffee preference might define how worthy he is of love. respect. the works. he watches you, sees dark under-eyes from days of restless work and the writer’s bump on your middle finger, and feels his heart squeeze.

god, he hates it. does he? does he hate it? is he insecure about that? does he hate that he doesn’t hate it? does he hate that by pining for you, by forcing his way into your life, that he’s created the rumblings of his own downfall? no. the worst part of it all is that he can’t hate you. can’t hate the way you watch him, and he wonders if you’re watching him the same way he observes you–like a prey animal, almost, twitchy and nervous, in an attempt to grasp at feeble understanding. 

“if you keep coming back here, i’m going to assume you’re in love with me,” you say.

and you have no idea what those words do to him, really. you don’t know, because hoshina has learned to obscure most of his emotions, at the very least. 

so why does his face feel so hot?

“hm.”

he can’t even come up with a proper retort. you’re staring at him expectantly, as if waiting for the classic hoshina quip–a cackle or giggle, a casual slap on the table with a you wish! attached to it. but it doesn’t come. hoshina stands there, gagged for a moment–and suddenly his grip on his coffee cup feels a little weak.

“hoshina.”

he wishes the smile on your lips didn’t trigger some gut instinct of delight in him.

he’s better than this, damn it. he’s better than this.

your smile quirks up the corners of your cheeks, and there’s something like a shy flush across your skin. and–

“i wish i could take a picture of your face right now,” you say. “you look like you’re coming down with something.”

hoshina scoffs, the sound a little more high-pitched than he’d like for it to be.

“you wish,” he says. 

“so are you?” you press. “in love with me?”

hoshina stares at you–there’s a sudden tightness in your shoulders that wasn’t there before–you’re worried about his answer. and despite it all–his bravado, his hatred of the mere idea that he might rely on someone else–that he would ever need someone to know his heart, that he might be cowed and tamed like a dog–

he loves you.

he doesn’t want you to be worried about the surety of his answer.

“yeah,” he says. “i love you.” and when that sudden tightness in your body language disappears, he finally finds the strength to quip, “just don’t faint over me, alright?” 

and when you reach out to hit his shoulder, he grasps you by the wrist and pulls you in to kiss you.

[bucknastysbabe]

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW//age gap, grooming, manipulation, no one is properly nice, Criston being crazy, Targtower!reader, canon era, anxiety and panic attacks, sibling strife, Alicent is tired, isolation, angst, sad ending, innocence/corruption kink, slight religious kink, v!fingering, oral, frottage, pnv!sex, lots of tears, I was emo okay and no I did not rush the ending no I did not-

WC: 9.5k (idk what happened oops)

Taglist: @arcielee @bambitas @aemonds-holy-milk @lovelykhaleesiii @starogeorgina @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @sugarpoppss2 @fairysluna @jamespotterismydaddy @elaratyrell

Being Alicent’s second daughter, the third of Viserys, your political pawn status was minimal in youth. You minded your own and listened, a constant shadow behind your mother. The queen was your idol— she was strong, devout, and loved deeply. It was your siblings who were willful, dragon blood coursing through their veins that made her fraught.

Somehow it felt you didn’t get any dragon blood. Your egg had refused to hatch, your eyes an ugly dark purple. The worst was that you had red hair. The hair of the Hightowers. You'd been born too late and too plain it seemed. The feeling of being strange led to shyness plaguing you. Hence why you’d clung to your mother’s skirts, she made you feel safe and beloved. Any closeness with your siblings dissolved as time wore on. Alicent apparently didn't mind, even if her child was manufacturing her own isolation.

Aemond devoted himself to scholarly learning, training in the yard, and flying on Vhagar. Helaena seemed to rather keep to herself, stitching beautiful works and catching her lovely insects. Aegon— he embraced hedonism and you’d leave it at that. You had been close with Daeron when he was a babe, loving on your little brother. Then Alicent sent him to Oldtown.

Ser Criston and your mother seemed to be the only presence you were around most of your childhood. You loved the white knight dearly, he’d bring you little gifts and swing you around as Alicent prattled on about something. He was so handsome and chivalrous, always a kind word upon his lips. Just the thought of the oath-sworn knight made you grow flushed and giddy.

You’d hide behind Ser Criston's white cloak when your father occasionally took interest. Viserys seemed annoyed at your shy demeanor, asking Criston to bring you to him. It was dreadful, he was decaying and his rotten smile was frightful. You would weep and shake, turning toward your mother or Criston. Looking for an escape.

The king would frown. He sniffed, “Here Cole, take the girl, Hightower as they come hm?”

Criston’s jaw clenched before he sighed, “Come on princess, we have appointments to keep.” You had grabbed his hand and left— ignoring Viserys' muttering. It brought a feeling of uselessness to your young heart. At least Daeron was bettering himself in Oldtown. The Kingsguard scoffed, “I wouldn’t appreciate sitting in his lap either. He will always have eyes for your half-sister, do remember that. Your mother has your interests in mind.”

“I understand, Ser Criston."

When Alicent was sleeping or tending to the matters of the realm, you oft sat with Ser Criston as he guarded the queen. He would tell you about his youth in the Dornish Marches, harrowing tales of battle and blood. One time as a child you grew so frightened you hopped in his arms. He laughed and petted your hair, “You’re alright, no vulture kings shall get you. Not with me here.” His smile was bright, and his brown eyes lit with humor.

You hid a picture you’d drawn of you all grown up, a beautiful maiden holding hands with Ser Criston. A dragon would be there too. Fantasies plagued your innocent mind, courtly love between a princess and her loyal white knight. Nothing like the isolation and tension that brought strife to your family. Everything was perfect and happy. Everyone loved each other. Stupid, stupid, silly you.

As you matured into the early stages of womanhood, your shyness and frayed nerves did not abate. In fact, fits of crying and shaking began to afflict you. Tourneys, balls, and weddings made your stomach turn and hands grow clammy. The Maester had given a tincture for fits and fears such as these, citing a ‘hysterical disposition.' The tincture was diluted milk of the poppy.

You were half-dazed and daft but no longer weeping through an entire feast. Small victories.

At three-and-ten you visited Dragonstone, bonding with the gorgeous Silverwing. As you flew around the island, tears streamed down your face. It was beautiful, so very beautiful. When you landed, your white knight and mother clapped, proud of their favorite princess. Even Aemond gave a word of applause. Rhaenyra watched with a strange look, further back. You refused to acknowledge her, you had heard all you needed to know about your elder sister.

Later, Aegon had japed with a sloshing goblet, “Ah, I was beginning to think you were a bastard dear sister. Maybe a lord will take an interest now.” Ser Criston had cuffed the lad on the ear at that, Aegon squeaking an apology.

The knight consoled you afterward, gloved hand tilting your chin up. His dark orbs bore into your own, his thumb swiping your tears. He stated intently, “Never, never for a second think you are not true-born. My princess, you are just beginning to blossom, you’re Targaryen as they come. I will defend that claim until my death.”

Your heart skipped a beat, tears welling up as you hugged the older man, thanking Ser Criston for his kindness. He was stiff at first, then gloved hands came to rest at your shoulders. He called you blossom after that, the pet name never failed to make your cheeks flush. Alicent took great pleasure that you had kept to their sides instead of wandering off to find whatever to abate the stress of being Royal. She would sniff occasionally, "Do remember what white signals, virtue."

Ser Criston named you the Queen of Love and Beauty at six and ten, a tourney Otto and Alicent schemed for you to get a suitor. Although the suitors were cracked in the helm and knocked on their ass. Criston was rather vicious this tourney, winning the melee and joust. You chose not to dwell on the blood splattered on his shiny armor, for it caused wicked thoughts. He grinned with red lips, offering the crown.

Aegon rolled his eyes, quipping something foul as he guzzled his wine. Viserys had apparently glared at the knight, mouth twisting. You smiled and blushed, feeling like a silly child again. The handsome marcher was consuming you more and more. Eyes that saw you wholly, his little blossom.

Later in the evening, many lords or heirs were at the feast for your sake. They did not seem interested, casting wary looks. You decided it was partly your nerves and shy nature, the glaring knight at arm's length was no benefit. You made one connection that night with a son of the Arbor, a sweet-faced Redwyne lad. His name was Meryn, that was the extent you knew. Grandsire seemed to be pleased with your choice. Criston's dark eyes lingered in your mind. Meryn had dark green eyes and straw-blonde hair. He would be alright if you had to, Meryn was courteous. You swallowed down bile at the thought of living so far away.

You’d become so struck with Cole you had begun to lie awake at night, purposely ignoring the desire that coursed through blue veins. He had said that a true, chaste maiden did not give in to carnal pleasures. Your mother said that self-pleasure was sinful and wicked. You'd read the Seven-Pointed Star, the Stranger would fondly take fornicators down to the seven hells.

You agreed, feeling sinful if your womanhood ever throbbed. Innocence remained a quality of yours, Viserys liked to call you his Septa daughter to Daemon. You’d rather be a Septa than a whore. Aegon had doomed himself already. You hated when he spoke so vulgar at the table, you had to look away in disgust.

Aegon crushed your entire world, in fact. The pair of you had ridden to the Dragonpit to ride Sunfyre and Silverwing. You rode in silence, Ser Arryk and Erryk behind on guard. The stilted awkward air between Aegon and you seemed to thicken as the Dragonpit loomed closer. Your elder brother blurted “Are you still infatuated with that preening peacock Cole?”

You stiffened and stared, aghast, mouth agape.

Aegon’s full lips smirked. He laughed “Oh, you still are. I forget you follow him and mother around the keep like a shadow. You’re six and ten, you don’t want to fuck a lordling? Or are you saving it for Ser Cole?”

“Stop it, he’s kind and a good knight. You should respect our Kingsguard, he keeps mother safe.”

Hot tears began springing at your eyes as Aegon laughed harder, that horrid shrieking giggle. One of the Cargyll’s snorted. Aegon always made you feel so silly and childish. You sniffed angrily “What are you getting at Aegon?”

“Sorry sister, sorry, it’s just- hah! It’s just your white knight’s cloak has been likely been dirtied since I was born. You do know the rumor don’t you?”

Your heart began to patter uncomfortably against your chest. Ser Erryk always carried your medicine— you did not wish to take it as you were trying to fly. Aegon leered with a grin. He spoke in a low murmur, “He hates our dear half-sister so, we know that. Rumor has it Cole sullied his oath as he took her maidenhead. She spurned him later. Then your ‘white knight’ beat Laenor’s fop lover’s face in wrath at her wedding.”

Your legs and hands began to grow numb from sheer panic. You cried, “No, you are lying! Why would you say such dreadful things?” Shakes began, as tears leaked down your red cheeks. The prince noticed your state and sighed, “No one knows if he truly did. 'Tis not strange he became mother’s sworn sword after one night hm?”

Your vision swam. No, no, no— you couldn’t believe that. Ser Erryk rode up next to you, beckoning you to open your mouth. He yanked you onto his horse, chiding Aegon, “Shut your mouth about that, you know how she gets. I have to return all the way to the keep!”

The prince shrugged, offering a weak apology, face a rude smirk.

Ser Erryk sighed, “He’s a prick. Talk to your mother about Ser Criston. Back to the keep we go, just relax.” You felt like your chest had compressed into a tiny box, shaking and panting. It couldn’t be true. You would speak to your mother immediately. The tincture began to soften your muscles, eyes lolling as you slumped onto the Cargyll twin. Erryk murmured, “Can’t wait for this shite show with the marcher.”

You were still in a hazy lull, the movement of the horse and Ser Erryk’s familiar lilt leaving you in a poppy-laden stupor. He’d ridden into the courtyard, carrying your limp frame into the castle, barking at a squire to take his horse. You mumbled, “Mother, need her.”

“I know, princess.”

Ser Criston’s voice made your poppy laden eyes flick upwards. The knight demanded, “What the hell is this? Did you dose her with the entire phial? Where’s Prince Aegon? Give her to me.”

Ser Erryk bit back, “She asked for the Queen, Ser Criston. Not you.”

You nodded softly, Ser Criston’s brows pinching together, his lips thinning in anger. He snapped, “I’ll take her to the Queen, give me the princess. Seems you can’t follow the maester’s directions, Ser Erryk.”

“No. Trust me when I say this Cole, Aegon brought this on. He was telling your ‘blossom’ all about,” the man whispered something to the marcher. Criston’s face paled, a stricken look over his features.

The door opened without further protest, Ser Erryk laying you upon the plush settee, curtly nodding. He exchanged words with the Queen. Criston remained outside the door, dark gaze peering from afar. Your mother’s wide eyes and familiar green dress hovered in your vision. She stroked your hair and sighed, “Dear girl, what did Aegon say?”

Your sluggish hand gripped her own, glazed eyes meeting brown. You whimpered “Tell me he was lying. Just tell me Aegon was lying about him.”

Alicent’s lips pursed, turning to gaze at the lingering Cole. She ordered, “Ser Criston, please shut the door.” Even through the medicinal haze, the man looked downright fearful. The door shut with a soft click. Your mother’s attention was back on you, kissing your forehead.

“About who? Take your time.”

You moaned in anguish, “Ser Criston. He broke his oath to be with her?,” you sobbed, “He lies, he can’t, mother please!”

Alicent’s eyes flicked to the door once more. She bundled your frame into her arms, lifting your limp body up. Her soothing voice murmured, “Ser Criston is a good man. He loves us dearly. He is sworn and would die for us, my dear.”

You wept, “Tell me the truth.”

“He had a moment of weakness. Ser Criston was merely a few years older than I and Rhaenyra. She manipulated his good heart and bewitched him. That is all. He did not break his oath.”

You stared at your mother, unsure if she was lying while the pristine image of Criston darkened. Was it hurt? Jealousy? Childish affection gone wrong? There was nothing to do but softly weep in your mother’s arms before sleep took you. Supper was provided when you awoke, only Alicent caring for you.

She never lied to you before. Your mother cherished you too much to lie.

Right?

You faced Ser Criston again. The ache in your chest throbbed— but you would give him grace. He was devoted and good to you. His worried look made the apprehension die down. The knight grabbed your shoulders, eyes piercing as he frantically spoke, “Blossom, my princess, please. I have been distraught for days. What can I do?”

You stared at him, mind conjuring a response, feeling like a bratty child overreacting. His leather gloves squeezed again to draw your attention. It took everything in your weak heart not to babble and weep. This man was sworn to chastity and the Faith, yet you craved him like nothing else.

“Aegon just shocked me. This is a lot to process. I-I didn’t know anything about that, oh, ordeal.”

He seemed to sag, guilt wracking his handsome features. Ser Criston pulled your small form inward, chin atop your head. He murmured, “It is a stain that shall never be washed. Your mother saved me. I grew stronger from the failure. It pains me more now that you have learned the truth after so long. I should have let you know.”

You nodded against the steel plate of his chest, resigned.

You let him hold you— unsure of your intense feelings. The Red Keep was a web spun of lies. Even Ser Criston was caught in the horrid trap. You would remain to trust him, his affair with Rhaenyra was before you were even a thought. Still, your gut churned with uncertainty.

Criston murmured, "I shall never fail you again, sweet blossom."

You had distanced yourself from Ser Cole, protecting your own heart selfishly. He was upset and had been striving to gain your once devoted affection. It wasn’t hard to avoid him as war came in on Dragonback. They plotted and planned, too busy for Helaena to mourn. Aegon was raging at all times. You remained in your rooms, nervously awaiting Syrax or Caraxes to show on the horizon. Dracarys. Dracarys, the voices sang in your head.

They were always in the Council Chambers.

You’d been in your room, feeling madness creep at the edges of your mind. Shadows in the corners, fire on the horizon. A knight stood guard outside day and night, sometimes your mother would come sup with you. All she could do was tiredly ramble and apologize. You held her softly one night as she cried, how alone and useless she felt. You could empathize with that. At least in your room, you were safe from those fits. Sometimes.

Then your grandfather left. Criston was now Lord Commander and Hand of the King. A small ceremony was held in the throne room, Aegon strutting around like a peacock. You knew he was as scared as the rest of the Keep. Alicent sighed to you, “My darling, stay strong, you must.”

The man you had grown up with, the fancy of your girlhood, looked frightening with his chain of gold hands, lips curled up in pleasure. His eyes flicked toward you, entrancing. The newly appointed hand smiled with pride. You looked down and away, shaking hands clasped together. There was no reason for tears about this. Yet, the titles muddled and twisted your preferred concept of the loyal white knight.

War had truly begun with armies on the move around the realm. Criston, Aegon, and Aemond set off to Lord Staunton at Rook's Rest.

After the incident at Rook’s Rest, Criston returned colder, Aemond with the crown, and Aegon charred half to death. The now powerful marcher was paired with his protege, they could conquer and perhaps win this war. You were frightfully alone again, Alicent moved into Aegon’s chambers. Nothing new you supposed, yet your heart hurt.

About a week after the return, you were summoned to the Hand’s Tower. Criston sat at the desk, war plans drawn up. His hair was shorn, a beard grown in. The soft part of you ached at his bruised and nicked face. You awkwardly curtsied and murmured, “Lord Hand.”

“Don’t call me that, Ser Criston is fine,” he said, a hint of aggravation to his hoarse voice.

“Sorry, Ser Criston,” you apologized. He seemed like a different person sitting where your grandsire once sat. He beckoned you over, closer and closer until you were at the edge of the desk. He looked tired, sad, and beleaguered by his position. You murmured, “You requested me Ser?”

He sighed, leaning back in the supple leather chair. Criston’s eyes were achingly wet as he stated, “Do you still despise me so? All I think about is you, your safety, and how I can keep my blossom alive and well. After Rook's Rest, I began to remember my priorities."

You whimpered softly, the months of being alone and overlooked had taken their toll. You missed him dearly. Taking a few sighs, mouth quivering, you whispered. Whispered only so you may not sob. Your dress was bunched up by your distraught hands. Inwardly, you cursed yourself for being weak.

"I have been so…isolated. I don’t leave my room and all I can do is stare at the window and...and and hope I don’t!”

You clamped your jaw shut as your voice grew higher with emotions. Hot tears ran down your cheeks now— brought on by the outburst. Criston made a soft noise, pleading, “Blossom, come here. To me. You know how I hate to see your tears.”

It embarrassed you how fast you climbed into his lap and wrapped your arms around his shiny armor. The man cooed, cradling your frame and nuzzling your hair. His hands gripped into your curled legs— you didn’t care. It felt so good to be with him.

“There we are, poor princess, why are you crying blossom?”

His dark brows were pinched in concern, gaze quizzical in nature. You refrained from staring at his lips. One of his warm hands pressed into your back, rubbing up and down. You focused on that, tucking your face against the warm crook of his neck.

“Take your time princess, I’ve got you. Too sweet for this dreadful world.”

Ser Criston’s soothing words and hands, his gentle tone could almost lull you to sleep. It felt like an hour had passed, soaking in the moment. You blinked a bit, feeling syrupy sweet in his arms. He asked “Blossom, are you feeling better?” A soft little jerk of your head was the response before you pulled back to look at him.

“I feel better, thank you Ser Criston. I grow fearful,” you frowned at your words, “More fearful than usual.”

He cocked his head, seeming to mull over the words. The man sighed, “I haven’t done a good job of prioritizing your protection. These are arduous times.” Criston thumbed your cheek, sliding down to tilt your chin up. He murmured, “Tell me the truth. I feel a piece of me has returned. You cannot spurn me again, I need you my blossom, more than anything to keep going.”

His agonized eyes and the tiniest little warble at the end of his sentence melted your fears. This was Ser Criston— he’d done right by you, only second to your mother. Even then, he knew you in a way others didn’t. Something behind the mad little princess who cried at feasts. Criston saw qualities none seemed to perceive.

Making eye contact you admitted, “I missed you too. I- I had a hard time coming to terms. I was sickened with envy, picturing that…my sister, having Ser Cole’s heart,” you placed a hand over the white cloak on his shoulder, “I know it was a mistake now. I grew up thinking you were, Gods, the knight out of tales. Gallant and true. It was swept out from under me and I behaved as a child. You're only human.”

Criston’s jaw gritted, frustration crossing his features. He hissed, “If I could take my honor back from that viper I would. But I chose to be fooled, a young idiot. I know what it feels like to be truly loved now. Unconditionally.”

He licked his lips, “Knowing that I hurt you, hurt me. I prayed and prayed. I don’t know if I can be that knight for you, my dear blossom. But I can be the knight that gives his life for you, his heart and soul. You were merely hurt, I can understand why. But the Seven answered my prayers," he beamed, "You’re still here, with me. As it should be.”

Unconditional. He wasn’t wrong. You’d love Criston even if his cloak was stained black. He loved you. Only you. Prayed for you. Your heart swelled, pumping with excitement. At least that's what it seemed he said.

“Oh, Ser Criston, I, I love you.”

His face morphed into a pleasant look, eyes alight with happiness. You moved to straddle him, pressing yourself closer, your cheek pressed to Criston’s dark stubbled one. The knight rumbled, “I love you, innocent love for my little bud, now a blossoming young woman. You’re mine, to cherish and to love. Understand that. Just us.”

He squeezed your waist as you sighed, “Yes, yes Ser Cole, I am yours.”

“My perfect little Princess, the Gods are smiling upon us.”

You nodded along, smiling helplessly, more tears welling as your lips pecked his cheek. Criston turned his head to gently capture your lips, a chaste little peck. You shivered in his embrace, smiling as your noses nuzzled. He was chivalrous was he not?

Soon after you had spoken your feelings for Ser Criston, he wanted you moved into the Hand’s quarters. Said it was safer and you wouldn’t have to stare at the dreaded horizon that brought many a nightmare and fumbling for your tinctures.

It was done quickly, your garments and belongings now intertwined into the man’s quarters. He had the Lord Commander’s room too and pledged to sleep there for your comfort and honor. The knight was sweet and kind, letting you sit upon his lap as he wrote letters, amended decrees, and even kept you there when Aemond arrived to discuss battle.

Your brother looked shocked at your presence, a thin brow arching. He huffed, “Sister, I believe it would be best if you left us to the battle plans.” You nodded, the ingrained behaviors to follow orders hadn’t dissipated. Criston held you tight on his lap, remarking “She’s family. You think your sister to be a turn cloak?”

Aemond grimaced and sat down, his hair swinging as he glared. The crown of the Conqueror laid upon his brow. The crown that belonged to ailing Aegon. Criston poured some wine and handed it to the stiffened Prince Regent, opening the discussion.

You merely sat back and listened, your knight occasionally asking for your opinion. “I don’t know why you would not seek the high ground there,” you offered while pointing to the Westermen’s location. Jason Lannister would be slaughtered. You read up on historical battles now and then.

Aemond’s scoff and Criston’s noise of contemplation shut you up. You knew you were here to please your knight. Make him feel comfortable and less alone. You padded off toward the bed as they talked into the night, ignoring Aemond’s sharp questioning.

A kiss on your lips awoke you, blinking the sleep out of your eyes. The marcher seemed irritated and sleepy, now clad in a white shirt and thin breeches. He sat upon the downy bed to pet your hair, muttering, “Ignore your brother. He thinks he is the king right now, is all. But the hand pulls the strings.”

You shrugged, “He sees me as a distraction I suppose.”

Criston nodded, dark eyes rolling as he gruffed, “You are my motivation, blossom. He will learn to embrace your presence. Now, I have had a long day. I wish to hold you,” his face grew soft, “Is that okay with you dearest? Say no and I shall leave.”

Scooting over you pulled back the warm blankets, Criston crawling in with a sigh. You cuddled into his frame, the marcher flipping you around so he could press the length of his body to your own. He sighed in your ear, “Much better. Soft and sweet. Thank you for trusting me." He placed his chin on your shoulder, humming in contentment, tanned arm wrapped around your stomach.

The voices of the past screamed at you. So be it.

Criston now laid by your side every night, gentle and kind. He'd awaken you with a kiss and that saccharine smile. You fell deeper and deeper in love. His touches grew more frequent, keeping you by his side around the keep. Any snide comment was met with an equally acrid reply.

You'd been invited to sit in at council meets. Your mother seemed surprised, rushing to you, hands clamping down on your arms. She whispered, "What are you doing here? You should not listen to this, it shall give you a fit." You indicated the satchel at your hip and replied, "Ser Criston said I could come along, since I am able of mind and body I should have a say. He has stuck up for a Princess when everyone else has discarded me."

You did not mean to come off as harsh. Ser Criston's affections had bolstered you as of late. The dowager queen's eyebrows raised as her lips turned into a pursed frown. Alicent bit out, "Are you his kept woman now? I raised you better than this." Your mother drew closer to hiss, “Ser Cole loves you. Ser Cole is overstepping his boundaries as the Lord Commander. Lord Hand Criston sees you as his pretty little pet. Do take heed, princess.”

You frowned, chest tight with hurt, childishly scoffing, “Ser Criston cares for me. You’d rather sit and plot than visit your daughter? I’d like to visit Helaena with you, mayhaps Aegon. Don’t lecture me, your grace.”

Aemond called the council, breaking up the heated moment between you and the green queen. You took a seat to the side, watching and listening raptly. Alicent’s eyes flickered between you and Ser Criston, displeasure upon her pursed lips. He eyed her back, furrowing his brows. They had known each other so long the pair could speak without saying a word. Aemond and Lord Lannister prattled on. Worry began to pool in your belly, a shaky hand shifting to the pouch on your waist for comfort.

You could glean the wracked state of the Realm from the terse meeting. Daemon was at Harrenhal and men were gathering. The Hightower host led by a relative and Daeron approached from the south. Cregan Stark’s winter wolves were coming with a cold vengeance and desire to die in glory, grizzled grey beards that they were. You swallowed, mind a bit scattered pulling the pieces together. A crazed Greyjoy was on the loose and the Triarch had been called in. All-out war.

The meeting was adjourned. Aemond would leave soon for Harrenhal. Criston would join him later, much to your fear. Your white knight immediately came to your side, holding your elbow tenderly, “I must have…some words…with her grace. I’ll see you back in the tower?” You nodded, eyes panning toward Aemond getting an earful from your mother. Nerves began to prick— you kissed Ser Cole’s cheek and nodded. He smiled softly, gloved hand caressing your cheek as he murmured, “Sweet girl, relax, it will be fine.”

You may have dropped some of the diluted milk into your wine, hands shaky. You were going mad waiting, waiting, waiting. Mind-spinning rationalizations appeared to ease the rising panic. Your mother had no say anymore, it was Aemond and Criston in charge. If Aegon wasn’t bedridden he likely would not care. Ser Criston would not leave you, he loved you, yes.

The door swung open, clattering against some furniture, startling you upon the settee. Criston was pissed, anyone could see as much as the vetted knight masked his emotions. His eyes were dark, jaw clenched and his teeth audibly ground. He stopped in his tracks, running a hand through shorn hair. You warbled “Criston?”

His furrowed brow and wide eyes turned to you, sighing and stalking forward. The knight dropped to his knees, hands cradling your cheeks. Criston fumed, urgency to his tone, "You’re mine. You shall do as you please. I shall do as I please. I have the right, I'll leave my position as Kingsguard if the oaths are displeasing, you understand sweet girl? I need you to understand you’re my Princess.”

You held his gauntlets to nod, eyes wide upon his visage.

“Say it for me. Say it so I know it to be true. Now.”

Your eyes glossed over with tears. He was in quite the mood. Criston's dark eyes were wet, and desperation laced his roughed voice. Your hands curled around that cold chain of hands, lips frantically moving, “I am yours. Your princess. Nothing shall change that. I swear it on the Seven. I swear it on my heart.”

“I godsdamn love you blossom,” he growled, taking your lips roughly. Criston pressed himself into you, dominating the kiss. His hands moved down to your rear, jerking your hips flush to his own. You cried out, the dark-haired man swallowing the noise, tongue lapping against yours. His lips were insistent, and needy, leaving you breathless. You'd never felt Ser Criston so rough with you, it was intoxicating.

Shivering at his gruff words, you could not help from sliding your arms around his plated neck to moan. Criston pulled back, murmuring, “No one shall keep you from me, I’ll fucking kill them. I may do as I please now.” His lips trailed down your cheek, jaw, to your neck. All you could do was whine as he sucked and nipped little marks, big hands massaging the flesh of your ass. He nosed further down to your décolletage; greedy hands pausing at the neckline.

Lust-blown eyes met your own. You nodded, panting, “Please. Please. Take me as you wish.” His eyes scrunched shut, mouth swollen and wet as those covetous hands of his jerked your dress down, carelessly tearing the silky fabric. You yelped, never having been exposed like this, nerves sparking like wildfire. Criston’s lashes fluttered as he groaned throatily.

“Oh- fucking seven hells, precious girl,” he almost whined, nuzzling into your breasts. You seized up, unused to the carnal touches. Criston yanked off his black gloves to grab handfuls of the tender flesh, still on his knees for you. That seemed to abate the ever-looming presence of your neuroticism. He was submitting, lavishing lush kisses on your fiery skin.

You tightened your legs around his armored waist and cried out when calloused thumbs began to tenderly circle around your budded nipples. He watched your face, lips curled and eyes ever hungry. Criston murmured, “Sweetling, so responsive. Never had your pretty teats touched. Good, good, only me.”

You nodded in haphazard jerks, Criston pulling at one nipple and playing around with your other breast, big hand massaging. His kissing grew closer to the darker skin, lips closing around the bud. You mewled and squirmed, head thrown back to moan. He hummed around your nipple, flicking his tongue across the peak. Criston grew rougher, nipping before pulling off with a lurid pop.

The knight growled, moving onto your other breast. A shiver wracked your frame, your swollen peaks exposed to the chilly air felt like a white-hot line of arousal bolting down between your legs— throbbing and uncomfortably slick. You babbled, “Ser, Criston, Criston, wha-what?”

He chucked darkly, suckling a mark on your sternum. Criston hummed “You like that? Little princess needy for her knight?”

“Love, oh, love it, thank you,” you simpered.

He rasped, nose nuzzling into yours, “Of course…I take care of my blossom don’t I? Sweeter than sin.” His hands placed themselves atop your smaller ones, brown eyes begging. Criston breathed "Blossom- wanna feel you, help me out of this dreadful cage?" Once again mute- you began to unbuckle straps and buttons, exposing more and more skin.

"So good to me. Divine, ah, don't know how I was blessed with an angel."

You helped him out of the chest plate, leaving Criston to undo his white and gray gambeson. You were carefully putting the pieces on his armor stand, the man humming your name. Looking back, Criston smiled softly, his scarred and tanned torso exposed. He beckoned you over, cocking his head in surprise when you dropped to your knees.

“What are you doing, your grace?” Criston's lips curled up in amusement, dark orbs searching your serious expression.

Holding those inky eyes, you helped his boots and thick socks off. Criston threw his padded tunic to the side, cheeks growing flushed. He softly murmured, “Answer me, a Princess should not be on her knees like this.” His hand cupped your cheek, a smirk mirroring your own. You quipped, “Is it bad to be on my knees for you? I am merely serving an important man to the realm.”

You watched his face darken, eyes catching a glint to them. He swallowed, hand on your face tightening. Criston rasped “Is that it? Just merely service? Dirtying your knees like a woman of the night. Does my blossom want to be bad? Behave wanton and licentious so? Forget your maiden's day vow, hm?"

His words made your face grow warm. It was as if he was speaking your fantasies aloud. For once to not be the strange princess— nervous, wrong shade of hair, and overtly pious. No, you wanted to let go. No more being held back by others and your own swirling fears. Ser Cole soothed those aches. You wanted the keep to whisper more about how the littlest one was openly Ser Cole’s pretty blossom, driven from her mother’s teat at last.

“I- I want to make you feel good,” you murmured with blotchy cheeks. It was not necessarily a lie, but if you began to ramble about the lustful feelings you feared you may not stop or disgust the man. That simply couldn’t happen. Not after how far you have come with him.

“You lie to me blossom,” he teased, “I know exactly what you want. What you crave. To think the old king thought you to be a Septa. C’mere then, no more games”

You watched him unlace his light breeches, exposing his dark curls and full prick. A moan slipped from your lips at the sight, lust pounding your body in waves. The knight's cock was heavy and flush, the dark tip weeping. You squeezed your thighs in excitement, licking your lips. Criston’s tan hand jerked at the taught flesh, rumbling, “Needy little blossom.” It was almost funny how he stated it like a simple fact, yet you were on the edge of combustion.

“Y-yes! Please, want it so, want to be your bad girl, the bad princess…please,” you grew shy again after blurting out, “I- in m-my mouth Ser.”

Criston’s expression changed from playful to predatory, dark eyes narrowing a bit. He rasped, “Mhm, filthy little thing. I shouldn’t encourage this behavior. Especially as your protector.” As you shuffled forward to grab the thick flesh he stopped your hand, his amusement facing heady desire. You sulked, “Wanna learn so I can please you Ser.”

Ser Cole seemed content, enough to lean back on one arm, eyes roving to your tits and wide eyes. His other hand stroked himself one more time before shoving two fingers to your lips. You opened dutifully for the intrusion, eyes rolling back in bliss.

Criston’s princess was a dream, a godsdamn dream. He pressed the pads of his fingers down on her tongue, watching her shiver and whine. He soothed, “Settle now, I’ll teach you how. But I need my sweet girl to settle down. Focus on my fingers. Nothing else.” She nodded, wet lashes upon her cheeks now. Her hands were neatly placed in her lap.

He took the still moment to reflect, idly rubbing his cock. She was well trained. Helaena was the same in her mannerisms unless she grew distracted. Before Criston even remotely began to have romantic feelings, his blossom had always held him ensnared. She was horribly timid and clutched to Alicent’s skirts, then began to seek him for comfort. The white knight earned her trust with a trinket he bought in town. A small Yitish jade dragon— to place upon her bedside table. She still had it there, pristine and well-kept.

Criston was not sure when his protective nature slid into desire. It began with jealousy, perhaps around her name-day celebration and resulting tourney. Alicent and Otto were looking for a mate. Something twisted deep within his chest. Criston did not want the sweet thing to leave the castle. Get wedded and bedded by some callous lord or idiot heir.

Her smile after he routed the competition brought great happiness to his heart. That twisted thing in his chest swelled with a possessive pride that soared past his normal feelings for Alicent's children. He hated the feast. The princess was shyly speaking to a young Redwyne lad. The Arbor was too far away for his liking. Yet nothing panned out. He couldn't beat a boy for being kind.

Criston strapped his back bloody and raw for a fortnight as penitance. He could not imagine being a snake slithering around waiting for her. He already knew she held affection for him. Thus prayer would work, and he would be a good, pious protector. Alicent made a small comment and he withdrew from being too close. Those woes seemed to be gone by the time she turned eight and ten— leading to now.

The sweet, blossomed woman was dozing around his fingers now. Criston purred, "Such a good princess, just likes to be bad. That's okay, you deserve it, so kind for helping me out." She softly whimpered and drooled as he pressed upon her tongue.

"Gorgeous, being good for me."

She whined in response, pretty lashes fluttering. Criston almost lost her affection once. That dreadful day with Aegon and Ser Arryk telling him to stand down. He could have wrung his neck. But fear overcame the anger. The knight knew she mustn't gain access to that horrid secret. Criston prayed and prayed and prayed, mutilated, and prayed that Alicent would keep the truth hidden. Something in the uncomfortable hairshirt worked, his blossom forgave him, and the Gods had granted him a boon. Certainly, she was meant to be his then?

Criston blinked out of his reverie, asking gently "Blossom, are you with me?"

She looked like she was under her poppy tinctures. He smiled a bit, the princess blissed out from Criston alone. Eventually, she nodded, trying to speak around his digits. He sighed, "I think I've changed my mind, why don't you come sit in my lap? Must be chilly down there."

The blossom whined when Criston pulled his fingers out, mumbling, "Yes Ser, yes, whatever you need." She clambered onto foal-like legs, Criston guiding her to the plush leather chair. The man easily pulled her frame atop him. He hissed lowly as her ass pressed against his aching cock. Fighting the feeling, he nuzzled into reddish waves, lips quirked up. The knight whispered "You've always been such a pious one. Did you ever touch yourself?"

She shook her head slowly, body melting into Criston's. Her hands wrapped around his bigger wrists. The princess whimpered, "No, never, I would not dare. It is sinful," she paused for a long time, "Right?" Cole chuckled, one hand of his rubbing soothing circles onto her side. He teased "We're together now, I prayed for it, the Seven smile upon us. How can it be sinful if you're touching yourself for me? The Seven-Pointed Star says you may indulge with a paired soul."

He grabbed her chin to emphasize his point, her innocent eyes making his cock hurt "I would say we are paired souls. Do you agree?"

"You know it to be true, you always have," she stated.

"Good. I'll touch you instead, so you may remember this and feel better when I am away."

He bunched her woolen dress, exposing her plush thighs and untainted maidenhead. Criston inhaled sharply, fingers digging into the wrinkled cloth. He could see her slick and aroused, flesh darkened with need. The man gritted his jaw in restraint, he would treat the sweet girl like the delicate blossom she was. Her eyes were still upon him, dark and wet, skin flushed. Ser Cole could feel the tacky way his cock was plastering itself to her ass with his prick leaking the way it was.

"Does it please you?" came her tiny warble.

Criston groaned, "Yes, yes, more than anything yes...Hold your dress up now. I...need to take care of you sweet blossom. My needs can wait." She sniffled and clung to her raised layers of dress, head shyly tucked away as she panted. The Hand gripped the giving flesh of her thigh, coaxing her to open wider with a gentle coo. The redhead shivered in response, breasts bouncing as her breath hitched.

"Have you been this wet for me before?"

"Mhmmm," she whined, hiding her embarrassed look.

"Need you to watch blossom, or you won't know how," he stated. He could feel her gaze watch as Criston's spit-slick fingers cautiously slid across her opening. She mewled in response, gasping, "Ser!" He hushed and laid tiny lush kisses, easing her heightening fears. "Slow and gentle, breathe for your knight," came his rasp.

"Ser, Cris- oh heavens, oh what is that? S-so good!"

He laughed, "A special place the mother gave you, the maiden bestowed for naughty princesses like you to rut on and make a mess. You're making quite a mess, all wet and needy." She moved back against his swollen prick, Criston's eyes fluttering. His princess babbled, "'S for you, m'not, not, naugh-ty." He assured her she wasn't, now narrating his way down to her entrance.

"Your sweet pearl is fun to play with, but most green boys don't know how to work a woman's body. I'll let you take your own pleasure too."

The tips of his fingers slid into her wet warmth, tight and silky smooth. They both gasped into the room's silence, Criston groaning in contentment. He slid further in, minding her reactions. Maiden above she was tight. She planted her feet on the leather chair, her dress falling back. Criston was taken aback as she breathed, "Want to touch you, not this silly dress."

"Seven Hells, you'll send me to an early grave..."

Her hands held onto his forearms as Criston began to delve into her cunt, easing her in with rhythmic slides. She was growing restless, cute tits bouncing with every heave of breath. He would surprise her with the sweet spot. The marcher curled his fingers upwards, dragging against the soft ridged area.

He smirked as her chest hitched once more, a small confused noise leaving petal lips. Criston playfully crooked his fingers back and forth as watched her whine and squirm raptly. The man whispered against her ear, “Feel the heel of my palm? Go on, use your hips.”

Criston’s smirk broke into a smile as she rode his hand and fingers, shyly at first. The princess’ hips twitched tentatively, her slick cunt moving against Criston with ease. He nuzzled her neck, pressing more little kisses as she sped up, fingers digging into his arms. The knight found himself mumbling between kisses, “Good…so good..thassit’.”

His blossom was rutting hard now, huffing between her broken noises. Cole could feel her tighten around him, even one of her pretty tits under his hand was budded and tight. His dark gaze noticed her thighs were quivering as she grew frantic with pleasure, crying Criston’s name. It made his heart swell. Yet the deep-seated craving wasn't met by the hand of the king.

“Mine. Say you're mine. Before you come. Now.”

Her hips stuttered and ground down hard, the princess throwing her head back onto Criston's shoulder as she cried, "I am yours, only yours, forever yours Ser Cole! Hnghhh- oh my gods! Please!" She looked up toward him, begging softly, riding his hand, her ass rubbing Criston's prick to near completion. He demanded her release, gasping as the innocent m thing squealed and gushed all over his hand, grabbing onto him for dear life.

She sobbed in pleasure, sending a gut punch to Criston's own throbbing balls. He gripped down on her with his free hands, squeezing her soft hips as he rutted with heavy grunts, blinking and gasping for breath as he emptied all over her clothed backside. Criston moaned her name, pressing his sweating forehead to her shoulder, inhaling their mixed scent. He rasped, "Lovely blossom, just lovely, I'm so proud of you my love."

She stared with swollen eyes, the prettiest smile upon her lips as she said, "I love you Criston."

He would take that memory to battle with him. Else the man feared he'd pick her up and abscond. He was too deep, had too many scores to settle, dying with a name worth living for. Yet. Yet, she was always there, waiting for him. Ser Criston shut his ever-spinning mind down for the evening.

Criston was leaving for the Riverlands in the morn. He'd kept you by his side for the last week or so. It did not matter where— the throne room, the barracks, his tower, even the council again. People stared and remained silent. Alicent had refused to speak to either of you and Aemond looked at you like a common whore. It did not matter when you had your love.

Ser Cole was insatiable in the bedroom since he brought you to a peak with his fingers. He'd taught you how to suck him, rub him, how to get off on his thighs or tight stomach. Every night you'd lain in a mess of sweat, tears, and come. Nothing was finer than taking a sensual bath afterward, soaping each other up between slow kisses. You were in love, truly, but at such an awful time. You prayed the gods would give him back to you. You feared what would come of you when he left. The thought of death was too much.

Your white knight was in a forlorn mood tonight, holding you tightly. You rubbed his thigh and consoled Criston, "I have a dragon you know. I shall be fine." He grimaced and rolled over to face you, handsome face twisted with emotions. The marcher asked, "I hope you think me to be good and kind even after this all. Don't let me die in vain."

"Don't talk like that," you chastised, frowning.

He grumbled further, sinking into his foul mindset, barbs upon his tongue. A tense argument broke out between you two. Criston ended it by shoving himself atop you and bursting into tears. He gritted, "I am, fucking hell, reconsidering everything now. I must go on. I must face my reality, we both should. But it...hurts! It fucking hurts! You have to grow up now! I've left you in your pretty gilded cage for too long!"

You blinked in shock, his tears hitting your face. Criston seemed to deflate, apologizing and weeping, "M'just scared, I can't leave you alone, I can't. You're all I need. Oh gods forgive me." This was the side of the marcher you knew few had seen. Vulnerable, real, human. Criston huffed into your neck, his hands digging into your waist.

“You’re not wrong-“

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Whether you did or not, ‘tis true Criston. We must face our fates whether that be now or later. I must prepare my own dragon to defend the city. You must go lead our troops. I can’t sit and weep the rest of my life.”

He gazed with wet eyes, red rimmed and dark lashes clumped. You caressed your knight’s cheek, murmuring, “I want you to have me before you leave. The gods never promise anything.”

A soft noise fell from his swollen lips, Criston readjusting himself between your lax thighs. You thought idly about giving him your tincture with the way the man was shaking. He rasped, “They don’t, not the Stranger. I want to make this…good.” Criston’s lips trembled as he pressed them tenderly to your own, balancing himself on an elbow. You wrapped your arms around his wide shoulders, opening up.

The kiss spoke of the utter fear in the air. Long drags of tongue and sucking of lips, no urgency in the sacred moment. You arched into him, suckling gently on the tip of Criston’s hot tongue. He groaned, hips twitching against yours as he tilted his face some, lips dancing yet insistent. You grabbed some of his dark hair, crying out when he nipped your lip. The man ate up your noises, hands greedily roving your body.

“I love you,” he spoke, voice wobbly.

His lips moved down your jaw and neck, sucking at that sensitive place below your ear.

Criston’s cock had grown flush and heavy between your legs, twitching with need. Your own desire began to drip with slick and pounded with blood flow. You rocked against him with a whine, Criston’s eyes flicked to you with a sly smile as he ground back. You threw your head back in pleasure as he massaged and lapped at your tits, sucking at your tits with desperate noises.

Once again you yanked at his hair and Criston moaned, pausing to take your lips again. He murmured, urgency to his voice, “I’m going to stretch you out blossom, as best as I can, wan’ you to feel good. Feel so good.” The urge to cry bubbled up but you nodded along anyways, spreading your legs like the good princess. His good princess.

Criston hitched one of your thighs up around his waist, the other he held out. The man inhaled at your tender mound, eyes black as the coal on his sigil. You shivered involuntarily at the feeling of those sculpted lips sealing around your pearl, sucking ever so softly. One of your hands slapped down on the bed as you whimpered, thighs tightening. His calloused fingers swiped at your slick cunt, diving in two off the get.

It wasn’t painful— you’d gotten quite used to two fingers from your lover. But he pumped a couple of times before stretching his fingers outwards. That was a new feeling, a bothered whine elicited from the sensation. Criston flicked his tongue a couple of times and that was forgotten as hot licks of pleasure bundled up in your belly.

His ring finger slid in, a new feeling, a bit of a pinch. Criston rambled, “Breathe love, breathe, doing so good for me. The most obedient princess, wanton for her night. I wish you could see how much of a mess you’re already making.” He smiled at your keen of arousal and embarrassment, three fingers stretching your tight walls. He dove back down to flick, suck, lick at your pearl— relentlessly so.

Your hand not trying to rip the bed gripped his short hair, thighs clamping down now. He was abusing your other gifted place, curling his fingers as if to bring your release forward. Wet noises of his hungry mouth and ravenous fingers filled the room. He grunted, hips jerking to a standstill when you whimpered, “So close, closeclose, I love you, oh stars Criston.”

He didn’t cease his movements as you felt goosebumps arise across your hot skin, sweat beginning to bead up as pleasure rose and rose. Your lower stomach was a tight cord, ready to come undone, winding tighter and tighter. All you could do was mewl and squirm, enslaved to his ministrations. You gaped, breath going staccato, whining through your nose.

The coil snapped.

You fell apart in a flurry of shaking limbs, mouth wide open yet not a peep coming out. It was intense and fiery, the flames of carnal delights searing you. Criston moaned softly, “Ah- gorgeous blossom, made a mess all over.” He licked his swollen lips and wet chin, cock beaded and bobbing between trim thighs. You watched in a haze, feelings the subtle burn from his beard brushing your delicate skin. It felt delightful to you— the dull throb.

“Want you, please, want your,” you paused, “Want us to be truly together.”

Criston nodded, hand on his prick, precariously sliding atop your limp form. He slicked up the head of his already weeping member with your own essence, eyes rolling back at the sensation. Criston nuzzled against your face, promising to make you feel good. He seemed to grow more emotional, taking his time with sliding the blunt head around your entrance.

Carefully holding wide shoulders you tried to relax your nervous body, going limp when his cock breached your tight cunt. Criston shivered, pushing forward a bit more, gasping out. “Princess, are you okay? Hm?” Worried brown eyes flitted around as he met your eyes. You nodded in a slow jerk, it was uncomfortable but more foreign than anything. The man pushed in further, your inner walls stretching to accommodate his thick cock.

There it was, a pinch inside. Your chest went a little tight, nails digging into his shoulders. Criston’s mouth opened but you surged forward to kiss him, thighs and heels urging the man on. You’d never wanted anything else but this, right now. He moaned deep and long, holding himself from going too far. Inch by inch he settled, the pair of you panting into eachother’s mouth. A pregnant pause settled over your connected forms, his eyes upon yours. Brown and plum.

You didn’t have to say it again— it was felt.

Criston gingerly pulled out on a soft whine, pushing himself back into your cunt. Then again. Over and over until he built up a pace, mouth hanging open as he groaned helplessly. The friction was delicious, the pain blending away to fall into deep pleasure. Your nails clawed at his back some, keening your lovers name as he began to fuck you in earnest.

You felt so fucking full and satisfied, Criston’s gorgeous moans urging you to fuck back onto his fat prick. Useless babbles left your lips, “Full, oh, oh you feel s’good.” Criston whined wetly against your neck, feverishly kissing and sucking as he grabbed your hips to get a better angle. His beard rubbed your neck and collarbones raw— another reminder of his love. The marcher’s chest heaved as his hips and balls hit your skin, leaving nothing back as he gave in.

“Godsdammit, hah, sweet blossom, taking your knight so well. Made for me, swear- swear it.”

“All for you.”

He bit down on your neck, thrusting at a breakneck pace. The dark haired knight couldn’t quit from rambling or moaning, eyes scrunched shut as your tight pussy milked him. You squirmed under his heavier body, Criston’s chest hair rubbing against the delicate skin of your breasts, your nipples aching from the friction. Your nails drew deeper scores into his back. Tears pricked at your eyes.

Once again you were at the precipice.

Why did this feel like the last?

Criston whined as his hips stuttered, cock twitching deep inside. His tactful thrusts were mismatched and sloppy, the firmness of his voice chipped away to quavering emotional whimpering. You tightened further, your cunt spasming in waves as you felt the familiar throes burn deep inside. So good it hurt. The pair of you came undone together, sounding like a pair of young lovers squealing and crying. Thick ropes of his cum painted your insides, another shiver crossing your frame.

Would it be so bad if his seed took?

Criston fell down to his side, cock slipping out in a mess of spend and blood. He grabbed onto you tightly, tears slipping down your cheek. Your own tears mingled with his, you absently petting dark hair. He laughed blithely, “I shall bear your wounds proudly, hmph.” You pointed out your neck, agreeing to do the same in case you were needed.

“I’ll pray for you my love.”

“And I you.”

Many winters and summers later, barflies would say you could catch glimpses of a ragged white knight asking where his blossom was, down on some road south of the Gods Eye. The ghost would never know she perished in dragonflame, best that he didn’t, if anyone even knew what the apparition was talking about.

[star2fishmeg]

Hiiiiiiii can I request smut #64 with Quinn pleaseeeee

Thank you for requesting <3

SMUT #64 "Oh, you like that?"

📞 dialling…

Her thighs burned, sweat dripping down her temples, between the valley of her breasts, sticking their skins together as her nails dug angrily into Quinn’s shoulders. She’d begged, begged him until tears pricked in her eyes, walls clenching around his cock, but he still refused to touch her, refused to help the poor woman out as her energy depleted, her once ruthless bouncing on his cock becoming languid cries for assistance. His arms over the back of the sofa, eyes burning into hers as she whimpered pathetically for him.

“Awe, does my pretty girl want some help?” He teased, feeling her grip on his shoulders loosen.

“Please, Quinn, please touch me.” She mewled, “Please fuck me, m’sorry.”

“And what are you sorry for?” 

“Being a brat, m’sorry for teasing you at dinner.” She tried to roll her hips, but she was exhausted from his torment.

His lips quirked into a smirk, hands finally running along her thighs and wrapping around her hips, gently guiding them along his cock, drawn-out moans easily slipping past her lips and echoing around Quinn’s living room. 

“I didn’t quite catch that; you’ll have to be louder.” His fingers gripped either side of her jaw, forcing her to look him in the eye as she gave him a look laced in keen lust.

“M’sorry for teasing you at dinner, Captain, won’t do it again,” she mewled out, louder than before and finding a burst of energy in the way his grip loosened on her face and tightened on her hip. That dominant glare he held softened, and she felt his cock twitch inside her, “Oh, you like that? You like when I say that, Captain?”

“Fuck-” he hissed, throwing his head back, hips callously bucking up into her hard and his hand fell back to her hips, thumb, rubbing firm circles over her clit just how she’d been sobbing for, spreading her slick over the pad of his thumb. Something about the way it rolled off her tongue just shot straight to his dick, maybe it was the act of only he could take care of her, or maybe he was a giver. Either way, he was a simple man and when his girl needed pleasing, he would be the only man to do so properly. 

Lulling her head back, a small giggle escaping from her, shockwaves washed through her as Quinn’s hips rutted up into her cunt, almost doing the work for her as if he was back to doing the duty he knew best: taking care of people.

“Need you, Captain, need you to take care of me, make me cum.” She wailed, emphasising on his title and rolling her hips into the gratifying pleasure of him playing with her deprived clit, “Captain, always so good, fuck me so good!” 

He bit the inside of his cheek, attempting to stifle his groans but the way she clenched around his throbbing cock, dragging against her wet and warm walls like an embrace tailored to fit him, his face burned when he viciously submitted to moaning out her name, grunting with every thrust. Who knew Quinn found carnal fun in hearing ‘Captain’ from her voice, crying out for him, would have him crumble into mush underneath her.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Scottish Sam

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Magda wants you to wear her jersey

It's not very often that Magda gets to see you in her jerseys.

You wore Pernille's Wolfsburg and Denmark one easily. You'd had, on special occasions like the World Cup, worn Magda's Sweden jersey. You'd never willingly worn her Chelsea one.

You'd complained about everything when she used to force you into it. The size. The feel. But most of all, the colour.

Your aversion to Chelsea was something she had grown to live with but, now that you were at Bayern, Magda hoped you would wear her jerseys more often.

There was a strong sense of pride that she could never properly explain when she saw you in one of her shirts like she could imagine the woman you'd become in your own professional jerseys. There was something about it that just made her turn to mush which was why she was glad the Bayern jersey had red.

Red was your favourite colour. She blamed it for the reason that you were drawn to Arsenal in the first place but now she was sure that it was going to work in her favour.

Of course, that all came crashing down when she walked into the locker room to find you wearing a Bayern jersey that wasn't hers.

It wasn't Pernille's either - the only other person she could tolerate you wearing.

Instead, you were wearing Sam's.

You were standing in the woman's cubby too, arms crossed over your chest as you oversaw the other girls milling about waiting to go onto the pitch.

You look a bit scary like that but only a little because you're the same little girl who still slept with your stuffed toys and complained about eating fruit.

Sam's grinning as she looks around, showing anyone who would listen what you were wearing.

"Did you have to let her wear that?" Magda groans," I had a plan, Pernille!"

"It wouldn't have worked," Pernille laughs," She has opinions now. You can't trick her as easy as before."

"We'll see."

As Sam helps you get down, Magda pulls her jersey out of her bag and clears her throat.

You look over at her, wandering closer because Momma has your keeper gloves and Maria and Anna said that you can train with them and Cecilía today.

"What's that?" You ask.

"A Bayern jersey."

It's your size and you look at it suspiciously. You pull at the one you're already wearing. "Why?"

"Well, I thought you'd like to wear it."

"I'm wearing one now."

"But this one is special."

That catches your attention and you shuffle closer. "Why's it special?"

"Because," Morsa says with a flourish," It's mine."

Your interest waves and you move back to Momma. "Oh. That's boring."

Momma laughs and Morsa hisses at her," Pernille! It's not funny!" She turns back to you again. "It's not boring. We can match!"

You huff and stare at Momma. "Do I have to?"

She laughs and cups your cheeks. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to." She helps you slip on your keeper gloves and turns you around so she can fix your hair.

You're facing Morsa now, who is looking between you and the little you-sized shirt in her hand. You stare unblinking at her as Momma runs a brush through your hair and begins to braid it back.

Morsa sighs before tucking it back into her bag and waving a teasing finger in your face. "I'll get you in that soon, Princesse. Just you wait."

You stick your tongue out at here. "Nu-uh!"

Morsa sticks her tongue out too and Momma finishes your hair.

You go towards where the keepers are waiting before you freeze and turn back to Morsa, tugging on her shirt.

"Morsa," You say," You have to take a picture."

"How come?"

"I want to show Australian Sam my new shirt."

Magda bursts out laughing, her ego suddenly soothed by your desire.

You'd never once in your life worn Sam's jersey, Chelsea's Sam of course. You'd always refused, running away whenever she tried to ask you and screeching whenever she came near you with it.

It was always funny to watch and Sam had to try and convince you from a distance.

You never accepted though and Magda's ego suddenly feels fine again now she knows you want to show Sam that you're happily wearing Scottish Sam's jersey.

"Alright," Magda laughs, positioning you so you're looking over your shoulder with a smile as Sam's jersey in seen clearly. She snaps the picture.

"You have to send it to Australian Sam," You say," Okay?"

"Got it, Princesse. Go on off to training."

You grin and nod, running off towards the Bayern keepers, who lead you outside.

"You're not actually going to send it to her, are you?" Pernille asks and Magda's answering smile is all the explanation she needs. "Magda!"

"What?" Magda asks innocently," I'm just respecting Princesse's wishes. There's nothing wrong with that."

Pernille rolls her eyes but doesn't argue anymore and Magda takes this as her chance.

SAM 😈 wtf???? you can't let her do that Magda!!! where's the loyalty???? get that girl into my Chelsea jersey this instant!!!

[gremlingottoosilly]

Kruger's sister being a literal starving artist x Konig. Often times spending her money on paints and stuff while neglecting herself.

One of the main reasons you still live with your older stepbrother even as you both got well over 18 is your total financial irresponsibility. You're the type to blow your entire paycheck on a new set of paint, on her brushes and materials - refusing to get something cheap or work with older materials, your entire savings would be dropped on a new graph tablet. You know you will have a roof over your head, and you even occasionally get some money from commissions and selling your art...still, you struggle to get by. Konig doesn't understand art. He doesn't like it, for the most part, and doesn't see the point in just going to an art gallery and staring at pictures of dead people and already abandoned places just to feel...something? He didn't understand how to look at art properly, so he just ignored it for most of his life. Then Kruger sweeps some of your older pictures that you wanted to put on a garage sale - and Konig is swept off his feet. He stares at the canvas - something about sea, or maybe mountains. Maybe even people, made with such care and talent that even a wood-brained bastard like him knows that you're good. You now have the biggest fan. Requesting his portraits from you - he is shy, awkward, he can't sit for longer than a few minutes so you bark at him to just stay still if he really wants for his picture to be drawn, and he can only get himself to sit calmly if he stares at the way your fingers move and your facial expressions change as you draw him. He pays you so much more than your paintings are worth - you can finally afford nice things, cool things. Proper painting materials, maybe even a new tablet... Konig could be nice and pay you double the rate for nude paintings too - even as you're too fucking shy to look at him, cock standing proudly and leaking on the small cloth he used to cover himself with(it's not working, of course not) and you almost cry in shame. Poor girl, you'd have to work to get your money - you're only lucky because at least he is not forcing you to touch him. Yet...

[tired-teacher-blog]

Virgin Pro hero Deku who -despite being a little over thirty- is still clueless as to how he should speak or act around girls.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who is unable to maintain a steady relationship or even keep one going for over a couple of weeks because it never feels right.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who doesn't believe in casual hookups like one night stands, even with the countless admirers throwing themselves at his feet.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who's a hopeless romantic, spends most of his free time fantasizing about a perfect future with the perfect woman and building scenarios after scenarios of the happy life he dreams of having. Only, he can never assign a face to his perfect lady because he is yet to encounter her.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who wishes to one day have a kid of his own, a thought that often visits him but leaves a bitter aftertaste behind, as he is nowhere near it.

Virgin Pro hero Deku whose mind went completely blank for a millisecond before spiraling out of control the moment he saw you as he found himself inexplicably drawn to you, and his pathetic state only worsened since he didn't know how to properly approach you.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who spent weeks following you from afar, has finally found the face to his once faceless perfect woman.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who is a total klutz, was unaware of your eyes following him back, nor of the shy smile appearing on your face everytime you sensed him nearby.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who could not muster up the courage to talk to you, almost passed out the day you spoke to him for the first time.

Virgin Pro hero Deku whose palms became clammy and throat became dry— the moment you stood face to face with him, only nodded to your suggestion for a cup of coffee together as he did not trust his voice around you yet.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who soon came to realize that a mere glance from you is more lethal than the deadliest of villains he encounters daily.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who was certain you are the one for him the moment you laced your fingers with his and pulled him closer for a shy kiss goodnight as you both stood on your doorstep.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who kept smiling like a fool afterwards because the feeling of your lips against his own was addictive, he wanted more but was too shy to ask, regretting his cowardice the moment you walked into your house and closed the door behind you.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who rewinded that moment in his head all night long as he laid down in bed, still smiling while tracing his lips with his fingers and wishing you were there with him.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who couldn't believe his ears when the words "I love you" left your lips one evening, so casually, with a giggle following suit. He grabbed your hands and stared into your soul as he wordlessly anticipated to hear it again, and he did.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who stood nervously before you, eyes roaming your luscious curves while watching eagerly as your dress slid down your body and hit his bedroom's floor, fully exposing you to him.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who was lost at that moment between his burning desire for you, and an extreme embarrassment for the throbbing bulge he could not conceal behind his palms.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who dug deep inside his mind for any distraction that could keep him from cumming hard in his boxers as you dragged him to bed with you.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who moaned loudly against your neck while feeling the softness of your velvety walls for the first time in his life.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who refused to cum before guiding you to your own release, the hardest test he lived through as the overwhelming pleasure you both experienced was too much to resist, it was addictive and irresistible, keeping you both awake all night long as you explored ech other's bodies until you no longer could move a muscle, gasping for air and holding onto the other firmly, unfazed by the sticky mess connecting you together.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who's always been grateful you were his first, is now certain you'll be his last as he blissfully watched you walk down the aisle..

Divider by: @/cafekitsune

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Baki Head Canons:

Struck By Cupid

Yandere Various Baki Men x Fem Fighter Reader

TW: Reverse Harem/ aged up AU, uncomfortable themes, yandere behavior, drugging, creepy love letters, stalking, Kiyosumi Katou, and non consensual touching (hugs and kisses)

You’re a female mma fighter who was personally invited by Tokugawa to fight in the tournament. A shame most of the competition has taken a little too much interest in you…

Jack Hanma

You became his acquaintance in the ring just like the others. At first he didn’t think much of you until you gave him some advice for strength and technique after you defeated him. He had never felt such warmth in his life. To not only be seen and acknowledged, but to receive praise and advice rather than insults for his loss. For the first time in a long time, he blushed.

Jack doesn’t like the way his heart pounded in his chest when he sees you or how his palms sweat. It’s so strange… he’s never felt like this before.

You’re very polite and you have a welcoming aura to you. People are automatically drawn to you since you look trustworthy and friendly. Even if you aren’t, people adore you. It honestly annoyed you, but you did your best to try to be nice to everyone (a huge mistake).

Jack insults you all the time. This man has no idea how to flirt so he’s extremely rude to you. He truly means well but he’s not a man of many words. His actions will show you his true feelings but you’re quite clueless on those matters since you’d rather focus on martial arts than a relationship of any kind

“Your hair is down today… it makes you look strange. (Your hair is different today, I like it).” Or “You look pale and malnourished. How are you so incapable of taking care of yourself? (Have you eaten today? Why are you not taking care of yourself properly?)”

“Your outfit is unflattering and inappropriate for this weather. (You look cold).”

Jack will throw his jacket or shirt over you if you shiver, but the garments usually reek of his sweat and musk (and the stench of urine). He acts unphased by your refusal to wear his clothes but it actually deeply upsets him. He’s trying, okay?

Jack is painfully awkward. It’s so sad for Baki to watch his brother try to woe you and you turn him down (since you don’t speak ‘Jack’ nor look past his nagging).

Baki is the one to tell him that he smells and Jack is mortified. No wonder you constantly turned down his clothes… Hygiene after training was never on his mind but he made sure to bathe more often and to no longer reek of sweat and incontinence. He now smelled of pine and musk, a scent you didn’t seem to mind as much.

Jack is even more insistent on you wearing his clothes since the colder season still isn’t over and you still turn him down from time to time. He’s just a bit too overbearing for your taste and extremely difficult to talk to (he’s terrifying)

Jack often inserts his awkward presence between you and the other fighters. In his eyes, he’s keeping you safe from those weirdos. In yours, he’s rudely interrupting conversations you’re trying to have. But in all actuality, he is protecting you. Jack has kept you safe and you’re completely unaware of just how dangerous the others are…

Jack just wished he was able to explain his muddled feelings for you. He’s never had a crush nor has he ever touched someone intimately, he was new to all of this. He just wanted you to understand him.

Jack will eventually tire of your rejection and may become more aggressive with his advances. Especially if you’re more receptive to other’s advances. What does Katsumi have that he doesn’t? Jack is much bigger than him in every way. Just look at him… please look at him. Pick him. Love him.

You’ll eventually be cornered by him once you’re finally alone.

His large arms wrapped around your smaller frame as he pulled you close to his body. You could feel Jack’s heart hammer in his chest, his nose buried into the top of your head. You shivered when Jack deeply inhaled your scent.

“Oh um… can I help you-“ Jack suddenly flipped you around. His cinnamon eyes were wild and his palms were covered in a light sheen of sweat. Was he okay? “Jack.. are you alright?”

“I don’t mind your presence.” Jack furrowed his brows and sighed in agitation. “I… I can’t explain how I feel with words.”

“What do you mean-“ you words were caught in your throat when he leaned down to your level, his hot breath mingled with yours. He then pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his entire body trembled like a leaf from the touch.

“I like you, no.” Jack shook his head. “I love you.”

You can’t even utter a word before he placed his hands on either side of your shoulders. His cinnamon eyes brewed a powerful storm of emotion behind him. He meant it, this rude man was madly in love with you. “So pick me. You don’t need anyone other than me in this world. Only I can keep you safe.”

Katsumi Orochi

Katsumi was frustrated with his loss at first. He couldn’t believe he lost to you, an individual who appeared out of literally nowhere. He’s trained most of his life! His entire life was karate and you easily defeated him like he was some sort of beginner!

Yet you didn’t boast to him when he laid in the bloody sand. No, you helped him up and gave him a smile so sweet, his teeth could rot. And you told him that if you hadn’t reacted fast enough, he probably would have defeated you.

“I think you’re really talented. I think you’ll go far in life with your work ethic!” How could someone openly admit that? Most opponents would gloat in his face and yet you didn’t. Your optimism and kindness made his heart flutter. Congratulations! You’re Katsumi’s first crush.

Katsumi invited you to train at Shinshinkai where you often interacted with him, the karatekas, and Retsu. He often found himself admiring you whenever he thought you weren’t looking, which caused him to be teased by the karatekas. Everyone in that dojo knew he had a crush on you… except you.

Katsumi is incredibly sweet. He often compliments you or asks you for a demonstration. Katsumi is eager to learn anything you’d love to teach him.

It’s when you express an interest in learning karate that truly sets his heart ablaze. He gives you a uniform and offered you private lessons. He truly didn’t want any teasing from his students. Plus the two of you could spar to your heart’s content.

But seeing you in a karate uniform really made his mind wander to filthy places. The way the uniform stuck to your sweaty body and how he could almost see into your shirt when you pinned him to the mat. It was entirely too much.

Katsumi will start to ask you out to eat after every training/ sparring session. And how could you ever turn down free food? Your clueless self had no idea that these were dates since the two do you were in casual wear as you explored the town for little treats.

The two of you got along swimmingly. Katsumi found you incredibly easy to talk to… your relationship with him reminded him of Doppo and Natsue’s which made him believe the two of you were romantically interested in one another.

Katsumi never got around to dating due to his devotion to karate. He was inexperienced in every aspect of love other than what he’s seen between his adoptive parents. And he knew that he loved you. Katsumi has never felt this way before in his entire life.

His cheeks flush cherry red when you wipe some crumbs off his face. His words shaky when you give him your utmost attention. Your eyes never left his as he spoke, which only made him all the more nervous. Katsumi believed you were made for him. You’re his soul mate. You were interested in martial arts too and you always made him feel important. Katsumi had to tell you how he felt… he didn’t want to lose his chance.

And it was even worse when he noticed that he wasn’t the only one who held a torch for you. It made him even more competitive to have your hand. Katsumi swore he would be the one to be your lover and eventually, your husband!

So Katsumi began to hog as much of your time as he could at the dojo. He’d ask for more demonstrations and even for your help with his kindergartner class. Katsumi constantly had to adjust his pants whenever you’d affectionately lend a hand to one of the kids. You looked so natural with them… would you want to have kids? Katsumi would love to be the one to father them if you did.

Katsumi’s mind often wandered to fatherhood and marriage with you. You’d look so perfect all plump and round… he had no doubt that your children would be prodigies in martial arts as well. Katsumi looked forward to those blissful, idyllic days. It was guaranteed if you married him!

A shame Katsumi failed to realize that you only saw him as a friend and nothing more…

You jumped when Katsumi’s hand held yours at the dinner table. Your brow quirked at his red cheeks as you slowly chewed your ramen.

“I have something to tell you…” Katsumi blushed while his hands gave yourselves a firm squeeze.

You give him a smile and swallow, your head tilted off to the side. “Of course, Katsumi. You know you can talk to me about anything.”

Katsumi felt his heart flutter and his palms start to sweat a bit. He sucked in a deep breath and gave you the sweetest at you..

“I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.” Katsumi told you, his eyes searched yours for a reaction. His cheeks remained hot when you didn’t move away from the grip he had on your hand so he took the opportunity to run his thumb over the back of your hand. “Please… I need to know if you feel the same. My love for you keeps me up at night, I can’t help but imagine a life with you.”

You’re at a loss for words as you hesitatingly try to pull away from his grip. Sadly, Katsumi only held onto your hand tighter. “Oh Katsumi, I-“

Your eyes nearly blow out of your head when he pressed a hesitant kiss to your lips. A few tears fell down his face as one of his hands tenderly held your cheek.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything…” Katsumi gave you a loving smile. “I know you love me too.”

Hanayama Kaoru

Hanayama suffered a surprising defeat by your hands, one that would have been shameful… if you had let him lay on his back. Imagine his surprise to hear that you didn’t let him fall over when you knocked him out with a roundhouse kick to the head? That you helped him stand up… he was flattered.

And so, Hanayama bought you a bouquet of roses as thanks. The crimson petals looked flattering against you as you curiously tilted your head off to the side at him.

“You didn’t have to get me anything... I just had a lot of respect for you as an opponent! I can’t believe you were able to tank so many blows from me… you’re really strong.” You gave him a bright smile which made Hanayama shrink back a bit in shock. Did you just compliment him?

Hanayama wasn’t quite used to genuine praise. Sure he’d be praised by his peers, but not from his opponents. Especially not an attractive opponent of the opposite gender.

Hanayama has had his fair share of flings. Most women approached him for superficial reasons, but not you. You were a shining star that shared its warmth with the moon. Someone unattainable yet within reach.

Hanayama simply gave you a bow before he left. He was a man of few words, fewer than the other… but his actions were the loudest.

Hanayama doesn’t actively seek you out, quite the opposite. At first at least. The two of you occasionally bump into one another, which made the gears turn in his head. Perhaps this was a fated meeting. Yes… this was the work of the red string of fate.

And so began his fascination towards you. A small crush that slowly grew into a full blown obsession. One that became overwhelming to him.

It started off with small gifts (at least to him). Jewelry and bouquets of roses. Hanayama adored the flower of love that his mother once loved. He bought dainty jewelry with elegant designs so he had the excuse to see you be adorned with accessories he personally picked out (Kizaki actually picked them out)

Hanayama wasn’t much of a romantic but he was willing to try if it meant he’d earn your affection. He’d wear better cologne and make sure his suit was always clean. He genuinely wanted to impress you, by any means necessary. No cost was too great if it meant you’d belong to him.

He began to write you love letters with surprisingly neat, tiny characters. Poor Kizaki had to help him with the right words at first, the right hand man now officially a wingman. Kizaki would do anything to ensure Hanayama’s happiness.

At first you were flattered, it was so cute to watch Hanayama hang you the letters with rosy cheeks. Who knew he had such a cute side to him? He’d even gift you small clothing articles if he noticed your clothes were too baggy/tight.

But then they began to get darker. The clothing became more revealing and were your exact measurements. You never told him your size! His fantasies began to take hold of him since he wasn’t getting through to you at the same pace he was falling for you. And it was especially worse since the other fighters all hovered around you like flies to honey. It upset him. You were his. You belonged to Hanayama.

Sweet words of innocent love soon turned to the ramblings of an obsessive madman. A fact that even someone as clueless as you understood. You were terrified. Hanayama was now using any means necessary to get you into his arms. It didn’t matter what extremes he had to go to, he has loudly staked his claim on you. What the boss wanted, the boss got.

You nervously smiled at Hanayama who placed a bouquet of ruby roses in your hands. The bouquet nearly swallow you whole with its sheer size. Yet another loud declaration of his love for you. A love you were terrified of.

“Thank you, Hanayama… you don’t have to give me so much.” You shrunk back at the stern look he gave you, you hoped you didn’t come off as ungrateful.

“I can buy you grander gifts if you don’t like them. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do-“

You shook your head and tugged on his sleeve, an action that made his face explode in scarlet. “No, I just feel bad since you’re always going above and beyond. I do appreciate your gifts, I think you’re incredibly sweet.”

Hanayama bowed his head as he adjusted his steam filled glasses. You willingly touched him… did this mean you felt the same way he did? That you had a love for him that burned as much as his? God, he wanted to kiss you so badly… but he had another gift for you.

Hanayama reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a neatly wrapped black box. His obsidian eyes expectantly flitted to your face to see your reaction to his gift. It wasn’t difficult to size you in your sleep since you were such a heavy sleeper, but he needed to ensure this would fit!

You felt your blood run cold when Hanayama got down on one knee. What was he doing? The two of you weren’t even dating!!!

“Be my wife… or I can’t guarantee the safety of your friends and family.” Hanayama gave you the smallest of smiles as he revealed the dazzling diamond ring in the box. His predatory gaze never left your form for a second. “What do you say? Yes or yes?”

Baki Hanma

Baki and you were tied in the finals, a fact that blew his mind. The two of you were even in strength? How was that possible? This was thrilling to him!

Baki began to harp you in public to challenge you to a fight. It didn’t matter where you were. In a restaurant, at a cafe, or at a hot spring, it was on sight!

It was when you mopped him on the floor at a hot spring that he realized how inappropriate he was being. Your eyes filled with a fire he’s never seen before while you put your hands on your towel-clad hips. The towel tied firmly in place over your chest.

“Look, I know you’re still not over the tournament results but I have a lift outside of fighting.” You ran a hand through your hair in annoyance. “We could schedule a fight, but I can’t keep brawling with you on the street. I’m not trying to get arrested for fighting some… kid.”

Baki probably looked like a fish out of water. “I’m not a kid! I’m twenty!” His cheeks flushed pink when you giggled at him. What was so funny?

“Well, you’re a kid to me.” You laugh as you ruffle the short man’s hair. “You have a lot of heart, I think you’ll go far, kid!”

“I am not a kid!” Baki blushed when you just waved him off and walked away. A kid… you thought he was a kid! Baki would show you… he’d show you he was a man… but why did his cheeks feel so hot from your teasing?

You often bump into the red head whose cheeks would always flush red when your eyes would meet. It was really adorable. You always made sure to wave and smile at the younger man. There was something about him that seemed incredibly lonely to you…

And so began a friendship with Baki. You’d go out to eat with him and keep him company. Baki wasn’t used to someone asking him about his day or making sure he ate. He wasn’t used to such genuine care that he melted into a puddle from it.

You were welcoming and bright like a ray of sunshine. You’d listen to his woes and offer him your guidance. It was a stark contrast to the last relationship he had once it had fizzled out. Except there was no nagging on your end, you understood his rigorous training.

The first time you hugged him, Baki nearly cried. You were so soft and warm… like a mother.

It took another month for Baki to realize he had a crush on you. He began to seek out your touch more and would try to spend the night in your home. Baki adored being little spoon and he adored how you took care of him. Baki wanted so much more than this friendship

And as time went on, he noticed how the other fighters hovered around you. Each one of them made attempts to get you to be theirs but Baki began to interfere. He didn’t want to be alone again! He didn’t want to live without your loving warmth.

Baki would insert himself between you and the others. He’d interrupt your food outings with Katsumi, he’d stand between you and Jack (or Hanayama), he’d interrupt Retsu before Retsu could talk to you, etc. Look at Baki and only Baki!

So Baki began to cling to you even more. You couldn’t go a day without the redhead by your side. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he clutched onto you like a tick.

The more you tried to avoid him, the worse Baki became. You didn’t want to abandon him, right? He’ll be good to you, he’s just as eligible of a bachelor as the others. He’s also a man despite being younger than you!

“I love you.” Baki whispered into your shoulder before he pressed a soft kiss to the soft skin. His crimson eyes filled with adoration for you. “And I know you’re being hounded by the others, but don’t you think I’d be a better choice?”

You tried to shimmy out of his arms but his muscular arms only tightened around you. It was useless to try to escape the hold of this crimson anaconda. You sighed and placed your hand on his forearm. “Baki, I only see you as a little brother-“

You’re suddenly spun around to face the younger man, his eyes a bit teary. His hands tightly held your arms to your side as he shook. “Is this because I’m younger? I… I can prove to you that I’m a man-“

You reached forward and held his cheeks in your hand. “Baki, it’s just the way I see you. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. Sometimes you just get to be a bit too much.”

Baki melted into your touch, his hands hold yours while your thumbs stroked his beautiful face. Couldn’t you see that this was meant to be? That this relationship could be so much more than platonic?

Baki leaned forward and brushed his lips against yours. His eyes fluttered shut as he softly peppered your lips until he was out of breath. “I love you… I love you so much. I’m willing to fight for you.”

Kaioh Retsu

Retsu had seen you defeat Katsumi with ease. He didn’t get to face off with you, but he was impressed. Especially when he saw that you knew a bit of Kenpo. He didn’t think an mma fighter would incorporate the ancient Chinese martial art, but you had proven him wrong.

The first official meeting with him was at the Shinshinkai dojo. Polite exchanges of one another’s names turned into a deep conversation of martial arts.

“You’re a practitioner of Chinese Kenpo, right?” Your eyes are filled with stars when Retsu nods. “Wow! That’s amazing. I envy your dedication to the craft, you must have been in a temple for years…”

He couldn’t help the butterflies that stirred in his stomach when you express an interest in Kenpo (and an interest in him). You wanted to learn Kenpo over karate? How could he say no?

Retsu taught you the basics of Kenpo and he was amazed with your natural talent for it. It made the butterflies explode in his chest whenever you gave him a bright grin once you caught onto the demonstration he showed you.

Retsu has no experience with women due to being n a temple for so long… so it’s the first time he’s ever been particularly excited. Retsu is so terrified of these new feelings that began to develop for you. But he’s too afraid to ask anyone about what he’s feeling so he does his best to mask the blush on his cheeks.

Retsu found himself making you meals and talking with you about anything and everything. He genuinely enjoyed your company… more than anyone he’s met before.

And so Retsu was in a constant battle with the overwhelming feelings that started to bubble over to the surface. And you trusted him.

“I just feel so safe with you, Retsu. Like nothing bad would ever happen to me if I’m by your side.” You give him a big grin while the two of you sat side by side in a botanical garden. “Thanks for always being so kind to me.”

You’d vent to him about the strange happenings of your peers. Retsu hadn’t realized how troubled you were so he made sure to brew you tea to calm your nerves.

It’s when your hand accidentally brushed against his that made his mind wander to places it never had before. There was no denying how attracted he was to you. How he wanted to pull you into his arms and never let go. How he wanted to keep you safe and far away from all the other fighters who made you uncomfortable. Would you like China? He’d be willing to take you to his home county- no! What on earth was he thinking…

But he refused to succumb to it! He didn’t want to lose you… he didn’t want you to be scared of him or uncomfortable in his presence because he became some animal like the others. Retsu was better than them… because you trusted him.

You lean your head on Retsu’s shoulder, your eyes felt heavier than usual after you drank the tea he brewed you.

“I’m sorry, Retsu.” Your words are a bit slurred but Retsu pet the top of your head in a comforting manner. “I don’t know why I’m so tired…”

“It’s perfectly okay. I can carry you to my room, you can have my futon.” You’re too sleepy to protest when Retsu scooped you up into his arms like some sort of fairytale princess. “I’ll keep you safe, okay?”

You give him a dopey smile and nuzzle your head into his shoulder. Your breathing now steady once you finally succumbed to sleep.

Retsu felt a bit guilty that he had slipped sleeping pills in your tea, but you had such heavy bags under your eyes… which was unacceptable! He could not believe the others never took your health into consideration. What if you fell ill? This was all for your own good.

Retsu brought you into his room and laid you in his futon. His thumb brushed a few hairs from your face in thought. One kiss wouldn’t hurt, right?

Retsu bent down and pressed a shy peck to your lips. His breathing ragged and his cheeks a bright red. That was enough to satiate him for now… he just wanted to keep you safe and healthy.

“I love you more than they ever could.” Retsu whispered while he tucked you in. “I’ll always take care of you. Sweet dreams, Bǎobèi.”

Kiyosumi Katou

Katou was not pleased about your arrival to the dojo. He was humiliated when he lost to you in the first round at the tournament and he hated how everyone crowded around you like you were some gift sent from the heavens. You were just some woman, nothing more.

Katou usually ignored you when you’d train with Retsu or spar with Katsumi. He’d ignore the way the karatekas teased Katsumi or how Retsu’s eyes lingered on you for too many seconds. Katou didn’t understand what was so special about you.

So Katou did what he did best, he insulted you. At first it started behind your back but eventually he grew enough confidence to say it to your face… a mistake on his part.

“How about we settle this with a spar?”

You ended up mopping the floor with him. His arms flailed as he tried to free himself from your rear naked choke. Your feet were way too close to his most sensitive areas than he would have liked and there was no doubt in his mind that if your feet came any closer, he’d cream his pants.

Katou eventually admitted defeat and gasped for air like a fish out of water. Drool and snot fell down his face. He couldn’t believe how pathetic he was- Katou was shocked when you used your sleeve to wipe his mouth and nose off. He didn’t understand why you took the time to clean him up and check on him when he had been horrible to you

“You should really focus more on your karate. You have so much potential.” You offer him your hand which he hesitantly took. Katou marveled at how soft your palms were compared to his… how small your hand was. “Perhaps we’ve gotten on the wrong foot, but I’m willing to start over.”

Since that day, Katou now understood why the other men flocked to you like sheep. You were strong and yet you were kind. You were confident yet humble. You were everything he wasn’t and rather than be envious of you, Katou now desired you. He yearned for you more than anything.

Thanks to you, he took his karate more seriously. Katou sought out your praise. His eyes filled with greed when he gazed upon your sweaty form. He felt his pants tighten and his palms sweat whenever you led give him a smile and a few words of praise.

“You’re doing amazing. You’ve improved so much, Katou.”

Katou’s heart flutters whenever you say his name and he just can’t get enough of you. He has to have you. Even if not fully, he’s happy with crumbs… which is why he began to steal your soiled undergarments from your gym bag. He needed this… he needed a piece of you. Katou needed more than what the dojo provided him.

Katou began to stalk you. In his mind, he knew he didn’t stand a chance to work his way into your heart so he followed you in the shadows. He was voyeur to how all the other fighters fought for your attention. Katou wished you would look his way more… he may not have been as strong as the others, but he was willing to be completely devoted to you

He began to write you notes (that he kept to himself), he took pictures of you when you weren’t paying attention, pictures of you sleeping, and he’d even dig through your trash. Which was only when he’s been without your attention for a few days. Katou knew he was sick. That the way he felt wasn’t normal, but he had no intention to stop. A part of him even wanted you to catch him in the act so you could call him every name in the book.

Yet the more rational part of him was sickened with himself so he’d drown himself in booze once a week. A vulnerable time where you finally ran into him outside the dojo…

“Katou? Are you alright?” You furrowed your brow at Katou who sat on the side of the road. His cheeks were a rosy red and he reeked of cheap cigarettes and beer. There was not a doubt in you that he was drunk out of his mind.

“D-don’t look at me…” Katou slurred his words as he pulled his jacket up to try cover his face. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

You frown and bent down to hold his cheeks, which made more color bloom to his face. Katou’s breath hitched when you checked his temperature. “Katou, I’m a bit worried about you. Have you been eating properly? Please tell me you didn’t drink on an empty stomach…”

Katou sighed dreamily as he leaned into your hands. He felt as if he was on cloud nine since you finally paid him some attention. “You always worry for me and care for me even though I don’t deserve it.”

“Everyone deserves care-“ You’re shocked when Katou began to pepper your palms with kisses. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and feel his heartbeat through each featherlight peck. “Katou? What are you?”

“I love you.” Katou’s eyes studied your face for a reaction, his heart hopeful that you wouldn’t reject him like you had the others. “I know I’m not the strongest or the best looking, but I love you. I’m willing to do whatever it takes for your eyes to be on me.”

“Katou-“ You gasped when he glided his tongue across your palm. You tried to recoil your hands but Katou firmly held them in place.

“Please, just indulge me once.” Katou begged as his body shook like a leaf. “Please... You don’t even have to do anything other than let me adore you.”

Part 2 coming soon…

I’d love to write more and tips would be appreciated. Please buy me a coffee?

[anadiasmount]

Could you write something about jude realising he’s in love with you (so just his pov)

Just him alone in his room maybe and after so much time denying his feelings he lets himself feel for a little and then realises there’s no back to normal, he’s completely head over heels for you

wait i actually love this?? lmk what you think for future purposes 🤭🤍

while jude always denied to idea of love, falling in love, being in love, there was certain exceptions he made just for you. only you. how he could deny that bubbly and tingly feeling when he saw that smile crawl up to your face?

hear you constantly gush, praise, and adore him about how incredibly he was to you. what you didn’t know is that only you were the only one he was doing this too. he should’ve seen it coming after the first month of him in madrid, new, afraid, yet excited to take on his first season.

while jude sometimes felt shy, with you it was like being a whole complete person. his friends would see it, mom and dad, he’ll even jibe was asking what made this new persona in him suddenly change. it was your effect.

yet here was jude sulking with the biggest frown on his face, his thumbs brushing against the screen debating whether or not to send you a message or just say fuck it and call you. jude knew you would be busy studying on a saturday night, especially since your mid terms were coming up. thinking about how you forced him to help you study your flashcards and he took the whole act seriously.

jude felt out of place, and all he wanted was to be with you so desperately. the longing feeling, to feel how you curl up next to him, blabber about the tiktoks you see or your professor who seemed to teach the opposite of what they were supposed to. why did he feel so desperate, the itch becoming more difficult to the point where his chest would begin to pang with pain at the thought of you not there.

“just call her bro, what do you have to lose?” jude’s teammate encouraged over the phone, jude sideyeing him before he gave up and did just that. he typed out your number, wanting to remember it because he never knew when he may need it. the bubble of excitement yet nerves built insides him, jude sipping on his tea before he heard your tired voice.

“hi jude, to what do i owe this pleasure?” you teased, jude holding back a chuckle before replying. “ha ha, very funny. what are you up to right now?” he asked playing with the strings of his hoodie, “i just finished studying for the night, i couldn’t focus properly but it was the same material from this whole week,” you sighed. “is everything okay?” jude asked, practically seeing your nod over the phone. “yes it is now.”

“do you want to come over?”

if jude spent another hour debating he would’ve lost it. but now that you were here, right where he wanted, he wasn’t going to let you go. “okay cookies are made!” you said excitedly, jus expressing behind you and kissing your head. his normal and lovey habit. which you didn’t refuse either. “i picked out a few movies we can watch in the mean time,” he said dragging you to the couch.

jude’s heart couldn’t stop racing. he felt like he could’ve exploded any second now. your scent, the homey feeling, your smile, your touch it was driving him insane. he knew it was beyond playful feelings. he was head over heels for you, and if he didn’t confess now he would regret it later on. he shifted in his spot, making you pull away from him while still watching the tv. “come back here,” jude pouted.

“you’re so needy,” you joked but it was the whole truth. “y/n?” jude’s voice trembled, your eyes drawn to his immediately to ensure he was okay. jude felt a cold tingle spread down his spine, feeling more alive then ever. “what’s wrong-”

“you know you mean the world to me right?” jude started shifting up and getting closer to you, your touch hot against his hands. “i do?” jude nodded, tracing his initials against your skin. “you’re my whole world, y/n…”

“jude stop joking like that,” you pulled away, looking him up and down, but you could tell something felt different from this, from usual times. “i’m not, im being serious right now. i’ve avoided it forever with fear of hurting you or what we have but i don’t care about that now. i’m done waiting and avoiding how i feel,” jude stressed.

“what are you saying,” you asked, jude’s heart wrenching and pounding louder then when he played a game. “i’m saying that i love you and i have for the longest now,” jude said staring into your eyes but all he heard was laughter escaping your lips. “yeah you’ve lost it now,” you got up and went to the kitchen unable to get rid of the gut feeling.

jude was more nervous then ever, your small rejection getting to him more then it should’ve. “y/n why would i lie to you about something like that? you’re all i think about day and night. during training, when i see those silly panda stickers all over my room, or that damn scent you have engraved here,” he pointed to his chest.

“i’m so incredibly in love with you y/n. im tired of just pushing my feelings away because i was being selfish. im ready now, im ready for you. for us. i want to whatever it takes to make you happy with me. all i want is you, you y/n,” jude cried out, his voice pleading the hear him out. to take him out the misery he felt. for you to confess as well.

“jude-”

“y/n please say you love me back… that’s there’s a chance for us, please my love…”