#because you two are closer than anyone can ever understand

[frownyalfred]

actually the idea that Dick, the eldest, the only one who ever wore the cowl long term, the only one who raised a Robin on his own, is also the only one who can successfully, perfectly replicate that barked ROBIN! in Bruce's voice? the only one who can pull that exact tone from the depths of his soul, to the point where his voice is identical, so identical that old Robins like Jason are obeying before their minds even realize their bodies are moving? that Dick is the only one, has always been the only one, who can channel Bruce's voice? can channel Batman himself? I am going feral

[pucksandpower]

Critics and Lovers

Max Verstappen x journalist!Reader

Summary: how would the paddock react if they knew that the woman writing scathing critiques about the reigning world champion weekend after weekend was the same woman who whispers sweet nothings in his ear at night?

“Did you really go to school for half a decade to get your journalism degree just to ask if I think I’ll win?”

Max’s voice cuts through the bustle of the press room, drawing the attention of a few journalists milling around with their notebooks and recorders. He leans back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, his smirk more amused than annoyed. His blue eyes — always so intense under the brim of his cap — lock onto yours, daring you to respond.

You raise an eyebrow, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at him. “I’m asking the questions the people want answers to, Max. It’s my job, remember?”

“Your job is to provoke me, apparently,” he counters, leaning forward slightly, his smirk widening. “But you know, you could at least pretend to be creative. Ask something that might surprise me for once.”

“I wasn’t aware you had the capacity to be surprised,” you quip, your pen hovering over your notepad as if ready to jot down his response.

Max lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Touché. But if you’re expecting me to give you a soundbite for your next article, you’ll have to do better than that.”

The exchange draws a few chuckles from the nearby journalists, but they quickly refocus on their own tasks, used to the banter between the two of you. After all, it’s no secret that you’re Max Verstappen’s biggest critic.

Week after week, your articles dissect his performances with surgical precision, never shying away from pointing out his flaws, his temper, his moments of questionable judgment. To everyone else, you’re just doing your job, holding one of the sport’s biggest stars accountable. But to Max — well, he seems to take it in stride, brushing off your critiques with the same ease he shows on track.

What no one else knows, though, is that this verbal sparring is just another part of the complicated dance you and Max have been perfecting for years. A dance that begins in front of cameras and microphones, and ends in private, where the lines between your professional rivalry and personal relationship blur into something neither of you can fully define.

“Okay, fine,” you say, pretending to think hard about your next question. “How about this: what’s your plan for today? Any new strategies to surprise us with?”

Max raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “That’s almost worse than your first question. Did you really think that would get me talking?”

You sigh, exasperated. “Maybe if you gave me a straight answer for once, I wouldn’t have to keep asking.”

He leans in closer, lowering his voice just enough so only you can hear. “Maybe if you asked me something off the record, I’d actually consider it.”

“Off the record doesn’t sell papers, Max,” you reply, your tone equally low but tinged with something more affectionate, something that would be impossible to miss for anyone paying close attention.

Max’s smirk softens into something more sincere, his eyes flickering with the warmth that you’ve come to associate with the quiet moments you share away from the track, away from the scrutiny of the world.

It’s a look that says he knows you’re playing a role, just like he is. That despite the biting comments and the professional jabs, there’s a mutual understanding between you. A connection that runs deeper than anything either of you would ever admit in public.

But here, in this crowded room filled with reporters who’d kill for the kind of scoop only you could provide, that connection has to stay hidden. Because if anyone ever found out the truth — if they knew that you, the woman who writes those scathing critiques of Max Verstappen, were the same woman who shares his bed at night — it would be the end of both your careers.

And so, the game continues, with both of you playing your parts to perfection.

“Next time, try asking me something interesting,” Max says, his voice returning to its usual volume as he straightens in his chair, signaling the end of your private moment. “Otherwise, I’ll start thinking you’re getting lazy.”

You give him a look that’s meant to be stern but can’t quite hide the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Lazy? I think you’re confusing me with your performance last weekend.”

The jab earns you a mock glare from Max, but he doesn’t take the bait, instead giving a noncommittal shrug. “We’ll see who’s lazy when I’m on top of the podium later.”

“Confident as ever, I see,” you remark, jotting down a few notes that you know you’ll never actually use.

“Just stating facts,” he says, and for a moment, you can’t help but admire the way he carries himself, the ease with which he navigates this world of high stakes and even higher expectations. It’s one of the things that drew you to him in the first place, back when neither of you had any idea where this relationship was heading.

“Well, good luck out there,” you say, finally stepping back to let the next reporter have their turn. But as you move away, you catch the briefest flash of something in his eyes — something that tells you he’s not just thinking about the race ahead, but about the conversation you’ll have later, away from prying eyes.

As you find a spot at the back of the room, your phone buzzes in your pocket. A quick glance tells you it’s a message from Max, sent under the guise of a work-related email, as usual.

You know I’m going to make you pay for that lazy comment later, right?

You bite back a smile, typing out a quick response.

Promises, promises.

The rest of the press conference goes by in a blur of questions and answers, none of which capture your attention the way Max does. You’re barely listening when the moderator finally wraps things up, and the drivers start to file out.

But before Max can make his exit, he pauses just long enough to catch your eye, giving you a look that’s all too familiar. It’s the same look he gave you the first time you met, back when he was just another driver on the grid and you were the new journalist determined to make a name for yourself. A look that says he’s already planning what he’s going to say to you later, when the cameras are off and the real conversations can begin.

You follow the crowd out of the room, blending in with the other journalists as you make your way toward the paddock. But your thoughts are already drifting to the end of the day, to the moment when you’ll finally be alone with Max, free to drop the pretense and just be yourselves.

Because despite the roles you play in public — the critical journalist and the cocky driver — in private, you’re something else entirely. Something that neither of you can fully explain, but neither of you wants to give up.

“Heading back to the media center?” One of your colleagues asks as you step outside, the midday sun beating down on the paddock.

“Yeah, I’ve got a deadline to meet,” you reply, forcing your mind back to the task at hand. But even as you say it, you know that your thoughts will be elsewhere for the rest of the day. On Max, and the secret you both share. A secret that, for now, is safe.

But how long can it stay that way?

The question lingers in your mind as you head back to your desk, the usual chatter of the paddock fading into the background. You’ve always known that this arrangement couldn’t last forever, that eventually, something would give.

The world of Formula 1 is too small, too tightly knit, for secrets like this to stay buried forever. And when the truth finally comes out — because it’s not a matter of if, but when — you know that everything will change.

But for now, you push those thoughts aside, focusing on the article you need to write. It’s what you’re good at, after all — crafting narratives, shaping stories. And today, the story is about Max, the driver who never fails to surprise you, both on and off the track.

The press room is quieter now, most of the other journalists having moved on to other tasks. You sit down at your laptop, the screen reflecting your determined expression. The cursor blinks at you, waiting. And as you begin to type, the words flow easily, the story taking shape with each keystroke.

It’s a story the world has seen before — another race, another analysis of Max Verstappen’s performance. But underneath it all, there’s a subtext that only you can see, a hidden layer that tells the real story. The one that will never make it to print.

The one that belongs to just you and Max.

Hours pass in a blur, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you lose yourself in the work. It’s almost too easy to write about Max, to analyze his every move, his every decision. You know him better than anyone, after all — better than any other journalist in this room, better than most of the people in his life. It’s a knowledge that comes with a price, though, a price you’re all too aware of.

But as the final paragraph falls into place, you sit back, satisfied. The article is done, the narrative complete. And with it, the day’s work is finally over. You stretch, glancing around the empty press room, and for a moment, you allow yourself to relax. To let go of the role you’ve been playing all day, and just be yourself.

Your phone buzzes again, pulling you back to reality. Another message from Max.

Meet me in the usual place?

You don’t hesitate before typing out a reply.

On my way.

The media center is almost deserted as you make your way out, the soft hum of electronics the only sound filling the room. You slip your laptop into your bag and sling it over your shoulder, feeling the weight of the day lift slightly as you step into the paddock. The evening air is cooler now, a welcome relief after the day’s heat, and the sky is streaked with shades of orange and pink as the sun dips below the horizon.

You walk with purpose, navigating the familiar maze of trailers and motorhomes, heading toward the secluded spot where you and Max often meet. It’s tucked away from the main pathways, a place where no one would think to look for you, and that’s exactly why it works. You reach the spot and pause, taking a deep breath before stepping around the corner.

Max is already there, leaning against the side of a trailer, his cap pulled low over his eyes, hands shoved in his pockets. He looks up as you approach, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“Took you long enough,” he says, his tone teasing.

“Had to finish that article you’re so eager to read,” you reply, stopping a few feet away from him, just outside the reach of his hands.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s a glowing review of my abilities,” he says, pushing off the trailer and closing the distance between you in two strides. He reaches for your hand, pulling you closer, and you don’t resist. Here, in this quiet corner of the paddock, the walls come down, and the roles you play for the cameras melt away.

“Glowing might be a stretch,” you say, allowing yourself a small smile as his hand lingers on your waist. “But it’s fair.”

“Fair is good,” he murmurs, leaning in so his forehead rests against yours. “But if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re going easy on me.”

“Maybe I am,” you admit, your voice softening. “Or maybe I just think you deserve a break every now and then.”

“From the criticism? Or from you?” He asks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Both,” you say, giving him a playful shove, but he doesn’t budge, his grip on you firm yet gentle.

“You know I’d never take a break from you,” he says, his voice low, serious now. His thumb strokes your side, sending a shiver up your spine.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the sensation wash over you. It’s these moments you treasure the most, the ones where it’s just the two of you, no expectations, no pressure. Just Max and you, stripped down to the simplest version of yourselves.

“I know,” you whisper, opening your eyes to meet his gaze. “I’d never let you.”

His smile turns tender, and he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. “Good,” he says simply, before closing the small gap between you and pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is soft, unhurried, a stark contrast to the fast-paced world you both live in. It’s a reminder of what you have, what you’ve built together despite the odds. And as you kiss him back, you feel a warmth spread through you, one that has nothing to do with the lingering heat of the day.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours again, he lets out a small sigh, as if he’s been holding his breath all day and can finally relax. “I hate this,” he admits quietly.

“Hate what?” You ask, your fingers playing with the edge of his shirt, needing the physical connection to anchor you.

“Hiding,” he says, the word heavy with the weight of months, years of secrecy. “I hate that we have to keep doing this, sneaking around like we’re doing something wrong.”

You feel a pang in your chest, because you hate it too. Hate the way you have to pretend to be something you’re not in front of everyone else. Hate the way you have to watch your words, your actions, every time you’re in the same room as him. But more than that, you hate the idea of what would happen if the truth came out. The scrutiny, the backlash, the way it would change everything.

“I know,” you say softly, your fingers stilling on his shirt. “But it’s the only way right now. We both knew that going into this.”

“I know we did,” he replies, his voice tinged with frustration. “But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No,” you agree, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “It doesn’t.”

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and for a while, neither of you says anything. The silence is comforting, a shared understanding that words can’t always convey. It’s moments like these that make the rest of it bearable — the stolen kisses, the secret glances, the knowledge that, no matter what happens, you’ll always have each other.

Eventually, Max pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression softer now, the frustration replaced with something gentler, more resigned. “I just wish it could be different,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” you admit, your heart aching with the truth of it. “But we’ll get through this, Max. We always do.”

He nods, though you can see the doubt lingering in his eyes. “Yeah, we will,” he says, as if trying to convince himself as much as you. “And when we do, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

“Together,” you echo, holding onto the word like a lifeline.

He leans in to kiss you again, and this time, it’s slower, more deliberate, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail, every sensation. And you let him, because you’re doing the same, savoring the feel of him, the taste of him, the way his hand cradles the back of your head like you’re something precious.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless, and the world feels a little less heavy, a little less overwhelming. Max rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his breath warm against your skin.

“I love you,” he says, the words so simple, yet so profound in the way they ground you, remind you of what’s important.

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice steady, certain.

He smiles then, that slow, genuine smile that’s just for you, the one that makes your heart skip a beat every time. And in that moment, everything else fades away — the doubts, the fears, the uncertainty of what the future holds. Because right now, in this quiet corner of the paddock, it’s just the two of you, and that’s enough.

For now, it’s enough.

“Come on,” Max says after a moment, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s get out of here before someone comes looking for us.”

You nod, and together, you slip out of the shadows, making your way back through the maze of trailers and motorhomes, hand in hand. The paddock is quieter now, most of the crew having called it a day, and the sky is a deep, dusky blue as night settles in.

As you walk, you can’t help but glance at Max, the way his profile is lit by the dim lights of the paddock, the way his grip on your hand never wavers. It’s moments like these that make it all worth it — the sacrifices, the secrecy, the constant balancing act between your public and private lives.

Because at the end of the day, it’s not the criticism or the articles or even the races that matter. It’s this — being with him, knowing that no matter what, you’ll always have each other.

And as you slip out of the paddock together, unnoticed by anyone, you hold onto that thought, letting it carry you through the darkness, through the uncertainty of what tomorrow might bring.

Because for now, it’s enough.

And that’s all you need.

***

The Hidden Truth: Why I Kept My Marriage a Secret

By: Y/N Y/L/N

For as long as I’ve been a journalist, I’ve prided myself on one thing: honesty. I’ve built a career on asking the tough questions, on digging for the truth even when it’s uncomfortable, and on holding the powerful accountable. That’s why, as I sit down to write this, I find myself in an unfamiliar position — one where I’m the subject of my own scrutiny.

Over the past few years, I’ve become known as Max Verstappen’s biggest critic. I’ve questioned his decisions on track, his attitude off it, and his approach to the sport we both love. I’ve written article after article dissecting his every move, never once pulling my punches. And, in doing so, I’ve created a persona that many have come to recognize — a journalist who isn’t afraid to speak her mind, no matter who she’s writing about.

But there’s something I’ve kept hidden. Something I’ve chosen not to share, not because I’m ashamed of it, but because it’s deeply personal. And now, it’s time to tell the truth.

Max Verstappen is my husband.

Yes, you read that correctly. The man I’ve spent years publicly scrutinizing is the same man I wake up next to every morning, the same man who knows me better than anyone else in this world. We’ve been married for two years, together for even longer, and our relationship is something I hold incredibly dear.

I can already hear the questions — how could I, a journalist dedicated to transparency, keep such a monumental secret? How could I write so critically about the man I love, knowing the impact my words would have? The answers are complex, but I’ll do my best to explain.

When Max and I first started dating, it was easy to keep our relationship private. We were just two people trying to navigate the chaotic world of Formula 1, and neither of us wanted the added pressure of public scrutiny. But as our relationship grew more serious, we both knew that revealing it would come with consequences — not just for us, but for our careers, our reputations, and our personal lives.

So we made a choice. We decided that our relationship was something we wanted to protect, something we wanted to keep just for ourselves. And yes, that meant keeping it a secret from the public, from our colleagues, even from some of our closest friends.

But the secrecy wasn’t about hiding. It was about creating a space where we could be ourselves, away from the cameras, the interviews, the constant analysis of every move we made. It was about having something that was ours and ours alone, in a world where so much is shared, dissected, and often distorted.

Now, as for the criticism — many of you will likely wonder how I could write so harshly about the man I love. The truth is, when I put on my journalist hat, I’m not Max Verstappen’s wife. I’m not Y/N, the woman who loves him. I’m Y/N Y/L/N, the journalist who has a job to do. And that job is to report on the sport objectively, to ask the tough questions, and to hold everyone — including my husband — accountable.

Max knew this from the beginning, and he respected it. In fact, he encouraged it. He didn’t want me to go easy on him just because of our relationship. He wanted me to be true to myself and to my profession, even if that meant writing things that were difficult for both of us. And yes, there were times when it was hard — when I wrote something that hurt him, when we had to have difficult conversations about where to draw the line between my role as a journalist and my role as his partner.

But through it all, we’ve managed to keep our relationship strong, because we both understand that what happens on the track, what’s written in the press, isn’t the full story. The full story is what happens behind closed doors, away from the public eye, in the quiet moments we share when it’s just the two of us.

And now, the secret’s out. I know this revelation will come as a shock to many, and I’m prepared for the questions, the speculation, and yes, the criticism that will inevitably follow. But I want to make one thing clear — I’m not sorry.

I’m not sorry for keeping our relationship private. I’m not sorry for protecting something that means the world to me. And I’m not sorry for continuing to do my job with integrity, even when it meant writing things that were difficult for both of us.

This is our truth. It’s messy, it’s complicated, but it’s ours. And now, it’s out there for the world to see. I’m not asking for understanding or approval, because I know this will be a difficult pill for some to swallow. But I am asking for respect — for my choices, for our relationship, and for the fact that, at the end of the day, we’re just two people who fell in love in a world that’s anything but ordinary.

Max and I are still the same people we were before you knew about us. He’s still the incredible driver you’ve come to admire, and I’m still the journalist who will continue to ask the tough questions, no matter who’s on the other side of them.

The only difference now is that you know the full story.

And I’m okay with that.

***

The Other Side: Why We Chose to Keep Our Love Private

By: Max Verstappen

I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge, whether on the track or off. Racing is in my blood — it’s what I’ve known and loved my entire life. But writing? That’s a whole different race, one where I’m definitely out of my comfort zone. So, when Y/N suggested I write this article, I wasn’t sure if it was such a great idea. But she convinced me — like she always does — so here I am, trying to find the words to explain what’s been one of the most significant parts of my life, one that I’ve kept hidden from the world until now.

As you’ve probably read by now, Y/N Y/L/N, the journalist who has been my harshest critic, is also my wife. Let that sink in for a moment — I know it took me a while to get used to the idea too. Not the fact that she’s my wife, but that the world now knows something we’ve kept private for so long.

When Y/N and I started dating, we had no idea where it would lead. We were just two people who happened to find something special in each other, despite the chaos of our worlds. But as our relationship deepened, so did the challenges. How do you navigate a relationship when one of you is in the spotlight 24/7, and the other’s job is to shine that light as brightly as possible, even when it’s uncomfortable?

We quickly realized that what we had was too important to let the world dictate how we lived it. So, we made a choice — a choice to keep our relationship private, not because we were ashamed, but because we wanted something for ourselves, something that wasn’t up for public debate or scrutiny.

People will ask why we did it, why we went to such lengths to keep it a secret, and the answer is simple: because we had to. Being a Formula 1 driver means living your life under a microscope. Every move you make, every word you say, is analyzed, criticized, and often misunderstood. It’s a pressure cooker, and adding a public relationship into that mix was something we weren’t willing to do.

It wasn’t an easy decision. There were times when I wanted to scream from the rooftops about how much I love this woman, how much she means to me, and how proud I am of her. But I knew that doing so would open us up to a level of scrutiny neither of us wanted or needed. And so, we kept it quiet, we kept it private, and we built something strong and real away from the cameras.

That’s not to say it was without its challenges. Y/N’s articles about me — some of which were less than flattering — were hard to swallow at times. But I respected her too much to ask her to change the way she does her job. She’s a journalist, and a damn good one at that. She has a responsibility to her readers, to the sport, and to herself to be honest, even if that honesty stings.

Did it hurt when she wrote something critical about me? Of course, it did. But I also understood that what she wrote came from a place of integrity, not malice. It was her job to ask the tough questions, to hold me accountable, and to do so without bias. And I loved her even more for it.

You might wonder how we managed to keep our relationship strong despite the secrecy and the criticism. The truth is, we did it by being honest with each other in ways we couldn’t be with anyone else. We talked — about everything. About the articles, about the pressures we were both under, about our fears and our hopes for the future. We made sure that, no matter what happened on the track or in the press, we were solid in our relationship. And we were.

But now that the secret’s out, I know things will change. People will have opinions, and they’ll want to know every detail of how we made this work. They’ll want to dissect our relationship just like they dissect my races. And that’s fine — we knew this day would come eventually.

What I want people to understand, though, is that our decision to keep our relationship private wasn’t about deception. It was about protection. We wanted to protect what we had, to give ourselves the space to grow as a couple without the pressures of the outside world bearing down on us.

I’ve always been a private person, and that’s not going to change just because the truth is out. But I’m also incredibly proud of what Y/N and I have built together. She’s my toughest critic, yes, but she’s also my biggest supporter, my partner, and the person I trust more than anyone else in this world.

So, why write this now? Because I want to set the record straight. I want people to understand that our relationship is real, that it’s built on love, respect, and a shared understanding of what it means to live in this crazy world of Formula 1. We didn’t hide it because we were ashamed — we hid it because we wanted to protect it, to keep it safe from the chaos that surrounds us every day.

And now that the secret’s out, I’m not afraid of what’s to come. I know there will be challenges, but I also know that we’ll face them together, just like we’ve faced everything else.

This is our story. It’s not perfect, and it’s far from simple, but it’s ours. And now, the world knows it too.

***

The sun hangs low over the paddock as you walk beside Max, your hand nestled comfortably in his. The usually bustling environment feels different today, like the air has thickened with anticipation. You can feel the eyes on you — hundreds of them, some curious, some incredulous, all hungry for the next piece of the puzzle that is you and Max Verstappen.

You’ve written about this very paddock more times than you can count. You’ve captured its energy, its chaos, its unpredictability. But today, for the first time, you’re the story.

Max squeezes your hand, a silent reassurance, and you glance up at him. He’s calm, or at least he appears to be. You know him well enough to see the subtle signs of tension — the set of his jaw, the way his eyes scan the crowd with a little more intensity than usual. He’s ready for whatever comes next. So are you, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Ready?” He asks, his voice low, meant only for you.

“As I’ll ever be,” you reply, managing a small smile.

The first few steps into the paddock are deceptively quiet, almost serene. But then, as if someone has flipped a switch, the cameras flash, the microphones extend, and the questions start flying at you from every direction.

“Max! Is it true you’ve been married for two years?”

“Y/N, why did you keep it a secret?”

“How does this change your dynamic on the grid?”

“Will you be writing about Max differently now?”

You and Max exchange a glance, a wordless conversation in the middle of the media frenzy. His hand tightens around yours, a steady anchor in the chaos. You can feel the eyes of your colleagues, the other journalists who are now looking at you not as one of them but as a subject. It’s a disorienting feeling, like the world has suddenly shifted and you’re standing in a place you no longer recognize.

Max leans in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “Welcome to my world.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, a sound that cuts through the tension like a knife. It’s absurd, this whole situation. You’ve spent years writing about him, criticizing him, analyzing his every move, and now you’re on the other side of that scrutiny.

You straighten your shoulders, drawing on every ounce of professionalism you have. This is what you signed up for. You’ve spent years dissecting the lives of others, and now it’s your turn to be under the microscope. It’s only fair.

But Max isn’t letting you go it alone. He steps forward, his presence commanding as he addresses the swarm of reporters. “We’ll take questions, but let’s keep it civil,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The first question comes from a reporter you recognize, someone you’ve shared more than a few press rooms with. “Max, how does it feel to have your relationship with Y/N out in the open?”

Max glances at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It feels good. We’ve wanted to keep this part of our lives private, but now that it’s out, we’re ready to move forward.”

Another reporter jumps in, this one more aggressive. “Y/N, how do you expect to remain unbiased in your reporting now that everyone knows you’re married to Max?”

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. “I’ve always strived for objectivity in my work, and that won’t change. My relationship with Max is separate from my role as a journalist. I’ll continue to ask the tough questions, just as I always have.”

It’s a carefully crafted answer, one you rehearsed in your head a dozen times before stepping into the paddock. But you can see the skepticism in their eyes, the doubt that you can truly keep your professional and personal lives separate. It stings, but you knew it was coming.

Max’s voice cuts through the murmurs. “Y/N has always been one of the best in the business, and that’s not going to change just because we’re married. If anything, she’ll probably be even harder on me now.”

There’s a ripple of laughter, a brief moment of levity in the tension-filled space. But it’s short-lived. The questions keep coming, each one sharper than the last.

“Max, do you think your performance on the track will be affected now that your marriage is public?”

“Y/N, do you regret keeping this a secret for so long?”

“What about the other drivers? How do they feel about this?”

You’re starting to feel the weight of it all, the relentless pressure of the cameras, the voices, the questions that seem to dig deeper and deeper. But Max is by your side, unwavering, and that gives you strength.

“I don’t regret anything,” you say firmly, your voice cutting through the noise. “Max and I made the decision to keep our relationship private because it was what was best for us. We wanted to protect something that mattered to us, and I don’t think anyone can fault us for that.”

Max nods, his hand still wrapped around yours. “We knew this would come with challenges, but we’re ready to face them together.”

There’s a moment of silence, a pause as the reporters digest your words. But you know this isn’t the end of it. The scrutiny, the questions, they’re not going to stop anytime soon. You’ve become the story, and that’s something you’ll have to live with.

But as you stand there, side by side with Max, you realize that you’re okay with it. You’ve spent years writing about other people’s lives, their triumphs and failures, their relationships and rivalries. Now, it’s your turn to be in the spotlight, and you’re ready for it.

“Max, Y/N,” a voice calls out, one of the more seasoned journalists you’ve always respected. “What’s next for you two? How do you plan to navigate this new chapter?”

Max looks at you, his eyes softening. “We’re going to keep doing what we’ve always done. I’ll keep racing, Y/N will keep writing, and we’ll keep supporting each other every step of the way. This is just another challenge, and we’re more than ready to face it.”

You nod, feeling a surge of confidence. “We’re not going to let this change who we are or what we do. We’ve always been a team, and that’s not going to change now.”

There’s a finality to your words, a sense that you’ve said all there is to say. The reporters sense it too, the questions starting to taper off as they realize they’re not going to get anything more out of you today.

Max squeezes your hand one last time before turning to the crowd. “Thanks, everyone. We’ll see you in the media pen.”

With that, he starts to lead you away, but not before you catch the eyes of a few of your colleagues. There’s a mix of emotions there — some understanding, some curiosity, and yes, some judgment. But you don’t let it get to you. You’ve spent your career building a reputation, and one revelation isn’t going to tear that down.

As you walk away from the crowd, Max’s arm slips around your waist, pulling you close. “Not so bad, huh?” He murmurs.

You laugh softly, leaning into him. “Speak for yourself. I think I’ll stick to writing the articles, not being the subject of them.”

Max chuckles, his breath warm against your temple. “Now you know why I’m not a fan of the media. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Of course,” you echo, smiling up at him.

The paddock is still buzzing with energy, the usual pre-race preparations in full swing. But you and Max walk through it with a new sense of purpose, a newfound clarity. The secret is out, and while it comes with challenges, it also comes with freedom — a freedom to be yourselves, to love each other openly, without the burden of secrecy.

You know the road ahead won’t be easy. There will be more questions, more scrutiny, more judgment. But as long as you have Max by your side, you know you can handle whatever comes your way.

[bi-writes]

Does MOB ever just like.. walk up to Simon and like... Grab his ass?? Fondle his tibbies a lil bit?? Give a good squeeze to his cheeks or his milkers?? Cause if he was my husband and he was okay w it I would do that shit literally on sight every day

mail-order bride

you've been staring since he walked into the room.

he's wearing a shirt two times too small. it must be laundry day. either way, your husband looks...bigger than normal. he's cooking, standing at the kitchen counter as he sears off a few pieces of something in a pot, and when he drops a few dashes of soy sauce into the pot, you think a man has never looked so sexy sauteing onions.

he turns finally to the cutting board behind him, and he winks when he meets your eyes. you giggle involuntarily, a shrill sound leaving you because you have the biggest fucking crush on this man.

can men have tits? they can. they do. simon does. and you can see them in this tiny fucking shirt, and now you understand sometimes why your dresses end up torn on the floor of your living room--because you just want it.

"simon--"

"'ello, luv," he hums, licking some sauce off his finger before going back to chopping some herbs that lay on the cutting board. you pad further into the kitchen, coming close, and he looks up finally when you're standing right beside him. "somethin' wrong?"

"you're so hot," you whisper, and simon continues chopping, big arm moving as he leans over into your space a little.

"wot's tha'?"

"you're so hot, simon."

he chuckles lowly, moving the knife under the pile to place into a bowl. he sets down the knife and turns to face you, crossing his arms over his chest. fuck, it's making his chest look bigger, ughhh...

"somethin' the matter? ya sick?"

"no," you whine, reaching over, and he drops his arms when you forcibly move them away, pushing your hands up his stomach, over his pecs, squeezing the firm muscle there. "oh my god..." you lean in, getting on your toes, and he gives in quite easily, kissing you warmly. "i can't believe you're mine--"

simon huffs as you throw your arms around his neck, lifting your leg around his waist, and he bends to hoist you into his arms as you start trying to climb him like your very own tree (which even then might be impossible, with the huge trunk of a man that he is). you sigh when he drops your weight onto the counter, and with less distance between you, you take full advantage--licking into his mouth, feeling and squeezing up his chest, whispering between kisses i love you and is it hot in here or is it just you? and i want this, i want you, please, simon.

"wot's gotten into ya, baby?" simon murmurs, holding you at a distance. you're eager to get back to him, to kiss him again, and you whimper when he holds you firm, making you look at him. "hmm?"

"i don't know," you breathe, panting. you squeeze the back of his neck, whining, and you try and scoot closer. "i don't know, i just...you look so good...i just..."

the smile that spreads across his face takes your breath away. he's not pretty, but he's pretty. his face tells a thousand stories. a missing tooth or two, a cut lip that never healed right, the slashes that have closed over unevenly across his eyes and along his cheek--but why is he so gorgeous? what makes you so feral for this one man, more than you've ever been for anyone else in your entire life?

there's just something about him. something about simon makes him so beautiful. there's a soft heart underneath that solid chest, there's a full belly and warm body under your hands as you explore the ridges and dips of the rest of his body. he's got the stature of a protector, the eyes of a killer, but fuck, he loves like no one else.

he loves you. he loves like no one else does, ever will, ever has, and he loves you.

you giggle as you cup his cheeks, tracing his lips with your thumb, admiring him.

"sorry, it's hard to be serious," you sigh, shaking your head. "just wanna jump your bones, simon."

"me, too, luv."

"then what are we waiting for, simon?"

he tsks, drawing you closer, pressing his forehead to yours.

"no idea, baby. no fucking clue."

[spxllcxstxr]

Slow Burn Lovers with Jayce Talis • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: Jayce head cannons? maybe like slow burn lovers trope, hcs can be mostly of like what it would be like dating him. Any pronouns is fine! (Tysm I love ur writing!) -- anon

Warnings: gn!reader, it’s all fluff motherfuckers 😫

A.N: his pouty lips are so KISSABLE 😫😫😫 also thank you so much, I’m so happy you like my writing…🥺🥺 I hope you like this too!!!

•

By the time Jayce is partners with Viktor in the lab, the two of you had been friends for a very long time. You had spent most of your time in the Academy with him, from late night study sessions in the library to hanging out in your room with a few drinks. He was someone you quickly realized you could rely on, and he felt the same towards you

Your friendship gets the point where you both essentially know everything about one another. Every little detail about every little thing is mapped out in your minds

Your peers and professors alike always assumed the two of you were a couple and after informing them you and Jayce were just friends, they'd always give you a knowing look and an unconvinced "yeah, sure..." If the two of you weren't together at the Academy, they figured you would get together at some point

Being close friends with Jayce meant that greetings and goodbyes were accompanied by tight hugs, sitting across from each other meant he was, at some point, going to "accidentally" kick you, his hand would frequently rest on your bicep when together. Jayce Talis is a very touchy person and you were absolutely no exception to that. He feels comfortable with you, and this is the best way to show it in his opinion

Always asks you about your day, how you're doing, if you ate yet. He's extremely observant of your habits and behavior and he always wants to make sure you're better than just ok. You do the exact same to him, which always makes his day a little brighter

He falls hard for you, one day in the lab. He had feelings for you bubbling beneath the surface for years, but it never hit him that hard before. Jayce always compared everyone to you, always wanted to see you smile and hear your laugh, he never felt safe with anyone except you. However, it takes him another year to confess to you simply because he doesn't want to ruin your friendship--the greatest thing he's ever had. That was the fear from the very start, all those years ago, but this time it felt more real

When the two of you finally do get together (thank Viktor for pressuring Jayce to just do it already), it seems like almost nothing has changed. You and Jayce had just been acting like a couple for so long that there wasn’t a sudden feeling that something had shifted. However, this did mean that Jayce felt as if he had so many kisses to share with you to make up for lost time

Jayce would kiss you softly on the lips when entering the room, and if you were working he’s press a kiss to your temple. The man can’t get enough of you. There were kisses in the lab, in the corridors, late at night over candle-lit dinners. (Jayce will even sometimes pull you into a supply closet to make out with you when you look so heavenly in your outfit. He knows you two have other things to do and that Viktor is waiting for him back in the lab, but you’re just so irresistible. Surely Viktor understands…(Viktor proceeds to be jokingly mad at Jayce when he finally shows up, ten minutes late with ruffled hair))

Additionally, Jayce's once casual touches turn into something more. His hands linger longer on the small of your back or on the back of your hand. Each brush of his fingertips against your exposed skin sets your nerves ablaze and your heart beats quicker than before. Jayce is fond of bigger displays of physical touch as well. He loves just placing his head in your lap at the end of a long day and pulling your body closer to his in bed

(Heimerdinger feels especially vindicated when he finds out the two of you are finally dating. He’s known since the very beginning you guys were head over heels for each other; it was only a matter of time. Heimer is so happy for you guys once you tell him that he immediately asks when the wedding is and if he can officiate it)

Jayce has found that he has loved you since the very beginning and he sees a future with you by his side

[ashwhowrites]

Requesting for cliche story fuck boy eddie simping over a nerdy girl. Maybe angst in the middle?

Ugh one of my favorite dynamics to write. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

⚠️no actual smut but talks of it

She's different

Eddie spent years being made fun of and being insecure. In ways, it helped him build a tough shell and made him stronger. But it also made him void of any feelings. He turned cold-hearted and didn't let anyone get close enough to him to hurt him.

He was still a teenager, and he had his own needs. And when his hair grew out and he dressed in chains and leather, more girls were at his feet than he had ever seen. Most girls were from the hideout, groupies that lived to watch him on stage. They threw themselves at him for a chance to get backstage and be under his touch.

Being in a band was the happiest thing that happened to him and he loved the easy access of girls to choose from. School was hell, but the second he was on stage, he was what all the girls wanted. And no one would take that feeling away from him.

~~~

Eddie was half asleep as he sat in class. His hand on his palm as he felt his eyes grow heavier. He had a late night with a girl's name he didn't remember. He moaned in discomfort as he felt her marks still stinging on his back.

"Hi," a soft voice spoke in front of him. He snapped open his eyes to see a girl in front of him. She had glasses, and her hair was down. She wore a little sweater and a skinny pair of jeans.

"Can I help you?" Eddie yawned

"Um..." She said as she looked around the classroom. Everyone is moving to sit with their partners. "We are partners. Were you listening?" She asked with a little giggle.

Eddie couldn't help but smile as the sound left her lips. He had to admit, for a quiet nerd, she was adorable.

"I was not, but take a seat," he said with a smile. He used his foot to push out the chair next to him. She moved delicately as she put down her books and sat next to him. He smelled her perfume and examined her even closer. She had these big curious eyes, a soft nose, and incredibly pink lips, and her skin looked soft.

"Well..." She began to explain everything he missed. He tried to listen, but he couldn't stop watching as her lips moved to form the words. He nodded along as she continued to talk.

She turned her head to look at him, she felt her face burn as he stared at her with a small smile on his face.

She coughed and removed her eyes from his. "So! Let's start."

~~~

By the third day of working together, Eddie loved saying her name. He loved how sweet it sounded as it left his tongue.

He was shocked to find himself so lost in her. Not that being a nerd was bad, he used to be one. But he never thought of himself being attractive while being a nerd. But God, did she do it well.

He was captivated by how smart she was. Way too smart to be in his class. She was mature and he could tell by the way she spoke with a high vocabulary. She didn't make him feel dumb, which was different. She was sweet and took the time to explain anything he didn't understand.

He was smitten.

~~~

Five days into working together he wanted more. He wanted to see her outside of school, outside of her shell. He wanted to see how she looked in the outside world and how her personality might change. He wondered if she had another side of her. A side that didn't stress about grades and let loose.

"What are you doing tonight?" He asked, not realizing he cut her off as she explained another part of the project. He was too lost in his head as he thought about her.

She closed her mouth and gave her answer a thought.

"Well, it's Friday so nothing." She laughed, "Why do you ask? Are you worried we won't finish? Because we have five minutes and just one last paragraph." She explained as she pushed up her glasses.

"Nah, respectfully, I could care less about this project," he chuckled, "I want to hang out, just the two of us and not focus on the project."

She froze as she looked over at him. His eyes sparkled and the sun shined perfectly on his face.

"Why would you want that?" She nervously asked. She couldn't form a single idea why he would want to hang out with her. She wasn't anywhere near his usual crowd of friends.

"Because I want to get to know you. I was thinking about a date?" He offered. He felt a little nervous and didn't understand why. Asking out girls was something he could do in his sleep, but she had his stomach fluttering and his hands sweaty.

He felt more nervous as he waited for her answer.

"Why not," she smiled. She clicked her pen and grabbed his hand. He flinched a little as the pen tickled his hand as she wrote down her phone number.

"Call me," she smiled as she picked up her stuff. A second later the bell rang and she was gone in a flash.

Eddie bit back his smile as he looked down at his hand. Her number and a little heart written next to it. He jumped out of his seat, a bounce in his step as he walked out.

~

Eddie didn't realize he was causing much of a commotion until Wayne walked into his disaster room.

"Edward, what in the hell are you doing?" Wayne asked as he took in the sight of Eddie's room. Clothes were thrown everywhere, and shoes were missing their pairs.

"I'm trying to find a nice shirt but everything is a band!" Eddie cussed to himself.

Wayne couldn't help the smile that went across his face, "And why do you all of a sudden need a nice shirt?" He was young once, and he knew exactly why his nephew was stressed.

"Don't look at me like that," Eddie groaned as he yanked off his shirt and added it to the no pile.

"What's her name?" Wayne asked, he leaned against the door with his arms crossed.

"Y/N," Eddie sighed, "I asked her out and I have nothing to wear!"

"Looks to me like you have a lot of options," Wayne laughed, "But what if we go get a nice shirt? I'll take you."

Eddie looked at his watch, he had a good few hours before he needed to leave.

"Fine but we don't speak of it," Eddie said as he pointed at Wayne.

Eddie's leg shook in the car as they pulled up to the small strip mall.

"How come you are this nervous?" Wayne asked as he got out of the car. "We share a wall so I know you aren't shy with many girls."

Eddie blushed in embarrassment, and he mumbled an apology.

"She's different, I guess." Eddie shrugged, he walked behind Wayne as they walked into the shop.

~

Eddie stood in front of the mirror as he sprayed on cologne. He used water to pat down his hair, and he ran his hands over his new button-up.

He was nervous but he was excited.

Wayne wished him luck as he walked out the door. Eddie got in his van and headed to the address she gave over the phone. His heart raced when he talked to her for a few seconds. He was not sure what he was going to do when he was with her all night.

Before he knew it he was outside her door and knocking.

"Hi, Eddie," she smiled as she opened the door. "You look very handsome." She was surprised to see him in something else other than a band shirt and ripped jeans.

"Oh, thank you," he smiled, "you look wonderful." His eyes skimmed up and down her body. She wore a simple and casual dress. It was white with little sunflowers. It matched her personality. She wore her glasses and light makeup.

"Thank you," she smiled.

Eddie gestured for her to walk in front of him, they walked to his van and got inside. She listened to his music as he drove to the location of their date. She was nervous. She had never been on a date before and definitely not with a guy like Eddie.

"I hope you like water," Eddie said, Y/N looked out the windshield and saw that there was a little pond. He got out of the van and opened her door. She thanked him as she got out. She waited as he grabbed a basket from his backseat.

He led them down a little hill, his hand holding hers as she wobbled.

Once they made it to the flat ground, he let go of her hand. He reached into the basket and pulled out a blanket. He threw it on the ground and offered her to sit first.

She smiled as she sat down, smoothing down her dress to cover her thighs. Eddie sat next to her and took out a few snacks from the basket.

Within an hour they were talking like they knew each other for years. Eddie was learning so much about her and it made him like her even more. She had an amazing personality and she was funny. She made Eddie laugh so hard that water came out of his nose. Which made her laugh so hard she had to hold her stomach.

She didn't think she had ever been so happy to be with someone.

And for once, Eddie loved getting to know someone.

As another hour passed, Eddie's urgers got the best of him. She was telling a story and he was lost in her eyes. The way the moon shined down on her and the sound of the water, it couldn't get more romantic in his eyes.

Eddie didn't notice he was leaning in until she froze. He looked down at her lips as he closed the space between them. He softly kissed her lips, and his hands reached forward to wrap around her waist.

She was nervous but she kissed him back. Her hands shook as she moved her arms around his neck. She was new to this and she wasn't sure how to kiss him back. But as he kissed her harder, she got the hang of it.

The kiss got heated as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, she shivered and was surprised to hear a moan slip from her throat.

Eddie took the moan as a green light to move forward. His hands moved down to her thighs and began to slip under her dress.

Her lips stopped and she yanked back. Her hands stopped his hands from moving even further.

"Don't be nervous," he whispered, he went to attach his lips to hers again but she turned her head.

"I'm not, It's our first date, Eddie. I don't want to rush anything." She explained honestly.

"It's not rushing. I do this on all my first dates." Eddie shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.

Y/N felt a blow hit her chest. All of his dates? How many has he been on? How many had he brought to this exact spot?

"You're a pig," she scoffed as she shoved him off of her. She stood up.

"Woah, what's going on?" He asked as he stood up. He wasn't aware his fuck boy ways were sneaking out of him.

"Absolutely nothing anymore," she glared, "take me home." She marched to his van without a glance back.

~

The car ride was silent. She didn't speak a word, just stared out the window.

She should have known better.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked as he pulled up to her house.

"I'll see you Monday." She spat as she got out and slammed his door.

"Y/N!" he yelled after her as he got out. He grabbed her arm and turned her around.

"What did I do?" he asked genuinely.

"I do this on all my dates," she mocked, her voice deep as she repeated his words. "I should have known it was all an act."

The realization smacked him in the face.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push like that." His eyes were soft as he apologized. "None of it is an act! I really like you and I'm not used to feeling that way. I'm used to something different, you know?"

"Maybe you need to figure out everything you feel, and maybe we can talk when you are ready to face those feelings." She smiled sadly and pecked his cheek. He watched as she walked inside.

~~~

The next night Eddie was all over the place. He performed and ran straight to the bar. He wanted to drink his sorrows away. He had one shot and he blew it. He showed just how washed up he was. He slammed down his shot and called for another.

"Hard night?" A random girl asked as she sat next to him. He turned his head to take in the blonde.

"Yep," he said, slamming down his second shot.

"Let me make you feel better," she whispered into his ear.

~

Eddie sat in the back of his van with the random girl on his lap. Her lips were on his neck, but everything felt wrong.

He wasn't enjoying it, and it wasn't making him forget about her. He tried to close his eyes, but all he saw was her sweet smile as they laughed by the water.

He stopped the girl's hands as they went for his belt.

"I can't do this. I'm sorry," he said, he didn't look at her as he grabbed his shirt and slipped it on.

"Are you serious? Since when?" the girl scoffed

"Have you ever really liked someone? Not like being in love, but in that area where you can see yourself falling in love with them?" He asked, the girl sighed and slipped on her shirt.

"Yeah. Chances are if you can already see yourself falling in love, it'll happen. You stuck in that spot?" She asked

"You know my reputation around here. I fuck and move on. She's different. I asked her out and we had an amazing date, then I fucked it up." He sighed, "Not sure how to fix it."

"Admitting it to yourself is the first step,"

"And the next?" he asked

"You admit it to her."

~~~

Monday morning arrived and Eddie was ready to win her back.

Since the project was finished, she wouldn't be sitting next to him. But that was not going to stop him.

He wrote a little note this morning, asking to meet outside during lunch. He walked in and saw her already sitting at her spot. He took a deep breath and handed the note to her.

She looked up at him but didn't say a word.

Eddie walked back to his desk. All throughout class he kept looking back at her.

~

Eddie waited outside and checked his watch. Lunch started ten minutes ago and she wasn't there. He was nervous he might have messed up too much and that she didn't care to fix it. She probably realized he wasn't worth the hassle or the emotions he caused.

He crunched the flowers in his grip as he looked over his shoulder.

"Hi,"

He heard her soft voice before he saw her. He turned around and smiled as she walked closer.

He was nervous as he handed her the flowers, "these are for you."

"Thanks," she said quietly as she took the flowers from his hands.

"I'm really sorry for acting like a dick. You were right, I needed to figure out everything I felt. I went to the bar and I met someone."

Y/N ignored the pain she felt as she listened.

"My plan was to do what I always did. Sleep with someone until I forgot why I was there in the first place. But I stopped it because it felt wrong. I hated myself for being with her. I kept thinking of you." He stepped closer as he held her hand.

"I was doing the wrong thing and with the wrong person. And it made me realize, that I really like you. And I want my main focus to be just on you. I want you." He looked deep into her eyes. "I would love to have the chance to take you out again. I've never actually been on a date, that was my first real one. I know I fucked up the beautiful night we had, but I really think I can make you feel special."

"I guess there's no harm in giving it a shot." She smiled

Eddie jumped to his feet with excitement.

"Thank you!" he crushed her in a hug as she laughed.

~~~

They had been dating for a month and Eddie was true to his word. She felt more special than ever and it was all because of him.

She felt a little nervous as they walked into the hideout. He was honest about his past here and the reputation he had. But she wanted to be a supportive girlfriend and watch him perform. She had to try to forget about all the girls there and just focus on her man.

"The second I'm done, I will be coming straight to you," he smiled. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. She was in a territory where Eddie was never taken, and she wanted to prove herself.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him harder. She wasn't shy as she snuck her tongue in his mouth. Her body rocked against his as his hands landed on her ass.

He felt his head spin as she pulled away. His eyes slowly opened as he caught his breath

"What was that?" he asked, his eyes dark as he drank her in

"Good luck kiss," she said with a shrug and smirk

"I'm going to need luck hiding the front of my pants," he teased as he adjusted his tight jeans.

"I'll help you faster," she whispered in his ear. She enjoyed the way he shuddered.

He kept his eyes on her as he walked into the back.

~

She understood why so many girls adored her boyfriend. The way he performed was incredible. It was hard to look anywhere else.

She waited at a table in the back as he wrapped up. His sweaty body came walking towards her but a girl stepped in.

Y/N couldn't hear the conversation but she could tell the girl was flirting by the way she ran her hand up Eddie's arm.

Then another girl came after that one left. And then other.

Y/N felt sick as she watched countless girls walk up and flirt with him. It was a painful reminder of what Eddie's past was.

She was quick to run outside, needed fresh air and to be away from the scene she was stuck watching over and over.

Eddie was quick to push everyone aside and follow her out.

"Hey baby," he said softly, she was leaning against the wall.

"You were amazing!" she praised as she pulled him into a hug. Eddie hugged her back and thanked her. He pulled back but kept his arms around her.

"Want to tell me what happened in there?" Eddie asked

Y/N sighed and looked down at her feet

"I was just a little jealous."

"Why? You are my girlfriend, they've got nothing on you." Eddie explained

Y/N scoffed and unhooked her arms from him.

"They have all had sex with you, Eddie! They've got plenty on me. I mean, I am nothing like those girls."

"Exactly!" Eddie said as he placed his hands on her face. "I don't want you to be anything like them. I want you because you are you. Yes, I've been physical with them, but that is all. There is no connection or emotional ties. It's different with you because I really see myself falling in love with you."

"Really?" she smiled as she looked up at him.

"Of course." He said as he crashed his lips on hers. She moaned as she kissed him back, her hands in his hair.

After a few seconds, she pulled away. Smirking as he chased her lips. She had him right around her finger.

"You know..." she started, her hands slipped down his body and rested on top of his jeans. "Maybe I'll eliminate the one thing they have on me." Her smirk made Eddie shiver in excitement.

"As in sex?" Eddie choked out. His eyes lit up like Christmas as he practically bounced with anticipation.

"Van, now." She said as she turned around and walked towards his fan.

He watched her walk away with a dopey smile on his face.

"YOU COMING?" she yelled as she turned. She walked backward and kept her eyes on him. She laughed as he seemed to snap out of his daydream. He fished out his keys and dropped them on the floor.

"SHIT, I'M COMING!" he screamed as he bent down and grabbed his keys.

She giggled as he ran straight to the van.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt

[smileysuh]

heart aches

🌙 starring. Jeong Jaehyun x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. Your ex finds your sweet spot as easily as ever, as if it hasn’t been two years since his tongue stroked this specific patch of skin and made your whole body tingle with pleasure. You let out a shaky sigh, threading your fingers through his hair and relaxing against the pillows. “Don’t leave me again,” you whisper. “Never again,” he promises.

tw/cw. foreplay, fingering, mutual masturbation, hand job hand fucking, spitting, finger sucking, inklings of oral fixation, praise, dirty talk, pining, reminiscing, breast worship, teasing, Jae being a simp, unprotected sex, handholding while fucking, Jae is pretty vanilla but pent up as hell, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 5.3k

🍭 aus. ex's to lovers, non idol au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I don't normally do angst, but Idk, this felt right for some reason this month

Prologue:

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asks, watching you fiddle around the bedroom while he cuddles with your cat on the bed. 

Part of you wants to push back your feelings - you’d kind of been hoping to talk to him at the airport in the morning - but you should have known Jaehyun would realize something is up with you. It’s been a nice long weekend having him home with you.

It’s almost been like he never left.

Almost.

With a deep sigh, you go to sit on the foot of your mattress, staring down at your hands. “I can’t do this anymore,” you say quietly.

The room feels achingly silent, and then the comforter ruffles as Jaehyun sits up. “This?” he asks. 

“Us.” The word hurts to even say. “The distance… I mean, I knew continuing our relationship while you’re in a different city at a new university doing your graduate program would be rough… but… I just didn’t know I’d ever feel this lonely.”

Tears are welling in your eyes. You don’t want to break up with Jaehyun- he’s had your heart for four years. Starting over with someone new sounds impossible- but at the same time, being away from him hurts more than you could ever have imagined. It hurts when he calls you every night, being the perfect boyfriend, smiling and telling you about his day. It hurts because you thought you’d go through life together- you thought you’d be there to see it all yourself, not hear about it after the fact on the phone.

“Come here,” Jaehyun says softly, moving your cat off his lap so he can open his arms to you.

You allow Jaehyun to pull you into an embrace, his fingers stroking your hair. His heart is thundering in his ribcage, and you can hear it as you cuddle closer.

“I’m sorry that it came to this,” he breathes, “but I understand.”

You can’t help the tears now, and a choked sob escapes you. You grab at the front of his soft hoodie, wanting to crush the emblem of his new school. Part of you wishes he’d never been accepted into the elite business graduate program, but another part knows that Jaehyun deserves to be where he is now.

You love him, more than you’ve ever loved anyone, and that’s what makes this so painful.

Jaehyun needs to focus on his studies, to build a new life for himself across the country- and you need to do the same. You can’t be a ghost anymore, walking through life like a zombie and waiting to hear from him, constantly checking the time zone differences and calculating what he’s doing based on schedules.

“I can still…” you rub at your eyes, swallowing thickly, “I’ll take you to the airport in the morning-”

“It’s okay, baby,” Jaehyun shushes you gently, kissing the crown of your head. “I can get a cab.”

“Are you angry at me?” you ask, pulling away from his chest to look up at his face, worried about what you might find there.

“Of course not,” Jaehyun assures you, immediately stroking a thumb across your cheek to wipe away your tears. “No matter how much I didn’t want to admit it, I knew things had changed when I moved away. I could see that the distance was a problem. You have needs, and I’m proud of you for voicing them, even if it hurts.”

“My heart is breaking,” you whimper.

Jaehyun frowns. “Mine too.”

“You’re really not mad at me?”

“I could never be mad at you,” Jaehyun promises. “I think it will be easier to talk about this with time, if that’s something you’d be interested in. But for now, how do you feel about just laying down, holding each other, and doing our best to enjoy tonight- if it’s going to be our last.”

It might be easier if he was mad at you, if he yelled and swore and tried to make you change your mind- but Jaehyun’s never been an abusive type. Instead, he holds you close, and as you softly cry on his chest, you begin to drift off to sleep.

One

Even in a crowded bar, one distant laugh makes your blood run cold. You grip your drink, heart thundering in your rib cage as you scan your surrounding area.

It’s been two years since you broke up with Jaehyun. Even so, you’d recognize his voice anywhere.

“You good?” your best friend asks, reading your change in expression.

“Yeah, I just thought I heard-” as you’re about to say his name, you spot Jaehyun. He’s leaning against the bar top, chatting with a man whose back is to you.

God, he still looks so good. 

Your chest aches, throat going dry. As you watch him, his eyes move to take in the bar. You’re quick to shift your gaze, lifting your drink to your lips to down the rest of it. 

“I need to get out of here,” you mutter.

“What? Why?” Your friend reaches for your arm, pulling you closer to check in on you.

“My ex is here.”

“Which one?”

“Which one do you think?” You let out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“Fuck.” 

“Yeah. Listen, have fun, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You hand her your empty glass, giving her one last look before you turn to head to the entrance of the bar. 

You can feel eyes on you as you push through the crowd, but you chalk it up to being paranoid. You slip through the front doors, intent on hailing a taxi. As you make it to the cement sidewalk, you hear your name behind you, and that familiar voice has your blood running cold for a second time tonight.

“Y/N?”

Your whole body freezes, and for a moment, you truly consider running. But you’ve already run from Jaehyun once before, and you don’t have it in yourself to do it again.

With a deep breath, you turn to face your ex, your first love, the man you’ve never recovered from.

“I thought that was you,” Jaehyun mutters quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stares at you.

You don’t even know what to say, so you keep your mouth shut, taking in his pretty face and the broad set of his shoulders. 

“Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have followed you,” he admits finally. “It doesn’t look like you want to talk.”

Jaehyun turns to head back inside, and your body reacts on its own accord; you grab at his arm, and it makes him stop. He looks down at your hand, wrapped around his forearm, then up at you.

“We…” you swallow thickly, “we can talk. I just… I don’t know what to say.”

“That makes two of us.” 

You drop your hand from his arm when you realize he’s not going anywhere.

“I uh…” Jaehyun clears his throat. “I got back to town a month ago. Meant to message you- but I didn’t know what to say then either.”

“You completed your program?”

“Yup. With flying colors.”

“I guess I always expected you to be a big shot and move to some other city- what are you doing back here?”

“Unfinished business… maybe.” Jaehyun dips his head, looking down at the ground. You watch him absentmindedly kick at an old cigarette butt.

He can’t be talking about you… can he?

“Anyways,” Jaehyun meets your eyes again, “how’ve you been?”

“I’ve been…” you search for the right word, “okay.” 

“Yeah? Happy?”

“Sort of. You?”

Jaehyun shrugs, offering you a lopsided smile that makes your heart ache. “Sort of. It was two years of studying. Didn’t have much time for extracurriculars, as you know.”

So your breakup is still a sore spot for him, you can sense it in his words. He’s not outwardly saying it, but… it’s there all the same. There’s something of an apology in his statement, because you do know how hard it was for him to find time for things outside of school- it had been the main reason you’d had to call things off with him.

“How about you?” he presses. “Any uh… any protective boyfriend who’s about to show up and beat my ass?”

You can’t believe he’s asking you outright about this, and the question actually makes you let out a small laugh. You shake your head. “No. No boyfriend.”

“Good. I mean… I hoped you were happy, but uh, you know, it’s nice to hear that, well, you know what I mean.” Jaehyun looks down again, and you can see his ears turning red.

It’s as clear as day that Jaehyun still cares about you. The way he’s acting tells you everything you need to know… well, almost everything.

“So…” you wrap your arms around yourself, “are you planning on leaving again? Do you know how long you’ll be in town?”

“Nothing is set in stone,” Jaehyun admits, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you. “Listen, I’m just going to say it.” He takes a deep breath, meanwhile, you can’t even breathe. “I never got over you. I mean, how could I? You’re everything, and- I understand why we broke up, I really do. But my program is over now, and if you give me another chance, I promise not to go anywhere ever again, at least, not without you right there by my side.”

“Jaehyun-”

“If you need some time to think about it, I totally get that-”

Jaehyun goes to take a step back, and you find yourself grabbing at him once more. Your body simply can’t let him go- not now, not ever again.

Your ex looks down at your hand on his forearm, and as you open your mouth to give him your response, no words come to mind. Your gaze dips to his lips, and before you know what you’re even doing, you’re moving in to kiss him.

Jaehyun is frozen in place at the initial meeting of your lips, but after a moment, you feel his body relax. His hands gently slip to your waist, tugging you closer as he slants his mouth against your own. You feel him release a small groan, and a whimper bubbles in your chest.

How many times have you dreamt of this moment? How many times have you thought about kissing Jaehyun? 

Your arms wrap around the back of his neck, and you allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of him-

Someone lets out a whistle, and you roughly pull back from Jaehyun, your eyes finding the two bouncers outside the bar, who are staring at you with wolfish grins.

“Is there somewhere we can go to talk?” Jaehyun asks, resting his forehead against your own.

“Come home with me.”

Two

It feels like deja vu to be walking into your apartment with Jaehyun. You’ve had the same unit for years- and you know it must feel even weirder for your ex to be here again after practically living here with you for half of your time in university together. 

As you toss your keys onto the entryway table, you hear a familiar meow. Your cat slinks in from the kitchen, but instead of heading to you, she immediately moves toward Jaehyun’s feet, letting out an obnoxiously loud purr as she begins to rub against him.

“Looks like Mittens hasn’t forgotten me either,” Jaehyun smiles, immediately bending down to pick up the fluffy grey and white kitty. She leans into his touch, purring like an engine as he scratches he cheeks. Her paws begin to make softies on his arm, and it makes your heart ache.

You’ve dated a few guys casually in Jaehyun’s absence, and Mittens has never liked any of them. She always was a daddy’s girl- after all, you’d started dating Jaehyun only a few months after you’d picked her up from the shelter. 

You still have pictures of the two of them on your phone, hidden in a secret file- you’d never had the heart to delete them, and as you watch their reunion, you’re glad you never did.

“She missed you,” you admit. “We both did.”

You watch Jaehyun’s Adam’s apple bob with effort, your words clearly invoking emotion. You’re quick to look away.

“Can I get you anything?” you ask, kicking off your shoes. “I had a few drinks at the bar, was planning on making a grilled cheese-”

“You still do that?” Jaehyun asks.

“Yeah.” Your throat feels dry admitting another ghost of your past you still haven’t been able to shake. “I still do that.”

Grilled cheese after a night out had always been your thing, and when you’d started dating Jaehyun, it had become his thing too. You can’t even count how many nights the two of you came home from university parties only to make a grilled cheese and collapse on your bed, giggling and kissing like kids in love.

“A grilled cheese sounds perfect,” Jaehyun says. “Thank you.”

He follows you into the kitchen. As you begin to make the late-night snack, you realize Jaehyun has no intention of putting Mittens down. She basks in his attention, letting out upset chirps any time he tries to stop petting her to help you in small ways.

Jaehyun asks you about your job, and from that, the two of you begin to talk about your lives over the past two years. It feels too natural to slip into this type of conversation. His presence is so calming and familiar- by the time you’re done making the grilled cheese for you to share, it’s almost as if the past two years never happened. 

It’s almost as if you never left him.

Almost as if he never left you first.

“Do you want to eat in here?” Jaehyun asks, heading to the small kitchen table.

“We can go to my bedroom,” you say softly. “Unless you wanted to be here.”

“Your bedroom is good.” 

He follows you through your apartment, but when you get to your room, he stops in the doorway.

“I can’t get over how little this place has changed,” he muses, looking at the layout of the space.

“Yeah,” you sit down on your bed, lifting your legs onto the mattress and setting the plate by your knee. “I guess I’m used to it like this.”

Jaehyun knows all too well how comfortable you get, how hard it is for you to make changes. You think it must be one of the reasons he never fought the breakup. If you’d gotten to the point of needing an emotional separation to deal with the physical distance, pushing you to change your mind would have only made things worse.

“Can we come sit with you?” Jaehyun asks.

“Of course.” You gesture to the mattress. “Make yourself at home, Jae.”

With a small chuckle, he comes to join you. He’s careful when he sets Mittens down, and she immediately stretches, letting out a massive yawn before coming to investigate the grilled cheese.

Jaehyun reaches for his half of the sandwich. “I missed these.”

“It’s just a grilled cheese,” you laugh.

“Yeah, but there’s something special about the way you make it. I can’t explain it.”

You can only offer him a smile as you both lift the gooey, cheesy, greasy, crispy bread to your lips. The crunch is satisfying, and Jaehyun shifts the food to his right hand so he can pet Mittens with his left. 

The two of you eat in silence, but there’s nothing uncomfortable about it. As your meal comes to a quick end, your phone begins to ring, and you stand up to answer it. “Give me a sec,” you tell him, exiting the room while Mittens rushes to follow you.

“Hey girl,” your best friend says. “You okay?”

“I’m good.”

“Seeing your ex must have been pretty hard.”

“Actually, uh…” you look toward your open bedroom door, swallowing thickly then lowering your voice, “he’s at my apartment with me.”

“What!?”

“Yeah, we’re talking things out.”

“Just talking?” You can hear the cheeky grin in her voice.

“Don’t be like that,” you laugh.

“Girl, you and that man were a dream couple. He’s the one that got away, and now he’s in your apartment- he’s probably sitting on your bed, eating grilled cheese-”

“God, stop,” you groan. “Am I that predictable?”

“Nah, it was hashtag just couple things. Okay, look, obviously you’re doing good- I was worried you were somewhere crying and drowning yourself in booze. I’ll leave you be. Say hi to him for me.”

“Will do.” You hang up, looking down at Mittens. She’s circling your feet, and with a sigh, you go to refill her food bowl. You’d given her lunch hours ago, and you feel bad that she just watched you down a grilled cheese with nothing for her own little mittens to get a hold of.

Also… your best friend knows you too well. 

Your body is reacting to Jaehyun as if there was never a separation- or maybe, your body is reacting because there was a separation. Your pulse is picking up with each step back to your bedroom, and when you close the door behind you, Jaehyun cocks a brow, finishing his grilled cheese with one last large bite.

“You good?” he asks.

“I’m great,” you tell him, approaching the bed.

“Yeah?” Jaehyun’s gaze moves to the closed door, and he offers you a dimpled grin, mischief flaring on the edges of his expression. “You locked out Mittens.”

Nothing gets past this man. You’ve never loved getting intimate while Mittens is trying to hog Jaehyun’s attention, and you shouldn’t be surprised that he got you figured out the moment you closed the door to your bedroom.

“Don’t even with me, Jae.” You sigh, collapsing onto the mattress next to him while he moves the grilled cheese plate to the side table.

“Look, I don’t want you to feel any pressure just cuz I’m here and we’re sitting on your bed-”

“Does it look like I feel pressure?” you ask, hyper-aware of the way your dress is riding up your thighs.

Jaehyun gives you a slow once-over. “I guess not.”

“You really mean what you said about not going away a second time?” You look down. “Because I don’t think I could take it if we gave this another try and three months down the line you moved cities again.” 

Your ex nods. “I promise. If you give me one more chance, I won’t let you down.”

You stare at Jaehyun for a moment, studying the sincerity on his face. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You open your arms, resting back against the pillows and spreading your legs. “Now come here.”

Jaehyun practically leaps on top of you. He slots between your thighs like he was made to be there, his mouth pressing to your own while you wrap him in a tight embrace. He kisses you like he’s been starved of your lips. 

He retains some of the gentleness that he’d exhibited outside of the club, but there’s a desperation too, you can almost taste it on him… along with the grilled cheese.

The thought makes you smile, and Jaehyun breaks the kiss to look down at you, also grinning. “What?”

“Nothing, just- I’m happy.”

“Me too,” he admits, looking down at your beaming face before he grabs your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, angling your head to the side so he can access your neck. Your ex finds your sweet spot as easily as ever, as if it hasn’t been two years since his tongue stroked this specific patch of skin and made your whole body tingle with pleasure. 

You let out a shaky sigh, threading your fingers through his hair and relaxing against the pillows.

“Don’t leave me again,” you whisper.

“Never again,” he promises, voice husky in your ear.

His hand slides down the curve of your body, grasping at your thighs and slowly pushing your dress up. Your hips move, rutting in an attempt to spur him on. When his fingers finally find your core through your panties, you swear you see stars. He begins to rub your clit, circling it as he applies more and more pressure. 

His mouth continues on your neck, and you begin to whimper from the stimulus.

You’d nearly forgotten how good it feels to be touched by someone who knows you inside and out- by someone who cares about your pleasure more than he’s ever cared about his own.

“Jae,” you whimper, breathing heavily as he rubs your core. 

“Yes, baby?” His lips are gentle along your throat, and the feather-light touch almost teases you more than a rougher one would.

“Can we skip the foreplay? I need you.”

Jaehyun’s fingers stop on your clit, and he pushes himself up on an elbow, looking down at you with a quizzical set to his brow. “Skip the foreplay?” he repeats, letting out a scoff. “Baby, I’ve been thinking about what I’d do to you if you ever gave me a second chance for over two years. We’re not skipping the foreplay.”

“But-”

“Please don’t argue with me. Just let me have this. Just let me enjoy the body I’ve missed so much. I’ve missed your sounds, the way you react to my touch-” his fingers pick up their pace on your clit again, and you let out a whine, pushing toward him again. “See? You’re perfect. No matter how many memories of this I have, nothing compares to the real thing.”

When you’d been dating Jaehyun initially, he was - for lack of a better word - pretty vanilla. This dirty talk is new, and it makes your stomach erupt into butterflies. Your mind goes practically blank, lulled into a lusty trance by the musings of a man who’s clearly bewitched by you, body and soul.

When your gaze dips down to his hand between your thighs, you notice the way his cock is straining in his pants. “Can I…” you swallow thickly, “Can I touch you too?”

“Yeah.” His mouth returns to your throat, and he pushes your panties to the side, dragging his fingers through your soaked folds. “Fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me.”

You mewl at his words, quickly fumbling with the button of his pants so you can push them down just far enough to take his cock out of his briefs. Jaehyun releases a low groan and it makes your pussy flutter as you begin to stroke him.

Your ex reacts by slipping his fingers into your core, two long digits going knuckle deep. He tests your walls, grazing your g-spot when he begins to lazily pump his hand, his palm firmly pressing to your clit.

A whimper of pleasure escapes you, and you can feel Jaehyun grin against your neck. “The prettiest sounds,” he muses. “How did you ever get this pretty?”

It’s a rhetorical question, and it makes you feel cock drunk and dumb, your chest pushing up against his own, looking for stimulus- your nipples are hard in your bralette, but you wish you were naked already, wish you could feel him better-

“Jae?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you take my dress off?”

Jaehyun pulls his hand away from your core, bringing his two wet fingers to your lips. He pushes them into your mouth, propping himself up so he can look down at you while you suck his digits clean. “I thought you’d never ask.”

You groan around his fingers, the act of sucking is turning you on more than you’d care to admit, but it ends too quickly as Jaehyun pulls his hand away.

He sits up, taking off his own shirt first. Then he reaches down to grab at the hem of your dress, slowly dragging it up your form. Jaehyun’s eyes take in each strip of newly exposed skin, and you can see the way his pupils have blown with interest.

You lift your shoulders off the bed, making it easier for him to tear the fabric off of you and toss it to the side. This leaves you in your bralette and panties, both of which you’re eager to have join your dress on the floor.

Jaehyun’s hand reaches out to cup your breast, his thumb smoothing over the pebbled nipple that’s pushing through the silky fabric. He squeezes you gently, forcing you to release a moan of pleasure. 

A moment later, he’s removing your panties, then your bra, fingers pinching at your newly exposed nipple.

Your hand, meanwhile, returns to his cock- only for Jaehyun to grab at your wrist, pulling you away.

You’re about to ask what’s wrong, but then Jaehyun turns your hand palm up, and he spits into the center of it, bringing it back to his cock. 

There’s no way that action should have been as sexy as it was- your core throbbing as you begin to stroke his rock-hard length. 

With one last lustful look at your body, Jaehyun settles over top of you again, his mouth seeking out your breasts while you pump his cock. The feeling of his tongue flicking against you has you crying out, pushing your chest toward his mouth. His teeth graze over your sensitive nipple and you respond by applying more pressure to his cock.

Jaehyun groans loudly, rutting his hips into your hand, which stills so you can allow him to fuck your palm. He continues to worship your breasts while his hips do most of the work, and you surrender yourself to the pleasurable scenario you’ve found yourself in.

“You know…” Jaehyun presses another kiss to your nipple, “I was going to ask you to sit on my face, but… it’s hard being this close to your pretty pussy and not just… slipping it in.”

“Yeah?” You guide his cock closer to your core, so that when he ruts his hips, the tip of his cock glides through your soaked folds. “Then just do it.”

“Here I was, saying not to skip the foreplay- but here I am, giving in to you like always.” 

Jaehyun releases a laugh, and it makes you giggle along with him, because it’s true. Jaehyun may have this sexy, devil-may-care attitude, but he’s always been a total simp for you. 

He was completely wrapped around your finger when you first met, and he’s completely wrapped around your finger now. It’s interesting how so much can change, and so little can change at the same time. 

“You just feel so good,” Jaehyun groans, thrusting again, the tip of his pretty pink flushed cock just slipping inside of you- 

“Fuck, Jae, please-” you push your chest up toward his face again, pumping his length, trying to guide him deeper-

He brings his mouth to your own, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss as he sheaths himself into your wet core.

You let out a low whine, wrapping your legs around his hips and releasing his cock in favor of grabbing his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck-” Jaehyun moans, staying still inside of you while your walls pulse around his shaft. “Missed this perfect pussy, baby.”

“Missed your perfect cock,” you retort, tangling your fingers in his soft hair and drawing him in for another kiss.

His tongue clashes against your own, his hands finding your hips so he can steady himself as he begins to rut into you. 

You love getting lost in him. You can feel your mind slipping away, your body giving into its primal instincts as Jaehyun makes love to you the way he has so many times before.

One of his hands finds your own, taking it from his shoulder and lacing your fingers above you, pressing you into the pillow. He breaks the kiss to look down at you, breathing heavily.

“There’s so much I’ve wanted to say,” Jaehyun admits.

“Then say it,” you urge him, cupping his cheek with your free hand.

He nuzzles against your palm, closing his eyes for a moment while he enjoys your touch. “I’ve missed everything about you. You’ve been on my mind every day for two years.”

Your heart aches.

“It’s more than just the sex, and you know it. I’ve missed holding you,” he squeezes your hand, “missed sleeping next to you. Missed late-night talks and grilled cheese. Missed your laugh and the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Missed the way you cry at sad parts in movies-”

As he talks, the pace of his thrusts gets faster, and you find it harder and harder not to moan like a whore and interrupt his cute little speech about missing you. 

In fact, it’s hard to even keep your eyes open, but your gaze is caught in his own. Jaehyun’s staring into your soul, baring himself to you like a man who’s brought all his walls down. 

“I love you,” Jaehyun says gruffly, “I’ve never stopped loving you. Not for one single day. It’s you, and it’s always been you.”

Your stomach muscles clench at his admission, orgasm bubbling to the surface fast from the combination of his movements and his words.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he assures you, licking his lips. “Just rub your clit and let me feel your perfect pussy clench around me as you cum, that will be answer enough.”

With a loud whine, you throw your head back against the pillow, threading your free hand between your bodies. The first touch of your fingers on your clit has you throbbing already, and you release a gasp.

“That’s it, baby,” Jaehyun coos, lips finding your throat. “Just like that.”

“Jae-”

“I know, I know you’re close- must be pent up like me, right? We’re both going to cum way too fast, but that’s okay, we have all the time in the world to enjoy each other- the way I’m going to eat your perfect pussy for breakfast tomorrow morning-”

Your core pulses at the thought, and you rub your clit harder.

“Gonna let go for me, right, baby? I’m so close, want you to cum with me.”

“I’m there-” you tell him, shivering as he licks the sweet spot on your throat. ‘Fuck, Jae-”

“You want me to cum inside right? You’re still on the-”

“Cum inside,” you interrupt him. “God, fuck, please- need you to fill me up-”

Jaehyun groans, squeezing your hand again. His lips move from your neck to your mouth, and your tongues clash in a breathless, moan-filled frenzy, your orgasms just out of reach-

One more whimpered “please” out of you has Jaehyun moaning, his high crashing into him. You can feel him filling you up with his cum, and it triggers your own orgasm. A gasp escapes you, your sensitive nipples pressing against his chiseled chest-

You can feel him everywhere. He’s all-consuming. You completely let go, sounds uninhibited, pussy throbbing harder than it has in the past two years. 

Jaehyun fucks you through it, until you’re both sweaty, gasping messes. Then he collapses on top of you, giving your captured hand one last squeeze before adjusting. He rolls off of you just enough to tuck you close to his chest, hand finding your hair and beginning to pet you.

You can hear the racing of his heart as he catches his breath.

As you come down from your high, you feel a welling of emotion bubbling inside of you. You’re shocked when a tear rolls down your cheek, and you’re quick to brush it away. Jaehyun notices the movement and tilts his head to assess you.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “I’m just…. I’m happy, and I missed you a lot.”

“Baby,” Jaehyun’s fingers draw pretty nothings on your back, “I promise I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! I've been reading a lot of shorter smut fics recently, and after doing such a big kick-off in January, I wanted to try a shorter piece again, and challenge myself with a little angst :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. “Listen, I promised myself I wasn't going to cum in or on you tonight - you know, seeing as you’re my wife tomorrow and I don’t want to disrespect you - but since you’re begging for it,” Jaehyun slips the tip of his cock inside of you, only to pull away, “I guess I can settle for cumming on your ass, but only if we shower together after.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, creampie, pussy eating champ Jae, pussy worship, fingering, 69, blow job, hand job, deep throating, gentle choking, begging, dirty talk, slight cum kink/mentions of exhibitionism,  finger sucking, multiple reader orgasms, etc…   I petnames. (hers) baby. 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.1k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 starring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

bonus

Since you got back with Jaehyun over a year ago, the two of you haven’t been separated for longer than twelve hours, but tomorrow is the day of your wedding, and there are certain traditions about the bride and groom staying apart- so here you are, cuddled on a couch in your hotel room, missing your fiance.

When your phone rings and Jaehyun’s pretty face shows up as the contact on your screen, you fumble over yourself to pause your movie and answer it. “Jae?”

“Hey, baby. What room are you in again?”

You think about it for a moment. You’d never actually told him where you’re staying in the hotel… “Why do you want to know?”

“Maybe I wanna send my fiance flowers before our wedding tomorrow.” 

God, why’s he so charming?

You give him your room number without a second thought, hanging up with an ‘I love you.’ 

Five minutes later, there’s a knock at the door, and you open it to find Jaehyun standing there with a massive dimpled grin on his face, and a vase of flowers in his hands. “Hi, baby.”

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general taglist

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thank you to those who interacted with the teaser :)

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[cheapshrimpysheep]

I read the rules and I hope I'm not doing something against them! I have a cute request... Headconan with the Pomefiore trio (Vil, Rook, Epel Separately) and a female reader who was tasked with taking care of a newborn for a day (I didn't think whose child is this honestly lol I just liked the idea.) and she ask them to help her :3

COMMENTS: I liked the idea! The only problem is that I have 0 experience with children, let alone babies. 😅 So I asked a friend of mine who has taken care of newborns to help me, and she did such a good job that I ended up writing more than I expected. 💜

I hope you and all enjoy it 👶

CHARACTERS: Pomefiore (Vil Schoenheit / Epel Felmier / Rook Hunt)

TAGS: Fluff; Fem Reader; Headcanons; Flirting

WORD COUNT: An average of 680 words per character.

CONTEXT: You hear someone knocking on the door of Ramshackle Dorm and when you open it you find Professor Trein holding in his arms, not Lucius, but a baby.

He explains to you that one of his daughters showed up to visit him and the island, but she needed to do something and asked Professor Trein to take care of his grandson for a while. But Professor Trein still has work to do and can't take care of the baby at the same time, so he asks you to take care of him for a day until his daughter comes back.

He also tells you that if you need help, ask Pomefiore's students as they are some of the ones he trusts most.

“Me? Help take care of a baby? I have never done such a thing. Why would you ask me for help? I'm sure someone with younger siblings would be more qualified for-” Vil is interrupted by the baby who started crying in your arms. He sighs. “Sorry, I shouldn't have spoken that way. May I?”

Vil stretches his arms to ask you to hand him the baby. Despite saying he had no experience with children, he picks up the baby with incredible delicacy.

“You're right, you're right. I shouldn't speak so harshly in front of you.” He says in the sweetest voice you've ever heard from him, as he rocks a little and smiles at the baby. The baby starts to calm down and looks at Vil's face in amazement.

“Someone has good taste.” He chuckles, then looks at you. “Very well, I'll help you. But only because this is Professor Trein's grandson. However, I'm also curious to see how you do on this task.”

Whenever the baby starts crying for some reason, Vil is always very calm about it. No matter how many failed attempts to understand what the baby needs, he will never show any kind of frustration. At least not near the baby.

If the baby is crying because he has a dirty diaper: The first time this happens, Vil will ask you to change it so he can see how it's done. And if it happens again he will offer to do it that time. The two of you will take turns whenever this happens afterwards.

If the baby is crying because he is hungry and needs a bottle, Vil will offer to prepare the milk in the healthiest way for a baby. But he will ask you to be the one to feed the baby.

While you give the baby a bottle, Vil will watch you. Not to check if you are doing it correctly, but to enjoy the sight of you doing it. You can't read minds, so he can imagine that this is your beautiful baby as much as he wants. If you look at him, he will simply smile at you.

If the baby is crying because he is sleepy and Vil offers to try to rock him, you will see him standing and rocking gently while singing a lullaby with his beautiful voice. He will look at you at some point and smirk at your admiring gaze. “You and this baby are lucky.” He will whisper after the baby falls asleep. “I have never sung exclusively for anyone.”

If you rock the baby and sing him a lullaby, Vil will look at you with admiration and affection. And if, by chance, you are singing a song that he knows, he will join you and the two of you will sing together. He will even get closer to you and in the end you will see the baby sleeping in your arms and between the two of you. Vil will smile smugly and whisper to you: “Be careful if you brag about this to anyone. There are people who would kill to be in your place.”

While the baby is sleeping, the two of you will try to entertain yourself in quiet ways. Vil will continue with his usual routines if he can and make you join him. Any beauty treatments he does like skin care, he will do them to you too.

If the baby is crying because he is simply in need of some affection, you will probably be the person in charge of that. Vil will see you talking to the baby, hugging him and giving him little kisses on the cheek, maybe even talking to him in that baby voice.

Vil will start to daydream about you, imagining you taking care of his and your child. And he will smile thinking about it. Entertaining the baby will be your job. Let's face it, you're probably more fun than Vil in this regard.

If you are in a flirting phase with each other, he will approach you, hug you from behind while you hold the baby in your arms and whisper in your ear: “You would be a wonderful mother. And I know that our children would be the fairest of all.”

“You're in luck. I already had to take care of my cousin a few times when he was a newborn, so I have some type of experience at least.” Epel tells you half confident, half fearful.

Even though he wants to convey confidence, you can see that he holds the baby tensely, as if he were holding a very expensive piece of glass and was afraid of breaking it.

When the baby starts crying he immediately gets worried because there are a multitude of reasons why the baby could be crying and you both just have to guess what it is.

He will always interact with the baby with a smile, but the more failed attempts to understand what the baby needs, the more frustrated he will become and it will reach a point where he will grab you by the arm and say in despair: "WHAT DOES HE WANT?!"

If the baby is crying because he has a dirty diaper, Epel will say: "Oh, I've already changed my cousin's diapers a few times, I can take care of that."

If the baby is crying because he is hungry and needs a bottle, Epel will help you prepare the milk for the bottle.

If Epel is the one giving the baby a bottle, you will see him sitting on the sofa focusing on the baby in his arm and on the bottle. At first his expression is almost serious, but as soon as he becomes more comfortable you see him smiling at the baby. “Wow, for someone so little you have a big appetite, don't you? Heh heh.”

If you are the one giving the baby the bottle, Epel will look at you while you are distracted with the baby. If you look at him, he will look away and you will see him blushing slightly because of the things he was thinking.

If the baby is crying because he is sleepy and Epel offers to try to rock him, you will see him standing and rocking gently while singing a lullaby from his homeland with that dialect that you only understand half the words. And you will hear him sing with that sweet voice he has.

If you rock the baby and sing him a lullaby, Epel will look at you with admiration and affection. And if, by chance, you are singing a song that he knows, he will join you and the two of you will sing together. He will even get closer to you and in the end you will see the baby sleeping in your arms and between the two of you. Epel will blush and turn away.

While the baby is sleeping, the two of you will try to entertain yourself in quiet ways. Good chance he'll start carving some apples for you.

If the baby is crying because he is simply in need of some affection, you will probably be the person in charge of that. Epel will see you talking to the baby, hugging him and giving him little kisses on the cheek, maybe even talking to him in that baby voice.

Epel will start to daydream about you, but he won't even dream of telling you anything about it. Eventually, he may join you in making the baby happy.

“You are asking me for help with taking care of a baby? BEAUTÉ! Oh, what a wonderful experience to go through with you of all people! ... If I have any experience with babies? Absolutely none! Isn't that exciting?” He says with an enthusiastic smile and not at all worried, unlike you.

The first time he asks to hold the baby, you may even be reluctant to let him do it. “Protective already?” He smiles at you in admiration. “Indeed, there is no more beautiful and inspiring power in nature than the fierce protection of a mother. Or of any woman over a child. I am so extremely lucky to be able to see this side of you.”

But if you eventually let him hold the baby, you will see him take great care when holding him. And looking at the baby with an extremely affectionate look. “To think that we all started out in this world so fragile. La beauté de la nature.”

When the baby starts crying he will be...excited about it? He genuinely enjoys having to figure out what the baby needs and failing in his attempts. “Oh, we haven't figured it out yet? What could it be?” He says smiling.

If the baby is crying because he has a dirty diaper: The first time this happens, Rook will ask you to change it so he can see how it's done. He can learn and appreciate you at the same time. And if it happens again he will gladly offer to do it that time. The two of you will take turns whenever this happens afterwards.

If the baby is crying because he is hungry and needs a bottle, Rook will help you prepare the milk for the bottle.

Just like with diapers, the first time this happens Rook will ask you to be the one to give the bottle to the baby so he can see how it’s done. However, he learns quickly in the first few seconds. The rest of the time he will simply enjoy the sight of you doing it. And if you look at him, he won't look away, you'll see him looking at you with an extremely admiring and affectionate look, and smiling at you with a slight blush on his face.

After that, if it happens again, Rook will gladly offer to be the one to give the baby the bottle this time. You will see him sitting on the sofa, smiling while focus on the baby in his arm, at least in the beginning. As he begins to feel more comfortable, you will see his shoulders relax. If he looks at you and sees you looking at him with a certain kind of affection, he will smile broadly.

If the baby is crying because he is sleepy,  Rook will immediately offer to sing a lullaby to him. But he will teach it to you first in case you don't know, so you can sing it together. Rook will ask you to be the one holding the baby. You can see that he feels more protected and relaxed with you (I wonder why). As you sing, Rook will focus on you while you focus on the baby.

While the baby is sleeping, Rook's attention will remain focused on you. He will join you for any activity you want to do to entertain yourself.

If the baby is crying because he is simply in need of some affection, Rook will try to fulfill this role, but even for a baby his love seems to be too much, and the baby starts to struggle in his arms because he wants you to be the one to give him affection. Rook will be a little sad that he was rejected so brutally honestly, but will be very happy to see you making the baby happy. However, he will continue to help in any way he can.

Rook will see you talking to the baby, hugging him and giving him little kisses on the cheek, maybe even talking to him in that baby voice. And he will start to daydream about you. “You truly are a source of light and comfort. It's impossible not to be captivated by you and this baby is proof of that.”

If you are in a flirting phase with each other, he will go deeper with his praises. “Any child of yours will be deeply fortunate to have you as a mother.” He will come closer to you and whisper to you. “And I wonder if I would have such a privilege to be by your side to raise them. Maybe even help you make them. And see how wonderful it would be to see the two of us together as one... or more.”

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Sunday, Boothill, Welt, Gallagher, Blade, and Dan Heng react to his gn s/o asking him randomly if they can hug him in private?

Sunday: adheres to your every want and need without complaint.

He’d easily have a room cleared for you within seconds and make it known that no one should dare disrupt his ‘meeting’ with you, unless it was absolutely necessary.

And even then he’s the one making the final decision on whether or not the issue at hand was really worth his time and resources; which for most of the time they weren’t.

Sunday would more than likely make private hugs a thing in the future. He knew how busy he was and how little time that gives him with you that he felt as though somethings had to change as a result; Also it acted as the perfect guise for him to keep an close eye on you as you held onto him tightly.

He’s selfish and greedy with you and your affection and will take it whenever he felt necessary. Sunday was a hoarder in his own right but mainly with you and who he was forced to share you with because if Sunday had it his way, you’d never leave the room nor his arms unless he said so.

Boothill:

Smirking bastard this one.

Despite the fact that -apart from his face- he couldn’t actually feel anything, he wasn’t one to ignore you wanting to hug him because of it.

He, much like Gallagher, is the kind who’d thoughtfully enjoy just spending the day having you in his arms as having you close was his remedy for almost everything.

However he would be the type to tickle your sensitive spots for the fun of it, and getting to hear your squeals of excitement followed by the sound of your laughter as it makes him happy seeing you happy from something he did.

Does he hate that he can’t feel you against him? Yes.

Will he try to squeeze you closer in a desperate attempt to feel you, even if it that if was faint? Also yes. He just hoped that he could one day trick himself into thinking that he could feel you, but he spent too long coming to terms with that fact that he had lost that ability long ago.

But he keeps this all as far away from you as possible and decided to focus on the warmth your smile brings him instead to compensate.

Welt:

Is more than willing in giving you a hug.

He might think that something was wrong and that you needed some privacy so that you could confess to him your worries in confidence.

So upon arriving somewhere void of anyone and anything, Welt would ask if there was something that you wanted to get off your chest, only for you to tell him that you just wanted to hug him without having so many eyes on you when doing so.

Welt, being the most understand man ever, completely understands where your coming from and would let you hug him for as long as your heart wished. For he simply wanted you to feel as though he was there for you, regardless of how silly or stupid you might think your issues were, he wanted you to know that someone cared and that someone was him.

You’d probably end up sleeping him his arms as he was just so comfortable to be pressed up against and warm. Welt would find himself staring at you for far longer than he probably should, smiling dopily, before helping you to his room or yours where he would soon fall asleep also.

Dan heng;

Isn’t that great with PDA but is more expressive of his emotions behind closed doors. So the moment you asked for him to give you a hug in private, Dan Heng was more than willing to oblige.

After all he’s more prone to giving you affection and sweet words when you were away from everyone else. Not to say that he doesn’t shows that he cares for you in front of other people, but it would probably be a small group of people you both know, whom Dan Heng would feel comfortable with showing that side of himself towards.

Other than that rare expedition, most -if not- all affection was reserved for when you two were alone together.

His inner dragon noodle thrives off of your affection and warmth to the point where Dan Heng becomes flustered and embarrassed by it. You on the other hand thought it was extremely cute that he softly purrs when you burrow yourself into his arms.

‘You’re purring.’ You’d muse, kissing under his jaw.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Dan Heng says, face extremely flustered as the sound of his purrs continued.

He may not be all that vocal but he didn’t need to when his body told you everything you needed to know in the moment. He loved spending quieter moments with you and holding you close as it gave him his much needed reassurance that you very much appreciated him still. That he still had a purpose in your life to fulfil.

Gallagher:

Will agree within a heartbeat because any time with you is time well spent in his opinion.

He may or may not use you as an excuse to have the day off, just so he could hold you for the rest of the day, to the point it might as well become a cuddle session.

Give him any opportunity to cuddle and be lazy with you? Count. Him. In.

Also he’d probably would bite you at random points but you were made more then aware of this habit of his. So you’ve had enough time to make your peace with that fact, unfortunately you were also left with the unenviable position of having to explain why you were covered in bite marks, but that’s neither here nor there.

Gallagher would more than gladly spend the rest of his day with you in his arms no matter what and you weren’t one to argue with him as he was practically a walking furnace, and he made for an comfortable pillow on top of that too. Not to mention that he -in general- smelt amazing, which may or may not have been a primary cause for you to somehow manage to fall asleep in his arms a hundred percent of the time.

Blade:

Blade only accepts to hug you in utter privacy because PDA isn’t his thing. So at first he might not seem at all interested in giving you a hug, but the moment you mentioned that you’d want the hug in private, Blade grunted as he grabbed your arm and dragged you elsewhere from prying eyes.

‘This should work.’ He’d then say to himself before looking back at you and raising an eyebrow. ‘Well?’

‘Well what?’ You ask.

‘Aren’t you going to hug me?’ He relies.

‘Well you never really agreed to be hugged, you just grunted and dragged me here so…’ you trailed off as you were then brought against his chest as his arms kept your in place.

The hug itself was stiff, rigid and was a little awkward but all you have to do was practice a little patience and soon you’d feel him slowly start to relax under your touch. He’s not the type whom people feel as though they could come to him for affection or comforting, affirming words because that’s just not Blade, and he will agree to this also for it not being his forte.

For you however, Blade will try to compensate for those shortcomings by any means necessary. He doesn’t try for others nor put in the effort because why would he when it would ultimately amount to nothing?

but you? His partner? He genuinely tries but is secretly happy when you show compassion as to he just can’t.

[thatgenericwriter]

The Fake Boyfriend || Gregory House

Paring: Dr. Gregory House x fem!reader

Summary: When a creepy dude starts hitting on you in the hospital you go to the closest person for help

Warnings: catcalling and gross men

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"Hey sexy!" You turn to look at who's getting catcalled. Not finding any women looking uncomfortable. Actually, not finding anyone around you at all. No one but a creepy dude who is actively walking closer and closer to you.

'.....oh shit!' You turn around and start walking faster to the cafeteria doors. You pray that there's somebody in there that can help you.

"Hey pretty lady! Why are you walking away from all of this?" You shudder in disgust and start walking even faster to the now approaching cafeteria doors.

You can feel him getting even closer to you. And you're practically running by the time you open the doors to the cafeteria. Quickly scanning the room you spot two men sitting at one of the tables.

Praying that this works you turn around to confront the gross man who has now made it inside the cafeteria with you.

"Please leave me alone sir. I have a boyfriend and he's sitting right over there." You tell this man while gesturing to the men behind you.

"Yeah sure you do why don't you go over there and prove it." You take a deep breath as you hoped he wouldn't ask this. But letting out a shaky exhale you turn around and walk towards the table with the two men.

You hear him walking behind you, and as you get closer you can tell that these two men are actually doctors at this hospital.

"Hey sorry I'm late honey! Traffic was crazy getting here! I hope I didn't miss all of your lunch break." You slide in next to the closest guy to you. Which happened to be a ruff looking man in a suit. And as you took a second closer look you noticed the cane that he had under the table.

You give the two men a pleading look before turning back to the catcaller beside the table. "See I told you my boyfriend was here. So now will you please leave me alone."

You can tell that the two men now understand what's happening. The guy sitting across from you sits up straighter and has a more threatening look on his face. And the man that you had sat by lazily puts his arm around you and pulls you in to him more.

"This cripple is your boyfriend? Baby girl I could please you better than this man ever could." You felt the man's arm wrap around you tighter as this creep said this.

"Are you sure about that? Because I make a killer lasagna!" The man across from you rolls his eyes at the other man's comment before turning to look at the creep.

"Sir if you do not leave my friend's girlfriend alone I will have you personally escorted out of this hospital, and then make sure that you never step foot in this hospital again." This got the creepy man to scoff and roll his eyes before making an off handed comment about you not even being hot enough to be worth all this trouble. Before turning around and leaving the cafeteria.

As soon as the door shut behind him you let out a breath of air that you have been holding in, and relax into your seat before turning and looking at the two men that just saved you.

"I am so sorry for interrupting you guys! But also thank you so much for saving me from that creep."

The friendly looking man across from you tells you that it's no problem and that they were happy to help before introducing himself to you.

"I'm Dr. James Wilson and my lovely friend over there is Dr. Gregory House." You tell them your name and before you know it you're having a pleasant conversation with them. Well mostly with Wilson with house butting in with a sarcastic quick every now and again. But a pleasant conversation nonetheless.

That is until Wilson's pager goes off. He apologizes to both of you before leaving the cafeteria briskly. But not before sending a not so subtle wink to House. And that's when you realize that House has yet to take his arm off of your shoulders.

"I should also get going. My niece should be done with her test by now and I've got to get her home." You quickly scribble your number on one of the napkins on the table with a pin from your purse before sliding it over to House.

"Here's my number just in case you want to save me from anymore creepy men." You get up, after House removes his arm from around you, and grab your bag to start leaving.

You're halfway to the door before you hear house talking from behind you. "It's true you know!"

This stops you in your tracks as you turn back around to face House. "What?" You asked bewildered.

"It's true that I make a great lasagna. How about you come over to my place tomorrow night and prove me right." You give him a little smirk before nodding your head and agreeing.

You turn around again and are almost out the cafeteria doors before you hear House talking once again. "I'll text you the deets!" You shake your head in amusement before letting the door shut fully behind you and walking to the elevator to go get your niece.

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Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed my first house fic!

[madamechrissy]

Fractured Desires

ꕥ Pairings: Suguru Geto x Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader It's a mess tbh lol

ꕥ Warnings-MDNI-explicit sexual content, Satoru Gojo is a mean little shit, there will be a lot of threesomes/ foursomes/ complicated shit and some infidelity and confusion. There is some physical description of the readers height/body, don't read if too unimmersive for you. Angst and smut and yandere Gojo behavior. In this chapter- Toxic Asshole Gojo, and toxicc hoe Geto

ꕥ Word Count this chap- 8.7k

ꕥ Summary- You meet Suguru Geto at your work, he is charming, gorgeous, and wants an open relationship. You jump in, and you all share women and have way too much fun. But then it's starting to get serious between you, official even. He can't wait to have you meet his best friend. But... Satoru Gojo hates you. The minute you meet. He gives you no reason, but he's nasty to you, no matter what you try. Suguru finally has enough of Satoru being so mean and brings up the idea - 'let's have you two fuck this frustration out'

Satoru hates you because deep down wants to make you his. He doesn't understand how Suguru could ever want anyone but you. Though it's a bad idea, he agrees to share you with Suguru for a chance at you and... The moment he touches you... Rules are bent and broken, Suguru develops feelings for another girl, and Satoru gets further obsessed with you. Nothing is as it seemed. Will everyone get hurt?

Masterlist

ꕥChapter 1 ꕥ

Satoru's POV

Satoru Gojo hates you. No, he really hates you.

As Suguru and you walk in, hand in hand, and he sees your pretty eyes all lit up, he realizes he despises you more than anything. Hates how you smile at him, how you look at Suguru so adoringly, he really hates how positive and sweet you are, especially to him, when he’s a dick to you.

Why don’t you stop? Just be a bitch back or something, be real with him, but no, you’re perfect aren’t you? Just a perfect girl, beautiful, though he doesn’t find you attractive, no way . Even though he can see every curve in that dress you wear, your lush breasts swaying (because why can’t you wear a bra) your hips swaying, your little waist where it juts in.

You have a gorgeous body, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care your skin glows, and your cheeks get pink. He hates that. He hates every bit of you, as you stand there, so tiny compared to Suguru and him, so tiny he could throw you. Tiny and evil. Sure you’ve been nothing but nice but he knows you’re awful somewhere in there, because who can be so sweet?

As you bounce in his office, holding a little envelope that was pink just like the dress you wore (god you’re so girly, you annoy him that way too) Satoru Gojo just scowls at you, then looks to Suguru. Suguru looks like a puppy so in love with you already, and how, it hadn’t been that long had it…

“Happy birthday, Gojo!” You beam at him, coming to his desk and leaning forward, hugging him around his neck. He tenses then.

Your collarbone is so inviting and delicate, right against his face, as your breasts are soft on his own chest, the weight of them so intoxicating. You smell so sweet, like cherry blossoms, he hates that, hates you. He hates how much his arms itch to wrap back, how much his hands want to slide up your back, grip those pretty tits that are killing him.

Fuck he hates you.

“Ahem…” You awkwardly step back as he just sits there, and he glares at you, making your pretty face fall for a moment.

Good.

Your POV

“Sorry, got carried away. I am so excited to give you this gift!” You hand him the pink envelope, and Suguru comes closer, leaning on Satoru’s desk and smirking.

“Open it baby boy.” Suguru teases, and Satoru rolls his pretty blue eyes.

“A gift would be not having to see you.” He says tersely, glaring at you then, and how did someone so stunning and beautiful look at you so mean . For what?

You tense then, and Suguru has a glare on his handsome face, coming to wrap an arm around your waist gently but assuredly. His big hand is warm on your hip, and you watch Satoru’s bright blue eyes hone in on them like a hawk. Suguru leans forward and presses his lips against your temple, firm hot lips that you adored, and you instantly relax.

“Satoru, she’s just trying to be nice, could you please just try not to be such a colossal dick?” Suguru asks calmly, and Satoru lowers his gaze back to the envelope again.

Satoru Gojo hates you. You don’t know why.

You’ve been dating Suguru for only three months, so not a very long time, but you’d known him for a little longer, he’d come into the club you work at on the weekends, and would sit at the bar and talk to you. Until one night you got the hint, and did go home with him, and fuck if it wasn’t the best decision. Suguru Geto was absolutely amazing in every way possible.

You both had fallen into an easy situation-ship, as Suguru was very open sexually, and though you weren’t at first, he made it fun. You were bisexual, so you all started just having fun together with a couple gorgeous girls, and fuck Suguru was superb in bed too. The thoughts alone make you tremble.

You all ended up developing feelings and deciding to be together, and exclusively date even if you all had fun in the room, you both promised to only ‘date’ each other. It was weird, and not common, but it seemed to work. You loved watching Suguru get pleased by another woman, and he loved to watch you get pleased.

Even though he hadn’t said he loved you, you had let it slip during one particular love making session alone together. Definitely had to do with Suguru’s tongue honestly. He had said he needed some time, which was fine with you, because Suguru treated you like some queen.

He took care of you, he was there for you, shit he spoiled you honestly. Though he was with other women sexually, he only dated you, and he’d even offered to bring a guy in the bedroom. But you weren’t sure about that sort of thing, with a guy.

When you’d met his best friend, and fuck you’d been so excited, Suguru talked him up like he was amazing, he clearly adored him, so much so you wondered if they were together together, perhaps in the past. Suguru brought up that they'd shared women and everything, and of course when you saw Satoru Gojo your heart had faltered.

He was beautiful, this tall white haired man with a perfect face and baby blue eyes, the yin to Suguru’s yang. Both of them were the most gorgeous men you’d seen. Suguru had talked so much about how Satoru was just the absolute best person, how he would adore you, because Suguru did. Bright and funny, and a loyal friend, almost like family.

Welp.

The Satoru Gojo you met was mean . Nasty. He looked at you like you were something disgusting to him, and he had not once smiled your way, and you have absolutely no clue what you’ve done. You have tried everything, to the point Suguru has brought up not hanging out with him as much, but you never want to ruin a friendship, and you insist he keeps trying.

But no matter what, any time you were around, Satoru had nothing nice to say, no he had mean things to say. Sometimes so cruel Suguru and him would fight, and Satoru would sort of apologize, once Suguru backed off hanging out with him. Which was hard, since they work together in the same building, both running the same damn company together.

You hate that you come between them.

“Yeah, yeah… my birthday is tomorrow.” He slides a silver letter opener to tear open the envelope then.

“She wanted to give it to you today.”

“Hmm… holy fuck!” He runs a hand through his silky white hair, as his full lips part in a gasp, staring at the tickets. “This is front and center for the game tomorrow!? How, these are sold out!?”

“I got them last month. Suguru brought up how much you love going to those games and I got a deal on them.” You say, and Suguru smiles down at you, looking so handsome, you brush back his long locks, kissing his cheek and giggling.

“Knew he’d love it.” Suguru murmurs, and you get just a bit of hope, until Satoru pulls the tickets out.

“Three?” He says haughtily, glaring those ridiculously pretty blue eyes up at you then, blinking those spiky white lashes. You sigh.

“Yeah, I thought we could all go? If that’s okay!” You wring your hands nervously in front of you.

“Of course it’s okay, right Satoru?”

“Can I take someone else?” He asks, and you feel your chest tighten. Suguru opens his mouth, brows low over his brown eyes, but you stop him.

“Um, it’s your gift. Of course you can. I didn’t mean to impose.” He sighs, rolling his eyes, leaning back in the big black office chair and thrumming his fingers on the mahogany desk like he’s bored.

“You don’t care? You bought them, and a pretty penny I bet.” You just blink back that emotion, smiling brightly, earning a scowl.

“It’s your gift and I shouldn’t have been so sure you’d want me to go. So of course, but please take Suguru.”

“Babe-”

“It’s fine!”

“Oh I’ll take Suguru.” He smirks, and it’s a nasty one, too nasty to be on such a pretty face, as he eyes your body up and down. “Think I’ll invite a really pretty girl, someone banging hot.”

You tense at his words, and Suguru does too. “Yeah, what now? As if she’s not drop dead gorgeous, please fuck all the way off. You can dislike her but don’t lie.”

You’re bright red, and barely held in tears make your vision blur as Satoru casually assesses you. “Mmm… she’s okay I guess. I meant actually hot.”

“I’m just gonna go.” You whisper then, trembling as he so casually douses the small bit of self esteem you have, the one that Suguru had helped you with.

“Apologize, now, because you know it’s bullshit. I know you stare at her so cut the shit.” Suguru’s voice gets dark, deep and authoritative, and Satoru frowns then.

“I didn’t say she’s ugly or something. As if that matters to her .”

“I’m right here, you know.” You cut in then, tilting your chin up, and Satoru stands up then, hands in his pockets.

“All right, surely you know the caliber of women I get. How do you stack up, short stuff?” He is right in front of you, bent down, and your tears escape, just two of them, but you quickly blink and look down.

“Satoru, I swear to fucking-”

“It’s fine, Suguru.” You whisper, swiping at your eyes then facing him, the man who so casually says you’re basically unattractive. “I’m sure you get much prettier women than me. I don’t think I’m very pretty, by the way.”

He glares then, a snarl on his lips. “You’re full of shit, I know you think you’re hot shit, I see it in the way you act, the way you walk.”

“You don’t know shit. You don’t know anything about me. You can call me ugly all the fuck you want but don’t pretend to know who I am inside.” He blinks his white lashes, leaning back a bit and opening his mouth.

“Baby…”

“I didn’t say you’re ugly, I just…”

“Said I’m nothing like girls you get. Said I’m not hot.”

“You’re not hot to me.”

“Good, I shouldn’t be! I’m not your girlfriend.”

“Well thank god I can’t imagine having to wake up and look at that face in the morning.” You back up then, and the tears do flow, and for just a moment you see Satoru’s face fall, as if maybe he realized how horrible he is.

But too late, you just want to leave.

“Satoru I’m fucking done, you- baby don’t go.” You shake your head as he holds on to you.

“I’ll leave and stop ruining your day. Have a good birthday, Gojo.” You murmur, and he opens his lips to say something, but you cut him off with a wave of your hand, leaning up to kiss Suguru then. “I overstepped.”

“You didn’t, he’s being-”

“Text me later.” He reaches for you but you turn and walk out the door, your chest heaving, trying not to show tears so embarrassingly in the busy office, struggling to just catch a breath.

Satoru’s POV

“I’m not going with you. I’m so fucking done. You’ve been a dick but this is too far even for you.” Suguru shoves Satoru then, and Satoru starts to hate himself, more than he already has been lately.

“She knows she’s gorgeous, she just wants attention.”

“You have no clue what she does or doesn’t know. When I met her she was so down on herself, it’s taken a lot just to get her to feel pretty, now you go and fuck that up for her.”

Satoru pauses, lips tensing as they are pressed together, and he sees you walk out of the office from the window, and when he sees you it hurts his heart. Your hands are in your face as if you’re crying into them, and that little pink dress and your long hair are flowing in the wind, you look like some painting out there, so perfect and tiny in the big city.

Fuck.

“I was just trying to get a rise-”

“She spent so much money on those. Just for you to maybe not hate her, and what do you do, make her cry? I’m done.”

“Suguru… I just didn’t think that someone who looks like that…”

“Like what?”

“She’s beautiful and yes I know she is. Not blind. How does she not know she is?” Satoru runs a hand through his silvery hair, and Suguru glares.

“So instead of saying that you make up some bullshit? Not like the girls you get!? She’s prettier than anyone you’ve fucked.”

Satoru lets out a dejected sigh. “Yeah. I know.”

“Then what… what the fuck is your problem! What has she ever done? She even tells me to hang out with you when I don’t want to.”

Satoru pauses. “She does?”

“Yeah, she sure does, or I wouldn’t talk to you aside from business. She pleads your case as you down her, trash her. I know it’s only been a few months, but she is important to me.” Satoru’s heart hurts, as he looks back out the window, and of course you’re gone, probably still crying because of him.

And he’d lied right to your face.

You believed him, too.

How? When you’re so beautiful, how could you not know how just your glittering eyes looking at him tear his heart out of his chest? And that was why Satoru hates you so very much, because of that.

How can he look at his best friend’s girl like that? No, he must hate you instead, because if he lets his guard down…

It’d be over for him.

“Satoru, you aren’t fucking listening.”

Satoru looks at his best friend, seeing the anguish in his face, and it makes him feel even worse. “Sorry. I’m sorry, okay?”

“How could you be so mean, even to a stranger let alone her? It’s not even like you. It’s like I don’t know who you are. And if this is jealousy for her time with me, she always makes sure we have time alone, so-”

“I know she does. I know she’s perfect. I know she’s beautiful. And, I know she is a sweet person who’s only been nice to me. Okay!?”

“So what the fuck-”

“I hate her.”

Suguru blinks in confusion, crossing his arms then, tilting his head to the side to study his best friend. “Why though?”

Satoru’s hands grip his desk so tightly the knuckles go white. “I don’t know what to tell you, I just do.”

“You want me to break up with her don’t you?”

“Yep.”

“So what, I can be miserable and lonely like you?”

“Fuck you, Sugu. I fuck plenty.”

“And I fuck plenty.”

“Her though.”

“Yeah, her but… we bring girls in.” Satoru blinks at that again, imagining you with another woman makes him stupidly hard in his trousers, and he huffs as he turns away so Suguru wouldn’t notice. “So surprised?”

“She seems like a goody goody.”

Why would Suguru want to fuck another girl anyway, when he had you ?

“Brought Utahime home last week and fucked her.” Satoru glares over at Suguru behind his shoulder.

“Both of you?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“And you eiffel towering over this girl too?”

“No. We haven’t done anything with a guy. She hasn’t wanted to, and yes, I offered. I am not one sided.”

“Hmm.” Is all Satoru answers, then Suguru breaks into a little laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“You wanna fuck her. How did I not see this?”

“Do not! What, no.”

“Maybe if you weren’t such a dick she’d go for it. She thinks you’re hot, you know.” Satoru frowns, turning back to Suguru then.

“What, like you all are poly? Why? Isn’t she… enough?”

“That’s a weird question from you. It’s just what works for us right now, but yes she would be enough for me if she wanted to go exclusive. I was already poly when we met, she was a little hesitant but jumped right into it.”

“Huh. Well, I don’t wanna fuck your girl. That would be…”

“Sure you don’t. It’s like when a kid picks on a girl, so childish. You could have just told me that you wanted to.”

It was beyond that. Satoru didn’t wanna just fuck you, he wanted to be with you, kiss you, worship you, fuck he wanted to breed you even, bend you over his desk and cum inside you. It was horrible, the thoughts, as he jerked off in his bed at night to one of your photos he’d sent himself from Suguru’s phone.

Yep it was that bad.

Even this offer? It would never work.

“Maybe just try to be nice, and spend the night.” Satoru looks at Suguru like he's lost it. How was he so calm about you? About sharing you?

“You want me to fuck your girl with you, Sugu? You crazy?”

“If it would get you all to get along, absolutely.”

“She hates me.”

“No, she should, but she doesn’t.” How could you not hate him? Satoru is wracking his brain, trying to figure you out. Were you perfect? “Anyway I’m out, at least ask her to go to the game with us, would you please? And apologize.”

“I can’t just text her.” Suguru rolls his eyes.

“Why not?”

Because he would lose his mind if your name popped up on his goddamn phone, that’s why.

“Tell her it’s fine if she comes. I’ll… apologize at the game.”

“That’s as good as it’ll get I suppose. Bye, asshole.”

Suguru leaves, and Satoru’s mind is a blur, as he digests the type of relationship you and Suguru clearly have, and it was not what he expected. Suguru damn near said ‘fuck my girl’. What would he even do if he touched you? If he tasted you. The thought makes his mouth water, makes his cock hard.

Did you taste as good as you smell? Fuck.

He wouldn’t even wanna share you if you were his, not even with his best friend. Luckily he hates you. Right?

***

Your POV

You’re at the basketball game the next day, dressed up in the white and blue little outfit Suguru had picked out for you, the team’s colors, and you sit awkwardly next to Satoru and Suguru. Satoru has barely talked to you all night, but he’s been nothing but civil, which is as good as you can imagine.

You don’t know why he even invited you after the way he talked to you yesterday, and he sure has not apologized, but here you are. It did take some convincing from Suguru though.

(earlier that day)

“Ah, Sugu… oh f-fuck yes, there there!” Suguru’s tongue was lavishing your little clit, and he sucked it into his mouth, chocolate eyes darting up your body as he hummed on it, making you fall apart under him. “S’good… oh my…”

You’re cumming all over Suguru Geto’s handsome face, and he pulls back with a grin, licking his lips, half his face covered in your arousal. “Princess, I could do this all fucking day. Tastes so good.”

“Sugu… you’re so… mnh!” He’s slid a long finger in you now, curling it up just so, and you see stars then. Suguru could play your little cunt like it was an instrument, his fingers finding that little spot and hitting it again and again.

“Cum again for me, please, Princess.” He cooes the words, and you just arch your hips up as he grabs the fat of your ass, using his fingers and tongue in sync, until you’re completely spent, cumming all over his hands as he sips you up.

“Oh my God, Sugu.” You mumble, left incoherent when he leans over you, kissing your lips softly. You moan into it, clinging to him.

“You have the best little pussy.” You flush then.

“You don’t have to say that, I know you enjoy…” Huh, does it hurt your feelings a bit? No it can’t.

“Sure I do enjoy, but I mean it. The best.” He kisses your lips softly. “You’re my favorite.”

You for some reason doubt it.

You hate that.

“What’s wrong Princess? He has you that down? Imma beat his ass when I see him.” You shake your head, sighing then. “He said he thinks you’re beautiful, you know, and that he was surprised you believed him.”

“That’s… no. Just no. I don’t believe that for shit.”

“He did say it. I know he’s being awful but I almost think it’s because he wants to fuck you.”

“What!?” Your brows raise at that, and Suguru sighs, brushing back your hair then.

“We have played with what, four women now? Haven’t you thought of playing with a guy?”

“Are you into guys? I don’t mind if you want to…”

“No, but I’m very comfortable, especially with Satoru. And you’re not very experienced, you know, it could be fun for you. I’m like the only guy you’ve been with damn near.”

“What you’re hinting at is insane. I know you shared women but they weren’t girlfriends or anything right?”

“No, they weren’t. But sometimes I wonder if you all need to fuck this frustration on each other.”

“Satoru would never wanna fuck me.”

“Baby…”

“What, did you not hear him?”

“Yeah I did, and I’m so sorry you had to go through that. But let’s not bullshit here, the man can’t get his goddamn eyes off you.”

“In hatred! Anyway no, just no. It would never happen.”

“So you don’t wanna fuck him, hmm?” Suguru grasps you by your wrists then, and you shake your head, crying out when he slides his fingers down your tummy, trembling under his hand. “What about if I have him eat this pretty pussy while you suck my cock?”

“Suguru, what!? Like he would. Silly- mnh… stop.” He’s rubbing your little entrance, and you start soaking his hand, embarrassingly.

“Don’t want us both to eat you out, at the same time?” You whine, pathetically, as Suguru grins then, so handsome and devious. “She sure does.”

“She’s stupid. I only want you.” Then you frown a bit, as you think of the situation you two are in. “S-Suguru… will you always want other women?”

He frowns too, shaking his head, kissing down your jaw. “If you ever wanted to be exclusive I would for you, Princess. Say the word.”

“Would it be like a sacrifice-”

“Not at all. I love the fun we have though. But I would not care if it didn’t happen. I think I need to give you some fun, make you feel so beautiful.” He's trailing his hands down your body ever so slowly, and your mind runs wild with visions.

“With Satoru, no, he… would never make me feel that way. Suguru, mnh… please just-”

“Why are you soaking my hand when you say his name?” He whispers those words, and you falter, as images of Satoru hit your eyes, and Suguru's fingers are getting soaked. You shake them away, but Suguru is observant. “He would only be so lucky to fuck you.”

“Do you think I’m really so pretty? When you have others that…”

“The prettiest. Prettiest tits, prettiest face, prettiest pussy.” You melt then, because no matter what fun you all have, it’s always together (exceptions would be when you all agree video is okay) and Suguru always makes you feel special. Maybe you worry too much.

“What if you find someone better?”

“Baby, what’s up with you?” He pulls back and you just sigh. “If this isn’t what you want just tell me...”

“I’m just down on myself.” You pout, and you watch Suguru's concern.

“I know, baby, I am so sorry.” He kisses you sweetly, and you melt, like you always do. “I’ll make sure he’s not a dick anymore. I swear. Trust me.”

“I don’t wanna go, though.”

“Then he wins, fuck that, go and look super hot, and ruin his little pea size brain okay?” You laugh just a bit, but things weigh on you.

Your relationship with Geto is so easy…

Aside from his dick of a friend.

Who hates you.

And who you're vividly picturing. Fuck.

Present

You keep your hands to yourself, your knees knocking together as you watch the game, the men running back and forth, dribbling the ball, throwing it, their sneakers squeaking on polished floors. Your eyes keep drifting over to him, though, and you notice Satoru’s eyes keep straying to your body, making you overheat.

The way his gaze lingers on your legs makes you squirm in your seat, and you can’t help but feel a thrill run through you, despite the tension. His icy glare is gone now, replaced with something softer, something that makes your stomach flip, his lips weren’t in a thin line, they were pouting just a bit. Suguru has a hand on your thigh, and he squeezes it, smiling.

You smile back at him. Why were you in the middle? Was this Suguru’s idea of making you all closer? But why does Satoru’s thigh brushing against yours do insane things to your psyche? Why does the scent of his cologne make you ache to snuggle him when he’s a damn asshole, when he would never want that.

You adore Suguru, when you met him at first it intimidated you, this wild lifestyle he led, but then he made you feel so good, and so included, that you ended up enjoying much of it. And several times now he’d brought up sharing you, only recently today sharing you with him . If Satoru didn’t hate you and call you unattractive, absolutely you would have.

But as it stood, you could tell he hates sitting next to you.

“I’m grabbing drinks, want one Princess?” Suguru asks, touching your hand to shake you out of your reverie. You have to strain to hear him in the loud throngs of the crowd cheering.

“I’ll go-”

“It’s fine, I got it. Satoru, you want a drink?” Satoru peers over at you, and you don’t see the usual anger, it’s a different look. You can’t put your finger on it, but it’s different for sure.

“Yeah, can you just grab me a beer?” Suguru nods, looking back at you again, and you fidget, afraid to be alone with Satoru, even in a crowd.

“Same, please and thanks.” He smiles, leaning down and kissing you then, and he walks away, leaving the two of you awkwardly alone.

The team hits a big play, and you jump up with your little pom poms, wiggling them in the air, as Satoru jumps and shouts loudly. You all bump into each other a bit, and it makes you both tense, pulling away a bit. You scooch further from him when you all sit down again, but he spreads his stupidly long legs even wider, his hand resting next to you.

“I’m sorry I came along.” You say softly, and he looks back at you, sighing a bit, and his eyes make you lose your senses for a moment.

“Don’t be. Suguru wouldn’t come without you.” He brushes that off, so casually, and though that was the truth it was a little harsh to know.

“He would have, I would have made him.”

“Yeah well. It’s not like I’m paying attention to you, I’m watching the game anyway, so it doesn't matter.”

“Yeah, true. Though I wish Suguru would sit here.”

“Don’t like to sit next to me huh?” You roll your eyes, irritated by his haughty tone, and laugh just a bit, without humor.

“As if you like this.” He just studies you, and you almost wish he’d just be mean, because that’s easier to handle than whatever this intense fucking look is.

“Have I complained?”

“Because Suguru asked you to not be so mean.”

“Yeah well.”

No apology, of course. When would someone like Satoru Gojo apologize to you, of all people? You peer over at him in that white dress shirt and those slacks that hug him like a glove, his shades shoved up on his head worth more than your life. The glinting gold watch, where his sleeves rolled up, revealing toned arms with veins wrapped around them.

You turn your attention back to the game, which was going into a bit of a break, leaving you even more awkward next to the man who hates you.

“Can I ask something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why do you hate me so much? Like… did I offend you or something? Could you please just tell me what to do here?” You’re whispering it, since the words make you emotional, and Satoru’s lips turn down, brushing his silvery hair back with a hand, messing it up just a bit.

“You don’t need to know.” He says, and you glare then.

“I think I have a right to know. I can fix it? Maybe?”

“Can’t fix this.”

“Let me try maybe? I want to meet this amazing, funny, sweet guy Suguru swears you are, the one he loves so much.” You reach your hand out to his thigh, and he glares at it, then at you, his hand yanking yours off then, by your delicate wrist. You blink in confusion.

“You can’t fix why I hate you. Got it? And that doesn’t help. Makes it so much fucking worse.” He mumbles, not letting go of your wrist, his huge hand gripping it, taking it over.

“Sorry.”

“Why, you didn’t do anything. I hate you for nothing that you can control, does that make it better, knowing that?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “You make no sense. If you just tried to know me, you’d see I’m not the worst person ever. Regardless of how you think of my looks, you won’t even give me a chance internally.”

He lets your wrist go, sighing and looking into your eyes, but there’s not the usual anger even now. “I shouldn’t have said that yesterday.”

“Thank you for that. Even if you feel that way it’s just not nice to tell people that they’re… unattractive. Promise I say it in my own mind enough.”

“Then you’re stupid.”

“So I’m unattractive, and stupid, and you hate me.” You look down, those words wrecking you again, and you try not to show any emotion.

“You really think you’re not beautiful?” Your eyes meet, and he looks angry, again at you. You sigh, as your inner turmoil rages looking at him.

“I don’t think I’m beautiful at all. Lately I have been feeling pretty, thanks to Suguru, but that’s kind of new. It doesn’t matter anyway. If you think I’m ugly you don’t have to say it, or judge me for it. It doesn’t matter as much as who I am.”

“So you think what I said is true?”

“I’m sure you and Suguru both get much prettier girls. It’s fine. You’re both very attractive men.” Satoru stares at you more, and it makes you feel so confused, so weird, he won’t stop looking right at you. “What!?”

“You’re not unattractive. At all. I can’t believe I have to say this.”

“You don’t have to. Suguru put you up to-”

“You’re so beautiful all I can think of is how I wanna bury my cock in your pretty mouth.” His words are dangerous whispers, his hands gripping your thighs tight suddenly, and you can’t even think, your body reacting instantly, embarrassingly. “Can’t stop thinking about how badly I wanna fuck you over my desk. How I’d lick that little cunt right now with this stupid skirt driving me nuts.”

“Satoru… what…” You hate what his words do, what this asshole friend of your boyfriend says, his effect. Your nipples are taut against your bra, your tummy feeling that pressure, thighs shifting, and his gaze drops to them like a hawk.

“That’s why I hate you. Because all I think of is fucking my best friend’s girl. And yeah, he even brought it up, what you all do. Wanna know what I think?” He’s brushing your hair back behind your ear, and you’re losing all sense of self, everything fades to the background.

“What do you think?” He laughs, darkly then, his white teeth glinting from the bright fluorescents above.

“That if I had you I’d never want anyone else. That if I had to share you I’d be greedy. I’d lick you first, fuck you first, fuck you so good you can’t even think, can’t even walk. Wreck that little cunt.” His husky words shoot straight through you, the way he looks at you, this hunger in his gaze, it’s insane.

“Are you just fucking with me, Gojo? Is this a joke?” You demand through gritted teeth, and then he laughs again, but it doesn’t hit his eyes, the pupils so dilated the blue was truly hard to handle.

“I wish it was. I hate you because you’re you . You can’t fucking fix it, you can’t buy me expensive tickets, smile at me all pretty, it all makes it worse. Makes me want you more. And so I just hate you completely.”

You take a moment, struggling to process anything he was even saying, as your gaze drifts down his long, lithe body. Although you’d seen Suguru with women, and you’d been with women, you had never felt something like this, intense need clawing away at you. Even with Suguru, who you have such a good time with, you never felt whatever this is.

Was it hate?

What was it?

“I know, you’re so in love you won’t even fuck another guy when Suguru asks too. Loyal when he’s not.”

“We do everything together, or… like I know what he does. He doesn’t hide shit from me, Gojo. He treats me so good.”

“I am sure he does. He’s the best person I know. I just can’t see a world where I have you and want someone.”

His words hit too hard. It's so shocking from his usually cruel lips. “That’s crazy talk, you know, especially…”

“I didn’t mean what I said. Okay? Fucking stupid to think I did.”

“Aw you two are making up, huh?” Suguru sits next to you, handing you both a drink then, and you and Satoru tense up, as your mind whirls. “So, you all gonna fuck this frustration out or what?”

Your eyes go wide with shock, mouth dropping, and you shake your head quickly while you look at him. “Suguru, you can’t be serious about this.”

“Why not. Shoko is coming over tomorrow anyway, why don't we three party tonight.” He winks over at Satoru then.

“You’re gonna fuck Shoko, yuck.”

“Yep and you’re gonna fuck Princess here.” He pats your head, smiling, his eyes closing so adorably like he isn’t talking insane. “What, why can’t you have fun?”

“She doesn’t wanna fuck me.” Satoru says casually, and you gulp then, as he straight up says something so…

False.

“Are you sure about that?” Suguru murmurs, brushing your hair back until it is no longer on your chest, pulling your top back just a bit, and you feel yourself heating up when he’s got your hard nipples basically pressed against the top now. Satoru’s sultry blue gaze hits your breasts, lingering there. “Looks pretty excited to me.”

“Suguru!” You hiss, scowling back at his devious grin, but Satoru is licking his lower lip, making it all glossy, and one of his hands keeps clenching and unclenching into a fist.

“Nothing could make me happier than you two getting along, at least give it a chance. What if you like it, hmm?” He’s nuzzling your neck, and you shift in your seat, biting the inside of your cheek for a moment.

“So you think I’ll fuck her and stop hating her?” Satoru drawls out the words slowly, and Suguru is just rubbing up and down your waist, heightening every insane sensation.

“It’s so good I know you will.”

“Suguru… I doubt that.” You mumble, shyly fidgeting with your thumbs, rolling them around over and over.

“What if I still hate her? Do I get to keep fucking her?” Satoru’s question throws you for a loop, the intent behind his stupidly pretty gaze washing over you, and you feel Suguru’s chuckle behind you.

“No, you have to be nice to her if you want to again.” You scowl at him, then over at Gojo.

“Do I not get a say? I’m not a fuck toy.” You hiss, and Gojo actually smiles then, and it surprises you, how pretty it is. Suguru kisses your neck, laughing against it, while you nervously sip your drink.

“Being out fuck toy does sound fun.” Suguru says softly. “It would be fun for you, too, don’t you think?”

“You really want me to wreck her? She won’t even want you again.” Satoru says, grinning, and Suguru just laughs, grinning back.

“Yeah, you can try but we all know it’s not happening.”

“Have I agreed?”

“Bet she’s soaked.” Suguru is lifting your skirt, in the middle of a game, even though you all were off in a section this was insane, and Satoru’s eyes dart down between your thighs, and you can’t hold in the little whine. “Feel her and find out for me, would you?”

“She doesn’t want me to.” Satoru’s voice is husky, then you feel your thin control snap, as you say fuck it all and take his hand. You meet his shocked gaze, then you look around, and put his hand on your thigh.

“Stop acting like you know me, Gojo.” You raise your brows then, and his smirk eats at you, his thumb sliding against your soft inner thigh making goosebumps prick along your skin.

“Y’know this is the most you have gotten along.”

“Am I up to caliber, though?” You whisper those words, and Gojo’s hand slides even further up, all while his other hand brushes against your hip, nearly touching Suguru’s hand.

“We’ll have to see huh?”

“Cocky little shit.”

“Oooh, so she does have some backbone huh?” Satoru’s grinning at you, with those sharp fangs glinting, lashes lowering over his eyes. And you feel Suguru’s grip tighten on your waist.

“Fuck you, Gojo.” Suguru snorts behind you.

“Okay… sex?” You both scowl over to Suguru again.

Sex, with Satoru Gojo?

“Why don’t you just fuck him, hmm?”

“Who’s to say he hasn’t?” Satoru blows Suguru a kiss and you sigh.

“Am I really gonna do this! With Satoru Gojo?”

“You should be so lucky, damn brat-”

“Satoru….” Suguru starts again, exhaustion clear in his voice.

“Listen, I didn’t turn it down.” He slides his hand fully up, and when his thumb presses where you’re hot and sticky against your panties, his breath hitches, as does yours, both of you just stare at each other, unable to speak. For a long moment, until his thumb rubs in a gentle circle and you damn near whimper.

Fuck.

Yep you were going to do this.

***

In the car on the way home you are sitting next to Satoru and Suguru as their driver Kiyotaka takes you all back to Suguru’s place. Satoru is oddly quiet, you notice, poking around on his phone. You know he still hates you, but his hand is casually on your thigh now, rubbing in little circles, and Suguru is smiling down at you, popping little kisses on your forehead.

“You sure like her thighs for hating her so much.” Suguru murmurs lazily, and Satoru smirks, not looking up from his phone.

“I didn’t say I hate her body. Quite the opposite.” You struggle against the feelings raging inside of you. You had never done anything like this, as wild as you and Suguru were with women, it seemed so different, especially with Satoru. His hands are so big, even bigger than Suguru’s, his fingers are so long they take up most of your thigh.

“You like my legs hmm?” You say softly, and Satoru does lift his gaze from his phone, amused expression clear on his features.

“They’re really short, but they’re nice.” You laugh a bit at that, and it’s the first time you think you’ve laughed around him. His grip tightens a bit at the sound.

“Is that almost a compliment?” He shrugs a shoulder, poking back at his phone then.

“Bet they’d be nice around my face.” Your tummy clenches again at the words, at the imagery, and Suguru seems to pick up on that, his hand coming to your other thigh now, bringing your attention to him.

“You like that idea, Princess?” His voice is teasing, and you gulp, trying not to give Satoru so much satisfaction. But you just give a little nod. “Look at you two, I’m so proud right now.”

“Okay dad.” Satoru leans back some, his thighs even wider, god could he just sit normal you wonder, not pressed so against you. Suguru is the same way, and you’re pressed in the middle of the two of them, your body viscerally reacts, to the point you’re overheated.

“Wonder who you’ll call daddy?” Suguru teases you, and you flush.

“It’ll be me.” Satoru says, cocky and self assured.

“Nah, totally me.”

“Neither of you.” You say, crossing your arms, and they both look at each other, then back at you, grinning.

“You challenging us right now? That won’t end well for you.” Satoru says softly, leaning close, your breath catches with how he looks at you, so intent, his lips tempting you too closely.

Before you can speak, you’ve pulled up to Suguru’s place, and you thankfully can get out of the car, breathe air, but you now have no clue what you’re in for. The way Satoru’s hungry, lewd gaze and Suguru’s easy seductive one glaze over your body, the heat you clearly feel from both of them, the tension between the man who hates you and the man that really likes you…

What are you in for?

And in what world does it end well?”

***

Satoru’s POV

Satoru watches as Suguru leads you, hand in hand to his sleek condo, and as he looks around he wonders, where does he fuck you, where does he lick you? Where does he fuck other women with you? And why the fuck does that thought make him so angry for you. He loves Suguru, and he himself was quite open sexually, this isn’t the first time he and Suguru would share.

But he can’t even imagine having to take turns.

He wants to bring you back to his place, to fuck you senseless, make you forget anything you ever knew. He’d felt your heat, felt that sticky wetness, your soft skin… it was something that he had avoided, touching you in any way. He knew it would make everything ten times worse, and so it did.

When you turn to look up at him, with your gorgeous eyes, your lips parted just slightly, hair a little messy from the day, falling softly around your face… it takes everything in him not to throw you against a wall and fuck into you. It takes every effort not to snatch you up and literally be a horrible friend, take you away, this is what you do to him.

It’s why he hates you.

What effect did you have? And how the fuck could he take turns on you? But he can’t turn it down, no, he needs to feel you, and if this is how it happens, he’ll do it. Satoru Gojo is desperate for you, and that’s something he’s never been in his life, shit came easy for him. Why were you so difficult?

“Drinks? Let’s get drinks.” Suguru pats Satoru on the shoulder, then pats you on the ass, pressing you two together a bit. You look down shyly, long lashes casting shadows on your pretty features.

God you’re perfect, aren’t you?

“Still hate you.” Satoru mumbles, and you just look at him, brows furrowing a little bit, licking your lips and tempting him to no end. How would they feel on his cock, that little tongue sliding against his tip?

“I know you hate me. So why are you doing this?” You whisper, as you two awkwardly stand in Suguru’s living room alone, far too close. Satoru towers over you, you’re so small compared to him. He sees you’re nervous too.

“You’re stupid.” You scowl up at him, and fuck if you’re not stupidly hot when you do so. “I already told you why.”

“But it’s… not… you won’t… what if you don’t like it?” You mumble, and he watches insecurities eat you alive, how had he not noticed before? He just assumed because you’re so pretty you knew.

“What, you need practice sucking dick? Heard you like to eat pussy.” You scoff, rolling your eyes at him. “Or are you a pillow Princess?”

“I like to please.” Your eyes hit his body then, desire reflected in them, and he itches to touch you, he itches to be sweet to you, but he can’t. Nope.

“We’ll see if it’s passable. If not, I'll give some tips.” You laugh, a little bark of laughter, shaking your head.

“Suguru likes it just fine.”

“I sure do. She’s great at blow jobs.” Suguru hands you both a drink, and Satoru can’t stop his gaze locked on those supple, full lips of yours. “Guess what, believe it or not Satoru’s good at eating pussy. From what I’ve seen. But, I’m better.”

“No way, you know I’d win.” Suguru looks at you, and you’re all flushed in the cheeks as you delicately sip your drink. Why is every movement you make just torturing him?

“He’s really, really good though. Licked an accidental I love you out of me.” You tease, and Suguru laughs at that, but you look a little sad he notices.

“Ya didn’t say it back, Sugu?” Suguru grows serious for a moment at Satoru’s obvious question.

“It’s just still early, and she kind of… took it back.”

“I was embarrassed for sure.”

Imagine those words from your lips. Satoru’s grip is so tight on the glass he feels it will just break, shutting his eyes for a moment and sucking in a breath. Was he really going down this path, knowing what would happen when you would touch him, when he would taste you? Knowing he’d get more obsessed, fuck it was just so much easier to hate you.

But how could he turn it down?

It would be such a shitshow but so worth it.

“We’ll have to see who’s better, huh?” Suguru teases, smirking over at Satoru, and he just eyes your perfect little form slowly, humming to himself.

“First, less clothes.” Satoru says softly, and watches your nervous habits, how you bite your lower lip so hard you leave teeth marks, how your hands tremble as you set your drink down. “You're scared, huh?”

“Nope. Sure not.” He smirks at you, but that freezes when you slip your shaky little fingers to your top, popping open one button, then the other, and he has to grip the fuck out of the counter next to him. Your soft, supple skin is revealed with each one, until your breasts spill out, just left in a lacy blue bra.

Fuck he could cum just seeing you.

“Not bad.” He is so full of shit, and Suguru is rolling his eyes, you blink a little, looking down. Fuck he hates himself. But if he’s sweet to you… “Let’s see the rest then I’ll judge.”

“She’s beautiful.” Suguru comes and you lift your long hair out of the way, and he easily unsnaps your bra, then slides it down your shoulders, kissing them, the way Satoru wants to, but he wouldn’t be gentle like Suguru, not if you were his. He would suck and bite every inch of your skin. “There we go, Princess.”

He lets your bra fall to the floor, and you’re bare from the waist up, and he sees them then, your lush breasts, perfect and pretty. Your little nipples are puffy and pronounced, begging for his mouth on them, for his fingers to pinch them. And you just stand there, your shoulders set high, as Satoru eats you up, and fuck if you’re not the most perfect thing he’s seen.

Suguru looks at Satoru, his dark eyes seductive in their glint, as if he could tell how badly Satoru wants you. Your perfect breasts are heaving with your panting little breaths, while Suguru is running his hands down your slender little arms. You look at Satoru, then Suguru, then down, as if you’re a little shy finally.

“Um… up to caliber?” You ask, and he hears it, the bitterness in your sultry little voice. And you should be bitter, mad, fuck you shouldn’t let him see this, should you? But here you are, and you look so fucking gorgeous he can’t take it.

He steps up to you then, taking two fingers and tilting your chin up, looking into those eyes he’d made cry yesterday. “Gorgeous.”

You gasp, and Suguru grins then, pecking a little kiss on your neck, as Satoru’s hands trail down your face, your throat, that delicate collarbone, and he watches your breaths increase. He can hear that little whine you try to hide from the back of your throat, he can feel your energy, your heat near him.

“Told you, baby. You’re beautiful.” Suguru is right, of course he is, and Satoru is damn near speechless at a pair of tits, it’s pathetic. You make him pathetic, don’t you, it’s why…

He should hate you.

No he does hate you.

But…

“Thank you… both.” You whisper, and Satoru doesn’t deserve your thanks, for one stupid word, when you were so much more.

You should hate him.

Why don’t you?

“Why don’t you feel them, Satoru? How nice they are.” Suguru is running his hand around your waist, pressing your breasts up then, and you’re crying out softly, that pleasure on your face making you so sexy. Satoru’s hands slide down, and he feels them, the weight in his hands, and he can’t hold back his own moan then.

Your eyes fly to his, as he cups your breasts in his big hands, and he sees it then, clear as fucking day. You want him. As his thumbs brush your nipples, and your head leans back, for Suguru’s mouth to kiss up the side of it, one of your little hands clutch his shirt, pulling him closer, the other, on one of Suguru’s arms.

“Perfect.” Satoru says softly, and you gasp, but then Satoru leans so close to your lips, you start to shake in Suguru’s hold.

“Perfect.” Suguru agrees, and Satoru watches you melt then, as his lips descend, and he can taste your sweet breath on his lips, it intoxicates him to no end. “You gonna kiss him, Princess?”

You lean up, as he leans down, and your hand slides up to Satoru’s face then, so tiny, a thumb swiping over his lower lip, and then Satoru’s eyelids are low over his eyes, as he presses his lips to yours. You moan at it, so quiet he almost couldn’t hear, vibrating his lips, and then Satoru knows it, knows it when he melts into your kiss, knows it when his tongue swipes into your hot mouth.

It’s all over for him.

And he hates you for it.

***

Your POV

Satoru’s lips send electrical sparks through yours, it’s absolutely insane, as his big hands knead your breasts, and Suguru is hard against your lower back, his big hands on your hips, pressing. But when Satoru’s tongue slides in your mouth, and you drink in his moans? When you taste his breath, when you feel that slick start to dribble from your little cunt?

Fuck. This is bad, it’s bad. It’s bad.

“Hate you.” He whispers then, right on your lips, right when his eyes drink you in lazily, when he squishes your breasts in his hands. It was so quiet you don’t even think he spoke, more moved his lips and you understood.

Satoru Gojo hates you.

Right?

Chapter 2

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58179796/chapters/148138651

[greyskyflowers]

I like to think about Charles really understanding what Edwin went through in hell. I really wished we'd seen more of that in the show. 😫

Like... how many times do you think Edwin got torn apart down there? How many times could he die and start over in an hour? A day? A year?

How many times did the demon mess him up just enough so that he couldn't run? Stuck sitting there just waiting to either bleed out or for the final strike before starting again?

Anyway ~ I'm feral for hurt/comfort and burn the world for you relationships so here we go ~

🌜🌜🌜🌜🌜🌜🌜🌜

Sometimes Edwin has what they've been calling, for lack of better word, episodes. He had some prior to his second trip in hell but nothing like what he has now.

Charles can't decide if it's easier or harder to witness them now that he knows more about what happened all those years in hell.

Thankfully, most of the time, these episodes happen when they're home. Usually after a particularly rough day and often coinciding with times when Charles is briefly out doing something.

He always knows right away, steps through the mirror to a dark and quiet room. There's a brief but consuming feeling of panic every time he steps out and doesn't immediately see Edwin, but he doesn't think that will ever go away.

There's a few places Edwin tucks himself into when he has an episode, all of them small and dark.

Edwin claims it's muscle memory from all the years in hell he ran and hide.

Personally, Charles thinks Edwin finally has places to hide and takes full advantage of it. He doesn't remember seeing too many places to hide in those terrible, endless hallways of hell.

Charles hates these episodes.

He's trying to be better with his anger but everytime they go through this, everytime Edwin gets a certain look in his eye, or tries to nonchalantly get closer to Charles when something sets off memories, it reminds him that Edwin was taken away from him numerous times and was hurt over and over again.

It makes the rage simmer in his belly and he thinks no one would really hold it against him if he ever gets his hands anyone who's hurt Edwin and let's the rage take over for a minute... or a few minutes. He really wouldn't need more than that with all the anger that seems to burn under his skin.

He's quiet as he walks to the desk, eyeing the chair pulled out and shoved away to make room, before carefully peering around the edge to look under it and Edwin looks back at him with awful, terrified eyes.

He knows how this goes by now, almost the same every time. What a terrible thing to be familiar with.

He quietly sinks to the floor by Edwin and starts trying to squeeze himself under the desk with him. The space is not meant for two people, or even one, but like hell he's going to pull Edwin out of today's chosen hiding place so they can get resettled easier.

He'd done that at the beginning. Tried to remind Edwin where he was and that he was safe, had spoken softly but not as soft as he had in hell, and tried to pull Edwin out. It was a mistake. The look of terror and betrayal on Edwin's face had made sure he never tried that approach again.

It was easier this way, to play along.

He puts a hand on the back of Edwin's head because he always smacks it off the underside of the desk when they hide here, and while it might not hurt him like it would a living being, it still makes a painful sound that has Charles clenching his jaw.

Edwin ends up on his lap, really the only way they both fit, and thankfully he's usually too distracted to realize that Charles has his legs sticking out from under the desk and that their hiding spot isn't really a good spot for two people.

He trembles, even though he's stiff like he's trying desperately not to shake. He clings, hands grasping at Charles's shirt and burying his face in his neck like everything will go away if he can't see it.

Sometimes, it sends Charles spiraling down a rabbit hole, wondering how Edwin held himself up long enough to run in hell when he always shakes so hard during these episodes. His legs wouldn't carry his weight right now if they stood up, he'd go right back down.

It's not something he likes to think too much about, especially when Edwin needs him to hold it together.

Sometimes Edwin cries. Sometimes he begs. Sometimes the only noise is a frantic wheezing.

Charles pulls his legs up more and wraps his arms around Edwin tighter, curling around him as much as he can. He urges him to keep his face tucked away, pets at his hair, and strokes his thumb over his arm. He presses his lips agaist any skin close enough, and starts talking. Soft, and hardly even audible but it always helps.

He talks about everything and anything he can think off. Stories, memories, comforts, praises.

He tells Edwin that he's been absolutely brills to handle this alone before Charles got back, but he's here now and if Edwin needs to just hide away for a little bit, that was fine. Charles has him. Nothing is going to get him.

He's glad Edwin doesn't remember much from these episodes, panic making everything too hazy to understand when he tries. He just knows how they end, usually with the two of them tangled up somewhere, because Charles refuses to let Edwin go until he's completely back to himself but that's as far as he can usually recall.

Charles would crack open his ribcage and let Edwin hide in there if it'd keep him safe.

🌜🌜🌜🌜🌜🌜🌜🌜

Frantically scribbled this down during work so please forgive any errors. Got lots of ideas hanging around my head and little time to type them out 🤔

Gotta love all that trau~ma!

[daenysx]

Gentle Sirius x virgin reader who’s never told anyone she hasn’t done it before and tells Sirius right when they’re about to do the deed and Sirius is really nice about it and helps her ease into it? (Also maybe a moment when she’s uncomfortable with the pain when he enters? I usually see fics like this written a bit unrealistically with no initial pain or discomfort and I’m like “how?!😭”)

thank you for requesting, i hope you enjoy ♡ requests are open!!

sirius black x fem!reader, nsfw

insatiable, little trouble

sirius loves the way you pull his hair.

your fingers are so gentle but also cruel, the feeling on his scalp makes his blood rush and he kisses you harder. you suck his bottom lip, his tongue brushes yours, and you pull yourself to lie back on bed.

sirius laughs at your poor attempts to catch your breath. "sorry, lovely. was it too much?"

you shake your head, smiling. "you're not really sorry."

"no, i'm not." he whispers on your cheek. "i love seeing you on my bed."

you clench your legs slightly, hearing sirius's voice so close to your ear does something to you. you press a kiss on his skin, his hair still between your fingers. he kisses your cheek and your jawline, he moves his lips on you until you get ticklish from the insistent kisses on your neck.

sirius is breathless this time. "yeah, maybe we should take a break, i'm not strong enough to continue." he laughs and stays still on you. he tries to make you smile, and you do, but it's a different smile than your usual ones.

"what?" he asks quietly. he brushes one last kiss on your cheekbone before he quirks an eyebrow at you. "tell me what you think, lovely."

your fingers are drawing circles on his neck, and you try to combine the words in your mind before you say them. it's so obvious in your actions, so clear that you want him. he'll make you say it though, you know that. sirius will always expect you to say what you want even though he understands, because he wants that comfort of words between you two.

"i was thinking- maybe we should continue, siri." you say.

"of course we can, baby." he says back. "what would you like to do?"

his voice is so gentle and sweet, you know he's not teasing. this is a first in your relationship and you feel ready enough to live this with him. he makes you feel brave, like you can get anything you want. he rubs your arm to make you focus on your thoughts, he's patient enough for both of you.

"do you want to have sex with me?" you ask, and it sounds ridiculous because he's literally hard against your leg right now.

"this is- no, i'm not kidding, the best question i've ever heard, and my answer is yes." he says, he is smiling. "but i want what you want. if you want, then yes. if you don't, then no."

"no, i just- i want you. i want to be closer, i want us to have this, but-"

"huh? what's the but, sweetheart?"

"i've never had sex before." you say, you know he will never ever tease you. "i guess i don't really know what to expect."

sirius kisses your upper lip. "it's okay not to know, we can discover what you like together."

"but i want to know what you like." you say, your eyes almost close with the contentment of sharing this with him.

"of course you can, we can just- learn it together, yeah? we've got lots of time, we don't have to rush."

"can we start now? it feels good, siri." you say, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"okay." he gets serious. "let's get rid of our clothes, and then i can get my pretty girl ready for me."

you are quick to take your shirt off, he helps you with your pants. he kisses your thighs and knees, throws his own shirt on the floor. he gets up for one moment to take his pants off, and then he's on your body, your naked skins touching each other.

sirius kisses your collarbones, your neck, and the soft curve of your breasts. you lift yourself to help him take your bra off. he seems happy to see you bare and you don't feel shy with him. he takes your nipple in his mouth and sucks it with closed eyes.

your fingers find their way back to his hair. he moves to your other nipple, kissing it first and then taking it in his hot mouth. you arch your back, he uses his other hand to squeeze your boob gently. he stands straight, fingers on your panties.

"can i take this off, lovely girl?" he asks, and you nod, lifting your hips to help him.

he kisses your belly and your panties join the other discarded clothes. his hands part your thighs, he brushes his lips on your cunt and you shiver. you squirm under his hands, and he looks at you. "oh, baby. i just gotta get you nice and wet for me, yeah?" he asks, and you nod. "can you tell me what you like?"

"maybe- maybe with your fingers- i can never reach too far myself but i like it when i'm touched a bit lower than that."

sirius nods, brings his fingers to your face to cup your cheek first. "you wanna get my fingers wet, darling? yeah? open your mouth for me."

you take two of his fingers in your mouth and suck slightly. he doesn't waste any time, but he tries anything to get you more in the mood. he presses a little on your tongue until he sees your throat clenching and then pulls his fingers back.

there's a wetness that started pooling down your cunt since his first kiss. he uses his fingers well, opens you up, and touches you softly. it's his middle finger first, just to make you get ready for the rest. he puts it inside slowly, you try to close your legs but he keeps them open with his other hand. he moves his finger a little, it's obvious on your face that you like what he's doing.

"another finger? i think we're doing a good job so far." he says, his voice slowly turns into his usual teasing.

he adds another finger and moves both of his fingers according to a pace that makes you stretch. the wetness is incredible, sirius touches the places you can never reach by yourself. you arch your back, the overwhelming hope of an orgasm makes you dizzy.

"you're doing so well for me, i knew you'd be my good girl." he says, following every reaction he can get from you.

you blush, smile with your eyes closed. your hips move involuntarily when he starts rubbing your swollen clit with his thumb. you aren't surprised how quickly he found it, it's begging for attention under his fingers.

"you like it so much, don't you, baby? soaking my fingers when i call you my good girl, pulling me inside like that." he says, the pressure on your clit increases. "you're gonna ruin me."

you moan his name loudly when he presses his fingers there, the soft spot you've only managed to find once, that makes your legs shake. "here? okay, baby." he keeps rubbing there with long fingers. "can you tell me when you're close?"

you nod, closing your eyes when it gets impossible to resist. you move your hips against his hand, he's playing with you and he's perfect at doing it. "siri, can i come? so close- if you keep doing that."

sirius listens, bites his lip as he focuses. "you can come, baby. whenever you want."

you nod again, holding onto his free hand, and waiting for the bubble to snap. you can actually feel your muscles relax, your brain closes off, every thought that keeps you awake disappears. you can see his tattooed fingers moving between your legs and that does it.

you think it maybe lasts for a few minutes to come down from your high. you know it's because how much you trust sirius and how comfortable he makes you feel that he managed to make you come. it's not only physical, it's more. you can feel he's rubbing your thigh, he's kissing your knees. he pulls his hand when he thinks you're ready.

when you open your eyes and look at him, he's already watching you. "that was- wow." you manage to say.

sirius is undeniably proud and happy. "i was thinking the same thing, my angel. would you like to do that on my cock?"

you nod, hungry for more. his dirty words can get you anywhere, you like it so much when they come out of his mouth and directed at you. he gets rid of his boxers, his cock twitches against his belly.

"can i touch you?" you ask, finally get back at the world and sitting on bed.

"sure, my love. do you want me to show you how?"

"yes, please."

"fuck, i'm afraid i'm gonna have to eat you up with how sweet you're being. give me your hand."

you smile, give him your hand, and let him bring it to his cock. he curves your fingers to wrap them around himself, he is thicker than you expected, and lovely, you think. he pushes his hips against your hand just like you were doing before and you can feel him throbbing under your fingers.

"you know, siri, i'd hate to be weird." you begin, try to tease him like he does you. "but i just wanna kiss it silly right now."

sirius throws his head back and laughs loudly. "no worries, that was my first thought when i saw your sweet cunt."

your smile never fades with him, you bring your thumb to the tip of his cock and he holds your hand. "okay, pretty, i think that's enough now."

"why?" you ask, a little sad.

"i wanna be inside your cunt when i come, and i won't last if you keep touching me like that."

"mm-hmm, okay." you say. "should i just lay back?"

"you can stay anyway you like. you can be on top if you'll feel more comfy."

"i'm not sure if my legs are strong enough."

sirius kisses the back of your hand, giving you a beautiful smile. "i can be on top of you. hold onto me and remember to talk to me all the time, yeah?"

you lay back, the pillow is soft under your head. "i'll remember."

"good girl." he says, holding your thighs and angling your body. "that's what you are, my love, you are being so good for me."

he moves on his knees and you shiver slightly when the tip of his cock touches your cunt. you are still wet from early, and stretched. "i just need you to relax." he says. "the more you're relaxed the easier we'll do it."

"i'm relaxed." you say. "promise, i'm ready."

he nods, moving a little more to get closer. he uses his fingers to lead himself inside, he pushes in slowly. you move unconsciously, you are wet but it's more than his fingers and it's unusual for you.

he pushes a little more and you make a sound. sirius is cautious, he pulls back immediately. "did i hurt you? are you okay?"

you try for a smile. "no, it's just- a little uncomfortable right now."

"do you want to continue? we can stop."

"no, i don't want to stop, please." you say. "i can take it, siri, i want you."

sirius rubs your thigh. "i think it's normal, feeling uncomfortable at first. we'll go really slow, baby."

"okay." you say. "can you kiss me?"

he leans in a little more, kissing your lips. you hold onto his shoulders and he deepens the kiss, his hand rubbing your thigh to help you relax. he tries to be inside you again, really slow and careful.

you draw little circles on his shoulders with the tip of your fingers, trying to distract yourself from sudden pain. it's not too much, but you think the feeling is still weird. sirius kisses your chin, his hips moving towards yours to let you have all of him.

"are you okay, lovely thing?" he murmurs. "you're doing perfect for me, taking all of it."

he moves himself with a different angle and your legs shake. "sirius." you whimper. "right there."

he hits the same spot again. "yeah? it should be better now, sweetheart."

you try to lift yourself against him, just to feel his cock pressing there again. "it's better." you say. "it's-oh, it's perfect, siri."

he starts moving according to a certain pace now, hitting your sweet spot. you are stretched around him, still wet and getting wetter, the weird feeling is still there but you can definitely ignore it thanks to the pleasure you get.

"gonna take care of you so well." sirius says, kissing your neck. "make you feel so good."

you are a mess under him, and you love it. "yes, yes, please." you whimper his name. "oh, sirius!"

"fuck." he says, moving a little bit faster. "gonna come for me, pretty girl? gonna make a mess for me? i can feel it- you're almost there."

you nod, taking all of him inside you. it's a good feeling, being this close to him. sirius fills your senses so well, you never want to leave him. this is gonna be a new addiction and you can't help but thinking all the new things you can try with him, the thought of giving him the same kind of pleasure he gives you now makes you arch your back.

"i'm- so close, siri." you say, breathless.

"me too, baby." he says, sucking a spot on your collarbone. "now, be a good girl and come around me."

you are shaking under him as he starts rubbing your clit. the orgasm takes you, it's intense and everything you ever wanted with sirius. he holds you, you close your eyes. he kisses your shoulder, your neck. he keeps moving slowly to help you ride out your orgasm and you pull his hair slightly as you come down from your high.

you hold onto his hair a little harder to get his face closer to yours, and you kiss the skin under his ear. "come inside me." you say. "please, i want it."

sirius obeys, and it only takes one last movement for him to lose himself. he puts his head on your chest as he comes, sucking your nipple unconciously. he whispers your name, and he's sure he almost drifts off. it's a strong urge but you keep him with you, you stroke his hair and wrap your arms around him.

after he calms down, sirius lifts himself on bed to look at you properly. you smile at him, he thinks you look gorgeous. "did you like it?" he asks, giving you a smile back.

"did i like it?" you quirk an eyebrow. "i thought it was obvious, siri."

"say it again for me, love." he can beg you.

"i loved it so much." you say, reaching his face to cup his cheek. "i want to do it again."

sirius laughs. "are you gonna be an insatiable, little trouble for me? is that it?"

"you just created a monster."

he kisses your hand. "oh, yeah. my little monster, i want you close to me all the fucking time."

he gets clingier after sex, you realize. he keeps touching you more than usual and checks on your body. "are you hurting anywhere?" he asks.

you shake your head. "no, it was unusual at first but- i really liked it. didn't hurt too much, i'll be fine."

he nods, leans in to give you a kiss.

"can we have shower?" you ask.

"nope, i'm gonna fill the tub for my baby." he replies. "we should make sure you're comfortable and not hurting, i don't wanna rush cleaning you up."

you kiss him thank you. he kisses you on your forehead after that, he knows you'll probably be sore later. still, he's gonna make sure you're fine, he loves taking care of you. you kiss him until he has to leave to fill the tub, and he carries you to the bathroom. the rest of the evening is spent with sirius spoiling you, never letting you leave the blankets on the couch and filling your stomach with hot chocolate.

[moonstruckme]

Hi 🥺 can I pretty please ask for a fic with emt!marauders treating and helping reader get through getting stitches? Maybe having a huge fear of needles and they always make her so faint and nauseous so the boys fix up their clumsy girl and coach her through getting them because it’s just the absolute worst time ever?

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting! These always get so long because I get wrapped up in the semantics haha. I don’t think this is an accurate reflection of how things work for paramedics, but for the purposes of fiction we’re gonna ignore that :3

Cw: needles, hospital, mention of nausea

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 2.1k words

James is murmuring what you imagine to be placations into the side of your head, so quietly you can’t make them out, and you’re doing your best to keep your hand completely still as a nurse cleans the cut on your palm. 

Sirius is watching you from beside the small bed with tension written all over him. He’s digging his fingernails into his biceps and looking like he might actually jump the nurse if she makes a wrong move. 

“Where’s Remus?” he asks, not for the first time. 

“He’s just finishing up with another patient,” she answers again. “He’ll be here shortly.” 

As eager as you are to see your boyfriend, dread curls like vines around your ribcage. James, sensing this, presses his lips to your temple. 

Ordinarily, paramedics don’t handle stitches, but at your request and after some sweet-talking on James’ part, the director agreed to let Remus see to you. What was staunchly not allowed, however, was for anyone not currently on shift to step in, so your remaining two boyfriends are stuck providing emotional support. James seems to be taking this better, whereas Sirius has been antsy and overprotective since you’d arrived. 

A fraction of the tautness in his biceps dissipates when a familiar set of quick footsteps draws closer on the tiled floor outside your curtain. The nurse is the only one who doesn’t seem to notice, the three of you perking up like meerkats the moment before Remus pulls back the curtain, stepping inside. 

“Hi,” he says, a small, automatic smile curving his lips at the sight of all of you. 

The nurse finishes with perfect timing, tossing the wipe into the trash as she starts to leave. You and Remus both thank her, and once the curtain closes the four of you in together everything feels suddenly more right. You hear James sigh softly.

Remus gets closer than he was willing with a colleague present, wrapping a kind hand around your elbow and soothing upward from there. “Hi, darling,” he says again, softer now. “They tell me you’ve had a kitchen accident.” 

“Totally intentional,” James jokes. “We all just really missed you, needed an excuse to visit.” 

You try to laugh for his sake, and though it’s not fully felt it still helps to loosen the knot of unease in your chest. 

Remus smiles gently. His thumb strokes up and down the back of your arm. “How are you doing?” he asks you. 

You do your best to smile back at him, though from Sirius’ expression it must not be very good. “Honestly? I already feel kind of nauseous.” 

“That’s okay,” he promises, and you can tell he’s making his voice extra low and smooth on purpose. Any other time you might laugh at him for it, but actually it’s quite helpful. “It makes sense to be a bit nervous, yeah? But you won’t feel anything, and so long as you don’t look at it while I’m working I think we’ll be all right.” 

Remus looks you in the eyes for a moment longer to make sure you understand. His eyes are the color of tea steeped just the way you like it, warm and honey-sweet. And maybe you’re feeling vulnerable and mushy, but you think you fall a little more in love with him. 

You nod, letting him take your injured hand. 

“I have to numb it,” he warns you, “and that will likely be the hardest part, but once it’s done things will go fairly easily. Okay?” 

You press your lips together, nodding again not because you want to but because you know you don’t have much choice. James readjusts his hold on you, gripping you tightly with one arm around your shoulders and the other folding your head into his chest. You suspect it’s partly to keep you from moving and partly because he knows you need it, but it feels as though he’s just doing his best to give you a continual hug. You appreciate the effort. 

You follow the movement of Remus’ hand as he picks up a syringe from the tray the nurse had brought in. There’s that odd tingly feeling of the blood draining from your face, the awful queasiness in your stomach. 

“Don’t look,” Sirius tells you, voice just as caring as it is tense. You can tell he’s trying to calm himself for your sake, even if he’s not very good at it. You’ve heard from James and Remus that he’s cool as a cucumber when he works with other patients, but when it’s you or someone he cares about he can’t help getting a bit rattled. “You’re okay, baby, just close your eyes. Think of something else.” 

You can manage the first but not the second. When you feel Remus shifting his hold on your hand your breaths shallow. 

“Quick poke,” he murmurs, and your grip on James tightens as his does on you. 

Though you think you’re prepared for it, a mortifying pained sound rises in your throat at the sting. Both James and Sirius coo sympathetically, but then it’s done, and Remus is murmuring praises while James presses kiss after kiss into your hair. 

You open your eyes to find Sirius has moved closer. He passes you a vomit bag, and you take it thankfully, trying to breathe through the closure in your throat. 

“You’ve got it,” he tells you, brows knit together by both sympathy and concern. “You’re okay, it’s already over with.” 

“I don’t really feel like I’m completely out of the woods,” you try to joke. The truth to it tightens something in you nonetheless. 

“You won’t even feel the rest,” James assures you, still with his lips stuck to you like it’s his job. He smells nice, his eucalyptus shampoo cutting through the icky hospital scent. “You’ll hardly know it’s happening, lovie, we’ll just talk about other things and be out of here before you know it.” 

“I really don’t want to faint,” you say. “I feel like today has been bad enough without fainting.” 

“I’m inclined to agree,” says Remus. You’ve been avoiding looking at him, wary of catching sight of another needle or worsening your nausea by seeing your cut, but his gloved hands are empty. He cradles your injured hand in one, the other drawing a tranquilizing path up and down the side of your thigh. “You won’t faint, sweetheart. We’ll do our best to keep you distracted, and if you need to take breaks we can do that. It’s whatever you need.” 

You blow out a long breath, nodding. Remus gives you a small smile. 

“I only ask that you don’t hold any of this against me,” he teases. “I’m going to require lots of assurance that you’re not upset when I get home.” 

James coos, sounding like he’s considering pulling Remus into your hug as well. 

“No, I know this is all my own fault,” you admit. Sirius huffs his agreement. “I could never hold my clumsiness against you.” 

“I appreciate that.” Remus sends Sirius an intrigued look. “Though maybe I’ll have to make it up to you by cooking, since it seems like you could be barred from the kitchen for some time. Can you feel that?” 

You blink at him. “Feel what?” 

“Good.” 

Remus starts messing with things on the tray again, and both James and Sirius seem to come to attention, James putting his arm around your head again while Sirius pulls up a chair by the bed. 

“The medicine’s working,” Remus tells you, “so I’m going to go ahead and get started, okay? Just try and relax for me, sweetheart.” 

Your eyes go automatically to what he’s doing, but Sirius says sharply, “Hey.” 

That gets your attention, and he gives you an apologetic look, gentling his tone as he takes your good hand. 

“Just look at me,” he tells you. You don’t know if he knows it, but his thumb is tracing a line below your thumb that’s exactly where your cut is on your other palm. “Are you okay to talk, pretty girl?” 

You hum. It comes out high-pitched and shakier than you would’ve expected. 

“Why don’t you tell us about that book you want Remus to read?” 

For a moment, surprise eclipses your anxiety. “You really wanna hear about that?” 

Sirius grins. “No, but you’ve got a captive audience. If I were you I’d seize my chance.” 

You start to smile back at him, but then there’s an odd tugging sensation on your hand. Sirius notices the change, moving to block your view with his hand before you can look towards Remus’ work. Still, your stomach rolls uneasily. Your head feels unnaturally light. 

Sirius says your name firmly. “Tell us about the book, baby.” 

“It’s…” You fight to solidify your thoughts. “It’s a true story.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I thought it was fiction, but it’s not.” Another tug, and you whimper. “Sorry, I don’t feel well.” 

“You’re doing great,” James says, and Sirius takes the bag from you, opening it up in case you need it. “Just stay relaxed, we’ve got you.” 

“What’s the true story?” Sirius asks, trying to get you back on task. “What’s it about?” 

“This guy,” you answer. “He’s from Syria, but he lives in New Orleans and he’s there when Hurricane Katrina hits. I’m not that far in, but so far it’s about, like—” you swallow “—how he’s discriminated against even when he’s helping people.” 

Though you try to stop it, a tear skids down your cheek. Sirius wipes it away gently. “Yeah?” he asks you. “Are you liking it so far?” 

You nod, feeling more in your own body as you try to focus on the conversation. Even the panic is a bit of a relief, better than the strange weightlessness of your head when you’re on the brink of passing out. 

“I don’t think I would have picked it up if I’d known it was nonfiction,” you tell Sirius. He smiles wryly, which looks like it takes effort. “I usually only read fiction, but this was done really well.” 

“I think you’re right,” he replies. “Remus absolutely should read that.” 

“Not you?” James teases. 

Sirius shoots a mean look over your head, though you can tell he’s relieved at the familiar banter. “Are you volunteering?” he asks James. “No? Didn’t think so.” 

“Surely there’s a movie version we can watch instead. Lovie, do you know?” 

“I haven’t heard of one,” you admit, “but the book’s a bit older, so maybe the movie came out before I’d heard about it.” 

“We’ll have to look it up,” Sirius decides. “If it’s really that good, there’ll be a movie.” 

That’s something you could argue about forever, and he knows it, but just then you hear something snip and Remus says, “There.” 

“There?” you echo. 

Sirius looses a breath, and James hugs you tightly. “You’re all done, angel,” he says brightly. 

“Oh.” You feel, perhaps, not as relieved as you ought to, and Sirius chuckles at your confusion, taking your face between his hands and planting a kiss between your brows. 

“You really are done,” he promises you. “You killed it, babe.” 

James loosens his grip on you and Sirius moves his hand, letting you turn your head to see Remus securing a bandage over your palm. He looks up at you when he pulls off his gloves, pride and fondness mingled in his expression. His eyes narrow at the look on your face. 

“Hug?” he guesses, and you nod as you sit forward, wrapping your hands around his shoulders. 

It’s the closure you need, relief dissolving the tension in your muscles and gut as Remus’ thumb strokes your nape reassuringly. “Thanks,” you mumble into his shoulder. 

“You did it, darling,” he tells you. “Nothing to thank me for.” 

“Before I bled all over our counter, I was cutting tomatoes for pasta tonight,” you say. “I’ll finish it up when I get home so I can thank you with dinner.” 

Sirius scoffs loudly. “Yeah, fat chance. You’re not going near another knife for the rest of your life.” 

You roll your eyes as you pull away from Remus, but he raises an eyebrow at you, smiling faintly. “I’m with him on this one,” he says. “At least a temporary kitchen ban is in order.” 

You groan, leaning sideways until your shoulder rests on James’ chest. He wraps his arms around you automatically. “You guys are so lame,” you gripe. 

“Don’t worry, lovie,” says James, kissing the side of your nose lightly. “I’ll finish your pasta when we get home. Everybody wins.”

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Two ships (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Two people who do not understand each other, but keep coming back together. Familiar much? It’s the tale you share with your brother, Daemon.

Warnings: Crybaby! Reader. Medieval punishment for children. Canon character death (Alyssa and Baelor) Sexual thoughts. Prostitution. Mature language. Incest. Fluff.

A/N: In which we explore the complicated dynamics of the sister wife. Requested. We also suscribe to @just-some-random-blogger doctrine about Daemon being a scary unhinged man but soft for the reader.

THE FIRST TIME your brother makes you cry is when you are eight years old. It is, of course, not the first time you tear up because of him. But there is a difference between tearing up because he tugged too hard on your braid, or because he cut your favorite doll’s hair and what he did to you that day.

You shall never forget the reason for your mother’s death, not for the rest of your life. It’s one of those core memories, a truth of the universe. You cannot forget fire burns, you cannot forget water is wet, and you cannot forget your mother is dead because of you. Even if you do not know when you learned those facts, they are still there. Tucked into your mind.

As a child, you used to be quiet. You barely cried, or demanded things of anyone. As the youngest and only girl of the household, you often felt like there was an unbreachable gap between you and your family. And so, you filled your days with your lessons, and behaved well, eager for praise and attention.

Your relationship with your brothers was complicated. Your father was often far away, busy with his important position, so Viserys felt more like a parent than a sibling. The age difference didn’t help things along. While you were still learning how to walk, his betrothal was already negotiated.

Daemon, while much closer in age, is much more distant too. He is mercurial, playing the cruelest tricks on you, but also defending you from other children. Just last week, he had dyed your beloved white dog green, but he had also punched a steward’s son for mocking your braids.

He can never decide if he hates you or loves you. And today, it’s one of the days he hates you. You can’t do anything right, it seems. As you break your fast, with Viserys cutting up your food for you, he calls you a baby. When the Septa comes to get you for your lessons, you are a suck-up. His bad mood escalates during the day, and when your father arrives for lunch and dares ruffle your hair, Daemon doesn't hesitate to call you a cocksucker whore.

For his offense, his mouth is washed with soap. It is not a punishment you have ever endured, because everyone knows ladies don’t get physical punishments, but it looks unpleasant. Whatever cocksucker whore means mustn't be very nice.

By the time his punishment is over, your father is long gone again. He has disappeared into his chambers, and Viserys has been left with the bitter task of reconciling you.

“You will apologize to our sister.” He orders Daemon. “Now.”

“NO!” Daemon shrieks, face blotchy from the humiliation of his mouth being washed with soap. He has not shed a single tear, which you find admirable despite yourself. The taste alone would make you gag, and that is without including the humiliation of a servant holding you while Viserys does the deed.

You feel awkward at the thought. Something doesn’t sit right with the thought of such a thing being a punishment, but you do not dare voice it. You simply sit in the chair Viserys has pulled for you and kick your feet. It soothes you slightly.

“Take it back, Daemon or so help me the Seven…”

“I will not take it back!” Daemon screams, pushing at Viserys. “She is a little whore! She has you all wrapped around her little finger, and now you will send me away…”

“Daemon.” Viserys grabs his wrists, in warning. With several years and a growth spurt on his side, he manages to subdue him easily. You worry that will not be the case for much longer. Daemon looks very different from your peaceful Viserys, shoulders broader, hands a bit bigger. In a few years, he will become a fearsome warrior, and Viserys will still be your bookish older brother.

“Why do I have to go squire for some stupid lord, anyway? We are the blood of the dragon! We do not need those fools.” At this new information, you frown. You clutch your doll more tightly. No one had informed you Daemon had to go squire away from Viserys and you.

“Fostering is important. It helps us form bonds with other houses.” Viserys explains, with the patience of someone who has had this argument already. You tug on your doll, feeling sadder by the minute. Everyone knew but you?

“Why don’t we send her away?” Daemon points at you, and a sudden wave of fear hits you. Viserys can’t agree with him. You cannot leave. Your panic almost makes you miss his next words. “She is the reason mother is dead. I hate her.”

And the world stops for a second. The argument goes on, Viserys screaming at Daemon, but you are still stuck there. Your ears begin to ring, so you press your hands tightly to them and shake your head.

By the Seven, Daemon is right, you realize with growing horror. Your father and Septa always told you your mother had died the way you were born, from the difficult birth. Tears begin to fall down your face, but you barely notice them. It feels like you are choking.

In your childish mind, the death of your mother in childbirth, and your birth had never been connected. You never thought it had been your fault. But Daemon was right. She was dead because she had birthed you. It was your birth that killed her.

Her death was your fault. You killed her.

No. No. It can’t be right.

“That is not true.” You turn to Viserys, uncaring they have long since moved on with the argument. He has always protected you and reassured you. Even takes care to get rid of the monsters beneath your bed every night. He will fix it. “Brother, he is lying again!”

Viserys makes a strange face. A cross between a grimace and a frown. He doesn’t refute it, nor tries to comfort you.

“It’s the truth.” Daemon smiles, with the smugness of someone who has delivered a killing blow. He advances, his eleven-year-old body seeming larger than life to you, and pokes a finger in your sternum. “You killed her.”

It feels like a rug has been pulled from under your feet. You stumble back. It’s all your fault. Your mother is dead, and your father is never home, haunted by the memory of his wife, because of you. Daemon and Viserys lost their mother, because of you.

You killed her. You killed her. You killed her. The world looks the same around you, despite the revelation, and you wonder if it is so because everyone knew but you. Is it why Daemon doesn’t love you? Why father is never around?

A sob makes its way out of your throat, and then another. And another. Soon, you are bawling like a dying animal, and feel like it too. You cry so much, your little heart feels like it will jump out of your chest and you will die. You cannot breathe, choking in your own snot and tears, and panic makes you nauseous.

Never in your life had you ever cried so. A nervous fit, the Maester will call it later, after you puke your lunch and stop making heaving noises like you are lacking air. One caused by extreme distress. Daemon will be standing guard at the foot of your bed when you come to be again. They had ended up having to give you three drops of Milk of the Poppy to calm you down.

It doesn’t happen again, and you barely remember it when you grow up. But Daemon never forgets it.

CRYING IS A weakness that cannot be tolerated. The three of you had been born dragons, but sometimes Daemon doubted Viserys and you had as much fire in your veins as he did.

Said doubt intensifies when he finds you crying in the gardens. Daemon has never been fond of crying women. He is not an empathetic man, and has a tendency to think he is surrounded by fools. Such a character trait doesn’t lend itself to soothing crying maidens. At least, not sincerely.

If he wants to bed the chit, Daemon can pretend like the best mummer. It’s not hard at all to fool highborn maidens into thinking he shares something special with them, convincing them that the pain won’t last, that it will start to feel good soon. When it comes to you, though, the problems start.

You are not a common whore, like most women at court. As a daughter of House Targaryen, you are closer to a goddess than a woman. Fooling a goddess is no easy task, much less when the goddess knows you so well.

His usual tricks do not work. When Daemon tries to apply faux pity, and forced pleasantries, you see right through him. It’s not because you are particularly cunning, but rather the fact that you have a long memory.

Long enough to remember all the pranks and fun he had had at your expense when the two of you were children. With how much Daemon tortured you, it’s no wonder you prefer Viserys.

Daemon never meant to be as nasty to you as he had been. He coveted the attention Viserys paid you, as the youngest in the family. He disliked how everyone fawned over you, how his mother had died, and his father had left, and all they had gotten in exchange was you.

Another part of Daemon simply enjoyed mischief. Causing chaos for chaos’s sake. Like any young boy, he had fun playing tricks on others. The disdain he felt for you had made you into the ideal target.

When the years began to pass, Daemon had noticed you were flourishing into a beautiful maiden. Targaryen custom dictated you were meant to be his, since you were too young to be Viserys’. There was no point in fixing your relationship, or trying to win you over like he did with the other maidens. You were a given thing. No matter your shared past, you would have to marry him.

It’s only the fact that you are embarrassing the family name that prompts him to approach you in the gardens. He has no intention of comforting you. It’s not like he cares that you are crying. Really. How ridiculous.

“What happened to you?” Daemon asks, sitting next to you. “Princess shouldn’t cry.”

It is quite recent, of course. Viserys' ascension to the throne has not actually yet occurred, but the succession issue has been settled in their favor. Daemon had gathered a small force of loyal men that hadn’t been necessary in the end, but Viserys said his first act as King would be rewarding him from his loyalty.

He knows what he will ask for already. Marriage. His grandmother had tried to marry him to a Vale woman, but the idea had ended up being discarded because Viserys’ own match ensured the allegiance of that kingdom. Daemon wanted to have his Valyrian bride before anyone, especially the Hightower cunt, got any ideas.

“Nothing.” You wipe your tears away, angrily. You scoot your cute little rear towards the edge of the tree you are sitting under. As far as you can go without losing the spot of shade.

Daemon sighs. He is used to you being difficult, but it would soon change. You would be informed of your duty and behave in a manner befitting your position in life soon enough.

“Do I need to protect your honor?” The very thought unsettles him. Three years his younger, you are still barely a maiden in his eyes. A pure, unspoiled being. The idea of someone else corrupting your innocence, something that is meant to be his, is infuriating. Daemon hates when other people touch what is his.

If anyone will corrupt you, it’s him.

You laugh, bitterly.

“If only!”

“What do you mean?” Your statement has clarified nothing. He feels more confused than before. Perhaps, you have a secret lover who refuses to take your maidenhead? Or are you suffering from unrequited love? But when? With whom? You spend nearly all your time in the library, pouring over dusty books, or on dragonback. Not much time for entertaining suitors.

You stay quiet. There is a strange expression on your face, a mix of embarrassment and sadness.

“Hāedus.” Daemon prompts, gently tugging on your braid.

“Some ladies Aemma brought were talking about knights, and kissing…” You get a fit of hiccups and nearly choke, so Daemon is forced to wipe the snot from your nose so you don’t suffocate to death. Let it not be said he is a bad brother. “They laughed at me!”

“They laughed at you?” How dare them. Only Daemon was allowed the honor of your tears. You were too important.

“No one asked to dance with me at the feast! And no knight has ever kissed me.” You pout, about to go into hysterics again. “Ever.”

“Doña hāedus…” Daemon wipes your tears, fighting his smile. He has an inkling you wouldn’t think it funny. “You shouldn’t listen to them. You are a Princess, the blood of the dragon. They are just sheep.”

You pout more. Daemon hurries to comfort you. Oddly, he dislikes seeing tears on your face. It must be because you are in public. As a Princess and his future wife, your actions reflect on House Targaryen.

“Ugly sheep. In fact, the actual sheep in the Vale are prettier.”

“But knights have kissed them! And they get asked to dance, and to walk in the gardens, and…”

Daemon raises his hand.

“Knights would kiss you too if they could. But you are too superior to them. They wouldn’t dare.” Or they would meet Dark Sister. All your first should be his. “It’s excellent that you have not sullied yourself with just any knight who looks at you.”

“But I am getting old.”

You are about to cry again. Your female vanity must be hurt, thinking yourself unwanted. Daemon will never understand caring about what others think of him. Dragons shouldn’t concern themselves with the opinion of the sheep.

But there is something about you, the soft little Princess who crumbles up completely when someone is mean to her, that tugs at his heartstrings.

It is why he leans in and captures your mouth with his. You taste like innocence and salt, melting on his tongue. It’s not Daemon’s first kiss, but it feels like it. There is a tug deep inside of him, a strange yearning on his chest, that has not been present when he has kissed other women. Not even maidens.

Cloyingly sweet, dripping on his tongue like the most enticing potion. His. Never has he experienced this before. Daemon wants to drown on it, drown in you. But before he has a chance, you give him a shove and run as fast as you can.

And he stands there, as if struck by lighting, pinned down by the unmeasurable realization that this is love. Love, in its purest form, for his soon-to-be sister wife. It leaves him dazed, confused, rooted to the spot. Utterly out of control.

“DID YOU HEAR?” The serving girl whispers loudly, her voice carrying through the corridor. Night has fallen already, and you pour over a heavy tome on constellations while sitting in one of the windowsills of the Red Keep. It is the best time to put your new knowledge into practice, but the constant chattering of the maids interrupts you.

You close your book, hesitating between scolding them and sending them away, or waiting for them to leave on their own. Scolding them feels unkind. It’s late enough for them to no longer be on duty, and there is no harm in what they are doing. This corridor is a heavily transited one.

Perhaps you should move to your rooms. But you do not have a balcony, and the view from your windowsill it’s quite limited. As you ponder on it, something they say catches your attention.

“And they say the Prince asked for a blonde girl. A maiden.” The Prince. Daemon! You have not seen hide nor hair of your older brother since he stole your first kiss. In fact, you have been avoiding him.

As children, he had played plenty of nasty tricks on you. Once, in a fit of temper, he had beheaded all your dolls and hanged their little heads from a window. But adulthood had mellowed him out. Or so you thought.

The worst thing wasn’t that Daemon stole your first kiss. It was that you enjoyed it.

“No!” The other girl sounds scandalized.

“Yes. And that is not all. He took her roughly, and was kicked out before even…”

Took a whore roughly? You knew he whored around, but hurting whores was a new low. You weren’t too approving of his behavior, but whoring was normal for young lords. Everyone knew they did it, even the most pious ones. Hurting them, though? It was no better than being a rapist.

The other girl lets out a gasp, but she sounds more delighted by the gossip than anything else.

“Imagine how rough it had to be for them to kick him out.”

“I would say plenty. Poor girl.”

“He is out again, is he not?”

“Every night, like clockwork. Something has roused his appetite, it seems. He used to whore, but not…”

Their scandalized voices drift down the corridor, and you think the rumor must be wrong. Daemon wouldn’t hurt anyone. Sure, he whored around, and took plenty of maidenheads, but your brother wasn’t cruel.

Was he?

He had stolen your first kiss. Beyond the softness and the sweetness of the kiss, Daemon had ruined a moment that was meant to be special. Now, it was forever tainted with the memory of being made a mockery of. Not only by those girls, but him too.

There was a difference between stealing a kiss and hurting whores, though. Much more, when it came to hurting them seriously enough to be kicked out of the pleasure house.

Was it your fault? Had he discovered with you he enjoyed taking from women by force? Was he taking out his anger with you on them? The maid had said the girl was blonde. Perhaps Valyrian blonde.

You needed to know. You ran to your rooms and got your black cloak, set on finding him.

Finding Daemon was no easy task. You made it to the city on foot, but once there, you had trouble locating the pleasure houses. There was no sign outwardly pointing to them, but you managed to get to Flea Bottom without getting mugged. Or at least, this looked like what you thought Flea Bottom looked like.

The streets were dirtier, the crowd rougher and drunker. There were people sleeping on the floor, no Sept in sight. This was a place far away from the Gods. The few Goldcloaks patrolling seemed uninterested in actually preventing crime.

You made sure to walk with purpose, afraid of being stopped if you looked like you were out of place. The streets were badly lit, and you could barely tell apart one alley from another.

A sudden tune caught your attention. A woman was singing in a tongue you didn’t recognize. You decided to follow her voice, but before you could do so, someone blocked your path.

“… A dragon for half an hour.” It was a woman. Her hair was dark and hanging limp around her face. She swayed as she walked. “My prince, I will let you choke me.”

You made a face, realizing a strand of your silver hair was peeking on the edge of your hood. She thought you were Daemon, you realized. Both your brother and you kept your hair long, and in the darkness of the alley, with your hood up, you may have looked alike. Was she a whore?

“I’ll let you. A dragon, please, I need to feed my children.”

Children. She had babes. You imagined them, tucked in their beds, wondering where their mother had gone. What if something happened to her? If the children had a present father, he would provide for them, and she wouldn’t be here. It was how the world worked. She must be alone with the babes.

You reached inside your cloak, and pulled out a gold dragon. There was an odd sort of pity building inside you. You imagined yourself, offering up your body to strangers to feed your children, and your heart shattered into little pieces.

You had never questioned the role of whores. They were sullied women, but they served a purpose. Entertain the men so they didn’t hurt others. Tend to their baser needs. It didn’t feel so clear-cut as you avoided the woman, in fear she might attempt to service you.

The voice sounded louder, so you ducked into the next alleyway. It was then you saw them.

The woman singing was sitting at the entrance of a small house. She was scantily clad, as were the surrounding women. But there was only one of them who caught your attention.

She was tall and willowy, with long limbs. There was a haunting elegance to her that looked out of place in the Street of Silk. Her blonde hair was long, and in the right light, could be mistaken for silver. It cascaded down her shoulders. Her face was eerily similar to your own. She was tragically beautiful, stricken by some unseen grief.

Sitting down and clapping along to the song, she looked as if she was praying. There was a dark stain on her neck, cleverly hidden by her hair. The closer you looked, the more it seemed like a bite mark. Not just any bite. A vicious one.

You gasped, hands coming to your mouth to muffle the sound. Whores had never been of concern to you, but now you were seeing their reality, and it was heartbreaking. The thought of women in brothels, in cages, as pleasure slaves, made you want to weep.

Women like you. That she wore your face was even more jarring.

WHEN CARAXES HAD been born, he had not done so alone. Out of the ether, his sister had come, hands linked with his. Meraxes, goddess of the sky, an eternity doomed to hold to her sibling. Caraxes only reflected his twin’s colors, gazing up at her as the flowers did the sun.

It was said that they met only once a day, thanks to the mercy of Gaelithox, who allowed the twins to embrace every sunset. It was the reason Meraxes hated him. He held on to her too strong, and prevented her from embracing the one who she truly loved. He invaded even her reflection, seeking to make himself a part of her, even invading her sacred reflection in the waters of her twin.

The story was always one of your favorites. You begged Viserys every night to tell it to you, sickening Daemon with your romantic tales. He isn’t sure why he is reminded of it today, of all days.

Foreboding, he will think later, when the storm has passed. But now, he chooses to focus on the coronation taking place in front of him, and bask in their triumph.

“Kings reward loyalty.” Viserys says, after the crown is placed on his head by a proud Aemma. “And my first act will be rewarding those that stood by my side.”

Daemon and you are kneeling, the first among the crowd. The first to take a knee to their King. There is a strange feeling in his throat, and he fights the urge to cry. Daemon has always considered tears a weakness, but the moment is so perfect, so magical, he feels the urge to do so.

Men don’t cry. Instead, they take big breaths, and savor their victory. Viserys on the Iron Throne, and Daemon about to be given your hand. All they have ever wanted, now ripe for the taking.

“Brother, please rise.” Viserys' voice is clear and loud. Daemon does so, pleased by the honor of being the first to rise in front of the masses. They had talked about it, of putting up a show for their political enemies, but Daemon had never expected Viserys to grant him honors before any other of his advisors. “Your diplomatic and martial skills were essential to securing my claim. As a reward, I give to you our sister’s hand, and name you my heir. May the two of you have a fruitful union and make House Targaryen proud.”

And when he turns to you, with a smile on his face, he realizes why he remembered the story of Caraxes and Meraxes.

Your beautiful, purple eyes, are wet with tears. You remain on bent knee, frozen.

Daemon pulls you up with the utmost tenderness, one reserved for family alone. The hand on your elbow seems to shake you out of your stupor.

“Thank you, my King.” Your voice trembles, but you speak the words dutifully. You know as well as him that this is Viserys’ day. Everything has to go perfectly. There can’t be any hint of division between the three of you, not when the rallying cry for Viserys had been that he was bringing back the three heads of the dragon.

Three siblings. Three dragonriders. Aegon, Visenya, Rhaenys.

“It is a great honor.” Daemon adds, tightening his grip on your arm. You look ready to bolt, and he is tasked with reminding you that you can’t.

A silent tear travels down your cheek. With your back to the crowd, no one but Viserys and Daemon can see it. Viserys gives him a long look, pleading him to do something. Neither of them had been expecting your reaction.

They had thought you would settle well into your duty. That marriage would give you a stable tether, a shield for your fragile soul. Viserys had chosen Daemon for the honor, had given you to him to care and protect.

But you seem even more scared that you were before. How wrong had they been.

“We are very excited.” Daemon hugs you to him, fighting to keep his composure. Your rejection stings, and he wants to rage, but he can’t. Because you are in public, and House Targaryen doesn’t air their dirty laundry in front of witnesses, but more importantly because your dam is breaking. You let out a little sob, and Daemon has to embrace you fully to prevent you from falling apart.

Fools that they are, the rest of the courtiers mistake it for a sound of joy. What else could you want? To marry the King’s heir, a Valyrian husband who can give you pure Valyrian babes.

“Good.” Viserys smiles, a bit strained. You take a shuddery breath, and straighten up under his arm. Daemon can practically feel the change, from scared girl, to experienced courtier. You know as well as he does the importance of presenting a united front.

You smile. It’s as fake as the silks whores wear, when pretending to be a Targaryen Princess. To the inexperienced masses, it tears all the same.

“How joyful days come ahead. Long live the King!”

You open your arms, the picture of the hopeful bride. The smile threatens to crack your face in two. The crowd cheers. A royal wedding is always something to admire, and there is no better way of celebrating a coronation than with one.

The hour is late when Daemon finally manages to catch Viserys alone. You have gone straight to your rooms after the feast, sulking. Aemma has been sat outside your door for hours by now, trying to coax you out like one would do to a skittish cat. Her talks of duty and royal wombs only got her a pillow to the face for her efforts.

Daemon and Viserys, much more used to your moods, hadn’t bothered. You were angry, but not hysterical. Both often manifested in tears in your case. Only one could prove lethal.

“I do not understand.” Viserys frowns. “What more can she want? The two of you will get Dragonstone, for a few years at least, and when I have an heir, you will not be kicked out. You are family.”

“I do not understand it either.” Underneath the simmering rage Daemon feels, there is only confusion. He is a knight, and has proven his skills sufficiently enough to be awarded Dark Sister. He is of an equal standing to you, a Prince to a Princess. He loves you so deeply it scares him.

The Seven know he has tried to get you out of his head through every means possible. He has deflowered more maidens that he can count this week alone, his cock is chafed raw, and yet, no matter how beautiful they are, your face still haunts him. It’s your name on his lips when he comes, and your body he pictures under him. The whores are never right. Their hair is the wrong shade, they are too thin or too fat, their tears taste of iron instead of your sweet salt.

You should not think it is a bad thing. Women love that sort of thing, leading men by their cocks, getting them so cuntstruck they cannot see straight. You should love it too because it is a weakness to him, but a power you can wield. And yet, you hate it. You had run.

“I cannot go back on my word now.” Viserys reaches for his cup of wine. He knows that his reign is still fragile, and if his lords see his sister defying him, they might get ideas. “She has to marry someone, and with her delicate constitution, I cannot in good conscience…”

“Handing her to a stranger is a bad idea.” Daemon agrees, not out of some selfish motivation, but because he knows it’s the truth. You have always been far more delicate than most ladies, with your books and silly ideas about the role women should play. Had you not been so closely tied to Viserys, you may have even supported Rhaenys.

If Viserys was Aegon, you were Rhaenys. The sensitive little sister, loved because of her innocence and kindness. You never tried to push your strange ideas, after all. You just looked like a kicked puppy when contradicted.

Any other man would crush you at the first hint of defiance. Daemon, used to you as he was, knew rage was futile. If you wouldn’t settle in your duties easily, he had to take action and ensure you did through other means.

Gentler means. Daemon still remembered the fits you used to have when little. Viserys did too. Neither wanted a repetition.

“I have thought about it, and you should forgo the bedding.”

“I agree. It might make her sick.” Sick is the euphemism they use for your fits when there are prying ears. Daemon gives a pointed glance at the guards. Viserys drops the topic after that.

Almost against his will, when the embers of the fire they sit in front of die, Daemon goes to your rooms. He isn’t really thinking, when he walks down the hallways that lead to your chambers instead of his. Nor is he thinking when he dismisses your guards, and opens your door.

You are laying on your side, a pillow held to your thighs. Your hands are made into fists over them, as if you had fallen asleep in your rage still. Despite it, your face is peaceful, with only dried tear tracks to disturb your childish expression.

Your body is curled into itself, tightly. You must be cold, Daemon thinks, and takes of his cloak to lay it over your form.

In dreams, you smile. And Daemon understands that he is no Gaelithox. There was a reason Caraxes and Meraxes were only allowed to embrace once a day, after all.

HORROR AND RAGE are not emotions that lend itself to permanence. At least, not in you. Not when it comes to him.

Not when he plays such strange game, and gets you strange prizes. Daemon has not asked for his cloak back. You have taken to sleeping wrapped up underneath it.

How can a man capable of such cruelty be capable of such tenderness? Confusion means ignorance, and ignorance breeds fear. You have known Daemon all your life, but you are still unable to understand him.

The only certainty you have is that when he is near, your rationality flies out of the window. It’s all instinctual. To fight, to fuck, to fucking fight.

The sleep of reason produces monsters. Monsters that take hold of your heart and squeeze it, until it is no more than liquid and pulp. Did he hurt that woman? Will he hurt you? Love you?

Daemon had stolen your first kiss. Daemon had gotten kicked out of a brothel. There was a girl in the Street of Silk with a bite mark on her neck. He had visited you the night of your betrothal and tucked you in.

It might mean nothing. It might mean everything. Whichever it is, you have no time to come to terms with it. Viserys wishes for the two of you to be married by the end of this moon. It makes you feel even more blindsided and betrayed.

None of them had thought to ask you before deciding. They had just done so.

The idea of marrying your brother wasn’t what came as a great shock. As a child, you had often daydreamed of honoring your ancestors and becoming your brother’s wife. It was the way things should be. But you had always thought you would marry Viserys.

When Viserys married Aemma, you thought you would marry someone outside your household. Daemon and you were clearly ill-suited, even before everything that had happened between the two of you.

Betrothing the two of you would be madness. You had never understood each other in the manner Viserys and him did. You were an outsider to their relationship, the other head of the dragon. Rhaenys to her conquerors.

But inexplicably, Viserys had done so. Being betrothed to him without even being asked about it stung. No one had thought to warn you, or ask for your opinion. They had simply announced it to court and hoped you would comply.

The feeling of betrayal had only mellowed out after asking Viserys his reasoning. He hadn’t been trying to blindside you, he had explained. He had thought you would be happy. Both Daemon and you yearned for Valyrian partners. It made sense to betroth the two of you, especially because Daemon had asked to marry soon.

Your brothers were just dumb. But their foolishness was a dangerous one, since they rode the two biggest dragons of your generation and sat on the Iron Throne. Common fools could undo the damage they caused.

But in your case, there was no way out but through. Viserys had begged you to give Daemon a chance, and so, you found yourself preparing for meeting him.

Viserys had chosen the place the two of you would meet. The Godswood was neutral territory, and far away from the castle that if you started shouting insults at each other, only the Kingsguard shadowing you would hear.

It only made you dread the encounter further. You had taken a liking to the Godswood, and were contemplating using it as a hideaway for when things at court got to be too much. If this went wrong, it would forever taint the place for you.

You decide to arrive early, to allow yourself some time to compose yourself. Daemon beats you to it, already waiting near a tree when you get there.

“Hāedus,” Daemon says, when he sees you. In a show of rebellion, you have decided to wear your more modest gown, with a neckline that nearly reaches your ears. Aemma had encouraged you to wear something more revealing, but you wanted to strangle the cow. “You look lovely.”

“Lēkia.” You press a kiss to his cheek, unsure if you should greet him like you always do, or the betrothal has changed the protocol. Kissing his cheek as you always do seems safer, but you regret it when his eyes flutter closed at your touch.

He is acting odder than usual. In an increasingly out-of-character charm offensive, he takes off his cloak and places it on the grass.

“So you may sit.” His tone is too formal. It makes you even more wary, but you sit. Daemon does the same, by your side. So close, you end up frowning more.

He leans in. His lips brush the shell of your ear.

“Despite my struggles, I have come to admire you.” Daemon noses along the hair right above your ear. “Rationality has left me, and no matter how hard I try, you haunt me at every corner, every hallway, every street of this damned city.”

“What am I supposed to say?” You complain, with a frown. You push him a little, to be able to meet his eyes.“I am well aware of your attempts at forgetting. Valyrian whores, Daemon? Really?”

“It was all in vain.” He pulls you back in, embracing you. His hands are warm around your stomach, his lips chafed against the skin of your neck. “Let me take down your hair.”

Your eyebrows raise. Out of all things he can ask for, this is the weirdest one. His petition is so simple and innocent, you almost think he is not Daemon.

“Let me take down your hair.” Daemon begs. The ardent tone in his voices surprises you. He sounds like a man possessed. As if he cannot survive if you deny him. “Hāedus...”

This devotion, this unexpected fit of love, surprises you. So much, you find yourself nodding.

You feel his chest contract with his sudden inhale. His hands are careful as they unmake your braid. His touch so tender, even the most delicate hairdresser would envy it. But when your hair falls down your back, in mussed tendrils, he shows himself to be Daemon.

His nose presses to your temple, breathing you in. His fingers run through your hair, and he presses feverish kisses to your scalp, your jaw, your ear. Licks the sweat behind it, samples your earlobe with his teeth.

Teeth. It makes you tense. You think of the girl in Flea Bottom, of the bite over her throat.

“I can’t stop thinking of you. You appear before me in the darkest corners, and in the brightest meadows.” Daemon inhales, hands grasping your waist tightly. “When I squired, away from home, I couldn’t get you out of my head. I didn’t know it was love then, but I have loved you since before I knew what the word meant. I fucked the tightest cunts of Westeros, sampled the prettiest maidens, and yet it is your face that I imagine when tugging at my cock.”

Something inside you snaps. Among the righteous indignation, a strange satisfaction takes place. You shove him off you.

“Don’t be crass!”

Daemon doesn’t attempt to embrace you again, but remains unbearably close. Your eyes drift to his lips. You would love him even if he were the one who mauled the whore. You would love him even if he did it to you. Because of it, perhaps.

“I want you to be mine. Put me out of my misery.” Daemon begs, tucking your hair behind your ears. “Marry me, and end my suffering.”

“You frighten me.” You whisper, without quite meaning to.

“Do you fear I will hurt you?” Daemon asks you, voice very gentle.

You avert your eyes. It’s not that what you fear. It’s how out of control you are when it comes to him.

“I would never.” He vows, leaning in. His lips brush against yours, before Daemon presses his forehead to yours. He looks into your eyes, and smiles. “Do you remember the last time we kissed?”

“Of course I do, you idiot.” You scowl at the memory. “You stole…”

“No. You were crying because no knight…” He gets up, and begins to tug you to your feet. You remain sitting. “Oh, get up, you stubborn thing.”

“Daemon!” You complain, but get up. He stands a few feet away from you. Curious about the point he intends to make, you cross your arms over your chest and glare.

He offers you his hand, as if to dance. You take it, eyes full of distrust.

“I have been a cunt. But you have to stop running.” Daemon circles you, pulling on your hand slightly. Is he…? Your confusion must show on your face because he gives you a mocking glance. “To dance from afar is not to dance.”

“What do you mean?”

“You might as well be in Essos.” Daemon keeps circling you. “Let us dance properly, for once.”

“Here? Dance?” There is no music. And your brother has never been one for bursting into spontaneous song and dance. At least, you don’t think so.

“Together. You wanted knights to ask you to.” Daemon pulls you close, into a hug, and the puzzle pieces finally fit. The day he had kissed you, you had been crying because no one had asked you to dance. That Daemon remembers the reason when you had nearly forgotten it yourself astonishes you. “Now a Prince asks you. Do not make me ask twice, please.”

“Let us try. To dance as if glued by fire. Let me prove I can be good to you. That I listen to you. ”

And it’s stupid. It’s silly, there is not even music. But you let him pull you in, this time, and realize Daemon has always been capable of tenderness. At least, when it comes to you.

[astro-inky]

the aquamarine au

Info about au below (or at least what i have so far)

-based on the 2006 move Aquamarine, a teen romcom about two teenage girls meeting a mermaid and helping her find love to achieve their wish of one of them not moving away (its my childhood). this au takes basic plot ideas from the movie but with major changes

Jimmy and Joel are both 17. Jimmy's family owns a small, local beach resort where he also lives. Joel lives next door and they're basically attached at the hip and spend all their time at the resort. It's tense between them because Joel is moving far away by the end of the summer.

Scar is 19. He's been working at the beach as a lifeguard since he was in high school. Local sweetheart, everybody loves him. Seems like he sucks at his job, but nothing wrong ever really happens on his shift. Known flrt.

Grian is an unknown age but closer to Scar than Jimmy and Joel. I'm still working out his part. He's a mermaid who ran away from home. The Watchers are a group who protect mermaid pods but have very strict rules and archaic views; such as there is no such thing as love and have arranged a marriage for Grian he doesn't want (The Watchers in this au are less Mega Evil and more Parents Who Don't Understand and Kind Of Suck). He runs away to prove love exists. In doing so, getting into a major fight with his sister.

Grian gets caught in a storm and washes up into the pool of the beach resort, where Jimmy and Joel find him. They are SUPER cautious at first, but immediately offer to help him find true love when Grian tells them that helping a mermaid grants them a wish. They're hoping to use the wish to make it so Joel's family doesn't move away.

Grian is a bit oblivious to the human world, but even more so to the concept of love, because it is not common in the mer world. This leads Grian to believe anyone can love you with a bat of an eyelash, which leads him to try to woo the first interesting person who catches his eyes; aka Scar. When it doesn't immediately work, he's actually quite pissed off and thinks its Scar's fault for not falling in love with him. Jimmy and Joel proceed to make a plan to match the two together because Scar is so nice and probably the only person willing to give this weird and off putting mermaid a chance.

Unlike the movie, which takes place over a couple days, this au takes place over the course of a month or two, so there is even more chemistry between the cast. Hijinks and cringey romcom shenanigans ensue.

The ending is very different from the movie (im still thinking about it i dont have a lot for this au please go watch Aquamarine tho its my childhood and i love it)

uhhhhh IDK WHO IS GOOD FOR A CECILLIA CHARACTER. ok in the movie theres a character named cecillia shes the typical mean girl trying to stop the main characters from getting together. i wanna put someone in this role bc shes iconic and has funny moments im inspired by but im having a hard time thinking of someone who fits the role. any ideas for this or any thoughts at all are welcome, this au is for fun!!!

[keferon]

"Once Swindle says Blurr’s name out loud, there will be no going back. Swindle has no doubts Onslaught will approve. He has no doubts Blurr will say yes." - A closer look at what might have been going through Swindle's mind at the end of Blurr Chapter 3

---------------------------------------

Swindle’s hand moves subconsciously to grasp the phone in his pocket as he thinks.  It’s not his work phone.  No.  This is a phone with only five numbers in it.

Swindle can feel Onslaught watching him across the desk.  He shifts to cover the extra time it’s taking him to respond – to think.  Not that Onslaught is likely fooled.  They know each other better than just about anyone else could.  But the act is such a habit that it’s impossible to drop. 

And Swindle does need to consider this -- carefully.  Because he knows exactly the kind of person Onslaught’s looking for.

Five numbers in the phone.

Only four of them are active.

And that number could drop at any moment.  That’s been the reality of their lives for years now.  Ever since Vortex. 

Swindle doesn’t even entirely know why he keeps Vortex’s number in the phone except perhaps out of habit.  It’s not as if he’s actually expecting to ever use it again, whatever Ons might say about ghost activity in his accounts.  Swindle has never received a ghost call.  He never expects to. 

One number is dead.

Three others are at risk.  Always have been.  That’s reality.

And the last…. 

Does Swindle really want to add the last number – the only outsider to make the list -- to their reality?  That’s the question he has a fraction of a moment to answer.

Because once he says Blurr’s name out loud, there will be no going back.  Swindle has no doubts Onslaught will approve.  He has no doubts Blurr will say yes.

That thought makes something twinge in Swindle’s gut.  He knows now, as they’ve gotten older, that Blurr was never quite as naïve, never quite as ignorant to the realities of the world outside his own privileged lifestyle as Swindle had believed him to be when they first met.  But still, the exact extent of what Blurr does and does not understand about Mecha is known only to the man himself. 

Swindle has never told Blurr their secrets and he has no intention of starting now.  It has always been nice to have someone who Swindle can act like he’s living a normal life with, even if just for an hour or two.  Swindle will lose that, he knows.  But they’ve all lost things before.  They will lose things again.  That’s reality.  They’ve already come this far.

Onslaught says they need someone to act as a social shield between the average pilot and the higher ups.  Someone who can be recognized as the person behind the machine.  Someone who can bring attention to basic issues like mech safety.  Someone far enough on the outside to still believe in things like the goodness of people and the heroic premise of saving humanity that Mecha has built up.  (Someone that hasn’t had that belief stamped out of them by years of the training and the testing and the unceasing, caring violence of the war.) 

Blurr meets all their criteria, Swindle knows.  Blurr will agree if Swindle asks, even as Swindle knows he will have no idea exactly what it is he’s signing on to. 

Blurr can act as their shield.  And Swindle – Swindle will take on the responsibility of shielding Blurr from the truth.

Ooohhh fuck oh I love this gmdmfjjgkd

The inactive number PLEASE. It's. Yes. Swindle would bitch about Vortex being huge pain in the ass and then keep his number saved after his death. I'm fine

Also Swindle basically destroyed his last little island of normal life when he got Blurr involved and I can easily imagine he would often regret it. He would also question the decision A LOT after the incident with the fire.

Damn...Imagine hating the shiny smiley guy who lured you into literal hell and then one day looking at yourself and thinking - I'm that guy now...

Side note. Because I can't stop thinking of it. What if Vortex decides to call Swindle during the whole Shockwave situation? You know..like. When he breaks free from Shockwave's mind control he also breaks the programming that was preventing him from moving without a pilot? And for the first time he has actual freedom to do whatever he wants?

What if he tries to call Swindle? What if after all those years Swindle's phone rings and for a second Swindle can't even fucking believe his eyes when he sees who is calling? Just. You know haha. Just a thought:)