#because this is still one of my favorite places to hang around make content for and I have so many friends here I care about

[yuyusbabygirl]

Darling Mine

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

word count: 2.35k

content warnings: SMUT, 18+ MINORS DNI, dom/sub dynamics, dom!Yunho, sub!reader, reader is tied up, oral (fem receiving), choking, safe sex, slight possessiveness, aftercare

summary: You spend the night at your boyfriend's place for the first time and he really likes it when you wear his clothes

You wake up alone in Yunho’s bed. He must’ve already gotten up. As you lay there, you think back to last night. It was the first night you spent at your boyfriend’s apartment after dating for a month. You both decided to take things slow.

“I want to do this right. I plan to spend the rest of my life with you so we have all the time in the world,” he said to you when you asked why he had never tried to initiate anything sexual.

Truth be told, it had scared you. You had never been with a guy so honest about his intentions, so all in. You thought he simply might not want you in that way. He sure proved you wrong last night. He had taken you out on a date because you had both not seen each other for a week due to work. Yunho had taken you on a picnic in the park where he had first met you. You had both talked for hours, catching up on each other’s lives, feeding each other bits of food. A sudden rain shower had forced you two to run to his apartment, giggling the whole way. You were both drenched when you arrived. You had stood in his hallway, breathing heavily as you looked at each other. Yunho had walked to you, taking you into his arms and slowly started kissing you. You undressed each other carefully and he carried you to his bed.

As you lay there now, still naked, you couldn’t help but touch your lips. You remember how softly he kissed you, like you were the most precious thing he had ever touched. A soft giggle escapes you. He was soft and gentle the whole night, constantly praising you, bringing you over the edge multiple times before he even thought of his own pleasure. It was unusual for you. Not that guys before him had been horrible in bed, you just never had sex with a guy that cared so much about your pleasure than his own. You had fallen asleep in his arms for the first time and as you lay there now you decide you never want to sleep anywhere else again.

Deciding you can’t lay in bed forever, you sit up. You look around Yunho’s room but remember how you stripped off in the hallway. You see his favorite flannel hanging over his gaming chair and put it on. It is already oversized on Yunho so you completely drown in it. But it is soft and it smells like him.

You make your way to the kitchen where you see Yunho struggling with the frying pan. Oh no, he’s trying to cook. Bad idea. He had tried to cook for you for your second date and burned the rice. You have no idea how someone can burn rice but you decided that Yunho should never cook again.

“Hey, you really think you should be cooking? We both know what happened last ti-“ you did not get to finish your sentence because as soon as you spoke Yunho looked up and saw you. Tousled hair from last night, his hickeys still on your neck. And you in his clothes. Before you could reprimand him more for attempting to cook he was on you. He grabbed your face and kissed you, pushing you back against the wall.

The kiss was messy and desperate. A stark contrast to last night. Last night he wanted to be soft and gentle because it was your first night together. He had no mind for soft and gentle now after seeing you in his clothes. You looked so fucking tiny. So fucking soft. And so fucking his.

One of his hands moves from your face to your hair, roughly tugging it back so he could deepen the kiss, while the other moves to your bare thigh. He slides his hand upwards and let out a possessive growl when he realizes you were naked underneath. He had always known that he was possessive over you. The first time he gave you his jacket when you were cold he nearly threw his promise of taking things slow out the window. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you in his favorite flannel, walking out of his bedroom after he made love to you the whole night.

He picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and carries you back to his bed. His lips never leave yours, messily licking into your mouth, swallowing your mewls that went straight to his cock.

As he throws you down his bed you gasp and look up at him. You had suspected that there was more to your lovely boyfriend than this sweet and gentle façade. As you lay there breathlessly he looks down at you, his expression dark with a possessive glint that you had seen in his eyes once or twice before. But he had always covered it up very quickly. It seems he was finally done holding back.

You go to undo the buttons of the flannel before he stops you.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he grunts out. His low tone and the dominance in his eyes make your stomach flip.

Fuck, how was he supposed to hold back when you looked at him like that? Wide eyes, lips parted. So submissive and all for him. He slowly crawled on top of you, keeping eye contact.

“You will keep my shirt on while I fuck you. You will not hold back any noises and you will do as I say. Understood?” he demands.

You nod.

“Use your words,” he snarls as he grips your jaw.

“Yes, Yunho,” you whimper.

“Good girl,” he drawls as he pats your face.

This new side of him made you incredibly wet. You had always enjoyed being told what to do in bed but Yunho was so effortlessly dominant that it took all your strength not to fall too hard into subspace. Another time. When you both talked about your limits more.

“Give me your wrists,” he holds out his hand as he waited for you to comply. You offer him your wrists and he pushed them above your head before you felt rope around them. He ties them quickly to his headboard and looks down at you, satisfied.

He leans in and kisses you again, rougher than before. His mouth moves to your ear where he whisperes “If you want me to stop, say goldfish.”

You hum in agreement and he begins licking and biting at your neck, determined to give you new marks. His hand grips your hair again and pulls your head back so abruptly that you cry out.

“Yes, let me hear you. Fuck, let the whole neighborhood hear how good I am making you feel, that you’re mine,” he chuckles in your ear.

He sits back on his heels and roughly grips your thighs before spreading them. The sight of your wet cunt elicits a growl from him. He couldn’t wait to fuck you again. He leans down to your cunt and licks a long stripe through your folds. The moan you let out nearly sends him over the edge. You throw your head back, tugging at the restraints.

“Look at me,” he barks at you.

You look down into his eyes. His expression is full of lust as he licks you again, not letting you look away. You try to close your legs around his head but his grip on your thighs is too strong.

You whine as he continues to lick at your pussy before he suddenly sucks on your clit. Your back flies off the bed as you let out a high pitched moan of his name. You can feel him grunt into your pussy, pleased by your reaction. Yunho grips your thighs tighter as he hikes them up further and pushes them towards your chest. The position leaves your cunt pressed up to his face as he continues to devour you. You can feel your climax approaching fast and hard but before you can reach it he pulls away.

“Noo, please,” you whine and feel tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as he steals your orgasm.

He chuckles darkly at your pathetic whines. He waits until you stop twitching before continuing his assault on your pussy. He licks between your folds with vigor and looks straight at you when his teeth close slightly around your clit. The tears you let out make his cock twitch. He had never seen a prettier sight. He runs his tongue over your clit but pulls away as he feels the telltale twitches of your approaching orgasm.

“Please, please let me cum,” you cry as he steals yet another orgasm from you.

“I decide when you cum. Now take what I give you,” he grins at you sadistically before attaching his mouth back to your cunt.

You can’t hold back the mewls and tears as Yunho robs you of yet another orgasm. By the fourth denied orgasm you’re a complete mess. Tears are streaming down your face, drool is dripping from the corner of your mouth and you’re pretty sure the sheets underneath you are soaked.

“Beg,” he commands.

“Please, Yunho. Please, I need to cum. I can’t take it anymore, please. Please, I need you. Please, please,” you beg him, words slurring together.

“Fuck, you’re so good for me. Don’t worry, I’ll let you cum,” he strokes your face and you could weep in relief, “but you’ll do it on my cock”.

Yunho moves back up your body, running his hand over your stomach and boobs, still hidden by his flannel and another surge of possessiveness flows through him. He shrugs off his shirt and boxers and you pull at your restraints, wanting to touch him.

He leans over you to get a condom from his nightstand and rolls it onto his length. He had to stretch you out last night to ensure you can take him but with four orgasms denied from you, you are more than ready to take him now.

He puts your legs over his shoulders as he lines himself up with your cunt. You whine as he rubs his tip over your clit and he chuckles, “What is it, princess?”.

“Please, Yunho. Fuck me,” you moan out.

“Whatever my girl wants, she gets,” he mutters before thrusting into you. He growls and grunts as he feels your tight cunt gripping him and before you can warn him you cum on his cock.

His mouth opens in awe and he watches you twitch around him.

“Shit, baby. One thrust and you cum already? Are you that desperate?” he coos at you in fake sympathy, knowing fully well how needy you were. He doesn’t give you time to come down from your high and immediately sets a rough pace. His hand goes to your throat, not squeezing just yet. His thrusts are deep and hard and you try hard not to scream. His hand on your throat makes everything feel more intense and you want him to choke you but can’t form any coherent sentence. You tighten your legs around his waist, already feeling another orgasm coming. The only word you can form is his name which only fuels his need to make you cum again.

“Give me another, pretty girl. I know you can cum again for me. You were so desperate to cum just now so fucking do it,” his low growls make it impossible not to comply and you hold on to the ropes tied around your wrists as you cum again.

“That’s it. Just like that. Fuck, you’re so good for me, my princess. All for me. Say it,” he squeezes your throat as he continues his hard and unforgiving pace.

“F-fuck, y-yours, Yunho. All y-yours,” you stutter out, not able to speak correctly with his hard strokes and his hand around your throat.

Your moans and tears nearly make him cum but he’s determined to make you cum one more time. He brings a hand to your cunt and begins rubbing your clit hard and fast. You squeal so loudly that he’s sure the neighbors can hear you but that only fuels his need to make you scream.

“Cum again. Cum for me, my pretty girl,” he bites out, holding back from cumming just yet.

His ministrations on your clit, his hard thrusts, his voice and the sight of him all sweaty above you lead to you cumming harder than you did before. You whimper out his name, not even able to scream anymore. As he feels you cum again, he quickly pulls out and pulls the condom off. He strokes himself and shoots onto your pussy and lower stomach, some of it getting onto his flannel. The sight of you in his flannel and now covered in his cum nearly make him hard again. He collapses on top of you, both of you breathing hard. Yunho nuzzles his nose into your neck, softly kissing you before reaching up and untying your wrists. He takes you into his arms and holds you close.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asks, softly rubbing your wrists. You nod, tired but happy. “You need to tell me if I was too rough with you,” he looks at your face, searching for any sign of subdrop. You smile at him and put your hand on his cheek.

“You were perfect, Yunho,” you reassure him. He relaxes and peppers kisses all over your face, making you giggle. He presses one last kiss to your nose before getting up and bringing a cloth so he can clean you up. You sigh softly as he wipes up both of your cum from between your legs.

“I did not know wearing your clothes would have this effect on you,” you say as you watch him dutifully clean you. He chuckles a bit as he finishes up and tosses the cloth to the side.

“What can I say, I’m crazy about you,” he says before he kisses you lovingly.

hope you like it, thoughts are always welcome

[envy-of-the-apple]

Moon Starves Sun (FULL VERSION)

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Part one: Sun Eats Moon

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

(Warnings: forced relationship, implied nsfw content, implied noncon/dubcon, dark content, implied baby trapping)

When Satoru's close like this, he can hear your heartbeat. 

It's been a while. Ten years. An entire decade. Everything about this is different, yet so familiar. He feels like he's finally reached the shores, feeling the warm sands underneath his feet. Like he's been given his favorite food after being starved for years. Everything melts. Everything except for you. 

He'd like to stay like this forever, listening to your rabbit heartbeat, feeling your soft skin, but for your sake, he pulls himself off you. Lying on a wooden desk probably isn't that comfortable. 

Your eyes are shut. Your breathing is shallow. You're so pretty like this under the moonlight. Your clothes are barely hanging onto your body. He can see every mark he's left on you. Part of him wants to make more, but he'll let you off the hook for now. He's nice like that. 

"Still with me?" 

Your eyes flutter open. You don't respond, but at least you're not crying anymore. He can work with that. 

"C'mon, pretty girl," he says, voice soft, "let's piece you back together." 

The belt left lines on your wrists. He'll kiss them better later. For now, Satoru collects your clothes and heels from the floor, placing them on the desk. He helps you reclasp your bra, runs his fingers on your arms when you finish buttoning your blouse. It's a quiet affair. Every so often, he'd catch your eyes. You don't let yourself linger for long. Satoru finds that a little cute. 

You say nothing when he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you out of his office. Maybe you're still dazed, still gathering yourself back up, because you don't struggle as much as he predicted. You try to leave his grip when the two of you reach the lobby. He's quick to stop you. 

"Where, do you think you're goin'?" He grips your wrist when you take a step away. 

You look at him, eyes shimmering like water. 

You swallow. "My apartment. I—I need to go back—" 

He clicks his tongue, bringing you back in. 

"We can get your stuff later." He tells you with a grin. "let's just go home, tonight. I'm exhausted." 

You open your mouth. Satoru waits. You say nothing, and he thinks you're starting to get it. 

The moon is a dusky red tonight. Satoru thinks it's an ugly color. 

☾

If Satoru could describe you in one word, it would be: predicatable. 

Normal, boring, a speck in the crowd—none of these are bad things. Just like how much of the universe is nothing, you're an empty void, too. Not everyone can be like him. From the minute he was born, Satoru was destined for greatness—a prodigy, heir to a millionaire conglomerate, the Sun itself. His life isn't written on his forehead for everyone to read. 

You are the exact opposite. Completely unassuming. He practically knows everything about you without even having to ask. 

Like how Satoru can instantly tell you've never been over to a boy's room before. 

You've probably never even been in a relationship before him, either. Even before he managed to corral you into his arms, you were always so annoying about the other things like school and friends. Though, you don't really have much of the latter anymore. His fault, Suguru never fails to remind him. 

He watches as your eyes linger over his shelf: the numerous trophies and awards. You're still standing meekly in the corner, still garbed in your school uniform, clutching your backpack. He has to roll his eyes at how obviously you're trying not to look at him. 

"What're you waitin' for?" He finally asks. You jump, eyes flitting over to find him before you find the floor. He resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

It's not like you two haven't done shit before. You sucked him off twice now, and he's finger fucked you against the bleachers. You should really stop being such a prude. 

"C'mere, pretty girl." 

You comply, dropping your bag, making your way to the bed. When you look at him from beneath your lashes, warily expectant, Satoru feels a thrill rushing through his body. 

He's always been impatient. It's in his nature to take. He nips at your mouth, eager to taste your soul from your soft lips. Soft. Everything about you is so soft—Malleable beneath his fingers. 

Satoru didn't explicitly say what his plan was, but you aren't stupid. He can tell you know what's about to happen when you stiffen in his hold, turn to stone within his grip. He would've allowed it if you hadn't gripped onto his shirt, pulling yourself away from his feasting. 

"Satoru?" You whisper, still leaning away. "The door...?" 

Annoyed, he glances over. His room is open. It shouldn't really matter. 

"It's fine." Satoru tells you. "No one's here." No one's ever here. 

You still look panicked, hands gripping his shirt. Satoru finds that adorably pathetic. How helpless you are. How that's all because of him.

He's sure to make a big show of it. Satoru gives a dramatic sigh, slumps his shoulders, but eventually pushes himself off the mattress to push at the door. He even clicks it shut. He's too nice, sometimes. 

"Happy?" You nod, you don't look very relaxed but your shoulders have dropped a bit. 

Satoru doesn't feel too guilty pushing you down, not when you're already in his bed. He isn't known for his patience. He tastes your skin, leaving marks when he can: teeth bites. He pushes you down down down down so he can sink his teeth into your flesh.

You're asleep and under the covers by the time he's done. The moon's out too. Satoru watches it, largely unimpressed. It's so tiny, a sliver of glowing white. 

And then you shift, turning ever so slightly, enough to catch his attention. He should probably kick you out and send you home. That's what he usually does. When he gets into bed with you, draping his arms around your limp body, he convinces himself it's because he's tired and waking you up would be too much of an effort. 

He lets himself enjoy your warmth; it's nothing like the cold glow of the moon. 

☾

Sometimes, even Gojo Satoru wonders if he's dreaming. 

Sometimes, life is too perfect for him to realize it is real. Everything falls perfectly in place, fitting together like those jigsaw puzzles his caretakers used to distract him with halfheartedly. 

You're in his kitchen, chopping vegetables. 

It had already been a few weeks, but he still wasn't used to this. You, being in his home, in his kitchen, in his bed. Satoru thinks he's masking it well, but his mind is still reeling, it's a difficult adjustment. 

Not a bad one. 

It's like he's been drowning for years and he can suddenly breathe when he sees your toothbrush next to his. It's like he's been stabbed and waking up to your sleeping face is the aloe. It's like he's been suffering through a blizzard, and you cooking in his kitchen, humming a song he doesn't know, is the warm sunny day. 

Things have changed since he brought you home. His home doesn't feel incomplete anymore. As though the apartment itself has agreed that this is where you belong. There are more clothes in his closet, more shoes by the door. The space is ever so slightly less empty and it fills him with tangible relief. He can cook a meal, but it's still nice coming home to something warm already made. 

It makes Satoru wonder what things could have been like, had it not been taken away from him. 

You flinch when he wraps his hands around your waist, nestling into the space in your shoulder. You hadn't heard him come in, apparently. Regardless, you don't linger, fingers hesitating before resuming your task. He finds this part of you adorable. Ignoring the thing that makes your heart race, as though he'll just fade away into the shadows. 

It's his ego that makes him slink into your warm skin, making sure you know he isn't going anywhere. 

"Smells good," he says. 

You nod, pushing away the bell peppers in favor of the onions. Unlike him, you acclimated extremely well. It'd taken nothing to lightly push you to add more and more stuff from your apartment to his. You quietly moved from one setting to another. He remembered this trait of yours from high school. Go with the flow. 

Though, perhaps, it was less out of genuine apathy. Satoru doesn't have to say what will happen to you if you refuse him. He doesn't have to throw lectures about his family and the influence he has on you. He likes that you aren't stupidly brave. He likes that you're meeker, quieter. You pick your battles. 

But he thinks he'd like to see you crack, just one more time. 

"Hey," he says, "let's go out for dinner tomorrow night. There's this restaurant just out of town that has great shrimp cutlet." 

He expects you to nod, like you always do whenever he decides to do something impulsive and meaningless. Instead, you bite your lip. 

"I can't." You mutter after a minute of silence. "I have work. Mr. Higuruma just closed a deal and—and I think I'll be coming home later and later this week." 

Home. It's enough to make his heart flutter. It's the first time you've called the apartment that. Your words almost make him forget about the second thing you said.

Higuruma. The lawyer guy with dead eyes. Satoru remembers him. He always looked at Satoru like he was a child, too stupid to do anything. He never liked how the guy looked at you. Besides, he was way too old for you, never mind that you were taken. You were always taken.

"Oh, right." Satoru gives an exaggerated sigh, fully leaning on you. "Work. What a shame." 

You nod, clearly thinking the conversation is done with. Satoru wasn't so charitable. 

"Y'know, you don't really have to work. Not anymore, pretty girl." His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly as he pulls you towards his chest. Your hands freeze. The knife glints in your fingers. 

"I make plenty of money. You should just stay home. That way, you don't have to work shitty hours." 

You stiffen underneath his fingertips. He's disappointed when your skin turns frigid. When he peeks over your shoulder, intent to look at your face, there's a nervous smile twitching on your lips. 

"I don't think that's a good idea..." you trail off hesitantly. 

"Hm?" He tilts his head with faux confusion. "Why not?" 

The knife moves up and down, as though you can't decide whether to place it back on the cutting board. Satoru realizes it's your way of fidgeting. 

"It...it would just be unprofessional to leave when everything is so hectic." You finally decide on. 

Satoru scoffs. "So? Who cares. I'm sure everything will work itself out. Just rely on me, pretty girl." 

You don't like the answer, but you don't make a comment on it. Satoru just watches you rotate the knife in your hands. He wonders if you want to use it on him. Slice at his neck, leave him out to bleed on the pretty tile floor. Cut straight through his heart, ending it quickly. 

Or would you like to carve out his eye and keep it as a souvenir? He thinks he'd happily let you. It sounds romantic.

You don't do anything. Instead, you pull back your shoulders as if you're physically ready for war. 

"'Toru," you say gently, softly, and it works in his eyes, "I...can't let you support me like this. It's not right. It's not like we're married or anything." You laugh, like it's a joke. Satoru doesn't cave. 

"I mean, not yet." Satoru rocks you back and forth in his hold. "But gimme' some time to shop for a ring, okay? It needs to be perfect for my perfect girl." 

You follow his movements. He can see your mouth twitch out of the corner of his eye. Your eyes get glassy. 

He knows he's terrible, but he really wants you to crack. 

"You're right, Satoru." You say, "I'll put in my two weeks tomorrow." He grins in delight. 

"That's a great idea, baby." Satoru kisses you on the cheek.

Right, you pick your battles. 

☾

Satoru tells you he loves you, and you're gone, not even three days later. 

He breaks and shatters into pieces he'll never be able to put back. Each day without you is torture. He feels like a corpse, just going through the motions. His clothes feel looser. His skin doesn't feel like his own anymore. Every time he looks in the mirror, he sees someone he barely even recognizes. 

It's like you left with his heart. 

No, you ran away with his soul. 

One day, you were Satoru's, safely tucked underneath his arm...the next, you just weren't. 

His parents don't acknowledge it beyond casual disgust. Every time Suguru talks to him, Satoru can barely comprehend it. Days pass by. Everything reminds him of you. His bed feels emptier; he hates it when he reaches out to the space you used to take up and finds it cold. Your locker remains untouched. Nothing is ever the same. 

Satoru tries looking for you, but you're untraceable. No social media, no friends left to tell where you went, not even your fucking parents know where you are. 

You left him. 

You left him to rot. 

Denial comes first. It can't be. You wouldn't. You wouldn't fucking dare. Anger seeps in the next. For weeks, Satoru can only imagine what he'll do when he finds you. He'll break your legs this time. He'll squeeze your neck so hard that your head pops. He'll kill you over and over again until your corpse is begging to be forgiven. And he won't ever stop, because you're Satoru's. 

That doesn't stay for long. He feels himself get weaker day by day. Food tastes like dirt on his tongue. Any of his earlier vices are gone. 

He misses you. 

Why wouldn't he? You were his everything. 

Like all things, it passes. You aren't there to fuel the flames, so the fire wanes in his chest. The ache in his heart gets smaller and smaller. Things keep him busy. College. Then, his new position in the office. 

Ten years pass. He’s forgotten what you look like. But he remembers parts. Every so often, he sees a flicker of you within someone else. Your eyes are on another woman’s face. Your lips on a girl's smile. It irritates him to no end. It’s even worse when he starts seeking them out, keeping those parts of them for just the night. 

Sometimes, if he closes his eyes, he can still hear your voice—what he thinks is your voice—soft, needy Toru Toru Toru. 

“Gojo, sir?” 

He blinks. Ijichi stands in front of him. Satoru looks down at the meticulously crafted pages. 

“Mr. Higuruma needed you to sign this,” Ijichi lifts a paper filled with bureaucratic bullshit he pays other people to understand.

Why did Suguru take off now? 

“Sure sure,” Satoru says, “I’ll get it done.” 

Ijichi shifts nervously. “Well, it’d be best to finish it right now, Sir. His paralegal is just about to leave the building.” 

Oh, right. The lawyer’s assistant. Gojo could never get a good look at that person, but the assistant resembled a shaking deer to him at most times. He’s not even sure if they’ve ever talked to each other, but he always found the other a bit odd. Big eyes. A shaky expression. 

It was a little annoying to look at. 

☾

Some executive was throwing an office gala, and since he is Gojo Satoru, he needed to come along. 

And since you are Satoru's, you're dragged along too. 

Honestly, the only upside to this is you and that new dress he bought you. A velvet turquoise dress that he can't take his eyes off of. The gold jewelry draped across your neck makes you even more delectable. But his favorite part of the outfit is the shimmering diamond ring. 

The ceremony hadn't been anything extravagant. He'd just booked out one of his favorite restaurants, ordering lobster and sweet wine. He remembered hearing his heartbeat when he bent down on one knee, opening the elegant ringbox, like an oyster revealing its pearl. Looking back, he didn't know why he was so nervous: it's not like you'd say no. 

"What do you think of it?" He asked when you were back in his bed, bare from everything except that glistening ring. 

"It's pretty." You spoke, perfectly nestled in his chest. 

He feels in his heart when he hugs you, a small kiss in your hair. You say something, but he can't hear it; he is too preoccupied with feeling you in his arms. It's still so new, even after all these weeks. It's the anxiety, knowing at any second you could leave and he'd be nothing. He won't allow that, he can't. 

"I thought about something else, y'know?" He speaks quietly in your hair. "Ropes, chains, maybe. I could keep you here, forever. But���but then I realized how sad you'd get. I couldn't go through with it." 

You give no reaction. When he tilts your chin up to get a better look at you, your eyes are glassy. 

"You get that, right?" 

You nod. He's really too nice, sometimes. 

He spends the entire evening with you, tucked away in a corner, away from prying eyes. Just because he has to be there doesn't mean he has to be sociable. Every time someone walks up to him and you, a drink in one hand, he resists the urge to bite their head off, feigning politeness. He complains about their lack of decorum to you multiple times throughout the night, his head resting on your shoulder. You pliantly sit there, listening and nodding. 

About ten minutes after the last board member left, someone else walks up. By then, Satoru's patience has mostly declined. He peers over with disdain before he can really process who he's seeing. 

"Suguru!" He waves over. 

You stiffen, and Satoru remembers you haven't seen him in ten years. 

Suguru walks over with an easy smile on his face. He's nicely tanned, and Satoru is reminded of the pictures he sent over of the Maldives. Maybe that's where the honeymoon should be. 

"Had fun slacking?" Satoru asks with a grin; Suguru shrugs. 

When his eyes meet yours, he feigns delighted surprise. Suguru speaks your name with practiced shock. It's imperfect, only Satoru can see the amusement dripping from his fangs. 

"Long time, no see!" Effortlessly, Suguru corrals you into a hug. You follow, giving into the cold touch of affection before pulling away back to him. 

"Hello, Geto." You say when you're rightfully by his side again. "It's nice to see you again." 

Suguru laughs, light and airy. "You as well!" He looks at your hands, tilts his head. "Oh? Congratulations, you two! When's the date?" 

"Eh, we'll figure that out later." Satoru gives a quick kiss on your cheek. "Everything happened so fast, y'know? Us reuniting and everything: It feels like fate." Suguru's eyes flash. "Let's not rush this. We'll take our time." 

Suguru nods along thoughtfully. He's looking right at you, and you stare right back. Not used to feeling left out, Satoru is quick to intervene. 

The conversation is light, two long-time friends reuniting after a long spell. You stay quiet like decor, settling into Satoru's side. Suguru doesn't acknowledge you after that. 

"We gotta' go. It's getting late." He eventually says, tugging you along. 

Suguru gives a pleasant smile. "Of course, of course. We should catch up sometime." He directs this at you. You give a strained smile before Satoru leads you off. 

"Suguru." The man turns. Satoru grins. 

"I loved my gift. Thanks, man." 

Suguru's smile is catlike. 

"You kids have fun." He calls out right when Satoru's dragging you away all over again. 

You're silent. Not in the way you usually are, pliant and cute. You're thinking. He gives you a nudge. 

"What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?" 

You shake your head. "Nothing." And then you say, "He's changed." 

From your view, Satoru supposed that's true, but really—

"Nah." Gojo shakes his head. "He's just dropped his act." 

Satoru's hand was wrapped around your waist when you two ran into him. You hadn't noticed him yet, eyes fixed on the floor. The lawyer hadn't changed since the last time Satoru saw him. That dead expression, those creepy eyes. Higuruma's eyes flit over your figure, before he finds Satoru's. 

He stares. Satoru stares right back. Something gives, and the lawyer calls out your name. 

"How are you?" His tone is cool, and this is another reason why Satoru can't stand him. The guy has no tells. He's just a talking robot. 

Unlike you, fidgeting by his side, practically vibrating with nerves. 

"I'm fine, sir." Your smile gets more painful to look at by the second. 

Your voice earns you a tired smile, a mild pinch of humor. Higuruma shakes his head, waving you off. 

"No need for formalities. We aren't at work." His smile drops just a bit, as he watches you for a bit more, eyes flickering to your hand. "I was...surprised when I saw the announcement. I didn't know you and Mr. Gojo were involved." 

Satoru grins, making himself known like a shark in the water. His grip on you tightens. 

"Oh, you didn't tell your boss 'bout us, baby?" He looks down at you with cruel mirth, pinching your cheek. You wilt. "We go way back—highschool sweethearts. Lost contact for a couple years. It's actually thanks to you we were able to find each other again. We'll send you the invites." He presses a kiss to your hairline. 

Higuruma hums at that. Satoru expected jealousy in his eyes; he's even more upset when he finds none. 

"I'll be sure to save the date." 

Then he shuts Satoru down completely. 

"I heard about your resignation. It's sad to see you go," Higuruma says. 

You nod, but you don't look at him. "Satoru and I talked about it, and we decided it's best if I focused on other things." 

"Very, very busy, this one nowadays." Satoru interrupts. "Between wedding plannin' and all that."

"Is that so?" Higuruma says dismissively, "in any case, you already knew this, but I've begun preparations to start a new firm." He reaches into his wallet, pulling out a card. "I always thought you were good at what you do. If you ever want to get back into the industry, call me." 

You take the laminate slip with a quiet thank you. Satoru feels blue turn into red. 

When Higuruma slips into the party, Satoru tightens his grip on you a little harsher than necessary. He's dragging you through the halls. Behind him, he can hear you stumbling over your heels, begging him to slow down. He knows he should care, but he doesn't. That damn lawyer. Those dead eyes. Mocking him. 

"Did you fuck him?" He asks when his anger has reached a high enough peak that he presses you against the wall. 

Your eyes are wild, flitting back and forth. He'd your expression a little cute if he wasn't feeling like a furnace, at the moment. 

"No. I—we never." You say. "Mr. Higuruma was my boss. And—and he's married—" 

"Really? 'cause you're precious 'Mr. Higuruma' was eyeing you up and down like he's already seen what's underneath." 

"'Toru." You plead. "Let's—let's just talk about this at home. Please? Let's just go home." Home. You said that word again. If he were a better man, he'd melt, but he's not. 

"Shut up." He spits out. "Hike up your dress." 

You stare at him. Then, you try to smile, like he's making a shitty joke. It wavers on your lips. 

"It's...we're still in public." You whisper and it's so cute you think he'd actually care about that. "We—we can't...we shouldn't—" 

"Baby." His voice drops, as he licks at your neck. "Pull up your dress, get rid of those panties. Otherwise, I'm just gonna take it off myself." 

He doesn't need to explain anything further. You already get what he's saying. Right now, Satoru doesn't care if you leave this building with your clothes intact. 

He thinks the worst part is that he knows he's being unreasonable. He's backing you into a corner where you'll have no choice but to surrender, and he knows that, but he keeps thinking about those man's eyes and how he looked at you and it was just all so much. 

He'll apologize to you later, with flowers and shiny gold earrings. He'd give you the world; just be good for him now. 

He just needs his fix. So just be good for him now.

☾

When Satoru discovers it's been you all along, he feels like an idiot. 

In a pathetic way of defending himself, he convinces himself there's no way he could have recognized you. You're so different compared to your high-school self. 18-years old, fresh-eyed, naive. The you now is all grown up: a mature voice, a new hairstyle, clothes he'd never even think you'd wear. 

It also didn't help that he couldn't even see your face since you turned away every time he looked at you. 

Embarrassing. He's just glad Suguru wasn't here to call his blunder. 

He thought about it a lot. He spent an hour in his office, pacing around, doing nothing but thinking and thinking and thinking. Part of him wants to corner you already. He can already feel your rabbit heartbeat on his fingertips, the look you always had in your eyes when he was right in front of you. Part of him wants to ruin your life the same way you ruined his. He wants to tear you apart, piece by piece. Leave you in tattered pieces. 

But he can't do that. Satoru still loves you. 

You left him a hollow shell. Broken. Tainted. There are pieces of him he still can't find. He should hurt you. He's hurt other people for doing less. But they weren't you. Even after all those years, he's never quite stopped loving you. 

But he wants to sate his bloodlust, just a tiny bit. 

His perfect opportunity comes where he, the lawyer, and you are all sitting in one of the waiting rooms. The lawyers explaining something, possibly about the ongoing case. Satoru doesn't really care. Besides, this is what Ijichi's here for. 

He waits until everyone is quiet. You're unassuming. By then, your shoulders have lowered, like you think you've gotten away with it 

"Hey," he says, "do we know each other?" 

The other two don't bother, but you stop completely. The pen in your grip shakes. Satoru resists the urge to laugh. 

You timidly glance up like you're still delusional enough to think there's a fifth person he's talking to. Satoru has always been told his eyes are like two suns: bright and intense. He lowers his glasses. You wilt under the solar flares. 

"Hm?" He prods, enjoying the way you shrivel. "Have we?" 

You swallow, glassy eyes flicking from side to side. Finally, you clear your throat. 

"No." You mutter, voice barely a whisper. "I don't think we have." 

"Are you sure?" To intensify the magnifying glass, he leans closer, like he's examining you. "'cause you look really familiar." 

To his delight, you chew on your bottom lip. He can imagine biting it until it's bloody and raw. He stops just when you're about to shatter completely. Breaking you too soon would take the fun out of it. 

"Oh, wait. I don't think that was you." He relents, pulling back and he can see the relief ooze over your face. "I think I got you mixed up with someone who interviewed here a couple months ago. My bad. Maybe you have one of those faces." 

You nod, eager to take the out. 

"Yes," you quickly say, "one of those faces." 

How adorable. You haven't changed since high school. 

He's usually not this obvious, but Suguru isn't here to berate him about it and it's not like anyone else will get on his ass. The women he brings in are his usuals: tall models with full lips and perfect bodies. Satoru parades them around like expensive jewelry. He wants to see you seethe in envy, stew in it. He wants you to see what you abandoned. 

But you don't do any of that. You just sit there, like the dutiful little workbee you are, right by your boss's side.

And then, you give one of them your jacket. Satoru can't stand it wrapped around her waist like she fucking owns it—own you. She wears it so flagrantly, like any token from you shouldn't be worshipped and coveted. He hates it. He hates it. 

"I've never done this in an office before." She squeals when she shuts the door behind her. "So, how do you—" 

"Get out." 

The girl pauses. What was her name again? Satou was too pissed to give a single shit. 

"Um, what?" 

"What, you deaf or something?" He waves her off as if he weren't seething. "Get out." 

"Oh," she says, blinks, and then she takes a step back. 

"Wait." Satoru stops her. 

"Take that off." He points to your jacket. She does it with zero complaints. When he tells her to drop it on the chair, she follows that too. Reluctant expectation. Kind of like you. Maybe that's why he was initially invested in her. 

He only takes the fabric after she's gone. It's soft underneath his fingertips. Nothing designer, but good quality. When you're finally underneath him again, he'll buy you better clothes, all the jackets you want. 

He needs you. He can't wait anymore. 

He needs you, whether you want him or not. 

☾

Satoru wakes up to something crashing. 

It's faint, obviously coming from the bathroom. Not the best way to be woken up. He remembers the first few nights he brought you home. He'd hear you crying in your sleep, choking on tiny sobs. It was the sweetest little thing, like a whimpering puppy. 

These noises are a little more concerning. 

He yawns, sliding out of bed. You didn't bother locking the door. You didn't even close it all the way, either. A sliver of light comes from the crack before he pushes it open. 

"Baby?" He calls. You don't answer. 

You had knocked over a caddy. Toothbrushes, hairclips, soap dispensers, perfume bottles were scattered all over the floor. You're curled up in the corner of the bathroom, huddled right next to the tub. You seem physically okay, no blood, no bruising, but he can't see your face. And you're shivering. 

Satoru's about to call out to you, when he steps on something. He looks down at the tiles. 

A positive pregnancy test. 

"I'm not keeping it." Your voice is hoarse, like you've been crying for hours. "I'm��not keeping it." 

"Pretty girl." He coos, trying his best to keep the glee out of his voice and failing. "Let's not worry 'bout that, right now. C'mon, let's get you off the floor." He reaches for your hand. You smack it away. It stung. 

When you look at him, eyes bloodshot and brimming with angry tears, Satoru's heart skips a beat. He feels like he just trapped a wild animal, making it pace in a corner. Any wrong move could result in his hand getting bit off. It's scary. 

He's finally cracked you. 

"Fuck you." Your voice shakes and wobbles, but it's loud and you're clear. "Fuck you. You're a sick, twisted man-child. You ruined everything. You ruined my entire life and—and now you—" 

You're cut off by his giggling. It sounds psychotic even to his ears. He's beyond caring. You flinch when lifts your face up, forcing you to look into his eyes. He's smiling so hard it hurts. 

"Yeah, I did that. I ruined you. I ruined your entire fucking life. For me." He stresses, squeezing your face so hard you try to pull away. "But I had to. You—you wouldn't be here if I didn't." He sighs, pressing your body to his. "I need you."

You're both huddled on the bathroom floor, captive and lover. He's clutching you to his chest, smiling, nestling his face in your hair. You don't say anything for a while. 

"I'm not keeping it." You whisper. "I'm not. I wouldn't stand it if it ended up like you." 

It's spiteful. You're still in that phase where you think your venom can hurt him, as though he'd see your blows as anything but blessings. Satoru thinks to his own childhood. Where he was given everything, lathered in gold and silver. Yet, the house was always cold. But you were always so warm. 

"That won't happen." He tells you. "'cause you're here." 

Your anger has dwindled to smoke. Maybe you've finally realized how crazy he was for you. 

"Please let me go." It's not a beg. It's not even a request. 

"I can't," he honestly says. 

"You won't." You correct him. 

He smiles in your hair. 

"No baby," he says, "I can't." 

If you ran away again, if you escaped his claws, he'd probably die. Drop dead, rot on the floor. He needs you. Even more than he needs food, water, and oxygen. You won't understand that. You've never been in love before. 

You don't fight him. If anything, you sink into his hold. He's there to catch you, heart soaring. You lean into his chest 

"I hate you." You whisper. His heart beats a little faster. It's probably the first time you've ever been so honest with him. 

God, he loves you. 

"I hope our baby has your eyes," he says. 

"I hope our baby looks exactly like you." 

You say nothing, but when he leans down to kiss you, you finally kiss back. You're cracked, and your essence is ready to be molded in his image, just like he's always wanted you to be. 

If Satoru is the Sun, then you must certainly be his universe, the plane in which he rests, because there would be no existence for him if not for you. 

[katsukistofu]

it took me by soap-rise

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ k. bakugo x fem reader. 4k words — fluff. cursing. slightly suggestive. ⭑ of course your public nuisance no. 1 has to hog your favorite shower stall the day you forget your body wash in it.

Katsuki was honestly starting to suspect he wasn’t your type. 

Which one, was something he’d never even bother to consider. He’s ripped up more confession letters than he can count after three years. Graduation was just around the corner and he still hates social media, but even he knows how popular he is on it because of his classmates whining about it all the damn time. He knows he’s well-liked, and it’s not just his ego talking.

Genuinely it's a thought that would never occur to him, if only Eyebags wasn’t lounging around you all the time, casting annoyingly cocky glances at him as he taps your shoulder and leans in to whisper whatever the fuck it is in your ear whenever he passes by the two of you.

Not that he cared. 

Two, when Dunce Face dared you to say who you thought was the most attractive guy during a game of truth or dare in the common room last year, while he pretended to be disinterested when he very much in fact was not, you had offhandedly answered with that half-n’-half bastard’s name, who could not be more polar opposite to him.

Again, he really couldn’t give less of a fuck. 

Not like he’s been thinking about it since then. Totally. Not.

Katsuki also hasn’t been thinking about how it should be him whispering in your ear instead of that purple haired extra, the endless list of things he could say to make you squirm and blush in your seat. 

Of course, that doesn’t happen because you’re too busy arguing with him, like usual, about the new group project Aizawa just assigned. Something about reconnecting with their roots before graduating. With you two as partners, much to the amusement of your classmates.

“We should work on the script first!” You insist while he leans back in his chair, observing you get more and more worked up.

It should be irritating as hell, your hand gestures, your matter of fact tone, but what’s really bothering him is that it’s not. He’s not sure when that started happening.

“It’s better to prepare the interview questions we’re going to ask our parents when we visit each other's homes.”

He snorts. “What are we, some ditzy news report crew? We’re not gonna waste time doing that, we should just visit your place first, then mine and get it over with.”

You spin away from him before he can open his mouth again, and raise your hand. 

Aizawa slowly turns to you with a sigh, already knowing what you’re about to ask.

“No.”

“But Mr. Aizawa!” 

Eyebags casts an amused glance in both of your directions, and Katsuki scoffs. 

No way in hell was he letting you switch and downgrade to an extra like him. 

“What, you’re chickening out?”

You ignore him. “Can I please switch partners?”

“No,” Aizawa deadpans.

“But—“

“No. One more word from either of you and you’re getting zeroes.”

The both of your mouths snap shut, and you glare at each other.

“When you’re a pro, you don’t always get to choose who you team up with.” 

Aizawa rubs his temples. 

“And you’re supposed to be my top ranking students. You’re not first years anymore, so act like it.”

You hang your head. Like a scolded puppy, Katsuki notes. 

“Yes Mr. Aizawa.”

From the corner of his eye, you flip him off under your desk and his lips can’t help but twitch. Does he really still piss you off that much after all this time? 

Without hesitation, Katsuki flips you off back.

‘Fucking teacher’s pet.’ He mouths with a smirk.

‘Asshole.’ You mouth back.

Aizawa sighs again, throwing a pointed look at Sero and Denki who are struggling, and failing, to hold back their giggles behind you. 

This was going to be a long week.

It’s the day after the group project was assigned, and you’re still reeling from the fact that out of everybody you had to get paired up with, of course it had to be your crush. 

Hey Siri, does it make you a masochist if for the past three years you've been in love with a guy that’s laser-focused on his personal development and has zero interest in dating anyone other than his career, ever? 

Are you a masochist if you kind of find that kind of hot?

Just when you were starting to make a pros and cons list with Mina the night before to try and ick yourself out, too. But even that was getting increasingly hard to do.

His growth was undeniable, and you curse at him for being almost as mature as he was attractive now.  

Well, towards everybody except you. 

Three steps away from the door to your room, you freeze in place as your brain stops your usual ramblings of the blond boy to register two alarming facts.

One, the bottle of body wash you usually use was not in your hand like you thought it was.

Two, it was in fact, still in the shower stall you left it in.

Pink house slippers slap against the floor’s carpeting as you race back to the showers with a death-like grip on your towel.

You’re slightly out of breath as you clutch the doorway of the showers, and just as quickly as you enter you find yourself exiting lightning fast at double the speed, nearly launching yourself against the wall of the hall outside. 

With your heart racing uncontrollably, tips of too familiar blond hair disappear into the stall you were in moments ago.

Too familiar, for your liking. 

But that strong jawline you caught a glimpse of was unmistakable.

Your irritating classmate slash crush you were trying to get rid of was taking up your shower stall.

Okay technically it wasn’t yours but it was the one you used everyday, each morning and night. You’d claimed it when you first stepped foot in it at the beginning of your first year. 

So basically, it was yours. 

And you definitely don’t remember that bastard ever using it until today.

A screech jolts you from your thoughts. He must have turned the water on, which you can hear, but strangely there was no steam wafting out at all. 

The realization creeps up on you like the sound of running water that trickles down and echoes throughout the room.

Hold on.

What was this idiot doing taking a cold shower at four in the morning?

The all too familiar soothing scent of cherry blossom fills the chilly air, and your eyebrows furrow even more in confusion. 

And was that your fucking body wash he’s using?

You take a deep breath. Okay, calm down. He’s bigger than you, probably stronger too, that stupid gym freak, not to mention taller than you. 

But your fingers were still itching to whip out your quirk and shoot a moonbeam at his crotch.

Because why the fuck was he using your L’Occitane Cherry Blossom Bath and Shower Gel?

Trying to sneak a glance to confirm your suspicions, the obvious shadow of Bakugo is visible through the glass, and you duck back into the hallway. 

Oh my god, it is him. 

Taking a cold shower in the morning like a crazy person. Although you hate to admit it, that would explain his perfect skin. Everyday you wake up and see his flawless face, you go to bed praying that he gets a blemish.

The shower turns off, and you let out the breath you were holding. Confrontation wasn’t your strong suit, but when it came to your possessions, you weren’t about to be a doormat. 

You cross your fingers and pray that he’s wearing clothes.

“Bakugo! Come out here, we need to talk.”

He snorts, already recognizing the chiding voice about to round the corner, and turns. “Picking a fight with me outside of class? Thought you had more self-respect than tha–”

Bakugo is then sharply cut off.

By you hurling into his very naked, very bare chest.

He forces his eyes to not linger on the dip of your collarbone, and as he looks down on you he sees you struggling to do the same in his direction.

You accidentally make contact with his eyes.

The rare, amused look on his face sends something strange and hot down your spine, and you force yourself to turn away so sharply you think you dislocated your neck.

Bakugo smirks. “Wasn’t nearly this focused when we were working on our project.” 

An embarrassing noise escapes from your mouth, and his lips curve ever so slightly on his handsome face at the sound. 

He’s never seen you this flustered before.

It’s kind of cute, he admits this time.

Despite your clearly humiliated state, you point an impressively steady finger at the object in his hands. 

“That’s um, that’s mine.” You awkwardly clutch your towel tighter, suddenly feeling very naked in his presence. Seriously, why didn’t you put a shirt on before coming back?

His eyebrow raises and he lifts the bottle slightly. “This?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh,” he says disbelievingly. “Don’t see your name on it.”

You sigh in exasperation, did he always have to be so uncooperative with you? “It’s mine, okay? Just give it back.”

Bakugo's eyes narrow as he studies you. Like you’re a puzzle piece he’s trying to make sense of.

And as much as you hate to admit it, the focused look on his face was annoyingly attractive. 

“That’s funny.” 

You open your mouth, your patience is on the last straw and you’re about to yell back ‘what is?’ and snatch the bottle out of his hands when he smirks, holding it high out of your reach above his head with his bicep, still gleaming with water from his shower. 

“Because this is mine.”

You blink at the water falls from his raised arm onto your nose, not registering what you’re hearing. Looking away from the pink translucent bottle above your head, your eyes meet his again.

“What?”

“You heard me the first time.”

You can’t help but stare at him incredulously.

“I don’t think I did.” Confusion could not be clearer than glass in your voice. 

“You—You use L’Occitane?”

He averts his eyes from the droplet that falls from your still wet hair and rolls down what skin you have exposed, disappearing into your thankfully tightly wrapped towel.

“Dude. You are so not cherry blossom bath and shower gel material.”

He snorts. “Fuck is that supposed to mean.”

“I don’t know! I thought you’d use like, Dove MenCare or five in one.”

“Five in one? Are you stupid?”

“Apparently! But—Oh my god can you stop flexing your biceps for one fucking second.” You groan. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”

“Why were you looking?” 

“I can’t help it! They’re distracting me and—“ You clap your hands over your mouth, glancing at his slightly amused expression with horrified eyes.

“Distracting you?” His voice is low, and you curse at the way your stomach flip-flops. 

“Um.” Fuck. Where did that even come from? “I meant, uh.”

“Trying to take it back now?” He smirks. “Coward.”

“I am not a coward!” You glare at him. “And I’m not feeding into your ego.”

“You just admitted you were staring at my biceps and thinking about what body wash I would use.”

Okay, so you’re just digging yourself a deeper grave. Your cheeks are warmer than the shower you took earlier, and you can’t even deny it.

“Creep.”

You huff. “Okay fine, I’m a creep. Just give me my body wash back.”

“Told you,” he starts walking away, towel still wrapped around his waist. You pointedly look away towards the wall. “It’s mine, dipshit.”

“Wha–” You whip your head around just as he disappears behind the corner, too tired and irritated to even chase after him, and with a sigh you walk into the shower room, heading for the stall you used earlier. 

Your eyes widen as you stare at it in embarrassment. 

There your bottle of cherry blossom body wash sits, untouched in the shower caddy. 

As you head back to your dorm room, the body wash safely clutched in your hand, you wonder.

Was it too late to call in sick for today?

Aizawa did not in fact let you call in sick, and you're painfully reminded of everything that happened in the morning as you complain to Hitoshi about it. Your best friend snickers as students file into the cafeteria behind his seat.  

“You’re so stupid.”

You take the opportunity to shove a sweet roll into his open mouth. “Shut up! I’m going to pretend like it never happened.”

Hitoshi snorts, taking the bread out of his mouth. “Good luck with that. But hey,” He leans in with a mischievous grin, and you glare daggers at him. “Isn’t this the most progress you’ve made since you started liking him since, what, first year entrance exams?”

Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

He takes his sweet time eating the roll in his hand instead of elaborating, like the petty asshole he's always been. Your fingers tap impatiently on the table of the cafeteria as you wait while he chews.

After what seems like an eternity, Hitoshi finally swallows. 

“I mean, you’ve never really made a move on him this whole time. Kind of just been a spectator, like a creep.”

Warmth rushes up your neck as you’re reminded of what Bakugo called you yesterday. Creep.

“I can’t help it! The only time we ever speak is during class projects, and even then we’re always arguing. I just don’t know what to say to him.”

“I know.” Hitoshi raises an eyebrow. “Woop woop. 3A’s own live little romcom.”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“Okay, but after I finish this soup.” He blows on his steaming spoon, and pauses as a thought occurs to him. 

”If he didn’t like it though, he would’ve told you by now.” 

You can’t help but perk up at that. “You really think so?”

“Yeah.” He spoons the soup into his mouth. “Oh. This is good, why didn’t you get any when we were in line?”

“...The red color reminded me of his eyes too much.”

Hitoshi sighs. 

“For your birthday, I’m going to admit you to a mental hospital.”

“It’s not that bad!” You insist and he snorts derisively. 

The both of you know you’re lying.

The ride to Katsuki’s house after class is awkwardly silent.

Your folks conveniently went out of town to visit some relatives you’ve never even heard of yesterday, so the both of you were left with no choice but to interview his parents only.

The train is almost full, and every seat in the car is taken except one.

“I’m standing.” 

Katsuki grabs onto the handle above his head, a silent signal for you to take the only seat left and watches with barely concealed amusement in his eyes as you hurry to sit in front of him without a word other than a small ‘thanks.’ So skittish today.

He’s not sure if he likes it though. You being quiet around him. 

You’ve said less than two sentences to him since this morning, and he almost misses your snappy quips.

Almost.

He hides a sly grin. It’s all his fault you’re acting like this, and he's going to enjoy it while it lasts.

You’re putting your earbuds on, and just before you put the left one in, he snatches it out of your hands and puts it in his ear.

Your eyes widen cutely, too stunned to speak.

"Just don't play anything shitty." He turns his attention back to his phone, ignoring all the smoochy faces the group chat's sent him about you as he sends his mom a quick text to tell her you two are on the way.

With a shy nod, which he can't help but note is so unlike you, you scroll down on your own phone and click on a playlist.

Katsuki's eyes widen in surprise not even five seconds in.

The instrumentals, those vocals. He knows this song.

He loves this song.

"You listen to Pierce the Veil?"

You blink up at him. "Yeah. I do."

He can't help it. The edge of his lips twitch as he recalls what you said to him yesterday, and he mimics your exact tone.

"Dude. You are so not post-hardcore alt rock material."

The expression on your face is priceless.

Katsuki never uses his damn phone camera but he almost wants to snap a picture right there and then.

Except of course, you do the unexpected.

You giggle at him.

He can't help but feel a little proud. Take that, stupid fucking Eyebags.

"I guess you're right," you laugh behind your hand. "Jirou recommended me some songs last year and I've been a fan ever since."

"Then what's your favorite lyric by them?"

"Oh my god." The grin on your lips spreads a warm, sweet feeling across his chest, like strawberry jam on hot toast. "You're one of those people that see someone wearing a band shirt and go 'Oh you like them? Name five of their songs.'"

He scoffs. "I do not."

"You totally do."

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "You trying to distract me from the fact you're a fake fan?"

You fake a little gasp. "Me? Never." There's a thoughtful hum that comes from your lips, and he observes you as you take a moment to think.

"My favorite lyric has to be 'been counting the stars and scars, how I’m becoming a work of art.'"

The Divine Zero. Fuck, he loved that song too.

"Huh. Guess you know your shit."

You huff proudly, so similar to a dog happily wagging its tail that he resists the urge to pat your head. "Of course! What's your favorite lyric?"

He smirks, staring directly into your eyes.

"I’m gonna tear out the thread one by one from your skin till your bones feel embarrassed by all the attention."

Your lips fall into a flustered 'o' shape and you turn away when he finishes, nodding. "That's, uh, that's a good one too."

He bites back a laugh as you hurriedly switch playlists, and a familiar R&B tune starts singing in his ear instead.

Mitsuki’s face greets the two of you as she opens the door.

“Katsuki! You're here early—oh!"

She spots you. 

“You’re one of those cute maid girls from last year’s cultural festival!" 

Your cheeks flush as you remember. That stupid day when Denki’s suggestion finally won the class vote. She was visiting for Bakugo’s role as an oni in the haunted house, and happened to stop by the maid cafe in the class where you and the rest of the girls were working. “Yes ma’am.”

“I didn’t know you were Katsuki’s girlfriend.”

“What?” Your mouth drops. “Oh, I’m not—“

“You brat! You never told me you were going out with a sweet, pretty girl like this.” Mitsuki scolds in her son’s direction. Your cheeks grow warm as your curious eyes can’t resist trailing over to see his reaction.

"She's not my girlfriend, Ma."

Oh my god, was he blushing?

Mitsuki sighs in disappointment. His crimson eyes meet your widened ones for a split second, then he's brushing past the both of you and heading inside the house.

His mother smiles at you apologetically. "Sorry about him, his puberty came late."

You can't help but snort. "It's okay Mrs. Bakugo, I'm used to it."

"I heard that!" A yell comes from down the stairs.

Mitsuki and you share a mischievous glance, and she ushers you inside. You take off your shoes and look around.

So this is where Bakugo grew up.

There's the smell of green tea in the air, and was that a vanilla candle burning somewhere? Framed photos of Bakugo with his parents are on the wall as you walk into the living room, and you can't help but coo at the one where his chubby baby cheeks are smeared in frosting while he blows out a candle shaped like the number three.

The interview flies by in a breeze. You do most of the asking.

Okay, you’re the one asking all of the interview questions. A warm mug of steaming green tea is placed next to you on the coffee table from your cross-legged position on a cushion.

Bakugo sits next to you, unnervingly silent ever since his mom's outburst from before, as he types up his mother’s and occasionally his father’s responses on his laptop.

It’s funny, the way you think he doesn’t notice your shivers.

"Ma." He glances up from the keyboard. "Do you need to turn the AC up so damn high all the time?"

Mitsuki rolls her eyes, taking a sip of her tea. "It's warm in here!"

He sighs, eyes flicking over to you, and starts getting up from his spot on the floor.

You stare at the hand he holds out to you. And with great interest, so do Masaru and Mitsuki, who mutters something to him that you better be her daughter-in-law within the next three years.

"Come on," Bakugo says gruffly, tugging you to stand.

You stumble a bit as you walk through the hallway with him and up the first few stairs. "Where are we going...?"

"My room. To get you a fucking jacket."

“No, I don’t need it—!” You're cut off with a sneeze.

He groans, and shrugs off the black fleece-lined one he's wearing and bringing you into him by tightly wrapping it around your shoulders.

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?” He grumbles. He's so close you can see how unfairly long his lashes are, and you're not sure if it's the sheer nervous adrenaline from him being so near or the scowl in his voice but you giggle, feeling bold.

“It’s sexy to see you prove me wrong.”

His eyes widen, and he quickly recovers.

“You’re so fucking weird.” There’s an unmistakable fondness you catch in his voice as he says that, and you shiver this time for a different reason. 

"Your jacket's too big on me." You flop your newly acquired sweater paws in his face.

“Shut up.” Bakugo snorts as he zips it up for you in one smooth motion. “Fucking baby.” 

“You're the baby!" You retort. "I saw your pictures on the wall."

There's a groan from him. "No you didn’t.”

"What, they're cute! I'm gonna send one to the class group chat."

Bakugo shoots a glare at you, and you teasingly wiggle your phone screen in his face. "Don't you dare."

"Hmm, okay I won't. Only if you do something for me first."

He smirks. "Fine, what do you want?" Bakugo leans closer to you, and your cheeks burn hot. "A kiss?"

You were not expecting that.

The way your eyes linger hopefully on his mouth looks like he's right. "Um."

"Um?" He huffs a laugh with his face hovering in front of yours. Bakugo's hot breath teases your lips, and you can't think.

Fuck it, you don't even care if he's just joking anymore. If this is your only chance, you're going to take it.

"Yes."

Bakugo cocks his head to the side, irritating to the very end even when you're on the brink of giving in. "Yes what?"

Your eyes squeeze shut as you blurt out, and you can almost hear Hitoshi cheering in the distance.

"YesIwantyoutokissme!"

"Fucking finally." Your eyes flutter open at his murmur, what did he mean by that? But you don't get to spend another second thinking about it because suddenly his soft lips are on yours and your heart skips a beat as you realize Bakugo is kissing you.

It's feels almost scarily natural to lean into his touch, like a gravitational pull getting stronger and stronger the longer you're near him, and you wonder why you didn't sooner. You numbly acknowledge the growing sweatiness of your palms as your nose bumps against his gently.

His comforting hands cup the back of your head, tangling his calloused fingers in your hair as he guides your mouth against his. A delicious little sound escapes from you the moment you break away from him and it only makes him want to close the gap between you again with more hunger, and he nips at your bottom lip like a starved man.

"Knew you always liked me, by the way." Bakugo gives you a wolfish grin, as the both of you pull back for air, leaving a trail of saliva still connected to your lips in your wake. He slyly glances at your dazed self sideways, flashing you a rare sight of his canines.

"Was just waiting for you to stop being such a damn pussy about it."

[starkwlkr]

day in the life of a monaco mama | baby leclerc

inspired by the day in the life of a nyc mom tiktoks :) ruby and théo are aged up a bit here.

Y/n had the bright idea of posting more content to her tiktok account. She had a couple of videos, but that was pretty much it. She would get many comments telling her to post more so she thought of an idea. She had seen those day in my life videos everywhere so she filmed one with Ruby and Mathéo.

“Hi everyone, welcome to a day in my life in Monaco!” The video starts off with Y/n making herself some coffee for her and Charles then cuts to her waking the kids up so they can get ready. Today, Charles is leaving for the Dutch Grand Prix so I got his coffee ready while he helped the kids get ready for the day.”

Y/n filmed Charles giving the kids several kisses and hugs then gave her a kiss and hug before Joris arrived and together they were on their way to the plane. “We try to take the kids to a couple of races, but they recently said they prefer to stay home, hang out with their friends or stay with their grandmère, which doesn’t upset Charles at all.” The voiceover said.

“So after we get ready and eat some breakfast, the kids and I go for a walk to the gardens then we come back to their grandmère’s house and we hang out for a bit.” Y/n filmed the kids waving hello to a couple of people on their walk. Then the video showed Pascale greeting the kids and hugging Y/n.

“When it was time to leave, Mathéo wanted to stay because his grandmère was going to visit some family and he wanted to tag along so him and Pascale left and it turned into a mommy daughter day.” Y/n showed several clips of Ruby running around them posing for the camera.

Then the video cuts to them walking around Monaco. “We stopped for lunch at Ruby’s favorite place called Bella Vita and it’s close to a little playground so if you’re ever in Monaco and with your kids, i would recommend coming here. Ruby loves it.” Y/n filmed Ruby eating a piece of of pizza. The little girl saw the camera then smiled and put up a thumbs up.

“After lunch, we walked around, then Ruby wanted to go to see her papa’s car that’s with the rest of Prince Albert’s collection. Whenever we have time, she always requests to go see it.”

They walked to the museum that held Prince Albert’s collection. Y/n filmed the cars. At one point the video showed Y/n posing in front of Charles’ Ferrari car that won in Spa and Monza. The clip was courtesy of Ruby since she wanted to film her maman at least once.

The video then cut to a couple looking at Charles’ Ferrari that were standing next to Ruby, who was taking a picture with her camera that Charles bought her. The man noticed Ruby and wondered if she knew the history of the car.

“That car won—”

“Monza and Spa. I know, that’s my papa’s car.” She replied to her walked back to her maman.

The woman tried to hold in her laugh, but she couldn’t. The couple watch Ruby wave goodbye to them as her and Y/n walked away to their next destination.

“On our way to the oceanographic museum, we ran into some Ferrari fans that wanted to give Ruby and i some friendship bracelets and coincidentally, Ruby had some on her as well so we traded. Thanks for the bracelets, Amanda and Jade!” The clip showed two girls trading bracelets with Ruby.

“Ruby is going through her ocean phase at the moment. She loves telling Charles and i facts about the ocean at all times and I mean at all times. This girl will sit you down and tell you facts as if her life depended on it.” Y/n filmed Ruby admiring the pretty fish then pointing to her favorite one.

Then the video cut to Ruby trying to pronounce anemone because she was trying to tell her mom a fact about the clown fish. “The anemoney . . anu. . anomoon. . .” She stumbled over her words.

“Anemone.” Y/n clarified, but Ruby still messed up. “That’s okay, you’ll pronounce it right next time.”

“I hope so. I don’t want the clown fish to feel sad because I can’t say it right.” Ruby said sadly.

The video then shows Ruby talking with kids her own age. She, of course, made new friends and even invited them to sleepover at her house. Y/n and the other moms laughed, but did promise a sleepover some other time.

“Finally, we went back home to Pascale’s and had dinner where the kids FaceTimes Charles. Our days aren’t always like this, but I always want to fill our days with something to do.”

The TikTok ended up gaining millions of views, likes, shares and comments. Most of them coming from F1 fans, but she didn’t mind.

COMMENTS

pierresgaszlys I NEED MOREEE

f1elle ruby making friends 🥹

sebsbees imagine trading friendship bracelets with ruby leclerc

cruelsummerstan mathéo choosing to stay with his grandma awww 😭

charlesleclerc miss you!!

danielricciardosupremacy oh to live in monaco and trade bracelets with ruby leclerc 😭🥲

[nadvs]

　 —⊹　♡　︵　∘　 pretty lies ⟢

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you thought you could manage meaninglessly hooking up with your ex-boyfriend. you were sure that if you lied to yourself enough that you’re not still in love with him, you’d eventually believe it. it takes one bad night to see that you’re both still very much attached.

on loop “breakup tutorial” by laraw

content warnings toxic relationship, alcohol, smut

continuation of this blurb, inspired by this ask! started as a blurb but got very long! not necessary to read the previous works. takes place between s2-3. div credit.

You sit on your bed, the lump in your throat refusing to go away. You’ve been on the verge of crying since your friends left almost half an hour ago.

It was so embarrassing. You were hanging out downstairs, showing them something on your phone. That’s when Rafe texted you, the notification clear for everyone to see.

“Who’s Don’t Text?” one of your friends asked, confused by the contact name.

You locked your screen, meeting their cautious stares, sure they already knew.

Who else would you have saved as Don’t Text other than your toxic ex-boyfriend? It wouldn’t have been so damning if he hadn’t sent ok see you tonight.

So, you admitted it. That you’ve been hooking up with Rafe for the past few weeks, ever since the night of your friend’s birthday when you drunkenly texted him to ask for a ride home.

You knew what they were thinking. That you’re an idiot for inviting the man who you always cried over back into your life, the man who you repeatedly told your friends is an asshole, the man they watched tear your heart out when you tried to make your relationship healthier, just to be told by him that no, it wasn’t going to happen, he wasn’t going to try to get better for you.

While you thought it’d be a relief to have the secret off your chest, it wasn’t. The tension in the room was heavy, your friends piecing together that this is why you didn’t want them to sleep over on the one night you have the house to yourself. It’s because Rafe is coming over after they leave.

As you lean against your pillow, you read through your emotionless conversation with him, a noncommittal string of plans to hook up. Earlier this evening, you had texted my place later? He replied with time? You said around 1. He responded with ok see you tonight.

Your confession made your friends look at you with worry and contempt, asking “are you sure it’s a good idea?” when you told them it’s just sex and that he’s saved as Don’t Text because one day, you really are planning on not texting.

But they weren’t convinced. They said you’ll just undo your healing and wind up hurt all over again. And you’re angry because they’re right.

You brushed past the subject, saying that you’re unattached. It’s a lie.

Every time you see Rafe, you feel shameful relief. He’s a drug that gets better and harder to stop with every hit. Admittedly, you couldn’t wait for your friends to leave so you could sink into mindless pleasure with your ex.

He’s on his way now.

You scroll up to the top of the conversation with him. The oldest message is from when you asked him for a ride a few weeks ago. You had deleted everything, every piece of evidence of your relationship, when you first broke up so that you wouldn’t go back and reminisce.

But you still have a hidden folder in your phone. Of photos and videos and screenshots. And because you must love to torture yourself, you open it.

Photos of memories that you used to cherish and now wish you could forget flood your screen. You open your favorite photo of you and Rafe.

It’s a captured moment of you two on a couch at a house party, unknowingly being photographed as you laugh together, your head thrown back, Rafe gazing at you with a dimpled smile and unconstrained love.

Ironically, the friend who was telling you earlier tonight that he did nothing but make you cry is the one who took the photo.

You continue to scroll through the folder, stopping at a screenshot of a text he sent you. You remember reading it for the first time so clearly.

You’d been together a little over three months. You’d gone to the beach and settled on the sand by a hidden cove. Rafe brought a blanket and your favorite drink and you sat together and talked as the half-moon shone down over the water.

You had innocently asked if he had eaten yet and he opened up to you about how you’re the only person in his life who really cares about him. Nobody else worries if he ate or if he slept or if he’s been drinking too much. You hugged him and kissed him and stroked his hair, whispering promises of how amazing he was.

Your eyes travel over the text he’d sent you the morning after. I can’t believe you’re real.

Those sweet moments were dirtied when your relationship slowly descended into a twisted, toxic mess. Rafe became jealous and controlling and you became combative and unforgiving, both of you poisoning each other the longer you were together.

It’s day and night when you compare how your texts used to be to how they are now. Whether you were on good terms or arguing, at least when you were together, your messages had passion behind them. Now, every text is cold and clinical, making plans to fuck and nothing else.

Your phone buzzes. He’s here.

As you pace down the stairs towards the front door, you regret the way you dressed. After your friends left, you showered and slipped into your sexiest bra and panties and draped a silk robe over your shoulders.

It’s something you’d do when you were together, dressing up in something you know he’d love. But now, it feels silly, going the extra mile for a man who didn’t consider you worth fighting for.

Rafe waits for the door to open. It’s all he fucking does these days. Wait. Wait to get better, wait to be over you, wait to see you texted him and just ignore it instead of feeling his heart come together and break apart.

You keep the lights off, but when you swing open the door, he can see your figure in the muted dark. Your robe is barely held open by the knot over your waist. The sight of your cleavage sends hot electricity through him.

“Hey,” you say impassively, stepping away so he can come inside. You see that he cut his hair. It’s not hanging over his forehead anymore. He buzzed it and he looks so damn handsome that your heart skips a beat.

He grimaces when he notices your expression. This is why he’s been avoiding meeting your eyes lately. Because of that blank way you look at him, unaffected by his presence, only interested in sex, detached when you used to hold onto him like you’d die without him.

Rafe purses his lips, trying to act like seeing you doesn’t make his blood run hot, like one second of looking at you doesn’t make him hard. You’ve been broken up for nearly two months now, so he doesn’t understand why he has the impulse to compliment you on how pretty you dressed for him.

“How long are you alone?” he asks. He doesn’t want to deal with being seen by your parents. You’ve already told him how much your family and friends don’t approve of him. He can do without the reminder of how much he doesn’t fit in your life anymore.

“All night,” you say. “They’re not back until tomorrow.”

He follows you up the stairs, eyes trailing up your bare legs, already wanting to rip that robe off of you.

He hasn’t been in your bedroom in ages. He didn’t expect it to be so hard to be in here again when he owns the title of ex-boyfriend.

You pull him in immediately. You can’t deal with your thoughts anymore. You just want to drown in pleasure with someone who knows your body better than you know it yourself.

Rafe tastes like cinnamon with a hint of whisky, and you’re mad that he’s been drinking, but you think you forfeited the right to be mad at him for his choices when you ended things.

His tongue is warm against yours as you pull him down onto your bed. You sink into the mattress and he hovers over you. His hand roughly drags up your thigh, squeezing your ass, his cock already hard against you.

You hate how much you love the effect you have on him. Why does it make you so proud that you can get him so hard, that you can text him to come over and he does, savoring you like you’re forbidden fruit he’s been starving for?

Rafe’s kisses are ravenous, teeth nipping at your lips, kneading your ass, groaning against your mouth.

You spread your legs so that he’ll touch you and he knows what you want, because at this point, he reads your body like a book. He presses his fingers against your core, rubbing over your panties.

“Couldn’t wait for me, yeah?” he mumbles against your mouth.

Your brows pinch in sadness. Ever since you became exes with benefits, you play this game, dirty-talking taunts, fighting for power, as if one of you can win if you prove that the other needs this more.

But you don’t have it in you tonight. Not after the way your friends looked at you. Not after going through that stupid folder. Your heart weighs a thousand pounds.

“Just…” you breathe.

“Just what?”

He pulls your panties to the side, the warm pads of his fingers making direct contact, and you slightly buck your hips, a whine spilling from your mouth.

“Just what?” he demands, tracing up and down.

“Just make me feel good.”

It’s a plea much deeper than it sounds. You don’t just want the sexual gratification. You want to feel how you did before. Happy with him. Happy with who you are when he’s around.

Rafe’s lips press against your neck, taking on the challenge. He hasn’t gone down on you since the first time you fucked after your break-up, when you roughly pushed him down and sat on his face, using him, treating his body with so much anger.

He tells himself he hasn’t eaten you out since because it’s too loving of a gesture for two people who are just hate-fucking. But it’s not the truth. He doesn’t do it because he falls in love with you even more every time he tastes you.

He can’t bear to need you any more than he already does. You broke him in every sense of the word. You proved to him that he’s unloveable.

“Rafe, please,” you whisper, arching your back.

“What?” he rasps. “What do you want? Just fucking say it.”

You stay silent as he leaves open-mouthed kisses over your neck. He’s frustrated that you’re not answering.

“You want me to go down on you?” he says impatiently.

“Yes,” you whisper. He catches the shakiness in your tone. You don’t sound like who you’ve been since you started hooking up. You sound gentle and adoring like who you used to be with him. You sound like the woman you’re not anymore.

He ignores it, not giving in to ask what the hell is going on with you, not when he knows you’ll brush him off. He pushes your robe off your body, the silk slipping over your skin quickly, and shifts lower to put his head between your legs.

You moan when he kisses you over your panties. Your hands lace in his hair, but you don’t feel the locks you used to feel. Instead, you run your nails over the soft buzzcut, wondering when and why he cut his hair, knowing you won’t ask because you don’t make much conversation with him anymore.

He’s rough when he pulls your panties down, rushing to spread your lips apart and taste you as soon as he can. The heat of his open mouth against you makes you quiver in bliss.

Rafe’s head is swimming. You’re so soft and hot and wet against his mouth, sweet just like he remembered. He groans against you, starting to lap at every dip, your folds slick and delicate.

Your hand runs over his hair as you writhe beneath him, feeling his mouth working you, listening to the sounds of him licking and sucking.

He’s an addict relapsing and he wants to overdose, to replicate how this was when you lived in the promise of a relationship together, even though he knows it’ll kill him.

“Talk how you used to,” he murmurs.

“What?” you ask.

“Do it.” His voice is hoarse as he grips your thigh. He’s fucking mortified to be asking to be spoken to and praised the way he used to when he’d please you like this. But he needs it.

You look down to see Rafe’s head between your thighs, expecting clarity, but getting nothing else. He keeps his eyes off of you, licking you slowly.

“How I used to?” you whisper.

He shifts to run the tip of his tongue over your aching clit, pushing hot pleasure through you. You’ll do anything he wants if he makes you feel like this.

“I can,” you stammer breathily, willing yourself to fall into the old habit. He locks his lips around your clit and you shudder. “Shit. That’s good.”

“Yeah?” he pulls back to groan.

“So fucking good,” you say. “You know exactly what to do.”

Euphoria floods every one of Rafe’s senses and he lets himself believe, for just this moment, that you meant all the good things you said to him and none of the bad.

He sucks your most sensitive spot slowly, warm breaths pooling over you every time he pulls back.

“Just like that,” you whisper. “That’s perfect.”

Your words spur him on, his tongue flat against you, his lips and chin wet and sticky. He’s obsessed with the way you’re talking and breathing and moaning. He loves the sounds you make when you’re so deep in ecstasy that he’s giving you.

Your words are in your throat. You used to tell him you loved him whenever he did this to you, but you can’t and it’s a jarring realization that it’s not because you wouldn’t mean it, but really, because this is supposed to be indulgent and sinful, not loving and sweet.

“Whose?” he rasps. It’s what he used to always ask. Who your pussy belongs to. Whose you are.

You can’t say it.

“Whose?” he demands.

You give in.

“Yours,” you whisper. Saying it makes the tears that’ve been threatening to come out finally fall out of the corners of your eyes.

You’re his and you don’t want to be. Because being his means loving a broken man who doesn’t want to get himself together for you.

Your throat aches as you swallow down the pain, shuffling beneath him so he’ll take his mouth off of you. No matter how earth-shatteringly good it feels, you’ll cry if he keeps going.

You turn to perch up on your knees, looking back, but not meeting his gaze because you can’t handle him seeing you teary-eyed. Too many times in the past, you were vulnerable with him just to be called sensitive.

“Hard,” you say in a hush. You want him behind you, fucking you with force, giving you raw pleasure because you need the reminder that that’s all he’s capable of offering you.

Rafe’s pissed off that you cut it short, roughly tugging off his shirt and pulling down his jeans. He realizes you’re still in your bra and he unhooks it, because if he’s nothing but a fuck to you, he deserves to see all of you.

He holds himself at his base, on his knees, finding your entrance. The head of his cock sinks into you and you push back, needing him now.

Rafe smirks depravedly, revelling in the way you look with your ass up in the air for him, desperate for his cock. Good. Because he’s so fucking desperate for you that he still can only come to the thought of you.

His hands are on your hips and he shoves into you, making you gasp, granting your wish to give it to you hard.

He pulls back, then drives back inside over and over, your skin slapping against his, your ass recoiling with each thrust. Every plunge into you is fucking perfect. You’re squeezing him so tight.

Your breaths quicken, both panting as he fucks you from behind, filling you with a deep, hard pressure. It feels so damn good, your moans uncontrollable, but you can’t shut your mind up.

It’s all too much. Loving someone who accused you of not caring about him as much as he did about you was exhausting, but having to pretend you don’t love him at all is even worse.

You bury your face into your pillow, asking yourself the hell you’re doing, getting dressed up for him, letting him continue to take pieces of you every time you meet like this. For the first time, you can’t get lost in the pleasure. The pain is louder.

Rafe’s fingers dig into your hips as his body tightens with the promise of an orgasm. This is what makes it all worth it. When he’s balls deep in you, he doesn’t have the self-loathing thoughts that haunt him every minute he’s alone, he doesn’t have to pretend he’s somewhere else.

It feels so right to be inside you, even though you’re someone he’s supposed to hate. He’s empty, but with you is the only time he’s whole and he so deeply resents that he’s not enough for you, that all this has to be so goddamn complicated.

He sees stars when he comes, pumping deep inside you, grunting a broken string of fucks into your quiet bedroom air. It’s embarrassing to come this fast, but eating you out got him so worked up that he couldn’t control it.

He’s weak, hunching over, one arm holding himself up as stays inside you and skims his other hand over your hip and between your legs, rubbing your clit exactly how you need to come.

Your face is against the pillow, now wet with tears. You won’t be able to come. You can’t.

“Stop it,” you say, voice thick with sorrow.

You shift forward, feeling him slide out of you, collapsing to your side.

“Fuck,” you mumble in the pillow.

Rafe is at a loss. You were just moaning, pushing back against him, and now you’re angry at him, not wanting to let him give you an orgasm.

“What?” he murmurs, moving to lean over you, his hand resting on your sweat-sheened back. “Did it hurt?”

“Yes,” you say impulsively, because while it’s not physical pain, it is emotional agony. You can’t do this. Casual sex isn’t all that casual when the person you’re doing it with owns you in every possible way.

Rafe stiffens. You’re crying. He can hear it in your voice. When you sniffle, he feels like the lowest of the low, the biggest piece of shit in the world. He must have lost himself in the moment, going too rough.

“Are you okay?” he asks. His hand runs up and down the curve of your back, watching you with worried eyes, but like always, you won’t look at him.

“You can leave now.”

Rafe pulls his hand off of you. The bed shifts when he stands. You hear the shuffle of clothes. You look up to see his broad silhouette leave your bedroom, in just his boxers. You wipe away your tears.

In the dim glow of the lamp light, you watch him come back into your bedroom. He’s holding a towel, damp with warm water, and you’re weak, so you let him lie next to you in bed, gently turning you onto your back and wiping between your legs.

It’s something he’d do as a boyfriend, knowing his way around your home, cleaning you up. Not as an ex who’s using you for sex. Every hook-up you’ve had since you broke up ends with one of you abruptly leaving, no concern for aftercare or pillow talk.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, dabbing gently. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Any and every shred of anger and disappointment he holds for you is silenced. He’s disgusted in himself for hurting you. No matter what you are to him now, you were once the sun in a storm, the only person who didn’t make him feel like he was in the background of his own life.

He sounds devastated and you wriggle in your sheets to get a look at his face. His gaze darts to you for just a moment, but it’s enough for you to see that his eyes glossed over with tears.

You feel a prick on your heart. He’s crying over this? You would’ve thought he’d be fine with hurting you during sex. After all, he’s fine hurting you every other way.

“It wasn’t… it didn’t hurt,” you say softly. It’s the first time you care about not hurting his feelings since your catastrophic break-up.

“What? You said it did.”

You gently put your hand on his, stopping his movements, letting your tears fall now because there’s no point in hiding them anymore.

“I meant… what we’re doing hurts,” you admit, looking down at your hands atop the towel because you can’t bear to look into his eyes. “Hooking up like this. It’s fucking with my head.”

Rafe takes a moment to breathe, his chest rising and falling with tears that won’t stop.

His hand slides out from under yours and he sits up, wiping at his eyes. You toss the towel aside, sitting up, too, finding your robe and draping it over your body, even though he’s seen you naked so many times before.

You watch him in the dusk of your bedroom, the light soft over his handsome features, his lips parted as he stares down and tries to gain composure.

“You’re saying you want to stop?” he finally asks through hitched breaths.

You don’t know the answer. You don’t know if you want to stop having Rafe in your life, even in this twisted capacity.

You’re silent, sniffling as your cries refuse to cease. You can’t believe you’re here, both crying on your bed, both having crumbled so quickly.

“You have to answer me,” he says, blinking fast, his tone on the verge of a whine.

Your face is pinched in misery as you gaze at him. He looks up, his eyes bloodshot and glimmering.

“Do you want to stop?” you ask. It’s mostly a cop-out, a test to see if he feels anything more than lust for you.

“Don’t turn it on me,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “You told me to leave. And I’ll go and never come back if that’s what you want.”

Rafe’s eyes burn from the tears. He’s in pieces. He’s not going to be the one going out on a limb here, asking you to keep this arrangement with him. You have to decide.

“Do your friends know that you still see me?” you ask. What happened earlier tonight with your friends won’t leave your head.

“What?” Rafe squints in frustration.

“Do they?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. How the fuck did he get here? He was just living in a fantasy, finishing inside of you, releasing all his stress, and now, he’s facing the demons that he’s constantly trying to outrun.

“Yeah,” he says. “Why?”

“What do they say?”

“What are you getting at?” he huffs.

“Do they tell you to stop? Or that I’m bad for you?”

“You know we don’t talk like that,” Rafe tells you.

You chew on your lip, gently sweeping under your eyes with shaky fingers. You were the only one he didn’t keep at an emotional distance. The only one he opened up to who never told him to toughen up. It seems that hasn’t changed.

“My friends found out tonight,” you admit. He’s immediately on edge. It was an ongoing theme in your relationship that they never liked him.

“And what, they don’t approve?” Rafe mutters. “So, you’re ending this because you live by their rules?”

You pull your legs forward, curling into a ball with your forehead on your knees.

“Please stop,” you whisper defeatedly. “It’s not like that.”

He stares at you, a hole in his chest as your shoulders skitter with your cries. He always hated seeing you cry.

It’s overwhelming dealing with his own tears, so it’s a million times worse seeing yours. His reflex is to tell you to stop. But when you were his girlfriend, you’d told him, screamed at him really, that it was cruel of him to tell you to quit being sensitive when your body was just letting out pain.

And he’s been ruminating over everything you ever said to him, trying to figure out if there was an exact moment you fell out of love with him. He doesn’t want to be called cruel again.

“What’d they say?” he asks.

You’re surprised to hear the gentle tone of his voice. It’s relieving to not be fighting with him for once.

“That I’ll just end up hurt again,” you confess, your words muffled. “And I am. Already. I don’t remember what it’s like to not hurt.”

Rafe aches, taken aback. You’ve been cold and apathetic every time he’s seen you since the night you drunkenly hooked up in his car as exes. He never knew you were hurting, that he still has the power to do that to you.

“Me, neither,” he admits, his voice brittle. You lift your head to look up at him, needing to see his face to believe it.

“What else?” you ask.

“What else?” he echoes.

“What else do you feel?”

He swallows. It’s odd, not having the urge to hide behind his pride. But your gaze is so sincere, your sniffles so hard to listen to.

Rafe has never been good at talking through his feelings. He prefers to show them by yelling and throwing things and fighting because those methods are easy and safe.

Crying never feels safe. At one point, it did. With you. Before you broke his heart.

“You can tell me,” you say. “I won’t start a fight about it.”

“I don’t give a fuck if you start a fight,” he says, a humorless laugh leaving his lips.

“What do you give a fuck about?” you say, keeping your temper in.

Rafe mumbles your name in frustration, shaking his head.

“I don’t want to… talk to you about this shit just for you to not…” he trails off.

You know your ex well, aware that he needs to be coached through hard conversations. He doesn’t think before he speaks when he’s vulnerable. He rambles, at times all over the place, making it hard to understand him.

“For me to not what?” you ask.

“Think what I think,” he admits.

You rest your cheek on your knee, your eyes stinging with tears.

“What are you thinking?”

“Goddamn it. That I miss you, okay?” he says sharply. “And you just… you look at me like I’m a fucking stranger now.”

It’s the last thing you expected to hear. You thought you were just hook-up to him. Not somebody he misses. Your throat is raw. Your pulse is loud in your ears.

Rafe looks down again, breath shaky as his crying gets closer to sobbing. He’s a mess. He doesn’t do this shit in front of people. He does it alone, when he can’t hold it in any more, letting his cheeks burn with tears when he lies on his pillow at night, knowing there’s no point in trying to stop.

“You miss me?” you repeat. He scoffs, as if he’s angry you pulled it out of him. “What do you miss?”

“Why are you asking me this?” he mutters, annoyed. You always do this, pull at the string barely keeping him together, making him speak. It’s what he always loved and hated about you.

You take a beat before you answer, accepting that you’re about to break the promise you made to yourself to never open up to him again.

“Because I miss you, too,” you admit.

It’s the first time in months that you see light in Rafe’s eyes. A few seconds of heavy silence pass between you.

The moment’s not even over, but you already know you’ll think about it for a long time, about the feeling of sitting with him in your dim room this late at night, practically naked together on your bed, wordless. Every sense of anything sexual is gone, the atmosphere much more fragile.

Even after weeks of hooking up, this is the most intimate moment you’ve shared in a long time.

Then, his brows furrow, uncertainty and anguish flashing on his face. He doesn’t believe you.

“I do,” you say softly, nodding to confirm it.

Rafe opens his mouth to speak, looking down again, another tear rolling down his face and dripping off his chin. You watch the way his glossy bottom lip trembles, as if his mouth is refusing to let him get the words out.

This is when he cracks all the way, holding his head in his hands, silently sobbing. You gaze at him with a broken heart. You’ve seen him cry, but never this hard.

Despite all the pain and anger that festers between you, you shuffle closer. Your bunched up robe falls off your chest and you don’t care. You rest your hand on the back of his neck, guiding him to cry against your bare shoulder.

“It’s okay,” you whisper.

He shakes his head no against you. It’s so far from okay. It’s not fair to meet someone and give them all of himself just to be ridiculed and told that all of him isn’t enough.

But impulse and muscle memory take over and he wraps his arms wrap around you, bare chests pressed together, his face in the crook of your neck.

“You said I was just like my dad,” he murmurs shakily against your skin.

You squeeze your eyes shut. You compared him to his father once, just once, during a fight when you were together. He’d gotten angry at you for being upset, and you knew his dad had done that to him in the past, and the vile, spiteful words came out of your mouth with no filter.

You regretted it immediately. You had no idea he held onto it, too.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, running your hand up and down the back of his hair. “You’re not. I said that just to hurt you. I didn’t mean it.”

He burrows his face deeper, smelling you, his heavy arms lightly trembling as they encircle you. It’s ridiculous how he wanted an apology from you for so long, but now that you gave it, he feels guilty.

“I hurt you, too,” he says. “Your friends are right to hate me.”

“They’re just protective,” you say, your voice wobbly.

“You shouldn’t…” He breathes in sharply. “You shouldn’t need protection from me. I know I fucked up. I fucked up so bad so many times.”

Your mind replays your vicious fights before and after your break-up, how deeply he hurt you when he hurled insults at you and accused you of cheating and blamed you for your problems.

But the good parts weave their way in. You were best friends. You made so many good memories. He loved you, took care of you, spoiled you. You always came together after a fight. Until too much damage had been done.

You can’t deny that he fucked up. But you did, too. You were mean. You were spiteful. You ignored him because you knew how much it hurt him.

“I fucked up, too,” you say, never having liked when he spoke low of himself, hating that you’ve called him names and insulted him in the past. “You deserve to feel good about yourself, okay?”

Rafe exhales shakily. He’s not sure he agrees. He knows there’s a screw loose, something missing in him. Maybe someone like him is fated to hate himself because there’s nothing to love.

“You know why I miss you?” you offer, not waiting for a response. “I had fun with you. I loved how full of life you are and how intensely you care. I loved how you called me your girl and how you much you looked out for me.”

It’s the best thing you could’ve said. This is why you owned his heart. Why you still do. You can unravel him, but you can also you tie him back together. You’re the only one who knows how to.

“Why aren’t you my girl, then?” he finally mumbles.

You swallow hard. It’s not that simple. Not even close.

“You know why,” you say.

Rafe wills himself to pull back, leaving your shoulder wet with his tears, sitting inches away from you.

Your eyes are glossy and red. The sight is pure torture for him. You sigh when he swipes his thumb under your eye, wiping away a fresh tear.

“No, I don’t,” he replies, because really, he’d rather be in a fucked up relationship with you than be apart.

His chest twists with unease. That’s why. He’d choose to be miserable together because at least you’re together. You’d rather be happy with him or be nothing at all.

You look down, frustrated that he still doesn’t get it.

“You always said you loved me more, but it was the other way around,” you say. “Loving someone means wanting to be the best person you can, because it’s what they deserve.”

You meet his hardened eyes, feeling dizzy.

“Why didn’t I deserve it?” you ask.

Rafe’s skin goes cold. He pulls you in, his hands cradling your jaw as he meets your lips tenderly, because he can’t go another second without kissing you. You let him. It feels too good not to.

“You do,” he breathes when he shifts back, his nose nudging yours, his hands still holding your face. “You deserve it. You deserve everything.”

“You’re everything,” you whimper impatiently. He expels a breath of relief. The tears welling in his eyes are from happiness this time. You still care about him. There’s no way you don’t.

“I’ll be better,” Rafe says. You’ve heard him say it so many times before. Your heart isn’t fully out of its cage yet, but you’re willing to listen.

“How?” you say.

It’s been tumbling in his mind nonstop. A world where you’re together is all he thinks about. He straightens, palms still on your cheeks, gazing down at your watery eyes.

“I won’t yell at you,” he says. “I won’t control you. I won’t ever hurt you.”

“You can’t promise to never hurt me,” you say, skeptical.

“Watch me.”

Your lips briefly curl into a sad smile that fades away. He nervously licks his lips, needing you so bad that he feels it in his bones.

He’ll make a fool of himself if he has to. He got this far. He’ll spill his guts to you and if you tell him to leave, he’ll pick himself up and go, because at least he tried. He’s half a person these days anyway.

“I was born to be with you,” Rafe whispers through his tears, staring into the beautiful eyes he dreams about every night. “You’ll always be my girl, alright? I love you.”

A wave of hope and fear and excitement and worry crashes into you. You need a second to understand that this is really happening, to come up for breath.

You gaze at him, taking in how soft and sweet he looks. This is Rafe. Not the man who makes you feel like you can’t do anything right. Beneath everything, beneath his anger and his trauma, the person looking at you is who he really is, someone who just needs to feel loved.

“Talk to me, please, baby,” he begs, thumbs stroking your skin. He can’t take the miserable look on your face. “What are you thinking?”

“That it’s impossible not to love you back,” you confess. “I think maybe we… we can try this again.”

Rafe kisses you hard, passion and joy blazing through him, every part of him wanting every part of you.

Even if you tried, you couldn’t keep track of how many kisses he’s leaving on your lips and your cheeks, overcome with love. You sink into the satisfaction and relief of hope. You never thought you’d feel that with him ever again. Hope.

“I’ll be good to you,” he whispers breathlessly, his forehead against yours. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you,” you say, your hands dragging up his firm, naked back. “I never stopped.”

Rafe kisses you again and again and again, his head swimming, his heart racing. He won’t fuck this up. He’ll die if he loses you again.

He gently pushes you so you’ll lie on your back and you sigh in pure relief when his hand dips between your legs, sliding his fingers up and down.

He’s painfully aware that you never got the pleasure he did tonight. He needs to give you an orgasm, to make you feel all the happiness he possibly can.

“My girl,” he says. “I’ll only ever make you feel good. I promise.”

He shifts to rest his head on your chest, fondling you as he lies right over your heart. He hears it pounding, feeling so lucky that you made space for him in it and so determined to never let it hurt ever again.

You wrap one arm around his shoulders and the other settles over his cheek, stroking softly as he traces circles right where you need him to. Your breath is shaky, your body loose, craving him in every sense.

“I fucking live for you, you know that?” he whispers, finding heaven in the way you’re panting and moaning.

You writhe beneath him, adoring how he knows what to do, knows when to dip a finger in you, when to move back up to your clit.

You whisper that you love him over and over as you reach your orgasm, mind-blowing pleasure ripping through you, sure you’ve never felt this much physical and emotional relief at once.

As you tumble down into a blissful fog, Rafe continues to gently run his fingers over you, moving up to kiss you again.

“I live for you,” he repeats against your mouth.

You feel the same way. You know now that you two weren’t destined to fall. You were meant to be happy together. It just took some time to get there.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Flip a Switch

Synopsis: When you find out information regarding your husband and his career, you confront him and demand an explanation as to why he kept it a secret from you

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a cutie anon 💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

You walked into the house with a smile on your face and was met with your husband coming out of the kitchen. He was originally looking down at his phone, but once he heard the front door open, he looked up to see his favorite person running full speed into him and he immediately caught you. Your arms instantly went around his neck as he buried his face in your hair.

“I missed you.” You whispered to him as you picked your head up to kiss him.

“I think I missed you more. I didn’t think you would be gone that long, but truth be told I should have known better. Any time the two of you go out together you tell me that you won’t be long and it ends up being the complete opposite.” He responded as he placed you back down on your feet, but still had a tight hold on you.

“Hmm, blame your mom. At first it was only supposed to be lunch, but then we went shopping and then I somehow ended up in the candle section of TJ Maxx and it was….”

“How much money did you spend? Because I don’t see any bags with you.” Joe asked as he looked behind you.

“Oh, they’re in the car. My original plan was to sneak them in, but I saw that you were back from practice so I decided against it knowing that you would probably see me. And I'm not telling you how much I spent.”

“Mm hmm, like those six amazon packages that were delivered last week.” Joe said as he eyed you, but all you did was smirk.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, baby.” You playfully told him as you kissed him once more.

“Yeah, I think I’ve heard that line before.”

“But, would you mind bringing the bags in for me while I go and take a shower? Then I’ll meet you back down here?” You asked as you batted your eyelashes hoping that he would say yes.

“Don’t I do anything and everything for you? You didn’t even need to do all that. All you had to do was ask.” Joe laughed as he reached down to kiss your nose.

“Yes I did! Your mom also went with me to get them done! Don’t they look good?”

“I… I need to set some boundaries when you two hang out together because every time it gets worse and worse.”

“Hey! Don’t get mad that your mom loves me more than you and wants to spend time with me! But on a real note, I’m super thankful for your family and the way that they embraced me when we first started dating. When you don’t come from that and not being told you’re important and you’re loved, it really is amazing to see.” You confided in your husband and a smile grew on his face.

“From our first date, I knew that they would love you. After we had dinner that one night when I took you to meet them, both of my parents told me that you were the one and that they could see it. Now look, married for two years.”

“Really? You never told me that. I adore both of them so much and they treat me like I’m theirs.”

Your in-laws were some of the most amazing and caring people that you had ever met and you instantly felt at ease when Joe first introduced them to you.

“Oh trust and believe that they do. Any time I call them, the first thing they ask me is ‘how’s Y/N?’ like I haven’t been their child for damn near 28 years, but I get it. I’m obsessed with you just like everyone else is. And now we’re trying to add a little one to that.” He responded as he gently placed his hand on your mid-section.

“Hopefully it’ll happen soon. We can try again later if you’re up for it.” You told him as you sent a wink his way.

“I’m definitely not going to turn that down. But for now, go upstairs and I’ll get your 100 bags out of the car.” He said as he finally released you from his embrace and you were missing his warmth already.

“It’s not that many this time, I promise!”

“Yeah, not listening to you because last time I had to make three trips.”

“I got stuff for you too!”

“Not the point!” Joe yelled back as he had opened the door and was making his way to your car.

Making your way up the steps and into your shared bedroom with Joe, you threw off your clothes and put them into the hamper as you made your way into the bathroom to warm up the water for your shower. You washed your face before checking the temperature of the water and when you were finally satisfied with it, you covered your faux locs with a shower cap and finally stepped underneath the water. You grabbed your coconut body wash and grabbed your wash cloth as you began to lather it all over your body.

You were rinsing off, when you suddenly felt a presence behind you which made you jump. Turning around you were face to face with your husband and you playfully hit him on his arm.

“You scared me! Don’t do that!”

“I’m sorry! I thought you heard me!”

“How in the world could I have heard you with the shower running, babe? Be serious!”

“You hear me any other time! I didn’t mean to scare you.” Joe told you as he leaned down to kiss you.

“I was thinking maybe we could get some practice in before later.” He whispered against your lips before kissing you once more and moving his hands down to your hips.

“But only if…” You immediately cut him off.

“Yes.”

“Then jump.”

–

As the two of you sat on the couch after your shower, Joe's arms were wrapped around you and placing soft kisses all over your face and neck as you scrolled through Instagram.

“Baby! Quit it!” You told him while laughing, but he held onto you tighter and nuzzled his face in your neck.

“Why? You smell so good, like I could eat you.”

“You did that already less than an hour ago actually. Don’t you remember?”

“Yes, and I plan on doing it again later.” He whispered and you playfully rolled your eyes.

"Joseph Lee...." You quietly said and Joe's heart rate instantly began to increase because of the tone of your voice.

"Um, yes baby? Am I in trouble? You never call me by my name unless I am." He tried to make light of it by laughing, but the last thing that you were was amused.

“I'm about to turn you every way but loose if you don't explain this." As you shoved your phone towards him, he began to read the Instagram post and his eyes began to widen as he saw what it was about.

He refused to look at you and muttered a simple ‘fuck’ under his breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his right hand as you moved your phone away from his face and set it to the side of you.

“So, that's all you have to say?” You asked him and it was clear to him that there was no way that he was getting out of this conversation any time soon.

“I… babe… look I've just been thinking about it. Nothing is permanent yet. I don't want you to get upset about this.”

“How can I not get upset about it?” You slightly raised your voice as you moved off of his lap to sit next to him.

“Like I said, nothing is certain yet.”

“Hmm, so you hide secrets from me now?”

“Baby, it's not a secret. I….”

“It obviously is a secret because I had to find out on instagram of all places. So when were you going to tell your wife that you want to be TRADED?”

“Soon, okay? I was going to tell you soon!”

“How soon?! Like, how can you even think about that? Especially at a time like this?”

“Babe….”

“NO! We made a five year plan and that plan included us staying here. I just got the job that I had been after for more than three years! We just bought this house! We plan on having a baby! We’re close to your parents and your family. If we leave, we won’t have ANY of that!” You explained to him and the thought of all of that happening so soon honestly terrified you.

“Okay, I get that, I really do. But I also have to think about what’s best for me and what’s best for my career. I thought that you would understand that!”

“Without consulting me?! Last time I checked I was your wife! You literally tell me EVERYTHING. Don’t you think that this is something that we should talk about?! Especially when it literally might change everything that I’ve worked for!”

“In a marriage, sacrifices and compromises need to be made.” Joe told you as he shrugged, and your anger and frustration at him had hit a new level.

“Didn’t realize that pissing me off was on your agenda for the night.”

“I’m not trying to! Like I said, I haven’t even signed anything yet so there is no reason for you to be losing your shit on me like you are right now!”

“It’s the principle of it! YOU LIED TO ME. The person that I married NEVER lies to me. That’s my issue and you are seriously up here acting like it’s no big deal!? I literally just told you earlier when I got back how important your family is to me and that I love being around them and now I find this out? This is the first time that I actually feel like I have one! And me finding this out doesn’t even come from my own husband?”

“The only thing I’m sorry for is not telling you and then you finding out on social media. That’s it.”

“Never thought that I would say this, but I don’t think I want to be around you right now.” You quietly told him as you got up from the couch with him trying to take hold of your wrist.

“Baby….”

“I’m going upstairs.”

Leaving Joe in the living room, you walked upstairs and sat on your bed as you were trying to collect your thoughts about what had just happened. Your biggest thing was that he kept this from you. You were literally the first person that he told everything to so you couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t tell you this seeing as this is a big decision being made for him and his career.

Bottom line was that you were hurt.

Just when things were starting to go your way and you had finally gotten settled and comfortable with living here, it seemed like it was being pulled right from underneath you.

Your phone that had been long forgotten after seeing the post suddenly vibrated and you looked to see that it was a text from Joe’s mom, Robin. Quickly opening it, you saw that it was a screenshot of the same instagram post that you had confronted your husband about.

Robin- Did you know about this? He hasn’t said anything to us.

You- Nope, nothing. I found out the same way you did and I let him have it.

It was now Saturday evening and you and Joe were sitting at the dining room table eating dinner in absolute silence. You had originally found out on Wednesday and had said less than ten words to him every day since then. It was awkward, and Joe knew that he had to be the one to fix it so that the two of you were both satisfied with the decision in the end. Soon after you had walked away from him that night, he had gotten a call from his parents to demand an explanation on why they found out via social media and not him.

“Baby?”

“What?”

“How long are you going to ignore me?” Joe asked and you wanted to jump in his arms right then and there, but you had to stand your ground.

“I’m not ignoring you. I’m talking to you right now.”

“You’ve barely said anything to me since Wednesday and it’s now Saturday night.”

“Hmm, playing for your new team tomorrow or are you still employed with the Bengals?” You pettily asked and Joe immediately sighed before rolling his eyes.

“Seriously?”

“I just asked a question and there’s no harm in me doing that.” You answered as you stabbed your mashed potatoes.

“Are you coming to the game tomorrow?” Joe asked with uncertainty.

“When have I missed a home game of yours?”

“Never. But you’ve never been this pissed at me before either. At least from what I remember.”

“Well you brought this on yourself, but yes I’m coming along with your parents. Now hurry up and finish eating so I can clean up.”

“I can do it, don’t even worry about it.” Joe told you as he sighed and pushed the food around on his plate.

“And are you actually going to sleep next to me tonight?”

“I’ll decide when I get upstairs, but no promises.” You answered over your shoulder as you had started to walk away.

After Joe had cleaned up the kitchen, he made his way to his office down the hall and closed the door. Once he sat down, he dialed Brian’s number who was his agent and he picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, I was just about to call you.”

“Hey, so did you read over the contract? How does it look?” Joe asked as he leaned back in his office chair.

“I did and I personally don’t think this is the best move for you. I get it that you might be frustrated with the way that things are going right now with the team, but this will probably lead you to being more unhappy.”

“How so?”

“First off, they are definitely low balling you for money and they don’t look like they’re changing their minds about that. They claim that they want you so bad, but obviously not bad enough. How did Y/N react when you told her?”

“She found out on instagram and proceeded to rip me a new one. She’s still not really talking to me since she believes that I kept this from her.”

“Well, I can see her point and you did keep it from her. I don’t know who ended up leaking it, but when it happened, I knew that it wasn’t about to go over well. My advice, stay where you are. We can get a few more good years out of them and if you’re still not satisfied, then we’ll look elsewhere.”

“If you think that’s best.”

“I do, but you need to tell your wife first when we get to that point so she isn’t blindsided like she was this time.”

“Now that I can agree with.”

After staying on the phone a little bit longer with Brian, Joe walked upstairs to the master bedroom and was surprised to see you sitting there. Once you looked up at him, you sighed and then patted the space next to you to tell him to sit down. Once he did, you took his hand in yours before saying anything.

“I thought about what I said the other day and I need to apologize to you too. I think that my reaction also made you think that I didn’t support you when that is far from the truth. I will follow you anywhere and do absolutely anything for you. I just… that blindsided me and it also made me think that you didn’t totally support me either. I can find another job, I get that but everything that I want is right in front of me.” You confessed and Joe simply nodded his head, letting you know that he understood.

“I know that you support me and that thought never crossed my mind. You were upset and for good reason. I should have told you and not gone behind your back trying to hide it from you. You deserved better than that and you were completely right when you said that I tell you absolutely everything.”

“So, therefore whatever you decide, it’s fine.”

“No.” Joe quickly answered and you were left confused.

“No?”

“Before any big decisions like that are made, we have to come to that decision together so that we don’t go through this again. I don't like it when my wife doesn't talk to me or she doesn't want to be around me.”

“Okay, agreed. And I also missed giving you kisses.” You confessed and laughed at the small smirk showing on Joe's face.

“So with that being said, we’re not going anywhere.” Joe told you and you looked at him in disbelief.

“But, I thought…”

“Brian looked over the contract and was trying to negotiate, but he told me it’s probably in my best interest to stay here so that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Now, are you absolutely sure?” You asked your husband and he simply nodded his head.

“Positive and at the end of the day, I also want to keep my wife happy since she's in it with me for the long haul.”

“Sacrifices and compromises.” You quietly said as he repeated it back to you.

“Sacrifices and compromises.”

Joe leaned over to place a kiss on your forehead and you immediately embraced him.

“So, I guess my good luck charm is actually sleeping next to me tonight?”

“I am, so you better make sure that you win.” You told him as you got comfortable on your side of the bed with him climbing in next to you and wrapping his arms around you.

It was quiet for a few minutes before you spoke.

“Baby?”

“Oh, so my name is back to being baby now?”

“Don't push it, Joseph.” You told him as he laughed.

“Hmm. Yes?”

“What team were you going to go to? I want to know. I'm curious.”

“I don't even want to tell you because you aren't going to let me hear the end of it if I do. You might even ask for a divorce.”

“You are so dramatic. Why? You're not going anymore so tell me.”

Joe mumbled something under his breath, but you turned around to face him in the hopes that you would be able to hear him better.

“What was that, babe?”

“Ravens.”

“JOSEPH LEE BURROW! WHAT!?” You yelled as you sat up and turned on the lamp that was sitting on the bedside table.

“SEE! THAT'S WHY I DIDN'T WANT TO TELL YOU! Apparently Lamar had been having some issues with his contract soooo……”

“I would have NEVER forgiven you for that one.”

“You made that pretty clear, princess and like I said you would probably ask for a divorce.”

“Not a divorce, but we would definitely have to separate for a while.”

[hyunniesgirl]

Can I be your favorite?

Pairing: Lee know x reader

Genre: smut, fluff

Summary: Lee Minho is unreachable, someone you can only just dream of being with. Until one day, you enter the wrong door at a party and ends up with him inviting you to sit on his lap.

Part 2

THIS CONTENT IS +18 ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: corruption kink, protected piv, fingering, Minho is kinda possessive.

You're okay with not being popular, it's not like you'll be like that forever, it's just college and in a few years everything will be forgotten so you just keep living your life, going to your classes and hanging out with your best friend.

The only time you ever wish you were popular, though, is when you see him. Lee Minho. The guy of your dreams. He's vice president of the greatest fraternity on campus, so everyone knows him.

Lee Minho is someone mysterious, no one knows much about him other than that he changes girlfriends faster than he changes clothes. So more than half of the girls in this university already had their heart broken by him.

That doesn't make you like him less though, it's not like something will ever happen between you two so a little crush on him is not something to worry about, even more so when he doesn't even know about your existence.

Your best friend, Jihyo is the opposite of you, she likes partying and she always tries to drag you to one of her nights out. That's how you ended up in the situation you're in right now. Alone in the kitchen of a frat house, listening to a drunk guy teaching you about your own major, while sipping on a drink you're not even sure about the contents.

You watch as a group of people play beer pong on the counter in the middle of the kitchen, everyone is sweating and there's alcohol being spilled all over the place. You're at a safe distance but you pity the person who's going to clean this up later on.

You have no idea where Jihyo went, she told you she was going to the bathroom half an hour ago and never came back. You're tired of hearing this guy too, he's talking about first year contents when you're already in your third year.

“That's so interesting”, you smile at him, “but I have to go find my friend now”, you don't let him say a word, quickly sneaking away from the kitchen.

You look around, trying to find your best friend, but she's nowhere to be seen. Maybe she's on the second floor, you ask people and they tell you exactly where the bathroom is. However, you shouldn't be so quick as to trust drunk people.

Because when you open the door people pointed out as the bathroom, you find a room with red lights brightening the dark space.

There's a bed in the middle of the room and in that bed there's a couple and that couple happens to be Lee Minho and someone you have no idea who it is. They are luckily not in a compromising position, not making out or something worse. She's just sitting on his lap, having her giggles stopped by the bright light that comes from the door when you open it.

Your eyes grow wide when Minho looks at you with his fierce unfriendly eyes.

“Hm- I'm- sorry, I thought this was the bathroom”, you smile sheepishly, fidgeting on your feet.

Minho looks at you up and down and you swear you can see a smirk forming on his lips, but you're not sure since the light is not great.

“I guess the sign with my name on the wall is not very visible”, he points out dryly, making your face turn red. Great, that's great. Nice way to be humiliated by your crush, y/n.

“I apologize, I really didn't see it”, you say again. You should already have gotten out of there but for some reason it seems that your feet are stuck on the ground.

“Honey, why don't you go downstairs, I'll talk to you later”, Minho says to the girl on his lap, making her groan in frustration. She gets up, angrily walking past you. “You should close the door if you're going to stay”, he tells you and your feet finally move just enough to be able to close the door with you still inside.

“Do you know where the bathroom is?” You ask like an idiot.

“I live here”, he says obviously, “but I don't think you're still looking for the bathroom”, he grins, seeing you lick your lips. “Why don't you come and take a seat?”

Your legs move on it's own once more, giving slow unsure steps in his direction. You sit on the edge of the bed, watching him carefully as he leans back, supporting his upper body on his hands, arms spread on the mattress.

He stares at you, surprised. Minho chuckles, shaking his head.

“That's not what I was talking about”, he tells you, landing his hand on his thigh and tapping there. “Why don't you try sitting here?” He asks.

You feel your whole body turning hot, why is he asking for you to sit on his lap?

“I-I should get going”, you stand up fast, but before you can walk away he takes a deep breath.

“Are you sure that's what you want?” Minho tilts his head, waiting for your answer.

No, that's not what you want. You really, really want to sit on his lap and let him do anything he wants with you. So you give in to your desires, stepping closer to him and bending down to sit on his thigh.

He bites on his bottom lip, watching you fidgeting and trying to get comfortable. By the way you're stiff, it's obvious you have never done this before and that gets him excited.

He corrects his posture, sitting with his chest close to you. One of his hands lands on your left thigh and the other goes to your waist.

Minho doesn't need to waste another second to find out that he likes you. You're just his type, shy and reserved, someone who he can corrupt. Someone who can make him go absolutely crazy.

“You see, I see the way you look at me”, he says, caressing your back with the hand he had on your waist. “Jihyo is not very quiet and every time she catches my attention you're there and every time I look at you, you're looking at me”, he says, like he's saying something you don't know. “After some time I just came to the conclusion that you may like me. Am I right about that?”

You nod automatically, like you're obligated to tell him the truth. Maybe your brain just doesn't work when you're near him.

“Hmm”, Minho hums, “tell me then, what can you do for me?”

“W-what do you mean?” You manage to ask, getting goosebumps with every touch of his.

“I mean to say, why should I choose you? I have a great number of options”, he smirks. He's teasing now, even though he's already set on making you his, he just wants to hear your answer.

You have so many things to use at your advantage, pretty lips that he wants to kiss, soft skin that he wants to leave marks all over and the sweetest voice that he wants to hear crying his name while he fucks you so deeply you'll beg him to keep going.

“Anything”, you gulp, “you can do anything you want with me, I'm entirely yours”, and that is better than anything else he could hear. That is the last straw.

Minho puts his hand behind your neck, pulling you to him and kissing you in a hungry, hot kiss. He grabs your hair with the other hand, pulling a handful and making you groan with the sudden pain but it's still so good. His tongue brushes on your lips, entering your mouth and slightly caressing yours. The way he's grabbing you is just too much, you feel like you're going to explode at any moment.

Minho lets go of you for a moment just to take his shirt off, showing you his bare chest. He gets back on grabbing you, pressing you against his body. You're not sure if this is right but it definitely doesn't feel wrong.

You take your crop top off, throw it on the floor and pray that Jihyo will forgive you for doing that with her clothes. Wrapping your arms around Minho's neck, you kiss him again, feeling his bulge beneath you.

He sneaks a hand down your stomach, unbuttoning your jeans and pushing your panties to the side as soon as he manages to reach your soaking cunt.

Minho presses a finger on your clit, you stop the kiss just to gasp and he pulls away, staring at you while he inserts a finger between your folds.

“Has anyone ever fingered you?” He whispers, listening to your low moans, you're cute trying to hold back.

You open your eyes to look at him, shaking your head. That's beautiful, he gets even more excited to know he's the first one giving you pleasure like that.

“And what about sex, have you had it before?” He asks one more question, pushing his finger in and out of you.

“A-a few times”, you struggle to say, feeling your cheeks hot.

“That's good, virgins aren't really my thing”, he smirks, “then, you can handle one more finger, right?” He asks, not waiting for your answer and pushing in another finger inside of you.

“Oh”, it's the only sound you can make. You hold him harder, with your mind dizzy. “It's too much”, you sob, feeling the stretch, it burns a bit but it's so good.

“Oh, Kitten”, he pouts. “How are you supposed to handle my cock if you can't handle two fingers? I'm bigger than that”, he smirks while saying that.

“I can do it, I can”, you nod frantically, too drunk on the pleasure of his fingers inside you to think straight.

“I'm glad you're confident”, he takes his fingers out of you and takes them to his mouth, liking every drop of your juice. “Your taste might be my new favorite”

He helps you get up, your legs are weak even though you didn't cum. Minho helps you lie on the bed, pulling your jeans down, trailing kisses down your legs while dragging out the fabric.

“You are pretty”, he mutters, taking off his pants and underwear, crawling back to stay on top of you, kissing your chest and your collarbone, biting on the skin and leaving a couple of hickeys there. Minho goes down your breasts, sucking and licking your nipples, kneading at the other with his hand. He's humping on your leg, rubbing his hard cock on your thigh.

His touch makes you feel like you're on fire, tingling sensations spreading all over your body. His kisses leave you so turned on, you don't think you ever felt this horny.

“Kitten”, he calls you, making you blush. It's crazy to think that even though you two are naked in front of each other, him calling you a pet name is what makes you flustered.

Minho gives you a peck on the lips, leaning over to the bedside table to look for a condom. He opens the package with his teeth, spitting the piece of plastic and stroking his cock on hand.

He looks so good, standing on his knees in between your legs, eyes closed feeling his fist caressing him.

“Let me do it”, you take the courage to say, sitting and taking the package out of his mouth into your hands. Minho watches you attentively as you grab the base of his cock, sliding the condom down his length.

“Fuck”, he murmurs, grabbing your face on his hands and kissing you so hard you can taste blood, not sure from which of you.

Minho positions himself in your entrance, looking at you to wait for your consent and when you nod he pushes in. You wrap your legs around his hips, trying to bring him closer even though it hurts a bit, it's so good you think you will go crazy.

“M-minho”, you moan, throwing your arms around his waist, digging your nails on his skin.

“Shit, you're perfect”, he starts moving, each trust making you moan louder. Your walls are squeezing him so deliciously that he can cum at any moment. His cock feels so good, reaching all the places you didn't even know existed.

Minho kisses you, fucking into you so fast you can barely breath. You never thought he could be even more beautiful, hair stuck on his sweaty forehead, eyes staring intensely at yours, bottom lip stuck between his teeth while he fucks you senseless. He leans closer, kissing your neck, leaving a long and a bit painful mark there.

“You're mine now”, he smiles shakily, clearly close to his release. You can feel your orgasm approaching too, cumming and tightening your legs around his hips, making his release follow yours.

Minho gives you a kiss before falling to your side, breathing heavily accompanied by you. You don't know what to say and you're scared he'll pretend this was nothing so you get up, collecting your things, not waiting for him to kick you out.

“What are you doing?” He asks, scowling.

“Getting dressed so I can get out”, you explain naively, being watched by him like you're the prey and he is the predator.

“What part of “you're mine now”, you didn't understand?” He asks, laying down with an arm beneath his head and the other stretched to the side of the bed, waiting for you to lie there. “Come back here, I'm not even nearly done with you”, he smirks, watching you blush again.

You drop the clothes you have collected, crawling back on the bed and snuggling close to him. Minho pulls you closer, turning to you and wrapping his free arm around your waist.

“I'll tell you what we're gonna do”, he explains and you nod, “I'm going to fuck you until the only thing you can remember is my name and after that I'll take you out to dinner”

Lee Know presses his body on yours, showing you that his cock is already hardening again and you giggle, blushing once more.

Never have you felt so happy to trust drunk people's instructions.

A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback gives me motivation to keep writing.

[willowsnook]

Let me in

Hi! Love your idea for a prompt list. Can I order: A turkey swiss on wheat bread, maybe mike’s way if you feel like it’s fitting for the sandwich?

Joe burrow x bsf!reader

Please don’t leave

—-----------------------------------------

Fall in Cincinnati was something that you loved. The trees changed colors, you could start leaving your windows open, and, of course, Bengals football. Now, you’d never claim that you were a die-hard fan, that was still reserved for your beloved Green Bay Packers, but after 5 years in the city, they were a solid 2nd favorite. Plus, being good friends with the starting quarterback meant you had to root for them. 

You met Joe at a charity event a year after you moved to Ohio. Working for a Cincinnati-specific lifestyle magazine, your recommendations and reviews had made you quite well known in the city. Your strategy was always finding small, hidden gem places, usually family-owned, to review and elevate. This fulfilled your need to make a difference and also get paid to eat food. 

While your job was so public and in the spotlight, you were pretty introverted, which surprised a lot of people. You didn’t necessarily enjoy being the center of attention, focusing more on making those around you shine. This meant that while you were appreciative of being recognized by the community, you hated going to big events; you’d much rather just be writing about them. 

So when the introverted star of Cincinnati joined you in the shadows of an event, the two of you hit it off. Knowing who you were, his PR team had noticed and pitched a content series involving Joe. You spent a whole day with him, going to places he recommended and giving instant reviews. Initially, you were worried about it being awkward because you didn’t know him well, but you both had a blast. Joe was easy to talk to, and he liked that you treated him like anyone else. 

After that, he’d invited you to hang out with his friends several times, and Ja’marr really liked you, insisting that you be added to the friend group. Since then, you’d spent the last couple of years being forced to go to every home Bengals game, but you could also easily force one of them to help you with some kind of content for work. A mutually beneficial friendship you thought. 

Midway through the week, you were back at your apartment, taking pictures of some cookies someone sent you to be considered for an upcoming article you were writing. You snapped the perfect picture just as your phone rang, and you looked over to see it was Joe calling. 

“What’s up?” You said, putting the phone on speaker. 

“I’m bored. Can I come hang?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I’m doing some work, but I’ll be done soon.”

“Okay, I’m on my way.” 

You were used to Joe calling you randomly to hang out, especially when the season was going poorly. One thing you learned in your years of friendship with him was that he didn’t like to be alone, mostly so he didn’t spiral thinking about everything. You were happy to be a friend he could lean on. 

15 minutes later, you heard your front door open and smiled as Joe wandered into the kitchen. He gave you a small squeeze from behind as you leaned over your laptop. 

“Are you doing anything with these?” He asked, and you looked over at the cookies. 

“No, I just got done. Have at it,” you replied, amused as he shoveled one into his mouth. 

“These are pretty good,” he said, swallowing. “But I’ve had better.”

“Hmm,” you thought. “What don’t you like about them?”

“Too grainy,” he said, and you agreed, unable to think of what you were feeling. 

“That’s a good point; I’m using that,” you said, typing it down in your notes. 

“Watch out, I’m going to steal your job,” he joked, and you smirked. 

“Does that mean I get yours?”

“You’d probably do a better job than me right now,” he said, and you frowned, shutting your laptop. 

“You are still a superstar, even when you lose,” you told him earnestly, getting a small smile from him. 

“I think I need you with a headset on to tell me that during the games,” he said, and you laughed. 

“Yeah yeah,” you replied, blushing. “Want to take a walk or something? I need to get out of the house.” 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

The two of you walked down the street and ventured towards the water, chatting about upcoming events and his family coming to visit. You started to get chilly and held your arms briefly before Joe noticed. He pulled his hoodie off with one hand and handed it to you, not even stopping what he was saying. You pulled it on, inhaled the lingering cologne, and sighed. 

“Will you come to dinner with us tomorrow night?” he asked, jolting you back to reality.

“With your parents?” you asked, and he nodded. “Would that not be a little weird?”

“Why would it be weird?” 

“I don't know. I just wouldn’t want them to think we were dating or anything,” you said, confused. Joe frowned at that, but you didn’t have time to analyze it. 

“Ja’marr is coming too,” he said. “You are both my best friends, so I’d like you to meet them.” 

“Okay, if it’s important to you,” you agreed, giving in. Dinner with Joe’s parents. Huh. Sometimes you really didn’t understand why he chose you as a best friend when many people were fighting over it. If only people knew how clingy Mr. Cool was. 

—---------------------------------------------------

Ja’Marr picked you up from your place the next night and the two of you headed to dinner. 

“You look nice,” he commented, and you smiled. You and Ja’Marr had a flirty relationship, but nothing had ever come of it. One time, when you were both very drunk in the offseason, you had made out but it didn’t last long with him backing out, saying that Joe was going to kill him. You had just assumed that Joe didn’t want anyone in the friend group dating in case it got messy, which was understandable. With Ja’marr, you were mostly just attracted to him vs. wanting something more. 

“I still feel weird about this whole thing,” you admitted to him and he gave you a lazy smirk. 

“Please, they’ll love you,” he assured you. 

“That’s not what I’m worried about; I’m amazing,” you said, causing him to laugh. “I just think it’s weird and intimate. Like if my parents were in town, yeah, maybe I wouldn’t mind them meeting you guys at the game or to celebrate in a group after. But I wouldn’t invite you for a small dinner.” 

Ja’Marr gave you a look you couldn’t decipher before laughing to himself. 

“I’ll try not to take offense to that,” he said and you rolled your eyes. 

The restaurant was a nicer one that you had been to before for work. Joe’s parents stood up as you approached the table and warmly greeted you. His mom pulled you into a tight hug, laughing about how excited she was to meet you finally. You shot Ja’Marr a look and found him trying not to laugh. You could tell Joe was embarrassed, which made the situation a little amusing. 

Sitting down beside him, he gave you an easy smile while handing you the drink menu. Joe’s dad jumped into conversation with Ja’Marr about the season while Robin asked you a ton of questions about your job and basically your whole life. You ended up loving his parents; they were the sweetest people. While you might have missed the way that Joe was looking at you the whole dinner, his parents definitely did not. 

“It was so good to meet you y/n,” Robin gushed. “I’m sure we’ll see much more of you in the future.” 

You smiled, confused, while Ja’Marr couldn’t hold back his laugh. Joe’s face turned bright red and his dad chuckled. 

—------------------------------------------------

If you had thought the season was going poorly before it was a million times worse now. It seemed like each week, your two friends were putting up superstar numbers but still losing. After watching them lose by just a point to the Ravens, you clicked the TV off and sighed. Reaching for your phone you texted him a white heart and watched him read it and not reply. He usually would, even after a loss, but this one was tough so you didn’t pay much mind to it. 

As the week went on, you started to feel Joe’s tension about the team bleed into your friendship. He wasn’t answering your calls and had replied to any text you had sent him with just one word. What had really pissed you off though, was that he was supposed to shoot a Thanksgiving promo with you about places that provided free food for those who needed it and he didn’t show. 

“I get that you’re having a tough time right now and while I can live with you being a bad friend I can’t live with you 1. making me look bad professionally and 2. disappointing people making a difference. So give me a call when you figure your shit out,” you ranted to his voicemail. 

You were supposed to fly out for the game this weekend but weren’t sure if you still should. Calling Ja’Marr, you complained about Joe being a dick and that you didn’t know what to do. He assured you that you should still come and that Joe was just hurting because of the season. The best thing you could do was be there for him, even in the shadows. 

The game started out horribly with it being 24-6 leading into halftime. But a different team came out in the third quarter, and you went crazy as the Bengals got ahead. But like the week before, no matter what Joe did, even throwing for over 350 yards, they still lost in the end. You lingered by the locker room after the game and smiled sadly as you saw Ja’Marr first. He wrapped you in a hug, and he was happy to have you there. Joe on the other hand, did not look happy to see you. 

“What are you doing here?” he said coldly, and both you and Ja’Marr flinched. His teammate gave him a weird look, but Joe was just staring at you blankly. 

“I’ve had these tickets since before the season, you know that,” you replied. 

“I didn’t want you to come,” he said and you tried to ignore the hurt you felt. “Did you not get the hint from me ignoring you all week?” 

“Oh, so is that why you stood up the charity?” You bit back. “So that I would ‘get the hint’?”

Joe didn’t say anything, clenching his jaw and Ja’Marr tried to step in. 

“I wanted her to come man,” he said and Joe snapped his head towards his friend. 

“Well just fuck her then and get over it,” he replied and your jaw dropped. Ja”Marr shoved him backward, yelling at him before security intervened. You recovered from your shock and turned around, abruptly leaving the stadium. You called an Uber to take you back to the hotel, and the massive traffic gave you a lot of time to process what had just happened. 

You could understand him being upset over the game, especially since it was so fresh in his mind. But it’s not like you went up to him; he came up to you. This man was supposed to be your best friend, and he basically just called you a whore to your face. This shit was ridiculous. 

30 minutes later, you were walking into the hotel. Ja’Marr had tried calling, but you declined. You called the airline you were flying with to see if there was any chance of flying out early, and you were lucky to snag a seat on the last flight out. You quickly packed up your stuff after changing into a comfier outfit and headed down to the lobby to check out and call a car. 

Turning to head out the door you stopped as you saw Joe walking in, his eyes trained on you. He looked miserable and he made his way towards you slowly. 

“Y/n..” he started, his eyes filling up with tears, but you stopped him from saying anything else. 

“I’m leaving,” you said emotionlessly. He tried to reach out to you, but you flinched back and pain flashed across his face. 

“I need to talk to you y/n,” he begged. “Please don’t leave.” 

“Why would I stay?” You asked softly. “Goodbye, Joe.” 

You left him standing there wondering why it felt like your own heart was breaking into two. 

—-----------------------------------------------

It had been two weeks since then, and you had successfully avoided Joe at all costs. He blew up your phone of course but you have yet to answer. Luckily he hadn’t tried coming to your apartment because he knew you well enough to know that it’d piss you off. 

You were on your way to hang out with Ja’Marr for a group movie night which he promised you that Joe would not be at. You don’t know why you even believed him; Joe’s car was parked in the front driveway and you almost reversed until you saw Ja’Marr waving his arms at you. Stepping out, you crossed your arms, waiting for him. 

“I knew you wouldn’t come if you knew he was here,” he started and you scoffed. 

“You were right.”

“I am miserable because he is y/n,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry but I will be selfish for a minute. He is being a dick at practice to everyone and isn’t throwing me good balls. He’s moody, won’t say a word to me, and won’t leave his house unless necessary. So please let him make it up to you. You two belong together.”

“He called me a whore Ja’Marr!” You exclaimed frustrated and gave you a sympathetic look. 

“I know he did, and that was terrible. I tried to fight him on your behalf,” he said, earning a small smile from you. “God I shouldn’t tell you this but he’s so in love with you it’s insane. He’s hurting and you’re hurting. Please just talk to him.”

“He’s not in love with me,” you said and he just rolled his eyes. 

“Believe what you want but get in there,” he said steering you towards the door. 

The good thing was that there were a few other people here from your friend group, so technically, you didn’t even have to talk to him. He was the first person you saw when you walked in so clearly, this was a coordinated effort between the two friends. 

Joe did look sad, and you wanted to be happy about it, but you couldn’t find it in yourself. He was dressed down in grey sweats and a black T-shirt, his hair looking like he had run his hands through it over and over. His eyes were puffy, and that made your heart clench. 

“Are we ready to start?” One of your other friends called from the living room and you started to walk towards the room but Joe gently grabbed you, pulling you closer to him and letting Ja’Marr pass. 

“Can we talk?” He mumbled quietly to you and you nodded, letting him pull you into the study. You stood with your arms crossed as you looked at him, waiting. 

“I’m sorry y/n. I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I was hurting so bad and I took it out on you. The one person who has always been there for me.” 

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it Joe,” you said, frustrated. “It’s not like it was just the comment; it was the week leading up to it, missing the event. I can’t be there for you when you don’t let me in.”

You had imagined how this conversation would go multiple times over the past few weeks. You expected an apology and another apology, but you did not expect Joe Burrow to start sobbing in front of you. 

He sunk against the wall and had his head in his hands while he was crying. Your shock wore off, and you knelt down in front of him, moving in between his legs. He looked up and your heart broke at his tear-stained face. 

“What is going on, Joe?” You asked softly, wiping some of his tears with your thumb. 

“I just don’t know what to do,” he whispered. “Everything is going wrong, and I don’t feel like I’m in control. I do everything I can, and it’s still not enough.” 

“Oh Joey,” you murmured, pulling his head into your shoulders. He held on to you tightly as he cried and you ran your hand through his hair gently. 

“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I’m sorry I hurt you; I hated myself the second I said it.” 

“I forgive you Joe,” you told him, looking into his teary eyes. 

“I don’t deserve you; I’m not good enough for you,” he said. “I want to be enough for you.”

You cupped his face gently, making him look at you. Your own eyes started to water at the vulnerability he was showing.

"Joe, you’ve always been enough for me," you whispered. "You don’t have to prove anything. Not to me, not to anyone. I’m here for you, not for what you do or don’t achieve."

His brows furrowed, and he shook his head slightly, his hands moving to hold yours. "You don’t understand, y/n. I don’t just want to be your best friend—I want to be everything to you. And I’ve been so afraid of ruining our relationship that I pushed you away instead."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Joe..."

"I love you," he said, his voice breaking, but his gaze held steady. "I’ve been in love with you for so long, and I didn’t know how to tell you. But pushing you away hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt on the field. I can’t lose you."

For a moment, the weight of his words left you speechless. You searched his face, finding nothing but raw sincerity. Your heart ached, but in the best way, as if it were piecing itself together after being fractured.

"I love you too, Joe," you admitted to him and yourself, a soft smile breaking through the tears on your face. "But you have to let me in. No more shutting me out, no matter how hard things get. We figure it out together, okay?"

His hands tightened around yours, and he nodded, relief washing over his features. "Together. I promise."

You leaned forward, gently kissing his forehead before resting your own against it. The two of you walked out of the study and into the living room, where everyone else was already engrossed in the movie. Ja’Marr looked between the two of you and at your connected hands and gave you a wide smirk. Joe moved to the big armchair and pulled you down with him, and you snuggled into his lap. His arms wrapped around you, and you finally felt content. 

[sweetkpopmusings]

mingyu best friend headcanons <3

a/n: posting his bestie headcanons next as requested !! mingyu is my babygirl and whenever i think about him i just want to gently hold him and give him a lil kiss on the forehead <3 he is absolutely the best of friends to the people he loves :,-) what a precious boy ! pics not mine~

content: fluff | wc: 0.8k | warnings: none! | pairing: bestfriend!mingyu x gn!reader | requests: open

mingyu’s the kind of friend you can’t remember your life without

not only because he has become so embedded into your support system, but also because you immediately went from not knowing each other to being the best of friends

your first impression was “how does this man look like a greek god” and, after having a brief conversation with him, you realized “this is my golden retriever and i will protect him at all costs”

mingyu is the silliest, most precious, dorkiest, loving guy

obviously you can’t be around him without him breaking something and/or endangering his life

so you watch out for when he drops things, runs into things, trips over himself, etc

for his birthday, you bought him a first aid kit that you decorated so it matched his style

it’s 100% his favorite thing in the world, so naturally, he has to have someone else carry it for him whenever he leaves his place so it doesn’t get lost <3333 

he refuses to use supplies from any other first aid kit because “it would be disrespectful to y/n” :,-)

somehow, when it comes to you being clumsy, he's got cat-like reflexes ???

if you stumble a little bit, his hand automatically balances you before you realize you could've fallen

whenever your phone slips out of your hand, he catches it and then laughs at you for having butterfingers 

if seventeen sees this happen they will be completely dumbfounded because how is MINGYU not the klutz in this situation

you assure them he is still the clumsiest person alive and recount, in detail, how he bumped his head on a wall while laughing, dropped his phone while holding his head, and spilled his drink while reaching for his phone...all within 45 seconds

cut to the members crying from laughter and mingyu whining because “y/n is exaggerating!!!!!!!” 

like this is just a classic situation of mingyu trying to roast you but ending up roasting himself lmao

laughing with mingyu is the best thing in the entire world !!!

sometimes you two just make eye contact and he starts giggling which makes you laugh which makes him laugh harder which turns into both of you silently cracking up with tears streaming down your faces

and the rest of the people hanging out with you are like ???? neither of you said a single word ??? nothing funny happened ??? are you two okay ???

the answer to that is no we’re clearly losing our minds but also yeah we’re totally fine LOL

he loves to annoy you

very big fan of the whole “i’m not touching you” bit while pointing his finger alarmingly close to you

if you try to ignore him, he’s going to do everything in his power to get you to notice him

he’s sighing, clearing his throat, calling your name, exclaiming “OH MY GOD WHAT WAS THAT?!” just to get you to turn your head

every time, it ends one of two ways

you turn your head and he smiles victoriously, no longer annoying you because he got your attention and can now talk your ear off about whatever silly thought was in his head

OR

you ignore him for so long his finger/arm starts cramping and he whines about being in pain and won’t stop whining until you acknowledge his pain 

even if you just say “gyu, put your arm down so the cramping stops”

he’s over! the! moon! because “awwwwwww so you DO care about me???” 

mingyu’s such a big baby but he's YOUR big baby i love him so much 

despite his puppy-like nature, he is also your #1 protector

if anyone hurts your feelings, he is on attack dog mode as soon as all of your tears have been wiped <33

he will NOT let ANYONE make fun of you. like you’re HIS bestie and only HE can do that >:-(

one time hoshi took an impression of you a little too far and BOY did mingyu give him an earful

poor hoshi was apologizing to you for WEEKS after

mingyu would’ve had hoshi doing your laundry for months as reparations but you promised him it actually wasn’t even that bad like you just didn’t like how hoshi imitated your voice but according to mingyu “it’s the principle of it all >:-(“

he will do anything and everything in his power to reduce your stress and take care of you when you’re feeling less than your best <333

low on energy? mingyu’s coming over to clean your place for you!

have a massive to-do list before you go on a trip? mingyu has divided the tasks between you two so you can finish everything in enough time to get some rest before you leave!

truly he’ll put everything aside to make sure you’re okay :-(((

overall, mingyu is the most dependable, heartfelt, and hilarious best friend to have :,,,,-) 

if you tell him this, it will feed his ego and he will bring it up constantly LOL 

don’t worry though–he tells you all the time how you are a rock for him and that he loves you so so much and that his life has become a million, billion, trillion times better since you entered it <3

he’s just so endearing please give me a mingyu to protect and be protected by PLEASE!!!

[sweetieviktor]

"it's the tradition", feat. viktor.

summary: it's christmas in runeterra and couples are sharing kisses under the mistletoe.

word count: 1.000. (yes! exactly 1k im happy with it :]

content warning: just fluff as always! :DD (written with s1 viktor in mind!!!

author notes: ITS 5AM AND IVE WRITTEN 2 FICS IN A DAY, maybe im going to die but fuck it we ball. love viktor and love xmas, i wish i could use sweaters but in brazil december is sooo hot but yeah, here it is a lil something for the holidays. hope u like it!! :)))

whenever some holiday approaches, piltover academy is adorned in it's colour by students. it's december and the halls are decorated with reds and greens all the way, bringing joy to those who look up and see the fairy lights blinking slowly to them. christmas is coming, and so is winter.

everyone is using their thickest coats, but there's still some people who are cold, even if they are holding hot drinks to warm up both their hands and their body, or if they are rubbing their arms, creating some friction that could maybe help it, or sharing kisses under the mistletoe meticulously placed on the tree near the entrance of the academy, which have all kind of things hanging on it. some letters addressed to santa, little brilliant baubles made in all type of materials you could think of, red bows and colorful lights, all made by it's students.

you wanted to spend your day like this, enjoying over your partner's warmth under the mistletoe. well, life isn't fair. he was already working and you needed to work too, but maybe you could bring him some sweet milk and cookies on your lunch break, right?

so once the clock hitted midday, you walked to the cafeteria, the same one you and viktor got out on your first date, and ordered enough cookies for both of you. the women on the other side of the counter packed them to you, putting the little bag on your right hand, while you carried the cup of sweet milk on the other. finally, you got out, hands full, hoping that you could bring him some of the christmas spirit when leaving those in the lab.

when you made it to the academy again, it was even more crowded than earlier, students going in and out, chatting and joking around, throwing snowballs at each other and playing in the snow. and again, the couples kissing under the mistletoe. and all you could think of was him. oh, how you missed his kisses. so you hurried up, the flashy holiday themed colors in the halls blending together in an indistinguishable blur.

once you reached his lab, you knocked on the door, anxiously waiting for an answer. you could feel how your heart thumped against your ribs, maybe it's the nervousness or just because you runned all the way to come here in time. “come in,” was all you could hear from inside.

you turned the door knob, pushing it so you could enter the lab. he was hunched over his desk, but once he looked past his shoulder, realizing you were the one who got in, his golden eyes immediately lighted up, just like the fairy lights, but shined even brighter when he seemed the baked goods you carried, then turning again to his work, “just wait a bit, i will finish this, ehh- hopefully soon.”

you came from behind him, leaving both the bag and the cup over his desk, “i know these are your favorites,” you put your hand on his shoulder, “and it's my break now, but soon i need to get back to work,” his hand stopped, no longer making calculations. he looked up at you, then at the papers in front of him, thinking if he should or not give in.

sighing, he let the pencil over the papers. you knew he would keep working if you didn't say it. “i guess i could give myself a break, then,” the corners of his mouth quirking up while he reached for the bag, opening it and letting the smell of the cookies bathe the place, bringing coziness alongside it. he shoved his hand on the bag, picking one up and biting onto it, humming softly when it melted on his tongue, then bringing the almost half cookie to your lips, only to put away and eat it himself.

he was laughing loudly, keeping a hand over his mouth, to prevent any crumbs from coming out. “you ain't fair,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. you knew he was just joking, but you wanted to eat too, “i brought those so we both could eat. together!”

“i know, i know!”, he said, getting the cup of sweet milk and taking a sip of it, “but it's fun to tease you. can't help it,” he shrugged, looking at your pouty expression turning into one of anger. picking another cookie, he proceeded to feed you first, your frown immediately disappearing. he was trying to not laugh again, but he couldn't contain it, as he did so, soon the frown came back to your face.

“stop making fun of me and let me eat, for jannas's sake,” you also couldn't keep your smile from growing, it was such a good atmosphere that, even if you were mad at him for stealing your cookie and laughing at you, you couldn't be mad for longer than thirty seconds.

you were laughing with him, happy with how your lunch was going, eating and talking, so busy with everything that you didn't see him fidgeting, looking for something inside his jacket pocket. once there was no more food nor milk, he cleaned his hands, bringing one over you both, holding something up. a mistletoe.

you scoffed, running your hand over your face, “really, viktor?”, you were astonished, he truly got one of those just he could have an excuse to kiss you?

“well, it's the tradition, isn't it?”, he grinned, placing his free hand on your waist, bringing you closer, “any person who's under the mistletoe must kiss, it's correct?”

“yes, absolutely correct,” you put both hands on each side of his face, kissing his lips softly, tasting the sugar on his mouth. “but you taste like milk and cookies,” you kissed him again, just to make sure you got it right, “maybe next year i will bring you more of these, so we could kiss under the mistletoe again.”

“oh, christmas may be my favorite holiday now.”

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART FOUR

previous chapters | kofi | ok babes, lemme preface this chapter by saying i'm not exactly sure how i feel about it. i wanted it to be longer and i wanted more things to happen but this week has simply been a clusterfuck for me and i wanted to at least get something out to you guys cause you deserve it. i hope yall like sexting and phone sex cause that's all this part really consists of, so if that's not your thing i'm sorry and i hope the next part will be more enjoyable for you. thanks for bearing with me 💕 chapter summary: joel is busy with work but that doesn't mean there aren't other things you can do without being in the same room. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (reader is in her 20s, joel in his 50s), innocent/inexperienced reader, corruption, praise kink (joel calls reader babygirl, sweetheart, etc), dirty talk, mentions of religion (reader’s family are very catholic), sexting, phone sex, mutual masturbation word count: 4.2k ao3

Now that you have Joel's phone number, it's ridiculously difficult not to text him constantly, especially considering he hasn't reached out since his first initial response. You'd replied to his first message with a heart emoji, something you'd almost immediately regretted but have had to come to peace with. You manage to keep yourself busy for most of the day, reminding yourself that he's at work and probably doesn't have time to be texting some shy and inexperienced college girl. It's not like you're in a relationship or anything; you've known the man for three days.

"Three days," you whisper to yourself, settled in your favorite spot in the backyard, near the pool. Three days and he already has his claim on you, the ghost of his touch still peppered all over your skin. You'd put on a bathing suit in case you decided to go for a swim, but also because you wanted an excuse to look at your body again, look at where his hands had been.

It's been so rare for you to ever look at yourself the way you do now, the way Joel has taught you to. You were almost ashamed of having a body to begin with, embarrassed by your legs, your breasts, and especially what lay inside your underwear. You'd been raised to view them all as taboo, despite them all literally being a part of you. The swimsuit you wear now isn't necessarily the sexiest thing, just a black one-piece you'd bought at the beginning of the summer with modesty in mind, but you find yourself feeling different in it, more confident. Mr. Miller likes this body. I like this body.

Your phone buzzes near your head and you scramble to reach for it, pushing your sunglasses down your nose and peering down at the screen. Disappointment floods you when you see it's just from your mom, but your eyebrows raise in curiosity when you read the contents of the message:

Will be home after your father. Don't tell him about Mr. Miller.

Your mother? Asking you to keep a secret? It's probably one of the most uncharacteristic things she's ever done; you have to read the message a second time to make sure you're understanding correctly. Why doesn't she want your dad to know? He was the one who'd attempted to defend Joel in the first place, wasn't he?

Almost like she knows you're going to question her logic, another messages comes in a few seconds later:

I will tell him on my own.

Interesting.

You swipe back to your "conversation" with Joel and feel your heart flutter at his one-word reply. God, you really are insatiable. You wonder what he's doing right now; lifting heavy things? Ordering people around? You certainly know that he's good at telling people what to do...

Your skin warms at the thought and you quickly shake it away, tossing your phone back into the grass and taking a few steps toward the pool. You plunge into the cold water just to soothe the hot ache you already feel between your legs.

--

Dinner is normal, although the secret hanging in the air between you and your mother isn't lost on you by any means. You definitely didn't get your ability at keeping secrets from her; she's flustered, quiet as she chews her meatloaf and awkwardly questions your father about his day. He doesn't notice anything is amiss though, just scarfs down his food and mutters something about paperwork before disappearing into his office.

"Why don't you want me to tell Dad?" you whisper as you help her do the dishes, watching as she scrubs a plate unnecessarily hard.

"Because," she hisses, eyes darting to his closed office door in the hallway, "Your father will want to ask him over for dinner again and I am not having a repeat of what happened last time." She makes a face at the thought of Joel's previous insult, "If we're going to help this man find his faith we have to take things slow, just like you said. I'll tell your father when the time is right."

You're at a loss for words at the way your lie has somehow already wormed itself into your mother's brain without a shadow of a doubt. She's genuinely convinced you're trying to do the right thing, turn Joel Miller into a God fearing Catholic. It makes you uncomfortable to think about how your lie has already gotten this deep; for a moment you briefly consider calling the whole thing off, changing the story, maybe even telling the truth.

And then your phone buzzes in your pocket.

"Whatever you say," you reply quickly, drying the last plate and backing away, "Um, I'm gonna go read in my room for a bit."

--

How was your day?

The text makes your heart positively soar as you flop onto your bed again like you had this morning, bringing your phone to your face and grinning like an idiot. He didn't forget about you.

boring. i missed you.

You don't care if you come across as clingy; it's how you feel. Your heart does stutter a bit when you hit send but all nervousness fades when he responds just as quickly:

Missed you too, angel.

You swallow around the sudden lump in your throat, heart pounding when his little speech bubble appears again to show that he's typing something else:

What did you do?

went swimming

What an image to put in my head.

You smile, feeling your cheeks warm. Your face falls however at his next message:

What did you wear?

You grimace, eyeing the ridiculously modest swimsuit hanging off your desk chair, still damp from earlier. Should you be honest or come up with a white lie, put a different image in his head? No, you've already lied enough for one day.

a one piece but i don't like it. it's not very me.

I'll buy you a new one. Tell me what you like.

He'd really do that? You bite your lip and weigh the options in your mind, thinking about the lingerie on those mannequins this morning, the things your roommates back at college wear. You want something you'll feel different in, something that makes you feel more like this sexy version of yourself Joel is helping you discover.

bikini. maybe pink or blue?

You got it. Maybe you can give me another fashion show.

You feel a surge of excitement, of intrigue. You'd wondered at the mall what kind of clothes Joel would want to see you in... he'd loved the dresses this morning - especially the white one - so you can't help but wonder what kind of swimsuit he'll choose for you. You're not completely sheltered; you know there are different types of bikinis. One of your friends had worn a micro sling bikini for Halloween last year as a part of her costume for a party she was attending - you'd taken one look and decided you weren't going.

Would Joel pick a bikini like that for you? The thought makes you feel a bit queasy, suddenly unsure if you'd even want to wear something like that. You want to look good for him but you don't want to sacrifice everything about yourself to do it. You stare at his message, wishing he wasn't just words on a screen right now.

where are you?

At a bar with my crew. But I'd much rather be wherever you are right now, babygirl.

You relax a bit into your sheets at the pet name; the word hasn't even come directly from his mouth but it has you acting like it has. Your body goes loose, that familiar throbbing starting up again in your underwear. You cross your legs and duck underneath the covers to type your reply:

i'm in my bed. i wish you were here

And what do you wish I was doing?

You stare at the text for a moment, biting down hard on your lip and trying to think of exactly how to articulate your thoughts in the best way. You've never done this before, never said or typed dirty things to somebody else. You figure texting is as good a medium as any to finally practice.

i wish you were playing with my pussy

The throbbing gets worse as you type the words. You cross your legs a bit tighter when you hit send, already nervous about what he'll say back. He doesn't waste much time.

You like when I play with your pussy, don't you?

Your cheeks warm as you sink even further beneath your blankets, legs parting slowly. You reach down to pop the button on your jeans, slowly typing out a response with one hand:

yes

The zipper of your jeans is down within seconds, your right hand carefully slipping past the open material and sliding down to cup where you're aching over your underwear. Your phone vibrates again and you hear a small whimper slip past your lips.

And you liked having those big fingers deep in there huh?

yes. it felt so good.

So full, right baby?

You circle your clit slowly with your index finger, mouth popping open at his words. The memory of the way his fingers felt inside of you, the way they'd pushed and prodded you so deep...

really full.

I'll do it again real soon, angel. Promise.

You whimper again, still tracing your pussy through your panties. Your brow furrows when the next message comes in a few seconds later:

I gotta head back now but I'll call you later. Stay up for me, don't fall asleep.

You frown. Oh well, you've gotten off without him a few times so far, what's one more time? You watch as the bubble indicating he's typing again pops up.

And don't touch that pretty pussy until I tell you.

Your hand freezes and you feel your lips turn into a pout despite the fact that he can't even see you.

:(

XO

"Meanie." you murmur at your phone, taking your hand out of your pants and tilting your head back to stare at your ceiling. You look down at the message again and can't help but feel your lips upturn; he's going to call you later... maybe meanie is too strong a word.

--

You prepare a little too much for your late-night phone call with Joel.

You take a long bath, soothing and relaxing with some lit candles and quiet music, all the while returning to your previous mental state of pretending you don't have anything between your legs. You're just a barbie doll down there, you tell yourself dubiously, there's nothing to touch or feel. That wishful thinking doesn't last very long however when you find yourself re-reading Joel's texts and feeling your pussy begin to pulse again under the water.

After your bath you comb carefully through your hair, counting each stroke to pass the time. You apply more lotion to your skin than you could ever need and then change into a pair of pajamas, just some simple sleep shorts and a t-shirt. You wonder what Joel would think of your old nightdresses, the ones you used to wear when you were a kid, still folded away in your dresser but probably much shorter and more revealing now. You take a quick peek at an old yellow one, lacy and faded; it practically smells of innocence and the bright eyed Jesus loving girl you once were, and you find yourself feeling sad. You shut it away again.

By the time you're freshly bathed and in bed your parents have already said goodnight and are settled in their bedroom down the hall. All you can do is lay back against your pillows and wait for Joel to call.

Nine o'clock passes; you decide to read for a little bit.

Ten o'clock; no big deal, you turn on the TV and quietly watch the beginning of a movie.

Eleven o'clock; you're about halfway into the movie now, feeling sleepy but still checking your phone every few minutes.

Twelve o'clock; the movie ends but you don't pay much attention to the conclusion, staring anxiously at your phone and waiting for it to light up. But still nothing.

It's almost one when you finally begin to face the reality of the situation. He never gave you a specific time, just said he'd call later, but how much later did he mean? Maybe he's already home now, in bed and asleep. He's probably forgotten that he even said he'd call. You're not that important. You're just some kid.

Tears well in your eyes when you finally turn off your bedside lamp and shuffle further beneath the covers, still staring at your phone. Please call, you think pathetically to yourself, or even text. Just do something.

You fall asleep with your phone gripped tightly in your hand.

--

You wake up to a light buzzing sound and sensation, your eyes squeezing together in confusion. You open them blearily and find yourself facing your bedside clock; 2:23am. It takes a few seconds for you to register that the buzzing is coming from your phone, and when you look down at the screen and see the name Mr. Miller, your eyes go wide. You answer it immediately.

"Hello?" you whisper, burying yourself under the covers again and trying to be as quiet as possible.

"Hey, babygirl," he says softly on the other side, his southern drawl melting smoothly into your ear, "I wake you up?"

"Y-yeah," you mumble, still blinking your eyes and trying to get some alertness back, "Sorry, I know you told me not to fall asleep."

He chuckles and it's the most beautiful sound, charming and gentle, "That's okay, sweetheart. I got back much later than I thought I would, it's my fault," you hear him grunt a little bit, like he's settling onto his couch (or his bed?), "You stay up long waitin' for me?"

You bite your lip, "Um, maybe."

"Aw, baby, I'm sorry," he murmurs, "Poor thing, you must be so sleepy."

"M'not," you say, but your voice betrays you.

"Shh," he whispers, "You go back to sleep, we'll try this again tomorrow."

You try to sit up but you're still half asleep and the blankets are so warm and inviting, "No," you say quickly, "No, I wanna talk to you. I've been waiting."

You can hear the smile in his voice when he replies, "God, you're so fuckin' sweet," he inhales deeply, "What I wouldn't give to have you in my bed right now, angel... all curled up and comfy in my arms."

You smile, eyes closing again as you settle back into the blankets and listen to his voice, "I want that." you murmur.

"I know you do," his voice is so soft and soothing in your ear, almost like a lullaby, "You want so many things with me, don't you?"

"Mm hm," you agree softly, "All of it."

"All of it." he repeats thoughtfully.

The line goes quiet for a moment, both of you just listening to each other breathe evenly. You know you should say something else, try and wake yourself up, but the longer you lie there with the phone to your ear the more tired you seem to be getting.

"Did you touch your pussy, babygirl?" he finally asks, voice still barely a whisper.

Your heart stutters, "No," you reply just as quietly.

"Good girl."

You hum at his praise, melting further into your pillow. You listen as he breathes slowly on the other end. You're starting to drift off again, you can feel it.

"I've got an early start tomorrow," he says softly, "But how 'bout I call you around seven or so, before I leave?"

"Yes," you whisper, "Please."

He laughs quietly, "Okay, sweetheart, you go back to sleep now," he exhales and seems to settle into his bed, just like you, "Sweet dreams."

"'Night," you mumble softly, leaving him to end the call as you fade quickly back to sleep.

--

You don't make the same mistake you made last night; you wake up promptly at six thirty and make sure you stay awake, washing your face and getting dressed for the day. You hear the shower going in your parents room and hope that miraculously both of them will have already left by the time Joel calls you.

No such luck. You can hear them both bustling around in the kitchen when your phone starts to buzz, and you quietly tiptoe back to bed and yank the covers up over yourself, hoping it'll muffle your conversation.

"Hi," you whisper.

"Mornin'", Joel replies; you can hear a smile in his voice, "Why are you whisperin'?"

You grimace, "My parents are still here."

"Ahh, the same parents who think I'm your guitar teacher, right?"

You bring a hand up to your face in embarrassment, "Oh my god, I forgot I told you that."

He chuckles, "So we're sneakin' around, huh? That what's happenin'? Is this gonna end with me gettin' shot?"

Your eyes widen, "I hope not!"

He laughs again, louder this time, "I'm kiddin', babygirl, don't worry. But you're an adult, you don't need their permission to see me."

"I know that, but as long as I'm under their roof they have rules, and I gotta follow them. Plus..." you make a face, "My mom doesn't like you."

He snorts, "Yeah, I figured."

"I kind of told her that um... that I'm... well..."

"What?"

"That I'm teaching you about God," you close your eyes, feeling your skin burn, "That you borrowed my hymn book and you're gonna help me learn how to play some of them."

There's complete silence on the line after you speak and for a moment you're scared he's hung up. You pull the phone away from your ear and look down at the screen; the call is still active. You bring it back up and he finally says something.

"Jesus, you're naughty," he mutters, voice suddenly dark, rough, "Lyin' about all that, just to see me?"

You swallow, "Y-yeah."

"Naughty," he repeats, "Naughty girl."

Another beat of silence. Then-

"Are you in bed?"

"Yes."

"Take off your panties."

You don't need telling twice, you're already throbbing just from hearing his voice change. You hold your phone against your ear with your shoulder and make quick work of hiking up your dress and tugging your panties down your legs.

"They're off," you whisper, voice shaky.

"Rub your clit," he says immediately, and you hear the unmistakable sound of his belt jangling on the other end, "'Til your pussy's all wet."

Is he...? He must be. You swallow tightly and do as he says, trying to focus on the task at hand and not on the fact that he's most certainly touching his cock right now while he talks to you. Getting wet isn't much of a challenge; as soon as your finger touches your clit you can already feel yourself start to drip.

"I'm wet." you whimper, rubbing your clit slowly.

"Already?" his voice is almost pained.

"Is it...is it weird that I get wet so easily?"

"No," he says immediately and you can almost visualize him shaking his head, "No, it's good. It's just 'cause you're so new to all of it," he groans, low and husky, "Fuck, I can't get enough of you."

You whimper again at his words, rubbing yourself a bit quicker and biting down on your lip. You can still hear the dull sounds of your parents from the kitchen below; you have to be quiet.

"Put a finger inside," Joel murmurs on the other end of the line, rough and scratchy, "Deep as you can go."

You bite down on your lip harder as you carefully push your index finger inside yourself, brow furrowing at the sensation. It's certainly nothing like having Joel's fingers in there and you immediately want to add another one, get that full feeling back.

"Push it in and out," he continues, "With me now, in..." you hear a dull slap, "And out," you follow along, eyes becoming hooded as you listen to what is most certainly Joel jacking himself off, "In....and out..."

He's pretending he's inside you. The thought alone is enough to make you moan, and you have to bring your other hand up to cover your mouth as you fuck yourself along to his pace. You add a second without being asked, whimpering pitifully into the phone and spreading your legs wider.

"Oh, babygirl," he whispers, "Those sounds you make..." he groans, low and deep, "Two fingers now, sweetheart."

"I'm already using two," you admit, still pumping them in and out; he groans again, even louder.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, "Three then, baby. Add your third, that's it." You hear another slap of skin and the sound is enough to make your orgasm begin to build in your belly. You wish he was here with you, holding you, touching you.

"I wish you were inside me," you find yourself whispering, voice shaky and pathetic.

He groans again, "Which part of me, sweetheart? My fingers?"

You shake your head, "No."

"Say it."

"Your cock," you whimper, chest heaving as you feel yourself getting closer and closer, "I want your cock inside me."

"Fuck," his voice is even deeper in your ear, almost like he's right there next to you, "I know you do, angel. Want it so fucking deep, don't you?"

You nod ferociously despite the fact that he can't see you, plunging your three fingers in and out steadily and feeling your legs begin to shake, "Yes, Mr. Miller," you whimper, "I need it."

"You do need it," he groans, "You need this cock, babygirl. Can't believe you never had one before, can't stop thinkin' about it," the slapping is getting faster, louder.

"I wanted it so bad last night," you keen, eyebrows scrunching together in pleasure, "And when you didn't call, I thought maybe-"

"Oh, babygirl," he groans, "Don't think like that, don't ever-" he lets out a deep grunt, almost like a whimper, "Don't think for one second that I don't think about you, about that pussy. Can't wait to be inside you. Gonna fuck you so good, so right," he grunts, his voice becoming more and more strained, "Gonna be so deep inside that sweet little hole, you're gonna feel it in your fuckin' stomach."

Holy fuck. He's never talked this much before, never said things this filthy or graphic. It's too much for you to handle all at once, pussy tightening around your fingers as his words bring you over the edge.

"I'm coming," you manage to squeak out, then slap your hand back down on your mouth as you shake and writhe under the blankets, moaning pitifully into your hand and praying your parents don't hear you.

Joel doesn't tell you he's coming but the slapping sound suddenly comes to a complete stop, and the next thing you know he's groaning loudly in your ear, breathy and rough. You listen to him, closing your eyes and letting his sounds invade your whole body as you come, wrapping around you like another warm blanket. You've never heard him make sounds like this, depraved and guttural and loud. You can only imagine what he looks like right now, what his cock looks like. You know what happens when men come, you know about ejaculation, but the thought of Joel doing that... right now...

"Mmmhmmm," you moan into your hand and feel your eyes roll back, picturing Joel laying in his bed, hand around his cock, "Oh...fuck..." you fuck yourself with your fingers until it's too much, until the sensations are borderline painful. You move your hand away from your pussy and squeeze down on your thigh, trying to get your legs to stop shaking.

There's a few moments of heavy breathing where neither of you speak, both of you coming down from your orgasms and trying to catch your breaths. You open your legs wider and lay there like a starfish, eyes closed, chest heaving. You hear the door slam downstairs, followed by the sound of your father getting in his police car and your mother getting in her SUV.

"My parents just left." you mutter, still breathless.

Joel chuckles softly, "Think they heard you?"

You shake your head, "No way, they'd have already broken down my door if they had any idea what's going on up here."

He laughs again, "Hold on a sec, let me clean myself up here a bit."

You can't help but smile at the image of Joel being vulnerable like that, having to clean up his own mess instead of yours. You shiver at the thought and slowly sit up in bed, body heavy and sated.

"That was... a lot," you say softly, still trying to even out your breaths, "All that... that stuff you said."

You hear the concern in his voice immediately, "Was it too much?"

"No," you say immediately, shaking your head, "No, not at all. I just..." you feel your cheeks burn, "I wasn't expecting....I didn't realize how much you thought about doing that."

"Doin' what?" you can almost hear his smirk.

"...Fucking me," you whisper it, even though your parents are gone, "Putting your...putting your cock in me."

He groans again, softer this time, "I'll be honest, darlin'. It was all I thought about yesterday at work. And it's all I'm gonna be thinkin' about today."

You shiver, lips turning up in a pleased smile, "Really?"

"Really, sweetheart. And I know we're takin' it slow, and that's okay, but fuck if I don't think about how that pussy's gonna feel around me..." he groans again and you feel the undeniable sensation of yourself getting wet again; insatiable.

"What if...what if it doesn't fit?" you ask quietly, unsure just like yesterday, "I know you said we'll make it fit but..."

"It'll fit," he reassures you tenderly, "Don't worry, sweetheart. We'll go real slow, I'll be real gentle, and you just take it," he takes a breath, slow and steady, "You were made to take it, babygirl."

You hear yourself whimper softly, closing your eyes and turning your head into your pillow. God, you could listen to him talk to you like this for hours, just telling you everything he wants to do to you, everything he wants to teach you...

"When can I see you again?" you whisper.

"Well, that's what we need to figure out now, isn't it?" you can hear the hint of a smile in his voice, "When are these guitar lessons gonna take place?"

You wince, sitting up a bit in bed and leaning back against your pillows, "So you're okay with that? With me lying, I mean?"

"If that's what you feel you need to do, then it's okay," he says, and you can tell he means it, "I will probably have to actually teach you some guitar, though."

"I don't mind," you reply with a smile, remembering the way his hands had felt on yours when he'd first shown you those chords, the way you'd settled between his legs and he'd held you so close to him, "...As long as you teach me in your bed."

"Fuck," he murmurs, voice going dark again, "You are a naughty girl, aren't you?"

You can't help but smirk, "It's starting to seem that way, yeah."

[cillianhead]

Hey! I was wondering if you could write a little smutty/angsty something for Neil Lewis. Maybe bestfriend!reader, who recently got with some other man, and Neil is incredibly jealous and maybe... possessive. 👀 Some angst heated argument finished with a smut would be lovely. 🤭

Thank you!

Of course, of course!

Thank you for your request!

You're The Only One Who Makes Me Feel Alive || Neil Lewis x Reader

warnings: Smut, angst, best friends to lovers, swearing, slight (?) drug use (marijuana), jealousy, unprotected P in V, Neil is quite obsessed with reader's boobs (because c'mon, NEIL IS A BOOB MAN!!!) like sort of switch!neil but not quite, adult content!

18+ Minors DNI

It was a slow Friday night at Gumshoe Video. You had closed by now, though. You sat between Lucien and Jonathan, a bit stoned, and watched some horrible Horror-Parody film called 'Bad Taste'. You had zoned out, drowning out Jonathan and Lucien's incessant bickering about the film and whether it was good or bad.

"-It's Peter Jackson, for Christ's sake. It's a masterpiece of its time or whatever," Lucien argued. Jonathan just scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's supposed to be ridiculous!" Lucien protested.

"Are we watching the same movie?" Jonathan grunted with a hint of amusement. "How the hell did someone see this and think... 'yeah, that's the guy we're getting for Lord of the fucking Rings'!"

Lucien quipped back something particularly witty and sarcastic, but it all turned into one big blur of words to you. You were incredibly bored and stoned that none of what was happening on the TV screen made sense. You looked like a zombie, lips parted and an expression of awe on your face.

"Not this stupid movie," You heard the sound of Neil's voice from behind you. Quickly sitting up and turning to look at him, like an expectant dog when its owner comes home. "I've got the snacks if you guys even care." Lucien and Jonathan grumble their words of appreciation while you just sat and smiled at your best friend.

You all had smoked together, but you hadn't really prepared for the munchies that would come along with it. So you flipped a coin, and poor little Neil was the one who had to go to the nearest convenience store and buy as much junk food as he could carry. Two seafoam green plastic grocery bags were hanging off of Neil's sturdy forearms that said 'Recycle Me!' on them while he stood, smiling back at you.

"What'd you get Neily-poo?" You hummed, standing up and approaching him.

"I hate it when you call me that," Neil grumbled before handing you one of the bags. "I just got all the classic snacks... Cheetos, Twizzlers, Lucien's favorite white chocolate... and of course, I got your favorite..."

You squealed out of delight, lunging on Neil and wrapping your arms around him. "Did you really?" You said, pulling away with your arms still around his neck. Neil hummed while pulling the familiar mouth-watering box of Swedish Fish out of the grocery bag.

You properly pulled away now and snatched it out of his hand greedily. "Hey...! Wait... where's my thanks?" He tilted his head, tapping his pointer finger on the apple of his cheek. You rolled your eyes playfully before placing a grateful peck on his cheek.

You two sat on the spare couch together. You leaned against Neil, as you always do, your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around you. It had always been that way with you two, both very physically affectionate with each other. Though not when Neil was in a relationship, you knew how threatened his girlfriends felt by you, though you never understood why... Neil was always insistent on how you were just a friend, even going as far as to say you were like a sister to him.

When the movie ended and Neil had a bit more to smoke, you all sat around munching on your snacks, thinking of what to do next.

"Do you guys wanna come over to my place, and we can do this again tomorrow night?" Neil asked, scratching at his chin.

"Sure, I'd love that, dude," Jonathan nodded before popping a handful of peanut M&M's into his mouth. "Sounds great." He said with his mouth full.

"Gross!" You scolded, throwing a piece of popcorn at him. "Don't eat with your mouth full..."

"What did you just say?" Lucien laughed.

"I mean... don't talk with your mouth full!" You corrected, and everyone sat around giggling at that. "You knew what I meant!" Your cheeks heated up with embarrassment at your mistake.

"...and yeah, I'll come over tomorrow night." Lucien said to Neil. Neil gave him a thumbs up before turning his head over to you.

"How about you, Y/N?" Neil hummed, sighing as he leaned his head against the couch, cheek smushing a bit as he smiled softly down at you. He's so pretty, I just wanna kiss him, You thought."You wanna come over?" Yikes, you thought. You bit your lip and sucked in a breath. "Well... I... well... actually, I've got plans tomorrow, guys... I'm sorry." You shrugged apologetically.

"What?" Jonathan murmured, mouth still full, chewing obnoxiously loud.

"Since when do you have plans?" Lucien remarked. You gave him a dry smile.

"I'm going on a date... believe it or not," You snorted, looking down at your lap, embarrassed to admit. You never really talked about your love life with the guys, especially not Neil. Things always got awkward. Neil never discussed his with you either; you'd only briefly meet his girlfriends, and then that was it. You didn't understand why it had to be so awkward between you when discussing dating.

The room went silent at that. You looked towards Neil, his arm retracted away from you and tucked back into his side as you noticed the frown on his face. You could see the look on Jonathan and Lucien's faces, eyes flickering between the two of you, trying to gauge some sort of reaction.

"Oh..." Neil mumbled, sounding disappointed, popping a popcorn kernel into his mouth and chewing dryly. "Good for you... congratulations..."

"We're not getting married," You laughed uncomfortably. "Plus, I doubt it's gonna be anything that special... we're going to some downtown dive bar to have drinks and then probably go back to his place or something..." Neil had a visible expression of distaste, fiddling with his thumbs. You didn't get why he was so upset. "What's his name?" He said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Russell."

"Russell." He repeated coldly. Jonathan and Lucien were utterly silent. The tension was thick, and trying to waft through it felt suffocating.

"Why are you upset?" You blurted out. "Can't you at least be happy for me for once that I'm finally fucking going out with somebody?"

""Course I'm happy for you, Y/N, I just don't want you... to get hurt..." Neil muttered. "That's all."

"Right." You scoffed, scooting to the other side of the couch.

The tension was unbearable, and Jonathan shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Things always got weird when you brought up a guy you like or a guy you were seeing. You never got why. Why would Neil be upset that you were seeing somebody? How many girlfriends did you have to sit and watch him be with? How many painful breakups have you comforted him through? How many times had you encouraged him to go over and talk to a girl he thought was pretty? A countless amount of times, that's what. So the fact that the mood visibly shifted as soon as you said you were going on a date... it pissed you off. Neil was never encouraging when it came to putting yourself out there romantically. It was almost like he was jealous, but you knew he had no reason to be.

"How'd you meet?" Lucien cleared his throat, trying to lighten the air.

"Well when I was here alone the other day... he was in the shop-"

"He was in the shop?" Neil interrupted with a whine, eyebrows knitted together.

"Yeah, he was, so what?" You turned and looked at Neil, glaring at him.

"Can't believe you're going out with a customer," Neil muttered. "Thought you were better than that." "What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"It... no... nothing, just-" "God forbid I meet someone!" You were standing up now. Lucien and Jonathan had gotten up and wandered over to the other side of the shop, pretending they were browsing the shelves. "How many fucking bimbos have you asked out that had come in here, Neil?" "Y/N-" "I'm leaving." You barked, grabbing your things and rushing out, not before giving Lucien and Jonathan a gentle wave before slamming the door and walking home in the pouring rain.

The walk home was long and treacherous. Usually, Neil would drive you home. But you couldn't stand to be around him right now, not after his hypocritical words. When you got home, you collapsed in bed, still in your wet clothes, and cried your eyes out. Thunder cracked outside, and your windows rattled with the harsh wind. Your phone began to ring, the familiar ringtone you assigned to Neil's contact buzzing through your pocket. You just groaned.

"Go away, Neil." You grunted into your pillow, bickering to no one. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Curling up into a ball, the tears continued to fall. You hated the way you felt towards Neil; you hated that you wanted him to be more than just a friend. Your phone kept ringing, and it only made you cry harder.

You remembered freshman year of high school when you first met Neil; you instantly clicked and were in every class together. Everyone always thought you were dating, and you'd both share a round of 'Ew's and 'That's never gonna happen' and then silently look at each other thinking 'What if' (unbeknownst to each other). You always daydreamed about losing your virginity to Neil, the scrawny, awkward pimply boy who was the sweetest guy you'd ever met, though you ended up losing it to some guy called Lloyd over a dare. It wasn't very romantic, nor was it pleasurable. You just laid there and thought about Neil the whole time.

The sleep you got that night was terrible, but you tried to focus on the positives. You were going on a date! Yay! Not with Neil, though. You spent the day mostly picking out an outfit, mentally scolding yourself for not deciding on it sooner since most of your good clothes were dirty and you were feeling incredibly antsy. Your phone had been blowing up all day. Texts from Neil, Jonathan, and Lucien lit up your screen every other second. You didn't reply, you couldn't, you felt entirely too embarrassed.

Meanwhile, Lucien lounged on the couch at Neil's house, and Jonathan watched Neil pace back and forth in his kitchen while making handmade whipped cream. They were going to make a cake.

"I just don't know what to do, man," Neil huffed, stirring the bowl even more aggressively. Jonathan watched, unsure of how to comfort his friend. "What the fuck do I do? What if this guy is like... her soulmate or something cliche like that?"

"Okay," Jonathan laughed, putting his hand in the air. "Russell is not her soulmate." "How do you know? Have you met him?" Neil hissed back.

"No, but... how do we even know this 'Russell' guy even exists? What if she's just trying to make you jealous?"

"That's a good point!" Lucien quipped in from the other room.

"Thanks, Lucien," Jonathan rolls his eyes before looking back at Neil, who has set the bowl aside, melting to the floor with tears. "Look... dude, I think you should go over there and tell her how you feel... the worst she can say is no..."

"The worst she can say is no," Neil mocked, tears streaming down his face. "Yeah fuckin' right! She's gonna..." Neil sobbed, hiding his hands in his face. "I'll go over there, and she'll... never want to speak to me again... she wouldn't feel the same way... it's impossible!"

Jonathan looked exasperated. It was painfully apparent to everyone but you and Neil that you two were soft for each other. You usually spend every day together. The idea of losing you to some other guy was heartbreaking for Neil. Neil cried like a baby, and Jonathan watched, awkwardly leaning against the counter, unsure what to say.

"Just fucking do it, you fucking idiot!" Jonathan blurted out. "I know she likes you... do you really think Y/N would've stuck around this long with us losers if she didn't feel something for you?"

"I don't know, Jonathan..." Neil whimpers, looking up at Jonathan with the most pitiful eyes anyone has ever seen. He looked straight out of a painting.

"And even if she doesn't feel the same for you..." Jonathan continues, crouching down to be at his height on the floor. "You guys have known each other way too damn long to just throw away a good friendship over you liking her. Y/N's a smart girl. She'll learn to accept it if she doesn't feel the same way."

Neil just buried his face further into his knees, continuing to cry. "Gee, you'd think he just got his period or something." Lucien said unhelpfully.

"Shut up, Lucien!" Neil and Jonathan yelled in unison.

"Listen, I think you should just tell her... she ain't responding to any of my texts... and I don't know how it's gonna go with this Russell guy tonight, so I reckon you should head on over there..." Jonathan rambled. Neil still stayed in the same place, with his head in his hands. "Like right now!" Jonathan yelped, and Neil jumped at the sudden shift in volume and tone.

Neil approached your house as you sat in some dive bar, waiting for your date. His key twisted your locked door. Unbeknownst to him, the house was completely empty. And as he walked in, Russell was yet to arrive, over twenty minutes late to your date. At this point, you'd accepted that you had been stood up and patted yourself down, ensuring you had everything you brought.

"Y/N!" Russell's voice greets you, clearly out of breath. "I'm so sorry for being late... traffic was awful." Yeah, right, you thought. But you gave him a small smile and sat back in your booth. "That's alright," You pressed down your skirt that rested uncomfortably high on your thighs, trying to calm your nerves. The leather of the seats stuck to your thighs as Russell began making small talk. How boring. You found yourself zoning out as you downed the drink Russell had bought you just to try and cope with the terribly grim situation you were dealing with. Russell was some sort of accountant. Just the idea of finance lulled your brain into a state of boredom and borderline sleepiness. Russell's voice was monotone, and the way he licked his cracked lips every time he spoke made you feel queasy.

Meanwhile, Neil sat on your couch, spread out and feeling hopeless. No other person could ever compare to you, never ever, ever, ever. The thought of you meeting this guy he didn't know anything about except for his god-awful name and possibly hitting it off... maybe starting a life with him... the jealousy was sickening. Genuinely sickening.

It was festering within him, after all these years of watching men come into the store and flirt with you, the jealousy... the possessiveness... that another man talking to his Y/N... brought on was just too much for poor little Neil to handle. The jealousy was now fuelling the reason he still stayed. As soon as you walked through that door, with Russell or not, he'd get on his hands and knees... and beg you to love him... beg you to love him the way he loves you.

An hour went by... and then another, by now, it was nearing 10:30 PM, and Neil wasn't even sure if you were coming home. He then remembered your words of 'going back to his place afterwards' and felt like the biggest idiot in the whole world. He felt like he had lost you... like he was mourning you. His heart broke silently, and the heavyweight in his chest grew to be too intense, too blue to even cry. So he stood up and sighed, looking around your apartment before saying his goodbyes. I won't be over much now that she has a boyfriend, Neil thought. But as he turned around, about to walk out the door, there you stood with your key still in the lock looking at him like you'd look at an angel.

"Neil?" You asked softly as if it could possibly be anyone else.

"Y/N," He gasped, rushing to you, hands reaching out to you. "Please listen to what-" "Who's this?" Russell asks with a scoff, leaning on the doorway. Neil backed away like he had just entered a cock-fight he knew he couldn't win.

"Russell..." You shifted to look at him. "I think it's better if you just go... we can... we can see each other another time." "Yeah, alright," Russell shrugged, playing it cool but Neil saw the flicker of annoyance flash through the man's eyes. Russell turned back around and left, leaving the two of you alone.

"What are you doing here, Neil?" You chided, closing the door and deadbolting it behind you before walking over to the couch with Neil.

"I... I need to talk to you..." Neil whispered. You sat right beside each other, staring into each other's eyes. A feeling grew in your chest like you knew what he was about to say. "Y/N..."

"Neil..."

"I..." He faltered, his eyes looking down at his lap as he reached out, holding both your hands in his. Your heart did a spin at this, lips parted as you breathed heavily. What is happening? "I.... fuck... I don't know how to do this," Neil pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, clearly about to cry. "I've watched so many goddamn movies you'd think I... you'd think I'd have the right thing to say."

"Neil," You whispered, your voice coming out like a warning. "Just say it."

Neil looked up at you, speechless. The expression on his face was truly indescribable. Almost like a dramatic build-up, the room was silent, giving each other this look. This look you had never openly given to each other before.

"I don't want to kill my time with anybody else," Neil began, taking deep breaths. The sounds of cars passing by and trees swaying in the wind could be heard, along with the pounding of your heart. "You're the only one who makes me feel alive."

"Neil," You warned, looking away from him. "Why now?" You blurted out, quickly smacking your hand over your loose mouth.

"Wha...?" Neil asked, torn completely out of the moment by just those two words.

"Why are you telling me this now?" You questioned. Your hands ran down your face. "Why, Neil, Why?"

"What do you mean?" Neil shook his head, eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?!"

You were standing up now, you couldn't be close to him, you felt too dizzy. "After all these years... why are you only telling me this now?"

"I-I... I..." Neil stammered, utterly speechless this time. He wasn't expecting this reaction, he couldn't quite place what you were feeling. "I was afraid, Y/N."

"Of what?" You raised your voice and he flinched and suddenly the guilt hit you like a freight train. Tears fell down your face, ruining your makeup.

"Of losing you! Losing the only person in my life who actually matters!" Neil stood up as well, approaching you. Like a game of cat and mouse, you stepped away while he kept trying to round the coffee table to get to you. "I need you, Y/N. I need you to know how badly," He pleaded with you, but you couldn't find a way to let him further into your heart. He'd hit bone if he went any further into it.

"Neil, I don't know anymore! You're so confusing!" You screeched as he bumped into you, knocking you down onto the couch and he knelt in front of you, pleading eyes staring up at you. "I don't know what you want from me!" You cried.

"I want everything," He whispered, hands placed on both of your thighs. "I want to be yours... I want you to be mine. How do I make this any clearer?"

"I don't... I don't have you," You felt like you were being torn apart. "You don't want me. You just... you're just confused! You don't want me! You want..." You closed your eyes, thinking about the women Neil had dated. You felt like he wouldn't be satisfied with you... you felt like you weren't pretty enough or you were too boring or too familiar. "I don't have you... Neil... and I never will."

"You've always had me. Every second of every day... you've had me. I'm yours." Neil whispered, hands squeezing your thighs. "Please. I need to know."

"Need to know what?" "That you'll take me," His fingers travelled further up your goosebump-covered skin. "That you'll let me in, Y/N."

"How?" Your hands shook as you looked him in the eye again. This time... it felt like you were looking at a completely different man. It was no longer just your best friend you were looking at... but the man pleading with you to love him as if you hadn't been silently loving him from afar... all these years.

"Please let me show you."

Neil used his hands to balanced himself as he slowly and intimately leaned in, lips brushing yours every-so slightly. "Neil..." You whispered.

"Shh...." He hushed.

And your lips joined together. It felt like your body had let him in, like he was rewriting your DNA and letting every part of him consume you. He sat beside you now, cradling you in his arms as you kissed slowly. This was all so new to you, unlike any other kiss you had ever experienced. Every other kiss before this just felt like you were trying to negotiate something... but this... this kiss felt like your body had found its missing limb like it had found what it had been lacking all these years.

A string of spit connects the two of you as Neil softly pulls away, panting for breath. "Am I in yet?" He chuckled.

You tilted your head, squinting and stroking your chin, pretending you were struggling to decide. "Maybe... I don't know yet... think you'll have to try harder..." Your voice was still a bit shaky from crying. "Alright," He snorts before diving back in and kissing you rougher this time but still in that romantic, slow way. One hand placed on your hip and the other guiding the back of your head as you made out. Tongues pawing at each other like they were getting acquainted.

"Please touch me," Neil whimpered into your lips, and oh fuck, that was the most divine noise you had ever heard. "Please." "Only 'cause you asked so nicely..." You hummed, pushing him down and straddling him. You watched as he threw his head back, biting his lip and holding back the noises he so desperately wanted to make at the feeling of you sitting on him. Your fingers fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, watching him writhe underneath you at only the slightest touch. You popped each button out individually and slowly until Neil was groaning with annoyance.

"Don't be such a tease, Y/N," Neil grunted from behind gritted teeth once you had his shirt off. "If you felt how hard my dick was right now-"

"Oh, I do!" You giggled cheekily, slowly rolling your pelvis in a slow circle right over the tent in his trousers that poked into your thigh.

"You fucker-" He groaned, reaching his arms up and grabbing your head roughly and pulling you into a soul-sucking kiss, tongue grappling at yours desperately.

You moaned through dancing lips as you had the most delicious friction going. Neil was being just as loud as you, whimpers vibrating through your sternum and into your soul. Neil bucks his hips up pathetically before he breaks the kiss abruptly.

"You've gotta stop or I'm... I'm gonna..." He buried his muzzle in your neck and moaned. "I'm gonna fuckin cum in my pants." "Oh yeah?" You grinned, grinding your hips even faster.

"That means stop!" He grabs ahold of your wrists and flips you around like you were in a wrestling competition. You gasped out as he had you down against your couch, panting heavily above you with that frustrated-and-horny look. "I knew you'd be a little brat." He spat menacingly before grinning like a puppy, leaning down and kissing you heavily.

You ran your hands up your shirt, trying to pull your shirt off which made Neil pull away slowly when he realized you were taking your top off. "Are you sure?" He said breathily, above you, mouth wide open and his eyes glued on every inch of skin that was slowly being revealed more and more. You just nodded your head and smiled. "Oh fuck, you're showing me your boobs." Neil's eyes lit up like a kid in a candy shop. "Neil," You giggled as you got the top off and out came your tits, and there was Neil sitting there in disbelief at the sight of your boobs. "Neil!" You laughed, hitting him with a cushion; he smacked it away before looking back down at them with this look that almost resembled a look of horror. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"Fucking hell, this is the best thing to ever happen to me," Neil chirped. "Fuck... please, Y/N... please let me squeeze them."

"Go ahead, Neil, touch me," You hummed, raising your arms above your head and leaning back with a Cheshire cat grin as his hands slowly and cautiously cusp your boobs. He let out a soft moan and let his eyes flutter shut as he slid his hands over your breasts, you could hear his breath hitch as his thumb slid over your hard nipples. "You're acting like you haven't touched a boob before," You snickered.

"Oh, believe me, I have..." Neil nodded, eyes open now and staring at your tits like he was high. "Just none as good as these..." He leaned in, hot breath fanning your left breast, lips parted but he doesn't go any further than that.

"Put it in your mouth, pretty boy," You demanded, and like the sub you always thought he was, he obeyed with a smile. "Fuck... that's it." The tops of his cheeks were flushed a gentle pink as he sucked and swirled his tongue around your nipple. "Mmm...." He hummed, eyes closed. His full body weight was resting on you while he sucked on your tits, switching between them. You laid there for quite a while and wondered how long he could do this. You braided your fingers through his hair before tugging it back roughly, and he unwillingly popped off your tit with a loud and whoreish whine.

"Hey!" He complained with eyebrows knitted together as his eyes looked between your eyes and spit-covered tits. He's so spoiled.

"I always knew you'd be a little brat." You said, repeating what he said to you earlier.

Neil drools on you helplessly, groaning as you pull on his hair more until you two are sitting up facing each other. You grin once more and lean in, giving him a sweet little kiss. His hands cupping your tits desperately.

"Carry me to the bedroom." You hummed dramatically, raising your arms in the air, and Neil shook his head and chuckled as he leaned down and wrapped you up in his arms.

"I'm so glad you're my best friend," Neil murmured into your warm shoulder as he padded you guys down to the bedroom he had been in countless times.

"Not just best friends, though," You remarked as he laid you down on the bed with your legs over his shoulders. He reached towards your bedside table.

"Condoms?" He hummed, searching through your drawers, but found nothing.

"Birth control... you should know this you idiot!" You giggled at Neil realizing what you just said.

"Can I...?"

"Yes!"

"Like... inside?" He asked, squinting his eyes.

"Yes!" You nodded your head, laughing wildly.

"Fuck you're gonna be the best girlfriend ever!" Neil grunted happily before leaning in and kissing you like you were his last meal.

Meanwhile, he slid your skirt down and unzipped his trousers. You caught a glimpse of his thick cock straining against his briefs and found yourself growing wetter.

"Let me make you mine, Y/N..." He whispered. "Let me finally make you mine."

"I've been yours," You caressed his face. You were both out of your underwear now. The tip of his prick nudging your clit as you looked up at him with so much love. "Please... Neil... please... I need you so bad."

Neil nodded silently, closing his eyes as he lined up his aching cock with your dripping cunt. The initial push in made your mind go blank and your spine arch even further into his touch, Neil moaned as he pushed himself into you fully.

"I can't believe this is happening..." Neil whispered. "This is so much better than I ever imagined it to be."

"You thought about me?" You grinned idiotically, high on the way he was stretching you out.

"Fuck," He groaned, hair falling over his pretty face. "Every fuckin' night."

"Me too."

His hands were placed firmly on your hips, and as he receded back until it was just the head of his cock in you, his fingers slid up to grope at your tits that his eyes had been practically glued on all night. Neil fucked you nice and slow, relishing in the way your pussy felt around him. Your hands were gripping the sheets, legs still thrown over his shoulders and mouth spewing incoherent words of pleasure.

"Neil... baby... oh my god," Your eyes so desperately wanted to shut but you wanted to enjoy how pretty he looked above you. "I love you."

Those words hung heavy in the air for a moment, Neil's hips never faltering as he leaned down and kissed you. "I love you, Y/N." Neil whispered against your hot mouth.

That was all you needed to hear. His cock slid in and out of you, both groaning and moaning as your bodies finally became one. Neil's mouth hung agape against yours, breathing in each other's air. Neil's face was flushed a bright red, pupils blown wide, and his hair messy from how you ran your fingers through it. Your noses brushed together as his pelvis rutted against your clit, dick still so deep inside you.

"I love you so much," Neil panted, thrusting into you desperately. "I always have..."

"Love you..." You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut and your arms slithering around his neck as the pleasure consumed you from the inside out. "So much... Neil..."

Neil pressed a kiss to your cheek, nuzzling your face as he ground into you. "Fuck, please let me cum inside you."

"I'm so close, Neil..." You whispered. "Just hold on a little longer."

Neil grunted. A pyramid of pleasure building within you, ready to crash down and crumble inside of you. Your orgasm grew like a million tiny vines curling around each individual nerve until you saw colors you had never seen before.

"Squeezing me so tight," Neil whined. "I need to cum... please..."

"Cum," You commanded and he did.

Coming undone together felt like it was truly sealing your fate. You had never felt so close to him; you knew you could and would spend the rest of your life with him. He mewled into the crook of your neck, cum spilling into you as you convulsed, orgasm swallowing you whole and ridding you of all your senses. All you felt was him and the impending pleasure devouring you. Neil's whimpers only further pushed you over the edge.

"Y/N," He moaned like a whore. "Fuck... Y/N..." He whined right into your ear as his cock continued to fill you with his warm cum.

Your brain couldn't conceive a proper thought. You couldn't will yourself to speak as he collapsed on top of you. You smile as you lay there together, skin on skin, hearts pounding in sync. Neil pulled out of you with a quiet hiss, picking you up and curling up with you under the sheets.

You looked at each other silently, both still calming down. Your thumb drew infinity signs onto his cheekbone, slowly blinking at the boy you had always wanted- no, needed.

"That was the best thing to ever happen to me," Neil whispered, sleepy eyes looking at you full of adoration. "You're the best thing to ever happen to me." Neil pecked you softly on the lips. "I can't believe it took me this long to tell you... I... I'm sorry." "Shh..." You hushed. "It's okay... we're together now... that's all that matters."

You lay in silence once more, hearts still pounding in your chests. You took in every detail of him, which you had memorized countless times before, but this time it was different. It felt much more intimate. Every crease, every freckle... every tiny minuscule detail of him was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

"Does this mean we're boyfriend-girlfriend now?" Neil chuckled, rolling over onto his back, pulling you into his side.

"Shut up, Neil," You giggled. "You're such a dork."

"You love it." He quipped.

"I do," You agreed. "I love you."

"I love you," Neil smiled sweetly, and as he leaned in to kiss you again, you were quickly interrupted by the sound of Neil's phone ringing. "Fuck me," He grunted, reaching down to grab at his jeans where his phone was. "Hello?" He said with a sour face. "Hi, Jonathan, everything is okay... yes, she's here with me..." Neil looked down at you with a smirk. "Yes, Lucien can borrow my goggles... I don't care... can we talk about this later?" Neil hung up and tossed his phone aside before looking back at you with a sheepish smile.

"What was that about?"

"Well... erm... Jonathan just asked if everything went well... between us..." Neil blushed.

"He knows you're here?"

"He's the reason I came over... he gave me the courage to... y'know... tell you how I feel."

You rolled your eyes and laughed before kissing him deeply. You felt like everything was okay. Now that you had Neil in your arms, you could handle anything that life threw at you. Neil was already planning your wedding in his head as you shared the love between you in a kiss. You wouldn't want it to be anyone else

-

I NEED NEIL LEWIS.... LIKE RIGHT NOW!!! Ugh, I love him so much. Anyway, hope you enjoyed <3

[whimsicalpolitical]

Flannel Shirt - Ross MacDonald x Reader

day 11 of promptober 🍁

ross wants you to leave his flannel on

Content warning: 18+ mdni, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, riding, dirty talk, spanking (twice)

The window in Ross’ old childhood room is tilted, the rain not able to penetrate into the room, the wind is though.

You wonder how your boyfriend can still sleep half naked without freezing, because you are.

The time on your left says 7:49 and so it’s not totally bright outside.

Ross’ white blue flannel shirt on the floor catches your eye.

You carefully slip out of bed, mindful not to wake Ross, and quietly pad over to where his flannel shirt lay crumpled on the floor. The cool morning air pricks your skin, sending goosebumps across your bare legs and arms. You shiver slightly but smile; the crispness in the air is part of what makes autumn your favorite season.

Grabbing the flannel, you pull it on over your underwear. It’s large, the sleeves dangling past your wrists, and it smells like him—like woodsy cologne mixed with a faint trace of the bonfire from last night. Buttoning the first four buttons, you stop just above your chest, letting the fabric hang loosely around your waist. The warmth of the flannel quickly settles on your skin, comforting you.

Ross’ dark hair, usually neatly tied back, now spills messily over the pillow. He looks peaceful, his face relaxed in sleep, lips slightly parted. You smile again, admiring how cute he looks, his bare back half-covered by the rumpled blanket.

Deciding to let him rest a little longer, you glance at the half-open suitcase by the closet.

You arrived late last night, exhausted from the long drive to his parents' house, and didn't have the energy to unpack. Now seems as good a time as any. Quietly, you begin folding your clothes and placing them into the drawers and closet, moving carefully to avoid disturbing Ross.

You only spend 20 minutes until you hear a soft groan behind you.

You glance over your shoulder and see Ross stirring, his arm stretching out languidly across the bed. His face is still pressed into the pillow, his messy hair spilling across his forehead, and he squints groggily against the soft morning light filtering through the window.

“Mmm, what’re you doing?” he mumbles, his voice low and groggy, still heavy with sleep.

“Just unpacking,” you reply softly, trying to keep your voice down. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

He stretches out, groaning again, but then there’s a beat of silence. When you sneak another glance over at him, you catch him staring—eyes a bit wider now, and his face tinged with a slight flush. His gaze lingers on you, and a teasing smirk starts to form on his lips.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he states.

You shrug, pretending not to notice how intently he’s looking at you. “It was on the floor, and I was cold.”

Ross lifts himself onto one elbow, the smirk still playing on his lips. “Cold, were you? And you thought the best solution was to nick my flannel?”

“You weren’t using it,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant as you fold another shirt, though you can feel the warmth of his gaze on your back.

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Not sure how I’m meant to go back to sleep now, with you walking around in nothing but that.” His voice drops slightly, making it hard to ignore the teasing edge.

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the grin tugging at your lips. “Well, you’ll have to figure it out,” you say lightly, folding the last pair of jeans and placing them in the drawer. “Unless you want to get up and help me unpack.”

Ross groans dramatically, collapsing back onto the bed. “Absolutely not. Too early for that nonsense.” He pauses, then adds with a mischievous smile, “Although, I’d happily just lie here and watch you prance about in my clothes.”

You shake your head, fighting back the laugh bubbling up. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Am I? Or am I just a man appreciating his girlfriend?” He stretches out lazily, grinning. “Quite the view I’ve woken up to, I must say.”

“Ross,” you shyly say.

Ross laughs, a low, warm chuckle that sends a shiver through you. “Come on, don’t get shy now, love,” he teases. “C’mere.”

You bite your lip, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.“I mean it. Come over here.”

You hesitate for just a second before slowly walking over to him, the flannel brushing against your legs with each step. As soon as you’re close enough, he reaches out, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you gently onto the bed beside him.

“Much better,” he murmurs, his voice soft now as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

"Sweet girl.." he rasps, tugging you tight against him, beaming down at you and presses a kiss to your forehead, "good morning."

"Good morning." You grin

Ross smiles, eyes trailing the line of his flannel.

"Why're you looking at me like that?"

Ross sighs, shaking his head, and rolling you under him by your waist. You bite back a squeal, and he silences you further when he takes you by your radiant cheek and pulls you in to kiss him.

It's not gentle, but not feverish either - someplace desperate but full of adoration, passionate. He breaks away because he can't stop smiling, and continues to press open-mouthed kisses to your dew-dropped throat.

"Ross..."

"Darling..."

"What are you doing?"

Ross’ heart flutters.

"You look gorgeous."

His hands run up from your knees to your thighs, dragging the loose shirt with it until it's tucked up by your waist.

"Stop." you chuckle, turning bashful at such comments - the way he says it always make it sound important.

"So gorgeous." he gazes at you, "Like an angel."

"Really?"

"Always look pretty. Lay back for me, love." Your brows raise at him.

"Why?" you taunt, one leg wrapping around his hip, tugging him closer to you.

"Because, smart-mouth," he chuckles, taking your other leg and pushing it aside, exposing your black panties, "when you are as charming-." your eyes roll, "and as stunning as this... there's only one thing on my mind."

"And on weekends... I can take my time with you."

His lips take to your neck then, kissing away at your jaw and collarbone until you're perfectly placid and quiet.

"Is that okay with you?" he asks then, tongue dragging along your jaw before kissing the spot just below your ear.

Your face burns and your cheeks ache from smiling.

"More than okay..." you mumble, tongue suddenly heavy.

Your fingers lace his hair as he navigates your skin, then reaches your thighs.

Kisses and tenderness part them for him, and you hum contently as his fingers glide the fabric aside.

He slides down the bed, propping himself up comfortably.

When his tongue first makes contact against your clit in a light, testing lick, your hips buck and you let out a noise somewhere between a moan and a laugh, and Ross’ arm slides around one thigh to rest his hand on your lower stomach, keeping you steady.

“Thank you for doin’ all that,” he says, his finger pointing to his closet.

You murmur, fingers streaming through his hair as he drags his tongue from your entrance to your clit in one flat, weighted line that has your hips grinding against him.

On any other day, he might've chastised you for such impatience, but weekends are special - they're for you.

Ross tightens his hold on your thighs, drawing a line and a circle, over and over, until he's satisfied your entrance has been teased enough. Carving loops into your nerves, your desperate fingers loop and bunch in the length of his hair, taming your hold to be as gentle as your pent-up arousal will allow.

Already hazy, the morning light dances along the curve of his clothed back and your legs hook over his shoulders as he lowers further down, settling, devouring you.

“Rob-,” you whisper.

Ross stops and grins at you, “love, that’s my brothers name, not mine. Should I be concerned?”

You roll your eyes at his comment.

“Ross I know- but weren’t we supposed to have breakfast with him and the kids?”

Ross attaches his lips to your clit again, humming at the taste of you. You throw your head back and let out a quiet whimper.

“At nine, darling. We have more then an hour, now would you just relax.”

One hand comes to ground itself against the sheets, head turning as you murmur your prayers to him - dear lord- fuck Ross- god.

Sucking against your clit, gently at first in second-only intervals, your heels dig into his shoulder blades and your ribs expand around a sudden breath.

"Ross..." you whine, charmed, and he smirks against your skin - the whining is his favourite part.

"Darling..." he murmurs, "you alright up there?"

"Uh..." you stumble for words - for something smart or bold or just coherent - and end up settling for a simple, "mhm."

"Mhm?"

"Yeah... mhm, m’alright.”

"Those aren't words."

"One was..."

He shakes his head at your stubbornness but settles for your response, returning to his work - his praising of you - and your words return to hums and moans and whimpers for more. You wonder what he thinks with his head between your legs.

The truth is he's thinking you taste and sound and feel perfect.

Ross continues to lap at you as you grow wetter, as your legs tremble, as your pitch raises and he utilises his hand over your stomach to keep you against the bed.

As your thighs tighten around his head, he groans.

Ross leans in closer between your legs and wastes no energy in drawing circles on your clit, marking the same pathway he has a hundred times before. Whimpering, your hips raise, and Ross senses your release.

He eases off and steadily flicks against you instead.

You whine, murmuring nothing but sounding displeased all the same.

"Little longer, love." he rasps.

Worked up and clenching around air, your head shakes, but Ross has you in the cold waves of pliancy, soft in the way you listen so well. Arching into his mouth, tugging on his hair and reminding yourself to be gentle, you drift into your own little world of please, please, please, Ross, I'm close, need more, I need more, just,

"I know, I know..." he mumbles, barely letting up, beard brushing your inner thighs.

His sudden softness leaves you fluttering around air and Ross smiles as your discontentment.

Two fingers drag across your entrance and you grind down, hoping to catch them, but failing by smug design.

"Desperate girl." he tsks.

"Cruel boyfriend." your head shakes.

"Cruel?"

Just to prove a point, he gently - slowly, making you wait for it - pushes his fingers inside you, giving you time to adjust.

"I'm not cruel, darling , I just want to- savor you.”

Ross takes his time in opening you up around his fingers. Your hips fall against the bed and just let him do what he wants to do to you, soft sighs and whimpers leaving your parted lips.

"Look at that..." he smiles, lazily working at you.

When he's satisfied you've waited enough, Ross drags a heavy line from your entrance to your clit once more and sucks hard, rolling his tongue over it.

Combined with his fingers curling inside you, Ross has you right where he wants you.

You cry out, like he'd wounded you, glowing from the inside out - it burns, you're sure, from the pit of your stomach to the morning light. Your head shakes - too much, too much, Ross.

"Mm- almost there, you’re alright, princess.”

Fucked by Ross’ fingers, obliterated by his tongue, your orgasm creeps up on you and you swallow hard, forcing air into your lungs. Tightening around him and growing dizzier, you search the desert of your mind for the word Ross always wants to hear about now.

"Please.."

"Please?" he repeats, "You gonna come for me?"

You nod.

"Hm?"

"Yeah,please, Ross, please..."

"Course, polite girl.”

Sinful as ever, the moan that clambers your throat as your orgasm builds is panted and loud, restless and unyielding, and Ross’ cue to hold you tighter as you no doubt start bucking your hips. Your body takes over your mind and you whine and shiver and Ross, oh my God, Ross, Ross... until you're back to planet Earth, with Ross still licking and lapping at you for his own enjoyment.

Your thighs tense around his head and your hips twitch again, this time writhing away from him.

"Too much..."

He kisses the insides of your thighs, biting and nipping as you come down from your sublime high.

It’s one fast time when Ross ruts into the mattress, biting down onto his bottom lip.

“God, you’re hot.” You say, removing your legs from his shoulders and gripping his bicep to show him that you want him.

Ross chuckles, “you are.”

Your fingers try to find the buttons of your flannel, eager to give him all of you but he’s quick to grip your wrists.

“Leave it on,” he says, “it’s- you’re so fucking hot in this.”

You giggle, resting your hands on his cheeks as you pull him in for a kiss.

You take hold of his shoulder and tug him back toward you, rolling him onto his back.

You groan, and drag yourself on top of him, knees either side of his waist, ass hovering. When you sit back onto him, your core lining up with his crotch, your suspicions are proven right.

He's hard.

"Ross..." you mewl into the room, starting to grind your bare center over his boxers. The friction feels good, so you apply more pressure.

"You don’t have to do that- I can do all the work.”

"No- want to- wanna ride you.”

His eyes snap open. "Yeah? Fuck- alright.”

You drag your hips again. If anything, he's harder than he was when you first sat down on him.

You bend your waist and lower yourself to align your lips with the side of his head, peppering the skin under his ear with soft kisses.

“You’re everything, Ross.”

His hands slowly come up to rest on your hips.

When your hands lightly trace down his chest, onto his midriff and follow the trail of hair to his boxers, he doesn't stop you. Just watches from beneath hooded lids, tensing at each point your fingers touch.

You raise your eyebrows, watching his expression for any sign to stop, and it never comes. He remains in place when your fingertips hook around the waistband of his underwear, slowly pulling down.

Ross breathes in deep when you reveal the tip of his cock, springing up to rest on his lower stomach. You feel your core clench. If he's not inside you in the next five minutes, you might scream.

You look back into his eyes and tilt your jaw, asking for permission.

"Go on," he whispers.

Your hands take him eagerly, pumping up and down his shaft, and his head falls back onto the pillow with pleasure.

"Uhuh," you mumble, focusing on his solid dick, but desperate for more. You give him a gentle squeeze and a groan passes his lips, his grip tightening on your body.

You let go of him and grind your hips along his length, folds coating his shaft in your wetness. Ross is humming, watching as you pull yourself up and down him.

Then, you lean forward, and your hands take hold of him again. You give him a couple more strokes, eliciting a deep groan, and then line his bare cock up at your entrance, practically foaming at the mouth to sink down on him already.

His hands come to you flannel practically ripping up the clothes.

“Thought you wanted me to leave it on,” you giggle, watching as his fingers sneak his way around your back unclasping your bra in one move.

“I do and you will. Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy these ones.”

He stares you down; legs wide open, straddling him, completely naked, nipples hardened, in his shirt.

His eyes roll back and his head falls against the pillow. "Move, darling.”

You steady yourself with one hand on his chest, the other taking hold of his cock and guiding it to your entrance. You push his head through your folds a couple times, and Ross hisses at the feeling, before you sink down.

You stop after the tip the first time, but it draws the same reaction from you both. Ross groans even louder than before, and you moan as you push yourself back up.

Then, without warning, you sink the whole way down.

Joel's eyes are screwed shut, his grip on your hips digging into your skin so tight it almost hurts. His jaw is tight, holding back what you can only imagine are the neediest moans he could sound.

So, you decide to draw them from him.

You lean forward and begin bouncing, feeling his thickness pull out and push back into you, both hands on Ross’ chest now for balance. You're whimpering, the burn of his cock stretching your tight cunt so good.

"Good girl, good fuckin' girl," Ross moans, opening his eyes to watch you ride his dick. "Just like that, love.”

"Ross..." you cry, letting him bottom out each time,

"You’re doing amazing,” he praises, “giving me the best morning.”

"So-good, Ross.”

"Yeah? You deserve it.”

You fight against the urge to close your eyes; the pleasure between your legs and the knot beginning to tighten in your stomach are all you can see, hear, feel, but you want to watch him some more. You want to see what you do to him.

You lean forward even further, moving your hands to the pillow either side of his head, so you're directly above him now. One of Ross’ hands comes to the back of your head, pulling you down until your foreheads are together, moans escaping your mouths only to be inhaled by the other.

Ross speaks to you quieter, through gritted teeth.

"Like this position, yeah? Like the way it feels?"

"Mhm," you moan back, and he brings a hand down to slap your ass. You yelp. "Fuck..."

"Such a perfect cunt.”

Another stinging spank pulls a whine from you so filthy, so loud that Ross has to shut you up by pushing his thumb past your lips.

“Darling, it’s almost nine, look at the time.”

You can’t. Your hips can’t stop moving, you’re biting back moans around his thumb.

Ross laughs, “if they are already hear I don’t want them to hear you, as lovely as you sound, ‘right?”

“Mhm.”

Then, he bucks his own hips, pushing into you deeper than before, so deep you see stars. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, panting through the searing pain so good that you never want it to end.

"Ross- im gonna, fuck-“

"That's it, love, let me have it.”

That does it. The coil snaps, your walls clench. Ross lets out a guttural moan as you throw your head back and ride him through your orgasm. He coos you through it, squeezing your hips, whispering, That's my girl, doin' so good, love, as your body rocks back and forth on his cock.

When you come back down to earth, your lids heavy and breathing staggered, you swear your body can't take anymore. You feel so fucked out that you're not sure you can sit up straight on top of Ross.

But he's always been able to read your mind, and this is no different. He pulls himself up and into you, propped up with one strong hand on the mattress behind his back, the other wrapping around your waist. His cock is still buried deep inside you.

"Ross,” you whimper pathetically. "Can’t-“

"That's okay, love, we're gonna do this one together, alright? I got you. Can you do that for me? Just one more?"

You link your arms around his neck and lean into him; his strong form doesn't shift, just takes on your weight and keeps the both of you upright as he starts to bounce you on his length again.

You're overstimulated; your cunt swollen, fucked-out, drenched in cum, but Ross makes you feel so good that it's impossible to let him stop. Your arms pull him in closer to your chest to steady yourself, and his groans echo in your ear.

"that’s it, love, you’re amazing, going to spoil you so much today.”

When it all becomes too much to take - Ross’ hand squeezing your waist, your clit rutting against the bottom of his stomach, his fucking cock buried so deep inside you that you swear you can feel him splitting you open - you push him back down onto the bed.

You lazily drag yourself over and over Ross’ dick, each stroke drawing you nearer and nearer to your high.

“Perfect, so perfect.”

You brace yourself against his chest again, positioning yourself just right, and bounce on him until your vision starts to blur.

The noises slipping out of Ross’ mouth each time your bodies connect at the base of his cock push you closer and closer; every groan and whimper which passes his lips makes you sink your hips down even harder, pushing him deeper and deeper with every bounce.

"Fuck- Ross, you’re so big," you slur and Ross moans in response.

When he takes your hips in his hands again, you know he's there. He's just waiting for you to fall first.

You give in to him, feeling yourself close around his length, throwing your head back in pleasure as your second orgasm washes over you, igniting every inch of your body.

Ross’ groans meet yours as you lean forward again, slowly rolling your hips to coax him through his own orgasm. Watching him release, buried deep inside, he looks so good that you feel like you could cum again just at the sight.

You feel his cock start to go limp inside you and when he opens his eyes, panting, you smile sweetly at him.

"Fuck, darlin’."

You giggle, hips still driving gently against his.

"Good?"

"So good, love, did so well. You're gonna be the death of me," he whispers with a trembling breath, taking your waist in both hands and giving it a tight squeeze. You roll to the side, letting his cock slip out of you.

You tumble onto the mattress beside him, both heaving, moaning messes. Your chests rise and fall in sync, fingers tangling and untangling by your sides.

“Should’ve woken up way earlier,” you say, knowing that you’ll have trouble eating with his family later.

“I’ll remember that for the next time, you alright?”

Ross’ gaze is genuine, hands rubbing smooth circles into your thighs.

“Yeah.”

“Hold on,” Ross gets up and wanders over to his little bathroom, slipping a pair of boxers on, on the way.

He runs a washcloth under the faucet and makes his way over to you.

“There,” he sits down at the edge of the bed.

Your eyes fall closed, the cold cloth a relief against your warm, sweaty skin.

"Feel nice?" he whispers.

You nod in response. Your chest swells at how soft he's being, how tender.

He continues cleaning you up. Surprisingly you’re not as tired as you’d think.

You slip clothes on, sadly getting rid of Ross’ flannel, putting on earrings while standing in front of a mirror.

Ross sneaks up behind you and puts his arms around your waist, prepping kisses along your neck lovingly.

“I love you,” he whispers.

You can’t hide your grin.

“I love you more.”

Ross sighs as he looks at the time.

“Ready for my family, love?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

LOVE ME HARDER!

you swear your favorite color has nothing to do with kaiser. but unluckily for you, the boy’s fallen madly in love with you and has somehow convinced himself that he can connect the dots to make you fall madly in love with him. when you meet his flirting with a tough front though, kaiser has a secret weapon up his sleeve (or under his uniform collar).

gender neutral reader

content warning(s): reader’s favorite color is blue, kaiser’s tattoo isn’t super visible with his uniform in this fic

You loved blue.

You still do. And for the foreseeable future, you weren’t going to ever stop loving the color. It was a color so dear and special to you, and as much as you loved all the other colors, there was something indescribable about the blue hue.

It was everywhere. The color of the sky. The ocean. The small Google Docs icon while you scribbled down notes on your computer. A stray car in the distance while you crossed the road. It was the color of loyalty and knowledge, the cool tones even embodying the mystifying feeling of melancholy. And, if you allowed yourself to get a little pretentious and philosophical, probably the color of the universe. 

What a dignified color. You would never stop loving blue. Not ever. Certainly not now. And you would never extinguish your love of the color because of a man.

But boy, was someone making it difficult.

You always heard him before you saw him: the rumble of footsteps, Ness gushing incoherent praise, the shrill trill of German words hanging in the air. Like an overture before a grand opera, except those thirty seconds were the only prep time you’d get to turn on your heel and book it out of there if you didn’t want to say hello to your biggest headache.

“Oh, daaaarling! There you are! Hey- Don’t run away!”

An outstretched pair of arms materialized on either side of your body, and you let out a loud yelp before you were pulled backwards into a tight hug. You screeched like a feral cat, clawing helplessly at the air while a loud haughty laugh rang out against your eardrums.

It was only when you turned around that the sense of hearing gave out to the sense of sight. Beautiful strands of blond-blue hair swept across your eyes, the twinkle of his golden locks not too unlike the catlike gleam in his pupils. Speaking of his eyes, you hated the stupid bastard for how much blue he had on him and more importantly, how good it looked. Even the smug azure of his crinkled eyes made you stop breathing for just a split second, and your lips parted unconsciously as your hatred momentarily dissipated into wonder at the delicate hue.

“Staring at me? Awwwww, do you think I’m handsome? Of course you do. You wouldn't be so starstruck otherwise,” he chuckled. You instantly snapped out of your stupor, and you twisted your face into a disgusted frown.

“Take your hands off of me, you idiot,” you snarled. “I’m not in the mood to talk to you.”

“Oh? Perfect. I think that’s perfect timing to talk to you.” Kaiser kept one arm slung firmly over your shoulders, expertly placing himself at your side. You dug your heels into the ground and kept your place whenever he tried to edge you closer to his torso, egging you to relax into his touch. “Busy being a little color nerd again? I think it’s adorable that you’d pick your favorite color after me-”

“-I did not pick my favorite color after you,” you huffed. You crossed your arms, and you glared directly up at him (this time, you took extra care not to get lost in his eyes). “Do you really think I don’t have a personality or something? To pick a favorite color after a man?”

He shrugged. “Hey, I’m a pretty charming guy, if I do say so myself. Just now, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me. I’d say I wear the color well. Say, if I swapped my red eyeliner out for a blue one, would that make you stare at me even more?”

You wanted to push him off, but you knew better than to engage a professional athlete in a half-wrestle-half-run-for-your-life-thing. “In your dreams. You’re an atrocious mix of colors.”

“Sure.” He easily brushed your words off. He broke out into his usual smug grin, chuckling at you as if he were a cat toying with a mouse. If he could, you swore that he’d gobble you up in one bite and leave no crumbs. “But I’d say blue is totally my color.”

Red hot annoyance flooded your body. This was so unlike you, to be moved to such anger that you’d be thinking of any color other than your favorite cyan hue, but something about this man made you want to beat him to a bloody pulp until he truly was nothing more than a mix of crimson and black and white broken bones. 

“Blue is MY color!” You grumbled. “I liked it even before I met you! Hell, I probably understand it better than you do! Dipping your hair in Kool-Aid and being born with blue eyes doesn’t automatically make blue your color! It’s my favorite color, and me liking it has nothing to do with you! Not everything revolves around you, Kaiser!”

You fumed at him, having blurted out all of the tension mounting inside of your chest. You stood there, wanting to claw off the weight of his arm across your shoulders. You wondered if Kaiser would yell back at you, if those beautiful sapphire eyes of his would narrow into small slits before he’d wind up for the pounce, if he truly would swallow you up into a void of blue nothingness just to prove you wrong.

But instead he threw his head back, and he laughed heartily.

“You’re too funny for your own good.” He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye with his other hand, and he barely held himself together long enough to look at you. “The world? Revolve around me? Maybe to all those other stupid commoners. Those brainless fools need a stunning star to guide them. To give them any purpose in life.”

You grimaced, skin crawling with disdain as he yanked you closer. His free hand caressed the outline of your cheeks and jaw, and you let out a small “eep!” as he hooked his fingers under your chin to gingerly lift your face to meet his. You held your breath as the German prodigy leaned in, until the silhouette of his peach-pink lips were much too close to your mouth for your liking.

“But, darling… Oh, my sweet, stupid darling…” His voice was far too smooth for your own liking. Like the lining of a regal blue mink-fur lined cape, the kind you’d see in a 1700s painting of a king, the edge you get from swallowing down a mouthful of ice water. He looked too pleased with himself, having you ensnared perfectly in his arms like this. The thick tension that hung between the two of you felt like poisoned honey, and he shook his head at you mockingly. “If anyone were to pay attention closely, they’d know that the script is much more different for you than it is for those everyday fools.”

“Don’t lump me in your weird fantasy.” You blinked at him defiantly. He pursed his lips slightly, but Kaiser didn’t waver even once. 

“All I want to say is that there’s nothing wrong in admiring beautiful things. If you like blue that much, nothing wrong with admiring the blue on me, is there? It’s unhealthy to deny yourself the things that you love so much.” He let you go finally, and you practically leapt out away from him. “If you don’t want to throw yourself at my feet and beg to play the role of my dedicated love interest, that’s fine too! Although, I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to. Anyone would be honored to have my attention the way you do.”

“You’re a self-centered prick. I don’t want to give you any more attention than what I’m already wasting on you.”

“That’s what I’m saying! If you let down your high walls and properly let yourself admire me for the beautiful, charming, handsome guy I am, then it wouldn’t be a waste of your time.” He expertly flicked his hair over his shoulder, winking at you as some of the strands tumbled down his collarbones and back. As atrocious of a haircut as it was, you did have to admit that the color of his weird gradient was very pleasing to your eyes.

But you’d rather eat knives than admit it out loud. 

“You’ll have to try harder than that. Anyone can dye hair,” you muttered, thoroughly unconvinced. “And before you ask, I’m not interested in staring at your eyes either. Blue eyes mean nothing to me. And I can always go buy color contacts off the internet and stare at those instead if I really want to.”

“Boo! That’s so boring! Wouldn’t you want a real living person? Someone with personality?” He pouted.

You rolled your own eyes. “Yeah. Someone that doesn’t have a stick stuck up their ass.”

Kaiser pressed his lips into a line, suddenly lost in heavy thought. He knew your patience was already running thin with him, and while it was frustrating that the typical antics he’d lavish onto his fans wasn’t netting him the reaction he wanted from you, it still thrilled him the same. You were so tough to crack! He knew deep down that you had some heart for him and that you loved admiring beautiful things! And was he not the most beautiful thing of them all? He was skilled, talented, the kind of guy anyone should be flattered to have. All he needed was to convince you with something unique, something that no other groupie or fan of his couldn’t have, and maybe that would be the key to luring you over.

To turn that burning red hatred of yours into a calm, placated blue interest.

“Well, what if I give you something truly special then? If I could show you something that you have to admit is beautiful, would you admire me then?” He offered tentatively. You sniffed, keeping your head held high, but he took your silence to mean that it wasn’t a complete refusal.

He broke out into the biggest grin you had ever seen. Your confidence wavered slightly at his smug smirk, and nervousness prickled over your skin. You held your breath as Kaiser slowly raised his hand to his neck. Two fingers hooked onto the golden collar of his Bastard Munchen uniform, which covered a generous portion of his neck.

He yanked down. 

A flash of deep, royal blue stunned your vision, and your eyes instinctively widened. Kaiser tilted his neck to the opposite side, making sure you could catch a proper glimpse at the part of his throat that was normally concealed by his uniform. You felt like something inside of your brain had violently hit the brakes the moment the color hit your eyes. 

Roses.

Beautiful, beautiful blue roses. 

You’re automatically entranced by them. They’re tattoos, each expertly painted on his skin with a careful hand. The black outline makes the rich hues pop even more against his body, and while you tiptoe forward to catch a better view, you can only make out the better part of one of the bigger roses. The rest are covered by his uniform, and you can see the hint of inked thorns traveling away from the flowers and towards his arm. 

Kaiser instantly caught the shift in energy from you. He wisely kept his mouth shut, but some prideful part of him was celebrating inwardly. He let you step closer to admire the handiwork on his body, your curiosity delighting him to no ends.

You wanted to touch them. To touch him. Oh, you could imagine the feeling of soft rose petals under your fingertips while you were utterly mesmerized by his tattoo, almost forgetting that it was just an inked drawing rather than real flowers.

“Well? Isn’t it lovely?” 

You flinched, snapping back to life. Dumbfounded, you were at a loss for words. It was completely unlike you to not have some kind of mean comeback to snark at him with, but the secret weapon Kaiser had on hand was too much. His tattoo had overwhelmed you in a heartbeat, the artistic touch only making you want to see it again.

But unfortunately for you, he adjusted his uniform back into its regular position with a cruel smile. “See? I knew you’d like it. Do you want to look at it again? Oh, I know you do. C’mon, tell me. Tell me you want to see it again. It’s not like I’m going to refuse.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, and very hesitantly, you swallowed back your pride. “Can… Can I see your tattoo again?”

“With pleasure, darling.” He cooed. He paused for a moment, and he pulled you closer towards him. You gulped nervously when he peered down at you, clearly savoring the victory he had earned by pulling wool (or in this case, a lovely tattoo) over your eyes. 

“But why don’t I take you to my room instead? I’ll take off my shirt for you. That way you can see the entire thing. And then you can fawn over me properly. You just said you wanted to see my tattoo again. Those pretty roses,” he leaned in, tempting you over and over with the fleeting memory, “Those pretty, pretty roses that are in your absolute favorite color.”

You were torn, and Kaiser reveled in that tormented expression of yours.

He held his hand out. “No need to be shy. Let me show you all sorts of beautiful blue things, my darling.”

x

[jinjinxedsoul]

When The Sun Loved The Moon - Aegon II Targaryen.

CHAPTER 1. FIRE DREAMS

121 AC. King’s Landing.

The hurried footsteps echoed through the halls of the Red Keep; Helaena was running as fast as she could, holding the hand of little Jacaerys, who was only five years old and laughing uncontrollably.

“Hurry up!” Aemond urged her, pushing her towards one of the rooms.

“Don’t make a sound, Jace,” Helaena whispered, covering her nephew’s mouth with her hand.

Behind them was an exhausted and very out-of-breath Aegon, eight years old, with a smiling Jaella hanging on his back, urging him to keep running after her uncles and brother.

“I can’t go that fast with you on my back,” the prince scolded her, though the little girl didn’t seem to care at all. “We’ll never catch up to them.”

Jaella had developed a growing affection for her uncle; out of the three, he seemed to be her favorite, though no one knew what Aegon had done to make the girl like him so much since, in everyone’s eyes, the prince was neither charming nor, at the very least, respectful. Regardless, Jaella didn’t care at all about her uncle’s less-than-decorous behavior; the only thing that mattered was that Aegon had been the first member of her family to meet her, even before her own father.

“There!” the princess exclaimed, pointing with her chubby little hand at Helaena’s unruly, platinum hair peeking out from behind a pile of stacked dirt sacks. “There, Egg!”

“Well, it seems we haven’t found them,” Aegon said, aware of the children’s presence, not only because Jaella had spotted them but because he could hear Jacaerys’ laughter despite the others’ poor attempts to silence him. “I heard they’re making honey cakes in the kitchen, maybe if we go now, you and I can get some before dinner.”

Jaella’s eyes lit up, and so did Helaena’s, as she forgot about her hiding place and lifted her head above the sacks, but Aegon pretended not to have seen her.

“Let’s go, Ella.”

“I want some too!” Helaena exclaimed, which Aegon took as a cue to run off, with the youngest Velaryon still clinging to his back. “Aegon!”

The three children ran after the eldest, hearing his mischievous laughter in the distance.

They didn’t catch up to him.

That afternoon, Aegon and Jaella ate honey cakes to their hearts’ content.

122 AC.

Aegon wasn’t particularly fond of small children; he found them exasperating, especially when they cried. He had heard his nephew Lucerys cry more times than he would have liked, and many of those times Aegon ended up fleeing to his chambers to escape the noise. However, things were very different with Jaella, as she seemed to seek him out whenever she cried, regardless of how much Aegon tried to avoid being around her during those moments.

That afternoon, he had no choice but to endure it, especially since, after much insistence, he had agreed to take Jaella for a walk.

For Aegon, spending time with his nieces and nephews was an unusual activity, one that was particularly scrutinized by everyone in the castle. It was well-known that the queen still questioned, covertly, the legitimacy of Rhaenyra's children, and these ideas were passed on to her own children.

Aegon understood, or at least tried to, that the difference in hair color between Jacaerys and Lucerys posed a problem for the court and, in general, for the royal family. However, he wondered if it was normal for those rumors to continue spreading even after Jaella’s birth; in his eyes, and according to the ideas his mother had instilled in him, Jaella was the most deserving of them all.

Alicent, of course, didn’t like her children mingling with Rhaenyra’s, but as it was the king's demand that his offspring live peacefully together, there wasn’t much she could do about it. Aegon wondered if his mother would ever force him to distance himself from the Velaryons or use his closeness as a treacherous means to inflict harm upon them.

Aegon considered how easy it would be for him to dispose of Jaella at that moment.

The little girl was stretching as much as she could to reach one of the flowers growing by the riverbank, whining because she couldn't quite reach it. Aegon watched her with a tilted head, wondering what would happen if he gave her a little push. He wouldn’t need to do much more than wait for her lungs to give out or for the current to carry her out to the bay; if the Stranger was merciful, perhaps her body would be carried to Driftmark, where her grandparents could give her a proper funeral.

The prince stood up and took two steps toward the child. When he was close to her, Jaella looked up at him with her tear-filled violet eyes. There was something in the little Velaryon’s gaze that made Aegon’s heart tighten in his chest, a special spark that he only saw in his sister’s children, as neither he nor his siblings had it.

The idea of extinguishing that light in Jaella’s eyes gave him a shiver and made him stop abruptly. The dark impulse he had felt before faded away like a shadow in the sunlight. Jaella’s gaze, so pure and full of life, even with its childish sadness, reflected what he had lost and, somehow, reminded him of what he could still be if he clung to his humanity.

Aegon crouched down and stretched his arm far enough to reach the flower she was trying to pick, plucked it, and then handed it to her with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

“Thank you” Jaella murmured, settling back onto the grass. Aegon’s hand dared to quickly wipe the tears from his niece’s cheeks, and she smiled at him softly. “It will look pretty.”

He nodded, looking down at the flower crown his niece was making.

“Your mother will like it.”

Jaella smiled widely. She enjoyed making the flower crowns because she knew it would be a while before the crown currently resting on her grandfather’s head would be placed on her mother’s. So, in the meantime, Jaella crowned her with these.

The thought made her wonder what would happen to her uncle once her mother sat on the Iron Throne.

“Uncle?” she spoke, drawing his attention. “When my mother gets her crown, will you have one too?”

Aegon’s insides twisted with pain. He knew a kingdom could not have two rulers, and despite his young age, he was already beginning to understand a bit more about the weight on his shoulders.

“I don’t know.”

“You will,” she said confidently. “I will make sure mom gives you a crown too.”

Aegon smiled. He wasn’t sure he wanted a crown.

126 AC.

“Be quiet,” Jaella scolded.

Jacaerys complied and fell silent while trying to peek through the heavy wooden door’s crack. Lucerys tried to peek as well, but his view was obstructed by the midwives’ skirts, leaving him with only fleeting glimpses

The twins were deeply worried about their mother’s condition. She had started experiencing labor pains in the morning, but as afternoon was approaching, the baby still hadn’t arrived. They weren’t sure how long a birth was supposed to take, but they suspected, from the worried faces of the midwives going in and out, that it was taking too long.

The heart-wrenching cries of their mother sent chills down their spines, and all they wanted was to know if she was okay.

“It’s not proper for the princes to spy.”

The voice behind them made them jump and turn around almost immediately, facing the imposing figure of the commander of the guard.

“Ser Harwin,” Jacaerys greeted. “We just want to see her.”

“You can see her once the maesters deem it appropriate.”

“But—”

“Have you chosen an egg for your brother yet?” Harwin cut off the younger Velaryon’s protests before they could even begin. “Your parents expressed their strong desire for you to do so.”

The three children looked at each other excitedly, and before they could start running, the man stopped them by holding their shoulders.

“Allow me to escort you, my princes.”

═════𖠁 ═════

The three Velaryon were kneeling in front of the clutch, observing the eggs with curiosity. Some were very colorful, but they were significantly smaller than the black one at the back.

“That one,” Jaella pointed out, receiving nods of agreement from her two brothers.

“A good choice, princess,” one of the guards said, preparing to take the egg to Princess Rhaenyra’s quarters. “Your little brother is sure to be blessed with a formidable dragon.”

Jacaerys and Lucerys followed the egg closely, making sure nothing happened to it while Jaella stayed a few steps back, still guarded by Ser Harwin.

“Is something the matter, princess?”

The commander knew that the young girl’s expression always turned nostalgic when dragons and their eggs were discussed. The egg that had been placed in Jaella’s cradle had never hatched, so she didn’t have a dragon like her brothers. Although she tried not to make much of it, it was quite noticeable to the adults around her, especially to Ser Harwin, who seemed quite close to the princess, that he wanted to have one.

“Don’t feel bad,” he encouraged her, gently stroking her silver hair. “There are still enough dragons without riders for you to claim one later, not to mention the ones that have yet to be born.”

“Do you think I could claim one?” she asked, her eyes shining brightly.

That look always managed to melt the older man; Harwin Strong would have fought anyone necessary to ensure that Jaella had a dragon, but that wouldn’t be well received and would only cause more harm.

“I’m sure you can,” he said. “The blood of Old Valyria flows through your veins.”

He regretted those words as soon as they left his lips; he knew well that Jaella’s blood was tainted because of him, and although he loved the girl with all his heart, he couldn’t help but be consumed by guilt whenever he heard her talk about how much she wished to fly on a dragon.

═════𖠁 ═════

She didn’t have anything to do at the dragon pit, but she always asked one of her brothers or uncles to intervene and let her go. That day, it was Aemond who had told the septa, responsible for Jaella’s education, that she wouldn’t be able to attend her lessons beyond midday.

The girl’s fascination with dragons was no secret, so instead of forbidding her, they decided to let her be and see them up close as much as she could.

Jaella clung to Lucerys’ hand as she curiously watched the way Jacaerys seemed to control his dragon. Vermax was still small, but no less fascinating. The girl clapped excitedly when the dragon responded to her brother’s commands and devoured the lamb in front of him.

Jacaerys looked at his twin sister, and she nodded proudly, receiving a smile in return.

“Aemond, we have a surprise for you,” Aegon said, catching the platinum-haired boy’s attention.

“What is it?”

“Something very special.”

Jaella frowned when she saw Lucerys start to run. She wasn’t aware of anything, and knowing how indifferent the children could be towards each other, she grew worried.

“You don’t have a dragon,” Aegon said, wrapping one of his arms around her shoulders. “And we felt badly about it, so… we found one for you.”

Jacaerys smiled and nodded. Jaella looked at him with a frown that her older twin ignored completely. The girl’s heart pounded fiercely in her chest; she felt that something wasn’t right.

“Behold the Pink dread!”

Lucerys was pulling an enormous pig with a pair of fake wings while laughing shamelessly along with Jacaerys and Aegon.

Jaella felt a terrible heaviness overtake her; her stomach churned and her hand gripped Aemond’s arm tightly. He looked humiliated, his face had gone pale, and his lower lip trembled slightly. In contrast, Jaella had turned red and was gritting her teeth, trying to control the tears that were welling up in her eyes.

“Make sure to mount her carefully, the first flight’s always rough,” Aegon advised with a laugh, patting Aemond on the back.

Jacaerys laughed and imitated the pig’s noise, annoying Aemond. The platinum-haired boy remained still, unsure how to react or what to say, but he knew he shouldn’t cry.

The laughter didn’t last long, as Jaella’s hand struck Aegon’s face, surprising him since she had never been aggressive before, at least not with him.

“It’s not funny,” she muttered, her gaze shifting between her brother and her uncle.

Silence fell over the group like a heavy stone. Aegon put a hand to his face, still shocked by Jaella’s fury. Jacaerys stood still, his smile fading from his lips as he became aware of his sister’s genuine anger.

“We were just playing,” the older twin tried to defend himself.

“I don’t have a dragon either,” Jaella said. “Were you going to give me a pig too?”

“Jaella, you’re a girl, we wouldn’t...” Aegon’s voice trailed off under his niece’s gaze.

“Then why is it different with Aemond?” She knew they would never admit their mistake, so she had no desire to interrogate them until they apologized. “Let’s go, we don’t have to stay here.”

Jaella took Aemond by the arm and pulled him along, leading him out of the area while continuing to look disdainfully at the others.

She and the youngest of her uncles settled for a walk by the river, closely followed by Ser Criston, who was trying his best to overhear something from the conversation between the two children to report back to the queen.

“Do you think I’ll ever get a dragon?” the prince asked, making a face.

They walked with their arms intertwined, and Jaella tightened her grip on Aemond, looking at him with a big smile.

“Sure, you will,” Jaella said.

“Maybe you’ll manage to make more than one egg hatch, right?” Aemond asked, and although he tried to sound nonchalant, he couldn’t help the excitement in his words.

Jaella shook her head firmly, and Aemond frowned.

“When I dream of you with a dragon, I dream of a huge dragon... a freshly hatched one wouldn’t be that big.”

The prince didn’t know why Jaella’s words brought him so much comfort, but they did. She often spoke about the future with such confidence, as if she knew what was going to happen. Aemond was used to this, after all, his sister did the same, though in a more enigmatic way that he usually didn’t understand; however, Jaella was always straightforward, and even though she didn’t share much of what she saw in her dreams, when she did, it gave an undeniable sense of reality.

“Don’t you want a huge dragon?”

“I don’t worry about the size,” she said simply. “As long as it can carry me to fly, I’m content.”

“And what will happen when you have to go to a battle?”

Jaella wrinkled her nose, and her stomach churned. She didn’t like battles, although deep down she knew she might not be able to avoid them forever. She always preferred to stay away from such matters.

“I just want to fly on my dragon.”

═════𖠁 ═════

The girl made a grimace when her mother detached the small Joffrey from her breast; the princess’s areolas were slightly bleeding from how much the baby was eating.

“Will I also bleed like this when I have a child?” she asked in fear, causing Rhaenyra to let out a small laugh.

The heir to the throne adjusted her dress, cradling her son in her arms while signaling Jaella to come closer. She obeyed immediately, and her mother quickly took her face in her hands, gently caressing her cheek with her thumb.

“My sweet girl, my mother once told me that we have royal wombs and it is expected of us to serve the realm in that way,” Jaella’s brow furrowed immediately. “But as your future queen, I will make sure that you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to have a child,” she declared immediately. “Maybe the Mother will bless me with two children in the same pregnancy like she did with you.”

“And why do you want that?” Rhaenyra asked, looking at her daughter with devotion.

“Jacaerys and I have been together all the time, and I have never felt alone,” she reflected for a moment. “Grandfather says that you were lonely when you were a child, and Aegon also often feels lonely sometimes. If I had two children at once, maybe they would always have someone to share their lives with, just as I have Jace.”

"That is a very beautiful wish," Rhaenyra said, smiling to the side, unable to overlook the mention of her half-brother, with whom she knew Jaella had an affinity. "Has your uncle Aegon told you that? Has he said that he feels lonely?"

"I suppose court life doesn’t seem very pleasant to him," Jaella shrugged. "Maybe the queen can find him a good wife soon."

Rhaenyra felt a pang of annoyance inside her, recalling the conversation she had with her husband a few days earlier.

The rumors about the legitimacy of her children's births continued to circulate through the Red Keep, and she had asked Laenor to be more present at her side to strengthen their bond, rather than spending most of his time indulging his pleasures in Flea Bottom.

During that conversation, the topic of her children’s marriages had come up, especially the older ones, as they were already ten years old. Given the circumstances surrounding them, it was time to start seeking allies for the day when Rhaenyra would ascend to the throne.

The first suggestion was to marry her to Jacaerys, but that wouldn't guarantee any other alliances; the same would happen if she were married to Lucerys. What they needed was to unite their house with another to secure allies.

One of the solutions Ser Laenor proposed was to marry Jaella to one of Alicent Hightower’s sons.

Rhaenyra’s blood boiled at the mere thought.

To give her precious daughter to either of those two boys seemed to her a terrible idea; while it might ensure they maintained peace for a while, it was directly risking her only daughter. She knew Alicent well and knew that she would not hesitate to use Jaella in some twisted way to secure Aegon’s claim.

Giving away a daughter was too much, but obtaining one would put Alicent at a disadvantage and offer at least a few years of stability.

Rhaenyra quickly obtained her father's permission to betroth Jacaerys and Helaena, which enraged Alicent. Despite the complaints and tears she had presented to her husband, he had not yielded and had assured the entire court that his daughter and his grandson would marry.

═════𖠁 ═════

The celebration of Helaena and Jacaerys’ engagement was as grand as one could expect from House Targaryen. Three full days of revelry that delighted the noblest families of all Westeros.

“Are you happy?” Jaella asked, looking at her brother’s future wife.

Helaena looked at her with a small smile and nodded.

“The list of suitors didn’t please me,” she said simply. “But Jacaerys is kind.”

Jaella smiled proudly.

“You had a list of suitors?” Her aunt made a face and nodded again. “Who were they?”

“I don’t know their names,” she said, shrugging. “But they were all old and stinky… and Aegon.”

Jaella’s eyes widened with curiosity at hearing her uncle’s name as a potential candidate for Helaena’s hand.

“You didn’t want to marry Aegon?”

Helaena looked at her as if she had just uttered the worst blasphemy and shook her head again, this time with much more vigor.

“He’s rude and always drinking,” she said, glancing over at the other side of the hall where her brother was drinking cup after cup.

Jaella looked at him with curiosity. While it was true that Aegon’s passion for alcohol was excessive, she didn’t think he was as bad as everyone made him out to be. It wasn’t that she doubted Helaena’s judgment, but Aegon had always been calmer around her, and even though Jaella knew his behavior wasn’t exactly the best, she wondered how a person could be so different with different people.

“Would you marry him?”

She thought about it a little while watching him. Aegon looked over from a distance and raised his cup, giving her a radiant smile.

“Yes.”

═════𖠁 ═════

It was during the last day of the celebration that Jaella grew tired of all the commotion and left the hall earlier than usual, wandering through the gardens to enjoy the tranquility of the night before heading to her room.

Her attention was so scattered that she didn’t notice she was not alone until her body collided with someone else’s.

“I apologize, Princess,” the stranger said.

Jaella blinked a few times. The boy in front of her was clearly older but still looked quite young. His hair was curly, dark, and slightly long, and the wolf-shaped brooches holding his cloak indicated he was a member of House Stark, but she didn’t seem to recognize him.

“I don’t believe I know your name, my lord…”

“Decran Stark, Your Highness,” the boy said, bowing his head, and Jaella smiled.

“Lord Decran, there’s no need to apologize.”

“Had I known you would be alone in the garden, I would not have come, as I wouldn’t want your reputation to be questioned.”

“I appreciate the concern, my lord,” she said with a smile, “but rest assured that won’t happen. Ser Erryk or Ser Harwin must be nearby, and neither my grandfather nor my mother would allow such accusations to be made.”

That was true; no matter how much space the princess was given, a guard was always watching her steps. Usually, it was Ser Harwin, and Jaella was completely sure he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

“That reassures me, Princess.”

“Why don’t you walk with me, Lord Decran?”

“It would be an honor.”

The walk lasted long enough for Jaella to learn some basic things about the Northerner and for him to make her laugh several times. Decran Stark was only fifteen years old but behaved like a true gentleman.

Jaella thought about the list of suitors Helaena had mentioned on the day of her engagement party with Jacaerys. She wasn’t sure if her mother had one for her, but she could definitely see the young wolf as someone worthy of being on it.

“Have you been to Winterfell?” Decran asked. Jaella smiled and shook her head.

“I’m sure you would like it.”

The girl played with the bracelet on her wrist, as she always did when she felt slightly nervous. The constant fiddling caused it to come undone and fall to the ground. Decran quickly picked it up.

“If you allow me…” he gestured, asking for permission to put the bracelet back on.

Jaella nodded and extended her hand, smiling.

“Keep your hands off my niece.”

Aegon’s voice made them both jump slightly, especially Jaella, who quickly took the bracelet from Decran’s hands as he took a couple of steps back.

The prince appeared drunk, though less so than on the previous two nights. Behind him was Ser Criston, who seemed to judge Jaella with a look, even though she didn’t understand the evident disdain that Cole had for her family.

“My apologies, my prince,” Decran didn’t seem intimidated by the young man’s presence, much less because he knew of the internal conflicts within House Targaryen and because Aegon was nothing more than a usurper of Rhaenyra’s inheritance in the eyes of the Starks.

“I’m not interested in your apologies,” Aegon said simply, taking a few steps away from Jaella. “I know that in the North they are short of manners, but here you cannot be alone with the princess.”

“Lord Decran has done nothing improper,” Jaella spoke quickly, but Aegon seemed to ignore her completely.

“Do you know, Lord Stark, that if anyone were to see you alone with the princess at this hour, strong accusations would be made against her?” Aegon continued in a disdainful tone, not removing his gaze from the Northerner. He then looked around before turning his gaze back to him. “Since I am the only man close to Princess Velaryon here, it is my duty to ensure that this mistake is punished.”

“Aegon…” Jaella’s voice came out as a trembling whisper.

The prince, clearly affected by the alcohol and his own sense of superiority, didn’t heed her plea. Instead, his gaze became harsher and more determined.

“Ser Criston, bring me the head of Decran Stark for putting my niece’s reputation at risk.”

Criston’s expression hardened. Under different circumstances, he might have stopped to think, but with few witnesses present, he could convince Prince Aegon to distort the truth about the situation and turn it to his favor, earning House Stark’s support for the queen’s children.

Decran gripped the hilt of his short sword, which protruded from his waist, ready to defend himself by any means necessary.

Jaella stepped forward, her heart racing uncontrollably.

“No!” she exclaimed, her voice ringing with an unexpected firmness. “This is not necessary. Lord Decran has been respectful at all times and has done nothing to jeopardize my honor. There is no reason for this violence.”

The princess could have positioned herself between Ser Criston and Decran, but she knew Cole would not react to her pleas. Instead, she stood in front of Aegon and looked him in the eyes, gripping his hands firmly, which surprised the prince.

“Uncle, please,” she begged with tearful eyes, breathing heavily. She was not willing to allow someone who had not harmed her to be punished severely. “Please, do not punish someone who does not deserve it.”

Aegon’s gaze focused on Jaella’s distressed face. His chest stirred with discomfort, and he grimaced as he felt the burning grip of the young girl’s hands. Still, he did not pull away.

“Jaella, I…” Aegon began, his voice wavering as the grimace on his face deepened. He was not used to being confronted in this manner, especially by someone he considered weaker and more vulnerable. The anguish in his niece’s eyes was making him question his own harshness.

“Please,” she pleaded again, stroking the back of the young Targaryen’s hand with her thumb.

Finally, Aegon let out a deep sigh. His resistance crumbled in the face of Jaella’s genuine desperation. He stepped back slightly, looking at Decran with a sneer of disdain.

“Escort Lord Decran inside, Ser Criston,” he said, his voice laden with anger. “I will see that my niece gets to her room.”

═════𖠁 ═════

Honor didn't seem to matter as much now, as when Jaella had invited him to her room for lemon cakes, Aegon had not hesitated for a second to accept, even agreeing to Ser Erryk’s request to leave the door open.

The rest of the night passed peacefully, and the topic of Decran was not mentioned until an hour later, when the children had finished all the cakes.

“Are you sure he did nothing?” Aegon asked, raising an eyebrow. Jaella nodded, which slightly reassured him.

“Is my sister already looking for a suitor for you?”

“I don’t know. Though Jacaerys is already promised, so they will probably arrange something for me soon too.”

Aegon made a displeased grimace that went unnoticed by Jaella.

“Are you going to tell your mother you want to marry Decran?”

Jaella frowned. She barely knew the northerner, and while she considered he would make a good suitor, the idea of asking her mother to marry him had not crossed her mind.

“I don’t know who I want to marry,” she said, shrugging.

“You definitely shouldn’t marry a Stark,” he muttered.

“What’s wrong with the Starks?” she asked with genuine curiosity. According to her studies, House Stark was quite honorable.

“I just think you should marry someone of your own blood to keep it strong,” he said simply.

In Aegon’s eyes, it had been a blessing that she wasn’t married to Jacaerys. It would have been a shame for Jaella’s children to be deprived of their mother’s Valyrian traits and instead inherit the common features of his nephew. Aegon was certain that Jaella would bear beautiful children, like herself, and he saw no need to overshadow them.

“You could marry Aemond or Daeron,” Aegon suggested.

“Why don’t I marry you?”

Silence filled Jaella’s quarters. Aegon felt a pressure in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain.

He knew his mother wouldn’t allow it; she hated Rhaenyra’s children too much, and she had only given them Helaena reluctantly. Alicent would never easily give up Aegon.

“I don’t think that idea would make anyone happy,” he said with a bitter smile. “Not even you.”

“I like being with you,” Jaella said, shrugging as if her statement was a simple truth.

No one had ever said that to him before. He was so capricious and rude that most people fled from him without a second thought. He even doubted his own mother enjoyed his company. But Jaella seemed sincere; despite his bad behavior and the reputation that preceded him, the Velaryon girl didn’t seem to change her behavior towards him, even for a moment.

Jaella, in her innocence, didn’t fully grasp the internal struggle Aegon was experiencing. To her, things were simple. She enjoyed his company and saw no need to complicate things with the intrigues and enmities that seemed to surround their families.

At that moment, Aegon wished he could marry her.

═════𖠁 ═════

His mother entered his room without warning, as she commonly did. From the way her brow was furrowed, Aegon knew she was upset. Even before she could speak, his head started to throb; the night before, after leaving Jaella's room, he had gone out to drink a little more and then retreated to his own room for some pleasure, so he wasn’t in the best condition to receive a reprimand.

“Sir Criston informed me of the little dispute last night.”

Aegon pressed his lips into a thin line. Criston Cole’s extreme diligence in reporting caused him more headaches than he liked. The prince tried to sit up, but the sharp pain in his head made him relent, and he sank back into his pillows.

“Do you have anything to say about it?”

The silver-haired prince sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“I didn’t think it was right for that Northman to be alone with Jaella.”

Alicent squinted at Aegon’s response. The evident concern in his voice only increased his mother’s irritation.

“And why not?” she demanded; her tone harsh. “I’ve told you time and again that the further away we keep Rhaenyra’s bastards, the better. We already have enough with your father deciding to marry Helaena to Jacaerys and now you want to stop that girl from forming distant alliances? Your claim to the throne is at stake, Aegon, and so is your head.”

“Why not save it and betroth me to Jaella?”

Alicent's fury ignited in an instant. Her face twisted into a horrified expression, and her open hand struck her son's face, leaving it red. Aegon gently touched his cheek, feeling the sting in his eyes, but he kept his gaze fixed on his mother, refusing to give in to the pain or the shame threatening to consume him.

"Never repeat those words!" Alicent exclaimed, her voice trembling with anger. "How dare you even suggest such a thing? Our family has suffered enough! Do you want to destroy everything we've built?"

Aegon didn't care about any of that. No one had ever asked him if he wanted to be king, and his father didn't seem too pleased with the idea either—after thirteen years, he still hadn't named him heir. Not that it mattered to Aegon; he didn't believe he was fit to rule.

He couldn't even control what was between his legs—how was he expected to control the Seven Kingdoms?

The thought made him laugh, which only enraged the queen further.

Alicent grabbed his face firmly.

"You don't understand what you're saying. You don't understand the weight of what you're asking. Every word you utter has consequences. You can't just discard your responsibilities because you don't like them."

Finally, she let go and ran her hands over her face, trying to calm herself. She knew well that Rhaenyra would be capable of eliminating every obstacle in her path to the throne. She'd already dealt with Helaena through marriage, but with Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron, she wouldn't be so merciful. She wouldn't rest until she saw the heads of her three brothers on pikes.

"You are our future king, Aegon. It's time you start acting like one."

═════𖠁 ═════

When Ser Harwin assured her that she could claim a dragon, the idea took root in her mind, and she resolved to do whatever it took to make it happen. Her first plan was to tame one of the riderless dragons, but her mother had said it was too risky. So, Jaella spent her afternoons by the castle's hearths, trying to give her egg enough warmth to finally hatch.

When that didn't work, she buried herself in the castle's library, searching for a solution to her problem. It didn’t take long before she found what she was looking for. The books mentioned that dragon fire could help eggs hatch more quickly.

That early morning, Jaella leaped out of bed while everyone was still asleep. She used the secret passages she had once discovered to sneak into Aegon’s room.

The prince was sprawled out on the bed, deeply asleep, his breathing steady, and his mouth slightly open. Jaella stifled a silent giggle at the sight, then stood by the bed and began shaking Aegon until he woke up, groggy and trying to focus his bleary eyes.

"What are you doing here?"

"I need your help."

Aegon blinked rapidly upon hearing those words.

"Are you alright?" he asked immediately. She nodded. "What is it?"

"I need Sunfyre’s fire to hatch my egg."

Aegon’s brow furrowed, and the remnants of sleep quickly vanished as Jaella explained what she had read that afternoon. The prince didn’t quite understand her obsession with the egg, but he eventually sighed and got out of bed.

While Aegon dressed, Jaella started searching the walls of his room. The prince watched her curiously but didn't question her. Soon enough, Jaella found and opened a hidden door, leaving Aegon in awe.

"Has that always been there?" Jaella nodded. "And you knew about it?" Another nod was her only response.

"Now let’s go before anyone realizes I’m not in bed."

They used the secret passages to leave the Red Keep, despite Aegon’s reluctance to enter the unfamiliar hidden paths. Jaella linked her arm with his as they walked through the streets of the city. Aegon, well-versed in the ways of Flea Bottom, used his knowledge to ensure they avoided the worst of the alleys.

Entering the Dragonpit posed little challenge for them, as they had done it several times before. Sunfyre, Aegon’s golden dragon, was peacefully asleep in his usual spot.

Jaella smiled at the sight of him, and Aegon also appeared proud of Sunfyre. The dragon awoke and made a sound akin to a purr when his rider called to him softly; he nudged his snout against the prince’s chest, making Aegon smile.

Jaella smiled too, because she liked seeing Aegon smile. When he did so sincerely, his smile was radiant.

"Give it to me," Aegon said, pointing to the egg in Jaella’s arms.

Without hesitation, she handed it to him immediately, and the prince placed it on the ground at a safe distance from Sunfyre, who eyed the egg with growing curiosity. Aegon took Jaella by the arm and gently pulled her back, distancing them from the reach of the fire and positioning himself in front.

Jaella clung to his arm and peeked from behind him, waiting for the command.

"Dracarys."

Sunfyre opened his mouth and breathed a warm blast of fire over the egg. Jaella held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched the flames envelop the egg.

After what felt like an eternity, the fire ceased, and the two children cautiously approached the egg. Jaella's eyes scanned every inch of it, nervously searching for any sign of a crack, no matter how small. As the minutes passed, there was no indication that it had worked.

A knot formed in Jaella's throat as she felt tears welling up in her eyes, irritating her.

"Maybe it just needs more time," Aegon tried to console her, though there was a hint of doubt in his voice.

Jaella wiped her eyes, brushing away the tears that had already begun to spill down her cheeks.

"It was supposed to happen immediately," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It didn't work."

Perhaps she wasn't meant to have a dragon, perhaps her blood was tainted as everyone said, and that's why her egg hadn't hatched. Maybe her mother had lied to her all this time, and Laenor wasn't her father. Jaella clenched her fists.

She knew Laenor wasn't her father.

Fury surged within her, anger at the world; at her mother, at her supposed father, at Ser Harwin, at herself for believing she would have a dragon...

Aegon could see her suffering, but he didn’t know what to say. No one had ever taught him how to comfort someone, to offer words of encouragement, and although Jaella knew this and wasn’t expecting it, he still wanted to make her feel even a little better.

He couldn't find the words, because he didn’t know how to comfort her. But he stayed close by as she turned and left the Dragonpit, retracing their steps back the way they had come.

The princess didn’t speak the entire way back, and neither did Aegon.

By the time they made it back to the Red Keep through the secret passages, the sky was already beginning to lighten, signaling that the sun would soon break through the clouds. They both sat down on one of the castle's balconies for a moment; Jaella settled there first, and Aegon decided to stay with her.

Throughout their journey, Aegon had been trying to think of a way to console her, and though he had an idea, he wasn’t entirely sure how to start.

"Do you remember when you asked why we couldn’t get married?" Aegon’s voice broke the silence of the early morning. Hearing him speak after such a long time felt strange, but even so, she turned to look at him and nodded. "Mother didn’t like the idea."

Jaella didn’t understand what that had to do with the recent situation.

"But if she ever decides it’s a good idea… I’ll give you a dragon egg as a wedding gift."

The younger girl was taken aback, not only because Aegon was offering her a dragon egg, but also because he was speaking about the possibility of marrying her. She knew it wasn’t very likely, but the fact that he was considering it caused a strange, pleasant sensation in her chest.

"And if we don’t get married?" she asked curiously.

"I’ll give you one anyway."

From that night on, Jaella began to consider the idea of marrying Aegon as one of her dreams.

[god-has-entered-my-body]

Sun drowns the house - George Daniel & Matty Healy

aka: the spit roasting fic

A/N: took my meds just to write this fic, also thank you my love @justleaveatnine for forcing me to write and ALSO proofing this for me xx

wc: 6k

content warnings: litch everything i fear, smut, dirty talk, degradation, praise, so insanely gay dont look at me, this is what happens when a gatty truther writes a threesome fic, spit roasting (obv), handjobs (sort of), matty in lingerie (a given at this point), knife play, dom George for literally three seconds, insanely pathetic gatty for the rest, she orders them around (also a given atp), cunnilingus, slight impact play if u squint, begging, denial (sort of), facials, cumplay, mention of sub drop, but he's well taken care of x, disgustingly sweet because i have to, MDNI!!!!!!!!

You hear them first  

The door clicking open, Matty struggling to get the chain off to let George in, and then muffled footsteps as he toes his shoes off, throwing them into the floor next to the coat rack. Muffled voices laugh as Matty says something out of pocket, ushering him upstairs with a giggle. The door to the bedroom creaks open, stopping halfway through the motion because of its broken hinge.   

That's when you see both of them. Matty’s hand touching George’s arm, right above where his elbow creases. The glossy magazine in your hands is heavy, pictures of models in posh clothes littering the pages, pops of vibrant color drawing you in. It’s one of Matty’s, his extensive collection of them growing in piles next to the bed. You joke that you don't even need a nightstand anymore, you could just put the lamp on the stack of old vogue. 

You set it down, straightening your back as George looks in your direction, nodding at you as Matty keeps touching him, only letting go to close the door, leaning his back against it as you pat the bed next to you, asking George to come sit down next to you. The furniture creaks awkwardly, making you giggle when the mattress dips beside you, the unmade sheets crumpling even more under the two of you. 

George's eyes wander over to Matty, who surprisingly, is still just standing there, looking at both of you. He shifts on the bed, uncrossing his legs to sit with his feet planted on the floor, both hands on his knees as you move behind him, trying to figure out what he’s doing. 

That's when you see it. 

Matty stands there, a filthy smirk plastered on his face as both you and George stare at him, everything clicking into place slowly. His clothing gives his intentions away so blatantly, it almost makes you laugh. Clad in his favorite black, skin-tight jeans, he’s paired them with a pair of new heels neither of you had seen before. Cherry red platforms, rhinestones lined along the bottom, glimmering mesmerizingly as your eyes travel further up, taking in the sight of him all dressed up for you. 

You can feel George move oddly, and you know his little ensemble affects him just as much as you, if not even more. Matty’s top is pink and slightly see through, and you recognise it as one of yours, seeing how it hangs a bit loosely, folding and draping itself over his chest and torso. You hear the soft metallic sounds of jewelry as Matty takes a step forward, the glitter around his eyes becoming more and more visible the closer he gets the the foot of the bed

“What are you playing at, Matty?” George speaks, making you jump just a bit as his voice reverberates through your body, the low tone of his voice going straight to your core. Matty scoffs and shakes his head at the accusation, however true it might ring. 

“Just want to hang out with my mates, is that a crime now?” he deflects with another question, waving his hands around him gesturing to you, then George, like that somehow strengthens his point. 

“No one gets that done up just to hang out.” you breathe, blatantly enjoying the view as Matty���s hands find his hair, brushing back the freshly washed curls out of his face. George cocks an eyebrow at him, nodding along in agreement. Matty simply shrugs, picking at his nails in a bored way as the tension in the room builds, Both of you know what he wants, you just want to hear him say it. 

“What did you really have planned when you invited G over?” you say, hearing George suck in a deep breath in through his nose, steadying himself before Matty answers, who puts his hands up in defeat.   

“Got me there darling, m’not as slick as I thought.” now it’s your turn to scoff, “You really aren’t.”

Matty isn’t bothered by your jabs, pulling a playful face at you.

“I brought our sweet George over here to fuck him” he walks over to the foot of the bed, finding George’s choked reaction quite amusing. “Or watch him fuck you, I don't mind either way. But you knew that from the moment I walked in here.” 

"D'you want to get in my panties, George? Want me to scream your name like I scream hers?" Matty speaks, his voice sultry and low as George lunges towards him, catching his lips in a hot kiss, full of teeth and tongue and desperation as Matty whines into it, letting George take over. George’s eyes are wide when he finally pulls away, darting over Matty’s features before pulling him back in, both of them breathless as though they had just to run a marathon. You watch intently, taking in every movement and noise coming from the two of them, committing it all to memory. 

“Oh, I like this.” you whisper, grinning at the two of them as they turn to glance at you, sat back with your back against the headboard, watching the scene in front of you. “Of course you do, freak.” Matty murmurs, nipping Georges bottom lip with his teeth as the blonde gasps softly, eyes blown out and flicking between you and Matty frantically, not sure where to look. 

A delicate hand guides his face to look straight at Matty, their lips locking in another bruising kiss, making even you feel the heat of it, your fingers brushing your hair out of your face as they break away and turn to look at you. Both of their chests heave with effort, George using every ounce of self control left in him to not kiss him again, opting to bite his lip and try to catch his breath instead. Matty grins wildly, looking you up and down as ideas run through his mind, all of them absolutely filthy.

“Don’t want her to miss out on the action, yeah?” His voice is teasing as George looks at you in the same way Matty did, full of desire and want. “‘Course not.” The bed creaks loudly as Matty climbs off George, quickly pouncing onto you and slamming your back into the headboard, your crash cushioned by pillows and blankets. You yelp, a small giggle escaping you as a mess of curls bends down to press his lips to yours, tongue licking into your mouth dizzyingly 

Now it’s George's turn to watch how Matty kisses you, his lips moving from your lips to your cheek to your jaw, slowly trailing down until he reaches your collar bones, his teeth nipping at them lightly. He makes his way down your body, hands pushing your top up to reveal inches of skin previously concealed, a soft gasp leaving your lips as he presses a hot kiss right between your tits, pulling at your shirt hard enough to get you to raise your arms and have George pull it off you. No words, except a quiet “Fucking hell,” from George, are exchanged as you lean forward to unhook your bra, letting it slowly fall off you and be discarded in the corner. 

You can hear Matty exhale sharply, licking his lips before diving back in, sucking marks and bruises onto the skin of your tits, biting down every so often just to feel you twitch. He grins against you as George catches your lips in a sweet kiss, his hand coming up to cup your face as Matty presses wet kisses all down your stomach, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips, hard enough to leave bruises. 

The bed creaks again as George disconnects his lips from yours, proceeding to nudge Matty off to the left, making you spread your legs even wider. You feel obscene as George kneels in between your legs, right next to Matty, his large hands gripping your jean clad thigh and peppering kisses over the material.

“Fucking gorgeous, tastes amazing as well.” Matty mutters, almost inaudibly, his fingers toying with the button of your pants, tongue running over the zipper teasingly. The eye contact makes you dizzy with need, his eyes fluttering as the thought of his mouth on you takes over his mind. 

You look over at George, who looks like he’s trying to desperately suppress a moan at Matty’s words, his breathing heavy. Matty senses how worked up he is, his own cock starting to fill in the confines of his tight jeans. His fingers work to undo the button of your pants, the quiet pop insanely loud in the near silent room. Matty runs his thumb over the zipper, looking up and slightly behind him to get a good look at George, who is panting and bright red, rock hard in his shorts.   

“Want a taste?” Matty’s words are smooth, sure, sultry. George looks like he’s about to pass out when he pulls your zipper down, the sound ringing through his head as loud as sirens, his eyes wide and lips parted. “Fuck, can I?” George pants, his voice shaky and so turned on, he can barely form words. Matty looks up to you, his look asking for your approval, and you vigorously nod your head, pulling your gaze over to George.  “Yeah, yeah please, George– fuck.” you breathe, your eyes heavy and hooded, nipples hard against the cool air. 

Matty works on tugging your jeans down your thighs and off you, George’s hands coming up to roll your nipples between his fingers, making you gasp in a mix of pain and pleasure, head foggy with lust and desire for both of them. The moment your pants hit the floor you can feel Matty’s tongue on you, licking and sucking your clit over your cotton panties, the front of them painted with a visible wet spot, making his grin against you as the taste envelopes his senses. You roll your hips against his mouth, desperate for any friction you can get, a soft moan leaving George’s lips at the sight of Matty’s head buried between your thighs. 

With your eyes closed, you can only hear how George properly settles between your legs, mirroring Matty’s position, on his stomach. You watch as Matty moves to the side, leaving hickeys all over your thigh as George lets his fingers trace over the wet patch on the front of your panties, a mix of your arousal and Matty’s spit, shuddering as he feels you twitch under his touch. You genuinely can't think straight as George hooks his thumb into the waistband of your panties, slipping them down and off you as you arch your hips, Matty so blatantly staring at your glistening core it almost makes you giggle. 

You  bite back a whimper when George takes your panties into his right hand, stuffing them into his pocket with a smirk, Matty grinning wildly once he realizes what he'd done. George’s tongue on you feels like absolute heaven, his hand snaking around your waist to grip you tighter, pulling you impossibly close to him. Matty watches with lustful eyes, his gaze flicking from where you and George connect and your face, very much enjoying the blissed out expression painting your features. 

Your skin is flush, sweat making your hair stick to your forehead as your hips arch up and grind onto George’s tongue, blinding pleasure shooting into every corner of your body as he laps at your clit, quickly being pulled away by a very eager Matty, yelping as he’s yanked back by the hair. His lips are replaced by Matty’s, who is moaning into your cunt so obscenely it makes you blush even harder. “Want you to kiss him baby, show G some love, yeah?” you whisper, your hand running through Matty’s messed up curls as he nods, turning his head and being met with George’s face already incredibly close to his. 

The kiss is hot, all tongue and teeth and soft, breathy whimpers, the sound like music to your ears. George’s fingers circle your clit as they make out, sparks of pleasure making pressure build in your core. It doesn’t take long for George to pull away, his hand threading through Matty’s hair and staying there, guiding his mouth back to your clit, a choked moan leaving your lips. “Making her feel so good, doll, look how loud she is for us.” George coos, looking up at you as his hand presses Matty’s face further into your cunt, depriving him of any oxygen. 

You can tell how much Matty is enjoying this, his hips bucking into the mattress helplessly as George talks him through it, whispering filthy things into his ear as his lips connect with his neck, the angle awkward but still insanely hot, your eyes rolling back when George rests his head on your thigh, watching Matty eat you out with such an intensity it makes his head spin. You can feel your orgasm approaching rapidly, your chest heaving and mind hazy with pleasure, making Matty redouble his efforts as George keeps guiding his head. 

You try to warn him, but Matty just nods into your cunt, swirling his tongue around your clit and sucking it between his lips, making your vision white out in pleasure as you cum, legs trembling even in George’s firm grip. “Fuck, there you go doll, making her cum so hard, aren’t you?” George whispers, breathless at the sight of you thrashing and grinding down onto Matty’s tongue to ride out your orgasm. 

Matty’s face is slick when he pulls away, licking his lip with a filthy smirk plastered on his face. Both of them get on their knees, now kneeling in front of you, still panting and hazy from your climax. 

The kiss they share is frantic, needy, almost animalistic as Matty presses his body against his, hands tugging at George’s shirt, moaning wantonly into his mouth. “Off, need this off.” he whines, George obeying and lifting his arms up to allow Matty to take his shirt off him, leaving his sweaty chest bare. You watch as Matty’s teeth sink into the skin of his shoulder, making George cry out in surprise. The yelp slowly turns into a groan as the pain morphs into pleasure, Matty sucking hickeys into the space right below his jaw, hands roaming his chest and tweaking his nipples. 

George gives in to his touch for a while, feeling every intense sensation tenfold as Matty touches him, overwhelming him with pleasure and pure need. It’s almost painful to pull away, but he does, making eye contact with you as Matty cocks his head, following his gaze to you. You’re still laying there, though slightly sat up now as you watch the scene in front of you unfold, grinning at the show they’re putting on for you with hungry eyes. 

“I want..'' George stammers a bit, trying to form a coherent sentence as his cock strains against his trousers, Matty’s mouth back on his chest not helping him in the slightest. You smirk at Matty, parting your bruised lips to speak, your words coated in thick honey. “Tell me, baby, what do you want? Don’t be shy.” Your tone doesn’t help George speak clearly, it only clouds his mind even more, thoughts and fantasies flashing in front of his eyes faster than he can verbalize them. 

“I want you to, uhm–,” George pauses again, biting his lip as teeth graze over his nipple, the sharp pain making his cock even harder. Matty giggles at his reaction boyishly, like he isn't just as hard and twice as desperate as him, his cockiness turning you on even more. 

 “I want you to fuck him. Like you told me, wanna see him take it.” 

Those words make Matty perk up, his eyes fluttering at the thought of being filled by you, feeling you pounding into him mercilessly. You don't even acknowledge his reaction, ignoring him completely as you speak to George and only George. 

“Yeah? Wanna see how pretty he looks crying for us?” You can tell how turned on Matty is, the way you two speak about him like he isnt in the room making him dizzy with lust and want, his lips pulling away from George’s now marked up chest in favor of frantically trying to look at both of you at once, hoping to see a spark of interest in your eyes. What he sees is so much more than interest. He sees promise, and George’s next words only solidify what he hopes is going to happen. 

 “Please…Fuck, darling–”

“I know baby, just lie on the bed for me, yeah?” you coo, getting up to a kneeling position and pressing a (hardly) chaste kiss to George’s wet lips. You get up slowly, turning your back to sift through the nightstand drawer, hearing the bed creak behind you as George lays down where you previously were, leaning his back against the headboard. Your hands finally feel what you were searching for, grinning to yourself as you pull the strapon out from the mess of toys and lube that live in your bedside drawer. 

Turning back around, your breath hitches at the sight in front of you. Matty on his stomach, settled between George’s spread legs, cheek nuzzling into his tensed thigh. Strap in hand, you grin at them, both blatantly ogling your naked frame, eyes raking over the curve of your hips, the slight pudge of your stomach, and you feel a flash of power, of control rush through you at how much you affect them. 

“Getting started without me? Not that I'm complaining.” you giggle at Matty’s smile, eyes hooded in overwhelming lust as he rubs against George’s bulge, knowing how much you love it when he does shit like this. 

“And I thought Georgie here was the voyeur.” he says, his teasing tone making an already nervous George stammer and stutter over his words pathetically, trying to defend himself. “I– I don’t–” 

“Shh, it’s alright darling, no need to be shy.” you speak, slipping on the strap tightening the harness around your hips, watching how Matty’s eyes widen in anticipation. You know you look hot, evident in the way they both look at you, silently begging you to do something, anything, or at least allow them to do something to each other. 

“Oh– fuckk– ” the desperate noise comes from George, caused by Matty suddenly unzipping his trousers, the pressure on his cock finally being relieved after what feels like hours. Matty practically salivates at the sight of his cock straining against his boxers, eyes flicking back up to where you're standing, wordlessly begging for permission to touch him properly. “Just keep being pretty for me, I'll be right there.” you tell him, his defeated nod making your core stir with desire. 

Brushing your hair with your fingers, you grab the bottle of lube sitting on the nightstand, fumbling it and earning a giggle from Matty. You watch him mouth along George’s cock through his boxers, the blonde’s eyes screwed shut in torturous pleasure as Matty teases him. Matty, still fully clothed, attempts to grind against the mattress, being the only one that hasn't been properly touched this whole time. You chuckle to yourself and so does George, and you make playful eye contact as Matty whines, slowly getting more and more impatient. 

“Getting so worked up for us, aren’t you baby? Want me to fuck you, is that it?” you tease mercilessly, dragging out each syllable until Matty feels like he’s going to cum on the fucking spot, his hips bucking wildly against the sheets. George watches as you kneel on the bed right behind Matty, nudging his legs telling him to spread them. “Let's get these off you, yeah?” Matty nods frantically, too turned on to speak as he licks up George’s shaft, watching him twitch under the heat of his tongue. 

Matty shuffles on the bed, kneeling and staring at George as he unbuttons his skin-tight jeans, moaning in relief as the pressure is lifted off his leaking cock. The lust is so dizzying that he fumbles with the zipper for a few beats, finally getting it down far enough to show both of you the new lace he had gotten especially for today. You make eye contact with George, the sight of him palming himself over his boxers, skin flushed bright red and chest heaving burning itself into your memory. Matty throws his jeans off the bed, taking a moment to mirror George’s movements on his own cock, pornographic moans spilling from his lips at the sensation. 

Matty’s your top is next to go, joining the crumpled up jeans on the floor. Your breath hitches when he looks back at you, winking provocatively before running his hands up his chest, finally able to touch himself properly. You let him, knowing how much George is enjoying the show based on the choked groans leaving his lips, the whole scene going straight to your core. 

“Get on your stomach, baby, make G here feel so good for me.” you speak slowly, smiling condescendingly as Matty’s eyes cloud over with lust, his nod dazed and desperate, and you know he’d do anything right in that moment. He does what you say, leaning forward and scooting onto his stomach, back in the position he was before. Clicking your tongue, you grab his hips harshly. “You know what I need from you Matty– yeahh that's it baby, arch that pretty back for me, doesn't he look so good like this, George?” 

Both of them whine at your words, and you can physically feel how bad Matty needs you, his breathing heavy and irregular, skin glistening with sweat. You’ve dragged this out as long as you can, teasing and toying with both of them to near tears. Right when they think it's over, all the games and demands, that's when you pull out one final item from under the sheets. 

A small pocket knife. 

Matty can’t see it, but George can. His eyes widen as you twirl it at him, grinning wildly as you lean down to whisper into Matty’s ear, your strap pressing up against him, making him tremble in anticipation. Trailing the blade down his spine, you watch goosebumps erupt all over his skin as he slowly realizes exactly what you’re doing, a strangled whine ripping itself from his throat. 

“Want me to cut your pretty panties off you, baby? Have you all exposed for us?” 

Your words make Matty genuinely shiver, his nodding frantic as he turns his head back to catch a glimpse of the knife, so overwhelmed with sensation he can't form a single coherent thought, his hips pressing back into your strap. “Don’t neglect poor George just because you’re a fucking whore for me, yeah?” As the focus is brought back to him, you watch George’s eyes snap up to meet yours, wide and hazy. 

Matty whimpers quietly, his fingers quickly working to tug George’s shorts further down, taking his boxers with them. George stifles a moan as Matty’s cool hand wraps around his cock, gathering the precum at the tip and smearing it down his shaft. “Fuck, you’re so hard.” are the only words he can force out, mesmerized by George and his reaction. “C’mon baby, spit on his pretty dick, get him nice and wet.” you urge him, and George can't stop the pathetic obscene moan that leaves his lips when Matty does just that, spit dribbling down his as his hand moves up and down his cock. 

What finally does George in is the way Matty looks at him, teary eyed and desperate, his tongue darting out to kitten lick the tip, sucking the head of his cock between his lips. The look of absolute bliss on George’s face makes your breath hitch, one of your hands trailing up to grope yourself, enjoying the scene playing out in front of you. 

You use Matty’s preoccupation to trace the knife in your hand further down his back, hooking the blad into the waistband of his panties, slowly letting the material split until it quite literally falls off him. 

You can tell exactly when Matty takes George completely into his mouth, a dragged out, “O-oh god– shittt.” leaving his lips as George lets one of his hands find Matty’s cheek, soothingly rubbing it as he bobs his head, making the blonde’s eyes screw shut in pleasure. You don’t let yourself get lost in it though, but fuck, it’s hard not to. The sound of the cap opening is impossibly loud, and Matty recognises it immediately, his hips bucking violently as he gags around George, eyes tearing up from the effort. 

You slick up your strap with a generous amount of lube, using the remaining liquid to draw a small heart on Matty’s back, the shape shining even in the dim light of the bedroom. Matty coughs violently as George accidentally thrusts up into his mouth, a mix of spit and precum dripping down his chin as he pulls off for a second, wiping away a few tears.

“I’m okay G, I promise. Fuck, that was so hot.” he assures George, grinning up at him with sparkling eyes, mouthing an inaudible “I love you,” before taking him back down his throat. 

You watch as George threads his hand into Matty’s hair, pushing his head down slightly and gauging his reaction, a muffled moan telling him all he needs to know. Using more force, he guides Matty’s head up and down his cock, slowly, almost lovingly, fucking his mouth. The groans that spill from his lips are nothing short of delicious, spurring Matty on to take him even further, doing his absolute best to suppress his gag reflex, relishing in the feeling of George’s cock hitting the back of his throat. 

Leaning down once again, you whisper quietly against Matty’s ear, “Relax a bit Matty, mhm? I’m so proud of you, you’re taking this so well for us.” Matty can only whine in response, attempting to nod even with his mouth stuffed full of cock. . 

You inhale deeply before pressing the tip of the strap to his hole, teasing him one last time, just for the sake of watching him squirm and writhe under you. You know his cock is leaking onto the sheets by now, making a mess of them because he can’t help himself when it's the two of you, thinking his with dick instead of his brain. 

“He’s so fucking pretty George. Look how good he’s gonna take my cock, aren't you baby?” you speak, nodding at a blissed out George, so overwhelmed with pleasure he can barely respond, nodding back at you. The relieved moan that leaves Matty’s lips when you finally, finally press into him is nothing short of pornographic, audible even over the wet sounds of his lips sinking down on George’s cock, bringing him closer and closer to the edge with each and every movement. 

“So gorgeous doll, feels good?” you coo, your hands gripping his hips and holding him in place, mercilessly fucking into him and never once letting up for even a second. Matty pulls off of George to answer, his hand taking over while he speaks, stumbling over his words pathetically. “P-please, feel so full, fuckk–” 

George just watches you thrust into him, brushing against his g-spot with each movement of your hips, Matty’s whines once again muffled by his cock fuckign into his mouth, taking pleasure like it belongs to him. “Taking us so good Matty– looks so fucking pretty too, doesn't he?” Your words motivate Matty to no end, and he deepthroats George until he can’t breathe, so eager to please it literally possesses him, the only thing on his mind being you and George. 

“Yeah, y’look so beautiful choking on my cock, fuck.” George groans, and you know he’s close because of how his voice pitches up, sounding eerily similar to Matty. You almost scold him when he pulls off again, his obscene moans now even louder as your strap hits his g-spot over and over again, making him dizzy and all his thoughts go away, pleasure taking over every inch of his being. 

“Feels s’good, shit– Please make me cum, darling I need to cum so fucking bad, been so good f’you, please.'' Wet sounds fill the room, and you're sure you look like something straight out of a porno, the position so filthy it clouds your mind, your movements speeding up, causing Matty to moan louder, loud enough for even the neighbors to hear. Not that you would mind.   

“George–” he starts, interrupted by your chest pressing to his back and you reaching to wrap your hand around his cock, squeezing him before putting on a condescending tone “Speak up baby, he can’t hear you.” George can barely think, so fucking close to the edge he can taste it, his cock leaking and twitching with every jerk of Matty’s hand, his knuckles ghostly white where he grips the sheets, trying desperately to hold off his rapidly approaching orgasm. 

“George, I want– FUCK– please, oh god fuck.” Matty’s voice cracks as you start drilling impossibly deeper into him, stretching his hole around your strap, mesmerized by how absolutely fucked out he looks even though you can barely see his face. 

“Want you to cum on m’face G, please darling, please.” he slurs, eyes hooded and heavy as he twitches in your hand, threatening to cum in mere seconds if you don’t get your hands off of him. You want this to last, after all.  

“So filthy, and here we thought you had a bit of dignity left in you. I don’t blame you though, baby, just look at him.” you let go of his cock, a quiet whine interrupting you, earning Matty a soft slap to the flesh of his arse. 

George pants, his hair wild and eyes glazed over with lust, looking like the fucking personification of sex. Matty’s eyes light up when he nods, blinking slowly as his hands settle on his stomach, leaving Matty to do all the work for him. You can tell how much he loves the idea of finishing on Matty’s face, the thought messing with him much more than he lets on. But you know, and he knows you know. 

It doesn't take anything but a few jerks of his cock and Matty batting his lashes, looking up at him with that eager, fucked out expression on his face that could make anyone give in to him to make George spill all over his face, painting his features with thick ropes of cum. George shudders violently, bucking his hips into Matty’s hand as he works him through his orgasm, sticking his tongue out to fuck with him even more. 

You don't stop pounding into Matty, not even for a second, the bed shaking with the sheer force of your thrusts as Matty’s moans and whimpers go unmuffled. “M’so close, fuck, please darling, fuck me harder.” George sees him genuinely tear up, bringing his hand up to cup his face sweetly, wiping away stray tears as a wanton moan spills from his lips. 

“Jesus christ, he’s–” you don't even let him finish, nodding in agreement as Matty presses his cheek into George’s hand, his please borderline incoherent by now.

“Fucking wet dream, isn’t he? Can never get used to how sweet he sounds, can I, baby?” Matty nods violently, his cock twitching and leaking precum, and you know he’s never been more ready to cum in his life. Yet, he knows he can’t, not until you allow him to. 

“Pleasepleaseplease, oh god m’gonna cum, please George–” Matty uses the last of his strength to beg the one person who he knows would let him, tears rolling down his cheeks, mascara and eyeshadow mixing with his smeared lipstick as he begs for permission

“Go on doll, cum for us. I know how bad you want to, yeah? Fucking soak our sheets.” George speaks slowly, his voice rough and strong, a flash of dominance coursing through his veins right in that moment. 

Matty cums, hard, writhing against the mattress, legs shaking while George's hand soothingly runs through his messed up hair, the touch comforting as his orgasm washes over him in violent, almost forceful waves. 

“Look so beautiful Matty, just let go, let it all out, baby.” 

You swear he’s never looked this good in your life, having taken absolutely everything you’ve given to him with an obedient nod and an eager expression, holding off until he’s made both you and George cum. You stroke his back lovingly as he goes limp against the bed, breathing heavy, his small sounds of pleasure as you pull out making you smile. 

George whispers unintelligible praise, making sure he knows how good he had been for both of you, how absolutely loved he is. 

“I love you so much baby, did so well for us.” you say, your tone loving and soft, peppering kisses down his spine as you slip off the harness, discarding it somewhere behind you. Matty nods weakly into George’s thigh, muttering a small “love you too,” back at you. 

“Gotta get up for us, doll, need to clean you up.” Matty groans in protest to Georges implication that he should move, eventually giving in at the promise of a more comfortable, less wet sleep. You get up to get tissues, wiping the cum off his face with a giggle, earning an amused chuckle from George, who is holding Matty against his chest, stroking his hair and kissing his shoulders lovingly, showering him with the affection he most definitely deserves. 

“Sleep?” Matty whispers quietly, evidently tired and half asleep already, his head resting against George’s shoulder. You nod, guiding his frame to lay down between you and George, letting your arm drape over him comfortingly. 

“You were so amazing Matty, we’re both so, so proud of you.” Matty, now slightly more coherent, offers a cheeky “Yeah I know that, fucking look at the state of me.”  

George lets out a girlish giggle at his words, wrapping his arm around his waist, letting Matty slowly drift off into sleep, absolutely exhausted and rightfully so, given the relentless teasing and torture you had put to poor boy through. He loved it though, and reassures you of that every chance he gets

You make eye contact with him one last time, George mouthing a barely audible “I love you,” shutting his eyes just in time to miss the massive, stupid grin plastered on your face. 

Their soft snoring and the heat of their bodies beside you lulls you into a deep, comfortable sleep, peacefully surrounded by the two people you love most.