#had the above train of thought while waiting

[crazycat010]

Watch where you're going idiot!

Hi! This is one of my first times posting and English is not my first language, but I hope you like it!

bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

IN WHICH: an unfortunate series of events leads to you befriending the infamous Bakugou Katsuki.

fluff, a teensy bit of angst, comical reader (could also be seen as Gender Neutral reader though there's talk about longish hair and only one reference to breasts)

word count: 1,993 words

To say you were mad was an understatement. Oh no, you were absolutely, utterly furious, and you were this close 🤏to showing your best friend, or what you at least thought Ibara Shiozaki was until this precise morning, what your quirk was capable of.

It was a seemingly normal Tuesday; as usual, you woke up five minutes before your alarm was supposed to go off, went on a morning run around campus and took a shower.

A gentle breeze had eased you through the half an hour run, putting your mind at ease and helping you relax even more than your routine usually did.

Coming back to your shared dorm, you had noticed something was off upon realizing your roommate and best friend Ibara was already up and going, dressing herself while suspiciously turning her back on you, when you always had to wake her up at last so you both could show up to class in time after the ordinary rush to whichever classroom you had been assigned to.

Shrugging it off, you quickly got undressed and into the small shower of your shared bathroom. Oblivious to your roommates prank, you didn’t realize, as you poured your shampoo in your left hand’s palm with your eyes closed, while humming along to a song that had particularly been stuck in your head, that said product’s color had drastically changed from a milky white to a deep fucsia.

It had been a total shocker to you, when, upon getting out of the shower and in front of the big rectangular mirror that stood inches above the sink, you saw your pitch black mid-back length straight hair, turned to a ridiculous pink color.

It’s not that you didn’t like pink, but nor did you love it, and it wasn’t in your Today’s Plans to get your fabulous healthy hair such a radical change in appearance.

With fiery eyes and filled with rage at inhuman levels, you dried your hair, realizing the tint wasn’t made to be washed out easily, and then put on your clean training suit, for today’s lesson was going to be the first one in which your class, 1st B, would have encountered the other section of heroes, 1st A and it mostly would’ve consisted in getting to know the others and only a couple of tests.

Right after locking your dorm, not fancying another prank from your classmates, you sped up the halls directed to the cafeteria, knowing exactly who the culprit was.

There started to be more and more students wandering off in the corridors. Nonetheless, all of those who even dared to look at you, backed away, terrorized and utterly terrified by your gaze and fuming state.

However, there was one of them who wouldn’t get easily scared, determined to put you back in place, yelling a: “Hey, watch where you’re going, idiot!” After you had so not-gracefully bumped into him and muttered through gritted teeth an unapologetic sorry, maintaining your pace the same as how you’d left the dorm.

Caught in your steps, you stopped moving, almost as a marble statue. Slowly, you turned your head to face the student who had also fixed his harsh gaze.

As you locked eyes, tension settled in the corridor and students started to watch cautiously but curiously your interaction, like you were two predators about to engage in a fight to earn a prey.

Your unmoving and irritated gaze met his with matching intensity and indignation, and for what felt minutes, you just stood there, analyzing each other and waiting for the other to make the first move.

You didn’t recognize him, but you were sure you had already seen him, perhaps in the halls.

He had spiked white hair and dark crimson eyes that you somehow felt you couldn’t glance away from. He was wearing the same suit as you, so he must’ve been one of the many hotheads from class 1A. Underneath the white and blue suit, you could easily take a look at his perfectly sculpted muscles.He didn’t exactly look like the kind of person you can forget ever meeting with.

Each word filled with rage and pausing after each of them, carefully evaluating what to say, you said: “What did you just say?”

Taking his time, he venomously spat back: “I said, watch where you’re going, idiot.”

You both stared at each other for what felt like ages, but were interrupted by a redhead with thin eyebrows and sharp features, much like the blondie, who chirped happily, unfazed by the tension between you two: “Hey Bakubro. Finally I found you! C’mon, we gotta make it to class in time for the morning assembly before meeting the kids from class 1B!”

Dragging him by the arm, the redhead got the blondie out of the sticky situation, tagging along those who I thought were the rest of they’re classmates.

Inside the cafeteria, the daily chaos made it hard for you to search your prankster, so you decided to grab one of the many pastries and head to your classroom, as you were already running late for your assembly.

In the classroom, you found all your classmates already seated while your homeroom teacher, Sekijiro Kan, was going through today’s events.

Apologising for being late, you headed to your usual seat in the back of the classroom. Thankfully, your friends had noticed not only your change in appearance, but also your switch of demeanor, and didn’t dare point  each of them out, scared for their own lives.

After Sekijiro finished listing what you were going to do and resorting to maintain an appropriate behavior, you all lined up and went outside to the track field, where the other class had already arrived.

While walking, you made sure to keep an eye on Ibara and eventually caught up with her. Feeling your presence, she offered a sly smile, readying herself for a scolding with the capital S.

“What the hell did you think you were doing!” You hissed at her.

“Geez, sorry! Calm down, I didn’t think you’d take it that bad.” She said in response.

“Didn’t think I’d take it THAT bad! Are you out of your freaking mind? You knew we had the meet up with class 1A today!” You spat back, gaining unwanted attention from those around you.

“I repeat, we are to maintain an adequate behavior and not make ourselves known in a negative way, am I right, miss Y/LN?” Scolded you your professor.

“I apologize  professor. I won’t be caught off guard again.” You pronounced in an assertive term.

“And miss Shiozaki?” Added the professor.

“Y-Yeah same.” Ibara was quick to tag along, facing the floor in a desperate attempt not to laugh at her devilish making.

Finally, you reached the other class and soon the professors started by introducing themselves. However, it was mostly your professor Sekijiro Kan who did the talking while Shota Aizawa kept nodding absent-mindedly.

After going through the day’s activities (again?! C’mon man, it was like the third time this morning, even the walls had understood what we were going to do!), the professors guided you through the training fields, making mixed teams of four that were going to compete against each other in the tests.

You were teamed up with your classmate Neito Monoma (thanks to Ibara’s luck you two hadn’t been teamed up together and you wouldn’t get the chance to strangle her once the professors were far away enough) and two guys from class 1B named Minoru Mineta and Denki kaminari.

You were actually happy to be with Monoma, other than being pretty handsome, he was one of the most intelligent and kind souls you had ever met and you often hung out with him whenever you weren’t with your usual group, consisting of Ibara Shiozaki also known as Vine, Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu AKA Real Steel and Juno Honenuki AKA Mudman.

Even though he could be rather mocking, loud, and sarcastic with Class 1-A and provocative in battle, he was also able to keep calm at difficult times. All in all, he was one of your most reliable classmates and his Copy Quirk had turned out to be very useful in battle.

Although you were kinda sad you hadn’t ended up with another girl, this Denki, who had an electricity based Quirk as he had told you, seemed a pretty chill and easygoing dude.

Now the major problem was the other guy, Mineta. He was tiny, resembling a kid, but boy was he a perv! Like, goodness gracious, ever since you all had teamed up together he hadn’t stopped staring at your breasts making you feel rather annoyed and repulsed and getting on your nerves.

While your team decided which strategies you were going to use, you found yourself staring at a certain blondie. Having calmed down, you were starting to feel sorry for how you’d reacted that morning (nonetheless, he was still kind of an asshole. I mean, he’s the one who started it after all!) and morally obliged to apologize.

You had obviously kept concentrated throughout all the events, yet in the back of your mind a small voice kept remembering you you needed to apologize to a certain someone. So after you had completed the morning program and were headed to the cafeteria to have lunch (together?! 1st A and 1st B together, eating in peace?! Were your professors out of their flipping minds?!), you looked around and then quite literally ran after the blondie to catch up with him.

Seeing as he wasn’t talking to anybody in particular and had basically isolated himself from the rest of the group, you took that as a sign and started straight up talking to him before he could’ve even noticed your presence (to be honest, you were a small bit afraid he wouldn’t have wanted to listen to you and would’ve just gotten away without giving you the possibility or redeeming yourself).

“Heyy, soooo…I think we started off on the wrong foot…Name’s Y/N” You said, sticking out your hand to him as he turned to face you, his face blank and emotionless as ever.

He scoffed, unmoved by your apology yet not able to take his eyes off your figure, curious of the vibrant pink tint that marked your hair in a not-elegant but still attractive way.

“C’mon man, I’m trying to be nice!” You whined, dropping your shoulders in an overly dramatical and childish way, trying to get him to break character.

As he took another glance at you, you noticed how his frown had turned in an attempt to hide the growing smile that you were firm would adorn his masculine features in a sexily adorable way.

“Ha, I knew I’d be able to get a smile out of you, mister Grumpy” You said in a mocking but light-hearted way, throwing your arm over his shoulder while trying to lock eyes with him. He tried in vain to hide himself from you, unable to hide the smile that spread on his cheeks and scoffing in a friendly manner, playfully shoving you, to which you dramatically fell onto the ground, speaking with a hoarse tone to imitate those overly dramatical scenes from the movies Ibara made you watch over and over. “Tell m-my parents…” You gasped dramatically, pausing in between sentence: “T-Tell them I l-loved them” Closing your eyes and sticking out your tongue in a laughable attempt to play dead.

Soon enough, he sticked his hand out for you to grab, pulling you up with a fairly decent amount of strength and then sticking his hand out to actually shake yours for once.

“Name’s Bakugo, weirdo.” He said, locking yet again eyes with yours with a smirk on his face.

Oh how you knew it was going to be the start of a wonderful friendship…or maybe even more?…

Thank you for reading. I hope you liked it. You're welcome to come check out my account and my other posts and/or make requests :) Do NOT plagiarize this or any of my content.

Do you think I should make a part 2?

Love you guys! See you soon!😘

Written by crazycat010 © 2025 crazycat010

[hunters-vigil]

Her Champion - Mavuika x Kinich's older sister!Reader - Part Four

First Part Previous Part

request: do you think maybe you can do another one which talks about how the reader is Kinich’s older sister and having an affair with Mavuika?

Warnings: Warnings: mentions of R's and Kinich's childhood (Kinich's lore), fighting, violence, suspicious looking positions, guns (Chasca's weapon), R thinks Mavuika is trying to proposition/make sexual advancements but Mavuika isn't, implied past abuse to R - Mavuika figures out something happened in the past.

Fic under the cut, don't repost my stuff on other platforms, i have ao3 which my fics are also available on.

Mavuika wanted to know more about you. She couldn't ask Kinich easily, he would ask why, and that would be too difficult to explain. Not to mention the possible cost of such personal information… No, her best bet was during the next spar against you, but she needed to consider it more. How long until you lost interest in sparring with her? Did you only agree to a second one because you felt like you had to?

You felt so mysterious to her, so many layers she wished to unravel, how her fingers ached to gently touch your cheek, how her eyes lingered on your scar- the questions in her mind. How did you get it? What happened to make you and Kinich the way you both are?

This wasn't relevant to her duty to Natlan at all…

Mavuika shook her head, clearing the thoughts from her mind as she went back to looking over the paperwork that had been recently submitted to the Speaker's Chamber.

The thoughts Mavuika was having, she should not be having them, not when she knew her duty and where her destiny led. Where her life would lead up to…

Sparring with you would count as training for you both. That's how she could answer anyone who questioned her.

///

Your brother had friends. That was evident each time someone came to check on him. There was the happy ocean girl, Mualani, the timid girl who loved the rock you gave her, Kachina, that saurian-vet guy who Ajaw called a quack, Ifa, and a adolescent qucusaurus he brought with him, Cacucu. You liked Ifa immediately after hearing Ajaw while, Mualani being a little too boisterous for your tastes, and Kachina… she gave you pause, would you be more like her if you had healthy childhood?

You were unaware that there was also another girl until she arrived from the sky, staring down at you until you spotted her. Flying on a giant gun of all things, which so happened to be pointing at you when you looked up. Chasca quirked an eyebrow as you were quick to aim your weapon at her, cryo energy swirling around your body.

"We seem to have got off on the wrong foot, I'm looking for Kinich." The girl announced, but that wasn't enough as the cryo energy continued to swirl.

"I'm Chasca, Flower-Feather Clan. We've fought together in the Night Warden Wars? Fine. I didn't come here to fight, but if it's a fight you want…" Chasca stated, as you stared at her, waiting, "are you going to introduce yourself, or do I tell Kinich I fought a stranger in his front garden?"

"You tell Kinich," you jumped up into the air, sending icicles after Chasca, "his sister kicked your ass!"

"Sister, huh?" Chasca flew out of the way easily, unbothered by your attack, but that fury coming from you, it reminded her of someone, "you'll have to reach me first-"

You reminded Chasca of herself, especially when she was younger.

"Must you fight above the pplot of embercore flowers?" Kinich deadpanned as he arrived, while Ajaw took a different approach.

"Fight! Fight! Fight! Tear her eyes out!"

Chasca turned her head to acknowledge your brother, which was a mistake. She began to lower her flying gun closer to the ground as she saw him, low enough that with enough of a run-up, you tackled her off of it. The gun landed in the landing in the flowerbed embercores, while you two landed in the bed of sweet flowers, with you on top of her.

"Bite her thoat!" Ajaw screeched, but you only stared down at Chasca with a cold glare, her hands stuck as you clamped yours down on her wrists, your weight pressing down on her thighs to try keep her still. Kinich was quick to put Ajaw into a timeout after that, whacking him flying before he approached slowly.

"You know the longer you keep her there, the more you'll have to make it up to her." Kinich stated, unbothered at you straddling Chasca, while she raised an eyebrow, watching how you seemed to think it over, let out a grumbly sigh, then quickly scrambled off of her.

"You going to explain what just happened?" Chasca turned to your brother, who watched as you disappeared further into the mountains.

"You're lucky you didn't try flip her, or you would be a popsicle right now. My sister doesn't take kindly to things being pointed in her face…" Kinich let out an uncharacteristically tired sigh, "thank you for not attacking her."

"Well, I'd say she started it, but- I didn't know you had a sister." Chasca changed her train of thought, her eyes trained on Kinich as he stared at her.

"It never came up. Most people have met her by turning up here looking for me. That includes Mualani and Kachina." Kinich stated, folding his arms, "what was it you came here for, Chasca?"

///

Meanwhile, you could feel the heat of embarrassment flooding your body, your feet carrying you away, eventually up a tree with enough cover for you to hide in peace. Something about the gun pointing at you from above, sent you into fight or flight mode… how in the abyss were you supposed to make it right with her? What was her name again? Chasca, Chasca… oh.

The Night Warden Wars…

"Xilonen? Are you up there?" The Archon's voice snapped you out of your haze, carefully peeking over to spot the sunglasses-clad fiery woman looking up at you, her face melting into some expression you didn't understand as you met her eyes.

"I wasn't expecting to see you today." Mavuika beamed, not even bothering to take off her sunglasses as she began to climb the tree, eventually face to face with you, "are you alright? You look… frazzled."

"Frazzled?" your eyebrows crinkled together in a way that Mavuika, if she was a wide eyed giddy teenager again, would call cute… Luckily Mavuika's sunglasses hid that expression, schooling her face before putting her sunglasses away properly.

"Anyway, I was looking for Xilonen, I wanted to talk to her about a new upgrade for Flamestrider, my motorbike, can you see it down there?" Mavuika smiled as your eyes eventually followed where she was pointing, spotting the strange machine on the ground nearby.

"I'm not the weapon forger." You deadpanned, not understanding why Mavuika was smiling so much.

"I know you're not, but that doesn't mean I can't spend time with you… we need to schedule our next spar, and maybe some other activities-"

"Other activities? I'm not- am I allowed to refuse? I know you are the Archon…" Your voice trembled, eyes widening as Mavuika looked momentarily confused, before realising what you thought she was trying to ask for.

"Uh, not that, wow, uh, let me take you to dinner first at least." Mavuika's eyes widened, spotting how your arms wrapped around your torso almost to hide your body from her, even though your clothes were there…

"I'm not good company." You brushed her off, directing your attention to the soil that was on your clothes, reminding you of what you did.

"What happened?" Mavuika's eyes trailed down your legs, holding back from reaching out to touch you as you shifted uncomfortably.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I care-" Mavuika began, but your eyes were cold as you met her warm ones.

"We sparred together once." You deadpanned, reminding her momentarily of Kinich, but your voice held a bit more… confusion in it. Did you really not see the interest you held?

"And I'd like to do it again. I happen to think you're rather interesting." Mavuika smiled, about to nudge you with her elbow, but you stared at her arm confusedly, moving away from it almost unconsciously.

"The appeal will wear off quickly, then you'll go back to your duties and… tracking down Xilonen." You waved her off, but it was only making Mavuika more determined.

"I happen to be quite stubborn, just ask Xilonen. I know she crafted your weapon for you too." Mavuika smiled, before it slowly disappeared into a frown, "do I make you uncomfortable?"

"You confuse me," you let out a sigh, avoiding Mavuika's gaze as you tried to figure out the words, "Chasca visited home, looking for Kinich. She flew in on that giant gun, looming over me. I… I'm not good company. I should go."

Mavuika caught your shoulder before you could climb out of the tree, but the panicked look on your face had her let go quickly.

"Who hurt you?" the fire in her burned brightly as you looked back at her for a moment, your gaze icy as you gave no emotion back to her as you left with only parting words.

"Who didn't?"

[bookshelf-in-progress]

I've had an odd nostalgia for the Once Upon a Time series of mediocre short-novel-length fairy tale retellings. I've been wanting to read the retelling of "East of the Sun, West of the Moon" from that line.

The trouble is that there is no such book.

Which makes me want to write it.

Unfortunately, the only straightforward traditional retelling of that fairy tale I want to write doesn't fit with that style.

But thinking about it got me excited about that old idea all over again.

[yueebby]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

synopsis. period piece, forbidden love

contents. ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior (5k words of gojo pining), lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips

notes. inspired by the apothecary diaries and this post. loosely based off of ancient japan (this is basically its own world). this is the prologue to the series where everything can generally be read as a standalone ! (fic under the cut)

series masterlist | next

emperor!gojo who broke a hundred year tradition to take you as his only lover. despite your role as a concubine, everyone in the imperial palace knew he was going to make you his empress.

emperor!gojo who had not meant to fall in love with you, but you have managed to somehow charm him. a man that single handedly brought his own clan to power– weak in your hands. hushed whispers around the imperial palace call you a witch, but they never reach your ears. not as long as he is alive.

emperor!gojo shamelessly showering you with love. he pays no mind that it is highly frowned upon, he will have his hands on you every time you are in the same room.

emperor!gojo who is livid when there is an attempt on your life. his usual ocean eyes turned to blue flames like a wild animal. servants and clan elders alike scurry under his gaze. the assailant is taken care of by his own hands. 

emperor!gojo who is forced to satiate the clan elders into submission by taking in another concubine from an influential clan. he insists to you that it is no more than a political formality. who are you to meddle into imperial affairs?

emperor!gojo who can’t help himself and ends up falling for another girl who his clan elders demand he must wed. she is much younger than you, beautiful and is well bred; a perfect match for the emperor. 

emperor!gojo whose frequent visits to you come to an end, forcing you to move from his chambers and back to the consorts’ pavilion.

There was a time when you had everything. A place to call home in the Inner Court, a beautiful palace with anything you could have ever dreamed of. Servants, admirers, riches; you had it all. But what was most dear to you was your lover– a man so divine, many thought he was directly blessed by the hand of God. It was too good to be true. A woman of lowly birth like you, paid as homage for the sins of her clan against the new reigning family of Japan, becoming a concubine of the Heavenly Emperor. 

You remembered it all too well.

His brilliant mind that once strategized the downfall of the previous imperial family, calculating its next move in a game of Go against you. You can still remember the shock on his face upon his first defeat. The way he would keep you from leaving to fulfill your other duties until he was satisfied, eyebrows furrowing as he struggled to keep up with you. No matter how hard he tried, you remained victorious. It drove him mad.

You remembered the stolen kisses while you made your rounds in the Inner Palace with your ladies in waiting. It took you quite a while to learn to tune out their giggles every time the Emperor dips you down to taste your lips in broad daylight. The grin that he wore after was enough to leave your legs weak.

Above all, you'll always remember how safe you felt in his strong, reassuring embrace. You’ve seen him train, and it was no wonder the Gojo clan rose to power so quickly as a result of one man. The way he wields the katana is unlike any man on the face of the earth. Those arms were your sanctuary. You can still vividly recall the attempt on your life, orchestrated by a traditionalist incensed by the Gojo clan's swift ascent to power. The emperor, outraged by the assassination plot, personally saw to the man's execution. 

However, the damage was done and it caused great strain in the Imperial Palace.

To appease the old geezers that were forced out of power, Emperor Gojo had taken in another concubine from one of the Big Three families of Japan— a beautiful Zenin girl. Her flowing, silky hair and saccharine voice enchanted everyone in the Inner Palace, captivating the Emperor, most of all. She was younger than you, with perkier breasts and soft skin that was enough to capture the attention of any man. 

You don’t blame her for taking the Emperor’s attention away. Though you would be a liar if you said it did not hurt you. Deep down, you cannot deny the agony that sears your soul, realizing that the only semblance of love you've ever tasted remains unrequited. With a heavy heart, you resign yourself to the bitter truth of your existence, knowing all too well the cruel confines of your place in this world.

You were merely a pawn, and the Emperor did not want you anymore.

That was made clear months later when you received a scroll from the Emperor’s advisor, a man you were once well acquainted with, Geto Suguru. 

“What is this?” You asked him quietly, your heart silently begging the Heavens it was not what you had suspected it to be. The black haired man in front of you does not respond, and you feel something pierce into your heart. Despite being a part of the Emperor’s court, it was rare that you received letters directly.

Your suspicions were confirmed when your shaky hands finally opened the scroll to read the familiar kanji written by your beloved.

“The Emperor decrees the termination of your role as concubine." Geto spares you the trouble of deciphering the characters neatly written in ink. “In his mercy, you are to be moved as a servant in the Outer Court. You are to serve the Imperial Physician.”

What you remember most was the silence. The Emperor’s silence after the stressful months you had to endure alone. The silence shared between you and Geto when you were forced out of the Imperial Court. All that was left was the sound of your heart breaking and the wood creaking underneath Geto’s feet as he walked away. Satoru never bothered to see you off.

Seasons change and by the next spring, you’re busying your hands with collecting herbs for the Imperial Physician, a man by the name of Yaga Masamichi. He is a kind man, pitying you enough to fill your days with laborious tasks to prevent your mind from wandering to thoughts of the unfortunate turn your life has taken. He is even generous enough to supply you with a new wardrobe of clothing full of light fabrics, a luxury you thought you would lose in the Outer Palace. Though the initial humiliation has worn off with the passing of time, you are still constantly reminded of your fall from grace.

Looks by the mix of condolences and disgust are shared when you roam the walls of the Outer Palace. You hear whispers of how the Emperor is infatuated with his newer, shinier toy. It is enough for you to swallow the bile that makes its way up your throat. 

“It is no wonder the Emperor tossed away a wildflower like her in exchange for a cherry blossom. He needed someone to rival his own greatness.” A particular comment stopped you in your tracks. Your grip tightens on the woven basket in your hand filled with medicinal herbs you had collected earlier that morning. 

“Have some pity on her.” Another eunuch whispers. Your breath falters, but you continue your walk with your head held up. You’ve heard the rumors. The beautiful Zenin Himiko has charmed the Emperor enough that there are rumors of a royal marriage to come. It doesn’t help that the Emperor has remained monogamous to her since he had banished you from his court.

A comforting hand links itself with your arm, “Ignore them. I saw Yaga shooing away a crowd of suitors that were lined up for your hand.” Ieiri Shoko scoffs, secretly sending you a wink. She has been studying medicine under Yaga for nearly a decade, eagerly accepting you as a companion upon your arrival. You feel your cheeks heat up at her flattery. You know she’s just trying to make you feel better.

Although your beauty never faded, it seems as though you are no longer sought after in the marriage market. Not that it matters, considering the new life that you’re living. You’re now a personal servant to the Imperial Physician, leaving no time to worry about suitors and such. Your days are filled with good work— tending to Yaga’s cherished garden that he has sowed for decades rather than frivolous games and attending the Emperor. It may not be glorious compared to your former life, but it was the best a woman of your status could receive. 

When you and Shoko return to Yaga’s estate, you’re surprised to see the somber look that has settled on his aging features. Shoko makes an offhand comment that he will age faster if he keeps scowling. She receives a scolding.

“Is something the matter?” You gently place down your basket full of herbs. 

Yaga sighs, calloused hands rolling up a scroll with the Imperial Seal. “It appears the Emperor’s consort has fallen ill and His Majesty commands my presence in the Imperial Palace.” 

The Royal Consort. The woman that dethroned you: Zenin Himiko.

“I understand.” You nod, maintaining your composure while two sets of eyes scrutinize you with keen observation. It was only natural the emperor wanted the best doctor in the country for his object of affection. “Shall I close up the shop while you journey into the Inner Palace?” 

Yaga shakes his head, “That won’t be necessary. I will have Shoko act as my stand-in.” He remarks with a quick glance in her direction “You, on the other hand, will accompany me.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“You cannot be serious.”

“Typically, one of my apprentices would accompany me on such journeys. However, now that I have acquired a personal attendant,” He gestures towards you with a flick of his hand, “It shall no longer be necessary.” As he speaks, he runs his hand absentmindedly through his well trimmed beard, gaging your reaction.

"I—" Your words falter and fade away. "Yes, sir," you respond, inclining your head in deference, a stark reminder of your place. While you may have concealed it, you were seething with humiliation. Returning to the Imperial Palace after a year of exile to serve the woman who took your spot was mortifying beyond measure.

“Very well. Pack enough for one week’s time. I doubt the Emperor would have called me if this was a light ailment.” He says gruffly. “We leave at dawn.” His gaze shifted to the horizon outside.

1 YEAR AGO

“Your Grace,” You purr at the feeling of his large hands scratching your head. 

The smile that rests on his face is almost ravenous. “Yes, my love?”

“I think—“ A soft sigh escapes your lips when he presses on your weak points. “I should g-go.”

His ministrations stop almost immediately. 

“Go?” His eyes peer down at you in his lap. It is now that you realize the weight of his piercing gaze. “Have I commanded you to leave yet?”

“No, but—”

“Then you have nowhere else to be.” He huffs, unintentionally puffing his cheeks out. You stifle the giggle that nearly escapes from your lips. He vaguely resembles a pufferfish– or so you think. Though you’ve never seen the round creature with your very own eyes, you’ve heard that the delicacy was something only members of the aristocratic class would feast on. 

Your mouth waters at the thought.

“What are you thinking about that could possibly be so important? Keep your eyes on me,” A strong hand squishes your cheeks together and firmly guides your face back upon him. 

You should be embarrassed; ashamed at the intimate position His Majesty has trapped you in. The way your head is tucked away in his lap as he peers down at you, nothing to shield you away from him. It was incredibly scandalous, considering that you were an unmarried woman! But it seemed like the Emperor had taken no mind towards it. You would even dare to say that he was enjoying it, with the way his lips quirk upward at the sight of you squirming. 

“Your Grace,” You repeat, determined to free yourself from his hold. His eyebrows furrow.

“Satoru,” He reminds you. You purse your lips. The position you hold in his court is simply not high enough to grant you the privilege of calling him by his given name.

“Your Grace,” You try again, the title rolling off of your tongue naturally. A man like him did not deserve any title less than.

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart. Indulge a man, won’t you?” He pouts down at you. As stubborn as ever, you don’t relent.

“I would be overstepping my boundaries as your consort to call you as such. That privilege is reserved for your future bride.” You take advantage of his guard let down to sit up and escape his hold. If he could have caught you, he made no effort.

“I am a simple man.” He follows you to your vanity. A giggle escapes your mouth. He is anything but. “I want my love to call me by my name.” 

You turn around to cup his cheek. He eagerly leans into your touch, sighing happily at the contact.

“I wonder how Lord Kento and Geto would react to you like this.” You tease, a smile unknowingly painting itself on your lips. 

Satoru’s face falls, features morphing into an appalled expression. You watch him close the distance between you through the mirror.

“Kento?” His voice had a dangerous lilt in it. You blink, unsure what spurred on the sudden tension in the room. “Since when were you so comfortable around him? He cannot satisfy you like I can.” He reminds you of the man’s castrated state as an eunuch. You wince.

“I have not gotten comfortable,” You’re careful to pick your words. Gojo’s possessiveness was something that was not easily tamed. “He simply provides good conversation while you are away.The palace is far too big and lonely while you’re away dealing with clan matters.” 

The only response you get is a quiet grumble. “You’re lucky that you’re pretty.” His large hand creeps its way into your hair again, undoing the hairstyle your ladies in waiting had spent a copious amount of time on earlier that morning. Gojo carefully plucks the extravagant silver hairpin from your hair, the dangling pearls clicking softly at the sudden movement.  His hands slowly make their way down to the kimono that you are wearing, hands ready to undo the obi.

Your hands softly hover his, “I fear that our roles have been reversed. Should it not be me who gets you unready, Your Grace?”

He chuckles and through the mirror you can see a smirk make his way to his lips, “I’d let you undress me any day. Just say the word, beloved.” 

You roll your eyes, but allow him to continue. It was moments like these with the Emperor that led you on to believe that there was a semblance of love between the two of you. 

How wrong you were.

PRESENT DAY

The sun has yet to meet the horizon when you arrive at the Inner Palace. The horse-drawn carriage that you and Yaga had taken is the only sound at the scene, clopping down the stone road and back to the Inner Court. You miss the serenity of the beautiful palace you once resided in, knowing that it will be bustling with life in just a few short hours.

In front of the large doors of the primary ceremonial hall where the Emperor spends most of his time, stands Lord Nanami, a counsellor to the Emperor himself. Time has only made his face sterner, but his neatly styled hair and blue and yellow dyed court attire remained the same. He waits patiently while you and Yaga make your way up the flight up stairs that lead up to the hall.

“I am glad to see you in good health, Yaga.” Nanami bows. 

The man next to you promptly waves his politeness off, thanking him for his hospitality. You stand silently while the two men engage in conversation regally.

Lord Nanami sighs, “His Majesty has been plagued by stress lately. To say I am relieved by your presence would be an understatement.” His statement is a subtle reminder that you must harden your heart upon entering the palace walls. The meticulously built walls were no longer a sanctuary for you, rather, a painful testament that you were no longer wanted. 

Yaga lets out a hearty laugh and it reveals a rare sight, Lord Nanami’s lips curving upwards by a slight. “I highly doubt the boy would be glad to see me. The appearance of the Imperial Physician is portentous.” He scratches his beard. You tilt your head in confusion at how he referred to the Emperor.

“I suppose, yet I am intrigued to find out how he will react upon seeing his object of affection flourishing anew despite the sting of frost.” Nanami audibly wonders. Even a fool could understand his eloquent comparison. The Emperor would be thrilled to see his consort in full bloom once again. You pray that the Heavens would grant you some mercy from witnessing such a scene.

“Youth,” Yaga shakes his head, chuckling to himself before regaining composure. “I mustn't keep the Emperor waiting. [Name], please gather the herbal ingredients to treat the young Consort as you seem fit. I shall confer with His Majesty and meet you in her chambers to declare a proper diagnosis.”

You bow, “Yes sir.”

While Yaga prepares to enter the doors where The Heavenly Emperor resides, your eyes couldn’t help but gaze longingly at the large bronze doors. 

“You seem well,” Nanami addresses you for the first time in over a year. Your eyes trail from the Emperor’s door to the blonde man in front of you. “Allow me to guide you to our herbal stock.” Nanami offers you his arm as you start to make your way down the stairs. 

You take it, lightly holding his arm.  “Thank you, Lord Nanami. Time away from the Inner Palace has been like a breath of fresh air,” You respond, ensuring your voice carries no malice. You hear the large palace doors from behind you open, the metal creaking loudly in the quiet dawn. 

“I must ask you to call me Kento,” He leads you down the stone steps. “We are old friends, it is strange to hear anything but.” 

You focus on your steps down the stairs, only responding once your feet meet the solid ground, “I fear that our social statuses have changed since then. It would be the cause of a scandal should anyone hear I am calling the Imperial Counselor by his given name. Your admirers would have my head on a stick.”

“Your imagination is amusing as always, [Name].” He gives you a closed eyes smile. You huff.

“I am only speaking the truth!” You insist. He chuckles.

“It is quite refreshing to see both you and Yaga again. I’m not sure how long it has been since I have been at the imperial physician.” 

You gape at his confession. “You mustn't skip your annual visits to the physician, Kento. It is in the best interest of your health!” You lightly scold him, lifting your hand to flick his forehead. It was a force of habit. “Perhaps if I have time after treating the Consort, I shall do a check up on you.”

Nanami clears his throat at your comment, the twinkle in his eyes dissipating as if your direct touch had burned him. 

“I would rather not lose my head.” He mumbles, eyes scanning the courtyard around the two of you. You knit your eyebrows, confused.

Nanami leaves you to fulfill his duties once you arrive at the Royal Kitchens to retrieve all the necessary items to treat Consort Himiko. You are glad that he did not accompany you into the kitchens to prepare Consort Himiko’s herbal soup. 

The memory of it still irks you.

“You’re late,” One of Consort Himiko’s ladies in waiting snaps just as you enter the kitchen. You look up to see a young girl, dressed in a light purple kimono. It must be Himiko’s signature, you note. It was strange to see someone outside of the Imperial family donning the color, but you suppose it was only a grand display of Himiko’s influence.

“You’re a lot more plain than I anticipated,” The other lady in waiting quirks an eyebrow, eyeing your appearance. You furrow your eyebrows, shocked by their rudeness.Their undying loyalty to their Lady was enough to fuel an unspoken hatred for you. Though you’re not sure that the two coincide, you don’t blame them.

The two are mixing a concoction that you don’t recognize to be used to treat the sick. The taller one adds some aromatics and herbs in and you see the other one unwrap a cloth to reveal a rare delicacy from the West. Cocoa, you believed they called it. 

Then it hits you– the two are not making a medicinal soup for their Lady, rather they are making an aphrodisiac! The image that conjures in your head makes you blanch. Back in the Outer Palace, Shoko had shown you the effects of the stimulant (you shiver at the memory of her shoving a treat laced with it into your mouth). It was certainly a night to remember.

“How pathetic,” You mutter underneath your breath, quickly rushing to obtain the ingredients you needed without making conversation with the two girls.

Fortunately, they pay you no further attention for the time you’re in the kitchen.

“Please excuse me,” You bow upon entering the Emperor’s chambers. Despite the Consort’s Pavilion being similar in size to a small town, you remember spending most of your time in the Emperor’s chambers rather than your own. It was probably the same case with Consort Himiko. You slowly place the tray carrying broth and medicinal herbs to treat the Consort down on the circular wooden table in the middle of the room.

Out of curiosity, your eyes can’t help but soak in the Emperor’s room. Not much has changed since you’ve left. His Majesty’s preference for minimalist decorations have stayed the same, along with his natural musk that fills your nose. You feel your face heat up at your own thoughts. How could you think of such a thing when you are about to meet his new lover?

Your gaze moves to his bed, where Consort Himiko resides– only to find nothing.

“Huh?” 

You observe his bed, silk sheets neatly made, seemingly untouched. The sounds of your sock clad feet patter on the wooden floor as you make your way to feel the bedsheets for any signs of warmth, but you are met with nothing.

“Don’t you know that entering the Emperor’s chambers can be punishable by death?” A deep voice from behind you causes you to jump in your spot. 

Your guard is immediately raised, head whipping to the sound. In hindsight, you should have never agreed to accompany Yaga on his trip. It was a foolish idea all along, you think as all of the air in your lungs dissipates upon seeing your former lover. 

Standing at the entrance of his own sleeping quarters is Gojo Satoru, his frame big enough to tower over the doorway. His arms are crossed over each other, electric blue eyes focused on nothing else but you. You press your thighs together tightly to avoid squirming anymore than you are.  He has loosened his dark blue kimono to expose some of his hardened chest, a sight any woman in the nation would die to catch a glimpse.  Even underneath all of the fabric, anyone can see his divinely sculpted physique.

“Your Grace,” You waste no time to dip your body deeply, praying that he will allow you to keep your head by sunset. “I apologize for the intrusion, I was under the pretense that Consort Himiko resided in your quarters–” Your voice loses itself in your throat when you see his shadow quickly encroaching.

“Himiko stays in her Pavilion,” He towers over you, eyes gazing down on you. “But one might suspect that you already knew that.”

Your eyes frantically meet his feet, desperate to salvage what was left of your dignity, “I assure you that I speak of the truth, Your Majesty.”

When he doesn’t respond, you slowly lift your head.

The flustered look on your face must have been amusing to him, as he makes his way closer to you, bending down to interrogate you further.

“Is that so?” He hums, enjoying every second of cornering you into his chambers. The back of your legs have met his bed, trapping you. You inhale sharply, trying to keep your breaths even, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on you.

He continues, “You’re awfully skittish for someone who was happily skipping around my territory in the arms of another man just earlier.” His predatory gaze seems to darken. 

“Kento?” When his name leaves your lips, the man in front of you grits his teeth. You turn your head to the side, deliberately avoiding him. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, but I don’t see how Kento and I’s relationship is any of your concern,” He does not take your actions well, his gaze searing into you.

“It certainly is when the woman in question is you,” Gojo’s voice loses its feral lilt, distress flashing across his face. There’s a newfound desperation in it that chips away at your resolve. His hand raises to your face so slowly, as if he did not want to startle you.

“This is wrong. I– I saw a couple of servants earlier making aphrodisiacs, perhaps you could have unknowingly consumed them.” You tell him, frantic eyes meeting him. It is not unusual for couples to use aphrodisiacs, you know that after under Yaga. The Emperor must have mistaken the laced dessert for his usual. 

He shakes his head, running a hand through his white hair.

“You are mistaken. This is solely your effect on me.” He promises. You could barely believe his words, stuck between feeling offended or shocked.

“How could you stand to be so cruel?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. There are no tears in your eyes this time.  “I am not a courtesan you can buy for the night,” You snap, pointing a harsh finger to his chest. 

“What do you mean?” He sounds breathless.

“Whatever do I mean?” You scoff, a dry laugh escaping your mouth. “For a year, all I have gotten is pity from the world, because you decided I was no longer entertaining. You could have at least banished me away yourself. Instead, you sent Suguru who couldn’t even look me in the eye! Don’t you know how humiliating that is?” With every word that left your lips, more venom seemed to drip. Anger was prickling you all over, taking control of the rational part of you.

Gojo seemed to be taken aback by your outburst. It was far too late to take anything back now. If you lose your head by nightfall, so be it.

You dig a deeper grave for yourself when you take advantage of his moment of weakness to flee. He’s quick to react, attempting to grip your wrist.

“Wait, [Name], beloved–” He uses that all too familiar term of endearment, but it doesn't deter you.

You accidentally bump into the circular wooden table placed in the middle of the room. What an awful place to keep it, watching in horror as the Consort’s medicine shatters on the floor. To add salt to the wound, a vase you recognize to be specially gifted to the Emperor from a foreign nation tips off too before you can catch it. The sound of porcelain shattering fills the room.

“[Name]! Are you alright?” You hear Gojo ask from behind you, but you run over the broken shards before he can catch you.

Had you bothered to pay closer attention, you would have noticed articles of your clothing and a couple of your missing belongings littered all over the room– creating a faux impression that you never really left the palace.

Days passed by after the incident, and luckily, your head was still attached to your body despite offending and nearly endangering the Emperor. Yaga’s disappointment when you had told him what happened was made evident when he sent you home early after hearing the events that transpired, insisting that he can handle the Consort on his own. Normally you would have argued, but you knew better than to inflict Yaga’s wrath.

“Now you’ve really done it,” Shoko whistles lowly, walking in from the front of Yaga’s shop. 

You hide your face in your hands, “I made an absolute fool of myself, didn’t I?”

“A fool? No. A conspirator against the Emperor? Perhaps.” She dangles a scroll with a familiar seal on it. The Gojo Clan’s familiar emblem reflects off of the sunlight spilling into the room. Your heart drops.

“Oh, they’ll have my head.” You moan, hands instinctively lifting to shield your neck.

“Though I’m quite impressed that Yaga only sent you back here. He used to have worse punishments.” She shudders before impatiently unraveling the scroll. You watch her eyes gradually widen as they read the contents of the letter. The scroll falls from her hand.

You rush to it, desperate to read your fate.

To [Last Name] [First Name],

Greetings and prosperity unto you.

By the mandate of the heavens and the authority vested in Us, We hereby extend Our solemn words to you, [Last Name] [First Name], servant of the realm, in acknowledgement of your debt to the Empire.

In response to your unmeritorious deeds, The Emperor bestows upon you His imperial pardon from capital punishment. In consideration of your obligations and the harmony of the realm, it is hereby decreed that you shall serve as an indentured servant to the Imperial Household for a period commensurate with your debt. During this time, you shall labor faithfully and diligently under the supervision of Our Heavenly Emperor, performing duties essential to the welfare of the Empire.

By fulfilling your obligations with diligence and humility, you may yet earn favor and esteem in Our sight.

The Imperial Court

A loud gasp escapes your mouth.

You feel your legs weaken, your emotions running wild. Shoko’s eyes meet yours, mirroring your frantic gaze. In that moment, you are met with the same suffocating sense of hopelessness.

extra!

gojo was kicking his feet happily as he watched suguru draft out his letter to you. suguru thought it rather cruel, while the white haired male was too busy purring happily as he fantasized about having you back into his grasp.

[callsign-datura]

a/n: sorry for the long wait! 4.7k words, the result of my last poll, simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected p-in-v, creampie, hair-pulling, degradation, talking to the pussy

ghost didn't have many hobbies, but he did have a few he liked the most. His third favorite was being at the shooting range, his second favorite was cleaning his guns, and his first favorite was sparring.

he often sparred to ensure he wasn't getting rusty with certain hand-to-hand techniques. usually with soap, or gaz. late at night when he had energy to expel, or unwanted emotions to get out.

that's why he found himself in the gym, this time off the mat, wrapping his busted knuckles with bandages. he was dressed in gray sweats, a black wife-beater, and the mask. he flexed his fingers as he tucked the edge of the bandage beneath the edge of another at his wrist, bringing both arms above his head. he stretched, grunting quietly before letting his arms drop to his sides, squinting at the way the fluorescent lights made his head ache.

the door creaked open slowly. he tilted his head, watching you enter. you looked up and met his gaze, and he turned his head away and began wrapping his other hand with the same bandages.

you and ghost were cordial at the very least and hostile at the most. it wasn't that you got along-- sometimes his demeanor just pissed you off. so closed off, and for what? working with another person was better than working alone, to you, and you didn't understand why in the hell he was so rude to you.

you huffed under your breath, not expecting him to be in the gym so late. you watched his shoulders flex, the wife-beater a darker shade around his neck with the sweat that dampened it. he looked like he'd been hard at work for a few hours, the bandages around his knuckles tainted with a deep shade of red.

"what's the point of wrapping your hands after you've busted them on the bag?" you call, watching his shoulders shift a bit as he stops wrapping.

"i forgot to do it before." he retorts, not bothering to face you.

"didn't nurse sullivan tell you to do it before?" you put your hands on your hips. your tone is concerned, and partially, you are, but the other part of you is just looking to get on his nerves. you came here to train yourself, but messing with him seemed a bit more fun. "thought you'd remember what a nurse told you to do."

"didn't ask ya to remind me what sullivan said, i know what m'doin'." he finishes wrapping his other hand and goes back to the bag, getting into position and bringing his fists up. he starts throwing punches, the jangle of the chain and the thuds of his fists hitting the bag echoing in the room.

you approach him. "you know, sparring might be better than boxing." you offer, folding your arms behind your back as your gaze flickers over his stature. he's by no means a small man, and it's been a while since you've had the chance to spar with the other guys on base.

ghost's hands shoot out to still the bag, and his head tilts to the left. brown eyes peer at you from beneath the mask, and he huffs through his nose, looking you up and down. "tch. y'got a death wish? i've got a few inches on ya... not to mention pounds."

"i know you do. it'd be good training for me." you hum, looking to the side, then back to him. "for you too, maybe. having an agile opponent might be a bit challenging for someone so... lumbering."

"lumbering?" he asks, tilting his head as he turns to you completely. "and you... agile? got an ego, don't ya?" though he's excited at the prospect of sparring at all, so he's considering it.

you can tell you're piquing his interest, so you push it, ignoring the little jabs. "maybe a small one. sounds fun though, doesn't it? I heard it's been a while since you've got the chance."

he sighs. he feigns resignation, but there's a sparkle in his eye that you don't miss. he considers it for a few moments before he starts skulking in your direction. "you're gonna regret that," he huffs, stopping just short from you. "i've got some rules. one, you lose after i've pinned ya for 10 seconds. two, no dirty shots. i don't pull y'r hair, you don't kick me in the nuts. got it?"

he sounds so serious, you chuckle. "alright," you nod, agreeing to his terms. then you take your position on the furthest end of the mat while he takes position at the other end.

"ya ready?" he gruffs, and you nod, putting your fists up.

"alright then, you get the first shot."

"really?" you tilt your head, taking a few steps forward as you begin circling in the center of the mat.

"mm-hmm." he hums, rubbing his arms before putting his fists up. "wanna see what you can do."

you huff, then you go towards him, side-stepping and reaching out to grab his arm. you yanked on it, and he barely moved. he almost paused, somewhat amused that you even tried that. you let go and move away from him and he follows-- throwing a few punches without expecting them to land.

they don't. one disadvantage of him being so much bigger than you is the speed difference. you're so much faster than him. you can dodge faster, but if he finally gets his hands on you, you're done.

you're moving around the mat, dodging his punches and dodging it when he reaches for you, and he's growing increasingly frustrated.

"godammit, quit fuckin' moving." he hisses, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you in. he lets go to grab you by the shoulders, but before he can, you duck and use most of your strength to kick his shins, trying to debilitate him so you can get away. it doesn't work. you scramble away and he follows, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and pulling you close. he turns around to throw you off before shoving you to the ground and pinning you there by your shoulders, his body coming down on yours as his knees cage you in on either side of your hips.

you're squirming, hips lifting and hands clawing at his wrists in an effort to get him to let you go. his eyes narrow, getting some sort of satisfaction at seeing you squirm beneath him.

"one," he begins counting, signaling to you that you only have a few seconds to get away. his grip on you tightens, and you're almost sure he's gonna win when you get an idea. your grip tightens on his wrist before you drag your hand up it, digging your nails into the surface of his skin. you apply enough pressure to cut the skin, and his grip releases at the same time he hisses. he doesn't let go, but you take the opportunity to throw his hands off of you and turn around in his hold, tucking your legs in against yourself and pushing the bottoms of your feet against him to throw him off. then you scramble out from beneath him, getting up and putting distance between the both of you.

"hmm," he says, eyes focusing on you before he gets to his feet. "slippery fuckin' thing." he laughs, looking at the arm you cut up. crimson dribbles from the thin red lines you've left behind, and he rolls his head, cracking his neck as he goes towards you again.

there's something different in his eyes-- he's surprised that you're putting up such a fight.

"never expected a little thing like you to fight so dirty." he says, his voice low and husky as he stops a few feet away from him, intense eyes following you as you circle him. it's obvious to him you have no intention of making the first move again, so he opts to play with you a bit instead.

"y'r crafty too, huh?" he says, his voice mocking somewhat. "didn't expect you to claw me up like that. i mean, it worked..." he turns as you do, and your eyes narrow.

"i'm enjoyin' this one, that's for sure. maybe i should make sure that you're gonna keep comin' back?" he says, his voice husky again. there's a tone in it. it's almost like he's taunting you, or-- no, that isn't it...

"it's a shame they won't scar, though." he takes another step towards you, and you look behind you to gauge how much space you have until you step off the mat. you stay where you are.

"i like having trophies from my fights... reminds me how much i enjoyed it." he keeps rambling, and you're not sure what the point of all this is. it makes you feel fuzzy inside, kind of, like he's complimenting you.

he gets closer, and his eyes narrow further. you know he's smirking beneath the mask. you look meek-- is he flirting with you? is your lieutenant flirting with you? is simon "ghost" riley flirting with you??? he throws a few lazy punches, knowing you'll dodge them.

"not at all. it's a compliment, actually. small, nimble. i bet you rarely get into any sticky situations, huh? like a rabbit," he chuckles, his voice amused as he lets go, then shoves your shoulders hard enough to make you stumble. then, to make you lose your footing, he kicks your feet out from under you.

"ain't very often i get to fight people like you, after all." he hums, not even sounding like he's taking it seriously. you're visibly nervous, and you hold your fists up defensively. he leans forward, grabbing your arm and pulling you close. the rational part of you is laughing at your idiocy, but the other part of you is melting because-- he is flirting.

"ugh-- people like me? is that an insult?" you say, your chest close to his as he leans down. his face is inches from yours, and you can feel his breath against you.

you yelp, and you fall on your ass. the sudden tone shift is enough to send you spiraling. the way he talks to you makes something heat in your stomach. he gets on top of you again, one of his legs between yours and the other on the outside of you. he puts his hands on the mat between your arms, and he stays leaned over you.

"well... not really fighting back now, are you? that's a shame..." he huffs, his gaze drifting from your face down... your chest is heaving, and your eyes are shut. your hips shift, and he moves his leg up at the same time. the curve of his thigh bumps against your clothed cunt, and it makes you jolt.

"hey!" you hiss, not expecting the contact or the look in his eyes when you finally look at him.

"what?"

"i... i thought you said no dirty shots," you retort, your voice somewhat weak. you look away, your body flooding with some sort of warmth that his closeness produced in you.

he snorts, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. "ain't a dirty shot if you're already on the ground and you've already lost. it's just... overkill." but he stays over you, despite the fact he just won. his gaze rakes over you in a hungry manner, and you can hear him suck in a breath when your back arches up off the ground.

"...you can get off me now," you murmur, avoiding eye contact. you feel shy, all of a sudden, and kind of pissed. he just won because he was toying with you on purpose to win. he was messing with your feelings! "get off me." you hiss, trying to get out from under him.

his eyebrows go up, sensing your sudden hostility. his eyes narrow. he lifts a hand and pins your shoulder down. "ah ah ah, the fuck are you doing? did i say you could get up?" he was enjoying this before, but now that you're fighting back like this he's a bit irritated.

your squirming just results in you unintentionally grinding yourself against his thigh. you suck in a breath when it happens, and your eyes narrow.

"you're such an asshole" you grumble. despite your arguing and your resistance, you press yourself against his leg.

he looks down when your hips shift. he watches the way they move, and when you finally relax, he moves above you and intentionally moves his leg to see your reaction.

your face flushes, and you whimper, looking away.

"well... look at that." he murmurs, his voice lilted and knowing. he looks up at you and makes eye contact, pushing it against you again to elicit another noise from you. you moan once again and your lips curl, eyebrows knitting in response to the jolt of pleasure he causes.

"isn't that cute?" he teases. "does that feel good?" he says, his voice almost mocking as he lifts his thigh and presses it against you, gently pushing it against you in an even motion to make you squirm even more.

"g-god, you're such an ass," you moan, body falling limp and losing whatever ounce of fight you had. you still mouth off. "do you do this with everyone you spar with? i-is that why soap is always asking you to spar with him?"

he rolls his eyes. "shut up, girl. i'm surprised you have the audacity t' speak to me that way when you're gettin' off on my fuckin' thigh." his voice is almost scolding, but he doesn't grind his leg against you any harder. just goes slow... it's almost torturous. you can already feel yourself drenching your panties. it's a culmination of this entire thing. the way he smells, how close he is to you, the way he's staring at you so hungrily... all of it is making you salivate, except your mouth isn't the only thing drooling.

your head falls back, and your breathing is already so heavy. he tilts his head forward, and his lips are on your neck. you feel the wetness of his lips, the itching brush of peach fuzz, the fabric of his mask rolled up over his nose against your neck-- all of it makes you shudder beneath him. he nips at the flesh of your neck, pulling gently and kissing at the reddened flesh afterward. he puts his leg down, and places himself between your legs, one hand cupping the back of your thigh and lifting it to press himself against you. you feel the outline of his dick through his sweats, semi-hard but at attention. the girth of it catches your attention, and when he feels your body stiffen he chuckles.

"hush. we'll make sure it fits, doll." he murmurs, his voice husky and low, sending shudders through you with how close he is to you. he doesn't grind into you from that position. rather, his hands travel up and down your sides as he kisses your neck, sucking small hickeys and trailing them down. his hands shove your shirt up and over your chest, doing the same with your bra. he's intense, and very aware of what he wants-

you.

his eyes focus on your tits. round, perky and the perfect size for him to hold. so he slides one hand up to cup and fondle your tit, his thumb quickly traveling over your nipple. it pebbles and perks beneath his touch and against the cool air, and he hums. he salivates. he wants to taste your skin. drag his tongue over your flesh, feel the goosebumps that raise beneath his tongue. but he can't. he has to make sure you come back for more and that's exactly how he will.

and as always, he'll get what he wants, one way or another. you squirm beneath him, and noises attempt to claw out of your throat but you keep quiet. you don't want to let on how much you're enjoying this, but the subtle rock of your hips gives it away.

"tsk tsk tsk. are you really this impatient? haven't even done anything yet." he snickers, pulling back to look down at you. he pulls his mask back down before you can see anything, and he leans forward with his hips a bit. your legs still hover against his hips, your knees drawing together as a result of your embarrassment. your lips part and you pant, chest heaving once again.

his other hand slips down to your hip, lifting your legs up and together, over his shoulder so he can pull your pants and panties up your thighs.

"such a pretty girl. you know, i've had my eyes on you for a bit..." he starts. once your pants are around your thighs and he has enough access to you, he brings the hand that was on your boob, to your mouth. he eases his pointer and middle finger into it and your eyebrows knit at the taste of sweat. "suck," he instructs. you do, cheeks hollowing briefly as your tongue laves along his fingers, coating them in spit.

"hmm... always wondered whether or not you were the obedient type, but i never got a chance to break you in and find out." he chuckles, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth and bringing that hand between your legs. he drags the tips of his fingers through your folds, humming when he feels how wet you are. you can hear how sloppy it is, and he laughs.

"i guess i wouldn't be breaking you in as much as her," he snickers. your face reddens and you look to the side, panting once again as he starts easing those two fingers into your sopping cunt. you comprehend then that the her was your pussy.

"mm-hm, tight, as i thought. are you that nervous?" he teases, tilting his head as he scissors those two fingers inside you. the feeling knocks the air from your lungs, and you gasp, bringing both hands to your face to hide how embarrassed you are. despite that, your body gives away how excited you are, your hips shifting and your back arching as his thick fingers curl inside you.

if you're moaning, your pussy is screaming. the wet noises of his fingers working you out is embarrassing and brings heat to your face, but you can't really focus on that.

it sounds so lewd, and it is. you let out a gasp as he pushes them deeper, the sheer girth of his fingers causing your gummy walls to strain. your thighs clench and your hands ball into fists. his other hand pulls your pants and panties off completely, humming as your legs fall apart.

"s'it that good, doll?" his voice is husky and low, teasing. he's getting off on your reaction to his touch. "c'mon, girl, look at me..." his fingers stop, and you whine, shifting to look at him. they start moving as soon as your eyes fix on his, and your lips part. you moan again, your lips curling.

"c'mon, talk to me." he encourages, and his touch is downright sinful in comparison to his tone. "does it feel good? this what you wanted when you started grinding yourself on my leg?" he chuckles to himself. "never woulda thought you were this kinda girl if i hadn't of seen it myself..."

his thumb moves, and flattens over your clit once he turned his wrist over. he rolls circles over it slowly, his other hand rubbing soothing circles on the outside of your thigh.

you squirm and whimper, and it takes everything in him not to just pounce on you. instead he opts to listen to your moans and the sound of his fingers inside you. he curls his fingers and inches them deeper until your body jolts, and he hums in approval at your reaction.

"s'that the spot...?" he asks, leaning forward as he curls his fingers against that spot again. you jump, the coil in your stomach growing ever tighter as you moan in affirmation. the pleasure is making your head feel light, your eyes fluttering shut again and your head falling back against the mat. you're squirming and shifting again, and you feel sweat on your neck and chest. you whimper a bit, the air feeling sticky and humid between you both. it's hard to tell whether that's just your body heat, or it's him.

and you whimper at him. you can feel your orgasm encroaching, and he can feel it too. your cunt squeezes around his fingers and he can feel you throbbing. your body tenses, and your orgasm is right there--

he removes his fingers. you slump down, tilting your head to the side and huffing in frustration when you feel so suddenly empty.

"...this proves that you're just... an asshole..." you grumble, bringing your legs together.

he's thick. slight upward curve, blushing tip and definitely not lacking in length.

there's silence on his end, and when you look at him, he's pulling his sweats and boxers down.

"can't be much of an asshole if m'gonna dick you down," he purrs. you don't look, but you feel his cock hit the side of your thigh once he takes it out. a hand wrapped around the base, he gives a few lazy pumps, smirking to himself beneath the mask when you lift up to look.

"hmm? s'this good enough for you? such a rude girl, calling me names," his voice is teasing. he shifts forward a bit and then lines himself up with you before he moves both hands to cup the back of your knees and lift them. he moves you just a bit closer. He shifts his hips, then without warning, pushing himself into you up to the hilt.

you gasp. he's big, and you wish he had told you he was going to do it so quickly, because you weren't expecting it. his size takes a bit for you to adjust to, the sting and the stretch causing you to squirm once again. he grips your hips to still you, and he hums. "shh... you can take it, can't you?" you continue to whimper, and he laughs. "so pathetic. s'it too big for you?" he mocks, leaning over you once again.

"so fuckin' messy. look at you, girl. maybe this-" he emphasizes that with another particularly hard thrust that causes his tip to attack your g-spot-- "is what you wanted all along. maybe you asked me to spar cause you wanted me to fuck the shit out of you," he huffs, his voice low and raspy and his movements aggressive. you can barely speak aside from squeaks and squeals, the feeling of his hips slamming into yours causing your vision to go white. you couldn't respond outside of gasps.

god. yes. yes, it was too big-- and it took you a while to adjust to it. he started moving once your hips started shifting into his. he tilted his head forward, tucking it into your neck and grunting quietly. you're still sensitive, so when your lips part in a moan, it all feels so intense. your back arches and your legs push apart, welcoming him. his thrusts are shallow, yet careful, (for now), and he grunts into your ear. you squeeze around him, and your head tilts back as you moan out, hands finding his shoulders and digging your nails into it. Your eyebrows knit and you whine.

"y'r pussy's noisier than you are. listen to her," he goes quiet and fucks into you harder just to emphasize the paps of his hips hitting the back of your thighs and the squelches of your pussy clenching around his cock. your slick dripped down your cunt, getting his sweats damp a bit with it-- he moved one hand up to pull your hair, tilting your head back so he could talk in your ear.

"fuck," he cursed, pulling your hair again and chuckling when you cried out. you were lost in the feeling. the feeling of him, the feeling of his cock and how roughly he fucked you.

"hah!" you mewled, your back arching up off the mat. you grabbed at his shoulders in utter desperation. your eyes crossed and you tilted your head to the side, your body jolting with each thrust he offered you- getting gradually rougher.

"y'sound so slutty, moaning for me like that... keep doin' it, pretty," he hummed, staying close as he rutted into you with a force that might as well have caused you to shriek. he let go of your leg, and both of them closed around his waist, ankles locking at his lower back.

"m'gonna cum," you whimpered, your voice soft and meek. he chuckled, and his movements got a bit more aggressive. he lifted himself up onto his hands, keeping them just over your shoulders and looking down to where your bodies met. his fat cock was pounding into you over and over, the squeezes of your pussy enough to make him moan a little bit himself. he looked up, meeting your gaze.

when he finally came, you were still on cloud nine, wailing and squirming beneath him when his hips slammed into yours and he spilled spurts of hot cum into your pussy. the sensation was almost enough to make you cum again-- especially when he ground his hips into yours, his tip grinding into your g-spot. plus his lovely groans were sending you straight to heaven. the noises he made were mostly groans as he fucked into you, making your entire body shudder from the feeling and the sensations flooding your body.

your eyes were glazed over. visibly lost in the pleasure and focused on nothing but your impending orgasm, he took that as encouragement. he took your legs again, sitting up and pulling them together but pushing them against your front. the angle allowed him to get impossibly deeper. each time he slammed into you, his tip hit your g-spot, applying enough pressure to graze the plug of your womb and create more tingling, burning pleasure.

"oh! oh, fuck--" you gasped, folding a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. your heart was pounding in your ears, and you swore you almost fainted when your orgasm finally fell over you. the feeling of the pressure releasing had you seeing stars, shaky crying moans leaving your mouth. your back arched and tears pricked the corners of your eyes. you were sure you'd be bruised on the inside by the next day.

"that's it baby," he hissed, his grip on your legs tightening. "atta girl..." he purred, his tone tense with his own incoming orgasm. he wanted to help you ride out yours first, so he did. his hips kept that brutal, hungry pace, slamming into your drooling pussy with a fervor he didn't even know he had. he wasn't much of a talker in the midst... you didn't notice that he'd gone quiet, though, too absorbed in the aftermath of your orgasm.

he groaned out, his eyebrows knitting beneath the mask as he tilted his head forward to watch himself pound you. "take it... that's it, fuck..." his tone was still encouraging, but it faded as his pace started to slow. your entire body was still ebbing with pleasure and tingling with the overstimulation of your orgasm, and you were almost struggling to come back to the earth. you were both still panting.

when he pulled out of you and tucked his cock away and fixed his sweats, he looked at you-- his tone was full of pride. "well... fuck... look at you, huh?" he tilted his head, sounding awfully smug. he retrieved your pants and panties and helped you get re-dressed.

"you know... that wasn't the kind of session i was expecting, but damn... i think that was the best i've had in a while." he stood up and helped you to your feet, patting your ass once or twice as he held you up while you regained your bearings.

"...whatever, ghost," you grumbled, still holding onto your stubbornness even after you'd been sent to heaven and brought back.

"you know where to find me. don't be afraid to come get some if you're in need," he hummed, "not like i'm in a position to deny ya."

[papayapiastri]

toying with you.

warnings: smut, thigh-riding. sprinkle of angst.

pairing: LN x Reader

———

it wasn’t often that you watched him train. but today was different. today; he asked you to watch.

No. He instructed you to watch.

Lando could tell something was off with you this morning. When he asked what was wrong you simply said ‘I’m fine’ or ‘don’t worry about it’.

He always knew when you were lying, even by the slightest of ways. Whether it was the way you made your breakfast; swift and without care, or the way you spoke with haste instead of your usual attentiveness.

He always noticed.

But it was just one of those days. no rhyme or reason why you were agitated.

You just were.

Unfortunately, Lando was stubborn and unrelenting. He wasn’t going to stop hounding you until you told him what was wrong. Even going as far as to wrapping his arms around your waist; pulling your frame into his own knowing how addicted you are to the comfort of his hold.

But instead of crawling into his embrace, you pulled back, resting your arms back at your sides with a grumbled sigh.

seriously lan, Im fine, just leave me alone.

As soon as the harsh words flew from your lips, a pang of guilt rang deep within your chest. Lando’s eyes flickered with a mixture of hurt and confusion, you could tell that he was contemplated whether it was something he did; whether it was somehow his fault, however, you didn’t have the energy to deal with it at the moment. Instead, you just walked away before things got worse.

It wasn’t until hours later that you started to feel like yourself again; building up the courage to go seek him out. When you found him, an unsure smile reached your lips as he sat comfortably in the living room, watching a show you couldn’t place. You tried making small talk, asking what he wanted for dinner, asking what he was watching…

…and you were met with nothing.

So many questions, yet after your little outburst this morning, it seemed Lando gave you the cold shoulder for the rest of the day. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him when you were met with the silence, or the slight shrug of his shoulders.

Childish. yet, you knew you deserved it.

So, you were definitely surprised when you received his text later that evening.

I’ll be in the gym at 7. join me

You stared at the screen. Puzzled. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard; wanting to send a plethora of questions. Never had Lando asked you to join him for his gym sessions. He flippantly claimed you were too much of a distraction.

But before you could respond, a tiny speech bubble bounced across the screen.

wasn’t a question y/n. be there at 7.

Your eyebrows furrowed. no emojis, no x’s or o’s that would be littered through his usual texts.

Just a direct instruction that you felt obligated to follow.

So here you were, attempting to silence your racing thoughts around why Lando asked you to be here. He hadn’t said a word to you since you entered the room. Your skirt delicately brushed against your skin as you watched him; your legs bouncing anxiously as you sat there. waiting. patiently.

You tried distracting yourself with the way the warm sun sizzled against your skin, painting the room with a golden hue. Or the way the heat caused droplets of sweat to hypnotically fall from Lando’s messy curls. Or the way your eyes naturally gazed down to his arms; veins tensed as his hands strained against the grip of the weight above him.

it worked for a moment. that simple distraction.

but now, you found your thoughts consumed by something else…

your thoughtful gaze found itself trailing down, noticing how lando’s shirt rode up ever so slightly; exposing his v-line.

While on a usual day you would be salivating at the outline of his boxers, today, all you could focus on were his thighs as they flexed with even the slightest of movements.

You couldn’t help as your stomach fluttered with butterflies at the sight.

stop it. You mentally chastised yourself for objectifying something that was so inherently innocent, but you couldn’t help yourself. there was something so lewd, about the picture in front of you.

The sudden sound of Lando’s trainer snapped you out of your trance. Heat rushed to your cheeks, painting ur skin in a rosy pink hue as you forced yourself to look away. You weren’t about to get caught staring; especially by Lando’s trainer.

A moment passed as they exchange pleasantries, a day well done apparently. You were too distracted to notice, but at least Lando’s tone seemed light as he sent his trainer off with a curt grin.

It wasn’t long before you felt a curious set of eyes fall on you. Analysing. Reading you like you were an open page of his favourite book. “Seems I’m more of a distraction than you are.” He murmured bemusingly “Something on your mind?”

Your eyes snapped back to his, surprise painting your features at Lando’s unexpected blasé nature despite of everything that happened this morning. You shook your head; lazily leaning back onto your seat and crossing your arms in annoyance. “Care to explain why you’ve been ignoring me all day?”

With a click of his tongue, Lando shook his head “Your words y/n, you wanted to be left alone so—" his voice trailed off for a small moment.

“I left you alone.” He shrugged.

You hummed in response. You should have felt content with his response. It made sense. Yet, a part of you still felt jaded and hurt by his cold demeanour towards you.

As if immediately recognising your hesitancy, a tired sigh fell from Lando’s lips. “Come here.” He murmured, extending his hand towards you. Curiously, you pushed yourself off of the couch with a huff, taking small, uncertain strides towards Lando as he eyed you with sincerity.

Before you could react, Lando roughly grabbed your wrist, forcefully tugging your body down to his own as he placed you on his thigh. You squealed at the sudden gesture.

“Lando!” you scolded as strong arms snaked its way around your waist in an attempt to steady you and ur pulsing heart. With a hand to your chest, you attempted to calm your uneven breaths.

Lando couldn’t help the hearty chuckle that bellowed from his chest, not even bothering to hide the smirk that was plastered across his face. He loved seeing you flustered in every way imaginable.

“Sorry.” He muttered nonchalantly. Clearly unapologetic as he brought his hand to your face; his fingers brushing away the stray hairs that found themselves out of place, instead, placing them neatly behind your ear. “Now—” He began, his tone shifting slightly more serious, “Want to tell me what’s been happening in that pretty little head of yours?”

You could barely register the words that were said. Instead, all you could focus on was the friction that bound tight at your core, the thin lace of your panties that suddenly strained against Lando’s skin.

He seemed unaware, still distracted by your hair. the very hair you wish he’d bury his hands in and tug on the strands; maybe he’d call you a little brat for your behaviour this morning—

You silently wondered if he could see right through you. What you were thinking. The fact that even the smallest of movements could crumble your resolve.

“Y/n?”

Your eyes widened as they snapped to his. His smirk had fallen to a boyish grin as his gaze swirled with newfound amusement. He tilted his head, trailing his fingers from your hair to your jawline. With a hum, he spoke lowly, “If you’re not interested in talking about this morning, why don’t you tell me what’s got you so flustered?”

Lando’s jaw clenched as he assessed you. every movement, every flinch. Anything that could give away the clear desire that you felt building at your core.

You sighed heavier than expected. “I’m not flustered. I’m annoyed.”

“With me?” He tilted his head curiously whilst his fingers continued their exploration down the side of your throat, crossing over every divet before letting his hand rest behind your neck. His grip was light, but noticeable. Your skin exploded in goosebumps at the anticipation of something more. You wanted, needed, something more.

“Especially with you.”

“Mm…” he hummed approvingly, wetting his lips as his other hand began its teasing assault on your hips, drawing up your skirt ever so slightly as he tightened his grip. “Anything I can do to fix that?”

You shook your head. attempting to use one of your hands to push yourself off of him. This time, you weren’t surprised at the sudden clutch of your wrist. However, you were surprised by how easy it was for Lando to pull you further into him. The harsh movement causing his muscles to flex, sending pulsating waves to your core. You bite the inside of cheek, attempting to hold in the whimpers that threatened to escape, but nothing could hide the rosiness that burned across your skin. A constant reminder of Lando’s effect over your body.

“Are you sure y/n?” he teased, softly grabbing the side of your cheeks with his index finger and thumb before bringing his face close to your ear.

“you must be so...” you could barely hear his voice as he murmured sweetly against your skin, trailing soft fleeting kisses trailing down your neck. “frustrated.”

Your hands curl around his shirt, gripping the cotton as you attempted to ignore the delicious assault. “You’re toying with me?” you mutter, taking in shallow breaths as your eyes flutter closed; your senses consumed by Lando’s every movement.

You feel him smile against your skin “only because you’re letting me.”

“Admit it.” he whispered, leaving lingering kisses across your collarbone. The feeling of his lips hovering against your sensitive skin sent electric shocks down your spine. So much so, you didn’t even notice how your back arched; your head tipping ever so slightly to give lando access to even more of you.

He sighed longingly against you “Spending the whole day without me to get you off. You were practically drooling the minute you saw me.”

Embarrassed couldn’t begin to describe how you were feeling, but it was especially made worse by the amused laugh that reverberated from the man in front of you. “Talk to me baby— ‘miss your sweet voice.”

“What’s got you so needy for me?”

There was no hiding from Lando. You could either tell the truth and face the potential lifetime of embarrassment that would soon follow, or, lie, and not get what you wanted.

What you really needed.

Let’s face it. you weren’t in the mood to be denied.

not tonight, atleast.

“Your thighs.” You murmured. Barely a whisper, barely a breath. You wondered if he even heard you. especially since he didn’t seem to react to your words. Instead, his chaste kisses travelled up your neck; one planted softly on your cheek before reaching messily to the side of your lips.

Lando pulled back for a moment, shamelessly admiring you. While you averted his gaze, you took a peek at him through your eyelashes; attempting to fight the thrashing heat against your skin. “There we go.” He hummed approvingly. “Was that so hard?” He tilted his head, a familiar sense of mischief dancing on his features.

But a moment of silence followed. Any sense of urgency that Lando had seemingly dissipated as he lazily leaned back, continuing to assess your features. His hands clutched around your wrists; taking away any possible chance of escape.

“Well?” You snapped. all this work to get you to admit something so humiliating and depraved and now… nothing?

“Well what?” he questioned with a scoff. “You think I’m going to help you?” You could tell he was still toying with you. Clearly, he was still mad about this morning.

“I’m just respecting your wishes baby.”

What a childish little prick— Heat returned to your cheeks, as you realised what he was doing. you tried averting his gaze, pulling your hands back so you could leave, but you couldn’t, he was too strong. Any tug at your wrists would be met with him pulling you back tenfold.

With a click of his jaw and a boyish grin he cut the tension with his teasing voice, “Come on baby; you don’t need to ask, just take what you need from me. Anything to make you feel better.” His tone dripped with mockery, there was something about it that felt so degrading, almost as if he enjoyed seeing you clearly suffer; clearly needing more than what he was willing to give.

You shook your head: your lips in an ‘o’ shape as you sat there in disbelief. a small moment passed, one that felt like a lifetime.

Fuck it. If he’s so adamant on playing this game with you, then you might as well win it.

“You’re fucking insufferable.” you murmur, forcing yourself out his grip to plant your hands into his curly strands; leaning your body further into him and positioning yourself perfectly against his thigh.

Pulling at the strands, a low groan rumbled from Lando’s chest. The sound sending waves of pure euphoria through your body as you repeated the same assault he practiced on you; nipping and pulling at his skin with each intense kiss.

You whined lowly as you felt Lando’s hand begin to travel under your shirt, his cool fingers causing goosebumps to reappear on your skin as he slowly traced across your stomach; your chest; before roughly gripping your breast. it didn’t take long for your body to respond to his, melding into one another.

You needed him. His fingers, his tongue. his cock. anything that could help release the tension that pooled at your core. Hiding your face into the nape of his neck, you planted small kisses against his skin; revelling in the faint oud smell of his cologne; continuing to roll your hips against him to aid the lingering ache between your legs.

“Has my baby become a slut for me just from my thighs?” You hear Lando tease yet his voice sounded far as you remained trapped in the sensations of his hands. His fingers drew hypnotic circles around your nipple as his other hand harshly tugged at your hips, rhythmically following your own movements. For a small moment. You wondered whether Lando knew how strong he actually was, whether was aware that the tight grip he had on you were would leave haunting bruises on your skin the next day. marking you as his, and only his.

You pulled away from him, causing his fingers to fall from your delicate skin. You look down, frustration clearly plastered across your features. “please lan.” you whimper softly. You felt your pleasure building ever-so-slightly; waves of heat radiating across your whole body yet—

it wasnt enough, it would never be enough. You knew that. He knew that.

“Please what?” his mocking tone sent a shiver coursing through your spine as he tilted his head. - slight curve teased his lips. “You had so much to say this morning, but now, it seems you can barely find your words.”

“Stop punishing me.” You grumbled.

“Punishing you?”

“I’m not punishing you y/n. you’re the one who told me you wanted to be left alone.” He said matter-of-factly. Even so, his eyes lingered downwards, watching as his fingers trailed over your exposed thighs, across the soft skin before planting himself right between your legs, tracing over the delicate fabric; hovering over the sensitive nerves that ached to be touched.

“Look at you. you’ve made such a mess for me already and I’ve barely even touched you baby.” His other hand rested around the nape of your neck; his thumb gently tapping the side of your throat, as if he was teasing the thought of tightening his grip.

You hated it. You hated how humiliated you felt. Lando had you melting on top of him, writhing in the most degrading way imaginable without so much as a thought of release for you.

You turned your head slightly, a breathy sigh leaving your lips at the realisation.

“Y/n.” Lando called knowingly; pulling your focus back to him before your thoughts could sabotage you further.

Your attention snapped back to his as his eyes trailed longingly over your features. “if you need me, you better start using your words. no more hiding in that pretty little head of yours.”

it was funny that even in such a intimate moment Lando tried to counsel you, make you feel better; safe, supported. He’d been that way your whole relationship; which only made you feel even more guilty for snapping at him this morning.

fine. he wants me to use my words. so be it.

You pondered his words with a small smile before leaning in, wrapping your arms around his tense shoulders. Your lips brushed against his in the slightest of touches. “Lan, I need you. ‘need you so fucking bad.” You weren’t afraid of a little begging, you knew how much he loved it.

Your fingers trailed the back of his neck before delving back into his hair. “Need your fingers to help get me off, d‘you think you can do that for me baby?” You whispered.

His eyes widened at your sudden directness. “Fuck…” he hissed as you tugged on his curls. you could tell he was caught off guard, but that quickly washed away as you felt his grip tighten around your waist; guiding your hips as they rolled against him. “There’s my sweet girl.” he muttered. Fingers that were previously wrapped around your neck disappeared into your panties; the large digits not even hesitating to roughly push against your aching clit.

You felt that familiar pressure build and build as his fingers circled your core. Controlled and rough.

It didn’t take long for the melding of pleading whines and pleasured moans to fill the room, you begged for more, and more, and more; pushing your hips further into him as Lando praised, worshipped and fulfilled you completely. “So beautiful— so fucking wet for me.” he muttered harshly; possessively.

It only took his sinful tone to send you to the point of no return; pulsing waves flooding your body leaving you a whimpering mess in Lando’s hold to keep you steady as he continued to shower you with affirmations “that’s it baby, cum all over my thigh; show me desperate you are for me.”

You felt his movements slow, giving you a chance to breathe while sending aftershocks up and down your spine. You hid yourself in his neck, exhaustion hitting you out of no where. You left a small kiss at the base of his neck as your heart rate attempted to lower itself.

Lando comfortingly trailed his other hand down your back. “See baby, a lot of good can come from using your words.” He quipped lowly.

“Should try it again next time.”

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hello, hope you're a having a good day

Could you write something about 141 x reader where the sparring session turns a little too not your usual sparring (if you know what I mean). The reader and them being all sweaty and shit and like the sexual tension that's been there for a while. This idea has been plaguing my mind since forever. Thank youuuu

Haha! Yes! Omg, I love it. Okay, for this, I didn't go full smut. When someone mentions sexual tension, I tend to hyperfocus on that and want to bathe in it. Give me naughty thoughts and flirting-maybe even some actual physical contact that borders on dangerous territory. Give me the yearning! I want to giggle and kick my feet and think about what might happen later.

So, I indulged in that regard! I had lots of fun with this. Thank you so much for sending it in!!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x TF141!Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, knife play, grinding, rough kissing, caught in the act, training, naughty thoughts, mutual yearning

Word Count: 2.4k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Come on. Come at me.”

Soap rolls his shoulders and then brings his fists up in a fighting stance. He makes a “go on” gestured with his hands.

Every muscle in your body is sore. Tired doesn’t even begin to describe how you’re feeling. But you want to best Soap. He’s been on your ass for weeks now—insisting that the two of you should spar together. It’s not the sparring that makes you warm and tingly but the way he suggests it.

Always leaning in. Standing far too close. Bumping your shoulder with his.

Soap waits, but you’re not sure how to proceed. So far, you’ve been completely unsuccessful. As if knowing all your moves, Soap has dodged each blow and kick, effortlessly taking you down to the mat every time you thinking you’ve ensnared him.

Stealth is more your thing. Creeping around in the shadows. Taking out opponents from afar. A sniper scope is your friend. Hand-to-hand isn’t.

You lunge for him and Soap steps back. Fist missing him, you sidestep and go for a jab in the stomach. Soap slaps your hand away, and you want to yell in frustration.

“Sloppy today,” chides Soap, grinning like this amuses him.

It probably does. He’s one for a good laugh.

This time you feign, and Soap takes it, moving in. You’re ready for him, turning out of his swing to duck beneath and then aim for the face. Soap rises to block, and opens a clear line to his groin.

Fucking beautiful.

Lifting your foot, you don’t tap him hard, just enough for his cheeks to go pink. Soap grunts, and you chuckle.

“Shouldn’t have left yourself—”

With an oof, your back smacks against the tumble mat beneath you. Soaps snags your wrists and pins them above your head. You go to kick out at him, but Soap’s knees are between your legs. He shoves them wider.

You’re completely trapped beneath him.

And in a completely inappropriate position.

From where you’re pinned, you notice the small beads of sweat on his brow and how a few pieces of hair stick to his skin. Though his chest is covered by a shirt, it’s snug, with every muscle on display. Those powerful thighs of his press against yours in such a way that you’re imagining nothing between your bodies.

Would he feel this powerful over you if the two of you were elsewhere? Perhaps, somewhere more private. Somewhere without a tumble mat. Somewhere with a bed.

“Can’t harm the goods, love,” says Soap, his voice husky. You’re not sure if it’s from the close contact or from the tap you gave his crotch.

“Then don’t leave them vulnerable,” you reply, almost not recognizing the sound of your own voice. It too is husky as if dipped in desire.

The middle of Soap’s brow scrunches slightly. His gaze travels downward to linger on your lips and then further still until you sense him admiring more than he is observing.

“Soap—”

His gaze snaps upward. “Johnny,” he corrects. “Think we’re on closer terms.”

“Are we?” you ask, as his hips start to relax.

The press of him against you is apparent, and the hardness there is poking at you. Insistent. And you don’t want to ignore it.

Instead, you press upward, grinding against him.

Soap—no—Johnny, makes a sound in his throat.

One moment you’re under him and then you’re in his lap, the two of you sitting up, staring into each other’s eyes. Your heart hammers in your chest, and your hands fists the front of his shirt.

“You—”

“Are we interrupting something?”

You and Johnny turn just as Ghost and Gaz enter the gym. Gaz has a towel draped over his shoulder. The water bottle he holds it half-way towards his mouth before he freezes, gaze locked on you and Johnny.

Ghost cocks his head, arms crossed over his chest.

You’re speechless. Lost. Your mind hasn’t caught up.

But Johnny’s has.

With a twist, Johnny rolls and then lightly tosses you off him as if the two of you were simply practicing and not staring into each other’s eyes.

“You want a go, Lt?” asks Johnny.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“You up for another round?” asks Kyle.

The man is grinning like he could do this all day. You’re sore everywhere—ready to collapse from exhaustion. Hand-to-hand combat is not your thing which is why you’re here in the training room with Kyle.

Yes, you need practice, but you’ve also had your eye on him, admiring him when you think no one is looking. It’s an excuse for some alone time.

“I’d rather eat glass,” you mutter, snatching up your water bottle and drinking the last of it.

“Hate me that much?” he teases.

“So much so that I wanted to spend the afternoon beating your ass.”

Kyle bursts out laughing. He snatches the water bottle out of your hand and aims it at you, squeezing. There’s nothing in it. A few measly drops hit your face and then you lunge for him. Kyle jumps back and extends his arms outward.

“One more round.” He winks. “Come on, love.”

He’s being cheeky, and your blood is pumping.

Kyle tosses your water bottle to the side as you stride forward. His arms go up, and then the two of you are nothing but flying fists and feet. He’s faster, blocking every blow you send his way.

Sweat accumulates on your brow and on the back of your neck, dripping down your spine. You lick your lips, taste the salt from the sweat.

You duck. Swing. Kyle snatches your wrist and twists, pinning your arm behind you. With a sharp jab of your elbow, you nail Kyle in the stomach, freeing yourself.

As you spin to lash out, Kyle is right there, in your space, blocking all movement. You try to step back, to allow space in your next strike, but Kyle rushes in. The two of you are twisted up. Falling. Slamming into the mat on the floor.

You shove and Kyle resists, his strength outmatching yours. With cheek pressed into the mat, you have nowhere to go. You’re completely on your stomach, and all of Kyle’s weight is on you. He breathes heavily, chest heaving. You feel his breath against your skin, and the contact only sends your skin into a shiver.

Your mind drifts, lingering in places it shouldn’t. Worse—Kyle is aroused. His hardness pokes at your ass. But whether he notices or not is unclear.

“You’re improving,” he says.

“I have a good teacher.”

Kyle makes a noise that sounds like agreement. Every muscle is tense, and even Kyle’s hold on you seems laced with something harsh. But then it eases. Softens. His grip loosens enough that you roll onto your side, glancing up at him.

He is so goddamn close. Just a gentle tilt of the head and your lips would meet his. It wouldn’t be that hard. He’s right there.

Kyle blinks, and then his gaze trails downward, lingering on your lips.

“We,” he begins. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

His thumb traces along the side of your throat, and your eyelids flutter with contentment. A little moan escapes you, and you hear Kyle’s sharp inhale.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck it.”

His thumb becomes his whole hand. Holding you in place, Kyle goes all in, claiming your lips with his. It is dominating, and you happily give in to him.

John Price

Your back hits the tumble mat with a sharp slap. The exposed portions of your shoulders and back sting from the contact.

"Again."

Groaning, you push up to a seated position. "We've been at this for hours."

"And you need practice," counters Price.

He's hatless. And shirtless. Only in cargo pants and boots, Captain Price's bare skin glistens with sweat. You won't pretend that the sight of him like this doesn't intrigue you. For months now you've been observing Captain Price in more than just a professional manner. It's hard not to, and the sweat-drenched man before you isn't helping things.

Captain Price runs his fingers through his hair, taking a step back. The casualness to the movement causes your stomach to twist with desire. Your body betrays you, and you have no idea if these feelings are entirely one-sided. Sometimes you think you might gleam a notion of his thoughts, but it always manages to slip through your grasp.

Price offers his hand, and an idea forms.

You extend yours, but don't close the distance. Price is the one that leans forward to do so. It's the perfect opportunity. When your fingers close around his, you tug back, throwing him off balance.

Price tips forward, and you turn to the side as he crashes down to the mat. In one fluid movement, you roll Price onto his back and straddle his stomach.

"Never let your guard down. That's what you always say."

Price's eyes widen slightly before softening. The corner of his mouth twitches into a hint of amusement. It immediately sends heat flaring through you.

"I do," he replies, and it's nearly a coo.

That smirk of his widens into an actual smile, and then it's you on your back and Price straddling. You strike out with an elbow but Price catches your swing, trapping your arms above your head. He bends forward a bit, and it is then that you feel the stiffness against your stomach.

Price makes no move to hide it, and you don’t dare glance downward.

"You need to do better-"

"Captain."

Price immediately recoils, sitting up and releasing your arms. You twist to look behind you, only to find Ghost and Soap standing nearby. Ghost is ever the silent observer, but Soap's head is slightly tilted to the side, the middle of his brow pinched like he's not sure what's happening.

"Meeting starts in five,” says Soap. “Came to find you."

Price coughs and then he's off you, kneeling and offering you a hand again. You don't try to knock him down.

"Just going over some pointers,” replies Price.

"Pointers?" deadpans Ghost and you shoot him a look. He shrugs at you, gaze lingering before moving to his captain.

"Give me ten minutes. Shower. Then I'll be there."

Captain Price gives you a quick glance before walking off with Soap. Ghost crosses his arms over his chest and just stares.

“What?" you snap

"Pointers," he repeats.

"Oh, fuck off, Simon."

He chuckles and turns to follow the two out of the training room.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Your posture is terrible."

"That's very helpful, Lieutenant,” you deadpan.

"Are you sassing me?"

"No."

Simon shakes his head and sighs. “Can’t throw a knife accurately if you’re hunched like a goblin.”

“Goblin,” you mutter under your breath. “Asshole.”

“What was that?”

You clear your throat. “Seems easy, Lieutenant. You just throw the pointy end at the enemy.”

Simon grunts and then grabs your raised arm. "You won't hit anything standing like that."

You resist his pull but you're outmatch when it comes to strength. With one hand on your arm and one on your waist, Simon shifts you into position.

"Like this," he instructs, bringing your arm back. "Firm grip. Feet pointed forward." Simon releases your arm but his hand on your waist remains. "Throw. At the target."

You let the knife fly. It strikes just right of the bullseye.

"Again,” nods Simon.

"Really?"

Simon slowly drops his hand from your waist, the tips of fingers lingering a second longer than necessary.

Removing a knife from his boot, Simon flips it end over end. "We could hone your skills a different way."

"What way?"

“Grab your knife and find out.”

Stalking toward the bullseyes, you yank out the knife, joining Simon in the sparring ring. He bends at the knee, crouching into a fight stance. You mimic the movement.

Simon lunges first and you sidestep. But he's quick for such a large man. He moves around and behind you so fast he's almost a blur.

Grabbing your wrist, Simon lightly twists and pins you against his front, the knife tip pointed at your throat.

"Again,” he growls.

Simon lightly shoves you away. You spin. Striking out. He slaps your arm down and raises his own, the knife tip pointed at your throat for a second time.

"Again."

Showing your teeth, you charge at him, barreling into him at the middle. Simon staggers but doesn't faulter. He attempts to toss you off him, but you remain firm, grabbing hold.

This unloads him, his weight toppling with you. The two of you go down. Simon rolls you onto your back, his body pressed to yours, knife at your throat again.

"Better,” he says. “Still needs improvement."

You go to shove him off, but Simon doesn't budge. He remains where he is, and every point of contact is like an electrical spark. Even his face is close, balaclava nearly scratching against your skin. There is not part of him you’re not touching.

Awareness settles in.

Simon is all hardness over you.

"Have any tips you can give me?" you reply.

His gaze slowly lowers to your lips. His hips shift slightly, something stiff poking against your inner thigh.

“I have one,” he murmurs.

Bet I can guess.

“How do you want it?” he continues.

"You're the expert," you reply softly, hooking your leg over the back of his.

It's an invitation, one you aren't sure he'll take.

There’s a brief pause, and then Simon hums in agreement. It’s a pleased sound, one that instantly makes you shiver. Without taking the knife from your throat, he closes the distance, lips pressing against yours through the balaclava.

Heat erupts, the knife in your hand forgotten on the floor as you grab at him, fingers digging in.

It's only a tease. You want the real thing.

"What's the tip?" you ask once he breaks the connection.

Simon answers by grinding his hips against yours.

That one. Got it.

“We should—”

A door slams from somewhere down the hall. Simon’s head snaps up. The knife disappears, and then Simon is pushing himself away, kneeling beside you. His head is turned toward the main doors, but no one enters.

“It’s late,” you say. No one should be coming this way.

He turns back to you. “Your knife skills are shit.”

You groan. “I know. Goblin hunch. Got it.”

Simon snorts, and offers his hand. You take it, and he pulls you into a seated position. “Just a few more rounds,” he says, and then with a husky twinge to his tone, “and then I’ll go make sure the locker room is clear.”

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[someonegoood]

I’m not a kid! pt. 1 ✫ jeon jungkook

in which you’ve always had a hopeless crush on your brother’s best friend, Jungkook, who’s made it painfully clear he doesn’t feel the same—until a family vacation forces buried emotions to the surface.

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst & fluff ! idolverse, age gap, arguments, jungkook is an ass with reader, making out…

NOTE: i’ll upload part 2 later… someday!! this work is not revised and english is not my first language :)

part 1, part 2.

my masterlist!

The salty breeze of Busan’s coastline always carried the scent of the ocean and the faint cries of seagulls circling above. The city was alive with contrasts: the bustling fish markets that lined the shore and the quiet charm of the winding streets that climbed up the hills.

For Jungkook, Busan had always been home. The neighbourhood where he grew up wasn’t particularly special, but it was familiar—a place where kids spent endless summers playing soccer at the nearby park. That’s where he first met Minho.

Minho, your older brother, was the kind of boy everyone gravitated towards. He was a social butterfly while Jungkook was a shy eight-year-old, reluctant to join in but unable to resist Minho’s easygoing charisma.

“You’re on my team, Jeon,” Minho had declared one afternoon, tossing a worn-out soccer ball to Jungkook without waiting for a response.

From that day on, the two were inseparable. They shared everything: snacks bought from corner stores, secrets whispered during sleepovers, and dreams about what they wanted to be when they grew up.

That’s how you came into the picture.

You were Minho’s little sister, always tagging along, much to Jungkook’s annoyance. You were the sunshine to Minho’s confident energy, with an eternal optimism that made everyone crack a smile. But to him, you were just Minho’s sister—someone to tolerate because you came with the package.

Instead, over the years, your bubbly nature and obvious admiration for Jungkook became harder for him to ignore. You lingered on the sidelines of their soccer matches, offering water bottles and clapping too enthusiastically when he scored a goal. You laughed at his jokes even when they weren’t funny and gave him small, thoughtful gifts on his birthday—things like handmade keychains or little notes tucked into envelopes.

And while Minho teased you endlessly about your obvious crush, Jungkook’s reaction was always more severe. He hated it—not because he didn’t like you, but because he didn’t know how to like you. That made everything infinitely more complicated.

So, he did what he thought was best: he pushed you away.

NINE YEARS AGO…

The evening had the magic that only Busan nights could conjure: warm, salty air and the soft glow of lanterns strung along the bustling street-side restaurant.

Your family and the Jeons had planned this dinner weeks ago, a casual gathering to catch up and enjoy good food before Jungkook left for another training session in Seoul.

“I’m moving to Seoul,” he announced some years ago at your family’s barbecue, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t just shattered your world.

Your heart sank.

“For what?” your brother asked, genuinely curious.

Jungkook’s lips curled into the smallest of smiles. “To be a trainee. BigHit is giving me a shot.”

You froze, the words hitting you harder than you expected. He hadn’t told you. He hadn’t even hinted at it. That night, you cried alone in your room. You felt betrayed: that was your only dream since childhood. Eventually he left Busan to become a trainee, which had made you wonder if you’ll ever have an opportunity in the industry.

The long, wooden table was nestled under a canopy of fairy lights, with plates of grilled fish, spicy tteokbokki, and steaming bowls of jjigae scattered across its surface. You sat beside Jungkook, not by choice but because the seating arrangement had worked out that way. Your mother was chatting animatedly with Mrs. Jeon, and your brother Minho was in a heated debate with Jungkook’s older brother about which soccer team was superior.

You couldn’t focus. Not with Jungkook so close, his presence filling the air between you. He was dressed casually in a black hoodie and jeans, his dark hair slightly messy from the seaside breeze. He was scrolling through his phone, barely acknowledging you, but you could feel the heat radiating from his shoulder whenever it brushed yours.

As the clock neared midnight, the temperature dropped. You rubbed your arms, the thin pink cardigan you’d worn doing little to ward off the chill. You tried to focus on the conversation, but your shivering gave you away.

“Are you cold?” your mom asked from across the table, concern in her eyes.

“I’m fine,” you lied quickly, forcing a smile.

But you weren’t fine, and Jungkook noticed your trembling.

Later, when the two families were chatting, you hesitated for a moment and then glanced at him. “Can I… borrow your hoodie?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

“Your hoodie,” you repeated, trying to sound casual. “I’m freezing here.”

He stared at you for a second longer than necessary, his lips pressing into a thin line. Then, without a word, he pulled the hoodie over his head, his black t-shirt riding up slightly to reveal a toned stomach. You quickly looked away, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Here,” he muttered, holding it out to you.

You slipped it on, the fabric warm and smelling faintly of his cologne—a mix of citrus and vanilla. It was far too big on you, the sleeves hanging past your fingertips, but it was comforting nonetheless.

“Thanks,” you said softly, stealing a glance at him.

He shrugged, his expression unreadable. “It’s just a hoodie.”

But as the night went on, you noticed little things. How he subtly shifted closer when the breeze picked up. How his knee brushed against yours under the table, and he didn’t pull away. How, when he thought no one was looking, his gaze lingered on you a second too long.

And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t just a hoodie after all.

That dinner had stirred something in you. Maybe it was the way Jungkook had handed you his hoodie without hesitation or the bubble gum scent on it. Whatever it was, the feelings swirling inside you.

SEVEN YEARS AGO…

It all started at one of Minho’s infamous parties. The room was crowded, music pumping, and you tried your best to enjoy yourself but the thought of being there just because you were Minho's sister made you cringe. That was until you saw Jungkook laughing in the corner with his friends. He had got back from Seoul a few days ago because his company gave him some free days.

Your chest tightened as you saw him. It was impossible to ignore how Jungkook’s carefree laughter carried across the room, pulling you into a spiral of softness. You retreated to the kitchen, determined to drown your emotions in a cup of punch. That’s where Juwon found you, one of your brother's friends.

"Stop pouting," he teased, ruffling your hair. "What’s wrong, kid?"

You shrink at the thought of being called a "kid". "I’m not a kid," you snapped, pulling away. "And nothing’s wrong."

Juwon didn’t believe you, but before he could pry further, Jungkook walked in. His sharp jawline, dark eyes, and smirk made your heart skip a beat.

"Juwon-ah," Jungkook greeted casually before his gaze flicked to you. "What’s with the long face? Did someone steal your crayons?"

Your jaw tightened, and Juwon chuckled. "She’s sulking about something. Probably got dumped." You glared at him, but Jungkook’s smirk only widened.

"Dumped?" Jungkook tilted his head mockingly. "You’d have to date someone for that to happen, kid."

That was the last straw.

"Stop, I’m not a kid!" you snapped, slamming your cup onto the counter. "I’m not some little girl you can just mock whenever you feel like it, Jungkook!"

The room went silent, tension crackling between you. Jungkook’s smirk faltered, replaced by something unreadable. Juwon shifted uncomfortably, sensing he’d made a mistake by staying.

"Alright..." Juwon muttered. "I’m leaving you two to... whatever this is." When he left, Jungkook leaned against the counter, his eyes narrowing as he studied you.

"You’re really something, aren’t you?" he said, his voice low. "Always so desperate to prove yourself. What are you trying to prove this time? That you’re all grown up?"

You felt the sting of his words but refused to back down.

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might actually apologize. Instead, he muttered, "You’re too young to understand."

"Stop using that excuse!" you shot back. "I’m not a kid anymore, and you don’t get to decide how I feel!" The argument hung in the air like a storm ready to break. Jungkook opened his mouth to respond but closed it again, his expression darkened immediately. He went closer to you, his height suddenly making the space between you feel even smaller.

“Are you kidding right now?” he asked, his tone cold. Your noses were almost touching.

Your heart sank and you closed your eyes. “I… I just want to be serious. For once.”

“Serious?” His voice rose, sharp and cutting. “Kid, you'll never be.”

The words hit you like a slap. You blinked rapidly, trying to process the sudden shift in his demeanour.

“I don’t need this,” he continued, his frustration spilling out. “I don’t need you trying to play house or whatever weird crush you’ve got going on. Stop wasting your time on me. You’re just a little kid.”

Your chest tightened the sting of his words bringing tears to your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling. The cup you were holding was long forgotten.

"You’re... impossible, stubborn, and way too good for someone like me." Your breath hitched as his hand brushed against yours.

"Kook..."

He pulled back suddenly, as if afraid of what might happen next. "We can’t," he muttered, more to himself than to you. But before he could walk away, you grabbed his wrist.

"You’re an idiot," you said, tears pricking your eyes. "But if you walk away now, you’re proving me right."

Jungkook froze, his expression conflicted. Then, in one swift motion, he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing onto yours. He began to kiss you, gently biting on your lower lip trying to make you open your mouth. You had never, in your whole life, thought Jungkook would be kissing you.

The kiss was messy, desperate, and everything you’d imagined it would be. One hand on your waist gripping you tightly, rubbing circles with his thumb as his other hand is gently holding the side of your face.

Jungkook began to press kisses along the length of your neck, stopping just above your jawline.

“That feels nice,” you blushed.

He chuckled as he leant in towards you, brushing his hand against your cheek. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his voice shaky.

“We can’t… You know we can’t.”

Once again, his eyes travelled to your lips but before he could kiss you he turned quickly, rushing back into the living room before you broke down completely.

Or so he thought. That was the first time Jeon Jungkook kissed you.

That night, sitting alone in your room with tear-streaked cheeks and a heart that felt both shattered and strangely free, you made a decision: it was time to focus on yourself.

Becoming an idol had always been your dream. You remembered the exact moment you decided this was what you wanted—a moment of clarity during a school talent show when the cheers of the crowd and the spotlight on you felt like home.

But dreaming of something and pursuing it were two entirely different things.

When you told your family you wanted to audition, they smiled indulgently, thinking it was a phase. Your brother, ever protective, had scoffed, telling you to "be realistic." Jungkook, who was still part of your life, had smirked and asked, "Are you trying to be me? Do you even know how hard life my is?"

And he was right.

Auditioning for agencies was gruelling. There were days when you faced rejection after rejection, each one feeling like a crack in the foundation of your confidence. You’d wake up at 5 a.m. for practice sessions, juggling school, part-time jobs, and long hours of singing and dancing in a cramped studio. Every week, you had to convince yourself to keep going when everything in you screamed to quit.

The hardest part, though, wasn’t the physical exhaustion—it was the emotional toll.

Friendships began to slip away, you missed birthdays, family dinners, and countless moments that made your hometown feel like home. Moving to Seoul for training was bittersweet. You were chasing your dream, but it felt like leaving behind pieces of yourself.

Training wasn’t glamorous, either. There were days when your trainers yelled at you for missing a note or a beat, and you’d spend nights in the dorm crying into your pillow, wondering if you’d ever be good enough. Some trainees around you gave up, packing their bags and leaving without a word. But you stayed because deep down, you knew this was what you were meant to do.

And then, one day, after years of relentless hard work, you got a call from BigHit. You had been selected to debut. You and the four other girls you’d grown close to over endless practice hours were going to be idols.

But with gaining fame came him.

Jungkook had debuted first, of course, with BTS. And every time you crossed paths at the company, at award shows or music programs, he made it clear he wasn’t thrilled about it.

It was a surreal moment as you and your group—Mimi, Sky, Nari, and Yunjin—stepped into the large studio for the BigHit family photoshoot. The air buzzed with energy as staff members rushed to set up lighting and cameras. You were dressed in coordinating white outfits, your makeup and hair perfected to the last detail, but none of it stopped the nervous flutter in your stomach.

The nerves only intensified when you saw BTS already gathered near the set, their laughter and chatter filling the room. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen them; in fact, you’d met the members long before they became global sensations, back when Jungkook was still a trainee.

Taehyung and Jin had always been the most welcoming, making an effort to befriend you during those early, uncertain days of training. You had countless memories of Taehyung showing you silly tricks to lighten your mood and Jin bringing snacks to share after practice sessions. Even now, they greeted you with warm smiles, as if no time had passed at all.

Taehyung waved enthusiastically as you approached. "Look at you! All grown up now."

You laughed, cheeks flushing. "And you haven’t changed a bit, Tae."

But the moment your eyes landed on Jungkook, your breath hitched. He stood near the backdrop, hands tucked in his pockets, looking impossibly good in his fitted suit. His gaze met yours briefly, and he gave a small nod, his expression unreadable.

You had seen him a few weeks ago at a family lunch back in Busan, but every encounter still carried a weight you couldn’t quite shake.

"Alright, everyone!" The photographer clapped his hands, gathering everyone’s attention. "We’re starting with the full group shots. BTS and our newest girl group, together."

Your heart sank. You weren’t sure you could survive being this close to Jungkook, especially under the teasing gaze of your members and his.

As the groups began to arrange themselves, chaos ensued. Jin insisted on being in the middle, Taehyung joked about needing his best angle, and your leader, Mimi, declared she wouldn’t stand anywhere near Namjoon because he was too tall. Amid the commotion, you somehow ended up right next to Jungkook.

You tried not to panic as you felt his body press against your back in the cramped arrangement, and you swore you could feel the heat radiating off him.

"Y/N," Sky whispered, barely containing her laughter. "You’re blushing."

"Shut up," you hissed back, but your cheeks betrayed you, turning even redder.

"Look at them," Jimin teased loudly, his voice drawing everyone’s attention. "Our maknaes! Should we make room for you two?"

"Jimin," you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

Sky and Nari joined in, giggling as they exchanged knowing looks with BTS’s members. Even Yoongi couldn’t resist chiming in. "Let’s make a maknae photo. Everyone else, move aside!"

The teasing only worsened as the photographer tried to get everyone to focus. Jungkook remained quiet through it all, his expression unreadable, but you were hyper-aware of his proximity.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

"Enough," Jungkook said, his voice firm but not harsh. The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to him.

He looked down at you, his expression softening. "Let’s just take the photo, okay?"

You nodded, too flustered to say anything. The teasing subsided after that, and the rest of the shoot went smoothly, though you couldn’t stop your heart from racing every time Jungkook shifted beside you.

As the session wrapped up, Taehyung leaned over and whispered in your ear, "He still cares, you know."

You didn’t respond, but the lingering warmth of Jungkook’s presence and the memory of his quiet defence stayed with you long after the photoshoot ended.

The photoshoot felt like a blur in your memory, but one moment lingered vividly—Jungkook standing beside you, his quiet presence both overwhelming and grounding. When he had stepped in to silence the teasing, you’d felt a warmth you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just his defence but the softness in his eyes, the unspoken understanding that had stayed with you.

Since then, things between you have been… complicated. Jungkook was still distant most of the time, his words often cold, but there were cracks in his armour. Small, fleeting moments where his gaze softened or his words carried a hint of something deeper.

Now, backstage at the award show, the weight of his presence pressed on you like a phantom. You hadn’t exchanged more than a glance, but his impact lingered, just like it always did.

“Okay, so who’s the most nervous?” Nari teased, trying to break the tension as your group sat in a quiet corner.

“Not me,” Sky declared, though her knuckles were white around her water bottle.

“What about our maknae?” Mimi leaned closer to you. “You’ve been off all morning. Thinking about Jungkook again?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as the others giggled. “I’m not,” you lied, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

“You totally are,” Yunjin added, poking your side. “He’s got you all flustered, and he hasn’t even spoken to you yet.”

Before you could respond, Taehyung and Jin appeared, their easy smiles immediately lightening the mood.

“Ladies, looking stunning as always,” Taehyung greeted, his tone playful as ever.

Jin offered his signature kind smile. “Nervous? Don’t be. You’ll do great.”

Their presence was a welcome distraction, and you couldn’t help but laugh when Taehyung dramatically declared, “We’re here to protect you from Jungkook’s glaring.”

But the laughter was short-lived. Across the room, Jungkook leaned against the wall, his sharp gaze fixed on you. When Jin ruffled your hair, earning a bright laugh from you, Jungkook’s jaw tightened.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to focus on the performance ahead. But just as you steadied yourself, he approached the group.

“Hey,” Jungkook called softly.

Everyone turned, surprised to see him standing next to you, his expression unreadable but his tone lacking its usual sharpness. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside your group's dressing room.

“Don’t let me ruin this for you,” he said, his voice so low you could bearly hear him. “You’re… good at this. Just do your thing.”

It wasn’t an apology for everything he had done, but it was something.

Your eyes searched his, looking for any trace of malice, but all you found was a flicker of uncertainty. For the first time in what felt like forever, his walls seemed to lower, if only slightly.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, unsure of what else to say.

As he walked out, Yunjin sidled up beside you, a knowing grin on her face. “What did Jungkook say?”

“Nothing important,” you lied, though your heart told a different story.

“Sure,” she teased.

The words stayed with you as you stepped onto the stage, ready to perform. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t the same boy you’d once known, but beneath the cold exterior, there was still something there. Something worth holding onto.

The night of your group’s single release party was supposed to be a celebration. The venue buzzed with excitement, filled with industry friends, labelmates, and staff. Your group were the stars of the evening, basking in the glow of your latest success. You’d worked tirelessly for months, and now, you deserved to let loose.

You flitted around the party, sharing laughs, clinking glasses, and posing for photos with everyone who came to congratulate you. But a familiar tension brewed in your chest, one you tried to ignore as much as you could.

It didn’t help when Jungkook and his members arrived.

You didn't expect him to come, even though he’d been the first on your personal list. Yet there he was, standing near the bar in a sleek dark outfit, grey jeans and a black oversized t-shirt that fitted him nicely. His gaze found yours almost instantly, but he didn’t approach. Instead, he stayed rooted in place, sipping his drink and chatting casually with Hoseok.

“Babes,” Sky called, tugging you out of your thoughts. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you lied, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

But the truth was, Jungkook’s presence threw you off. The history between you—complicated and unresolved—lingered like an unspoken storm. His quiet indifference always hurt more than it should have.

As the night wore on, you avoided him, focusing instead on celebrating with your group. You danced, laughed, and tried to push him out of your mind. But when you stepped outside for a moment of air, the cool breeze hit you, and so did the realization that he’d followed you.

“Couldn’t even last the whole party?” Jungkook’s voice carried a teasing edge, but there was a hesitation in his tone.

You scoffed, not turning to face him. “Why are you here, Jungkook?”

“To congratulate you,” he said, stepping closer. “Big night for you and the girls.”

You turned to find him standing a few feet away, hands tucked into his pockets. “Funny,” you muttered. “Didn’t think you cared.”

“I care,” Jungkook stepped closer, his gaze searching yours. “You’ve been avoiding me since the backstage moment.”

You laughed bitterly. “And you’ve been ignoring me for years. Why do you care now?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension was palpable, years of unresolved feelings bubbling to the surface.

“I don’t ignore you, kid.” He said finally, his voice quieter.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Every time I try to talk to you, you shut me out. Every time I think we’re okay, you push me away again.”

His gaze dropped to the ground, and for a moment, he looked almost guilty. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple,” you pressed, the frustration you’d bottled up for so long finally spilling out. “If you don’t want me in your life, just say so. Stop playing this game, Jungkook. I’m tired.”

His head snapped up, eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Kid... I never wanted you out of my life.”

“Stop calling me 'kid'” you demanded, your voice breaking. “Why do you act like I don’t matter?”

“You matter,” he said, stepping closer. “You matter so much it scares the hell out of me.”

The admission hung in the air, heavy and raw. Your heart pounded as he closed the distance between you, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. You pulled away, tears brimming in your eyes.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

“I know,” he said, his forehead resting against yours. “But I don’t know how to let you go.”

You stepped back, creating space between you. “You need to figure it out, Jungkook. Because I can’t keep doing this.”

The pain in his eyes mirrored your own, but neither of you said another word. You turned and walked back into the party, leaving him alone in the cold night.

"Let me take you home," he said. His tone was strong, not what you were used to. Still, the ride to your flat was silent, you sitting in the front with Jungkook while faint music played on the radio.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white. “Did you really think you mean nothing to me?” You could only sob again, unable to answer him mainly because you were ashamed. When the car stopped, he unbuckled his seat belt and murmured that he would walk you to your door.

Jungkook rocked on his heels as he watched the moonlight highlight the tear-stained cheeks of his best friend's sister. He thought you looked beautiful that night even though you had been crying for the last half hour, your hair hadn't been brushed, and you were digging through your purse like crazy.

Although he would never admit it.

"I got them!" You laughed, waving your keys in the air before bumping your nose with the keychain. You paused as you pushed the key into the door, turning to look Jungkook in the eye for the first time since the party.

"Thank you," he didn't want to hear it. After all, you were just his best friend’s sister.

"It's no big deal."

After a moment, you dropped your bag to the floor and wrapped your arms around the boy's waist, your head resting on his chest as he quickly moved his hand and rubbed your back. He whispered, his chin resting on the top of your head.

"Goodnight."

It’s been two months since the party. When your mom first suggested a getaway, you thought it was the perfect idea to forget Jungkook’s situation. “You’ve been working too hard,” she had said over the phone, her voice tinged with concern. “A little break will do you good. Sunshine, good food, some family time—it’s exactly what you need.”

You’d been reluctant at first. The idea of slowing down felt foreign when your life had been moving at a breakneck pace for so long. But your mom’s persistence—and your own exhaustion—eventually won you over.

“We’ve already rented a villa by the beach,” she added, excitement in her tone. “Oh, and the Jeons will be joining us. It’ll be like the old days!”

The Jeons. You hadn’t heard that name in a while, but the memory of warm summer evenings spent with Jungkook’s family hit you like a wave. Your stomach sank as you considered the possibility of seeing him again.

“Do you mean the whole Jeon family?” you had asked hesitantly, trying to gauge just how much of a challenge this ‘relaxing’ trip would be.

“Of course!” your mom said brightly. “It’s been so long since we’ve all gotten together.”

You hadn’t been able to come up with a convincing excuse to avoid the trip, so you packed your bags, hoping the villa would be big enough to keep a comfortable distance between you and Jungkook.

But the moment you stepped onto the patio of the villa, you knew that hope was futile. He was there, leaning against the railing, staring out at the ocean like he belonged there. And when he turned and saw you, the atmosphere immediately shifted.

His dark eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. You felt his gaze move over you briefly before he turned away, as if dismissing you altogether.

Your brother’s voice broke the tension. “Surprise! Kook managed to clean his schedule.”

You forced a smile, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Great,” you said, your voice flat.

“Hey kid,” he smirked.

“I’m not a kid!” You wanted to scream for help.

[drunk-person]

Training Yard

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: One of Y/n's most common habits is admiring her husband's training every day. On a particularly hot day, the jealousy of the other ladies makes her achieve everything she has been dreaming of for a long time..

WARNING: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, swords being used inappropriately, jealousy sex, dom/sub tones if you squint, no description for reader.

Word cont: 2.800 k

Author's note: Okay, I think those gifs and images with a special focus on Aemond's sword changed the chemistry of my brain, and from that change this one short was born. English is not my first language so be kind if you can.

When Y/n was promised to Aemond and traveled with her family to Kings landing to meet him the first time she saw him was at the training camp. He was brandishing a sword and fighting like a demon. The look of concentration on his face, the way he moved fluidly, the sweat that dripped down his forehead, all of it caught Y/n's attention and made her thighs press together in a way she hadn't understood at the time.

Even in her homeland when the marriage was announced, everyone told her that Prince Aemond was a great warrior, but nothing had prepared her for that. It didn't take long for both of them to get married and gradually build their own daily routine. Y/n, just as her husband woke up very early, and they both had breakfast together, soon after Aemond left for the training yard. And Y/n couldn't even say when it became such a recurring habit to watch her husband training every morning. But she could definitely say that it was one of her favorite parts of the day.

Y/n now knew what that pressure between her thighs meant when she saw her husband in the training yard. She knew even better. And even after almost twelve moons of marriage, she still felt the same feeling whenever she saw him. Today in particular the day was particularly hot, as it was the middle of summer, and even though she was wearing a lighter dress Y/n could still feel the sweat running down between her breasts and down her back as she fanned herself with a fan.

She admired her husband's every move downstairs as he fought with Sir Criston, and she couldn't help but bite her lip gently as she watched him grip the hilt of his sword tightly. Y/n could see that Aemond was sweating wearing all those layers of clothes, his silver hair was damp with sweat, and it was to her great surprise that he had an attitude that she would never have expected. He took off his doublet and opened the thin shirt he was wearing underneath, she sighed when he saw the scene, but the contentment soon passed when she noticed that the other ladies of the court were looking at her husband like hungry dogs would look at a piece of meat.

Y/n gritted her teeth angrily as she held tightly to the wooden support of the balcony, as she thought about how lovely it would be to be able to throw one of them from above. And with her eyes sparkling, she barely waited for the fight to end before going down to the courtyard and approaching where Aemond was.

As soon as Aemond disarmed Sir Cole, causing his sword to be thrown a long distance, and placed his own sword against the older man's throat, the audience applauded happily. But no Y/n, she was smarter than doing something so trivial. And with that in mind she pretended to drop the green fan with gold embroidery that she used to fan herself and relieve the heat.

Aemond immediately bent down, picking up the fan from the floor and handing it into her hands, touching her skin in public even if quickly as he placed the fan back between Y/n's hands.

— Thank you very much husband. — She spoke softly, looking at him from beneath her long eyelashes, already opening the fan again, while she gently bit her lip.

—You're welcome wife. — He replied, looking lightly at the drops of sweat that fell down his wife's neckline, when she intelligently guided his gaze there using the fan. —I see that you are also feeling very hot.

—Well, I told you not to go out in such heavy clothes today, if you had listened to me maybe you wouldn't be walking around practically naked in public. — She spoke only for Aemond to hear, curving his eyebrows and wrinkling his nose, while he looked at her with that ironic smile that made her want to jump on him, to kill him or other things.

—I'm going to retire to our quarters, my prince, the weather is very hot. — And she turned around, closing the fan and walking away without even looking back, already knowing that it wouldn't be long before he would follow her to the bedroom. Aemond always got a little wild after training, with her teasing him he knew he would want her.

As she passed the court ladies, Y/n made a point of smiling arrogantly before heading inside the fortress. Aemond was her husband, only hers and no one else's. And still with her body tense with jealousy and desire, she entered the dark corridor to get to her own rooms faster. But before she could walk two meters she felt someone covering her mouth with their hand while pulling her firmly around the waist. Y/n screamed muffledly as she struggled, until the soft voice came in her ear.

—Easy, my princess.

Hearing Aemond's voice her whole body instantly relaxed, even as he dragged her into an even darker corner and pinned her firmly against the wall of a cramped alcove.

—What did you think you were doing? — He spoke with an irritated voice against her hair while holding her. — Looking at me like that in public, practice begging me to fuck you.

—Well, maybe I wanted to show some unsuspecting people that Prince Aemond has already been married for almost a year before they jump on you! —Y/n practically growled the words in annoyance, and it became even worse when she felt Aemond laughing against her neck.

—So that's what this is about? —He asked in a mocking voice. — Jealousy.

—I'm not jealous. — She replied grumpily, still pressed against the wall.

—Oh no, you are burning with. — He smiled at the realization.

—You know that my only eye is only for you, wife. — He said kissing her neck from behind. — Just for you.

—You think I don't see the way you look every morning when you watch me train. — He whispered, nibbling on her neck. — That I don't watch the way you bite your lip every time I grip the sword hilt. — He bit her earlobe as he said that while pressing himself against her clothed ass, making her gasp.

And without warning he pulled the strings of her dress violently while Y/n's eyes widened in shock as they were almost in the middle of a hallway. The flowing dress fell at her feet and Y/n felt herself blushing for being practically naked in that place.

—Aemond, what if someone shows up? —She spoke fearfully.

—Should you have thought about that before. —He said, pulling her small clothes down and stripping her completely naked while he trailed wet kisses down her back. Suddenly she felt Aemond turn her around and push her in the other direction, lifting her off the floor and sitting her on a small sideboard, knocking over a vase that was previously on top.

—Aemond! —She reprimanded him, but was interrupted when he pressed his lips to hers while holding her thighs, caressing them and keeping them open. He trailed kisses from her lips to her neck, and from her neck to her soft breasts where he feasted on licking and sucking like he knew Y/n liked. And little by little, the caresses that were on her thighs moved up towards her throbbing core, which panted in anticipation every time Aemond's fingers got closer to where she needed him most.

—Husband… —She whimpered when he rubbed two fingers against her wetness.

—So wet for me. — He said, looking down at her, still paying attention to her breasts.

—I need you inside me. — She begged with a needy voice while Aemond slowly massaged her pearl, and she saw the gleam of malice in his eyes as he shook his head.

—No, you don't deserve to get what you want. —Aemond gently pinched her pearl, making her moan and lightly bite her own hand to muffle the noise. — You were such a negligent wife, leaving in the middle of my training, making me have to drop everything and come to you.

—No, you deserve something else. — He said, pulling her and making her almost scream in surprise as he turned her around and leaned over the small sideboard.

Y/n listened as Aemond unbuckled his belt and raised her eyebrows in confusion, not understanding what he would do. But the realization came soon after when she felt something cold against her hot and wet intimacy, panting immediately afterwards.

—I noticed some time ago the way you always look at my sword when you think I'm not looking. — Aemond said while lightly brushing the handle of the sheathed sword against Y/n's intimacy, who pressed her eyes firmly while biting her lips in disbelief that this was really happening.

And without warning he penetrated the first part of the handle into her wet pussy, making her squirm with pleasure and bite her own arm to keep from moaning when she felt the cold metal against her hot skin. Aemond watched ecstatically as the rounded part of the handle was swallowed whole while Y/n moaned and panted with pleasure, he waited a few moments before pushing the rest in and no longer moving it letting her adapt to the size, while he smiled at the sight of his wife squirm, leaking more and more against the handle of the sword.

—Husband… —She begged, looking back with her face wet with tears and her lips red from biting them so much. — Husband, please. —Aemond smiled maliciously, but did not move the sword even an inch. —Aemond, I'm begging you. — She cried rubbing herself against the hilt of the sword.

—Look at you, my dear wife. —He said caressing her moist lips with his finger. —Begging like a real whore.

Y/n immediately nodded, leaning towards him for a kiss, which Aemond didn't have the courage to refuse. And in the middle of the wet and breathless kiss he moved the handle of the sword, thrusting firmly against Y/n's pussy, making her almost scream against his lips while digging her nails into her husband's neck. Aemond smiled against her lips and little by little he picked up speed, in a constant back and forth that made Y/n shiver with pleasure and lose control about one's own body.

She felt like she was going to collapse at any moment, the feeling of the metal filling her making her feel things she had never imagined before. The wet, filthy sound filling the air and the idea of ​​anyone walking by and seeing Aemond doing this to her made her even wetter if that was possible. Heat flooded her entire body and the smell of sweat filled the small alcove at that moment. Y/n did her best to remain silent, but it was almost impossible not to moan her husband's name and beg him to give her more, feeling on the verge of climax.

—Maybe you want them all to listen. — Aemond spoke in a hoarse and low voice close to her ear while sucking her earlobe. —Let them all hear you moan like a little whore while I fuck you with the hilt of my sword.

Y/n couldn't take it anymore, it was like everything inside her broke at once and she came against the hilt of her husband's sword shaking and whimpering as she squirmed and tried to hold on to the small sideboard. Her legs were shaking like jelly and she could barely stand, the feeling of her husband pulling the sword hilt out of her almost made her scream from overstimulation.

Aemond smiled with satisfaction as he pulled the hilt of the sword from inside Y/n, seeing it covered in the white fluids and liquids that came from his wife's pleasure, he never failed to be impressed by the fact that she became even more beautiful destroyed with pleasure. And still smiling, admiring the mess between her legs, he untied the drawstrings of his pants and pulled his own dick out, stroking it a few times and then rubbing it against her moist folds.

Y/n thought she was going to faint from the feeling of being filled again, but now completely. She was so sensitive after her first orgasm that it was as if Aemond was everywhere, and she couldn't help but grind against him for more.

—Always so good and eager for me.— Aemond praised her as he fucked her harder and harder and caressed her hips and breasts. —Such a good and wet cunt.

—You don't need to be jealous, wife, the only one I live for is you, no one else. — He said, sucking her neck and leaving a kiss there while Y/n whimpered and agreed, looking for his lips anxiously.

The two kissed eagerly and Aemond gained even more strength in his thrusts, and when Y/n was on the verge of orgasm again, footsteps sounded in the hallway and Aemond stopped his movements while covering her mouth, signaling for his wife to stay quiet.

Aemond then took advantage of the pause by withdrawing from inside her and turning her to face him and when the steps were far enough away he kissed her again hungrily, and already penetrating her once again with force. Y/n in turn brought her hands to his face, pulling him more and more towards her, wanting to feel every little part of him against her, and she barely noticed when the eye patch fell to the floor, only noticing when they both separated from the kiss. and the shine of the sapphire was present in the dark alcove, making her sigh with contentment at the sight.

—Husband, I want you so much. — She sighed, pulling him into another kiss, feeling closer and closer to the edge with each thrust from Aemond, and feeling him accelerate, she came against his cock, crying and moaning while putting her head in the gap between his neck and shoulder.

—I love you husband, I love you so much. —She whimpered, leaving kisses on his neck, and hearing his wife say those words while feeling her pussy milking him, Aemond came deeply inside her, shuddering and calling his wife's name with his face contorted with pleasure.

Y/n made a point of lifting her head to see the scene before her, in her opinion there was nothing as beautiful in that world as Aemond's face, the only thing that could compare was Aemond's face after the climax.

She caressed his face gently while she felt him massaging her waist with his fingertips still inside her, both still panting, a few moments later Aemond came out of her and lovingly helped her get dressed.

—I'm going to retire to our quarters, husband. —Y/n said visibly tired, and at the same moment Aemond's look changed and he shook his head.

—Oh no you won't.—He said holding her face between his hands firmly looking her in the eyes while speaking in a slightly hoarse voice. — Now you're going to go back there, sit like the obedient and devoted wife you are with my seed running down your legs and watch the rest of the training, knowing that my sword is full of your cunt juice.

—But husband... — She said with wide eyes.

—As I've told you a few times, wife, we must think about the consequences before acting. —He said, replacing his eye patch and fixing his own clothes with a smile.

—If you're lucky, there will only be you up there at that time.

He then fastened the belt with the sword back around his waist and Y/n could see the hilt still glistening with her fluids, and felt her face burn with embarrassment.

—I will never need a tournament favor again as long as I carry this sword. —Aemond said mockingly, looking at her and Y/n rolled her eyes angrily, since her husband didn't even participate in tournaments.

[underratedbreadcrust]

Chance Equals Fortune — Prologue

Squid Game | The Salesman x F!Reader

Summary: parasites. that is the only thing he thinks of when he meets the players he is meant to recruit. but what happens when he meets you and you are nothing of what he expects.

an au where the salesman lives and becomes a player.

Warnings: swearing and classist thinking. in the future there will probably be canon-typical violence and i'm still debating on smut.

a/n: happy new years! i'm sorry i couldn't upload this earlier i had to deal with some long distant relatives. however, due to popular demand here is the gong yoo fic as promised. this was originally supposed to be under 1k words...

Words: 2.1k

next part>>

Click. Click. Click

Those are the sounds of pristine perfectly polished black shoes on concrete. The soles of the shoes worn by a handsome-looking businessman echoed loudly, causing the sounds to reverberate into the jet-black sky. As he walked beneath the faint luminescence of street lights, case in hand and his head held high, his eyes searched for the next prey to fall victim to his silver tongue. The same mouth that twisted dark truths into sweet promises others couldn't dare reject. Never once has his articulate way of speaking failed to deliver the precise words necessary to provide his superiors with a new batch of fresh meat to satisfy their sadistic tendencies. To him, it was all the same. One less piece of vermin in the world, and more importantly, one less leech to drain the well-oiled machine that is society.

Today was no different as he strolled along the sidewalk of a small park near the outskirts of Seoul. While he walked, he felt indifferent towards the small details, like the light breeze swaying the tree branches above or the faint smell of dog shit wafting through the air. Having trained himself to ignore anything and everything that could be a possible distraction from his mission. What was his mission again? Ah yes, currently that would be you.

His steps immediately halted as he spotted your figure in the distance, a dark shadow looming over a bed of flowers and a trail of smoke emitting from the cigarette between your fingers. There you are. He squared his shoulders as he fixed his expression into one of casual ease. Now, all he had left to do was to convince you all of the problems that have stemmed from your pathetic life could be solved in the blink of an eye. That your worries could dissolve as quickly as skin in acid.

He began to move again, taking long strides to where you were standing. In the time he took to reach you, he jotted some quick mental notes.

One. Your relaxed stance oozed confidence and uninterest despite being a young lady positioned in one of the most crime-infested spots of the city in the dead of night. Meaning you either had a weapon on you or had sufficient defense skills, possibly both. He must tread carefully.

Two. You were positioned next to a tall fountain, atop stood a small marble figure of a gumiho. The spot infamously known for the shady transactions dealing with drugs and other nefarious crimes. Perhaps you were waiting for someone? He'd have to keep an eye out for any newcomers that could interrupt his process.

Three. Your mouth was...moving?

His steps faltered. There was no other person around within a 3-mile radius whom you could be conversing with, nor did you have a phone in hand. How odd. In his time as a recruiter, he has encountered all kinds of people. Drug addicts, the mentally ill, and one memorable case a delirious man on the brink of death, hallucinating from hunger. You, however, seemed perfectly sane. Keyword…seemed. He shook his head, quickly putting a halt to his thoughts. He had no time to ponder over whatever weird traits you may have, he came here to do one job. He resumed his trek towards you and was soon standing mere feet from you.

Show time.

“Excuse me miss, may I have a minute of your time?”

You remain standing still, making no indication that you had noticed him. Your eyes were distant while you continued to murmur but no sound came out. He wasn’t sure if you were ignoring him or if you really were that unaware of your surroundings. Now that won’t do.

“Miss?” He tried again tentatively, his head tilting curiously as he stepped in your line of sight. “Are you alright?”

Finally, your eyes shifted into focus, taking a moment to adjust. For a brief moment, it appeared as if you were lost. However, that moment soon passed and your eyes narrowed, annoyance filling your features.

“Why did you interrupt me?”

The bite in your tone was enough to make him raise an eyebrow. Perhaps you really weren’t in the right state of mind after all. “Interrupt?”

You scoffed, ignoring the question you brought the cigarette back to your lips. Taking in a long drag before you released the smoke right in his face. His mouth turned downward in displeasure.

“Do you need something?” You snapped, your jaw clenching as you slid your free hand in your pocket. He caught the way your finger twitched as you did so. Weapon it is then.

His face instantly changed back to that previous pleasant expression, his lips curving into a kind smile though with a lack of warmth in his eyes. Instead replaced by an empty, clinical look.

”I don’t mean to be a bother ma’am, but I’m here to offer you a proposal you’re sure to like,” he states in a neutral tone, having uttered a variation of those words dozens of times. “A way to better improve your current economic situation.”

Your body tenses as your eyes dart over his figure eyeing the suitcase, no doubt analyzing him as a threat. “Look I already said I’d pay him back!” He watches as you chuck the cigarette to the ground and stomp on it. “If he keeps rushing me like this then don’t expect to get a single won out of me! I don’t give a shit who he is!” Your volume rises as you take a step back, ready to sprint if needed.

He raises his arm in surrender. “That’s not what I’m here for. As I’ve stated, I only want to help.” His mind is conjuring up the best way to ease the tension.

He hesitantly takes a step forward.

Your eyes immediately look back down. “What’s in the case?”

Another step.

“I work for a group of people whose only interest is to help those who are struggling. Our objective being to ease the burden of the majority.” He swiftly places the case at the base of the fountain, unlocking the latch but leaving it closed. “See for yourself.”

You were the one to take the final step, closing the gap between the two of you. You gave him one more skeptical look before you focused all of your attention on what was in front of you. Slowly, both hands reached out and flipped the top wide open. Your eyes widened as you took in the contents of what was inside, or more specifically, the big wads of cash.

You remained silent, frozen as a statue as you simply stared. In an instant, you whipped your head in his direction. You took the time to study him, your mouth slightly agape and a certain look in your eye he couldn't quite place. A couple of seconds passed, you clamped your mouth shut and swallowed thickly, licking your lips before you finally managed to whisper, "What do you want?"

His mouth quirked upward in a smirk. Got you. "I'd like to play a game."

You belted out a high-pitched, contorted laugh. A childlike glee completely overcoming you. "Ab-so-fucking-lutely," you grinned from ear to ear, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

It dawned on him what that look in your gaze was...

Unstable.

A jolt of thrill shoots down his spine. "I'm sure you're familiar with the game ddakji," he reaches until he grabs the two colorful squares, carefully placing the red one on the ground, "for every time your square manages to flip mine, I will pay you 100,000 won."

You nod enthusiastically, your hand shooting out as he draws his hand in at the same time. "However, if you lose...you must pay me back the same amount."

You snatched the piece from him. “Deal.” You don't waste a single moment in hurling it, the force of the impact causing the sound to ricochet like a gunshot. The square goes flying, becoming a red blur. It stays in the air for a couple of seconds, but that time is enough for the experienced recruiter to know that you've already won. By the time it hits the ground, he doesn't even have to look to know it's flipped.

You look up expectantly at him.

He glances at her, jaw clenching. Well, this isn't how it usually goes. Before he can move to pay you, your voice cuts through the silence. "From the look on your face, you didn't want me to win, correct?" The lack of response on his part encourages you to continue. "How about, instead of doing whatever the hell you were thinking, I propose a new rule," you lean forward, your eyes sparkling with mirth, "we both keep throwing until one of us loses. If I win...you give me everything that's in that case."

"And what if I win?"

Your mouth twists into a devilish smirk. "Don't worry, you won't."

His eyes look you up and down, scanning you. His hands twitch in anticipation at the challenge, adrenaline manifesting itself as electricity in his veins. His bruised ego from losing the first round combined with his competitive nature was enough to make him agree. This was not part of the plan. He could just give you the money, the card, and go about his day like he has so many times before. He has no reason to play along other than he just wants to beat you.

"Alright," his previously fabricated smile now becoming genuine, "my turn."

With renewed vigor, he launches his square and as expected, it flips. He lets out an arrogant chuckle as he fixes his suit and stands up straight, his lips stretching into a satisfied smile.

This cycle continued for multiple rounds, the money long forgotten. The need to succeed fueled the violent fire between the two of you. After a while, he lost all track of time, fixating all of his attention solely on the game.

By now, his hair was disheveled and sweat dripped down his forehead. He panted as he recovered, his arm muscles aching from the consistent use. It was taking more energy than he was willing to admit in order to keep going but like hell if he'd let exhaustion be the cause of failing.

On his turn, he prepared himself to once again launch the disc. He readied himself, drawing his arm back and—

His eyes suddenly flickered to your lips, where your tongue darted out lick them. He watches intensely at your now damp, chapped lips, mouth slightly parted as you breathe heavily from fatigue.

In his moment of distraction, the square slips from his hand. He scrambles quickly to catch it but it's too late...

He's lost.

There is a long pause of silence, before your high-pitched cackle cuts through the air. His eyes widen in shock, the realization slowly setting in.

How...

He breathes out deeply through his nose, trying his best to compose himself. What the hell was that? How on earth could he have lost? He Never. Loses. He doesn't have any longer to dwell on the fact as you practically skip in joy to the case, already counting the amount. All of this because you managed to distract him.

Your voice soon interrupts his thoughts. "Maybe the next time you want to win, you might try not to let your eyes stray so far..." you say as you wink.

How did you even notice? Wait...was that on purpose? He clenches his fists until they turn white, the thought making his blood boil. He has half the mind to kill you and call it an accident just to quell his anger.

He closes his eyes in frustration. No, I can't ruin the games.

He takes in a couple of deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. Once he knows that his voice won't betray any conflict he feels, he speaks again, "you know, there are other games such as the one we just played. And for much larger prizes as well."

He's back in his element, his persuasive tone of voice exuding reliability. He hands you the card, explaining how it works, how to enlist, and so on.

By the time he finishes his speech, you look mostly convinced. After inspecting the card more closely, your stare finds his, "I appreciate what you have done and thank you for the opportunity. I will consider your offer. If I do accept know it will only be due to a singular fact," your head leans closer, voice lowering to a whisper and your breath fanning over his, "I never lose"

On that note, you step back and walk away, never once turning to glance back at him. You soon disappear into the dark Seoul night, shadows blending with that of buildings and trees.

He lets out a small huff in amusement. If that is true, then he's excited to see how you'll fare in the games.

please don't be a silent reader i love reading comments and hearing your thoughts.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Malleus, Vil, Floyd, Jamil and Rook, please! Are waiting outside the building for (their crush) MC so they can walk together. They hear a BOOM and "AHHHHHHHHH" and suddenly they catch MC, who was sent flying out the 2nd story window by a misdirected spell blast. In thanks for catching her, she gives them a sincere and sweet kiss on the cheek? Thank you!!!!!!

Floyd Leech: 

You are incredibly thankful you caught Floyd on a good day, as splatting on the ground would be preferable to landing on an already irritated eel. He tilted his head as he stared at the window you flew out of, asking with a pout why you were having fun without him. Once his questioning is over (he wanted to recreate the experiment gone wrong with his VERY lucky lab partner next period), he asked what his prize was for catching you. You ignore the devious pointed grin to give him a kiss on his cheek, a real mistake as he squeezed you extra tight until he felt he was properly compensated in kisses.

Jamil Viper: 

Jamil thinks, at first, that he should’ve let you fall on your ass but his ‘don’t let the rich idiot die’ training kicked in automatically. He stared at you with a raised eyebrow, his disappointed mother look getting you to confess immediately to what had gone wrong. When you thank him he’s suddenly flustered, telling you not to bring him into your shenanigans unnecessarily as a real ‘thanks’. When you offered up a kiss on the cheek Jamil found himself thrown off balance again, doing his best to glare and cursing himself for only ever finding trouble.

Malleus Draconia: 

Malleus caught you with total ease, looking at you in his arms with an amused smirk on his face. He asked if you were alright, giving you a once over before carefully setting you back on the ground (you don’t think you’ve ever been that high up). Before you’re down though you find yourself wrapped around his neck, your lips pressed hastily against his cheek. Your boldness had always amused him and this was no different, Malleus asking if he could get another if he continued to hold you.

Rook Hunt: 

Rook thought he might’ve smelled trouble in the air then, lo-and-behold — a beautiful specimen was offered from the heavens above, falling directly into his strong arms within the blink of an eye. He is painfully curious on how you managed to get in a situation like that, having to compliment your ability to stay stunning even while wildly flying through the air in a panic. He insisted you invite him next time, even the sweet kiss on the cheek you give not enough as he refused to put you down until you agreed to bring him on your next adventure.

Vil Schoenheit: 

You can’t help but note that, despite his slim, sleek physique, Vil is actually quite strong. He doesn’t have any trouble holding you in his arms, sighing and asking what caused such a scene. He takes it in stride but you can see he wants to give a thorough lecture (and perhaps a much less elegant ass-kicking) to the person who almost caused you harm. Now, if you were the culprit behind your own almost demise you’d be on the receiving side of his withering glare, no kisses able to save you from the scolding he delivered.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Holiday request: the audit

"What time is your bedtime?" Uncle demands just as Damian is about to go to Batcave to suit up. For a moment, he fights the urge to proclaim he doesn't have a bedtime because he is not a child. Then he remembers that Uncle had been the one to install the anti-child soldier rule in the League of Assassins.

He allowed them to be trained to defend themselves and the organization but not to be sent on missions or be trained to the point he claimed as "abusive." Uncle believed that the young of Infinity Island should be treated like children and that doing so was not a means of offense.

Instead, Uncle thought providing a peaceful and gentle childhood was a gift. Mother claimed it created weaklings, which is why Damian had pushed himself to this point of skill, but even she had known that her brother's wrath would fall upon her if her more intense training techniques were introduced to him too early.

Damian would like to believe he was one of the best in the League of Assassins, but he knew he wasn't. Uncle Daniel's rule made it hard for him to advance against larger opponents.

He could best everyone in his age group in controlled duels and sparring, and he stood a great chance against the idiots in Gotham streets, but only because none of them had any official training.

In the beginning of his life in Gotham, Damian consistently lingers in the background in battles against enemies such as Bane, Killer Croc, or Scarecrow. He was skilled enough to know he would be a liability if he attempted to take a point, but Father had quickly adjusted his training, and Damian was slowly but surely advancing in his skill set.

Mother would be pleased to learn he was better than the assassin's two age groups above him and that his pain tolerance hide rose. Uncle Daniel had likely noticed as well.

He knew it was due to all those hours out in the field of Gotham's darkest streets.

It had been one of the first things he had been displeased with Father over, and if he wanted his plan to work, he needed to make the sacrifice.

"Nine o'clock," he grumbles, crossing his arms. "Nine thirty if it's not a school day."

Uncle Daniel smiles proudly, leaning back into the doorframe of Father's office. The rest of Father's brood stands around looking confused as Uncle shoots Father a smug look, only to frown at Father's glee. Even someone as great as his uncle had thought Father wanted them on the field.

Not that they had all forced his hand. Damian should show him all the security his father had installed to keep him in the manor and the surveillance hours during which he broke through said security to fight crime.

In fact, Damian should asked Drake if he still had the video where Father had shouted at the top of his lungs, "For the last time, just STAY HOME and let me handle the EXTREMELY dangerous hostage situation, kids!"

Only to slap a hand over his face when Brown had taunted him through the coms. "You can't tell us what to do!"

"Yeah, B, you must learn to control your children." Todd's mockery was nearly drowned out by the sound of gunfire. "We're out of control."

"Damian can not stay home alone," Father says, snapping him from his thoughts. He's glancing at the other idiots in the room, who are all making faces, but this is just the opportunity Damian has been waiting for.

He's not about to let them ruin it with their stupid demand to join Father in the field.

He raises his chin, blurting out his demand. "If we all stay behind, Uncle Daniel shall go with you, Father. To keep you safe."

Both men look butler disgusted, which is what prompts Drake to speak up. "You know Bruce? I actually feel a little under the weather today. Maybe I can stay with Damian, and Mr. Fetnon can go for me."

"That won't be necessary when Steph-"

"Oh shoot B! I have this really big essay due tomorrow, and I was going to stay on coms tonight while I worked on it. I can't go with you. Sorry"

Father appears desperate when he flings his eyes to Richard, who only shrugs. "Sorry, Cass and I are going undercover tonight at the new club. I can't watch your back while trying to get party college kids to tell me where the new drugs are."

"Jason-"

"No."

"I guess I have no choice." Uncle Daniel sighed as if this was all a big chore that Damian had thrown at him. "I'll make sure your incompetence doesn't get you killed. Let's go."

Father's teeth are gritting, but when the visitor steps closer to whisper in his ear, all the protest drains from his body, and he, too, sighs wearily. Damian wished he knew what was said between them, but his uncle had covered his mouth, so he could not lip read.

"Fine. But no killing." Father bites, and Uncle scowls

"I don't kill. I know how precious any life can be." He seers, getting into Father's face. He stabs his pointer finger in the middle of Bruce's chest, pressing down roughly on every syllable.

Damian is about to step in, recognizing the rising anger in his mother's brother, only to watch, in real-time, as Father seems surprised by the comment. Much to his hopeful glee a slight blush rises on the man's cheekbones, even as he turns around to moved the clock.

Uncle rolls his eyes before sinking into the ground as Father vanishes from sight. The office has a long silence before Brown breaks it with a nasty snort.

Utterly mannerless, that one.

"Oh, the sexual tension! They will definitely be fuc-" She cackles, only to pause when her eyes land on Damian as if she had forgotten he was there. Brown reached up to pet down her hair, clearing her throat. "They seem like good friends."

"What? I don't believe you understand. Father and Uncle can barely stand each other."

Drake snickers. "Barely stand"

"Enough," Richard speaks up, popping open the top two buttons on his shirt. It's part of his disguise to look as alluring as possible, though Damian doubts someone would give an idiot who can't correctly dress himself the time of day. "Let's leave Bruce and our house guest alone. We all have jobs, so Steph, get on coms, Tim, get some chicken soap, and Damian, get to bed."

"Wait, I'm not actually sick-" Drake protests, but Richard walks right through his protest. He pushes the idiot out of the office and marches him down the hall toward the kitchen.

Damian watches them go before glancing over his shoulder to where Brown vanishes from sight down the pole to the Batcave in a flash of yellow hair. He nearly joins her, but Uncle would have his head when- and it would be when, not if- he found out he wasn't sleeping.

He still has a year to get them together. He must make sacrifices that wound his pride, such as these. Damian pouts to his room but changes into his sleepwear and brushes his teeth anyway.

His bedtime is only ten minutes away.

[bbyg4rl]

i'm your JJ ✧

cw: JJ x Kie's sister!reader, fluff, slight allusion to sex, happy ending !

summary: JJ cant avoid his feelings for his friend's sister anymore. inspired by this request.

a/n: this lowkey so cute thanks i started kicking my legs while writing LMAO hope this is what u expected anon <3

You were just grabbing a glass of juice and making your way back to your room when your sister, Kie, stormed into your room behind you.

"I'm having JJ over tonight. Don't come out of your room."

"It's my house too. I'll come out if I want to" you shot back.

"Just don't, okay? you're annoying enough as it is" she replied, rolling her eyes as she walked out.

time jump

you buried yourself in your pillows trying your best to drown out the sound of the movie playing downstairs. you could faintly hear your sister make excuses to JJ about why you weren't hanging out with them, claiming you "weren't feeling well". The lie made you want to storm down and snap at her, but every time you reached for the door handle, Kie's words struck you like an alarm clock, the words froze you for a reason you couldn't quite discern and sent you back to your bed where you resumed trying to muffle the sounds of the tv.

suddenly, there was a knock at your bedroom door, you half-expected Kie to be on the other side, ready to take more shots at you but you were surprised to see JJ, he softly opened the door, searching for your face in the messy room. As soon as he spotted you, he rushed over and sat on your bedside, his hands gently reaching for your face.

"Hey, mama. how you feelin'?"

"Shouldn't you be downstairs with Kie?" you replied sarcastically.

"Don't answer my question with another question y/n. besides, your sister can handle herself for a little while. I'm here to check up on you, babycakes" he said, smiling at you as his hands combed through your hair.

You couldn’t help but smile at the nickname. "Thanks for checking up on me, JJ, but I’m fine. I just wanted to stay in my room today" you replied softly.

You didn't quite understand why you were covering for Kie. Maybe a little part of you felt guilty for feeling what you felt for JJ, especially since you knew Kie had a thing for him. She made it painfully clear, dropping hint after hint, but somehow, JJ seemed oblivious. His attention never strayed toward her. His eyes were always on you, never missing an opportunity to admire you, darting to you every time a joke left his lips.

Your train of thought was interrupted by JJ's calloused hand stroking your cheek.

"You're not really a 'stay in' kind of a person, mama. Tell me what's wrong, you know you can tell me anything. I'm your JJ"

You shot him a wry smile, "You're cute, JJ"

"You're just stating the obvious, baby" he quipped, flashing one of those smirks that always made your stomach flip.

"Why do you even wanna know what's wrong? You want me or something?" you teased.

"You have no idea how much I want you" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What?" Your eyes widened. Did he just say he wants you?

"Just come on down, babycakes" he said, cutting off any chance for a reply as he slipped his hands under you, lifting you bridal style. Before you knew it, he was carrying you downstairs.

You felt Kie's eyes boring holes into your back as JJ placed you on the couch beside Kie, pulling a blanket over you and settling in beside you. Your heart raced, waiting for an outburst to tear its way through your sister, knowing how much this must be killing her.

The three of you quietly settled in to watch the movie. That is, until you noticed JJ’s hand slowly inching closer to yours, eventually resting on top of it, his thumb occasionally swiping across the back of your hand.

As the movie went on, your mind wandered, You couldn’t help but notice how close JJ really was to you, his hand on top of yours, his knee brushing yours, his shark tooth necklace rising up and down on his chest with every breath he took.

An idea popped into your head, The movie wasn’t all that interesting anyway, it wouldn't hurt to spice it up now, would it?

you slipped your hand from under his and scooted closer, thigh pressing against as his. His breath hitched as you adjusted your blanket to cover his legs before resting your hand on his thigh, dangerously close to the growing tent in his shorts.

"Y/n" he whispered, voice strained, not daring to look at you.

"Hm?" you responded feigning innocence, as you moved your hand higher before abruptly pulling it away and standing up.

"I'm gonna get more popcorn" you declared, only then noticing that Kie had fallen asleep in her spot.

Grinning to yourself, you made your way to the kitchen, thoughts of JJ swirling in your mind. You were rummaging through the cabinets when you heard JJ’s heavy breathing behind you.

"What was that, Y/n"

"What was what?"

"You know what I'm talkin' about, mama." he growled, his tone low and agitated as his hand snaked around your waist pulling you into him.

"Don't do that again " he murmured, pressing a small kiss to your hair before walking back to the living room.

Your face flushed as you stood there, stunned. The difference between the JJ who had come to your room earlier and the man that had just pulled your ass into him excited you. He wasn't usually this bold with you, but lately his resolve seemed to be breaking and his control was faltering, his obsession with you becoming harder for him to hide. Not that it was ever really hidden.

Finally, you found the popcorn and returned to the living room. The rest of the night passed in relative silence, with only quiet glances exchanged between you and JJ.

When it was time for him to leave, he shot you a smirk and gave Kie a quick side hug before heading out the door. You made your way to your room and flopped onto your bed, only to hear a knock on your window moments later.

It was JJ, with a shit eating grin plastered to his face. You opened the window to let him in.

"JJ? I thought you left-"

Before you could finish, his lips were on yours.

Pulling away slightly, he looked into your eyes. "I couldn't leave without kissing you, I can't pretend no more, baby. I need you"

You smiled, pulling him back in for another kiss. You’d been waiting for this moment for so long. He slowly led you to your bed, laying you on your back as he climbed on top, his hands rested on your sides, as he deepened the kiss, his knee between your legs, teasing you.

You cupped his face, pulling it back to look at him. "What am I gonna tell Kie?"

"Tell her I’m your JJ."

check out my other works ! masterlist

[strawberrymochin]

𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑

synopsis- After the wind pillar sanemi shinazugawa bought you out from the brothel, things started to become a hassle for him. His heart seems to jolt sometimes; his breath hitches; tengen uzui, the sound pillar teases him out of no reason. What annoyed him the most was when you started appearing everywhere— in his thoughts, in his dreams but he didn't expected you to appear in the middle of his mission.....

Genre/ warnings- 18+ suggestive content, smut, marriage of convenience, dub-con, profanity, abuse, death, pregnancy, blood (tengen and giyu having their his best life teasing sanemi) minors don't interact.....

w.c- 4.8k (trust me once)

First part of 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 🎐...!

Here! Here get in! Get in!” the crow caws making circles above your head. 

He brought you a long distance, it's almost evening and infront of you in this huge mountain, which the passers by referred to as ‘mt. kaikoma’— stood a shrine-like structure. 

‘danna sama lives in a shrine?’ you thought.

The doors to the structure were made of wood with slight spacing, enough to take a peek inside. Curiosity leads you to follow your inner voice, peeking in through the gaps. 

Your eyes widen, seemingly confused, the interior was totally in contrast to the exterior structure. While it looked like a small shrine from the outside, the interior was much more spacious. In the center of it was a lofty mansion, surrounded by corridors which are probably l-shaped. Certain plants joined the greenery among the little shrubs peeking from the circular courtyard with an open roof. 

You spot a hint of pink. Maybe there was a sakura tree in there too. 

“get in already” you stumble at the crows words. “ehh...is it okay to enter?” you say pointing your head upwards to look at the flying crow. 

“do you plan to stay outside all night then?” your face scrunches up a little as the crow flew inside above the roof leaving you alone. 

You opened the doors slipping in the estate. This time taking a proper look inside at each detail you pointed out before and amongst those— you gasped, there was indeed a sakura tree. 

Upon returning, sanemi found the doors of his estate open and the corridors lit with lanterns. It's been two days since that incident. He was about to step inside the door frame, just when a rustling sound of leaves catches his attention. Having a demon near the estate of a slayer, especially of a hashira, was quite unlikely. 

The estates of hashiras were situated carefully and not so far from each other, enough to conceal themselves from any demon attack and maintain a steady flow of training and maintenance of corps.

Stepping back, he grabs the hilt of his sword, turning around in a swift movement. “d-danna sama?!” You said, gulping as you notice him having his hand close enough to his katana to attack. 

Sanemi's muscles unconsciously relax a bit upon seeing you. “why are you roaming around outside late at night?” he asked, removing his hands from the sword as speculative eyes watched you. “oh....I went outside after lunch for a walk and then lost my way...so it took a while.” you say lowering your head, fingers fiddling as you raise your eyes nervously. 

Sanemi contemplated your image for a while, before turning back and entering the estate. “Get in.” 

“ah...yes.”

“i will get the dinner ready for you as soon as possible. Please take a bath till then.” you said, closing the shoji doors. Sanemi eyed you from the corner of his eye before making his way to the bathroom. 

Sanemi let the towel fall at his feet before soaking in the hot water. He had made a rash decision. Acting upon impulse was something sanemi never did. 

And yet. 

And yet he asked you to wait for him till he gets home. 

Ridiculous. Sanemi scoffed at himself, realizing he could have turned away ignoring your cries. Or maybe he shouldn't have stayed the night over there at the brothel lady's request. A burning sensation crept up his ears.

‘Danna sama’ you've addressed, all his way back, he couldn't focus on one thing. He couldn't tell if he was terribly tired, overwhelming himself from all those missions or he was slacking off. “Nonsense,”  he mumbled, “a hashira can never slack off.”

A hashira can never slack off— because they simply can't afford to do so. 

‘Danna sama’ your voice resonated in his ears once again. For a second, he's not sure either you're calling him or he's just hearing things. Irritated, another sigh passes his lips.

But what will he do? 

Sooner or later this news is bound to spread. What will he say to ubuyashiki? 

“evening! Shinazugawa sama,” a deep voice reverberated among the damp air. Sanemi didn't bother to look up from the tub. He knew, sooner or later this was about to happen, “it's past evening.” said sanemi. 

“oh my bad,” the crow of ubuyashiki announced his apologies from the small square sized window right above the bathtub, the sole source of little ventilation. “i suppose you already know the reason for my late visit,” the crow waited patiently for an answer. When none came, he continued “ oyakata sama wants to summon you at the headquarters tomorrow morning,” sanemi's eyes darted upwards, head still facing the water, “i hope you present yourself. Till then have a good time, shinazugawa sama.” 

When the sound of the flapping of the wings trailed down into nothingness, sanemi realized he's gone. 

Drowning himself completely in hot water, he tried to imagine the possible scenarios, which can happen upon confronting ubuyashiki tomorrow. What questions will he ask? Will the other hashiras also be present? Will ubuyashiki's voice still be gentle and calming, similar to his mother's, for him? 

Unable to find an answer, and a shortage of oxygen pulls sanemi out of the water. Silver strands of hair, previously slithering in water, now sticking to his forehead as droplets of water dripped down his face.

He ran a big palm combing his hair back, getting out of the bath. Sitting there for this long is basically pointless. He dresses himself in a loose yukata, mentally preparing himself for the following day. 

After arranging the dishes on the low table, you smoothen out your kimono as you take a seat on the opposite side of the low table. You kept the doors wide open so that you know if he's done bathing and is ready for dinner. This will be your first time  serving dinner to him. All of a sudden you found yourself questioning if the food you made had enough salt, if the miso soup had the perfect texture, if the rice were evenly cooked. Settling your eyes on the corridors you waited for him, ignoring your heart beating like thunder in clouds. 

Sanemi passed the corridor without even sparing you a look. “d-danna sama!” you rise abruptly wanting to stop him, “ won't you eat?” 

“shinazugawa” he said, “and i would like to eat alone” he continued his tracks again leaving you dumbfounded. 

That night went by shortly, you placed the tray in his room and left. For a second you wanted to ask him, if he's mad at you for leaving the house unlocked or wandering around in the forest after dark. However you say nothing but wish him a good night as you take your leave. 

Upon waking up the next morning you found sanemi's room empty. Assuming he went to work early, you decided to skip on breakfast as you didn't felt like eating. 

Two white haired girls played outside as sanemi waited for ubuyashiki to make his appearance. He felt his stomach churn a bit, walking back and forth, which came to halt as the realization hit him like a sword through his heart. 

He was nervous. 

“sanemi” , the voice of ubuyashiki, made him kneel impulsively. “my child, how was the mission? I hope you didn't get hurt.” 

“The mission was fine. The demons were indeed lurking around that village; however, i killed each one of them.” sanemi wondered if this is the reason he was summoned. Or it's better to say he hoped this was the reason he was summoned. 

“i heard you found a wife during the mission...” sanemi fell silent to his words. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about in the whole world. 

“congratulations” said ubuyashiki. “it's not like that oyakata sam—” 

“i know what happened sanemi......and I'm glad to know you saved her.” 

The chatter of the girls turned to a distant laughter. 

A hand caressed sanemi's head. It felt warm and fuzzy. Fond memories gushed in a sudden moment, as if it were his mother, caressing him for protecting his siblings from his dad. 

“Sanemi,” ubuyashiki's voice trailed down like honey, soothing the wounds, which even he wasn't aware of, “do you know what differentiates humans from demons?” ubuyashiki guided sanemi by his shoulders, making him stand from his kneeling position. “it's our emotions. Our humanity. Our love.....no matter how much they try, they aren't capable of selflessness.” ubuyashiki smiles a bit, “its okay to show our emotions, sanemi. Acting upon it doesn't makes us weak.” 

“oyakata sama” 

“i'm glad to see you start a family. Maybe this way you will be able to mend the misunderstandings with your loved ones.” said ubuyashiki. 

Genya. He was talking about genya. 

“Amane and i would love to meet your wife. So will be the other hashiras. Bring her once she gets accustomed to her new environment.” 

Sanemi bows as ubuyashiki takes his leave. 

But she's not my wife. And before sanemi could say that ubuyashiki was already gone. He stood there, one eye twitching. 

One of the white haired girls stumbled onto him. The girls bowed to him, so did he before leaving. 

I'm cooked for sure. 

Half way back home, sorai came cawing to him in a hurry. Extending his arm, he let his crow sit and catch it's breath before, gabbling on the reason for its appearance. 

Sanemi half-expected a new mission on his way but what he didn't expect was, “The girl! The girl.... unconscious. The girl!” 

Sanemi felt as if a Lightning bolt landed on his head, frying his brains. A million thoughts ran through his head. Forgetting sorai, he rushed back to his estate as the poor bird tried to keep himself afloat in the air. 

The force of sanemi sliding the doors open, caused some of the wood to splinter as he strode across the rooms wanting to find you. 

His movements comes to halt, when his eyes finally point out your senseless body, on the kitchen floor. 

Something stopped. Sanemi didn't recognise it but it was familiar. 

He grabs a gourd, bending down as he lifts your body, so that your head is laid against his chest. Sprinkling some water from the gourd, he taps lightly on your cheeks, as you slowly gain your consciousness. 

Sanemi let out an exaggerated breath, relaxing his once knitted eyebrows. 

“you okay?” the feeling of deja vu ran through your veins. You've heard this question before, in the same gravelly voice. Fluttering your eyelids open, you see those same lilac eyes, much closer than last time. 

What happened? You thought. 

A moment later you were stricken with reality— the embarrassingly close position; the heaving of his open chest, where your head laid; the way his face was so close that you had to fight off the urge not to touch and inspect his scars. 

“y-yeah…I am,” you said, swiggling out of his arms maintaining a healthy space between you two. “then mind explaining how you got here?” 

“ahh… I'm sorry to make you worry Danna sama….but you see—” you tried to change the topics. 

“you don't have to explain, if you aren't feeling well. Let's take you to the kocho’s hospital….” he whispered the last part as if he was talking to himself. 

But wait! Kocho? Who's kocho?! Causing your master problems such as taking you to a hospital would be so so wrong. What if he abandons you and then you will have nowhere to go. 

You cursed yourself for skipping breakfast.

“i'm fine really….it's just that..” 

“You don't seem so.”

“I skipped breakfast and got dizzy. Nothing serious. I apologize for making you concerned about nonsensical things.” you bat the breeze to him, not wanting to take this conversation any further. 

For seconds sanemi says nothing. He eyes around the kitchen seeing the meals for lunch cooking. 

“I will have lunch here. Get up and wash your face and bring the meals once it's done.” he says as you get a bit happy to avoid the hospital topic. “And you will have your lunch with me. Don't skip meals from now on.” 

“yes.”

Sanemi left the kitchen to your privacy and sighed. You must've not taken your breakfast since he left early. He wondered if you had dinner last night. 

The day went by fast and blurry. You are with sanemi and then he left for demon hunting. He told you to lock all doors and windows and burn  wisteria incense before sleeping. “don’t wander alone at night. I will not be back before tomorrow evening…also there's something I want to discuss after I return…so you better not skip meals again and lie unconscious.” he said.

“Yes danna sama.” You replied before he disappeared in a blink of an eye. 

As the sun rose high, you got down with your chores of the day. Sanemi was supposed to be returning this evening. However something didn't sit right, no matter what you were feeling anxious. He said he needs to discuss something with you. Will he ask you to go away? Will you be abandoned again? Just like your dad will he disappear too? Shaking your head out of these worries you return back mopping the wooden floors. 

The day soon slipped away and it's almost night. There were no door knocks or any sound of someone approaching. Uncertainty filled your mind with lots of thoughts and unable to stop them you decide to step outside and wait for him, even though he asked you not to step out after sunset. 

You make your way fast to the main door and slowly open it with a creaking sound. The pouch of wisteria was secured tight on your waistband and with a lantern in your hand you waited outside for him to return. 

Few hours slip away again but there's no sign of any humane presence. You felt anxiety gnawing the insides of your stomach. Each second felt like eternity to you. He will be safe right? It's not like something happened to him. Right?

“master…hospitalized. Master! Hospitalized!” sorai came cawing to you. The lantern in your hands fell to the ground. It's light diminishing as tears started welling up your eyes.

You followed sorai for the rest of the path till you reached a huge estate, quite similar yet different from sanemi’s. In Front of what seemed like a main door stood a girl few years younger than you. Her hair had light streaks of blue, similar to the color of her eyes. She waved at you, “y/n san?” 

“Where’s danna sama? He's not much injured is he? How did this even happen?” You threw a bunch of questions at her before she could even answer the first one. 

“He's fine. I'm aoi. Follow me and I will take you to him. Okay? Calm down.” she said while escorting you inside as you follow her till you reach a corridor with several rooms. She opened the door of one of the rooms and signaled you to go inside. 

Your feets felt heavy while walking. You don't know what took over you but even when you were already inside the room you couldn't look up at him. It's as if you know that you won't be able to handle seeing him hurt. “Won't you look at me?” His gravelly voice soothed your ears as you slowly lifted your head up. 

His right hand was bandaged tightly. Some of it was even soaked in blood. Other than that it was fine. He was fine, sitting at the bed, looking at you with those same eyes. Relief washed down your entire body before you let out your breath which even you didn't know how long you were holding it for.  You feel something wet on your face and when you bring your hands up to your eyes, wiping it off, it were your tears. 

Sanemi’s eyes widened at you. “You said you will be fine.” Your voice cracks as you close the distance between you two. “I'm fine.” He replies gulping. 

“Liar.” 

“I'm not lying. I'm fine.”

“It will leave another scar.” sanemi eyes at you quite a while, before shifting his gaze to the moon outside the window.

“Do you not like it?” 

Before you could answer him, a girl with purple haori patterned with butterfly wings, brought some medicines. “OMG! Y/n san are you?” 

You nod your head smiling weakly at her. She's so beautiful. “I never imagined shinazugawa san getting a wife,” sanemi started coughing when the girl mentioned you as his wife. “I'm so happy. You're so beautiful too, I bet he got lucky!” You looked at sanemi who's avoiding your gaze, flustered wondering what to answer her. 

“I'm kocho shinobu— the insect hashira.” ‘Oh’ you thought, so this was the hospital he was talking about last day. 

“You don't need to be worried, the wound isn't that deep but it will surely leave another scar.” She said while fumbling with medicines. 

“it’s nothing.” Sanemi grumbles. 

“You shouldn't be like that. Even if the wound isn't deep it can surely catch infections.” 

Shinobu chuckles at sanemi getting quiet at your scoldings. She redresses the wound and gives him some medicines. “Y/n san, I'm glad to be the first one to see you of all harshiras. I believe we can get along well.” 

“Yeah, I'm grateful to you. Thanks for being so kind to me and danna sama.” Shinobu chuckles again, directing a teasing look at sanemi, who was currently admiring the ceiling, before smiling at you. “I will see you at the headquarters. Take care.” 

You bow at her, in confusion. The headquarters? Sanemi, who might have picked up on your confusion, clears his throat, “our oyakata sama wants you to meet all the other hashiras. So we will be going to the headquarters this coming Sunday.” 

“Oh.” 

Sanemi hummed, still admiring the bland ceilings.

You got ready in a kimono, which sanemi brought you one random night and kept outside your room. You thanked him the next day and he just nodded. The kimono had blue flower printed over pink fabric with delicate handmade embroidery leaves. It was so beautiful that you almost felt undeserving of it. Today was the day he was taking you to visit the headquarters. 

You were nervous. So was sanemi. He didn't met with any other pillars in the span of these days. And he couldn't even imagine how awkward it would be to meet one. 

Sanemi wondered what iguro would say to him once he finds out about you. Just a few months ago he bluffed infront of him that he never intends to have a life outside slaying or even look for a wife. The fact that he wasn't bluffing, it was what he'd planned all the way. He never wanted it for himself. Rather he wanted it for genya. He wanted him to have a family, a family which sanemi could protect, a family which he could see flourishing. 

But genya chose to follow his path. 

Be a demon slayer when he can't even use a breathing technique. Everytime sanemi gets a news of him being sent to a mission, he gets anxious. What if—

“Danna sama…” 

“Huh?” He saw you wearing the kimono he brought for you. And you looked beautiful. Gorgeous even. As if you were made of porcelain, pure white porcelain painted in several colors and polished till it glossed. 

He gulped. Your neck was visible. It was slender and smooth. He couldn't help but wonder how'd it feel if it were kissed by his lips. His breath hitched as he directed his gaze away from you. “Let's go.” He said and without bothering to look at you he kept walking ahead with you following him behind. 

The headquarters was an estate even bigger than the previous estates you'd been to. It's even bigger than the biggest brothel in the entertainment district. Its gates are even more magnificent than those of the wind estate. The gates are of polished woods and the courtyard was twice the area of the winds’. There was even a small fish pond at the right of the courtyard. Several trees adorned the scenery and after what seemed a long walk you came to see a group of people awaiting for sanemi. Their gaze on him pierced high. Among them,  you spot shinobu kocho, the insect hashira and bow at her. She reciprocates your actions while another girl of similar age and pink hair squeals out of excitement. 

Sanemi knew this was a bad idea. Considering he hasn't even cleared the misunderstanding of them thinking you are his betrothed. It's true he did buy you out from the brothel but he indeed had no intentions of getting a wife. 

He didn't turn back once in the way not wanting to look at you. Even he didn't know why but the moment he looks at you it's difficult to look at anything else. 

He felt iguro glaring at him. Worse even he could feel tengen’s grin and worse even giyu looking at him with his dead eyes. 

“Y/n san! I'm glad to see you here!” Shinobu said smiling at you, which you gladly reciprocated. 

“Hii! I'm mitsuri kanroji, the love hashira.” She greeted you with the biggest smiles. 

“Muichiro tokito, mist hashira” 

“I’m Himejima gyomei, the stone hashira. I hope shinazugawa treats you well.” 

The other hashiras introduced themselves too and were busy chatting with you while waiting for ubuyashiki. 

Tengen slapped his big palm on sanemi's back. 

“Never thought I'd see you getting married. I hope you can please her well.” He says laughing. He was thankful you were at a distance far away enough not to hear him speaking nonsense. “shut up.” 

“What? You do know how to please her…do you?” 

“I know how to protect her.” 

“Tch tch tch, protection isn't the thing you can always please a woman with. I knew it, you're a virgin, aren't you?” Sanemi almost choked on his own saliva. He again thanked you for being far away to overhear.

“The fuc—” 

“Boy, I can teach you. I've got three wives and I'm experienced in pleasing them.” tengen cocked an eyebrow at him, whereas sanemi tightened a fist to throw a blow at him. Tengen dodged it away laughing. Iguro was flustered enough to be near them and didn't wanted to be part of it, so he trailed away to mitsuri. Giyu stood watching tengen laughing at sanemi with his dead eyes. 

“What?” Sanemi asked annoyed.

“I think you should listen to uzui, if you're planning to keep a wife.” 

“Shut up fucker.” 

Soon ubuyashiki makes his appearance and introduces himself to you. “I see you've got quite lucky sanemi. Your wife is beautiful.” He felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment, so did yours but none of you could muster anything except thanks. 

Everyone gave some presents to you as if welcoming you into their family. Something you didn't have ever since your father sold you off. 

Tengen bent down his head to sanemi's level.

“You sure you don't wanna learn. You just gotta be skillful with your fingers and hip—”

“Shut up!” 

“This is the fifth time you're visiting the hospital. How many times do I have to say there's nothing wrong with you?” Shinobu says annoyed that sanemi keeps visiting and disturbing the other patients. 

“I keep having hallucinations. Hearing stuff and also there's problems with breathing. And my heart sometimes…it feels odd.” 

“Does it? What exactly do you see, shinazugawa san?” 

“l…I see y/n.” 

“Let me guess, you hear y/n san’s voice. And your breath hitches everytime you see her and sometimes your heart beats rapidly around her and maybe you start to sweat too.” 

“....yeah.” 

“Please leave.” 

“Huh?” 

“Stop wasting my time and please leave shinazugawa san this is the last warning or k might just poison you.” Shinobu said, preventing the very thin line of her masked demeanor from tearing away.

Things have been weird. It's really weird. And it's becoming a hassle for him to keep up with his work. Or is he slacking off? No, a hashira can never slack off. 

But he couldn't focus on training. During breaks he sees you, when you are at the estate. After slaying demons, on the way back home your voice echoes in his head. ‘danna sama’ it says. He's slowly losing his mind. He's having thoughts he shouldn't have. Moreover his hands are becoming sweaty and clammy around you. He doesn't want to be near you yet misses you dearly when you aren't around. 

Something is clearly wrong with him, yet shinobu never takes him seriously. 

Today he's on a mission again. A demon is seen lurking around an abandoned house, at the outskirts of Morikami village. He's supposed to slay that and save the village people. As per the kasugai crows, the demon is supposed to lure and feed on young boys. However the main thing odd about this demon is when one human’s abducted none are aware of one's disappearance until the next morning when the abducted persons clothes are found on random roads. It seems like the person’s existence is erased from people's minds. 

The village people looked unhealthy as if their energy were sucked out. The air had a hint of sweet musks which isn't normal. Sanemi, while exploring the village and taking in the surroundings, felt odd and dizzy. The smell was bothering him too much. 

Time flows by and the moon's out again, so will be the demons. Sanemi found himself a hiding place on an oak tree concealing his presence, keeping his vision tight on the abandoned houses. There were a bunch of them. He waited long for the demon to take action. However nothing happened. Confused and frustrated, sanemi got down from the tree, deciding to infiltrate each one of those houses and kill the demon. 

As soon as his feet touched the ground, there were sounds, several sounds of people running. He turned around checking his surroundings, hand tight on the hilt of his sword. There was no presence of any humans. The surroundings grew more misty. Sanemi was about to turn back when he felt someone rushing at him. With one swift motion he swung the sword at the demon. It stopped midway, falling to the ground. It's head rolling upto sanemi's feet. He's dead. “Pfft shouldn't mess with sanemi shinazugawa…”

But wasn't it too simple? Before he could think any more, someone tapped on his shoulders. He turned swiftly ready to attack at any moment but halted his actions midway. It was you. Here in front of him in the middle of the night. His heart jolted again, you wore the same kimono which he gifted you. But wait, this isn't time to admire you. “didn’t I tell you not to get out at night! What if—” you put a finger to his lips silencing him. “Shh!” You blinked at him, slowly, your other hand lacing your fingers with him before you dragged him into one of those abandoned houses. Sanemi huffed out a ragged breath, his vision going blurry. You looked so beautiful under the moonlight gleaming on your iridescent skin. So ephemeral, so selcouth. He followed you like a lost puppy, without any protests. The only thing that lingered in his mind and in his vision was you. Soon you guided sanemi into the house, the musk smell was even stronger than before. Your hands now fumble with his clothings, stripping him out of his haori first. You proceed, snaking your hands around his shoulders hugging him. Your skin is ice cold against his erubescent skin. “I want you.” Your voice poured in his ears with echoing lucidity. “Yes.” 

“I want you to be mine sanemi.” 

“Yes.” Sanemi replied. You bring your mouth closer to his. Your lips inches apart to kiss. “Yes, have me.” sanemi closes his eyes, ready for you to have him.

To melt in your arms. 

To be yours and only yours. 

‘I want you to be mine sanemi.’ 

His eyes flew open, pushing you off his body, drawing himself back and away from you. Or shall I say what illusioned you. 

You never addressed him as ‘sanemi’, even when he insisted you do so, you just kept calling him ‘danna-sama’. 

A chill runs over his spine as he takes in his surroundings. Several dead corpses are laid here and there. Floor messy with blood. He looked back at you as his mind grew foggy again. He shakes himself out of those. “Come back sanemi. I want you.” 

“In your dreams fucker.” Sanemi retreated back to the open fields as you cried out an ear piercing cry. It surely wasn't you. 

“You sure seem to have good eyes, hashira. I will gouge them out and have them as cherry in dessert. Come back. To the one you love the most.” The demon's eyes were glowing lucent, luring him back into the abandoned houses again. Urging him desperately to give in.

To the one he loves the most?

Wasn't she behind the estates of wind hashira?

time for taisho rumours:-

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a/n- so sorry i forgot posting this. i hope you like this...pweaswwwee lol. i will do the third part with smut i swear. comments and reblogs are appreciated.

© strawberrymochin 24 | plagiarism won't be tolerated |

[gavisuntiedboot]

Centimeters

Gavi x physiotherapist! Reader

A/N: no one asked for this but lord have mercy the photos from today had me heavy breathing

“Gavi, remember to behave yourself.”

“But I haven’t even-“

Ansu put a finger to his lips, eradicating whatever the end of that sentence was going to be.

“We’re about to go in for medical exams and the doctor is your girlfriend. Now I know you’re still pumped full of all your raging teenage hormones-“

“Ansu!”

“-but please, hermano. There cameras literally everywhere. So I’m begging you: behave.”

Gavi crossed his arms over his bare chest, pouting slightly at being scolded in front of the other boys. It was no secret that he was madly in love with his physiotherapist/girlfriend, but it never deterred the boys from teasing him incessantly. His injury over the last year had made things tough. She was at training more than he was, coming home with stories about practice drills and player banter that made his chest pang. He shook the thoughts from his head as he was called in to have his measurements taken.

Gavi shuffled into the room, white socks gliding against the floor. He fiddled with the bandage on his arm from the blood draw. He wished for a second that he could be childish, pull he is girl away from all her responsibilities and have a hand to hold while someone stabbed him with a needle. But he knew that now, close to graduating from her program and becoming lead physio, his girl was running the entire operation. So he was happy to just stand there, wide eyed and slack jawed watching his perfect girlfriend concentrate on something flashed across a computer screen.

Eventually, she felt a searing gaze burn holes into the dip of her back, and turned around to see her shirtless boyfriend biting his lip and smiling like an idiot. She suppressed her own grin, grabbing his file and her clipboard.

“Mr. Gavira - ready to be examined?”

There was a playfulness in her voice that, when mixed with her raised eyebrow and overwhelming stare, made Pablo blush.

“Of course, doctora. And please, take your time. Absolutely no need to rush.”

There was a light giggle bouncing around the room before she sat Pablo down, blood pressure cuff tight on his arm. Her fingers grazed his bicep, lingering longer than would be appropriate for any other player.

“Those scrubs look great on you, doctora.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t pick them out for me this morning, Pablo. Uncross your feet so that I can get a proper reading of your blood pressure.”

He spread his legs in the chair, shorts riding up his muscular thighs. He sat back in the chair, getting lost in watching his favorite person in the world fiddle with a blood pressure cuff.

“Any other players give you complements on the scrubs?”

“No Pablo - there is no one on this team suicidal enough to flirt with me or pay me a compliment while you’re here. Poor Lamine was scared to take off his shirt. He kept looking around expecting you to walk in.”

You tapped him on the arm, instructing him to stand for his height and weight measurement. He stood on the mark, and as she adjusted the piece above his head, he couldn’t help himself from wrapping an arm around her waist. He pulled her into himself, planting a quick kiss to her temple before she should pull away.

“Gavi!”

“What?”

“We’re at work!”

“Come on - no one is going to scold me. I’m poor Gavi with the bad knee.” He finished his sentence with a pout, big puppy dog eyes making him look younger than his already mere 19 years.

“Yes yes, poor little Gavi and his busted knee. I, however, am not an asset to club or country. Hansi will scold me in three languages if we get caught making out in here.

“Wait,” he turned his head swiftly, arms back around her waist. “Making out is an option?? Why didn’t you tell me.” His laughter disguised the sound of her lightly smacking his chest. She grabbed her clipboard again, and placed the metal piece gently on his head.

“173 cm. Tsk tsk Pablo - still as small as last year.”

He smiled at his girl, amusement painting his every feature.

“I don’t remember size ever being an issue for you, doctora. I’m still taller than you.”

“By like 10 cm. That’s not a lot.”

She took down his weight, and then grabbed the tape measure to start assessing specific areas of his body.

“Of course you would say 10 cm is not a lot. Since you’re used to 15 cm daily.” He earned another smack to the chest.

“Pablo!”

“Or maybe it’s 20? Maybe we should find out since you already have the measuring tape ready.” He suggested while his fingers played with the waistband of his shorts. She grabbed his wrist in fear, terrified of what Gavi was willing to do in a close room.

He laughed loudly, bringing both hands to cup his girl’s face. He felt the warmth of her cheeks on his palms, and her flustered state gave him a squeezing feeling in his chest. He brought his forehead to hers, waiting until she met his eyes.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to whip it out here in the medical room. No matter how much you may want it.”

She laughed gladly, fears subsiding and chest feeling lighter after Gavi’s light touch. She grabbed the measuring tape and began. She started with his neck, saying her measurements out loud before jotting them down on the form.

“Chest is 94 cm. Bigger than last year.”

Her fingers traced downwards, leaving heat on Gavi’s skin as they got to his hips.

“Hips are 81.5. Same as last year.”

Next, she traced across his collar bone and down his arm, tapping to silently tell him to flex his bicep.

“Biceps are- holy.”

“That’s not a number, preciosa.”

“Biceps are 43 cm. Ehem, bigger than last year. By a lot.”

The doctor tried to stabilize her slight tremble as she wrote down the measurements. She tried to calm herself, but something about Gavi’s new, fuller physique was making professionalism almost impossible. Gavi, the little shit, flexed his biceps again, pleased with the reaction he could evoke.

“Lift up your shorts, Gavi.”

“Don’t you mean pull down?”

“Are you okay, Pablo? You’re hornier than usual today. Do I need to get a spray bottle?”

“Surgeon called me today and cleared me for more vigorous activities. Want to help me follow the doctor’s orders?”

She got on her knees, wrapping the tape measure around his thigh.

“Thighs are 61 cm. Smaller than last year. You’ll need to work on that.”

“I had my ACL repaired.”

“Pshh excuses excuses.”

She finished her measurements, taking other important vitals and making sure to ask him all the medical clearance questions.

“What time are you finished today, Pablo?”

“2 pm. They don’t want us out for too long in the heat. How many guys are left?”

“About 6. I’ll probably be done before you, so I can go home and make lunch.”

He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her into him.

“No no, wait for me. We’ll leave together and go get food. You’ve had a hard day, let me treat you.”

“Every day is a hard day at work.”

He kept one arm around your shoulders as you walked him to the door.

“Then I’ll treat you every day. See you later, princesa.”

He hugged you into his side, and scampered off to the practice field. Neither Gavi nor his lady noticed the social media intern in the hall, who was quick to snap a picture of your embrace. The image of Gavi hugging his physiotherapist into his side and smiling from ear to ear set the internet into a flurry of comments.

New post from fcbarcelona: strong bonds between our players and medical staff 🫶

~~~

Hey do you think this is a cute dynamic? Wish you could read more about gavi x physiotherapist? Well you’re in luck! I have a ten part series of their love story in my master list!

Guys I love him so much. Anyways, like, comment, reblog, and check out the fundraiser in my pinned!! Love yall <3

[solbaby7]

Hii could I please get a neat Moscow mule with a salt rim ❤️

🧉here you go 💗💗

[ “i don’t like the way he / she looks at you” + smut + az ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

There had always been whispers about Illyrian males and the possessive streak that scorches its way through their veins. How it awakened with their first cry at birth and remains until their last breath.

You’d never thought you’d witness it firsthand.

Seeing that shift in Azriel’s features is unmistakable. The comfortable lines of his stoicism usually rests heavy along his brow bone, casting shadows along his eyes until the rich amber of his iris is stark in contrast. Even then, you’re used to seeing some semblance of warmth residing in there but the danger lingering within them now is staggering—forces the object of his surveillance to raise a hand to the back of their neck, eyes scanning the crowd for the culprit.

Az is too good to be caught though. Too skilled to be seen. A wolf that blends in seamlessly in a crowd full of sheep and he detects it immediately when another predator is present. “Who is that?”

You follow his line of sight, grumbling in distaste almost instantly when you notice that familiar tuft of curly blonde hair. “Tyson,” His brow raises at your tone, stance sturdy and arms crossed over his chest. You can feel the heat radiating off of him; briefly acknowledging the sentient shadows that nudge you in closer, partially hiding you behind his bulk. Protecting what they deemed as theirs. “—but all the Valkyrie’s call him tick.”

“Tick.”

“Yeah,” Your head nods along in confirmation, fingers hooking in the loops of your leathers to shimmy them up higher on your hips. “‘Cause he latches on like one—damn near impossible to shake.”

There’s a brief pause, a rumble of a noise vibrating through his chest like a lion in wait that rests on its haunches. Azriel’s prey drive is triggered, specially attuned to the way Tyson leans casually against a post, blue eyes trained on you while you warm up, taking time admiring the way your leathers fit like second skin. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

He’s skilled with a sword, Az notes, but that wandering eye is sure to get him killed. The shadowsinger can feel the way his fingers form into fists when Tyson’s gaze meanders down the slope of your back and settles around the generous curve of your ass. It wobbles temptingly as you practice, core tight and form stunning as all sorts of daggers are shot through the air at warp speed.

Every blade hits its respective bullseye.

You're one hell of a prize. One that Tyson so foolishly thinks he’s good enough to win.

Shoulders square, feet apart, knees ever so slightly bent. Even breaths as you line up the next blade, eying where you wish for it to land. "How does he look at me?"

"Like he wants to fuck you."

You pray he doesn't notice the way your body freezes in place, grip faltering on the hilt of your dagger. A thick swallow, throat clumsily clearing and lashes fluttering with nerves as you make a point to keep your face forward. "How would you know what that looks like?"

"Because, I want to fuck you." Thighs clench at the flippant way he says it—so casually. Like it's common knowledge. As if he hasn't just rendered you speechless and filled you full of want off one sentence alone. The smell of him engulfs you when he closes the distance, his chest to your back. Shadows teasing at the sides of your thighs like phantom palms that waste no time memorizing the new terrain. "You're holding that wrong."

"Am I?" More intelligent words are robbed right off of your tongue when he presses against you, the weight of his growing erection digging into your spine, teasing around the dimples that rest right above your ass. You can't help but lean into him, allowing him to adjust your fingers around the daggers hilt.

Never once had you thought such a simple touch could ignite this kind of spark within you. A fire that damn near burns you alive; it begins in the pit of your stomach, gnawing at organs and muscle, tearing through soft tendons and sinew in its desperation for release. "Like this, baby." His lips graze the curve of your ear, forcing goosebumps to assault your skin.

Azriel doesn't adjust a thing about your form. Instead, he openly gropes at the fat of your hips. Slides his palm possessively over the soft swell of your abdomen. Trails a hand up the crease of your breasts until a five finger grip is curling its way around your throat. "What are you doing?" You whisper, craning your neck to provide more access. Allowing the steady pressure squeezing at your jugular.

He's putting on one hell of a show.

Staring that blonde bastard right in the eye as he drags his nose along your temple, pressing his lips against your skin just because he can. "Pest control." A thick thigh nudges its way between your legs, the bulk of Azriel's body blocking you from all peering eyes but one.

Tyson vibrates with rage as Az guides your hips, dragging your clothed cunt along solid muscle until lids flutter and lips part. It's an agonizing kind of pleasure—one that's everything and nothing at the same time. Stimulating but not fully satisfying when you really crave the turgid length of his cock that strains against his leathers.

It takes a second too long to realize that he's not really doing this with your pleasure in mind.

He barely pays you any real attention as discreet shadows creep under your top to twist at taut nipples, squeezing and pulling until the heartbeat in your chest travels all the way down to your pussy.

No, he merely uses you as a pawn. Plucking and toying, licking and biting at the junction of your neck until all that can be scented on you is arousal and Illyrian. "Az, I'm gonna—"

"Not yet, sweet thing. Want him to look at you when you cum for me."