#honestly this is a test to see if I can still do the dresses and seems like I got it down! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

some-bunniii · 3 months ago

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Lucifer’s Three Lessons of Touch

・❥ You don’t like to be touched—even handshakes get you sweaty, but can the charming ruler of Hell change that?

x: reader is g/n. no use of y/n.

xx: wowowoow my first inbox request!! i honestly never thought i would do one but i finally had the motivation to write a situation like this so… enjoy!

The first time you met Lucifer, you flinched.

It wasn’t subtle, either. You physically recoiled, reeling back as if. You could still recall the shock in his crimson eyes, then the slight tilt of his head as he regarded you in front of all your friends at the hotel.

“Oh?” he had murmured, withdrawing his hand just before it could make contact with your shoulder. His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement. “Ah, I see. The rumors have gotten to you, haven’t they? Terrified I’ll smite you where you stand?”

Lucifer’s tone was teasing, but there was a curiosity beneath it, as if he was waiting to see if you’d confirm his suspicion.

Your stomach had twisted at the attention. You’d only been working at the Hazbin Hotel’s front desk for a few weeks, trying to keep your head down and do your job.

When Charlie had offered you a position, promising you a place that felt safe, you hadn’t expected him—Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell himself—to be so… present.

And touchy.

Lucifer was all casual affection, all warmth and charm wrapped up in a devilishly well-dressed package. A hand at Charlie’s back, a ruffle of Vaggie’s hair, a deliberate jab to Alastor’s side when he stood in the King’s path. He was the kind of person who made contact as naturally as breathing.

Which, unfortunately, didn’t mix well with you.

You weren’t sure why you told him. Maybe it was the way he had pulled back so easily, so quickly, without a hint of offense. Maybe it was because of the curious way he watched you afterward, instead of the disgust or cruel judgment like you would have expected for the ruler of Hell.

“I don’t like being touched,” you had admitted, your fingers curling against the desk. “It’s not—it’s not you, I just—”

Lucifer had held up a hand, stopping you with a disarming smile. “Say no more, darling.”

And he hadn’t pushed. Not once.

At first, you thought he’d forget, like he did everything. But Lucifer never forgot.

When he spoke to you, he kept an extra bit of space between you. When he passed you one of his famous, hand made rubber duckies, he set it on the desk rather than handing it directly to you.

Even when he cracked a joke or leaned in conspiratorially, it was always within a distance you could handle.

And then, slowly, softly, after a few months of casual flirtation and shared laughter over pancakes, Lucifer started testing the waters.

The first time, it had been your hand. A particularly stressful morning had left you rubbing at your temples, exhaustion laying heavy in your bones.

Lucifer had approached the desk, a steaming cup of invigorating tea in hand, and instead of setting it down, he very deliberately extended it toward you.

You hesitated.

“It’s not cursed,” he teased, wiggling the cup.

You huffed, but took it from him—fingers brushing, just barely, against his own. The contact lasted less than a second, but Lucifer’s grin was bright.

After that, it was gradual. The lightest press of his shoulder beside you when he leaned in to peek at your paperwork. A casual touch to your sleeve when he needed your attention.

Never too much. Never too soon.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but one day, you realized you didn’t flinch anymore.

And then, one quiet evening in the lobby, it happened.

You had been reading, curled up in one of the oversized lounge chairs near the front desk, when Lucifer sauntered in.

“Hard at work I see,” he mused, sliding his gaze across the empty lobby. “I’m sure everyone is aware the weight of the hotel rests on your shoulders.”

You glanced up from your book with a raised brow, already catching the glint of amusement in his unnatural eyes. “It’s my break.”

“That’s perfect!” He slid onto the cushion beside you. “Then you won’t mind me indulging for a moment.”

Then, slowly, he extended a hand. Open, palm-up, resting on the cushion between you.

An invitation. Nothing more.

Your heart hammered, but… you didn’t move away.

Instead, cautiously, you let your fingers drift toward his. The moment your fingertips brushed his palm, Lucifer’s expression softened, his own fingers closing just enough to lightly hold yours.

“See?” he murmured, warmth seeping from his touch. “Not so bad, is it?”

You exhaled, and slowly your shoulders sank, and the tension coiled beneath your skin slowly dissipated. His hand was warm—steady, safe. Something you hadn’t felt since before arriving to this dark place.

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t want to pull away.

Lucifer didn’t move either, didn’t tighten his grip or trace circles against your skin—he simply let you be, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

“Not so bad,” you finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Lucifer’s lips curled into something softer than his usual knowing smirk. A smile, real and warm, one that made the space between you feel smaller in a way that wasn’t suffocating, but comforting.

“I’m rather delightful to touch, you know.” Lucifer winked, tilting his black wrists closer to view. “Silky smooth, soft as sin, practically a luxury experience.”

You let out a small, breathy laugh. Of course he’d find a way to make it about himself.

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he murmured, his thumb shifting just slightly against your fingers—a feather-light stroke, so brief and careful you barely noticed until it was already gone, “you’re still holding my hand.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you didn’t retreat. You could have. Lucifer would have let you. Instead, you turned your hand just a little, aligning your fingers with his.

His thumb ghosted against your knuckles, so light it was more suggestion than touch. Testing. Waiting.

Your heart skipped.

Lucifer didn’t push. He didn’t coax. He simply let you choose.

So you did.

You shifted closer, just slightly, your fingers curling tentatively around his. His expression didn’t change—still soft, still patient—but you swore his grip grew just the slightest bit firmer, just enough to make sure you knew he was there.

A long, quiet moment passed.

“I’ve been thinking…” he finally said, that playful grin twitching back onto his angelic features, “Charlie is going to be very jealous when she finds out I was your first.”

You blinked. “First…?”

“Holding hands, of course.” His smirk widened. “I’m not the only one in the family who’s fond of close contact. Unless dear Charlotte has already had the honor?”

You groaned, nudging his leg with your foot. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

“What can I say?” He sighed, dramatically wistful. “I am the Sin of Pride, can’t I indulge in some while I celebrate this tender victory?”

Your lips twitched. He was incorrigible.

But… he had been patient. Gentle. Kind.

You squeezed his hand—just barely, just enough for him to know.

Lucifer stilled for half a second before his thumb traced another light, careful line along your knuckles. A silent thank you.

And, for once, the space between you didn’t feel so wide.

That night hadn’t been the end of Lucifer’s brazen acts, either.

If anything, it only emboldened him.

The brushes of his fingers became more frequent, the space between you ever-shrinking. A light touch at your elbow when he guided you through a crowded hall, the playful flick of a stray strand of hair when he teased you. Never too much, never unwelcome—but always there. Always him.

And then, one night, he caught you. Quite literally.

The explosion had been unexpected. A misplaced spell—Alastor’s, or maybe even Charlie’s—had sent a shockwave through the lobby, shaking the walls and rattling the grand chandelier overhead.

You had been moving toward the front desk when it happened, but the force of the blast sent you stumbling back.

Your arms flailed, your body crashed toward the floor. Everything was moving too fast, there was no time to break the fall.

And then—Lucifer appeared at the corner of your vision.

One second, you were falling, and the next, his arms were around you. Not just bracing you—catching you.

The world tilted, a blur of motion and heat, and suddenly, you were against his chest, the scent of him—apple cider and something dark, like aged wine—filling your senses.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

His grip was like steel, an arm locked around your waist, the other bracing your back. Your hands had instinctively grasped at his coat, clutching the fine fabric between your fingers.

And still, he didn’t let go.

“You know,” Lucifer hummed, a teasing lilt as his lips quirked upward, “for someone who claims to avoid my touch, you do seem rather comfortable in my arms.”

You scoffed, tilting your head up to glare at him—a mistake.

His pretty, i’m-so-charming-it-hurts face was close. Too close.

The smirk of Lucifer’s widened when your cheeks flushed with warmth—like he could practically feel the heat radiating between you—but there was something else beneath it, something softer in the way his crimson eyes lingered on your face.

Your breath caught.

Lucifer’s fingers curled slightly at your waist, his thumb brushing—just barely—against your ribs in a way that sent heat prickling up your spine.

It wasn’t teasing, not entirely.

There was something else there, something unspoken in the way his grip never softened.

His usual arrogance had quieted, his smirk tempered by something deeper, something almost hesitant.

Like the King of Hell was savoring the quiet, intimate moment. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.

“I could let go,” he offered, though his grip didn’t loosen.

You swallowed, pulse thundering. “Then why haven’t you?”

A slow grin. “You haven’t asked me to.”

The worst part?

You didn’t want to, especially when you looked up at Lucifer’s carefully guarded expression.

As if he was waiting for you to pull away—half-expecting it, maybe. Half-dreading it.

But you didn’t. Your fingers curled slightly in the fabric of his coat.

“You’re staring,” you murmured, the words barely more than breath.

Lucifer’s lips twitched, but the usual smirk didn’t come. Instead, his thumb brushed absently against your side—a touch so light, so fleeting, that you might have imagined it.

“Can you blame me?” he murmured, so quiet you had to crane to hear. “This is a rather…captivating angle.”

And your heart skipped three beats.

Lucifer always knew how to make things seem like a game.

It was easier that way, wasn’t it? If he made it into a joke, if he grinned just so, if he teased enough to make you roll your eyes and huff at him, then it was nothing more than harmless fun. It was just another of his indulgent amusements, just another way to pass the time.

But then there were moments like these.

Moments where he didn’t hide behind a smirk.

Moments where he was patient. Where he was watching. Where you realized, belatedly, that it had never been a game to begin with.

“…I don’t want to be bad at it,” you admitted, hating how small your voice sounded as you sat across from him.

You were painfully aware of how small the space was between the two of you, sitting on one of the lounges in the dead of night—when everyone was to be asleep, you desperately hoped.

Lucifer’s expression softened—not in pity, never in pity, but something else. Something like understanding, which was an emotion others did not grant you so easily when it came to your adversity to physical interaction.

“There’s no such thing,” he shook his head confidently, tilting it just slightly. “It’s not a skill that needs to be perfected, I assure you. It’s just something to be shared.”

You swallowed. “Easy for you to say.”

His lips quirked. “Oh? Do you think I was born knowing how to kiss?”

The thought made you huff. “You might as well have been. Weren’t you created to be the most beautiful angel in Heaven? Surely that was one of the reasons.”

Lucifer chuckled, his thumb brushing idly against the back of your hand.

“No,” he murmured, “I had to learn too.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “From who?”

His grin widened. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You groaned, smacking his arm lightly, and he laughed. But then, after a moment, he let the mirth fade, his voice softening once more.

“I learned the same way I’m offering to teach you now.” His fingers tightened slightly around yours. “With patience. With trust.”

You hesitated, heart beating a little too fast. “And if I do it wrong?”

“There is no wrong.” He lifted his free hand, cupping your jaw gently. “There’s only what you like and what you don’t. And we can stop the moment you want to, understand?”

You nodded.

He smiled. “Then come here.”

You sucked in a quiet breath, then shifted closer, tilting your face up toward his.

Lucifer didn’t rush. He let you take your time, let you hover just close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

Then, when you finally worked up the nerve to bridge that last inch without shivering at what was to come, he met you there.

The kiss was light at first, just a simple press, the barest brush of lips against lips. He let you test the feeling, let you adjust, let you decide.

And when you, ever so tentatively, kissed him again, he smiled against your mouth.

“See?” he murmured, sweet breath fanning your lips. “You’re already quite good at it.”

You weren’t sure if that was true.

But when he kissed you again—slower, deeper, his fingers cradling your face like something precious—you found that, for once, you didn’t really care.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, lost in the quiet, careful press of lips and the soft sighs exchanged between you. But then—

A noise. A clatter, followed by a small gasp.

You broke apart instantly, your heart leaping into your throat as you turned toward the kitchen doors across the lobby.

And there, standing in the dim light of the hall, barefoot in her pajamas with a bowl of something precariously balanced in her hands, was Charlie.

She blinked, her eyes going comically wide. Your lips parted, and you sputtered on air, desperately searching for something—anything—to use as an excuse.

‘Sorry, Charlie! Your dad was just checking for something in my teeth!…Rather closely…’ you thought of blurting.

Lucifer didn’t look surprised, but he definitely looked as if he had been caught red-handed with the sheepish smile growing across his face.

Sweat beaded on your brow, your eyes flicked from Lucifer to Charlie’s shocked expression, and when you finally got the courage, you—

“Yes!”

Charlie fist-pumped the air, and you gawked. What?

The princess practically vibrated in place, clutching her bowl of whatever midnight snack she’d been after. “I knew it! I knew something was going on! Oh my gosh, does this mean you’re together now? Or—wait—was that your first kiss?!”

Your soul nearly left your body (again). “Charlie—”

She gasped dramatically, bouncing on her heels. “It was! Oh, this is so much better than popcorn!”

Lucifer chuckled, clearly enjoying himself far too much with his chest swelling at the attention, while you were debating if it was possible to melt into the furniture and disappear entirely.

Charlie grinned at your flustered expression before finally stilling with a grin. “Okay, okay, I’ll go—but this is officially my new favorite thing.”

She spun on her heel, heading for the hallway, but not before shooting you both finger guns. “Carry on, lovebirds!”

And with that, she was gone, leaving behind only the sound of your mortification.

You slumped back into the couch, groaning into your hands. “I’m never going to live this down.”

Lucifer, far too pleased, slowly lifted your hand to his lips, then placed a tender kiss on your knuckle. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You sighed, the fight leaving you as you let your hand rest in his. “No… never with you.”

Lucifer smirked before he leaned in closer, and your breath hitched. “Good, because this time won't be the last.”

Hell… you hoped he was right.

hi!!! how have you all been doing? i’ve missed you guys!! this was a sweet idea to play around with, and i hope i’ve still got a feel for luci’s characterization while i’ve been away 🫶

let me know your thoughts :)

tags 🏷️

@ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @undertale-is-sansational @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @wings-of-sapphire @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home @helluvapoison @th3-st4r-gur1 @concentratedconcrete @cimadreamer @maxiskindahere @purplerose291 @fictional-character-whore @0willowwisp0 @yourlocalgoldenretrieverboy @wpdarlingpan @halo-balo @chipper-chip @lvstyangel @acrazyartist @midorichoco @ivebeenthearchersstuff @indestructeible @otherthoughtsofbu @anonymousewrites @watchinthestarz @mechanicalmari @luxmessorem @cherry-cola-100 @the-shark-named-sharon @rae-pottah @corpsebridenightamare @pweewee @nijiru

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #hellaverse #hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #fluff

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divinelyparkjimin · 4 months ago

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— sweet and spicy [m] | ksj.

◦ summary ↠ studying with your tutor should be simple, but distractions can lead to unexpected lessons. who knew cramming for exams could get this... heated? (requested by anon)

◦ pairing ↠ seokjin x reader

◦ word count ↠ 5.9k

◦ genre ↠ fluff, smut

◦ content warning(s) ↠ tutor!seokjin, student!reader, suggestive/explicit content, dirty talk, penetrative sex, ejaculation, f. and m. orgasm, oral sex, a lot of making out, unprotected sex, handjob, tit sucking

a/n: this is for the anon that requested a oneshot with seokjin and his lovely lips <3 ik you said kinda spicy but i accidentally made it very spicy lol, hope you don't mind!

masterlist

The clock on the library wall ticked in perfect sync with your growing anxiety. You had been staring at the same problem for ten minutes, the numbers on the page blurring together into a mess of indecipherable hieroglyphics.

“I’m going to fail,” you muttered under your breath, slumping further into your seat.

Your professor’s voice from last week echoed in your head: “You should really consider a tutor. It might help clear up some of the confusion.”

And now, here you were, waiting for your supposed savior to arrive and pull you from the depths of statistical despair.

The door creaked open, and you glanced up just in time to see him step inside.

“Sorry I’m late,” the newcomer said, setting his bag on the table with a soft thud. “The café line was longer than I thought.”

He was tall, dressed in a cozy gray sweater that looked as soft as a cloud, and his black-rimmed glasses perched perfectly on the bridge of his nose. But what truly caught your attention—against your better judgment—were his lips. They looked… soft. Pink. Kissable, even.

“I’m Seokjin,” he said, his voice warm and smooth. He offered a smile, and oh, that just made it worse. His lips curved in the kind of way that could make angels weep.

You snapped out of it, suddenly realizing he was waiting for you to introduce yourself. “Oh! Uh, hi. I’m—um—Y/N.”

He nodded, pulling out a notebook and pen. “Alright, so what’s giving you trouble?”

“Everything,” you admitted, gesturing dramatically at your textbook.

Seokjin laughed, the sound light and easy, but your eyes betrayed you and flicked to his mouth. The way his lips moved when he laughed—it was almost hypnotic. You mentally slapped yourself. Focus. You’re here to pass this class, not ogle your tutor.

“Okay, let’s start simple,” he said, flipping through your textbook until he found a page filled with diagrams and formulas. “Here’s a problem. Walk me through how you’d solve it.”

You nodded, trying to focus on the numbers. But Seokjin leaned closer to point something out on the page, and suddenly, your brain short-circuited. His lips were so close you could see the faintest shine of lip balm.

“So, what do you think?” he asked, looking at you expectantly.

You blinked. “Huh?”

He tilted his head. “The problem?”

“Oh, uh…” You scrambled to come up with something that didn’t sound ridiculous. “Yeah, I… totally get it now. Thanks!”

His brows furrowed, but the corners of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to laugh. “Really? Because you just wrote the wrong formula entirely.”

Your face flushed. “Oh. Right. I was just… testing you?”

Seokjin laughed again, the sound sending your heart racing. “Sure you were. Don’t worry, I’ll explain it again.”

By the third time Seokjin explained the problem, you had made some progress. But honestly? Your brain was running on fumes.

"See? It's not that bad," he said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin. "You’re getting the hang of it.”

You managed a weak smile, still hyper-aware of the way his lips moved with every word. How was it possible to explain statistics and look that good doing it? It should’ve been illegal.

"Yeah, sure," you replied, tapping your pen against your notebook to distract yourself. "I mean, I still hate it, but at least it makes… slightly more sense now."

Seokjin chuckled, his shoulders shaking just enough to make his sweater shift in the most distracting way. You were about to tell yourself to get it together when he suddenly leaned forward again, his elbow propped on the table and his chin resting on his hand.

"So," he said casually, "why did you really sign up for tutoring? You don't seem like the type to give up easily."

You froze. Was he teasing you? His tone was light, but his eyes held genuine curiosity.

"Um," you stalled, trying to come up with a reasonable answer that didn’t involve your professor practically begging you to get help. "I guess I just… wanted to make sure I didn’t fail? You know, for my GPA."

He nodded thoughtfully, and for a moment, you thought you’d gotten away with it.

"Fair enough," he said. But then his lips quirked into a smirk. "But you might want to stop zoning out so much during our sessions if you really want that GPA to survive."

Your face burned. "I don’t—" You cut yourself off, realizing how defensive you sounded. "I’m not zoning out."

"Really?" he said, tilting his head. "Because every time I look up, you’re staring at me like I just said something in Greek."

"Maybe it’s because statistics is Greek," you shot back, desperate to steer the conversation away from your very obvious distraction.

He laughed again, and this time, it was louder, filling the quiet library room. His laughter wasn’t polished or quiet; it was unfiltered, almost boyish, and far too contagious.

“Well, maybe I should start explaining in actual Greek,” he teased, closing your textbook with a soft thud. “Or we could call it a day. You’re making progress, but your brain looks like it’s about to overheat.”

You opened your mouth to protest but realized he wasn’t wrong. “Fine,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “But next time, you’re bringing snacks. Brain fuel and all that.”

Seokjin raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a smirk. “You’re really bold for someone who just admitted to hating this entire subject.”

“And yet,” you shot back, gathering your things, “you’re still tutoring me. So, who’s the real fool here?”

His laughter bubbled up again, softer this time, and you felt a small swell of pride at having made him laugh. It was quickly replaced by a flutter of nerves when he reached over to tap the corner of your notebook.

“Same time next week?” he asked, his voice a little quieter.

“Yeah,” you said, suddenly feeling warm under his gaze. “Thanks, Seokjin.”

He smiled, a soft, almost shy thing, and nodded. “Anytime.”

The following week, you found yourself looking forward to tutoring. Not because of the subject (God, no), but because of him. Every time you walked into the library and saw him waiting there, his glasses perched on his nose and a soft smile playing on his lips, it was like a little jolt of electricity.

This time, Seokjin greeted you with a coffee cup and a small bag of pastries.

“Fuel,” he said, holding them out. “For the overworked student who claims to hate stats but keeps showing up anyway.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “You actually brought snacks? You know I was just kidding.”

He shrugged, but there was a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “I thought it might help. Plus, bribery works wonders for focus.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“Only when I have pastries,” he replied, sliding one toward you.

For the next hour, you worked through problems, your frustration ebbing slightly thanks to the sugar and Seokjin’s patient explanations. Still, your focus wavered every now and then—especially when he leaned closer to check your work, his glasses slipping down his nose just enough to make your heart race.

“You’re doing better,” he said, his tone genuinely impressed. “See? I told you it wasn’t hopeless.”

“Maybe it’s your teaching,” you replied without thinking, and then froze when his ears turned pink.

“Maybe,” he said softly, his gaze flicking to yours for just a moment before he cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s try this one.”

But as the session went on, you noticed it wasn’t just you who seemed distracted. Seokjin kept fiddling with his pen, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than usual. When he leaned closer to point something out, you thought you caught him glance at your lips before quickly looking back at the page.

By the time the session ended, your heart was pounding, and you weren’t sure if it was from the stats or something else entirely.

The next morning, an email from Seokjin had come in.

Hey, just a heads-up—I’m not going to campus today, but if you still want to meet, we can do the session at my place. Let me know if that works.

It had taken you all of five seconds to reply.

That’s fine, I really need this session. Text me the address.

And now here you were, standing outside Seokjin’s apartment with your notebook clutched to your chest and a slight flutter of nerves in your stomach.

You knocked twice, and within seconds, the door swung open.

“Hey,” Seokjin said, his usual soft smile in place. He was dressed in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, and somehow he looked even better like this—comfortable and casual, with his hair slightly tousled as if he’d just run his hands through it.

“Come in,” he said, stepping aside to let you in.

His apartment was small but cozy, with warm lighting, a neatly arranged bookshelf, and a faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. There was a laptop open on the coffee table and a few notebooks stacked beside it.

“You didn’t have to bring all your stuff,” he said, eyeing the books tucked under your arm.

“I didn’t know what to expect,” you admitted, setting your things down on the table. “But I’m not taking any chances with finals week coming up in a couple weeks.”

He chuckled, gesturing toward the couch. “Well, you’re in luck. I even made coffee. Or tea, if that’s more your thing.”

You sat down, trying not to notice how close he was when he joined you. The couch wasn’t exactly huge, and the way his knee brushed against yours when he shifted sent a jolt through you.

“Okay,” he said, pulling a notebook onto his lap. “Let’s start with the practice problems I sent you last week.”

At first, it was just like any other session—him explaining concepts, you trying to keep up. But the proximity was impossible to ignore. Every time he leaned over to point at your notebook or correct something, his voice seemed lower, softer, and his presence far too distracting.

“Almost,” Seokjin murmured, his hand brushing yours as he reached for your pencil. “You just forgot to divide by the total here.”

You froze, watching the way his fingers wrapped around the pencil. They were long and elegant, and when he looked up, his face was only inches from yours.

“Oh,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, the air between you felt heavier. You could see the faint pink on his ears again, the way his lashes fluttered just slightly when he blinked.

“Here,” he said, pulling back and clearing his throat. “Try it again.”

You nodded, forcing yourself to focus on the problem. But as the session went on, the tension only grew.

At one point, you leaned over to grab your eraser from the table, and when you straightened up, your shoulder brushed against his. It was such a small thing, but the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his hoodie lingered.

“Sorry,” you muttered, though you weren’t sure why.

“No, it’s fine,” he said quickly, his voice a little tighter than usual.

By the end of the session, you were both more relaxed—or at least pretending to be. The stack of practice problems had dwindled, and Seokjin leaned back against the couch, stretching his arms over his head with a groan.

“You’re actually getting good at this,” he said, his voice teasing but genuine. “See? Told you stats wasn’t impossible.”

“Only because you’re a good tutor,” you replied, surprising yourself with how easily the words came out.

Seokjin paused mid-stretch, his eyes meeting yours. There was something unreadable in his expression, but it disappeared quickly as he smiled.

“Thanks,” he said, sitting up again.

The conversation might’ve ended there, but then you noticed a small smudge of ink beside his cushiony lips—probably from when he’d been jotting down notes earlier.

“You’ve got…” You hesitated, gesturing vaguely at your own face. “Ink. Right there.”

“Where?” he asked, frowning as he touched his cheek, missing the spot entirely.

“Here,” you said, leaning forward without thinking. Your hand brushed against his jaw as you wiped at the smudge with your thumb, and you felt him go completely still under your touch.

When you realized what you were doing, you froze too, your eyes locking with his. His gaze flicked to your lips, and for a second, you thought he might close the distance between you.

“Got it,” you said quickly, pulling back and trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice lower than before.

The rest of the session ended in a flurry of awkward goodbyes and hurried packing, but as you left his apartment, you couldn’t shake the memory of how close you’d been—or the way his lips had looked in that moment, soft and impossibly inviting.

After the first session at Seokjin’s apartment, the two of you fell into a new rhythm. Instead of meeting at the library, you started alternating between your places. It was more convenient, and though neither of you said it out loud, it felt… comfortable. Familiar. Like a natural evolution of whatever this was between you.

For your next session, Seokjin arrived a few minutes early, balancing a bag of takeout in one hand and his ever-present notebook in the other.

“You didn’t have to bring food,” you said, stepping aside to let him in.

He shrugged, setting the bag on your coffee table. “Consider it payment for making me leave the house on a Saturday.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, sitting beside him on the couch. As the session began, you noticed how different it felt having him here, in your space. The way he looked so at ease, leaning back against your cushions, his long legs stretching out in front of him.

At one point, you got up to grab your water bottle, and when you came back, Seokjin had a mischievous grin on his face.

“Do you always study with a giant stuffed bear on your couch?” he teased, holding up the plushie you’d forgotten to hide.

Your face burned. “It’s comfortable, okay?”

“I’m not judging,” he said, his grin widening. “I’m just saying, you could’ve warned me I’d have competition.”

You groaned, grabbing the bear from him and tossing it aside. But the playful banter eased the tension, making the session feel more like hanging out than studying.

By the time you’d finished the practice problems, Seokjin stretched his arms over his head and let out a dramatic sigh.

“Okay, enough stats for one day. My brain is fried,” he declared.

“Yeah same,” you sighed before raising an eyebrow. “Is this how you treat all your students?”

“Only the ones who threaten to fail without me,” he shot back, smirking.

Your next session was set to be at your apartment again, with Seokjin arriving at your apartment looking as put-together as ever. You were already flustered—having barely managed to shove your laundry into a basket to make the place look semi-presentable.

"Don’t judge," you warned as he stepped in, glancing around your living room.

“I’m not,” he replied, amused. “I’ve seen worse.”

The session went smoothly enough, but at some point, Seokjin needed a pen.

"Do you have another one?" he asked, looking up from his notebook.

"Yeah, let me grab one!" you said, heading toward your desk.

Before you could, though, Seokjin leaned over the arm of the couch to grab your backpack—and froze, pulling out an article of clothing instead.

"Uh…" His voice trailed off as he held it up—a lacy, bright-colored bra that you’d obviously forgotten to hide.

You whipped around, horrified. “Oh my God, Seokjin, put that down!”

But instead of being embarrassed, he smirked, dangling the bra by one strap.

“Well,” he said, his tone teasing but his ears betraying him with a hint of redness, “I didn’t know tutoring came with such… unexpected discoveries.”

“Stop!” you yelped, lunging forward to snatch it from him.

He laughed, holding it just out of reach. “Is this what you’ve been distracted by during our sessions? Should I start dressing fancier to compete?”

“Seokjin, I swear—”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he relented, handing it back to you with a grin. But the way his eyes lingered on your flustered expression made your heart pound.

“Next time, I’m hiring a professional tutor,” you muttered, stuffing the bra into your laundry basket.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sure you will.”

A couple days later, Seokjin had invited you over again, this time for a movie. Although, if you were being honest with yourself, the movie was probably the last thing on either of your minds.

"Okay, so you’re telling me you’ve never seen this movie?" Seokjin asked, holding up the DVD case like it was a sacred relic.

“Not everyone’s a walking encyclopedia of rom-coms,” you shot back, leaning back against the armrest of his couch.

“It’s not just a rom-com,” he argued, waving the case in front of you like it was the most important thing on the planet. “It’s a classic. You’ll thank me later.”

With a dramatic sigh, you gave in, letting him pop the DVD into the player. Soon enough, you were both nestled comfortably on his couch, a bowl of popcorn between you.

The movie started off fine enough, but as it went on, your attention started to wander. Seokjin’s proximity—the feeling of his body so close to yours, the way his arm rested casually along the back of the couch, his knee brushing against yours whenever he shifted—was far more distracting than the plot.

The soft glow of the TV illuminated his face, casting gentle shadows across his features, making him look even more attractive. His lips, soft and slightly parted as he laughed at some of the jokes, became the sole object of your focus.

"You’re quiet," he murmured during a lull in the movie, glancing at you sideways with a teasing look.

"Just… paying attention," you mumbled, not daring to look at him.

"Are you, though?" he teased, shifting slightly to face you. "Because you’ve been staring at me for the past ten minutes."

Your face immediately heated up. “I have not!”

“Hmm,” he hummed, clearly enjoying your reaction. His smirk widened as he leaned in just a little closer, his face filling your vision. “You sure about that? I wouldn’t mind.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you couldn’t help but look at his lips. His voice had dropped a few notches, and his gaze softened, no longer playful but searching—waiting for something unspoken. The noise of the movie faded as the tension in the air between you two thickened, heavy and palpable.

“Seokjin,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

“Yeah?” His voice was soft, but the way he looked at you—intent and steady—sent a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes darted to his lips for just a moment, and that was all it took. His playful smirk faded, and his expression shifted to something far more sincere, far more urgent. Slowly, his hand lifted, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face before lingering near your cheek, his touch light but warm.

Then, without a word, he closed the distance. His lips met yours in a kiss that started gentle, tentative, almost like a question. You froze for a split second, heart racing, but your body moved on instinct. Your hands gripped the front of his sweater, tugging him closer as the kiss deepened.

The movie continued in the background, but neither of you were paying attention anymore. Seokjin's hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you closer, his lips moving against yours with more urgency. You kissed him back, eager, your body instinctively pressing against his.

His thumb traced the curve of your jaw, then moved to your lips, caressing them softly before slipping back into the kiss. The sensation was intoxicating—electric. You could feel his heart racing against yours as his lips grew more demanding, his kisses coming faster, deeper.

The soft glow from the TV flickered across his features, making everything feel dreamlike, surreal, as if this moment wasn’t really happening. His hand slipped to your waist, pulling you toward him until your bodies were flush against each other. The heat of his chest, the firmness of his body, left you breathless as you melted into him.

Then, just as the kiss grew more heated, a dramatic swell of music from the movie blasted through the speakers, breaking the spell.

Seokjin pulled back slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours, eyes dark with desire. He glanced toward the screen, looking a little amused before turning back to you.

“We won’t be needing this anymore,” he murmured, his voice low as he reached for the remote, never breaking eye contact. The click of the TV turning off was the only sound in the room now, the sudden silence making everything feel more intense.

Before you could even process what had just happened, Seokjin leaned in again, his lips crashing into yours with renewed fervor. His hands found their way to your back, pulling you even closer, if that was even possible. His lips were hotter now, more demanding, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

Your hands roamed up to his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt, before you slid your hands into his hair, tugging him closer. He groaned against your lips, his fingers digging into your back as the kiss deepened further, passion igniting between you. The sensation of his lips moving against yours—of his body pressing closer to yours—made your head spin.

You could feel his hands exploring your body, his fingertips brushing the curve of your side, making your breath hitch. His mouth never left yours, the kiss turning into something desperate, almost frantic, as if neither of you could wait any longer. Seokjin’s breath was shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you both lost yourselves in the kiss.

Your bodies were tangled in the soft cushions of the couch now, the world outside fading into oblivion. Every kiss, every touch, felt like an invitation to something more.

Seokjin finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing heavily. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice husky with desire, his thumb brushing along your jaw.

You nodded, trying to catch your breath. “I’m more than okay,” you whispered, your voice shaky but full of longing.

Seokjin’s eyes searched yours, his thumb still brushing along your jaw as if grounding himself in the moment. Just as you opened your mouth to say something, a glance at the clock over his shoulder made your heart drop.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, sitting up abruptly. “I have class in fifteen minutes!”

Seokjin blinked in surprise, then let out a soft laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not!” you exclaimed, frantically gathering your scattered belongings.

He leaned back against the couch, arms draped casually along the cushions, watching you with a grin that made your heart race all over again. “You sure you don’t want to skip? I mean, we were in the middle of something really important.”

You shot him a glare, though the heat in your cheeks probably made it far less intimidating. “Nice try, Seokjin. I can’t fail this class because of you.”

“Fair,” he conceded, standing to walk you to the door. But as you reached for the doorknob, he tugged you back, planting a quick, heated kiss on your lips that left you breathless. “Hurry back when you’re done,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

From that day on, a pattern emerged. Every time you came over—whether to study, watch a movie, or just hang out—the two of you would inevitably end up tangled together, lips locked and breaths mingling. It didn’t matter if it was before or after you hit the books; somehow, the boundaries between tutoring sessions and heated makeout sessions blurred until they were almost nonexistent.

It became your guilty pleasure, a secret routine that neither of you dared to acknowledge aloud. And then, finally, the day of the exam arrived.

You walked into the lecture hall with butterflies in your stomach and left with a grin you couldn’t contain. A 91! You had passed, and not just barely—you’d crushed it. The first thing you did after checking your grade was text Seokjin, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you told him the news.

His response was instant: Come over. We’re celebrating.

You didn’t need to be told twice. Within minutes, you were at his door, and before you could even step inside, Seokjin was pulling you into his arms, his lips crashing into yours.

“Congratulations,” he murmured against your lips, his voice warm and full of pride.

But there was no time for further words. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that sent sparks shooting down your spine. You barely registered the door closing behind you as the two of you stumbled into the apartment, too caught up in each other to care.

His hands roamed over your body with an urgency that made your heart race, slipping beneath your shirt to explore the bare skin underneath. You tugged at his hoodie, eager to feel more of him, and he obliged, pulling it off in one fluid motion before his lips found yours again.

This time, there was no stopping, no holding back. The couch cushions were a familiar backdrop as Seokjin pressed you down, his body warm and solid against yours. His kisses grew deeper as his fingers dipped beneath the hem of your shirt, his eyes flicking up to yours for permission. When you gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, he didn’t hesitate.

With a swift motion, he tugged your shirt up and over your head, tossing it onto the floor. His eyes darkened as they roamed over you, lingering on the lacy bra you’d decided to wear that day.

“Well, well,” he murmured, his tone teasing as his fingers ghosted over the edge of the fabric. “You wore this? Almost like you were expecting to celebrate.” he teased, his fingers grazing the edge of your lacy bra. His smirk was back, though it softened as he leaned in, brushing his lips against your collarbone.

“Shut up,” you managed, breathless and flustered, though the way your hands gripped his shoulders betrayed your eagerness.

Your face burned, and you tried to turn away, but his hand cupped your chin, gently guiding your gaze back to him. His grin widened, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

“I wasn’t—” you started, but he cut you off with a laugh.

“Relax,” he said, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I’m not complaining. In fact…” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I think it’s perfect.”

His mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, his hands sliding up your sides as he explored every inch of you. When his lips finally returned to yours, the kiss was deeper, hungrier, his body pressing against yours as if he couldn’t get close enough.

Your hands found their way to his shirt, tugging at the fabric until he got the hint and pulled it off. You couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you even closer.

“Still think I’m the one who expected this?” you teased, emboldened by his reaction.

Seokjin paused, his lips hovering over yours as he chuckled, low and rich. “Oh, I definitely did. But I’m glad you were prepared too.”

With that, he captured your lips again, the playful banter melting away as the moment grew even more heated. The air between you was thick with desire, every touch, every kiss igniting a fire that neither of you wanted to put out.

As the kiss deepened, Seokjin's hands roamed over your body, his fingers tracing the curves of your waist, the swell of your hips. Your own hands were just as busy, exploring the contours of his chest, the broadness of his shoulders.

The room around you melted away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the heat of the moment. The darkness was almost palpable, a living thing that wrapped itself around you, holding you close. You felt like you were drowning in Seokjin's eyes, those piercing brown orbs that seemed to see right through to your very soul.

And yet, even as you felt like you were losing yourself in him, you knew that this was exactly where you wanted to be. This was what you had been waiting for, what you had been hoping for all along.

Seokjin's lips left yours for a moment, and he gazed down at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "I want to see all of you," he whispered, his voice low and husky with desire. "I want to touch every inch of your skin."

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as he spoke, but you couldn't help the way your body responded to his words. You nodded slowly, and Seokjin's eyes flashed with excitement.

With gentle fingers, he reached behind you and unfastened the clasp on your bra. The straps slid down your arms, and Seokjin's eyes widened as he took in the sight of your bare skin. He reached out a hand and cupped one breast in his palm, his thumb tracing circles around the nipple until it hardened beneath his touch.

As Seokjin's hands continued to caress your breasts, his mouth descended upon them, his plump lips wrapping around one nipple with a gentle reverence. The softness and fullness of his lips were almost distracting, making you wonder how something so visually appealing could also feel so incredible. He kissed the nipple softly, his lips molding around it as he sucked gently.

He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his lips tracing circles around the nipple before wrapping around it again. The sensation was exquisite, and you felt yourself arching your back, pushing into his touch as he continued to kiss and suckle your breasts.

After lavishing attention on your breasts, Seokjin's mouth began to kiss down your stomach, his lips tracing a path of fire along your skin. With each kiss, you felt anticipation build within you. He teased you with each touch of his lips, getting closer and closer to the heat between your legs but never quite reaching it. The suspense was deliciously agonizing.

Finally, Seokjin returned to your lips, kissing them with a fervor that left you breathless. His tongue danced against yours as he deepened the kiss. He didn't stop there; his mouth wandered to your neck, leaving behind a trail of hickeys as he sucked and nibbled on the sensitive skin.

"Your lips are so fucking perfect," you whispered into his ear, running your fingers over their full shape in awe. "They feel as good as they look."

Seokjin chuckled low in his throat but didn't stop kissing and sucking on your neck. After a few moments of this sensual assault on your senses, he pulled back slightly and whispered against your earlobe.

"Enough of my lips; time to see what yours can do."

With that tantalizing promise hanging in the air between you like an unfinished challenge waiting for resolution - Seokjin stood up from where they had been sitting together on couch pulling both pants & boxers all way down letting them pool at feet before taking seat once more now fully exposed

You got onto your knees between his legs spread wide and proceeded to give him a blow job. You began by licking his quivering length, taking its head into your mouth. You started sucking gently, gradually increasing suction pressure and movement speed.

Your hand rose to begin stroking his shaft up and down while continuing to suck on it, your fingers wrapped tightly around base, moving in the opposite direction of your head bobbing. You made sure to pay special attention to the ridge just beneath where the head of his cock meets the shaft, knowing the extra sensitivity there.

As you continued to stroke and suck, Seokjin's eyes remained locked on yours, besides when he'd occasionally draw his head back in rawr pleasure. His hands rested on your head, gently guiding the pace but letting you set the rhythm. The sensation of his fingers in your hair, combined with the taste and feel of him in your mouth, was incredibly erotic.

You could feel his excitement building, his breathing getting heavier, and his muscles tensing under your touch. Encouraged by his reactions, you deepened the suction slightly, moving your head in a steady bobbing motion while your hand continued to stroke the base of his shaft.

Seokjin's moans filled the air, soft at first but growing louder as he neared climax. His hands tightened in your hair, not pulling but applying gentle pressure as if urging you on without wanting to disrupt the perfect rhythm you'd established.

Just as it seemed like he was about to come, Seokjin suddenly pulled back, his chest heaving with exertion. "Not yet," he whispered hoarsely, "I want to come inside you."

He gently helped you up from your knees and led you back to the couch. This time, as he sat down, he pulled you onto his lap so that you were straddling him. The position was intimate and vulnerable at the same time.

With deft hands, Seokjin guided himself into you, filling a void that had been aching for fulfillment since this encounter began. As he entered deeper into you, your warmth enveloped around him fully. Everything else faded away, leaving only the sensations between two people completely lost within another.

The movement started slow but was soon quickened, as he grew more desperate. The two of you lost track of the time or your surroundings, solely existing in the moment of moving bodies seeking release.

As the movements became more rhythmic and intense, the connection between you and Seokjin deepened. Every thrust, every sensation, seemed to be amplified.

Your hands were on his shoulders, his around your waist, holding you close as you moved together. Seokjin's eyes locked onto yours, filled with raw desire. Yet, there was also a tenderness there, a care that made this feel like more than just a physical act. It was as if he was seeing into your very soul, and you into his.

The pace quickened, the intensity building until it felt like everything was going to shatter apart at any moment. But instead of fear or anxiety, there was only anticipation - a desperate longing for that release.

And then, in an instant that seemed to stretch out forever, it happened. Seokjin's body tensed beneath yours, his muscles hardening as he came inside you. The sensation triggered your own climax, waves of pleasure crashing over you like a stormy sea.

For what felt like an eternity, you just sat there, wrapped in each other's arms as the aftershocks of pleasure continued to ripple through your bodies. It wasn't until your breathing began to slow that reality started seeping back in - the feel of the couch beneath you, the sound of your heartbeats slowly synchronizing back into separate rhythms.

Seokjin's arms loosened their hold on you slightly but didn't let go. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed your forehead softly before whispering against your skin.

"Looks like all our hard work paid off. Congrats on passing, beautiful."

a/n: wahoo! feel free to leave feedback, hope you all enjoyed!

masterlist

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venmondiese · 7 months ago

Text

COME TO ME, ANGEL OF MUSIC

‎‎masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

-ˋˏ| summary: On a costume party, you meet Aemond, a strange man who seems to lurke your thoughts. Soon enough, you'll find he is more than what he seems.

✧| Pairing: modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

✧| word count: 4.2k

✧| Warnings: MDNI 18+, possible dub-con, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), Aemond is very weird, and this contains dark contents.

-ˋˏslightly based on the phantom of the opera + my contribution to halloween

You wish you knew how you ended up in a rich party, honestly. It was a costume party, and everyone had rich costumes. You went for a classic one; Christine from Phantom of the Opera. Your friend was dating the younger son of this family, throwing a party in the whole damn state they had, as if it was some kind of Saltburn. You didn’t comply when she dragged you to ‘meet one of his rich friends so you and him can be together’ because honestly you had nothing better to do.

Seeing people do heroin and ecstasy was not your style, so you separated from your friend soon enough, as she told you her boyfriend and her would spend quite some time on that. She had promised to invite one of your childhood friends (and crush); Ben. Even if it had been ages, you still thought about the chance to meet him.

Dancing on the dance floor was something else. They didn’t play some of the usual party songs played on discos or bars. It was somehow more refined, but it didn't stop you from dancing. You danced with some dudes; with a mummy, with Beetle juice, with Pennywise and even with the typical one dressed as the Joker. You made out with them a bit, but soon enough you pulled away.

Once you were sweating through your costume, you went to the backyard, seeing all the stairs you had to get down to touch the grass. Instead, you walked to the chairs in the balcony and stayed there.

“I lost my… fucking piercing…” you murmur, feeling your face and not feeling your nose ring. Did you even…?

“Hello, didn’t expect you here”

You turn to see the voice by your side. It was dark, or perhaps you weren’t using your glasses, but you could swear there wasn’t a man there.

“Hey” you murmur softly.

“Who are you supposed to be?” He asks softly, smoking his cigarette as he was against the wall.

You weren’t one for small talk, truly. But here you were.

“Christine Daaé” you tell him softly looking at him.

“Hm.”

“From the phantom of the opera”

“I know, it is rather obvious coming from you” he says softly, another puff as he speaks.

You frown slightly, confused by his words. What was he on? Maybe your face is familiar with someone he knows. You are sure you know him. He is oddly familiar as well, and you definitely couldn't shake the feeling of knowing him. He was like a distant, misty memory, as if from a dream.

“And who are you?”

“Nosferatu”

You take a moment to watch his costume, seeing the formal clothes he used. He had long silver hair, and it looked silky and it was very eye-catching. As you saw more and more of him, as the dim lights from the garden gave him a sombre aura. His skin was pale, not rosy-like pale, but straight out white, cold tones. He had a purple eye, and he wore an eye patch to the other.

“I Thought Nosferatu was bald”

“I thought Christine Daaé could sing.”

“You surely wear tons of makeup”

“You should see my brother” he says, looking at you “He came as Edward Cullen, Tons of glitter”

You chuckle “I can see it”

He was handsome, leaning on the wall as he inspected you. Gave you goose bumps, that, and the cold air too.

“What’s your brother’s name?” You ask softly, looking at him as the skirt of your costume had been caught on some leaves.

“Aegon” he says, as if testing your knowledge on the name.

“And yours?” You ask, smoothly. You wanted to know his, in truth, and he smirked as he puffed on his cigarette.

“Aemond” he says softly, looking at you. “Yours?”

You tell him your name, and he hums watching over you. There is something about the way he looks at you, making your skin have goose bumps and you turn slightly more conscious about yourself. He was intimidating, yet at the same time, you were attracted to him as moths are to light.

“You fit the costume” he says, puffing on his cigarette again.

“It is my favourite costume. I found a white corset, and a white puffy dress. I did the star pattern on it, and it took me a while to style my hair.”

“Hm. I see.” his voice is sultry, watching you closely.

“I have seen the Phantom of the Opera since I was a child. I love it” you admit with a smile “Seen it like a hundred times. I doubt there is someone who has seen it more than I”

He raises an eyebrow at your nerdiness, yet he shrugs, throwing his cigarette on the floor to stomp on it. His shoes had dragon patterns on them, and looked as if they had never been worn.

“I doubt it” he says smugly, moving to sit in another chair next. One of his legs lazily going above the other as he leaned back. “I have seen it for years and years”

You roll your eyes amused, as if he was trying to fight who was nerdier. “Yeah, right”

“I mean it. They always play it in the theatre” he says, looking at your face as if trying to see your reaction. He isn’t very expressive, you notice, as his face almost doesn’t move as he speaks.

“And so you happen to visit the theatre always?”

“Well, in fact I do.” He shrugs, moving to take another cigarette out of his pocket, to lighten it up. You roll your eyes as if you don’t believe him. “I own the place.”

It is a moment of silence, as you watch him brag about it. Men and their audacity. He was extremely rude, apart from off-putting. And he was arrogant, you knew an arrogant man when you saw one, how his chin is titled up, as if looking down at you.

“Yeah, right”

“I mean it” He says, surely.

“Are you rich?” You say in disbelief, not believing one word of what he was saying.

“I live some states away” He says, referring to the mansions. “It’s older than the damn country”

“I do not believe you one bit”

“Don’t” he shrugs nonchalantly, his face barely changing as he takes another puff. “You could have had free entry to see the phantom of the opera every night”

You narrowed your eyes to his words, you do not believe him. How rich can you be to own one of these houses AND own a theatre? Makes 0 sense in your middle class mind. Yet, Aemond, for some reason, is different. You cannot explain it… and it bugs you. Yet you are curious as a cat.

“Okay, Mr. Billionaire” You say mockingly, leaning closer as you watch his face. “If you do own that, you must be an aristocrat” you point out, seeing how his eyebrows raise and he nods slightly.

“Yeah”

“So your family has been around for centuries?”

He nods, and he says “Yeah, more than centuries”

“Every dynasty falls, you know. Sooner or Later”

“Or they evolve” He says, taking another puff. He has a calm way to speak, almost sultry. He speaks as if he had all the right opinions on the world, and doesn’t leave room to question him.

Aemond was handsome, perhaps too handsome. Though the white makeup was too much (and you can imagine how full of glitter his brother should be), he has a mystery surrounding him. He was a billionaire, yet he doesn’t tell you his family name, which doesn’t surprise you, since rich people are full of fake friends. You doubted that half of the people in this mansion even knew the hosts personally. And Aemond seems the calm type, stoic, silent and observant. You can notice it just by the way he stares at you, no expression on his face, not even boredom.

“And you are friends with …” You ask, moving a hand to point at the castle.

“My brother is more social than I am” his tone is quiet.

“And he dragged you here?”

“I dragged myself here” he says. Even if he is very expressionless, you were getting tired of him.

You didn’t even notice how awkward the whole conversation was. He was so clearly uninterested in you, only bragged about his luxuries and spoke in a condescending tone. You were confused, no doubts. The alcohol had been too much.

“I will go to the dance floor then…, Aemond” you say standing up, and he doesn’t do the courtesy to look interested.

As you leave, you just try to sneak away from his little corner, and you try to find your friend. The meeting with Aemond left you a sour taste in your mouth, no doubts. Lisa was certainly more of a social butterfly, and if she was next to her boyfriend she would probably be like his trophy, anyways.

You walked through the corridors, and tried to check your phone. It was almost one in the morning, 00:58. You sighed, checking your messages as you tried to stay against the wall; the music was loud enough to drive you insane.

Where are u??? Ben is here…

You cursed yourself, muttering a great deal of insults as you answered, asking where the hell she was with Ben. You came with a purpose, and you certainly couldn’t leave without it.

Ben was handsome, and his blonde hair fell from his face as he was dressed as some superhero you didn’t recognise. Yet he was lean, and handsome as hell. He has some beard, not too rusty, but you liked it, suited him well. It reminded you of his dad, no doubts.

“Ben” you say smiling

“Oh, look at you” he says, standing up to hug you. “It has been ages!”

“Too long” You say smiling, hugging him back. “How have you been? I mean… What have you been up to?” It was almost impossible not to want to ask Ben about all the amazing things he must have been up to.

Between chatting, drinking and dancing, it’s nearly three am when you are still dancing on him in the dance floor. It was less crowded than before, yet it still was hot as hell. You were sweating slightly, and still with Ben, dancing together and having so much fun.

“Hey, Christine”

You turn a bit confused. Oh, it was this guy. The Nosferatu guy, Aemond.

“Hey” You say to him, cringing a bit. His expressionless face looked from you to Ben, who stopped to dance to introduce himself. “Ben, this is Aemond… Aemond, Ben”

Whereas Ben extended his hand with a smile, Aemond watched him with a hum, acknowledging him with a raise of eyebrows. You wanted to die, he was so fucking rude and hard to swallow, and you didn’t even know why he was bothering you.

“You are friends?”

You try to answer, yet you find yourself mumbling nonsense as your cheeks get red slightly from shame. It is Aemond who answers.

“Yeah. Long acquaintances” he says, and his face finally changes. His lips curled in a smirk, his arms crossed on his chest as he was very much interested in Ben now. “Isn’t it right?”

You look at him, and then at Ben, blinking a bit confused. “Yeah, we know each other… and we are so close”

“Oh, I see. Didn’t mention that” He says, his smile confused as he looks at you.

“Well, I didn’t remember” you say, a bit confused, frowning.

Where did you exactly meet Aemond?

“Ouch” Aemond says, looking at you. His voice still cold, and detached “Didn’t you tell him all the times we have gone to see the Phantom of the Opera?”

It takes you a bit to speak. “Yeah, tons of times… Aemond owns a theatre, and they play it all the time.”

Ben looks at you a bit confused. His hand is on the small of your back, and still close to you.

“Maybe you could come with us” you babble, words out of your mouth hastily. “I’d like you to” you add, words you like to say finally coming out of your mouth.

“Sure thing” Ben says smiling, giving you a reassuring nod.

“We could arrange it for the next season. Now it is all about more new musicals” Aemond says shrugging “Even if the Phantom of the Opera is quite new, still”

“It’s old as fuck, dude” Ben laughs it out, but his laugh is met with no response.

You looked at him, eyes wide. You found it funny, why didn’t you laugh?

“Either way…” Aemond says, his tone unwavering as always. “We have to leave, darling”

It is then when you look at Aemond again. You were attracted to him like a moth is to light, and he was like a drug. He was handsome, tall and definitely hot. He made you feel alive.

Yet you didn’t want to leave Ben. Why would you? Lisa had especially invited him for this purpose, to get you two together, to reconnect and with some luck, hook up. Even if you weren’t the type to hook up with guys you have met the same day, unlike Lisa. She joked that maybe Ben was worth the exception.

“Wait, I thought we were staying…?” Ben says, confused, since Lisa’s boyfriend had no problem in lending one of the guest rooms to you two.

“No” you say, almost automatically.

“Come on” Aemond says, pulling you away from Ben, grabbing your elbow with a self-sufficient smirk.

His touch was cold, unwelcoming and uncaring. Even with that, you followed his lead out of the mansion, not caring to wave goodbye to Ben.

It is when he opens his old car, probably expensive as hell, when you ask him. “Where are we going?”

He smiles “Oh, my darling. We are going to my state”

Your mind has problems remembering how you two exactly arrived at his state. You have had too much alcohol, either way.

And as you went away from the party, you started to ask yourself more things. Why did you ignore Ben? You were an ass to him, and you didn’t care about it. But in truth, you did, and you felt awful about it.

It made zero sense; you couldn’t understand your change of heart. As if sorcery was inflicted upon you, or mind control. When you take out your phone, to send him a message, to apologise, and to also tell Lisa where you are, you find yourself with no signal at all. You barely had any battery on it too.

“Do not bother” Aemond’s cold tone comes as he drives. The car was so old, the gearshift was like a lever next to the steering wheel. Damn, this shit didn’t even have a radio. “There is no signal around here”

“No technology either…” you murmur between your teeth, and try to look out in the darkness of the night. It was all mist, from miles and miles in the field.

“Do not worry yourself” He says, and with that, you shut up.

Your walk is almost automatic, following his lead into his house. It was a mansion, more like a Victorian one. Maybe even older, this truly seems like centuries old. You couldn’t imagine how old his dynasty was to inherit something like this.

Aemond could be as sultry as he was cold, because soon enough you were on his bed, sitting as he talked softly, about your appearance or how perfect you were. You truly didn’t take a look around his home, or his room. Surely, there were a lot of stairs, and a lot of floors. But you only cared for Aemond.

“Dressing up like Christine, hm? Suits you” He murmurs, his hands cupping your face as if you were dear to him, yet there was no tenderness in his tone, only that detachment you despised.

“Hm” it was all you could say.

“So perfect for me. I knew I was right on you”

His lips devour yours as he kisses you, and you can do anything but return his kisses, perhaps not with the same fervour, but still you are a bit enthusiastic with that.

If he was cold, he made it up by being addicted. Kissing him was addictive, and the taste of it was making you lean closer and closer to him. And it was as if he thought the same about you, by the way he was acting the same, if not more desperate.

You feel his kisses travel down, as his hands lower down to move the skirt of your dress, feeling your bare legs and going upwards. His face nuzzles your neck, and you can feel how he leaves hickeys, bites and wet kisses on the skin.

He was insane with lust, like an animal as he pressed kisses on your collarbone, pulling you back in his bed. Kissing Aemond was like being in heaven; you could barely feel your own body.

“You are perfect” He murmurs “No need to be nervous” his tone is sultry, almost too enchanting for you.

You weren’t even nervous, to be honest. Your heart was racing like crazy, and your hands were sweating. Still, you didn’t feel nervous.

“I’m not” you murmur softly.

“You are” he says, his eyes turning to look at you. “I know it. You can’t hide anything from me”

As his hands move to take off your clothes, and his mouth relishes on your breasts, clavicle and neck, you start to wonder. Was he stalking you? You remember him too dizzily to connect dots, but he was starting to…

Scare you. Arouse you. You weren’t even sure.

Aemond was especially good with his mouth; his kisses pressed lower and lower as his hands caressed your thighs softly, looking up at you.

“I’ll make you feel better” he promises, his tone sounds ever sweeter. “I know what to do to cure you”

If the remark was oddly strange, he doesn’t give you a moment to think about it, as his mouth goes to your cunt, his tongue moving expertly along your folds to taste you, like a man starved does. He was, in a way, starved. You could see it in his gaze, looking up to you to see your reactions and if trying to see right across your soul.

He accommodates your thighs on his shoulders, as if hugging your back to press you further to his face, and mouth. He was groaning on it, delighting himself in your taste, as you could only whimper and see with half lidded eyes, biting your lower lip as you feel your head starting to drop back in delight.

His mansion was cold, and Aemond was even colder, yet everywhere he touched, felt warm. It was magnificently paradoxical, yet it made every sense in your head. If you could form a logical thought, that would be, because when Aemond touched you it was as if your brain melted completely, being nothing as he touched your body.

“Will you let me?” He asks, his mouth and chin shiny from your arousal, gods, you were leaking wet. You haven’t noticed until now, you were really wet. And he only seems to be happy about it.

He glances up at your face, watching you closely with his careful eye. You were right on his mercy, and he liked it. He could tell that you were loving it, the way he gives you attention and takes care of you, and yet he isn’t pleased when you nod as a way to answer him “I want you to say it out loud”

“Yes” you say, your breath almost stuck in your throat as you speak, nodding. Your cheeks were red, and you could feel your blood going everywhere in your body, especially where he had touched you, and kissed you.

“You are all mine, hm?” He says, seeing the hickeys on your neck and legs.

His cock was hard, and he was as excited as you were to have you. You didn’t quite get what he was after, sex? Taking care of you? An odd, distorted and sick pleasure of… doing what he does? You couldn’t get it.

He doesn’t use protection, and you also don’t try to ask about it. You just don’t care about it, you want him. You need him. You craved him.

Aemond hiss when he enters you. Your pussy is warm, wet and welcoming to his cock. Seeing you in display to him, moaning as his cock starts filling you is too much for him. It’s too overwhelming, and he has to curse out loud, moving to grab your thighs to pull you closer, your body moving as if you were a ragdoll.

“Fuck, princess. That’s it” he mutters, his hips going back, before harshly going forward, starting to pound into you as if he was a feral animal, grunting and groaning,

Your body welcomes his harshness, feeling his cock pound again and again against all your sensitive spots. He knows what he was doing, surely, and he knew how to please his partner in bed. His dick slides effortlessly into her cunt, you could feel his balls slapping against your skin.

“Aemond” you moan is more like a whine, the same tone wounded animals used emit when in pain. Oddly enough, that turns him on more.

“That’s it” He murmurs, his hips being harsh as he thrusted, and you could only imagine how much it would hurt to stand up next morning. "Sing for me...."

Aemond reaches with his hand to find your clit. Most men would be blind, but Aemond had experience. His wet fingers rub your clit, as he made sure his thrusts were overwhelming enough to have you made a mess for him. Moaning loudly, he feels your legs shaking a bit as he leans to whisper in your ear.

“Come for me” His tone is many things, a plea, an order, a fact. "Come to me"

You didn’t know how, but he knew. You were coming hard, as you felt his cock deep inside and his wet kisses all over. It was intense, and he had you all disoriented. Maybe you squirted, maybe he came right with you, and maybe he came inside you. But the truth? You didn’t care.

You fell asleep soon after, almost unconscious from such a night. Alcohol, crazy sex, and going to a stranger’s home.

It all hits you by the morning.

If you could call that a morning, honestly. You wake up, in the silk bed sheets, feeling colder than ever, and naked. You turned around, and everything was dark, as if it was night. The tall, heavy curtains in the windows were old enough to be thick, and not let a single ray of sunshine inside. Yet, it was badly closed, because one ray hit right in your neck, and in your left eye, waking you up.

You don’t know how long you have slept, as you stand up. You feel panicked, because you went home with a stranger. And then you start remembering. Leaving without telling Lisa, leaving Ben just because Aemond said so, and you were stupid enough to follow him.

And you had sex with him. You can feel your body aching from how feral he was with you, and you sit up in bed, whining, as your whole body is sore and burning you.

You check your thighs, red and lots of bruises there. And your stomach, and your forearms. You stand up carefully, moving closer to the window you had seen in the hallway, not minding your nakedness, or who might see you wander around.

You are more worried by the blood coming out your neck. You see yourself in the mirror; your neck has dry blood, bruises and hickeys. Your face? Intact. But your neck and collarbone were… destroyed. Your breasts are saved, just a little bit, bitten and full of hickeys, but no blood there.

You try to move the dry blood, trying to see what you were injured. You didn’t hear a sound in the house; it was dark, and quiet. The most light that entered was from a skylight in the stairs, which seemed to be endless.

You see two dots, deep and scarlet in your neck. And another pair, and another. You had to check more than twice to try to make it sense. Aemond had bitten you. It was all Aemond.

“I see you have woken up” He murmurs, leaning on the hallway, with a cup of tea, and some cookies.

You turn to look at him, and you regret not having something to cover yourself with.

“You are a monster” You say, turning back to the room, to try and go find your clothes and your phone. “Biting me like a… a… a vampire” you say, just to test the waters. Hells, you didn’t even believe he was a vampire.

Aemond chuckles, following right behind you as he leaves the tray in the cabinet. He looks at you, covering the door unconsciously, as he crosses his arms. “So you figured it out then” he says. “I thought it would take you less”

“You… drugged me”

“No” He says, crossing his arms, offended. “I did not need to.”

He was attractive, but it wasn’t him. It wasn’t his charm, and how handsome he was. Of course, you think, being an idiot. You had seen twilight a million times, and you felt like Bella when she discovered the same about Edward.

“Vampires aren’t real” You remind him, putting on your clothes. They were dirty, yet you just wanted to get out of there. Gods, you were an idiot. An idiot. And you didn’t even know what you would tell Lisa, or Ben, or your parents…

“Aren’t they, really?” He asks, almost mockingly. “And where are you going, darling?” He asks amused, seeing you grab your purse and pull your clothes fast as day. It took you a bit to close the corset of the dress, but whatever.

“Away” you mutter, which causes him to laugh.

The only, genuine and loud laugh you have heard him do. Maybe the most genuine he has ever been in the time you have meet him.

“You are adorable, my sweet” he says, his tone as detached even with his amusement. “I thought it was clear. You are not going anywhere”

You look at him, as if confused. He wasn’t a vampire, it was ridiculous. It felt like a crappy movie that they passed through forgotten channels.

“Yeah, right” you say, passing through him and going into the hallway. “I am leaving” you tell him, trying to look brave, as you try to decipher the fucking mansion.

“You are scared as a kitten” Aemond says, more amused than anything “Your heart is beating like crazy, darling”

“Whatever!” You scream, finding some stairs and going down.

“And how will you ever leave? The closest town is far away for leaving on foot.”

“I’ll call a tab” you say, stubbornly, taking out your phone.

Seriously? 11%? You sighed. Aemond didn’t stop you, but let you figure it on your own. There was no signal here.

If you go, with how cold it was, you were going to die of hypothermia. And going out without a map, without a direction, you will be also dead, if not found by him. You really, really were trapped. You had to think of something else, surely, but not now…

“I see your pretty head has figured it out” Aemond says, from top of the stairs. “Now, will you take the cookies and tea I had you? I bought them just for you” he says, almost annoyed. “I can’t let my pet starve”

That was what he wanted you for. If he was a vampire, he needed blood. And he had his fill, and he had his next meal. It was you; he wanted you as food, and to fuck.

"I want my pretty angel to keep on singing for me" his tone is deep, smiling, as he teases you with those words. "My angel of music"

You want him to shut up, but at the same time, you don't.

You remember, for a moment, when he bites you with his fangs. You had thought it was with the costume, but he didn’t dress up. He surely invented he was Nosferatu, and you believed it like a fool. Those fangs weren’t fake, and they dig into your neck to draw blood from you, multiple times.

It was painful, and it stung like a bitch. You didn’t want him to feed on you.

"You have come here with one purpose and one alone" he says, as he lure you into his whims "I have needed you with me... to serve me. "

Yet when you see him smile, guiding you to eat, you feel calm, even if your mind knew he was using his dirty tricks on you, just like before. He seduced you, into his will. And gods, if you didn’t feel like you wanted just that: be his forever. To feed, to fuck, to devour.

It was surely going to drive you insane one day, yet you had to get used to it. It didn’t seem as if you were going to be out anytime soon.

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chsopnk · 9 months ago

Text

「 ✦ DADDY’S HOME ✦ 」

☆. # SHIP — gojo satoru, nanami kento, toji fushiguro x gn!reader

☆. # AUTHOR’S NOTE — the guys as the father of ur kids.

☆. # WARNINGS — mentions of puke

GOJO .

i could see him as a boy or girl dad. or both

tries to give his daughter cute hairstyles and fails miserably. crooked pigtails where half of her hair is still hanging down is the best he can do. but hey, he tries

definitely hangs his kids upside down by their feet. probably shakes them too.

the kids are definitely small gojo’s. sorry not sorry

every single day is chaos.

when he goes out with the two on his own, he loses one of them about 80% of the time (he always finds them again, don’t worry 😭)

let’s them have snacks before dinner and tells them not to tell you. they always do.

despite all of that, he’s a fun father

gojo has a lot of energy so he runs around with them all day and plays with them <33

(then he complains about how tired he is when they’re in bed :/)

lots of fun trips. to the playground, amusement parks, places in japan, different countries. the beach.

if his kids have hobbies, he’s always ALWAYS!! the loudest and most embarrassing parent there. he says it builds character and he needs to support his babies ‼️‼️

NANAMI .

girl dad. twin girls.

he definitely does their hair!! and he’s good at it too <3 nanami has done their hair since they had hair.

he spoils them TO DEATH.

the girls only want to eat the food he cooks 😒 they say it tastes better

he dances with them in the living room when no one’s home. ugh he’s so CUTE 🥴🥴

nanami’s a very very loving father but he’s also strict when it comes to certain things

example a: the girls will never not do their homework. he makes sure of it 💯

just imagine nanami sitting at a table with his two little girls while explaining math to them 🥹 he’s so so gentle and understanding but he will not let them give up

imo he really loves it when they wear cute dresses and look all pretty. he’s a girlie girl dad.

he will play with them no matter what they want to do. play dress-up? he will wear the tutu. want to play house? of course he’ll be the baby. the girls wanna do his hair + make-up? he’ll be the test subject no problem ‼️

he’s also never ever going to miss any special day his girls have. their first day of school, bring your father to school day, their dance shows — whatever their hobbies are, he’ll be there to support them <33333

also: a REAL father. never had a problem with changing diapers or cleaning up baby puke.

TOJI .

not the best father, but he’s damn sure trying

the child was definitely unexpected and not exactly wanted but once he came to terms with it, he tries his best to be there as best as he can

he doesn’t have the money needed to take care of a child, neither do you (not really)

but whatever his kid wants, his kid gets.

mostly, that includes fast food and cheap toys from the dollar store

but hey!! the kid doesn’t care where the toys are from (/gen)

definitely the type of dad to get one of those leashes for kids. he’s not risking losing his kid somewhere 💀 and he knows damn well what kind of menace that child is

he can and will bribe his son with candy to get him to stop crying or throwing a tantrum

toji cannot deal with his kid screaming or crying. honestly mostly leaves you to deal with those situations because he’s unsure how to handle them

will change diapers but not without complaining and almost throwing up 💀 it’s not his fault !!! it stinks okay?!!

acts like he doesn’t care about the kid but then shows up after a mission with a bag of candy. or pulls out some toy the kid’s wanted

cannot, will not & should not help with homework.

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kilojulietsierra · 1 month ago

Note

Okay Sam loves everyone in the Pitt dearly - they are her family.

But the OR girlies Garcia and Walsh - they are her girls night, get into some fun mischief, don’t talk about work just have fun friends.

Sam is just basically loved by everyone

💯 yes! I love this and because this was such a fun idea I have some thoughts!

~~~~~

- Jack finds the 3 of them in his kitchen before he leaves for a shift “You know, I have nightmares that start this exact same way”

- Yolanda is sitting on the counter drinking his whiskey

- They are dressed up! Like dressed up dressed up because they wear scrubs pretty much every day of their lives

- Jack’s a little put out because his wife looks TOO GOOD and she’s going out without him, but he notices she’s got her ring on (Not the silicone one, not the first one he could barely afford, the good one he bought her after he finished residency) and he always loves to see her wear it.

- Sam makes sure he knows where they’ll be and promises to text him if they go somewhere else

- Jack “Have fun, be careful. Remember I don’t get off until seven so it’ll be a long wait for bail money.” Emery “you need to let that go it was years ago. Plus, they didn’t even actually book us.”

- Yolanda “don’t worry dad, we’ll be on our best behavior”

- Jack grumbles to Sam “I love your friends.” She just smiles, ignores his sarcasm and runs her hands up his chest “just remember, it’s your fault I met them.”

- Sam tastes like his whiskey when he kisses her good bye and that tells him exactly how the nights going to go

- Yolanda hurts the waiters feelings at the restaurant by correcting his pronunciation of chile rellano

- Someone buys them a round of shots at the bar and when he bings them over Sam pulls out test strips and shrugs “you never know” Emery “thanks go away now” Yolanda *shoo hand gesture*

- A group of guys ask if they’d like to play pool. 10 minutes later Emery and Yolanda are describing step by step and in detail how to amputate a finger (just because one of the poor guys asked Emery what she did at work today) while Sam runs the table and takes all their money

- They find a cigar lounge where Yolanda smokes a cigar and flirts with bartender (which pisses off every 40+ white guy in the building) while a “totally was in the special forces guy ” tries to impress Sam and Emery who pick his story apart piece by piece, obviously he picked the wrong women to try that game on.

- Dancing. All the dancing.

- Yolanda flirts with anyone and everyone

- Emery is still in her post divorce man eater phase which is entertaining for all

- Sam looks like the most approachable by far but honestly it’s just a trap

- Sam will also hustle darts and then make sketchy jokes about being good with needles

- They give a girl in the bathroom a drunk pep talk about not giving up on med school. She’s doing great and shouldn’t feel guilty about taking a break to have fun!

- It’s about midnight when Jack starts getting inappropriate text messages from his wife.

- He checks Sam’s location quickly just before 2am, before the ER gets slammed with the rush after the bars close, and sees they’re at a Waffle House. Bad sign. He also wonders how much that Uber cost.

- He gets the notification from their security system around 3am followed by a text from Sam that says she made it home

- He doesn’t get to check his phone again until damn near 6 in the morning. And that’s probably a good thing because shortly after she got home Sam had sent a “wish you weren’t at work” text with a video attachment that he won’t open until he’s in his truck ready to leave

- When he does finally get home she’s passed out and there’s a nearly empty saline bag hanging on her corner of the headboard. Jack smiles to himself as he goes to unhook her from it and he can’t help but find it kind of sexy that even absolutely shitcanned she can hit a vein on the first try and run an IV on herself.

- She left her phone on his side of the bed and he opens their group chat to double check Walsh and Garcia made it home before he plugs it in to charge.

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt fanfic #the pitt imagine #the pitt headcanons #dr jack abbot #dr Yolanda Garcia #dr emery walsh #dr garcia #dr jack abbott #dr Jack abbot x ofc #jack abbot x ofc

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darlingdaisyfarm · 6 months ago

Note

hi!! just wanna say you are my fav gravity falls author and im so obsessed with your fics for stan 🙏🙏 could i please have a stan x fem!reader smut where stan just REALLY likes tits. like a LOT. you have full creative freedom to go wherever you want with this idea i just wholeheartedly believe stan is a tit man <3 thank u and plz never delete this account youre the coolest 💞

Stan Pines is obsessed with you and your breasts ♡ (headcanons + blurb)

author note: hii, angel!! thank you sm for this sweet message, i'm literally melting and giggling and smiling rn!!! i can't even tell you how much this made my day, you're so kind and your words honestly mean the world to me 🤍

i had so much fun with this idea, so here’s something for you bc ur wish is my command! i hope it’s what u expected. and thank you for supporting me! ♡

I need this grumpy old man so bad, guys send me more asks bout him also comments and/or reblogs are always appreciated, kisses u💋

nsfw, fem reader

♡ Stan is absolutely shamelessly obsessed with tits. your tits, specifically. big, small, somewhere in between, it doesn’t matter! he’s a hungry fucking man. he fucking loves breasts. worships them. adores them. can’t keep his damn eyes (or hands, or mouth) off them. “you’re gonna kill me with these things, doll, fuckin’ hell, look at ‘em.”

♡ the first time you caught him staring, you were a little shy about it, but he didn’t even try to deny it. “what? they’re right there! whaddya want me to do, not look? it’s like puttin’ a steak in front of a starving man and tellin’ him not to eat!” and you made the mistake of saying, “you could touch them if you wanted to.”

♡ because now his hands are always on you. always. you’re trying to cook? his big hands are sliding up your shirt, squeezing, kneading, thumbs brushing over your nipples, he’s testing just how fast he can make that little gasp slip from your lips. and god, all of that is being done with that smug grin on his face. “what? i’m helpin’.” sure, Stan. sure

♡ I wanna develop idea about cooking more, so: as i said, Stan can’t keep his hands off you when you’re cooking. for him it’s just an excuse to get his hands on your body. expect him to come up behind you, press his broad chest into your back, let his hands rest in your waist as his lips ghost over your neck, muttering “damn, you look so pretty, baby, you sure you don’t wanna skip dinner and come straight to bed?” when he’s rubbing his growing bulge against you while you’re stirring the pot, literally humping you in the middle of the kitchen. It’s hard not to laugh at how desperate he is

♡ the type of man who’ll insist he’s innocent even when he’s shamelessly and obviously staring. you could be fully dressed, wearing the baggiest clothes known to man and this filthy old bastard is still eye-fucking you. “what? can’t help it, doll, you’re beautiful.” no shame. zero!

♡ of course Stan loves to bury his face in your chest. it’s his happy place there. his hands sliding up your sides as he presses his face between your breasts, groaning, “fuckin’ heaven, toots. yer like a damn pillow, but better, so soft, so warm.” while you let your fingers run through his hair. It’s more about being intimate and soft though

♡ “goddamn, look at these beauties. best fuckin’ view in the world, ain’t it?”

♡ he’s a sucker for leaving marks on your breasts. bite marks, hickeys, little bruises from his teeth and fingers

♡ uhh. . . hear me out, him stuffing dollar bills into your bra as a joke (or no). “figure they’re safer here than my wallet anyway.”

♡ Stan loves when you wear anything that lets him see your nipples, especially when they’re hard (from cold or because you’re horny?), he goes crazy when thin shirt or a dress hugs your body. “goddamn, sweetie, could stare at those for hours.”

♡ his guilty pleasure is watching you put lotion on after a shower. you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, smoothing the cream over your arms, shoulders and chest and that old man is drooling

♡ Stan is so domestic, he loves the way you look in the morning, your breasts barely covered by his tank top that you stole. you stretch, yawning, your nipples peeking through the thin fabric and he’s already pulling you back into bed. “don’t care what we had planned today, baby. yer stayin’ right here with me.”

♡ Stanley gets so distracted when you’re undressing in front of him. doesn’t matter if it’s casual or if you’re trying to tease him, once your top comes off, his eyes are immediately glued to you while his cock already twitching to life in his pants. “jesus christ, woman, yer tryin’ to kill me. c’mere and let me get my hands on ya.”

♡ and when he finally gets you laid out on the bed, his hands worshiping every inch of you, oh, he takes his sweet time. dragging his thumbs over the stiff peaks of your nubs, leaning down to wrap his lips around one, sucking gently before giving it a teasing bite. he’s grinning against your skin when you gasp his name, one hand slipping down to spread your thighs apart while he gets comfortable between them. “love when you make these sounds. what’d i do to deserve this, huh?”

♡ oh, his tongue too. it’s wet and warm, circling slow before he flicks the nub just to watch your back arch. his free hand squeezes your other breast, pinching and tugging lightly on the nipple. he groans from how heavenly you taste. “softest damn tits I’ve ever had my hands on. christ, baby, I love you so much.”

♡ if you let him, he’ll press his cock between your breasts, his hands squishing them together as he ruts into the softness, groaning like a goddamn mess. “fuck, baby— mhmm, your so fuckin’ soft, look at this, huh? takin’ me so good, atta girl.”

♡ more thoughts about breasts fuck. i personally think Stan would love it? because there’s something about the sight of his heavy cock sliding between your breasts, the way you press them together for him, making a perfect, soft little channel for him to fuck into like a needy old man he is. he gasps, praises you, worships you whole as he watches himself disappear between them, his tip slick and glistening with precum every time it peaks out

♡ “fuck, doll, keep squeezin’ ’em like that. jesus, yer gonna make me cum just from lookin’ at ya.” and he does, oh, he does. he spills his seed all over your chest. and when he’s finished, Stan isn’t shy about making a mess, watching his cum drip down your breasts

♡ when he’s drunk, Stan gets even more handsy than usual

♡ you get him worked up sometimes by accident. like, when you’re reaching for something high up on a shelf and your shirt rides up, giving him the perfect view of your waist, those soft curves that drive him absolutely crazy. Stan will mumble something like “god, babe—gimme a second, I gotta go fix somethin’ in the back room. . . you know how it is with my old bones.” but it’s all a damn lie because he just needs to take a breather after staring at your body for the last five minutes

♡ Stan absolutely loves when you’re riding him, leaning over with your tits pressed into his face. he doesn’t care if it’s just for a few seconds or longer, he wants to feel them on his lips. he’ll lift his head slightly to suck on your cute nipples or trail hot kisses down your cleavage, his hands gripping your ass as he pushes his hips up to meet you. “sh-shit, baby, lemme just. . .”

♡ you lean over the counter while talking to him, doesn’t matter if you’re talking about what’s for dinner or how the vending machine ate your dollar, his eyes are locked on your chest only, already undressing you in his mind. he’ll mutter something gruff like, “yeah, uh-huh”

♡ loves to make you squirm. Stan’s a teasing bastard and he knows exactly what he’s doing when he brushes his thumb over your sensitive nipple slowly, watching it pebble under his touch. “sensitive today, huh? what’s the matter, sweetheart? thought ya liked it when i played with these pretty little nubs of yours.” and then he pinches, just to hear you gasp and watch you press your thighs together

♡ i swear, Stan will make excuses to get you on his lap, just so he can slide his hands under your clothes and play with you while you sit there all flustered, giggling silly. “ain’t no law against touchin’ my girl, is there? c’mon, lemme have my fun, been thinkin’ about these all damn day.”

♡ as I mentioned, he’s a sucker for when you’re on top, bouncing on his cock while his big hands squeeze your waist, holding you so tenderly in his arms despite how hard and rough he bucks his hips into you, his mouth is latched onto your nipples. the way your breasts move drives him insane

♡ during lazy, slow sex, Stan loves lying on his side with you pressed against him, one hand massaging your breast as he thrusts into you slowly from behind. his lips are at your ear, whispering filthy things about how soft and warm you feel

♡ but when it’s rough, he’s gripping your breasts so hard you’ll have finger-shaped bruises the next day, pinching your nipples just to watch you arch your back and tremble under him, “you like that, huh? that’s right, my good fucking girl,” and every word he says he punctuates with a thrust. “can’t get enough of me touchin’ you, can ya?”

♡ reminder: Stan doesn’t just love your breasts because they’re sexy, though, yeah, they are. he loves them because they’re yours. soft, warm, comforting, just like you. and if he can bury his face in them and forget about the rest of the world for a little while? that’s just the cherry on top! a nice bonus!

♡ bonus: little blurb

sight of you in his suit jacket, oh god. that thing swallows you whole but it’s too big for you so it hangs off your shoulders, exposing your skin, letting him see your thighs as well. Stan’s jacket, smelling like cigars, is over you in a way that makes his throat go dry. and underneath that beautiful little bra you knew would make his head spin, it’s lace and soft cups hugging you in ways he wished his hands were right now. your cleavage drawing his attention like a magnet. no, it’s too goddamn much for Stan to handle

he’s slouched on the armchair, legs spread wide, trying to keep himself from losing control. his eyes latch onto the soft lace of your bra, the way it cups your tits just beautiful enough to tease him. he looks so needy already and you’ve barely touched him

“Jesus christ, doll.” sounds like he’s choking on his own breath. “yer doin’ this on purpose, parading around in my jacket, showin’ off these tits like some goddamn pin-up doll, huh.” his lips curl into a smirk

perfect, just exact reaction you waited. you bite your lip, stepping closer, swaying your hips for him. you play it coy, of course. shifting the jacket like it’s just slipping off, letting one strap of your bra peek out more. “what? this old thing?” you smile like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing

and then he’s got his hands on you in an instant, dragging you into his lap because he can’t stand another second of his pretty girl being out of reach. his palms feels rough as they grip your hips, tugging you down until your thighs straddle his.

“you tryin’ to kill me, toots? walkin’ around like that, wearin’ my jacket.”

your knees settle on either side of him, and his hands waste no time sliding up your thighs, over your hips, and straight to your waist, holding you close to him because this man is always starved for physical contact. his thumbs dip under the edge of the jacket, brushing the bare skin just above your bra

“Staaanley,” you breathe, your lips hovering just above his. your hands tangling in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan.

“No, no, no, don’t you ‘stan’ me, pretty,” he mutters, and one of his hands slips behind your back to unclasp your bra with a flick of his fingers, the other cupping your breast like he’s been dying to touch you all day. “you don’t get to tease me like that, wearin’ this fuckin’ outfit, and then say my name like some innocent little thing. you know exactly what you’re doin’, don’tcha?”

his thumb brushes over your nipple and then his lips follow, placing wet and hot kisses along your breast, sucking gently before biting down to make you gasp.

“That’s it,” he groans against your skin. “wanna hear all those pretty little sounds you make, baby. fuck, you’ve got me harder than a goddamn rock.”

he’s saying true because you feel the evidence of that pressing against your core, even through your panties. his free hand slides between your thighs, fingers pressing against the damp fabric and you whimper when he rubs slow circles over your needy clit.

Stan grins as he pushes the lace aside. “you’re fuckin’ soaked. all this from me touchin’ your tits? jesus, doll, yer even dirtier than i thought.”

his fingers tease your wet entrance, rubbing over your folds before dipping inside, and your head falls against his shoulder, moaning as he pumps them slow and deep.

“C’mon, baby,” Stanley brushes his lips over your ear as he fucks you with his fingers, his other hand still kneading your breast. “tell me who you belong to. say my name, and i’ll give you everything you want. everything. I’ll fuck you so good.”

you moan his name, digging your nails into his shoulders

“Yes, that’s it,” his hand moves faster. “gonna make you scream for me, sweetheart. make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

#I NEED THIS OLD MAN #smut #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls #x reader #gravity falls x you #gravity falls smut #stan pines #stanley pines smut #grunkle stan #stan pines x reader #stan pines smut #stan pines x you #stanley pines x you #stanley pines x reader #gravity falls headcanons #gravity falls stanley

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lunajay33 · 5 months ago

Text

Hold Me🖤

Summary: You’re Rhysands sister and have been fooling around with Azriel in secret but when you find out you’re pregnant you become panicked and sick with worry about what could happen

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

•Masterlist•

Everything was fun, growing up with Rhys, Cassian and Azriel was a blast they always involved me when they could and as we grew up we all got busy with responsibilities in the Nightcourt, Rhys became the high lord, Azriel a shadow singer and Cassian a general commander, I helped Rhys with making plans and helping anyway I could

But then he got stuck under the mountain and I became lonely in a way, he’s my twin and it felt like my other half was ripped from me, and I guess some how in the 50 years he was gone Azriel was there for me and to relax we started fooling around and it was fun, he treated me like a goddess and along the way I caught feelings for him but before I could confess Rhysand came back and that’s all that mattered, he went through so much and I did everything I could to be there for him and then he found his mate and she became a new part of our family and seeing how happy she made my brother made me love her all the more

Azriel and I continued to hook up here and there and honestly the sneaking around made it even more hot

“Can I ask you something?” He asked as we were laid in my bed late at night after one of our sessions, his shadows skimming up and down my legs as his hands did the same to my waist

“Of course Az”

“Did you ever feel like maybe we would’ve been mates?”

“Yeah, I love ever bit of you and I always will, maybe it’s just not our time yet, we aren’t all as lucky as Rhys and Feyre” I smile still not giving up hope of us

“Do you really think that?” His voice think with sleep

“I do, I’ll never give up on you Az, I……..I love you” his stroking stopped and his shadows quivered against my skin, he stood up throwing on his sweatpants and going to leave

“Wait Az where are you going?” My heart felt heavy in my chest

“I……I can’t” he stammers out as he disappears into the darkness of the night

I sit there alone feeling the cold night settle in and my heart break, I thought he felt more for me, was this all a mistake

The tears finally fall and it’s hard not to cry louder, I eventually cry myself to sleep waking to the morning sun shinning in my eyes only make the headache worse

I drag myself out of bed and pull on my deep blue robe Azriel had gotten me, looking at myself in the mirror I look awful, my eyes puffy and red and so is my cheeks, stained in streaks of tears, I sigh finally nothing my heart ache

I trudge down the stairs to meet the family for our usual breakfast, when I get to the table it’s no surprise that Azriel isn’t there, I slump down in a chair next to Rhys and rest my head on his shoulder

“Y/n you okay you look a little rough……have you been crying sweetie?” Feyre asks from beside Rhys

That was all it took for the dam to burst again and I’m crying uncontrollably infront of everyone, Rhys holds me tighter Cassian next to me rubbing my back reassuringly

“Sis what’s going on? I haven’t seen you like this since mom”

“I’m such a loser how could I think anyone could love me…..I’m sorry I shouldn’t have come down this morning” I say standing up but Rhys and Feyre look at eachother and I know they’re talking to eachother in their heads

I go back to my room feeling nauseous I run to my washroom and throw up what was left of last nights supper, I barely get sick the last time I got sick was when I couldn’t feel Rhys anymore and he was locked under the mountain, that’s when it hit me

Frantically I get dressed in something other than a robe and Winnow away to Madja

“Darling are you alright?” She asks as she leads me to sit in the bed

“I think…..I think I might be pregnant” she gives me a reassuring smile and starts doing her tests

“You’re right, you’re pregnant with a little girl, you’re about two months along” she said laying a reassuring hand on my shoulder

“Okay thank you Madja” I sigh winnowing back home to my room

Pregnant and now I don’t even know where Azriel went and he obviously wants nothing to do with me, how did my life get so messy in a day, a knock at my door rang through my room before Rhys and Feyre came in sitting across from me on my bed

“Hey wanna talk about whatever’s going on?”

“Please don’t be mad, I couldn’t deal with that ontop of everything”

“I’d never be mad at you sis” I sucked in a breath before finally telling them the secret I’ve held ontop for decades

“Well when you got trapped under the mountain I was a mess I couldn’t get out of bed but one night Azriel came and reassured me and gave me hope again and I guess along the way we wanted to distract eachother………we started hooking up and it’s been fun but i love him Rhys, I finally told him last night and he panicked and left and now…..”

“Now what?” Feyre encouraged me to go on

“I’m pregnant, I don’t know what to do Rhys I thought he was the one and now I’m alone and I have no idea where he is” they looked at me with wide eyes only making me more anxious

“Oh my little star it’ll be okay, I know how he is with feelings maybe he just needed time to think about everything and whatever happens I’m gonna be here for you and my little….”

“Niece, it’s a girl” only making his smile bigger

“A little girl….i love you sis everything will work out” they both gave me a big hug and left giving me my space

•

The sun began to set and I’ve calmed down a bit from the craziness of the day, Cassian brought me a cup of hot chocolate and a plate of crackers and cheese, now I’m just relaxing trying to ease my wild thoughts when I feel a little tickle at my feet, looking down it’s the shadows I’ve come to adore, seeing Azriel stood at the foot of my bed

“You’re back! Listen I’m sorry about last night I didn’t mean to scare you off” I sigh sitting up in bed

“No it’s not your fault I just…..I’ve never had someone love me the way you do and I just felt like I wasn’t enough for you but after a little chat with Rhys I realize you’re the one for me even if we aren’t mates”

“Really! Are you sure you’re not just saying that so he doesn’t kill you”

“I’m sure I love you” that’s when I felt it that glowing string in my chest that sang for him and I could tell he felt it too as he wrapped his arms around me

“My mate” I sighed contently

“My mate and my child”

“You know?”

“Of course I know, I hear everything remember” he smiled

Finally everything was the way it was suppose to be

#azriel x female!reader #azriel one shot #azriel x you #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel #rhys acotar #Rhys x sister #acotar oneshot #acotar fanfiction #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #Azriel x pregnant reader

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dioslesbianwife · 2 months ago

Note

can you do the jojos and jofoes with a gyaru reader?

sure, hope you enjoy, ty for requesting <333

Jonathan Joestar

Very confused but polite. He doesn’t understand your fashion at all but will never judge you for it.

Might worry that you’re “too bold” for society’s standards. “Are you certain you don’t want a more modest dress?” But if you’re happy, he won’t say another word.

Thinks your nails, hair, and makeup are fascinating and listens attentively when you talk about them.

Joseph Joestar

Thinks you’re AWESOME. “Damn, you’re stylish as hell! You gotta teach me some of that stuff!”

Loves the flashy nails, hair, and accessories. Might even let you paint his nails as a joke (but secretly enjoys it).

Tries to use different slang but gets it all wrong. “So like, is this kawaii max or whatever?”

Jotaro Kujo

Silent stare. Slow blink.

Honestly? He doesn’t care. You do you.

If anyone makes fun of you, he will deck them.

“Tch. You talk too much.” (But secretly likes listening to you ramble about fashion trends.)

Josuke Higashikata

IMMEDIATELY impressed. Loves stylish people, so he thinks you look amazing.

Will hype you up every time you change your look. “Damn, you look cute as hell today!”

Loves that you take care of your hair, because he also takes his hair very seriously.

Probably asks for your help in picking out outfits.

Giorno Giovanna

Very chill, but he definitely notices your sense of style.

“You have an eye for beauty.” He respects that.

Will never judge you, but he will be brutally honest about what looks good. “That shade doesn’t suit your complexion. Try this.”

Secretly impressed by how well put together you always are.

Jolyne Cujoh

Thinks you look COOL AS HELL.

Will 100% let you do her nails, hair, and makeup.

She’s into bold fashion too, so she loves having a partner-in-crime for shopping.

If anyone talks shit, she’ll cuss them out immediately.

Johnny Joestar

Confused but rolls with it.

“You’re a little much, but hey, whatever makes you happy.”

Lowkey impressed by how much effort you put into looking good.

Will never admit it, but he kinda likes when you pamper him.

Josuke Higashikata (Gappy)

Tilts his head like a confused dog. “Gyaru?”

Thinks your style is interesting but doesn’t fully get it.

Doesn’t care what you wear as long as you’re happy.

Will just nod and say, “Looks good,” no matter what.

Dio Brando

“Hmph. Such vanity… I like it.”

Absolutely respects the confidence. He values self-adornment, so he sees you as someone who knows their worth.

Will gift you jewelry and expensive clothes, just to see you draped in luxury.

Might tease you for being “frivolous,” but secretly loves how bold you are.

Kars

Raises an eyebrow. “Humans and their strange trends…”

He thinks your dedication to beauty is admirable but unimportant compared to his perfection.

If you explain gyaru culture, he’ll scoff but still listen.

“At least you have standards. Unlike most mortals.”

Yoshikage Kira

Internally screaming. Your bright fashion and bubbly nature are the exact opposite of his ideal quiet, unnoticed life.

Tries to act like it doesn’t bother him, but your boldness makes him nervous.

If you do your nails a certain way, he might get uncomfortably fixated on them.

“You’re… very lively. Try not to stand out too much.”

Diavolo

“...” (Long stare, trying to process your existence.)

Hates how eye-catching you are. You’re the complete opposite of his desire to remain hidden.

Secretly impressed by your confidence, though.

Might let you paint his nails if you insist. But only black.

Doppio

“You look pretty cool!”

Genuinely excited about your fashion. He thinks you’re super fun to be around.

Loves it when you do cute nail art for him.

“Boss, don’t you think they look amazing?” (Diavolo: “Focus, Doppio.”)

Enrico Pucci

Deep sigh. “God is testing me.”

Thinks your fashion is excessive and distracting, but won’t tell you how to live your life.

Will try to convince you to embrace a simpler, more humble look.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with such worldly things.” (But he does notice how much effort you put into your looks.)

Funny Valentine

Politely intrigued. “You are certainly… unique.”

As long as you support his ideologies, he does not care how you dress.

Might suggest a more “refined” version of your style to suit political events.

Secretly enjoys your confidence. A bold woman is a powerful woman.

Tooru

“Oh? Now this is a rare aesthetic.”

Thinks your style is super interesting and probably flirts with you nonstop.

Loves teasing you about your fashion choices. “You must spend hours getting ready… Do you do that for me?”

Secretly enjoys when you focus on him, like offering to do his nails or style his hair.

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moonchildstyles · 1 year ago

Note

hiii i was wondering if you would write a blurb about vamp h taking care of a drunk y/n lol i think it’d be awfully cute omg or a girls night out (+ one vampire) and he’s like trailing after her trying to keep her out of trouble

wordcount: 3.9k+

—————

"Darling, are you certain you are not going to be cold?"

Twisting and turning in the mirror, her dress ruched over her body in tight folds, it took all of (Y/N)'s effort to keep her smile at bay. "I'm sure I'll be fine, H. It's not that cold out, and we won't be spending much time outside anyway."

It was clear he still wasn't pleased at her answer with the way he folded his arms across his chest and set his mouth in a grim line. (Y/N) had to bite back her smile lest he see her amusement from where he was leaning against the doorframe to her closet. He hadn't moved much from where he'd started the night watching her try on practically every outfit she had stuffed into both their wardrobe and closet.

She could feel his eyes on her as she smoothed her dress over her thighs, pulling down the hem another inch before ruching it back up. Counting down in her head, she had to keep herself from laughing when he followed the same pattern he'd curated for the past ten minutes.

"What if you fall ill? Or the weather changes while we're out? Y'could freeze before I have a chance to warm you."

This time, she couldn't stop the laugh from falling from her lips. She stopped her assessment in the mirror, turning to Harry with her amusement clear on her features and a cant of her head.

"H, c'mon."

His own expression tightened, his stubborn streak peeking out. "Come on, what?"

Stepping towards him on bare feet, (Y/N) peered up at him. "I know you think humans can't handle anything, but, honestly, do you really think it's that easy for me to get sick or freeze to death?"

They both knew well that Harry had done his share of research when it came to anything human. Especially after bonding and ensuring (Y/N) wanted to be at his side for their forever, he'd deep dived into anything and everything human to refresh his knowledge and become the most perfect beloved he could be—including knowing just how to take care of her. He knew better than to assume she would drop dead after a gust of wind.

Despite the stubborn line of his jaw, he relented, "No."

"Then, why are you so nervous about tonight?" she crooned, wrapping her arms around his middle with her chin set on his chest.

His palms ghosted down her back, leaving a chilled trail just barely felt through the fabric of her dress, until he stopped at the bottom of her spine. His touch was delicate. She could see the whole of him softening the longer she looked up at him.

"You know I worry about you," he murmured, "Anything is possible when it comes to humans. I dread testing the limits when it comes to you."

As much as she teased him and found his concern over something as simple as a breeze something to laugh over, the root of it all was something that had her softening. It was hard not to hear his words and grow tender.

"I promise I'm going to be okay, Harry," she told him, "I'm going to bring a jacket, and you're meeting us after dinner, anyway. If I feel like I need more than my jacket I can text you and let you know."

Though she knew he would never be one hundred percent pleased with her answer unless it was her layering up with all dangers padlocked away from her, this seemed to be enough for him as he sucked in an unnecessary breath.

"I suppose that will work," he sighed, overdramatic as always, "You are rather strong."

Stretching to the tips of her toes, (Y/N) pecked a quick kiss to the soft of Harry's lip. "I promise I'll be okay. Thank you for worrying about me, though."

He chased after her when she pulled away, craning his neck to steal one more kiss before she landed on the flat of her feet once more. "'S a privilege, m'love."

It was poetry like that that almost had her agreeing to wrap up in layers and layers complete with a shell of bubble wrap before she left the house.

—————

Harry couldn't keep the frown from his face as he parked across the street from the nightclub he was meeting (Y/N) and her friends at. He'd never been to an establishment like this before (minus blood clubs but that was an entirely different concept that appealed to his more baser needs, so it didn't count), and, judging by the specimens he could see pouring in and out, he would have liked to keep it that way.

But, this was where (Y/N) had asked him to meet her and there was no way he was going to let her down.

He was just going to have to hold his breath, he decided. Before setting foot inside, he was sure he would not be a fan of the scents perfuming the building.

It would only be a few hours, he reminded himself as he stepped out of his car. Hours like this were a minute compared to the eternity of his existence. He could handle tonight without a doubt.

The slight breeze in the air (he didn't even want to think about (Y/N)'s bare legs enduring this wind) pushed open the unbuttoned lapels of his shirt. He hadn't been sure what he should wear for the night, but he took some cues from (Y/N)'s dress and heels when he decided to pull a shimmering satin piece from the wardrobe and fitted black trousers. Looking at the young men walking in and stumbling out of the nightclub, he wondered if they were underdressed or if he was overdressed.

That concern didn't last long, though, pushed aside once he heard a familiar peal of laughter pouring out of the swinging door of the nightclub. What he was wearing was pushed to the back of his mind then, his priority shifting. He needed to get inside and ensure (Y/N) was alright just like she had promised.

Making it to the entrance of the nightclub, Harry was stopped by a man tucked away in a cubby by the door. He was dressed in all black, a bored expression on his face when Harry approached.

"Hey, how are you?" the man asked, barely looking at Harry as he spoke.

A furrow pinched Harry's brow. "I am well, thank you."

At his abrupt tone, the man finally chanced a look at Harry. He lingered for only a moment on his stern expression before seemingly shaking it off. "That's great, man. Can I see your ID?"

The man set his hand out, palm up in expectation. The knit in Harry's brows tightened that much more at the ask. This never happened at the blood clubs from what he could remember; why did it matter who he was before stepping inside?

Nonetheless, he pulled out the (forged) ID out of his wallet, passing it off to the man with a quick flash of his hand. The man barely glanced at the piece of plastic before he flicked his eyes back up to Harry with a slight smile curling his lips.

"So, you're Harry," the man pointed out, passing back Harry's ID.

Pocketing it, Harry wasn't sure what this man was trying to get at, but answered him nonetheless, "Yes. That's me. Why?"

The man shook his head, a small laugh falling from his lips before he stepped away from the door. "Nothing. Your girlfriend just made sure to let everyone know you were coming tonight. She'll be excited to see you."

Mumbling a thank you to the man, Harry stepped around him and entered the nightclub. While it was a sweet thought that (Y/N) had boasted about him to the nightclub staff, he wasn't sure why she would go through all of the trouble. It wasn't like her to bubble off to strangers.

The lights were off, leaving the bar lining the back of the space with only a dim glow for the tenders to work by. The main floor, full of people dancing (at least that's what he thought that was what they were doing. Harry couldn't be sure, and he truthfully didn't want to look close enough to find out) was the darkest space with only pumping strobes and multicolored spotlights to be the only guides. Here and there were tall tables stationed by the bar and rounded booths tucked into the walls, no seat left unclaimed despite the busy dance floor. Scanning his eyes over the packed bodies, Harry searched for a familiar dress or the peak of a familiar scent, hoping to find (Y/N) somewhere.

His hunt didn't take long, finding (Y/N) with a few other girls he was familiar with only through photos on the far edge of the dancing crowd. He was only able to catch a view of her profile, where she had a lazy smile on her lips and her lashes sitting half lidded over her eyes. There was a cup in her hand, the neon liquid almost empty between shards of ice, though she still managed to slosh it almost to the edge with every uncoordinated sway of her body.

Harry didn't waste any time before he was meandering his way through the throng of bodies, keeping his breath stilted so as to not bother his senses with the scent of so many others that were not his beloved. It was bad enough he felt the heat of their bodies and the unnecessary brushes against him, he didn't want anything more from him to invade his senses.

Just as he hit the edges of their little group, (Y/N) stumbled on her heels, her features falling. In a rush, Harry was at her side, saving her balance and settling her back on her feet. A bewildered expression crossed her face, one he was sure matched her friends who all had eyes on him as well. Though the second she recognized his chilled touch and the familiar hands wrapped around her arms, she loosened back into her oblivious state.

"Harry!" she cheered, completely forgetting about her almost finished drink when she twirled on her feet and threw her arms around his shoulders, "You're here!"

His bunched muscles finally relaxed, allowing him to reciprocate her hug. Dipping his head down, his cheek pressed to hers with his lips by her ear, he murmured, "'M here, love. Are y'alright?"

"Yeah, why?" she bubbled, seemingly having wiped the stumble right out of her mind already.

It didn't take Harry's extra senses to notice the vodka on her breath, though he was sure he was the only one that could notice the sharp edge added to her scent from the alcohol. With how saturated it was, she hadn't just started her night at the club. That would at least explain why she had made sure to alert the man out front that her boyfriend (a silly title, but cute nonetheless) was on his way.

"No reason," he smiled, dropping his hands to sit on her waist, "Are y'having fun?"

"I am! I'm so happy you're here now! I've been telling everyone that you were coming, and now you're here!"

The glaze over her eyes was enough to draw Harry in, his lips curling into an amused smile. He'd never seen her anything past a bit tipsy. Drunk (Y/N) was a person he'd never met before.

Before he had a chance to offer any kind of response, using a surprising amount of her strength given her state, she pulled him along before presenting him to her friends.

"Guys!" she bubbled, catching the attention of the rest of the women, "Look who's here!"

One of the women looked decidedly more sober than the rest, though Harry could smell a tint of alcohol on her as well. She was the first to step forward, giving a small smile.

"Harry, right?" she said, the ends of her short blonde hair dusting her collarbones, "(Y/N)'s been so excited to see you tonight."

"As I've learned," he laughed, offering a hand out for her to shake, "And you are?"

"Oh, I'm Charlotte! It's nice to meet you!"

At that, the surrounding group made their own introductions with (Y/N) clinging to his side. He dedicated each name to memory, hoping that would help him pass the test that he was surely going through that night. Meeting her friends had been foiled before with the changes in weather keeping him stuck inside, or his insistence that (Y/N) live her life outside of him lest she feel trapped in the manor at his side. Tonight had been the first time everything had fallen into place: a girls' night with an open invitation after dinner.

Shifting his arm around her shoulders, Harry pulled (Y/N) to his side as he guided her out of the way of those still dancing behind them. His features set pleasantly neutral, he looked towards Charlotte first.

"(Y/N) told me your significant others might also be joining us tonight," he drawled, his version of asking of their whereabouts as he seemed to be the only boyfriend having shown up so far.

"I'm not sure, actually," Charlotte mused, the evidence of her own drinking beginning to show. "I know my boyfriend will be here to pick me up later, but I haven't really heard anything about the other girls’. It might just be you, if that's okay."

Feeling eyes on him, Harry glanced down at his side to see (Y/N) still gazing up at him with a dreamy smile on her lips. He hoped he didn't come off as rude when the sight distracted him as Charlotte spoke, taking a beat to reciprocate her look and keep her snug to his side.

"I am okay with that. I hope 'm not intruding on your night then," Harry charmed, shooting his gaze around the room in search of a vacant booth or barstool, "Perhaps, I can find a free spot and let you all have fun without me interrupting."

"No," (Y/N) piped up, "You have to stay with us now! I don't want you to go."

Her words are slightly slurred but her passion was clear enough. He didn't bother to look at what the rest of the women had to say, only worrying about keeping the smile on his beloved face. "Okay, then I will stay, love. I will still try to find a table, though, so y'can sit with me for a little."

She was more than quelled by his answer, her body pliant against his own as if she were already ready for him to drag her wherever he wanted.

"I don't know if anything is going to be open," Charlotte interjected, having heard his proposal over the music, "I've been hoping someone would move, but they've all been taken since we got here."

"I'm sure I can make something work," Harry smiled, already spotting a booth he would prefer over the others, "We'll be right back."

As soon as Harry stepped out of the small circle formed by their group with (Y/N) on his arm, it was closed up once more, though he could feel eyes pasted to his back watching where they went. Aware of her stumbling steps at his side, Harry took it slow as he escorted her towards a booth situated in the back corner, just out of view of the others.

"I think people have—hic—they're already sitting there, H," (Y/N) murmured.

"'S alright," he answered, tightening his hold on her hand, "I think they're about to leave."

He didn't waste any time in reaching the group, a charming smile on his lips when he picked out the leader. An underdressed (in Harry's opinion) blonde man with a drink in hand seemed to be the center of attention, the first one to acknowledge Harry approaching.

Before he could utter any kind of greeting, Harry took over the situation. "Hello," he smiled, "M'girlfriend and her friends would like to sit here, please."

The man looked bewildered for a moment, unable to meet Harry's eyes. "Um—I'm sorry, but—"

"No need to be sorry," Harry cut him off, voice taking on a quality he didn't utilize very often, but this was a special occasion, "You can find another space. Right?"

As soon as the man met his eyes, Harry could tell the effects he wanted were taking place. It was all within the span of a heartbeat that this man took Harry's words as his own idea and nodded his head.

"Yeah, we can find another spot," he relented, a faux cheer to his voice as he beckoned his friends to follow him out, "C'mon, guys, let's try the bar."

There were a few questioning glances thrown to both the man as well as Harry, but no one questioned. Instead they only murmured amongst themselves as they followed their leader towards the bartop. As he led her into the now free vinyl seating, (Y/N) was one of the few that had a question in her eyes and pinch in her brows.

"How did you do that?" she asked, her voice low under the music but still audible to Harry's ears, "Is that a vampire thing?"

A breath of laughter fell from his lips at her words. "A little bit, yes. I don't like to do it often, but I want to make sure y'have somewhere to sit and relax while I get y'some water."

"You're getting me water?" she questioned, thoroughly distracted at his new offer as if she didn't have a cup of half melted ice in her hand.

"Mhm," he hummed, releasing her hand once she had tucked herself into the corner of the booth, "After I grab your friends, 'm getting y'some water before y'have any more fun."

With the way she was looking at him, he would have figured he had proposed and offered diamonds and jewels to her, and not just a glass of water from the bar. This night was already going better than he'd thought.

—————

"Did you guys know that Harry's a painter?! Like, he does huge murals and things all over the house! He's amazing."

Only Charlotte seemed to catch (Y/N) words—the same declaration she had cheered about only ten minutes prior. She and Harry exchanged a small glance while the rest of the table treated this as new information.

It'd been a long time since Harry had drank, and even longer since he'd been intoxicated to (Y/N)'s degree. Was short term memory something that was now lost when mixed with spirits, or was that just her?

"Do you really?!" one of (Y/N)'s friends (Cecilia, maybe?) bubbled, her cup of ice water cradled in her hands as she leant over the table with wide eyes, "What kind of stuff do you paint?"

"A little bit of everything," Harry answered, just as he had the last time a similar question was posed, "M'style has changed a lot over the last year or so. I can show you all some time if you'd like—'m sure (Y/N) would love to have you over to the manor."

Even Charlotte perked up at this offer, looking to (Y/N) for confirmation. "That would be so much fun, (Y/N)! We could do that the next time we get together!"

At that, Harry sat back while the chattering arose amongst the group. Under the table, his hand rested on (Y/N)'s thigh, the warmth of her skin anchoring him through the pumping music, strobing lights, and unfamiliar smells surrounding him. As much as he was aiming to leave a good first impression on her friends, he was still very much out of his element in the nightclub. He hoped (Y/N) would call for him to take her home sooner rather than later.

As if she knew he had her on his mind, (Y/N) leant into his side, looking up at him with a toothy grin and affectionate eyes. The chattering was going strong on the other side of the table, the conversation sounding as if the women were making plans for their next outing together—one that would take place at the manor with bottles of wine and movies.

"You'd really be alright with everyone coming over?" (Y/N) asked, moony eyes trained on his face.

"Of course," he answered, a smile landing on his face on instinct, "It is your home too, petal. Y'can have your friends over as well—'s not jus' Mitch and Niall that are allowed over."

She curled into his side, her thigh under the table practically draped over his own. "Do you think Sarah would want to hang out with us?"

The thought of Sarah playing around with a bunch of human girls was more amusing than he thought it would be. He wondered if that was how she and Mitch felt when they realized he was courting a human girl.

"She might," he told her, keeping his amusement to himself, "I can ask for you."

In an impossible feat, (Y/N) looked that much more in love with him at his offer. As much as he missed her regular scent without the sticky edge of alcohol, he did like just how tender she became—adoring his every and any move.

"That would be so nice, H. Thank you," she told him earnestly, her hand coming to rest on his middle with his shirt in her grip, "You're the best ever, you know that?"

"I have been told as much a few times." All by her, but that was a detail that he would leave out for the moment.

"Well," she pouted, "It's true. I'm so happy you came tonight. I think the girls really like you, too."

"Yeah?" he smiled, hoping it was more than just her drunken tongue making the claim.

"Mhm," she hummed, stretching to rest her head on his shoulder with a squeeze of her hand over his shoulder, "You're better than all of their boyfriends."

At that, Harry couldn't help but to release the laugh building in his chest. While he understood the sentiment, that wasn't quite the impact he was going for.

"You think so?" Harry questioned, unable to wipe his amusement from his voice.

(Y/N) didn't seem to notice—or, most likely, care—responding with a definitive nod. "I know so."

Another breathy laugh left his lips as he ducked his head, burying his nose in her hair. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Charlotte glancing their way; an adoring smile tugged at the corner of her mouth when she saw the way her friend clung to him.

Taking in a lungful of (Y/N)'s scent, Harry decided that nightclubs weren't so bad.

At least when (Y/N) was there.

“Wait, (Y/N),” Cecilia babbled, a look of urgency on her face, “You said he cooks, right? You cook right?”

Her attention was splashed over Harry then, forcing him to draw away from (Y/N)’s hair. Clearing his throat under the music, he nodded his head. “I do, yes.”

A squeal fell from her lips with her companions being just as excited. “Would you make us food when we come over? (Y/N) says you’re so good!”

Just as (Y/N) perked up at his side, turning her wide eyes on him, Harry stifled his own laugh. God, how he wished he had been a fly on the wall while she apparently spouted off all these facts about him—the ones reserved for her.

“If you’d like.”

Just as he expected, more noise erupted from the table.

—————

thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please send in any fun ideas or requests you have!!

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ryuzakistoe · 7 months ago

Text

Conflicted (Michael Kaiser x Fem!reader)

angst, fem!reader, arguing, and uhhh basically all angst, childhood friends, swearing

a/n: after this I honestly have no idea who to do next. I'm kinda in between Isagi again or someone else🤷‍♀️

I also got this as inspiration

BTW IM SO SORRY FOR BEING LATE

(omg I finally got it to work omg)

——

Experiencing someone you love deeply suddenly transform into a stranger can feel like the ground has fallen away beneath you. The trust you placed in them, the cherished memories, the laughter shared—all of it can vanish in an instant, leaving you grappling with an unbearable emptiness.

In the face of such devastation, some cling desperately to hope, convinced that the past can be reclaimed. They construct fragile illusions to shield themselves from the harsh truth, believing that everything will somehow return to the way it was. But these comforting lies only deepen the wounds, which lie temporarily closed, waiting to reopen with even more agony.

How long could you endure this torment? Some carry this weight for a lifetime, while others crumble under the pressure far too soon. For you, how long will you hold on, waiting for that moment when you perhaps see him again? How long until the heaviness of his “explanation” crushes you? In the end, when the truth finally pierces through the lies you've built around your heart, how will you cope with the devastation and lies?

Thats up to you.

…🥀…

Frequent moves were a normal part of your life, given that your father, a businessman, was always busy either supporting or establishing new companies. Over time, you became accustomed to the constant change, no longer feeling as upset or frustrated about leaving behind new memories and friends.

With your mother having sadly passed away, your father was the only family you had. However, his demanding schedule often kept him away, leaving you with too much free time. You would often wander aimlessly, your father always worrying since you were still so young.

One day, during one of these aimless walks, you noticed a boy around your age dressed in dusty, worn clothes, playing with an old, worn out soccer ball. You found yourself standing there, captivated, as he skillfully shifted the ball from one foot to the other. The fluid motion of his dribbling drew you in, sparking a sense of fascination.

Eventually, the boy noticed your quiet admiration.

"Can I help you, gnädige Frau?" he asked, his thick German accent coloring his voice as he stopped the ball under his foot.

Since arriving in Germany a few months ago, you had made steady progress with the language. Your father insisted you familiarize yourself with the formalities and learn a good number of words, as speaking German would be essential for getting by.

"I was just watching you play," you replied, mirroring his language and matching the casual energy in his tone.

He regarded you for a moment, as though sizing you up, before speaking again. "Do you know how to play? Fußball, meine ich," he said, his expression unreadable.

You hesitated briefly. While you were familiar with the basics and rules of football, you'd never actually played it. Your most significant experience with the sport had been attending a game with your cousin—an exciting memory, but that was as far as it went.

"I'm not sure how to play, but I understand the basics and the rules," you admitted, glancing briefly at the soccer ball.

"Only the basics, huh?" he murmured, flicking the ball up with the same foot that had held it steady. It flew in the air before dropping neatly into his arms.

The blonde boy began to walk toward you, his gaze fixed on you the entire time. Stopping just a few feet away, he asked, "What's your name?"

"Y/n L/n," you answered softly.

"Y/n L/n…" he echoed, as if testing the sound of your name on his tongue. His eyes drifted to the side, and he repeated your name again, his tone thoughtful, as though trying to commit it to memory or decipher some hidden meaning within it.

“And what's your name?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at his peculiar behavior.

The blonde boy seemed to snap out of his thoughts, his eyes meeting yours again. "Michael Kaiser," he replied.

Without warning, he tossed the ball toward you, giving you no time to react. It landed between your feet, and you glanced down at it slowly.

"Kick the ball," he instructed.

You looked back up at Kaiser, processing his words. Kick the ball? That sounded simple enough. You positioned your foot carefully, recalling how professional players did it, and swung your leg forward.

The ball rolled back to Kaiser with surprising smoothness, considering you had little experience with football.

Catching it effortlessly with his foot, Kaiser smirked. "Not bad for someone who doesn't know how to play," he remarked.

You weren’t sure if he was being genuine or just mocking you. "Thanks," you mumbled quietly, watching as he shuffled the ball between his feet.

He suddenly paused, then said something that caught you off guard. "Play with me."

You raised an eyebrow. "But I told you, I don’t really know how to play."

"I'll teach you," he responded almost instantly, his tone carrying a hint of urgency. There was a longing in his voice, and you could understand why. It had clearly been a while since he'd had anyone to play with.

Kaiser was always alone. The other kids avoided him, seeing him as an oddball because of his scruffy clothes, unkempt hair, and the bruises that covered him—marks left by his father. They treated him like an outcast, believing there was something wrong with him.

While they ignored him, Kaiser watched from a distance, wishing he could join in, longing for the kind of companionship they took for granted.

He would often imagine himself in the place of one of the other kids, letting his mind create a vivid scene of joining in and having fun. It was as if his consciousness played alongside them while his real body stayed behind, observing from a distance.

But now, he had a real chance to play with someone, no longer just imagining the experience.

Kaiser began teaching you everything he knew about football. You didn’t become an instant expert, but you quickly gained a better understanding of the sport. It started simply, with the two of you passing the ball back and forth while he explained the basics. Gradually, he introduced more advanced moves, each one more challenging than the last.

Before long, you had learned almost everything he had to teach, and Kaiser was genuinely pleased. Finally, he had someone to share the game with—a real companion, not just a daydream.

Day after day, whenever your father was busy with work, you met up with Kaiser. The two of you would play quick soccer matches, though Kaiser usually came out on top. It didn’t matter to him who won; having someone to share his favorite pastime with was all he had ever wanted as of right now.

You found yourself enjoying his company too. Since moving here, you hadn’t had anyone to talk to, spending most of your free time wandering aimlessly through unfamiliar places. Meeting Kaiser changed that. He had become an important part of your life, and you could tell that he felt the same.

The time you spent together brought you happiness, and the bond you shared grew stronger with each passing day. But then, a few years later, everything began to change.

…🥀…

Kaiser was well aware of his growing feelings for you. He wasn’t oblivious; he knew all too well the risks of letting them show. But that didn't stop them from deepening. It only made it harder to ignore.

After years of hard work, he finally secured a spot on Bastard München’s football team—a dream realized, and you had been there through it all. You were always by his side, ready to support him whenever he needed it. You were the person he could lean on, and that meant everything to him.

Over time, he came to depend on you. There were days when it felt like you were the only one who truly understood him, when he found himself seeking you out for solace. Your presence brought him a sense of calm that no one else could.

He began to rely on you.

It was inevitable, really. Being around someone as steadfast and caring as you, his feelings naturally began to shift and grow into something more.

He started to notice the way his gaze lingered on you whenever you spoke, how his cheeks would flush at the sight of your smile. He noticed how much weight your words carried with him, how the sun seemed to light up your skin in a way that drew him in. He couldn’t ignore the warmth that bloomed inside him just from seeing you.

He began to notice everything. And as much as he loved these feelings, he hated them just as much.

This was exactly what he was afraid of—this so-called "love" that threatened to unravel him. The thought of being vulnerable, of exposing that side of himself, terrified him. As his reputation as the "Emperor" grew, so did his fear of appearing weak.

His skills, his ego, and you—they had all shaped who he was and brought him to this point. He couldn’t afford to risk that. It was only natural that he didn’t want to gamble away everything he had worked for. Throwing it all away over a feeling seemed like the height of foolishness.

But was all the arguing and shared anger really worth it?

No, not at all.

…

"Y/n, is it really that hard for you to just listen to me?”

"But why…? Why now?"

The look Kaiser gave you was unfamiliar, his eyes now cold and distant. It was a side of him you had never seen before.

How did it come to this?

…

In the past few days, something had changed in him. The warmth that once lit up his face whenever he saw you had vanished, replaced by a faint scowl. The way he looked at you now—like you were just another bothersome fan—stung in a way you couldn’t understand. Sometimes he would just ignore your presence entirely, leaving you in silence.

"Y/n, I won't say it again. Please, for once, just listen and go. I don’t want to see you right now."

"But Michael! You still haven't told me why!" The desperation in your voice hung in the air, unanswered.

But It was as if Kaiser had just… snapped. Was it your endless questions? Your desperate pleas? Or maybe it was the look in your eyes each time he tried to brush you off.

"You want the truth, Y/n? Fine. Just looking at you makes me sick!"

His words hit like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. What did he mean? Had he always felt this way? If so, for how long? Were you too much for him?

A storm of thoughts swirled in your mind, each one cutting deeper than the last, as you felt the sting of tears welling up.

"Michael… what…?" you whispered, your voice trembling and barely audible.

"You make me feel sick, Y/n. Nauseous." His tone was sharp, laced with irritation, as if the very act of saying it exhausted him.

A couple of tears managed to form in your eye sockets as you quietly murmured, “Michael…but why? Why do I make you feel like this? Was it something I did..—”

Kaiser clenched his jaw, frustration and bitterness seething beneath his words. How could you be so clueless?

“Yes, Y/N, you did do something—no, you did everything!” he burst out. “Every time you smile, I can’t look away. Your stupid hair falls just right and it’s distracting. Your annoying voice—it calms me, like some kind of spell. And your eyes, the way they look at me… I feel sick because of the warmth you put in my stomach. I hate that I look forward to your presence, that you’re all I think about, that I’ve developed these feelings for you—I hate it all!” His fists tightened, a mix of embarrassment and anger rising to his face.

Your eyes widened. Was this a confession? Were these compliments or just veiled insults? What was he trying to say?

You stared at him, speechless, before managing to whisper, “Michael… you… you have feelings for me?”

Kaiser glanced away, reluctant to admit it. But there was no denying it—this was, in its own way, almost a confession.

Mind you, Almost, a confession.

"I wish I didn’t." His voice was low, almost resigned, and you couldn't help the frown that tugged at your lips. Why would he want to bury something as powerful as this? It didn’t make sense.

"Michael… " you spoke, your voice barely a whisper. "Why would you wish these feelings away? I… I could feel the same way about you, you know…"

He shook his head slowly, as if each movement was a struggle. When he spoke, his tone was firm but tinged with something that resembled sorrow. "It doesn't matter, Y/n. Even if you do, I can't accept it. I can’t accept us."

His words hit you like a cold gust of wind. "You mean… you wouldn't be able to return my feelings?" Your chest tightened as you forced out the question, though deep down, you already knew the answer.

Michael's silence was answer enough, but still, you couldn’t let it end there. "Well," you began, the words stumbling out before you could stop them, "I guess that’s just too bad because… I really do have feelings for you." Your voice wavered slightly, betraying how hard it was to admit, but the truth had taken root too deeply to be ignored.

You had begun to realize it months ago, maybe even longer. The symptoms of love crept in slowly, almost imperceptibly at first—the way his presence made you feel more alive, the longing to hear his voice even when he wasn’t around, the flutter in your chest with every small gesture. Now, standing in front of him, all those little moments coalesced into something undeniable. Yet, here you were, offering your heart to someone who refused to hold it.

You found yourself looking forward to every visit with him, craving the moments you could be near. Even though you saw each other regularly, it never felt like enough. You often caught yourself inventing excuses just to stay a little longer, clinging to each second as if it might be your last chance to be close.

Your gaze drifted toward him, hoping to catch his eye and find some sign of understanding there. But instead of meeting your gaze, he looked away, his expression guarded.

"As I said before, Y/n, I can't," he repeated, his voice steady but distant.

Frustration surged within you, a knot tightening in your chest. Why couldn’t he just explain? Why was he so determined to keep you at arm's length? "Michael, for heaven’s sake, just tell me why!" you demanded, your voice rising with a mix of irritation and desperation. "Why can’t you? We could figure this out… it doesn’t have to be this way."

You were exhausted—tired of the same vague answer, the same unyielding response. "I can’t" wasn’t good enough anymore. You needed the truth, a real reason to justify the wall he kept building between you.

Kaiser noticed the edge in your voice, and frustration flared in his eyes as he responded, his tone sharper than before. "Because I can't risk everything I’ve worked so hard for, Y/n! I’ve fought so hard to get where I am now, and I can't afford any distractions—not even love."

Distraction?

You blinked, his words hitting you like a slap. He thought this—whatever was between you—was just a distraction?

"H-huh…?" you breathed, the word barely audible as it slipped from your lips.

Kaiser tilted his head back, a bitter sigh escaping him as his jaw clenched in obvious irritation. "Did you not understand what I just said?" His voice dripped with exasperation, as though explaining himself was an exhausting chore.

You felt your brows draw together in a scowl, his words twisting in your mind. Of course, you heard him loud and clear, but all you could focus on was how cruel and dismissive he sounded. This whole "distraction" excuse felt like nothing but bullshit—a convenient shield to hide behind, rather than an honest reason.

"Is that what I am to you?" you said, your voice quivering with anger. It seems as if this was just another excuse of his.

His answer left you both hurt and furious, a bitter mix of emotions twisting inside you. Sure, you finally got the explanation you’d been pushing for, but this? This was what he had to say?

"Love… a distraction?" you echoed, your voice strained as you struggled to keep your composure. "Michael, are you serious right now?" You could barely recognize the man standing before you; this wasn’t the Michael Kaiser you thought you knew.

"Do I look like I'm making this up, Y/n?" he shot back, his tone icy and unyielding. "I can’t let anything interfere. I've worked too hard for what I have, and I won't risk losing it all just to chase after some fantasy. I can’t afford to be blinded by ‘love.’ I can’t afford to be weak. Not now." He took a step closer, his gaze piercing into yours.

You stared into those familiar blue eyes—eyes that once looked at you with warmth and admiration. Now, they were cold and hollow, carrying only frustration and something far more unsettling: emptiness. It was like staring into the eyes of a stranger, someone who had shed any trace of the person you thought you cared for.

"I want to be the best, and I can’t do that with emotions weighing me down," he said, his tone harsh and unyielding. "I need a clear path, free from distractions. Do you even realize how much I stand to lose if I let the smallest thing pull my focus? I could lose everything. I could end up weak… and that’s something I refuse to accept."

His words felt like a cold slap, each one slicing through you. "I’ve sacrificed so much just to get where I am today. So there it is, Y/n. I won’t let these emotions derail me. Not even for you."

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, a silent testament to the heartbreak squeezing your chest. Was this really it? Was he just going to leave you behind because you didn’t fit into his perfect, distraction-free life? It felt like the ground had fallen out from beneath you.

"This is bullshit, Michael," you snapped, your voice shaking with anger. "You’re just going to drop me like that? After everything? After all the times I’ve been there for you, stood by your side, supported you through every step of your soccer career—this is how you repay me? Do you even realize how messed up that is?"

Your voice rose, trembling with the frustration and betrayal burning inside you. "You can’t just cut me out because I don’t fit neatly into your plans. Do you even hear yourself right now?"

Anger flared in his eyes, and his voice rose, laced with frustration. "Yes, Y/n, I’m going to leave you! Didn’t you hear a word I just said? I can’t risk everything I’ve worked for. I’ve come too far to let ‘love’ make me weak—I’ll lose it all!"

"Why can’t you see that love won’t make you weak?" you cried out, your voice cracking with desperation.

"Tch. I already told you—it’s a distraction," he shot back, his tone cold and dismissive.

Each word felt like a dagger, piercing deeper as he repeated the same relentless argument, as if mocking the very idea of you. He was unyielding, his walls built so high that nothing you said could seem to reach him.

"So that’s it, then?" you murmured, your voice trembling as tears stung your eyes. "All of it? All of this—even me—it’s just a distraction?"

For a split second, something in his expression wavered. The guilt in his eyes betrayed him as he saw the hurt etched across your face. But just as quickly, he masked it, his pride and stubbornness locking him in place. He stayed silent, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out but refused to let himself.

The truth was, when you first told him how you felt, a spark of joy had flickered inside him—something he hadn’t felt in a long time. But now, with every pained word that left your lips, he buried that feeling deeper, forcing it down beneath the weight of his ambition. He couldn’t afford to let you see it. He couldn’t afford to let himself feel it.

It pained him to see you like this, knowing he was the cause. He never intended to hurt you like this—never imagined he’d be the one to break your heart.

Of course, his ambitions meant more to him than his "best friend." That was the cruel truth—his future outweighed everything, even you.

The silence stretched between you until you finally broke it, your voice trembling. "Is that a yes or a no, Michael? Please… just answer me."

His gaze softened at the sight of you, your face etched with desperation and pain. He truly felt bad—guilt clawed at him—but he couldn’t let it sway him. He believed this was necessary. He believed it was for the best.

"Yes," he said quietly.

The word hit you like a blow, and your head dropped, a broken breath escaping your lips. You never thought it would come to this—never imagined this was how the two of you would part ways.

Quiet sobs began to slip from you, growing louder with each passing second as tears streamed down your cheeks. Soon, the dam broke, and you were wailing into your hands, trying in vain to wipe away the endless flow of tears. Your heart ached with a hollow emptiness that spread through your chest—the same emptiness that Michael once filled, now torn wide open.

It felt as though a piece of you had been ripped away. You and Michael had been through hell and back together, always supporting and lifting each other up. Now, there was a cold, hollow place in your heart where he used to be, a void that felt unbearable.

After a moment, you forced yourself to look up, only to see him walking away, the distance between you growing with every step.

"Michael… mein Schatz… come back… please…" you whispered, your voice breaking. "I can't do this without you…" But he was already too far to hear, your pleas swallowed up by the empty space between you.

Kaiser kept his eyes on the ground, watching his own feet carry him further away. He didn’t dare look back. "Goodbye, meine Liebe…" he murmured softly, the words escaping like a breath.

a/n: so I actually kinda took my time with this so I hope its better 😐

Also I just rewatched aot, tell me why I forgot how FINE jean was in s4🤧😫 (and Levi)

ANDDD IM ROCKING WITH BLLK S2🤤

I'm going to lick his tattoos bro

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lovekawaas · 3 months ago

Text

frat party w/ college boyfr! gojo

cw: smut (MDNI), sex under the influence(consensual), mentions of drinking, p in v, pussy eating, blowjob, fingering, creampie, fem! reader, not proofread

wc: 3.2k words

a/n: i hope you all enjoy everyone's favorite munch!

you took one last look in the mirror, smacking your lips to your relfection to test out your fresh gloss. your boyfriend, satoru, surely was gonna get a kick out of this. it was halloween and your boyfriend's fraternity was known for throwing the biggest party every year. you had never gone before, not wanting to get overwhelmed by the crowd. but with your boyfriend as the president, you knew that you couldn't miss out. you only hoped that your costume was equally as wowing.

you decided on dressing up as a playboy bunny, satoru being hugh hefner of course. tight black corset bodysuit flush to your skin pushing up your breasts in just the right way. you adjust your bunny ears on your head, making sure that it sits right amongst your freshly curled hair. putting on a pair of black boots, you slide them over tights. your phone buzzes on your dorm bed behind you.

toru<3: downstairs baby

toru<3: lmk when ur heading down

your eyes do a sweep around your room to see if there's any last minute touches you need or anything you should put away. you already planned on spending the night at your boyfriend's so you tried to leave as little mess for your roommate as possible. another buzz startles you. you always knew your boyfriend to be rather impatient.

toru<3: come on pretty girl, the pregame is jus starting

9:15 PM. it's still pretty early to you but you guess that fraternities just run on a different schedule. you grab your phone to send a quick text to him so he knows you're coming down. you snag your room keys hanging on the wall next to your door and head towards the elevator.

you walk out front letting the cool night air of october wash over you. you silently curse at yourself for forgetting to bring a jacket.

"y/n! my super hot, sexy, gorgeous girlfriend!" satoru exclaims waltzing up to you with open arms. he crushes you with a warm hug rocking you back and forth as you giggle in his hold. he pulls back noticing your shivers and removes his wine velvet robe draping it over you leaving him shirtless. clad in just fitted black jeans and his sailor hat. it swallows you whole, warming you up immediately. "toru won't you be cold?". "nah don't worry. took a few shots with the boys before i walked over here. i'm warm enough". you playfully smack his chest at the admission. he looks down at you, pitch black shades sliding down his nose revealing just the slightest bit of his eyes. the piercing blues connects with your own and he smiles, "my beautiful bunny".

you check your phone when the two of you arrive at his frat house.

9:23 PM. bright lights and loud bass boom through the walls. the music is pounding and the party hasn't even started yet. quietly, you follow satoru through the halls as he leads to a room. passing by many open doors, you subtly peek in to see the varying array of party goers. princesses and vampires. boxers and angels. any kind of costume you could imagine you saw. satoru stops without notice and you bump into his back with a soft grunt. he turns to ask if you're okay but you wave him off before he can make too much of a fuss.

he leads you into a room with some other party goers. some of them you recognize, his frat brothers. you really only knew them in passing, seeing them from the times you came to the house to spend time with toru in his room or sleepover. others, you've never seen before. girls in a wide array of costumes. dallas cowboy cheerleaders, britney spears', and a...honestly you can't quite make out that last one but you shrug it off. after your quick scan of the room, you bring your attention back to toru as he grins holding two colorful plastic shot glasses up to you. you snag one and a cheeky "bottoms up m'lady" follows as you quickly pour it into your mouth. the bitter taste of the alcohol making you scunch your nose in disgust.

"ew toru what was that?"

"tequila, now come on time for your second one" and he snatches your empty shot glass, replacing it with the second one he grabbed. "you didn't take one too?" you question. "i told you pretty i started drinking beforehand" he tells you. so you down the second one without a fuss. your body feels warm all over, the liquor you ingested traveling through your bloodstream. the two shots you had turn into five. and a seltzer. and a beer. and maybe just one more shot. and satoru, ever the party animal, is downing drinks left and right. any solo cup he can get his hands has been drinken. he's shotgunning beers with his brothers. he's knealing on the dirty frat floor to let a bro pour a bottle into his mouth. you check your phone again.

10:13PM. the party has just started. the doors have barely opened to the lines of people waiting to be let in. the house slowly starts to fill up with a crowd. and you guys are fucked.

satoru has a higher tolerance than you, yes. being the seasoned drinker he is as a fraternity president, he knows how to handle his alcohol. but both of you may have taken it a little too far this time as every shout, scream, and squeal now echos in your head. your hands clammy and your vision spinning as your world circles around you. you feel flush, almost fully sweating.

at first, you thought it was all the alcohol. then, you thought maybe it was all of the people packed into the house. but feeling the slick pooling at your core, your thighs clench together realizing the warmth you feel is from something else entirely. you're horny. the heat gets to you as you remember you still have on satoru's robe. you walk over to him like a new born baby deer, boots almost weighing you down and you paw at his shoulder. he turns his attention from the conversation with his brother fully onto you. "s'toru" you hiccup. "i'm really hot. can we go to your room?".

you don't even have time to bat a lash before you're being quickly whisked away to the other side of the house. "the president's suite", a golden plaque reads dab smack above the doorframe. you know you've been in this room multiple times but right now, you're looking around for any identifying factor to ground you in this moment. the door shuts and locks behind you muffling the raging party just right outside. and you stumble back onto the bed in the center of the room. he reaches into a nearby mini fridge and grabs an ice cold bottle of water, cracking it open for you. lifting it to your lips, satoru gently holds the back of your head as you drink from it. setting it aside, satoru slides his robe off of you revealing your bunny costume underneath that had been hidden all night.

"you feelin alright baby?"

a firm hand rubs your thigh, fingers occasionally getting caught in the loops of your fishnets. satoru slurs his words too. you can tell he's really drunk. a quick gaze down to his crotch and you can see that he's hard. bulge scarily noticable. you know him well enough to know that his cock is straining against the zipper of his jeans. but he's restraining himself. making sure to care of you first. making sure that you're okay.

you get up from the bed, trying to sexily sway your ass in your costume as you walk away from him. sure, you stumble. missing a step or two as you trip over your feet boots clunking on the ground. but you're certain that the only thing your boyfriend really catches is the white fuzzy tail on your ass as it moves from side to side. stopping, you turn around to face him.

"s'toru"

he jumps up. hands quickly making their way around your waist, steadying you so you don't fall.

"yes baby"

doe eyes meet his. glossy from the intoxication. you hold his gaze.

"feelin like i wanna suck your cock"

his lips crash onto yours, one hand harshly holding the back of your head, his slim fingers tangling into your curls. other hand grabbing the fat of your ass groping and squeezing it in his hand. the kiss is messy. teeth clattering against each other, tongues fighting to find their rhythm. but it's so good. so good until satoru pulls away.

"y/n. are you sure? we both drank a lot and we can just go back outside. i don't want you to do anything you don't want to do"

even almost blackout drunk, your satoru remains to be the most kind gentleman you know. you nod feverently. but he grabs your chin stopping.

"i need words baby"

"i wanna suck your cock s'toru"

breaking away from him you drop to your knees, fiddling with the zipper of his pants. he helps you, unbuttoning the top of his jeans forcefully shoving them down for you. grabbing the waistband of his underwear, you pull them down to get to his cock. it's rock hard, twitching towards your palm when you grab it in your hand. no matter how many times you've seen it, his dick never fails to mesmerize you. it's the prettiest pink you think you've ever seen, thin but still long with slight veins running up the sides. you snap out your drunken daze realizing you've been staring when you feel a hand tangle in your hair, grabbing it and forcing you to look up.

"come on bunny, don't tease me now"

Immediately, you make haste. lips locking onto the tip letting your tongue swirl around it. you didn't even know your mouth could have this much saliva in it but maybe it's just the alcohol. "god fuck y/n, you feel so good", toru chimes in. you continue to lower your mouth down past the tip until your face hits skin and little hairs brush against your nose. up and down, up and down, over and over and over again. the saliva building until it starts to seep out the sides of your mouth. it's sloppy. you're drooling like a dog as you suck.

"jus like that baby...ah...fuck...ngh..keep going pretty keep going".

toru's slurring his words more now but you can't quite tell if its from all the drinks he's had or if your head is really just that good right now. wanting to bring him more pleasure regardless, you bring a hand to his shaft using it to pump his cock in tandem with your lips as they move. you hear a sharp inhale from above letting you know that you're doing something right. you bring your other hands to balls to fondle them. satoru can feel his abs start to tighten up. all of the sensations taking over his brain. your mouth on his penis being the only thing he can bring himself to think about not even minding the party that's happenig right outside his door.

"ahhh...ah...ah...ah...ahh..FUCK y/n i'm close. i wanna cum on your face. lemme paint that pretty face".

toru's wish is your command.

you pulls your lips off using the hand that's left to start pumping feverently. tilting your head back, opening your mouth letting your tongue loll out to the side, you pump him until he finally breaks. painting your face with milky white strands. satoru looks down at you and he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. you, on your knees before him, painted in his cum wearing a playboy bunny outfit.

he swear he feels his heart clench. but then he thinks about it again and it's probably just his dick. he drops down to his knees to meet you on the ground, gently adjusting the ears on your head so they're back in place. with no words, he takes a firm hand and grabs your chin before he's bringing it to him and licking the cum off your face. man does alcohol make you do strange things.

"jus wanna make sure my baby s'all clean"

satoru picks you up to lead you to the bed, sitting down first before placing you on his lap. he brushes the messy curls of your hair out of your face, holding you tightly to him before kissing you. it's sloppy and messy and there's spit everywhere but you're so drunk you don't even mind. his wet lips travel to kiss along your jawline to down your neck reaching further and further down. he tugs down at the top of your costume to release your breasts. slobbery lips connect to your nipples and you can't help but moan.

the soft suckles of his mouth as it latches onto you. the way that his tongue feels as it swirls. it's all just too much.

"wanna see all of my pretty bunny".

and then he's tugging the rest of your bodysuit down until it's thrown onto the floor of his room. gently laying you back against his giant bed, he takes a loop of tights beneath his finger and then yanks until the little loops snap to open up your pussy for him. "toru!" you protest.

"don't worry baby, I'll buy you new ones".

he pulls your panties to the side and begins to drool at the sight before him. your sweet cunt dripping with sweetness. all just for him. he sticks a finger inside of you, pushing it back as deep as he can. and you squeal back at him from the unexpectedness of the feeling. it isn't long before he adds a second finger, plunging it in and out of your pussy. scissoring his fingers inside of your cunt. he feels himself growing hard again at the sound of your pussy as it gushes around his long digits. satoru finds himself lost in a daze at the sight of your cunt. in his drunken state, he swears that your cunt is practically speaking to him. begging. your pussy is almost as needy as you. your sweet pleas and moans gracing his ears like the most beautiful song he's ever heard. and what kind of boyfriend would he be if he denied you what you want.

he looks almost as if he's hypnotized as he brings his lips forward and suckles your clit. his tongue circling the little bud making you arch your back at the sensation. he has no rhythm to it at all. but you don't mind. the thought of the messines and lack of coherence doesn't even cross your mind. the only thing you can even think about is his fingers plunging in you hitting your special spot and his tongue lapping up at you, slobbering all over at your taste.

you arch your back in ecstasy before you throw your head back and your vision turns white. flushing with heat all over, you feel yourself nearly pass out as you cum. you tighten up inside, squeezing up on his fingers. your chest heaves before looking back at your boyfriend and you swear you could cum again just from looking at him. his hair all disheveled, face covered in all of your juices as he just smirks back at you.

without missing a beat, satoru grabs at your hips to adjust you on his bed flipping you over onto your stomach. he pulls you up by your hips until your ass is up in the air. you hear the shuffling of his pants before ultimately hearing the fabric drop onto the floor. the party continues to bump outside of the walls around and the cool air graces your cunt as you sit there waiting before your boyfriend's voice pulls you out of your thoughts. "m gonna put it in now baby". and that's the only warning you get before he sheathes himself inside of you entirely.

you've always known satoru to be long. his dick not having much girth but always making up for it in length. it's slim and long, just like him. and no matter how many times you've had sex with him, the feeling of when he first puts it in always catches you by surprise. you let out a hard moan at the intrusion not caring if any of the party-goers outside hear of your activities. satoru pulls his hips back removing his dick almost entirely before he's slamming back into your pussy making you scream.

he fucks you with no flow as he chases another orgasm. sloppy strokes as if he was a damn virgin. but you really don't mind. you're just as fucked up as he is if not more. and right now at this moment, any pleasure is great pleasure especially with it coming from him. he's pumping in and out with all of the energy he can manage to find. he's giving you his all. the air is thick with the smell of pure hot sex. his bedroom fills with the wet sounds of his cock plunging your pussy and a mixture of both of your moans. a large hand smacks back at your ass making you shriek.

even drunk, satoru can't get enough of the way your cheeks ripple because of him. while he would normally last longer, the alcohol gets the best of him and he knows that he's close. his inconsistent thrusts get even more unstable but he would hate to leave you unsatisfied. he leans over on top of you placing his whole body weight against your back. "mmm toru m close" you whine at him from below.

a hot breath is felt on your ear and he whispers to you desperately, " m gonna cum baby, wan you to cum too".

still thrusting, he wraps an arm around you to reach in between your legs heading for your clit. he rubs and pinches at the little nub. your legs are shaking about to give out on you as feel that you’re about to cum again. and you do. you clench your eyes and your thighs letting the feeling take over. your pussy squeezing his cock is what sends toru over pumping load after load in you. he stills, taking a breath laying on top of you. the two of you are drunk, exhausted.

you rest in the moment of peace before satoru picks you up. he takes one hand to pull the covers of his bed back before delicately laying you on the sheets. he comes to follow you in bed after. his blue eyes gaze back at you before he softly grabs your cheek and pulls you into him for a sweet kiss. the gentleness of it a total one 180 from the sloppy sex the two you had just finished having.

your eyes start to close, sleep starting to take over. he adjusts the ears on your head one more time and then discards them entirely, throwing them off the bed to make sure you can sleep comfortably. pulling you into him, he holds you tight and places one last kiss on your forehead before both of you drift off.

"my beautiful bunny" is the last thing you hear before closing your eyes and fading off to sleep.

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moonshynecybin · 4 months ago

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For the promptsss: rosquez and chives (building a home together. Badly) OR daylily (parenthood: prepared for and not).

daylily: parenthood, prepared for and not

as luck would have it i already had smth like this written so i’m gonna just post that thang… this is part one of a story that i am currently like halfway-ish through atm (i made an OUTLINE…) and who knows if i ever finish it but i am certainly having fun writing a lil melodrama… i am who i am what can i say

August 3, 2020:

“What is it? My arm, there isn't nerve damage, is there? I thought the scans were good.” Marc shifts, a nervous hand cupping his elbow. He’s keeping utterly still– breathing through pain, trying to keep his head on straight.

Dr. Xavier Mir, uncharacteristically hesitant and containing an odd energy in his posture, peers at Marc. He has a clipboard in his hand, and he keeps glancing at it.

“Marc, you are– you are a carrier, yes? Honda had you tested, I can see it marked in your medical file.”

“Yes,” Marc says slowly, and Mir nods, flipping over the pages in his hand. He shifts on his feet, and a bolt of fear shoots through Marc’s stomach like a rabbit. They told him there was no nerve damage. Opening a glass sliding door cannot be the thing that gives him nerve damage.

Mir keeps going.

“Well, Marc,” He makes an odd, placating sound. “I checked the blood sample that we collected from you for your pre-operative labs, and then I had them run it again to be sure, and it seems that the sample we took from you indicates that you are, well, about four months along.”

Marc blinks.

That isn't what he expected.

“What do you mean?” He asks, slow and loud.

Dr. Mir clicks his pen, Marc guesses he doesn’t deliver this kind of news too often, which explains the tone. “I mean that you are almost certainly pregnant, by the look of things.”

“I—“ Marc gapes. He tries to make his mind work, arm burning. He’s not— he’s here for emergency surgery. Dr. Mir is already dressed in the awful, washed-out toothpaste color of his scrubs. He’s about to usher Marc into pre-op. This is about his arm, all of this should be about his arm.

“Four months? That’s not possible, they would have tested me before my last surgery, it was negative. The doctors at Honda told me, they told me that it wasn’t something I would have to worry about, that I don't have enough body fat.”

Mir nods. The ringing sound fades a bit from Marc’s ears.

“False negatives are rare, but I’m afraid to say that they’re not impossible. And if you can get pregnant, there is always a possibility for conception when having penetrative sex. Have you been experiencing any symptoms? Nausea, weight gain, fatigue—“ Mir peers at him sideways, talking briskly. The shadow of anxious feet move outside the door, Álex and Jose must be pacing. “Strong emotional responses?”

Marc stares at him. Strong emotional responses. The arm that he uses to ride motorcycles is broken. This is his second surgery on it in the space of three weeks. The plate snapped this morning, three hours ago. Brno is in six days, and he will miss it, 25 points down the drain.

“No, yeah— eh. I mean, yes.” He makes himself say.

He puts his good hand to his stomach.

Four months ago. Pre-season testing in Qatar. They hadn’t used a condom, and then the world had shut down and he’d been stuck without his motorcycle until July, the longest he’s ever gone without riding competitively since he was 12 and still in school. Lately, he’s had other stuff on his mind. He’s been rehabbing his shoulder, he’s been training for the season, he’s been doing— he’s been doing motocross.

The truth is, he hasn’t noticed anything. The last few weeks, when he supposes it should have been becoming more and more obvious (four months along obvious, Jesus Christ) he’d been focused on noticing his arm, mainly, and the bike, as well— both more delicate things than he’d anticipated, and there had certainly been some strong emotional responses.

But this is.

With Vale in March, he honestly didn’t even think it was possible with the sort of life he led, and when he was 20 and his doctors all told him he didn’t have to worry about it, he’d just assumed that was the end of it. That will probably be a funny story in about ten years.

It’s not, in the moment. In the moment it just feels mystifying, terrifying— like waking up and finding out the sky had turned purple overnight, only with an additionally fucked-up impact on his life and more importantly, on his career. He bites hard at his bottom lip. A baby.

He remembers— Vale’s hands on the small of his back, hot as a brand. Vale’s hands lower. The question, knifed out between strained breaths as he thumbed slickly at where Marc was hot and wanting: Do you have one? and then Marc gripping him tighter, swallowing around the words. No, he’d wanted to say, so he had. You should just, it’s okay, and then Vale was there.

“Fuck.” He says now, with feeling. This is crazy.

His eyes dart around the sterile white of the room. When he’d come in, he’d caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sterile little sink, and hated the way he looked. Washed out and pale, small in the bundle of his jacket, his useless arm hanging out of its sleeve, but cradled close. His eyes were drawn with pain above the material of his mask, and his shoulders were postured unevenly, warped protectively over his shoddily healed fracture. He’d thought that he looked old. He turns over the feeling. Old enough?

A baby. An actual baby.

Marc is a practical man, when he wants to be. He runs down the list.

The season is still young, and he wants to be back to win—but it’s shortened because of Covid, and with him already missing two races, he realizes, with a sinking feeling in his chest, that a ninth championship at the age of 27 is looking less and less likely.

Which means that he has an actual choice here, not just the illusion of one. The doctor, having given him a thin breath of a moment, picks up on his line of thought.

“You do have— options, Marc. We have you at around four months along.” He sighs. “The injury, if all is normal after surgery, should heal in six to eight weeks, but this is not a normal injury, it has been retraumatized, and you’ve put a lot of stress on the bone,”

You let me do that, Marc thinks but doesn’t say. It's unfair to say it out loud, he’s the one who decided to ride.

“Now, if you want, there are precautions we can take for the baby, or we can see about going another route with that. We need to decide soon, though, because I want to get you into surgery as soon as possible, and I’m sure you’re in a lot of pain.”

Marc ignores his comment about pain— pain usually goes away, eventually, and he’s good at ignoring it. In a few minutes, once he doesn’t need to think clearly, he’ll ask for painkillers that are safe. Six to eight weeks. He would be back by— god, Misano. There goes his season.

“Another route?” He croaks out.

“You are past the 14 week cutoff for an abortion in Spain, but there are a few other countries where it is less of a problem— Sweden, the Netherlands. I’m sure that I can get you in contact with some people that are, ah, discreet, once we get you through today’s procedure.”

Fabio Quartararo already has 50 points more than Marc. He considers the neat zero next to his name in the standings. What’s worse— P10 in the championship or nothing at all. What’s worse— sitting out, or, or a child.

“My arm, six to eight weeks, you said,” He confirms, and the doctor nods.

“If everything goes well.”

Including the initial break, he will have been out around eleven weeks in total by the end of the healing, but the doctors will usually give him what he wants if he looks like he can stand the pain. If he tries to come back in four weeks, instead of six— no, even then the next grand prix would be in September. It’s still half the season, no way around that, and no one can DNF for half the season and still win a title, not even him.

The baby would be six months along by September, and here by November. That would give him the full offseason to heal. A nauseous, unsteady little thrill runs up his spine.

He could be the first rider to win after giving birth.

He takes a shuddering breath. He finds, even still, that he suddenly wants to cry very badly. He doesn’t.

“But, um, this surgery— the baby will be fine?”

Mir tilts his head, like that’s not what he expected Marc to say. “There are always risks this early into pregnancy with surgery, especially after the amount of stress your body has undergone these last few weeks, but it’s not unusual. There are ways to mitigate that risk as you heal, as well.”

His brain keeps catching— back on the bike in six weeks.

His brain keeps catching— 50 points already.

If he does this, he won’t be able to ride until next season, which is undoubtedly the worst and scariest part of the whole thing. He doesn’t do well with boredom, or with waiting, and he can already feel the need bunching under his skin, that gut-wrenching want to get from wherever he is to his bike as fast as possible. Whatever can get him to the top step, he’ll do it, he’ll do it fast, and if it means pain, then well, he can bear it.

But the thing that makes him pause is, if he doesn’t do this, he might never get another chance.

And the idea of that, of losing that, is also scary— scarier than he thought it would be. There’s a part of him that thought he wouldn’t get to do this at all, and it’s reaching towards the realization of the idea with a greedy sort of hunger he hardly seems aware of. If he followed his initial plan, he wouldn’t have a family for probably another ten years, once he retired. And that is only if he finds someone to do it with. He never thought he’d get to do it now, so soon, and with— he finds that he likes the idea.

Especially not with someone that he— he makes himself stop, and a pang shoots through his stomach.

That’s a stupid, childish thought. Vale’s made himself clear, best to nip that part of the fantasy in the bud.

He reviews. 6 months off of his bike.

He reviews. 50 points already. A baby. Blue eyes and curly hair.

“Marc, I know this is sudden, and it is hard to think clearly.” No it’s not, Marc thinks, a little distantly.

“—But I also know you’re in pain, and we do need to get you into surgery, so I need to know what you want us to do.”

He looks up at Dr. Mir. He swallows. He’s never been one to avoid what scares him.

He goes with his gut.

“I’m keeping it.” He says with conviction.

And twenty minutes later they put him under to fix the plate in his arm.

#motogp #callie speaks #asks #rosquez #hi this is. plot heavy lol #my fic #prompts #the document is at 7k words rn i am scared

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boiohboii · 2 years ago

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LMAOOO THIS WITH THE LECLERC BROTHERS 😭😭

https://youtube.com/shorts/aFHKUtjI44s?feature=share

That went well? (Lando Norris x Leclerc! Reader)

N.B: this had been in my drafts for a while, I hope you like it.

WARNING: SWEAR WORDS. F WORD MULTIPLE TIMES. PREGNANCY PRANK PLOT. MENTION OF COCK AND DICKHEAD (BOTH USED AS INSULTS). MENTIONS OF HITTING / SMACKING AS AN OLDER BROTHER (I DO NOT CONDONE VIOLENCE) let me know if I missed anything!

You didn't know how they managed to convince you, honestly it was a suicide mission, but still you could see the fun in your brothers' reactions, which is why you decided that inviting your brothers and their partners over would be a good way to do the prank.

Setting everything up, you started to get extremely nervous, you didn't know what to expect, all three Leclerc males are very unpredictable even if you grew up together your whole lives.

You knew there was no going back once you heard Carla's (Aurthur's girlfriend) scream from the bathroom, where you had set up the pregnancy test in the bin- hidden but visible enough for someone who would throw something away to see.

Meeting Lando's eyes from across the table, the same thought ran through your heads- well, there's no going back now.

While Arthur rushed to see Carla, followed by Lorenzo and his girlfriend, Charles spotted your nervous expression, your bouncing leg and your nails picking at the opposite thumb tearing off the skin. It was the last action that stopped the middle Leclerc boy dead in his tract, you only did that when you think whatever you did or said was downright bad- should stay away and isolate myself bad.

"YOU FUCKING BRITISH BREADSTICK," a strong, enraged voice echoed through the entire building "I WILL MAKE YOU CHEW ON YOUR OWN COCK YOU DICKHEAD."

Now, the Leclerc brothers have heard Lorenzo cursing up a storm before, but he had always been very careful around YN, installing into Charles and Arthur that yes you can swear and joke around with such words and insults around your friends, but not around girls and most certainly not their baby, innocent sister.

Was YN scared? Yes, she had never heard her brother sound so furious. Was Lando shaking in his non existent boots? Absolutely. The young driver started to sweat as soon as he heard the loud cry of his girlfriend's oldest brother.

Flared nostrils, red face and steam coming out of his ears, Lorenzo appeared at the end of the hall looking like he had fought his way out of an amusement park's death train seat.

"YOU GOT YN PREGNANT!"

Now, it was Charles' turn to follow his older brother's footsteps, "YOU FUCKING TOOL BOX! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

"YOU WANKER!" now Landk did not expect Arthur to insult him with his own language- the British, but you can't always know what life's gonna throw at you.

Just like how he did not expect to be running around town at 7 PM trying to avoid Lorenzo's shoe that seemed to always re-appear in the eldest male's hands, along with trying to not get anymore bruises from the broken stick in Chales' hands (it broke as the older F1 racer smacked it on his back) all while trying not to question how Arthur even knows that many british insults.

"I feel like we should tell them that it's a prank." YN uttered softly, wincing as Charles has managed yet again to hit Lando, as if it was his birthday and Lando was his pinada.

"No no," Carla giggled as she watched Lorenzo's dress shoe fly across the street "this is fun."

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daddyslilchickenfingers2 · 1 year ago

Text

Kinktober (reuploaded)

Car Sex (Matt)

Request: your writing makes me go wild. would you be able to write something about the reader and matt dating , so they get like zero privacy and fuck in the car the idea has been rotting my brain i fear/Matt takes you for a late-night drive and you end up fucking in the backseat/Earned It by The Weeknd plays on aux in Matt's car. Both Matt & y/n get in the mood, proceed to fuck in the car the rest of the night/Teasing Matt while he’s driving smut

Warnings: Sex, slight overstimulation, car sex, road head, fingering, cum eating, cute fluffy little moment at the end

Matt’s pov

I love living with my brothers, I really do, but I hate that they don’t know what privacy is. Y/n, my girlfriend of 3 years, lives with us as well, me and her have the master bedroom, which is the biggest. As much as I love my brothers, I don’t love when Nick literally steals Y/n away when we’re having movie nights or cuddling. And I most definitely fucking hate it when Chris ALWAYS ruins the mood, even if we lock the door he’ll pound on it until we open it. Sometimes he’ll even come into our room at night just to sleep next to me like when we were younger, thank god Y/n loves them both as much as I do, or else shit would be awkward.

Tonight I had planned for us to go see a movie at the drive-in, I even put down the seats in the back of her SUV and put blankets and squishmallows (Y/n’s favorite) as pillows back there to make it comfy. Nick and Chris had tried to invite themselves but I wasn’t going to let them ruin another one of my dates just because they think of Y/n as a little sister. Y/n and I hadn’t seen each other all day, we were both super busy so we were really looking forward to tonight but we definitely had an unexpected change of plans. When Y/n got back from her day with Madi she took a shower and got dressed in some comfy clothes, opting to blow dry her hair because it was cold outside.

I love seeing her like this when she only wears mascara and that damn strawberry lipgloss that I love so much along with some sweatpants and a sweatshirt. God, it was my favorite look on her, especially when the sweater she’d wear was mine. I was wearing basically the same thing but I had a backwards fitted on as well. It was starting to get dark so we decided to leave, the universe however, clearly didn’t want us to go on a fucking date because when we started driving on the freeway towards the drive-in theater, it started pouring, meaning all movies were now canceled. “Fuck, man! Why can’t I just take my girlfriend out on a decent date!” I yelled, hitting the steering wheel.

Y/n’s pov

I understand why Matt got mad, but honestly, there was no reason for him to be, I was already just enjoying being alone with him right now. “Babe it’s okay, we can still go up to that one private view. And we can watch something on my Macbook, it’s still in my car from yesterday. Let’s make the most of our alone time” I told him while rubbing his arm. Matt just nodded, clearly upset that his plan got ruined by the weather, “Plus I can finally makeout with you and not have to worry about getting interrupted” I added, half-joking.

Matt still looked upset so I moved my hand onto his thigh, I saw Matt quickly glance at me but neither of us said anything. I kept my hand there while I changed the playlist to a more relaxed and vibey one, occasionally tightening my grip on his thigh. I noticed the way that simple action got to him as he slowly started to get hard. We were almost to the overlook so I decided to start teasing Matt a bit, we hadn’t been able to have sex for a while so I moved my hand to rest over his growing hard-on. “Y/n” he said in a warning tone, “Matthew” I tested back with a smirk.

I started rubbing Matt over his sweatpants as we started driving up the little mountain when Earned It by The Weeknd started playing. This song seems to always get us in the mood so I decided to slip my hand into Matt’s sweatpants, lightly squeezing and rubbing his cock over his boxers. The car stopped and the music ended as Matt threw it in park and took the keys out of the ignition. He grabbed my wrist, pulling it out of his pants, and clicked the thing to unbuckle both of our seatbelts before he grabbed my jaw turning me to face him.

“Why are you always such a fucking tease” he asked in frustration, “Because I miss being able to touch my boyfriend whenever I want. I miss your cock Matty” I whined back as a response. Matt sighed, knowing I was right and he missed that too, but still pressed a very needy kiss to my lips. “Fuck I missed this side of you! Get in the back for me princess, we’re gonna take advantage of this alone time” he smirked as he kicked off his shoes. I did the same before hoping in the back through the center console area, Matt followed right after he took off his fitted.

“Hi” he giggled “Hi Matt” I giggled back, Matt looked at me with a smirk while biting his lip as he turned on the overhead light like they do in car videos. “Stop looking at me like that, you’re making me nervous” I blushed as he scooted closer to me, “I want you to get naked for me so I can finally feel your tight pussy around my cock again” he whispered in my ear before helping me take my hoodie off. We both took our sweats off as well, as well as my panties, Matt had pushed me so my back was against the door behind the driver’s side, sitting to the right of me.

He gripped my jaw, pulling me closer and mumbling, “God, I missed this” before smashing our lips together. Matt did this one thing that makes me literally go feral, he straddles me and essentially sits on my lap. I literally find it so fucking hot when he does that, especially when he’s the dominant one. I immediately moved one hand to start palming his hard cock, moving my kisses down his jaw to his neck where I sucked multiple hickies into the skin, probably more than I should’ve.

“That’s right baby, mark me up and claim me so everyone knows I’m yours” Matt groaned before pulling my head up to makeout again. This time the makeout was rough and wet, full of clashing teeth and needy tongues. Moans were exchanged between each other’s mouths until Matt pulled away, due to me starting to jerk him off over his boxers. “Babe don’t d-do that, you’re gonna make me cum before I can even get inside of you” he mumbled before moving us to lay down. “Then take your boxers off and fuck me already, I need it so bad Matty” I whined in frustration, making him laugh as we moved so I was laying down.

“Mhm I forgot how bossy you can be, I’ve missed it but I gotta stretch you out first babe” he said while hovering over me, slipping his right hand between our bodies. He ran his fingers through my folds, “Who got you this wet baby” he teased cockily as he brought up his shiny wet fingers. “You did! You did Matt, missed your cock so much” I whined before he shoved those two fingers into my mouth, making me taste myself. “Suck” he demanded, causing me to moan around his fingers, “That’s right baby, make those fingers nice and wet for me, even though you don’t really need to” he added, smirking at me.

Once Matt deemed my fingers wet enough, he stuck them both into me, groaning at how I could barely take his two fingers. After a couple of minutes of stretching me out I had to stop him, “Matt, I think I’m stretched out enough and if you don’t stop I’m going to end up cumming on your fingers instead of your cock” I whined. “Alright” is all he replied with, taking his fingers out and putting them in his mouth “Mmm fuck, I love the way you taste” he added before pulling down his boxers.

Matt leaned down to start sucking hickies onto my boobs as he eased himself into me but I wasn’t here for slow sex. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him closer so his cock slammed into me “Shit baby, you’re so tight” he groaned. Matt started to slowly thrust into me, letting me get used to his size, “Matty please stop being gentle, need you to really fuck me!” I whimpered out. That was all Matt needed to hear before he ruthlessly started pounding into me. It’s a good thing nobody really knows about this place because if anyone came up here they’d definitely know we were having sex.

The car was shaking, windows were fogged up, and I’m sure our lewd moaning could be heard from outside of the car. I pulled Matt’s head away from my neck, where he was leaving lots of hickies to match his neck, and placed our lips together. I started sucking on Matt’s tongue and running my tongue across the roof of his mouth, two things that drive him absolutely insane. He let out a deep, throaty groan as his left arm, my favorite because of the tattoos, came up to start toying with my nipples, pinching them and rolling them between his fingers.

“Babe— FUCK- pl-please choke me! I’m so close, I just need a little bit more” I moaned as we pulled apart, one of my hands was scratching down Matt’s back while the other was tightly gripping his hair. “Yeah? Want me to choke you so you can cum for me? Gonna cum on my cock while I fill you up?” he rambled out between grunts. His left hand wrapped tightly around my throat, applying just the right amount of pressure as Matt’s thrusts got both faster and harder.

“Shit! Matt, cum with me!” I moaned right before I came hard around his cock. After a few more thrusts, Matt let out an animalistic growl as he shot his load into me. I didn’t even have time to calm down from cumming when Matt did something he’s never done before. He pulled out and immediately went down and started eating me out as both of our cum oozed out of me, he’s literally never eaten me out after cumming in me before. And as amazing as this felt I was already feeling overstimulated, considering I didn’t get to come down from my first high.

Matt’s Pov

I missed eating Y/n out so much that when we both finally came I couldn’t control myself, she hadn’t even caught her breath before I went down on her. Usually, I would have never even thought about eating Y/n out after cumming in her, I always do it before we fuck, but today I was just in the moment. It honestly might sound disgusting, but my own cum tastes pretty good, and mixed with hers it’s just 10x better. “Fuck— Matt! M-Matt, stop I’m too sen-sensitive!” Y/n moaned about me as she pulled on my hair and kept trying to wriggle away.

I was in such a daze right now that I got fed up with her continuous moving. I slapped Y/n’s thigh pretty hard, a lot harder than I intended anyway, and pulled away for a second. “Y/n, stop fucking moving! I’m finally getting to give my sexy ass girlfriend head and I’m not stopping!” I growled out. Grabbing her thighs, I held them down as I started sucking our cum out of her pussy before I started fucking it with my tongue.

Y/n pulled my hair as I was sucking on her clit, causing me to groan against her. “Mhm Matt I’m gonna cum again— FUCK!” she cried out as she came all over my face. I let her actually catch her breath and come down from her high this time while I put my boxers and sweats back on since we needed to go home soon. It was now about 2:45am and I was exhausted, “I love you so much Y/n, I missed doing this” I said right before I softly kissed her, helping her put her panties back on.

“God, that was so hot babe! I totally wasn’t expecting you to do that” she said, still in shock. I felt myself slowly starting to get hard again while I put my shirt back on, helping Y/n/n get dressed. I gave her another soft kiss before climbing back into the front, offering Y/n my hand so she could do the same before putting my hat back on. “Are you ready to go back home princess?” I asked softly, placing a short kiss on her lips with a smile. “Mmm, I dunno. I think I need another kiss” Y/n replied softly, the only sound to be heard was the pitter-patter of the rain against the SUV.

We shared a few more soft kisses, smiling into them, but I had to pull away before we started making out again. “All better?” I asked, getting a hum back as an answer before I started driving. “Hey Matty, are you still hard?” Y/n pouted, “Uhh ye-yeah, don’t worry about it though. You just looked so hot and fucked out after I ate you out that I got hard again. It’s not a problem” I nervously replied back, not wanting her to think it wasn’t good enough.

Before I knew it, Y/n had her hand in my sweats and was teasingly rubbing my cock. “Babe-“ I started but Y/n cut me off, “You’re gonna say ‘you don’t have to do that’ and I know, but I want to” she said in a dominating tone. I just stayed quiet, knowing I wouldn’t win this fight. I was at a stop light when Y/n moved to lean over the center console and pulled my dick out making my breath hitch at both her cold hand and the air. I was at a loss for words as I’ve never gotten road head before and Y/n usually isn’t this bold or dominating.

“Y/n/n, what are you doing?” I asked in a panic as she spit on my cock, spreading it and the precum across my throbbing cock. “Shut up and drive Matthew” she said before taking my tip into her mouth. Unexpectedly, she deepthroated me causing my grip on the wheel to tighten and my breathing to pick up. Y/n started to hollow out her cheeks, creating a tight suction around my cock as she moved back up to suck on the head again. She started humming around my cock causing me to whimper as I tried to maintain focus on the road, which thankfully was empty.

“You like that, don’t you Matty” she asked in a seductive voice before going back to sucking me off, “Y-Yeah, but it’s- fuck- it’s hard to focus on the road when you’re doing that” I whined back. “B-But don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop!” I added as I was getting closer to cumming. Thankfully we had just stopped at another red light, I pushed her head all the way down on my cock, causing her to gag and holding it there while I came down her throat. “Shit— So good for me baby! Fuck, just like that!” I groaned loudly as she swirled her tongue around the tip before pulling off with a pop.

Y/n swallowed my cum before tucking my, now soft, dick back into my pants. “The lights green Matty” she laughed, pulling me out of my trance, “Huh? Oh shit” I said when I realized the was, in fact, now green. The rest of the way home, we sat in a comfortable silence and held hands on the center console. When we pulled up into the driveway, I got out and rushed to the other side to open Y/n’s door. What I didn’t expect was for her to take off my hat and grab me by the collar of my shirt before kissing me in the pouring rain.

As cheesy as it sounds, it was like a scene straight out of a movie, us standing there kissing while our hair and clothes got wet, stupidly smiling into the kiss. Unfortunately, unlike the movies, we got interrupted after like 3 or 4 minutes by none other than, you guessed it! Nicolas Sturniolo, “Can you guys stop fucking making out and come inside? It’s late, you were supposed to be back hours ago!” both me and Y/n let out a groan before walking inside. “Sorry dad, we got busy” Y/n joked, “I am NOT your father, this isn’t fucking Star Wars” Nick replied dramatically. As expected, we found Chris in our room on his phone.

“Out” is all I said while rolling my eyes, “And a hello to you too Matthew” he replied sarcastically, finally looking up at us. “Why are you wet?” he asked but Y/n just grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the door. “I’m cold and want to change, get out or I’ll suck Matt’s dick again in front of you” she said shoving him out. “Again!?” both my brothers questioned, “Yeah, again! Deadass had to fuck my girlfriend in the car on a mountain because you two fuckers don’t give us any privacy!” I yelled at them slamming and locking the door. Y/n just giggled, pulling me to our closet to get changed before we laid down. Finally getting to cuddle and have the rest of the day to ourselves without any annoying distractions.

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