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ambrosiagoldfish · 5 months

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Adam x third spouse part 3 I’m begging pookie ❤️

like a time skip to when Charlie appeared and proposed the idea

Benifit of the doubt Pt.4

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Warnings: General Adam TW’s, a little bit sad for a moment but it’s ok. Gn! Reader! honestly that’s about it I think?? Wow this is the first time it’s been this short in this series.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Request Box: Open

Word Count: 4617~

A/n: So… it’s been almost 2 months… whoops. In all seriousness though I’m sorry it’s been so long. I’ve just not been in the mood to write and a lot of stuff has been happening (which is finally over) and I’m glad I could finally post this. I was also, if I’m honest, nervous to post this, cause I’m not sure if everyone’s ready for the direction of the story. But I have made it clear that I wanted to do a time skip to the show at somepoint and decided to do it now! If you enjoy this, please let me know cause I’m really nervous about (Not my words of affirmation love language coming out-) ALSO to the requester, I know you said part 3, but I used it for part 4. I got your request as I was making part 3 soooo my bad. Hope you don’t mind tho <3 this will be the last part before the angsty finale (and maybe an epilogue)

Reblogs are always appreciated!

Anyways this was NOT beta read unfortunately, I tried to get as many errors out during the writing process so hopefully it’s fine. Also, there’s probably some words I might have wanted to italicize or make bold that aren’t, but I’m too tired to care honestly.

Tags: @tired-of-life-86 @nervoussystemss @qopia @lovelyemily @hcneyiced @v3r41ynn @ghostdoodlen @nxptvne-13 @ximenavc-che @edgyfluff @ericityyy @diffidentphantom @faimmm @slasher-whore69 @1-randomized @ozzersauce @fanlovedlt @alientee (if I forgot someone or you want to be added just tell me !!)

Days turned to weeks, to months, to years. Until eventually an eon had passed. An entirety filled to the brim with an indescribable happiness and love, threatening to spill over at any given moment. You loved Adam and Adam loved you.

To say it was all happiness would be a lie, there were some moments of sadness and pain, but all relationships were like that, even ones that lasted for eternity. You both always bounced back, apologize and moved on with a stronger bond than before. And you loved every second of it.

A lot has changed in these last few eons. Adam formed a band and is now the most popular guitarist in all of heaven. You both made new friends, some got into heaven while others were made there. Emily was one of these people to you, she looked up to you for being older than her. You’ve existed for almost all of human existence so, of course she’d look up to you.

Adam had also made new friends, his band members, some officials in heaven, but someone he’s grown close to recently was Lute. You're really happy about his friendship with Lute. She seems like a strong and loyal friend, someone that can keep him grounded while still encouraging him to be more himself. Overall, you really liked her.

How they became friends though is something… less tasteful for you. All the way back when Heaven and Hell had their first meeting on what to do with the surplus of sinners in hell causing an uprising. Neither side came to an agreement in the end, you do feel partially to blame for that, but you still stand by what you did.

You never returned to any of the follow up meetings

But Adam did, surprisingly to you. In the end, you were called to talk with Sera and Adam. You were told of the agreement between Heaven and Hell, about the yearly “cleanse” that Adam and his “Exorcists” would have to commit. At first you were shocked, sure, you didn’t have the best experience with sinners and especially with the rulers of hell, but was death really necessary? You didn’t know what to say, and Adam clearly saw this.

“Babe, you alright?” He puts his hand on your shoulder rubbing his thumb in circles. You place your hand on his.

“Yeah it’s just a lot to take in. Are we sure it has to be done… that way?”

Sera looked down in pain “they’re… uprising and are becoming to much of a threat to heaven.”

You sighed as Adam took you in his arms. Adam was fully aware that you don’t share the same sentiment towards sinners as he does. His hatred towards the unholy souls down in hell was brought about by events that you simply cannot understand. Which he is thankful for, he never would want you to experience what he did.

“If there isn’t anything else we can do then… I guess we have no choice. But I don’t want to… kill anyone, even if they are sinners.”

Adam holds you closer “You won’t have to,” you smile at him, the now familiar flickering of his LED mask meeting your gaze before softly frown “you ok?”

You nod, “yeah, just…I wish there was another way.”

That was it. Adam would take his exorcists down to hell to kill as many sinners as they could each year. Adam knew you didn’t want him to talk about it , he kept it as separate as he could from your life. You did have to attend meetings regarding it, as one of the very few people to know about it, that was your duty.

You were fine with having that part of the job. You weren't sure if you could kill someone, sinner or not. So, for the countless years to follow, you played your part with every new extermination, attending meetings to deal with the repercussions of each cleanse.

Adam would also have to attend the occasional meeting. Which is exactly what today was. Sera had called you both in to talk.

“Thank you both for coming. I have to inform you that you will be attending a meeting tomorrow.”

Adam groaned “What! Again? This is like the 4th fuckin’ one this week! Ugh fine! Where is it this time? halo city? Cherub towne” Adam’s voice mocked the locations you’ve both been sent to countless times with a high pitched voice. Even you have to admit that the meetings could drag a bit.

Sera's face turned into a slight grimace as she looks away from you both, she sighs and continues “The meeting will be in… hell.”

“What!” Both your voices raise in shock

“Sera, you know I don’t want to go down there again!”

“Why can’t you just send the other fucking dipshits who know about-“ Adam crossed his arms defiantly

“Stop,” Sera raises her hand toward you both “no one wants to go there, and I know you both especially don’t.” She pauses “But you both are the only available angels who know of the cleanse that aren't busy. Please… I understand your disdain but heaven’s business comes first.”

“Who are we even gonna be talking to -Wait a damn minute- Don’t fucking tell me we have to talk to him.”

“I'm sorry…” You all sat in silence for a moment before Sera begins to speak again, “But you both won’t have to worry about physically being there, we have prepared holograms for you, so neither of you would be in any danger.”

“I'll have an Angel escort you to the ‘meeting’ room tomorrow, please, get some rest. I’m sure you both have had a long day.”

With that, you and Adam went home, you were definitely not feeling well about the meeting, but the fact you wouldn’t actually be there calms your nerves a bit. You had to be a little honest with yourself, hell wasn’t really the issue for you, it was more so the people. Lucifer for one, that made you feel uneasy.

The next morning, you and Adam got ready, you had to motivate him a little. He was clearly not excited for this meeting like you. The entire way there he held you close, even though nothing could have hurt you it made him feel better knowing how close you were.

On the way there, you also got Adam some ribs, his favorite. You thought it would help his nerves a bit. Turns out, Lute was the one Sera assigned to escort you both there. That also made you both a little calmer knowing a mutual friend would be there.

The three of you waited in the ‘meeting’ room for a while, about an hour. At first you thought the meeting might had been canceled or moved and you just weren't told. But then, Lute walked up to you both.

“Sir! The Seraphim has told me to inform you that there’s been a change in plans!”

“What? The fucks that mean?” Adam said stuffing a rib into his LED mouth

“Lucifer won’t be attending the meeting, instead… his Daughter will be here in his stead.” Lute’s mask showed a continuous frown and stern expression as she spoke.

“Daughter?” Your voice shook a little. This was news to you, as long as you’ve existed you had never heard he had a daughter while in hell. You look over to Adam to see His LED eyes were wide in shock but his mask turned into a smile as he sighed.

“Phew boy, we sure dodged a big ass bullet, huh Sweetcheeks?” He laughed as his arm pulled you closer. The whole thing caused you to join in. Suddenly your nerves felt a lot better than before.

“When should she be arriving, Lute?”

“Within the hour.”

Adam scarfed down another plate of ribs as you all wait for the “princess of hell” to arrive. The entire time you just had to wonder what kind of person she’d be. The daughter of Lucifer and Lilith. The more you thought about it, the more bizarre it seemed.

But suddenly your thoughts were interrupted by the sliding doors opening to the meeting room and a girl steps in, asking if anyone is there.

“She can’t see us?”

“Yeah, Sera gave me a long ass lector on how this stuff works before we got here. Let’s see here…” Adam pushes a button causing a click to sound out as he says “Sup!”

The girl jumps back and falls to the floor, shocked by Adam’s sudden appearance in the room. She introduces herself as Charlie. Adam offers her to shake his hand, only for it to go through.

“Ha! I fuckin’ got you! Did you fucking see that? Good shit.”

You let out a slight laugh, as you sit and watch the meeting happen. Well, you say “meeting” but nothing about it seemed very professional. Adam for the last hour (you honestly wasn’t sure at this point) had been talking about the most random of things.

You or Lute occasionally shakening your head yes or no while listening to him, while Charlie seemed quite tired already. Not that you could blame her, people who weren’t used to Adam’s banter definitely weren’t cut out for it. But You love every word that comes out of his mouth.

Eventually Adam decides that it’s time to get into what you all came here for. Pulling out a bunch of papers, Charlie begins explaining her solution to hell’s overpopulation. You were only really half listening at first, at least before she mentioned that her solution could stop the extermination which peaked your interest.

She explains her “Hazbin Hotel” and its purpose to rehabilitate sinners, you wanted to hear more of it but Adam cut her off.

The meeting didn’t really go that well, At least for Charlie. But the whole thing left quite the impression on you. The idea of ending the extermination was stuck in your head for so long, and now you had someone who had an alternative.

“Adam, are you sure that it couldn’t have worked?”

Adam looks at you in surprise “What? Do you think that shitshow could have actually worked?” He laughed as he placed a hand on your back. “Don’t even pay it any mind, alright Babe?”

“I know, it’s just… you know I don't like the extermination. So another way to lessen the population of hell should at least be looked into.” Your voice was soft enough to barely hear.

Adam’s gaze softened but he didn’t say another word, only wrapping his wing around you pulling you closer. You lean towards him, snuggling into his soft robe. No matter how much you wanted to ignore it, you couldn’t. You needed to do something, anything.

So that night, after Adam fell asleep, you asked to talk with Sera. Leaving a note for Adam saying you went to buy something just in case he woke up.

“What is troubling you?” Sera’s voice was clear and concise.

You looked toward the ground, your nerves feeling tighter than ever, as you struggled with how to put your words together. “You're aware of all that happened in the meeting with Lucifer’s Daughter, right?”

Sera nods her head “of course, all meetings are documented about as they happen.” She tilts her head slightly “What about it?”

“Well!” You steel yourself before continuing “I would like permission to observe Charlie Morningstar’s ‘Hazbin Hotel’”

Sera’s eyes widen, breaking her calm demeanor before giving a firm “No”

“But-“

“It’s too dangerous for you to be there, Adam wouldn’t want that anyways”

“He would listen if it was an order from you!” Your eyes felt watery but you continued “Please Sera… I know you don’t want the extermination to continue. Just let me do this!”

Sera looked away from you, her feelings evident on her face, any mask now down. ‘Just a little more’ you thought

“Sera, I promise you, I’ll be careful! We don’t even have to fully support them yet, just let me observe them. It would be devastating if so many souls parish if we failed to seek all options!” You beg

Sera sighed, shakingly “…I’ll see what I can do.”

Your eyes gleamed up at the tall woman “Sera, thank you, thank you!” You wanted to hug her but out of courtesy, you advised against it.

Sera tells you that she can’t guarantee anything but she will try as she sends you home to rest.

A few days past after that and you haven’t heard anything from Sera. It was a little worrying and felt like a bad sign to you. That was, until you were informed by Sera that your request was accepted!

“But.” Sera stops you before you can celebrate “You're only there to keep track of the progress and to make sure nothing is happening under our noses” You nod your head in understanding

“Also…” she pauses “If anything involving this hotel happens, you will have to take full responsibility, understood?”

You nod again “yes I understand. Have you… told Adam yet?”

She shakes her head

“Ok… can you… not tell him it was my idea, please. I don’t think he’d agree if he knew.”

Sera sighs before nodding her head “Very well, I’ll tell him after you leave”

“Thank you.”

You return home, when you got back Adam was already gone, Sera must have already called him to the office. You dreaded when he got back. You didn’t want to see him upset, it hurt you to know how worried he was for you.

A few hours later, Adam comes through the door in a panic. He stomps up to you and pulls you into a warm and intense embrace.

“Don’t go down there. I need you here with me” his voice hitches as his wings wrap around you both, curling you both into a warm and feathery ball.

“Adam…” you paused, was this really the best thing to do? No, It had to be. If this goes well, not only will the extermination stop but Adam wouldn’t have to go down to hell ever again.

“Adam, you know I can’t go against Sera’s orders.” You kiss his cheek “and I won’t be gone forever, I’m only supposed to be there till the next cleanse. Not to mention, I’ll always come back to see you.”

Adam grumbled a little “I know, I just… don’t like you being in the same place that bastard is, and in his brat’s stupid hotel! ”

You laugh softly “Adam…” grabbing his hand, you put yours in it, showing off the gold ring on your finger “I’ll never forget my promise. You know that, right?”

Adam looks at the ring, the gold wrapped around your finger with a perfectly snug fit. Everytime he looked at it was just a reminder of your love for him. That promise was something he could never forget. He slowly raises your hand to his LED mask, kissing the back of it. “Of course not.”

“Good. I promise I’ll be fine, ok?”

He nods. Hand in hand, you slowly lead you both to the bed. The both of you lay next to each other, your bodies linked together like knots. You slwoly remove his helmet from his head, laying it on the nightstand.

Your hands move up his body before landing on his face, cupping his cheeks before pulling him to a kiss before snuggling into his chest.

Finally it was Time for you to leave. Sera allowed you to create portals back to heaven in case anything happened and you were in need of assistance. Adam walked you to the front gate.

“Ok, do you have everything? You didn’t forget that fucking angelic dagger I had Lute get for you right-“

You shush him “Adam, I told you I’ll be fine!”

He’s sighs “Damn it- I know that but just make sure to text me while your there ok-

You kiss him deeply “Adam. I know, you’ve told me a hundred times.” You smile as you cup his face “I love you”

He sighs “Love you too Sweetcheeks”

With one final kiss, you give Adam a tight hug before waving goodbye as you went through the flaming portal. As you went through, you take a second to look at your surroundings. In front of you was a tall building. You take a few steps back to see LED lights of a sign flashing the words ‘Hazbin Hotel’

You let out a sigh of relief. You had been a tad bit worried you’d spawn somewhere random and you’d have to find the building yourself. But it seems heaven at least spared you of that.

The red skies of hell were quite different from the pristine blue ones of heaven. Even though you just got here, you could already hear the sounds of screams and explosions in the distance. How welcoming.

You steel yourself and with three hard knocks to the door, you wait for someone to open it. Muffled Scurrying sounds of footsteps approach the door before it creaks open revealing the young blond woman in the doorframe, Charlie Morningstar.

“Hi! I’m-“

The door is slammed shut, Before opening again

“Be not afraid-“

It shuts again…

Well, this may be a bit harder than you initially anticipated. You go to knock again only for it to open once more. This time, the door doesn’t close again, instead the girl mutters a quick “Hi” before going quiet.

“Hello! I didn’t mean to scare you!” You give a small laugh before continuing “I believe we met a couple days ago?” You bring your hand towards her for a shake, to which she reciprocates.

“During the meeting with.. Adam? Right?” She grimaced when she mentioned Adam, which you decided to ignore, you simply smiled and nodded. ”but I don’t believe I caught your name?”

You tell her about yourself, about how your there to stay and monitor any progress the hotel may have. You made sure to pronounce ‘may.’ While you were hoping for this idea to show some kind of positive results, even you weren’t sure if it’d would work.

“Charlie? who’s at the door- WhatHolyShit-“ a woman with a red X over her eye suddenly shouts in surprise. You look over at her, She looked very familiar…

“Wait, you are-“

“Vaggie! Charlie’s sinner girlfriend! And you are?!” The woman known as Vaggie, highlighted the word sinner while performing a “be quiet” gesture with her hand. Your eyes widen a little at the ex-Angel in front of you but you simply smile a nod “I’m Y/n, I don’t believe we’ve met, yes?”

Look, lying is the last thing you’d want to do as a citizen of heaven but you figured that it would be fine if it was to protect someone. Vaggie nodded, her face scrunched up in a tense look.

“You feeling ok Vaggie? You’re looking a little… red?”

“I’m fine! *ahem*, Hun, how about you give them a tour of the hotel.”

Charlie gasped “Yes that's perfect, you may as well get acquainted with everyone if you’re going to be here more often!”

Charlie ran off, telling you “this way! This way!” Over and over. Before you went to follow her, you leaned toward Vaggie and said a quick “Relax, I won’t tell anyone.”

She lets out a sigh before muttering “Thank you”

You both follow Charlie as she shows you the various rooms in the hotel before leading you back to the hotel’s lobby and lounge area.

“Hey! Hello everyone!” Charlie’s voice picked up a little “I’d like to introduce you to our uh… new staff member?” You nod in agreement with the title. The room in front of you was shrouded in looks of both horror and amazement.

“What the hell’s an angel doin’ here?” A lanky spider demon spoke up first

“It’sss an ambush! seek Cover!!” The Snake demon shouted, seemingly grabbing an army helmet from thin air before taking a deep dive behind the couch.

“No Pentious-” She sighs “they’re here to monitor the hotel! Heaven sent them to scout any potential progress the hotel will have”

“It’s nice to meet you all” you look at the people in front of you, to say it was a colorful cast would be an understatement.

“These two are our current tenants of the hotel! Angel dust and Sir Pentious!”

The snake slithered slowly from behind the couch up to you, while the Spider demon remained rested on the couch

“Oh… *ahem* Excuse me dear! I am Sir. Pentious! Formally known as ‘the Architect of destruction’!” He laughs, a slight hiss sounding in his voice.

He offers a handshake which you accept. To which you immediately regret. ‘ Slimey’ you thought, before wiping your, now wet hand on your clothes.

The spider demon, who you now know as Angel Dust, just gives a wave with one of his 4 arms.

“And-“ Charlie extends the word as she quickly walk to a bar by the entrance “this is the recreational area, run by our Bartender, Husk!”

The winged bartender seemed entirely uninterested in your presence or even Charlie’s. The most you got was a small glance before he takes a swig of his alcohol and walks off.

“He’s not the most… social guy in hell” she awkwardly laughs before moving on to the next person. “And this is Nifty, our one and only maid at the hotel! Nifty say hi.”

The short woman scurried moved around you, her eye quickly looking at every every nook and cranny of you as she moved. She made numerous attempts to touch and grab various things on you, your clothes, wings, and eventually she tried to climb up you to get to your halo. That’s when you finally grabbed her in place “you're a… fast one, huh? Nice to meet you!”

“And last but not least! This is Alastor, the hotel’s executive producer and our first -and only- overlord sponsor!”

Immediately, you could tell there was something off about Alastor. The entire aura he gave off was as if he was restraining something completely and utterly ungodly. The static that surrounded him was just one of many whispers you could hear from his soul.

“Hello! It’s quite a pleasure to meet someone of your… holy status!” He offers a hand to which you, hesitantly, shake. “And what do we owe the pleasure for your service?”

“They’re going to be here to keep track of the progress of the hotel…” Charlie paused “you know I’m starting to sound like a broken record- here, it’s late, how about we all get some sleep and we can talk about it in the morning!”

“Fine by me, I am waaay too sober to be having social interaction this late” Angel picks himself up and stretches “I’m gonna hit the hay”

“Here I’ll show you to your room!” Charlie smiles “We -obviously- didn’t have time to make your own so I hope you don’t mind using one of the guest rooms” she laughs

She and Vaggie walks you to your new room before leaving you be, The room was nothing more than just your average hotel room. Of course it did have its differences, a multitude of… eyes seem to be on the wall, staring at you. Well, that’s not the least alarming.

You place your stuff down and begin unpacking, you mostly just brought the basics. Clothes, hygiene stuff, your phone, and, most importantly, a framed photo of Adam.

You sat the photo on your nightstand, angling it just right so that it would always be visible to you. As you do so, you think about the memory the photo brings, you took it on one of the first dates you went on with Adam. It was a relatively tame date, you and Adam, having a picnic by a lake at night. You brought candles so you both weren’t completely in the dark, and you just loved the way he looked, his golden eyes watching the water. The dim candle light illuminating his face with a warm golden shade. Adam hates photos of him with his mask off but… You just had to keep that moment in time forever.

*Ding* *Ding* *Ding*

Speak of the- well, you know the rest. The bright light from the phone comes with the notification sound displaying Adam in bold letters. You smile as you read his messages.

Dixkmaster69

Heyy Sweetcheeks, it’s been a bit since you left

You there??

Fucking answer

You let out a small laugh at Adam’s barrage of messages. He’s not used to you being away from him for more than a day, huh? Not that you could blame him, this is honestly nothing compared to how you feel each year he has to do the extermination.

Sweetcheeks

Hey love

Everything’s fine, I’m ok.

Aside from not having you with me :’(

Dixkmaster69

Fucking finally

You know you don’t have to do this

If I bitch enough to Sera I can get you back by tomorrow

Sweetcheeks

Please don’t, Sera already has enough on her plate.

I promise I’m going to be fine

I’ll be back before you know it.

Dixkmaster69

I know

This shit just worries me

Gonna miss hearing your sexy ass voice at night too ;)

You blush at the message before sighing. Whenever you or Adam approached a topic that made him uncomfortable, he would always try to change the subject to something that made him feel better. You knew why, Adam’s someone who rarely talked about his feelings, even after all these eons together that was something he hadn’t changed. You knew exactly what he needed, even if he didn’t explicitly tell you.

Sweetcheeks

I already miss yours too <3

Do you want to help me fall asleep with that heavenly voice of yours on the phone?

Dixkmaster69

Whatever you want Sweetcheeks <3

You smile when, almost immediately, Adam begins calling your phone. You click the lights off before You make your way in your new bed, not even bothering to change out of the clothes you’ve been wearing. You grab the cover and pull it over you and tapping the answer button.

“Sup”

You yawn “Hey handsome, I missed your voice”

You hear his voice hitch before he caused on “Of course you did, no one has a better voice than the dick master. But uh, yours is a close second”

You’re let out a tired giggle, “such a charmer, you. How’s your day been huh?”

“Oh! don’t even get me started on that- Lute took me to get some ribs to ‘calm my nerves’ or some shit and they had me, ME, wait in line for like 15 minutes! The fucking audacity!”

You smile to yourself as Adam tells you about his day, the sound of his voice was like a sweet lullaby to your ears and you couldn’t get enough of it. But eventually…

“And then when I got home, I couldn’t find my damn charger and it took me like 40 fuckin’ minutes to realize it was under our bed, do you have any idea of how it keeps getting there?” He waits for you to respond only to be met with silence. “Uh bitch, I’m talking to you.”

More silence… well no, actually if Adam focused on listening, he could hear the faint sound of your snoring from the phone. Adam sighs,”Long day, huh?”

Adam lays back in your shared bed, getting comfortable. He sets the phone beside him, plugging it in while keeping it on speaker. He yawns, “Goodnight Sweetheart, can’t wait to see you again”

Slowly, the soft sounds of both yours and Adam’s snores filled each others rooms, a distant, but intimate connection. Even in slumber, you couldn’t stop thinking of your handsome and caring soulmate.

947 notes · View notes

a-lexia11 · 28 days

Text

Twins

Alessia russo x reader

Words count: around 2k

Warning:none

Summary : You and your twin sister Valentina play a prank on your girlfriend, Alessia, by switching places to see if Alessia can tell you apart.

As I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my shirt, I couldn’t help but smile at the reflection of my twin sister, Valentina, lounging on my bed, scrolling through her phone. It was a typical Saturday morning, the kind where everything felt calm, relaxed, and just a little bit mischievous.

Valentina and I had always been close, and our bond as twins often led to playful antics and pranks that kept our lives interesting.

“You know, Y/N,” Valentina suddenly said, her voice laced with amusement, “I’ve been thinking… Do you really think Alessia would be able to tell the difference between us?”

I turned away from the mirror to look at her, raising an eyebrow. “Of course she would. We’ve been dating for two years now. She knows me better than anyone.”

Valentina smirked, clearly not convinced. “Are you sure? I mean, we are identical twins. We’ve fooled plenty of people before.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing. “Maybe other people, but not Alessia. She’d definitely recognize me.”

Valentina sat up, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “How about we put that to the test? Let’s see if Alessia can really tell us apart.”

I crossed my arms, intrigued. “And how do you propose we do that?”

She grinned, already formulating a plan. “We’ll switch places, just for fun. I’ll pretend to be you, and you can hang back and watch. Let’s see how long it takes for her to figure it out.”

I hesitated for a moment, but the idea of playing a harmless prank on Alessia was too tempting to resist. “Alright, you’re on. But I’m telling you, she’ll know right away.”

Valentina chuckled. “We’ll see about that.”

***

Later that afternoon, Valentina and I put our plan into action. Alessia was due to come over to my apartment around 2 p.m , so we had some time to prepare. We decided to keep things simple, Valentina would dress like me, act like me, and see how Alessia reacted.

Meanwhile, I would hide in my room, listening in on the whole interaction. It was going to be a harmless bit of fun, or so I thought.

By the time 2 p.m. rolled around, Valentina was dressed in one of my favorite hoodies (Alessia’s hoodies) and jeans, her hair styled just like mine. If I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn I was looking at a mirror.

“You ready?” I asked, trying to suppress a grin.

Valentina nodded, confidently striding toward the living room. “Ready as ever. Let’s see if your girlfriend is as perceptive as you think.”

I ducked into my bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar so I could hear everything that happened.

My heart raced with excitement, eager to see how Alessia would react. Surely, she’d figure it out right away—there was no way she wouldn’t recognize her own girlfriend.

A few minutes later, I heard the sound of the front door unlocking, followed by Alessia’s familiar voice calling out, “Y/N? I’m here!”

Valentina, in her best impersonation of me, responded, “Hey, baby! I’m in the living room!”

I held my breath as I listened to Alessia’s footsteps approaching. My mind was already racing, imagining the moment Alessia would stop, tilt her head in confusion, and say, “Wait a minute… you’re not Y/N!”

But that moment never came.

Instead, I heard Alessia greet “me” with a cheerful, “Hey, my love!” followed by the unmistakable sound of a kiss on the cheek.

What?! I nearly gasped out loud but managed to keep quiet. Alessia didn’t notice anything off? How could that be possible?

Maybe she was just being polite, giving Valentina the benefit of the doubt for a few seconds before figuring it out. That had to be it.

But then, to my utter disbelief, I heard Alessia settle onto the couch with Valentina, chatting casually as if nothing was amiss.

They talked about the usual things—how Alessia’s day had been, what movie they should watch tonight, and even made plans for dinner. All the while, Alessia didn’t show a single hint of suspicion.

I paced around my bedroom, growing more anxious with each passing minute. How could Alessia not recognize that it was Valentina sitting beside her and not me? I mean, sure, we looked alike, but Alessia knew me inside and out.

She knew my habits, my quirks, the little details that made me, well, me. Was it possible that Valentina was actually pulling this off?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to know if Alessia had really been fooled or if she was just playing along.

I quietly stepped out of my bedroom and into the hallway, peeking into the living room where Valentina and Alessia were sitting.

To my shock, they were still chatting and laughing as if nothing was wrong. Alessia seemed completely at ease, her arm casually draped over Valentina’s shoulders. It was surreal watching my girlfriend interact so comfortably with my twin, as if I didn’t even exist.

Then, just as I was about to step back into the bedroom, Alessia did something that made my heart skip a beat.

She gently cupped Valentina’s cheek and leaned in, seemingly aiming for a kiss on the lips. Valentina’s eyes widened in shock, and she swiftly turned her head, causing Alessia’s lips to land unexpectedly on Valentina’s cheek instead.

I froze, stunned. Was Alessia genuinely fooled?

Unable to stay hidden any longer, I stepped into the living room, trying to keep my voice steady. “Hey, what’s going on here?”

Both Alessia and Valentina turned to look at me, and for a split second, Alessia’s eyes widened in surprise. But then, to my utter confusion, she burst out laughing.

“Oh, you should have seen your face!” Alessia exclaimed, her laughter filling the room. “You actually thought I didn’t recognize Valentina?”

Wait. What?

I blinked, completely thrown off by her response. “You… you knew?”

Alessia grinned, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Of course I knew. The moment I walked in, I could tell it wasn’t you. You might look alike, but you don’t feel the same.”

I stared at her, speechless, as Valentina broke into a fit of giggles beside her. “You mean… this was all a joke?”

Alessia nodded, still chuckling. “Yeah, I figured you two were up to something, so I decided to play along. I wanted to see how far you’d take it.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. All this time, I had been the one getting pranked. I stood there for a moment, processing everything before I finally burst into laughter myself.

The whole situation was so absurd, and yet, it was exactly the kind of thing that made me love Alessia even more.

“You got us good,” I admitted, shaking my head in disbelief. “I really thought you couldn’t tell us apart.”

Alessia stood up and crossed the room to pull me into a warm hug. “Are you kidding? I’d know you anywhere, Y/N.”

Her words sent a wave of relief and warmth through me, and I couldn’t help but smile as I wrapped my arms around her. “You really had me going there for a minute.”

She pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, her voice filled with affection. “I’m sorry if I worried you. But come on, did you really think I wouldn’t recognize the love of my life?”

I looked up at her, feeling a mix of love and embarrassment. “I guess I underestimated you.”

Alessia and I both laughed, and I felt the tension from earlier melt away completely.

“Alright, you two troublemakers,” Alessia said, grinning at us. “What do you say we call it even and just enjoy the rest of the day?”

“Deal,” I said with a smile and Alessia leaning down to kiss me gently on the lips. It was a sweet, lingering kiss that made my heart swell with happiness.

Valentina pretended to gag at our display of affection, but I could see the smile tugging at her lips. “Okay, lovebirds, let’s just watch a movie already.”

We all settled onto the couch, this time with me firmly in Alessia’s arms, feeling content and more in love than ever.

The prank may not have gone exactly as planned, but in the end, it had only reminded me of how well Alessia knew me and how lucky I was to have her.

As we watched the movie, I couldn’t help but steal glances at Alessia, my heart full of gratitude for her playful spirit and unwavering love.

As the credits rolled, Alessia looked down at me and smiled. “So, what’s the next prank?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Oh no, I think I’ve had enough, no more twins pranks”

“And just so you know, if you ever try to kiss my twin sister, even as a joke, you'll find yourself single.”

FIN

#woso community #woso #woso soccer #woso appreciation #woso x reader #women’s football #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagines #woso one shot #alessia russo #awfc x reader #awfc

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charmedreincarnation · 5 months

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Dream life before the EOTS challenge

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Hello beautiful people! I totally get it- as the end of the school year approaches, I understand there's this huge push to finally tap into our dream lives before the beginning of the next school year. But here’s the thing, I don’t want you all to get too caught up in the timing. Instead, I’m excited to share with you a mix of my favorite techniques that can truly help you tap into your dream life, as we should!

Consistency is going to be your best friend here, and naturally, feel free to adjust these to better suit your preferences. I’ve got this strong feeling that this challenge is going to be particularly impactful for those who thrive on methodical approaches and have been searching for their calling for some time now. the journey to your dream life isn’t about rushing or meeting arbitrary deadlines. It’s about finding what resonates with you, applying it with dedication, and allowing your things to unfold in its own way. Use this for anything… your dream life, shifting, the void state, it does not matter ! Just Remember, the journey to your dream life isn’t about rushing or meeting arbitrary deadlines, please be kind and patient with yourself !

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What we will be using this challenge

1.I am 100% sure technique

2.living in the end

3.reverse psychology techniques

4.Questions technique x SATs

5.optional* lucid dreaming

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1.This is inspired by @gorgeouslypink ‘s challenge but…

Every morning, as soon as you wake up, either say or write or think "I am sure that I will [insert desire]. Anytime you think of your desire, think or repeat that affirmation to yourself as a reminder. You don’t have to do it a billion times. Once is enough and move on with your life. Another tip is, one of my first shifts was by using the 5 sense method while listening to music. Affirming while listening to your favorite song or sound is basically a hack to get you into your desired state.The key is to do it while listening to a song that makes you feel euphoric and in the morning to revise your mind while it’s in theta state ! Just during those times !!! don’t parrot affirmations if it stresses you out

2. You should be "living in the end" in whatever way inspires you. I encourage you all to create your vision boards on Pinterest if you're a visual person, and really immerse yourself in the joy of knowing this is your life. Those are your pictures.

If you're more of a writer, script your success story that you'll send to me, or write a thank you note to your favorite blogger. In the draft, mention how you used this technique along with whatever else you're doing. Write with the conviction that it's real.

For those aspiring to be YouTubers, film a mock video. If you envision yourself becoming a TikToker, start drafting video ideas. And if your dream is to be an actor, do practice runs of your favorite script, if you’re going to be an entrepreneur, draft your business ideas and proposals and draw inspo from your favorite successful entrepreneurs!

Guys, fulfilling yourself and living in the end should be fun! Embrace your inner child, remember how easy it was to believe in Santa Claus even when you were with your mom buying gifts. To become famous like the kids on Disney, all you had to do was desire it and practice making the Disney sign with a wand. Let's bring that love back to manifesting.

3.If you're someone who likes vaunting or affirmations, instead of just parroting affirmations, use the reverse psychology method! Talk about how tired you are of succeeding, how you want to wake up in your CR not your DR, how you're tired of waking up in the void, how lucid dreaming every night by accident ruins your sleep schedule, etc. Do some of the vaunting in front of a mirror, I don’t know theosucholgy about it but vaunting with convections in front of mirror looking straight into my own eyes always brought me results in days.

4. Before bed, think about what you want, imagine being there, and start asking yourself creative questions. Really picture yourself in that situation and take part in it as you answer. One at a time, slowly, we'll get into each question by thinking up answers and feeling like we're really there.

The whole point is to immerse ourselves in the reality of this state as we paint the portrait. Ask yourself whatever questions, then imagine that scene. It doesn’t matter if you do 40 or just 1. Ask yourself what it’s like to enter the void state every night and have a scene of you living your dream life doing whatever you want. Ask yourself what it’s like to be a girl who shifts reality while people fight over resources in the 3D, and imagine yourself in your WR (Waiting ROOM) or DR (Desired Reality) living your dream life. Ask yourself what it’s like being someone who is wealthy in the top 0.001% and imagine a scene of buying expensive things, checking your bank account, and making lunch with finer ingredients. Again, it should be fun; it doesn’t matter how specific or vague the questions are, how long or short the scene is, whether it’s one scene or 100 scenes. Fulfill yourself in SATS (State Akin to Sleep). Whether we do this before a nap, after you wake up, or before you go to bed, it does not matter. Pair this with a nice Subliminal with good music if you desire

5.Combine this with anything from my lucid dreaming guide that resonates with you, or just assume you’ll have a lucid dream and read all the ways you can shift/manifest/or enter the void through in my LD guide!

I know how busy everyone is; this shouldn't take a lot of time, nor should it feel pressuring or like a task. We all deserve our dream life and, most importantly, we all deserve to feel fulfilled as we embody the people we truly are. During this challenge, be kind to yourself, remember why you’re doing this and who it’s for—it's for you. Be persistent and have patience, not just to be a good follower of the law but to be good to yourself! We all can do it; I know it.

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #void state #reality shifting #lucid dreaming #SoundCloud

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queenofterrasen418 · 2 months

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Cruel Fates (Part 3)

Pairing: Azriel x f!Reader, little Eris x f!Reader

Summary: Azriel is your mate but only you know it. You are very aware that he has eyes for someone else and thus you decide not to hide it forever. After all, what could go wrong right?

Warnings: Angst, again.

3.1K words

A/N: Thank you @vanserrasimp for your ideas!!!

Part 1 | Part 2

“Do you want some more water?” Feyre asked softly, her brows knitted with concern. You shook your head slowly, your gaze lost in the shadows of Rhys’s study, overwhelmed by the storm of thoughts in your mind.

“What happened, Y/N?” Rhys’s voice was gentle, but his eyes were intense, probing. They sat across from you like worried parents, and you sighed, lifting your eyes to meet theirs. Slowly, you recounted the meeting with Eris.

“Beron and a human queen?” Feyre repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“He spoke true. I saw their correspondences with my own eyes,” you replied, the memory still fresh and unsettling.

“So he wants to join forces with us so he can rule,” Rhys mused, the wheels already turning in his mind.

“And he proposed a marriage alliance between us.” You finished his sentence.

Their eyes widened, and Rhys gestured for you to continue.

“He said our powers together would be formidable and the alliance would be very convenient. I told him I’d consider it.”

“Are you insane?” Feyre frowned, disbelief colouring her tone. “Why would you even think about it?”

“Because he had a point,” you answered, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “It would benefit both courts, and before you question his sincerity, let me assure you, he was.”

You turned to Rhys, searching for his reaction. He simply asked, “What did Azriel say?”

“That’s where things got messy,” you admitted, recounting Azriel’s outburst and Eris’s proposal. When Azriel brought up the mating bond, it made you snap.

Rhys’s brow furrowed as you spoke, a knowing look passing between you.

Feyre noticed his reaction and asked, “What am I missing?”

He shrugged in an ‘ask her’ manner.

“Azriel is my mate.”

“WHAT!?” Feyre’s eyes widened in shock.

“I’ve known for a few months. I didn’t want to tell him, considering everything with his love life.”

“And now she downright denied that she has a mate,” Rhys concluded, shaking his head slightly.

Feyre buried her head in her palms for a few moments before looking back at you with a mix of disbelief and sympathy. “You lied to him.”

“I didn’t plan to,” you said, frustration lacing your words. “I’m not sure what came over me.” Even as you tried to defend your actions, you knew you had messed up.

Rhys, who had been silent, suddenly perked up. “He knows!”

“Huh?” Blood drained from your face.

“He brought up the mating bond and was against even the idea of a marriage with Eris. He knows you're his mate.”

“He said he cares because I’m important to you, and he hates Eris on a normal day, let alone when he asked for my hand.”

“Fine, but how will you argue with him bringing up the bond point?” Rhys pressed.

“I don’t know. Maybe he assumed I’d have a mate too, considering the rest of my sisters do?”

Rhys thought about it for a while and shook his head. “I still feel like he’s aware of his mating bond, too. He probably didn’t tell you yet.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “I have legitimate reasons for not telling him. What does he have?”

“And what are those reasons exactly?” Feyre inquired curiously.

“One, he is in love with Elain, and she is also in love with him. Everyone knows that. Second, the mating bond is forever. It is permanent and painful. I have seen people fall in love easily and fall out just as easily. If ‘love’ can’t get through a mortal lifespan, how can it withstand an immortal one? Accepting the mating bond will only lead to pain, one way or the other.”

Feyre’s eyes narrowed while Rhys’s were filled with pity. You knew your views on love were not popular. You weren’t a pessimist, just someone who saw the world as it was. You wanted to believe in love so badly, but your past had taught you better. Rejecting the mating bond was far less painful than getting rejected.

After a few beats of silence, Feyre spoke in a haunted whisper, “I truly am sorry for you, sister. Whatever pain you’re trying to avoid will come no matter what. But when it does, don’t blame the bond. Blame yourself.”

Azriel

To say Azriel was confused was an understatement. He had never really understood Y/N, not that he'd ever made much of an effort to, but now he desperately wished he had. He had always thought of her as smart and careful, but not reckless. A child would know Eris was bad news. What was she thinking when she said she’d consider his proposal? Azriel was not a male to lose his temper, but she made him go feral. Ever since Y/N winnowed out of that room, her words constantly echoed in his mind. She asked him why he cared, and he did not know. He simply did, right? And what did she mean by “I don’t have a mate”? Did she just assume she didn’t, or did her mate die? Why was Y/N so furious at him?

He needed answers, and he knew who had them: Rhys. Which is exactly why he stood in front of his high lord on the balcony of the River House.

“Ask her, Az,” was the only response he got from him.

“Uh, why didn’t I think of that? Maybe because she asked me to stay out of her life?” Azriel said in a dry tone.

Rhys sighed. “It’s not my story to tell, assuming there is a story.”

“There is.”

“Then ask Y/N.” Rhys shrugged. “Or don’t.”

The spymaster could not remember when was the last time he was this crazed out. He was well aware of how unreasonable his reaction to this whole show was, but he couldn’t help himself when he asked, “How could you let her marry Eris?”

Rhys gave him a pointed look, his eyebrows raised. “One, she hasn’t decided yet, and two, no one lets Y/N do anything, let alone me.”

Azriel shook his head, at himself for his poor wording and at Y/N for her poor decision-making.

“She’s new to all this. Maybe she doesn’t know how Eris is.”

“She says Eris spoke true, and I believe her. Even a mind reader can be fooled when you practice enough, but you can’t fool her powers. Nothing escapes her, Az.”

True, very, very, very true. Azriel knew it, and yet he couldn’t accept it.

It was when his brother asked, “Why are you so bothered by it?” that he realized he didn’t fucking know.

Why was he bothered by it? Why did he care? Why?

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t.”

“Hmm.”

“What does that mean?” His eyes narrowed at his high lord.

“Nothing. Just speak with her? Maybe you’ll know.” Cauldron, he wished it was that easy. Y/N was a mystery to him, a stranger. It didn’t feel right to ask her. He wished he knew her well like Rhys and Cass do. The only thing he knew was that she was powerful and dangerous.

“She might kill me.”

Rhys laughed at that. “Then give her some time.”

A whisper of a shadow brushed his ear. But you also know she is loved, how your family cherishes her.

Y/N

You walked through the corridors of the River House, your mind a whirlwind of confusion after your conversation with Rhys and Feyre. Your decision to keep your bond with Azriel a secret weighed heavily on you, but the thought of facing him—and the inevitable pain it would bring—was even more daunting. And then there was Eris. He occupied your thoughts equally, but you welcomed it; he was a very pleasant distraction, but the thought of Azriel interfered there too. Why was he so against Eris? Was Rhys right? Did he know about the bond? As your head swarmed with even more questions, you decided you needed some quiet, some space, a moment to breathe and process everything, away from bonds, decisions, and the pressure of court politics.

As you turned a corner, you heard soft voices coming from the garden. Curiosity got the better of you, and you slowed your pace, your footsteps quiet on the stone floor like a wraith. Peering through the open archway, you saw Azriel and Elain standing amidst the blooming roses, their figures bathed in the golden glow of the afternoon sun.

Wonderful, you thought to yourself, this is exactly what I needed right now.

You knew you had to get out of there; witnessing whatever was going on between them was a terrible idea, but you found your feet stubbornly rooted to the ground.

Azriel's back was to you, his wings slightly drooped as he spoke to Elain. You couldn't make out their words at first, but the tender expression on Elain's face and the way she gently touched his arm spoke volumes. A pang of something sharp and bitter twisted in your chest, a feeling you couldn't quite name or rather refused to, but you recognized it all the same.

Azriel looked at Elain like she was the sun, the light to his shadows, his eyes filled with an emotion that you deep down wished was directed at you, to feel the warmth and certainty of it. But another part of you recoiled, reminding yourself of the pain that love could bring, the scars it could leave behind.

Thanks to your fae ears, Elain's voice carried over the breeze, soft and melodic. "Azriel, you deserve to be happy. To find someone who truly sees you."

Azriel nodded, a faint, wistful smile touching his lips. "I thought...maybe I could be that person for you, Elain. Maybe we could be right for each other."

Your heart clenched at his admission. Leave, Y/N, leave, your brain urged, but you didn’t. Despite everything, it was clear that Azriel's heart leaned toward Elain, and he was still chasing the idea of love he believed they could have. Yet, as you watched, you noticed something in Elain's eyes—sympathy. She seemed to understand Azriel's confusion.

Elain gave him a gentle smile, her eyes kind yet firm. "Azriel, you've been a wonderful friend. But you need to be honest with yourself about what you truly want."

He nodded, though his expression remained troubled. "I just want to do what's right. I pined for Mor, but that was just a wishful dream, and then you came. All signs pointed to you. I just want to be with someone who fits."

Apparently, that was enough pain for your heart, so finally, you took a step back, your heart heavy with the realization of Azriel’s struggle to find where he belonged, to understand the love he craved. But the sight of him seeking comfort in Elain's presence confirmed your doubts. It was enough to solidify your resolve. He was searching for something in Elain that he yearned for, and it looked like he found it, and it hurt you more than you wanted to admit.

You had to protect yourself. You couldn't risk exposing the bond, not when Azriel's heart was clearly elsewhere. The risk of rejection, of enduring the inevitable heartbreak, was too great. It was certain; it was no longer just a possibility.

You retreated down the corridor, determination settling in your chest like a cold, hard stone. You would accept Eris's proposal. It was the logical choice—the safe choice. An alliance with Eris would protect your heart and the Night Court. And if it meant denying the bond you felt with Azriel, so be it. This was not the first time the bond was denied, and it wouldn’t be the last. At least this way, you would be spared the pain of seeing Azriel look at Elain with love that wasn't meant for you.

Your footsteps echoed in the quiet halls as you made your way to your chambers. Each step felt heavier than the last, burdened with the weight of your decision. You had a choice to finalize and preparations to make. The path ahead was clear. It was time you started to face destiny on your terms.

Reaching your chambers, you closed the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself against the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. You had always been strong and always made the difficult choices. This was no different. You would marry Eris, forge the alliance that would protect Prythian, and bury the bond deep within yourself, where it could no longer hurt you.

As you stood there, alone in the dim light of your room, you allowed yourself one moment of vulnerability. A single tear slipped down your cheek, which you quickly wiped away as you squared your shoulders. Determined, you sat at your desk and reached for a parchment and quill.

Dear Prince Eris,

I hope this letter finds you well. After giving it a lot of thought, I’ve come to a decision about your proposal. Let’s discuss it further at the Midnight Solstice Ball in the Hewn City. It’ll be a good chance for us to talk privately and to discuss more about our deal. I’ll give you my answer then, but I think you’ll find it worth the wait. Until that time, I trust you’ll keep this between us.

Looking forward to seeing you,

Y/N

Azriel

The conversation with Rhys replayed in Azriel's mind as he made his way through the corridors of the River House, the sound of his footsteps a dull echo. Why are you so bothered by it? Rhys's question had struck a chord within him, and Azriel found himself restless and searching for answers he couldn't quite grasp. He needed clarity—needed to understand what was happening between him and Y/N.

As he reached the garden, he saw Elain among the blooming roses, her presence as serene as the morning sun. Azriel hesitated at the threshold, a familiar mix of comfort and uncertainty settling in his chest. Elain was his friend, someone he could confide in without fear of judgment, and yet a part of him wondered if she could help him understand Y/N's behaviour.

"Azriel?" Elain's voice was gentle as she turned to him, a welcoming smile on her lips. "What brings you here?"

He approached her slowly, the scent of roses mingling with the crisp morning air. "I needed someone to talk to," he admitted, his voice rough with the weight of unspoken thoughts. "I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," she replied, gesturing for him to sit beside her on the garden bench. "What's on your mind?"

Azriel sat down, his wings folding neatly behind him as he stared at the vibrant flowers. He struggled to find the right words, unsure of how much to reveal. "It's about Y/N," he finally said, glancing at Elain to gauge her reaction.

Elain's expression softened with understanding. "I heard there's been some tension," she said. "Is everything alright between you two?"

He shook his head, frustration creeping into his voice. "I wish I knew. She... she makes it difficult to understand her. I thought I knew her, but now I'm not so sure." He paused for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts, “I...I don’t understand her,” his voice strained. “She told me she doesn’t have a mate, but that’s not true, i gathered that much from Rhys. And then there’s Eris. She’s considering marrying him, and I don’t know why it bothers me so much.”

Elain’s gaze softened, and she reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Azriel, Y/N is a complicated person. She’s been through a lot. Maybe she’s scared.”

“Scared of what?” he asked, his frustration evident. “I just want to understand her, to know why she’s doing this.”

Elain sighed, looking thoughtful. “Sometimes, people lie about things because they think it’s the only way to protect themselves. Maybe she’s afraid of the bond, of what it means.”

Azriel clenched his fists, trying to suppress the anger and confusion roiling inside him. “But why would she lie to me? Why not just tell me the truth?”

Elain shook her head. “It’s not always that simple, Azriel. Bonds are...intense. They can be overwhelming. Maybe she’s trying to herself from getting hurt.”

“I feel like I’m missing something, like an important piece in a puzzle.”, he confessed.

Elain turned to him and offered one of those healing smiles, “Time will tell, Az. You shouldn't worry yourself too much.”

He nodded, right now he just needed to wait.

A few minutes passed as they both sat in silence, taking in the beautiful garden.

He turned to her, taking in her gentle presence. There was a time when he had believed she might be the one to fill the void in his heart, but now he questioned everything he had assumed. "Elain, I've been thinking," he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Elain gave him an encouraging smile, her eyes filled with understanding. "What is it, Azriel?"

“I have been searching for love for a very long time but I never felt like I deserved it.” He admitted to her.

Elain’s eyes furrowed as she placed a comforting hand on his arm, "Azriel, you deserve to be happy. To find someone who truly sees you."

Azriel nodded, and a sorrowful smile graced his lips. "I thought...maybe I could be that person for you, Elain. Maybe we could be right for each other."

Elain sighed softly as she spoke, "Azriel, you've been a wonderful friend. But you need to be honest with yourself about what you truly want."

He nodded, as he searched for words, "I just want to do what's right. I pined for Mor, but that was just a wishful dream, and then you came. All signs pointed to you. I just want to be with someone who fits."

Elain remained silent as she listened to him, “But I think I made you seem like something you are not, you are one of my closest confidantes but I thought or rather hoped we’d be more. I was desperate to have something that my brothers had, so much so that, I was sure you were my answer.” he paused, "I wanted to be the person for you, Elain. I thought that the cauldron was mistaken, but now I see that I've been chasing something that isn't meant to be."

"But I've realized," Azriel continued, "that while we share something special, it's not the kind of love I thought I was looking for. We're better as friends, aren't we?"

Elain nodded, her smile warm and understanding. "I think so too. We have a bond, Azriel, but it's different from what you have with Y/N."

He let out a soft chuckle, the sound tinged with relief. "I suppose I've been chasing shadows, hoping to find the light in the wrong places."

Elain nodded, understanding in her eyes. "It's okay to want love, Azriel. But maybe you need to look beyond the obvious, beyond what's easy."

Taglist: @sidthedollface2, @a-courtof-azriel, @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog, @acourtofsmutandstarlight, @katherinejess , @landofpetrichor , @isa1b2h3 , @anuttellaa , @cherryinsalemverse , @i-am-infinite , @myromanempiree , @sheblogs , @impossibelle , @fuckthatfeeling , @lilah-asteria , @rinpoststhings , @rcarbo1 , @t0uch-starved-h0e , @olive-main , @crossfandomslut , @melmo567 , @crazylokonugget , @sinfully-yoursss , @oucereeng , @annedub , @evangeline-xo , @sspookz , @thecraziestcrayon , @tele86 , @mal-adaptive-dreams , @mybestfriendmademe , @hannzoaks , @x1305 , @whyshouldihaveanam3 , @smutslut05, @theravenphoenix26 , @moonlwghts , @noisyinfluencerstrawberry , @saltedcoffeescotch , @laughterafter, @lazypostfandomer , @weekendlusting , @feiwelinchen

Let me know if you want to get added to the list or if I missed someone!

#azriel x reader #eris vanserra x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel #azriel/reader #azriel x you #acotar #rhysand #eris vanserra #eris x reader #azriel angst #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger

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lauraneedstochill · 1 year

Text

Confess the longing you are dreaming of

summary: Aemond thinks the woman he has to marry is the most impudent and unsufferable he’s ever met. He’s also never wanted anyone so badly. pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Martell!reader (third person, no mention of Y/N) warnings: bantering and teasing, mentions of unpleasant sexual experience, praise kink (guess who’s got it), a dollop of softness, mild smut (... for starters ;) author’s note: couldn’t get the idea out of my head and spent a few sleepless nights writing this. I imagine her brothers as Pedro Pascal and Oscar Isaac ✨ words: ~8000 song inspo: Hozier — Better love

>>> Aemond isn’t present when the idea is voiced the first time — he has a hunch that his grandsire is to blame for that. No doubt, Otto was the one to plan it out, come up with arguments served with his persuasive tone. He’s always loved to make arrangements and strike deals, each one of them to play into his hands, and Aemond hates the thought of being just another pawn of his.

He is blindsided at the breakfast but it’s made sound carelessly mundane — as Otto puts down his cup, he throws him the proposal, the way one would leniently throw alms to the poor. And Aemond thinks he must’ve heard him wrong.

“Marry me to... Who?” the prince asks, hardly covering his surprise.

His grandsire directs his gaze at him, the old man’s mouth twitching into a condescending smile. Since Otto isn’t keen on idle talk, he tells him plainly:

“You’ve long been of age, Aemond, you know that,” his knife scratches the plate as he cuts the meat, his eyes not moving from the prince. “House Martell holds power, and we’ll be fortunate to have such allies. Besides,” he pauses to take a bite, and Aemond gets annoyed at waiting; Otto chews, then adds, “I’ve only heard good things about your bride-to-be. Wouldn’t you confirm, Ser Criston?”

The mention of the knight is unexpected to them both — Aemond turns his head to meet Ser Criston’s puzzled look. But the brunet effortlessly copes with his emotions:

“We met when she was just a kid. But I knew she’d grow into a fine lady,” he easily agrees. Mayhaps, too easily for Aemond’s liking so he makes a note to talk about it later on.

His grandsire only lets out a pleased hum. “Well, I’m under the impression she will make a good match for our prince,” and Aemond feels that Otto carefully picks each word, “She’s said to be both beautiful and smart, and known for being quite independent,” he’s usually so stingy with his praise, it’s worth its weight in gold.

But that is not what Aemond hears. The choice was made for him, and his rejection of it makes him paint a portrait less alluring — a pompous wayward woman raised in the traditions that are starkly different from his; and yet, it is expected of him to accept it freely. His wounded ego simmers at the thought.

“I’d add another word to that,” Aegon chimes in, half-drunk already, “Everyone knows the Martells to also be promisc—”

“Look who’s talking,” Otto glares at him, and Aegon shuts his mouth.

The word is left unsaid, only the meaning of it isn’t hard to guess, and Aemond feels embarrassment creeping up his cheeks and weighting down his chest. He deems himself an educated man, well-read and eager to put his knowledge to the test, but he has yet to learn of carnal pleasures. A memory is clawing out: him, ten-and-three and plied with wine, laid on a bed that smelled of sweat, a naked woman next to him. Despite her tireless attempts, he wanted none of it, and the repulsion made him sick — and then it made him hate the act itself.

He did go to the brothel through the years, tried watching, touching, looked at bodies of all sorts, only it felt like putting paint over a rotten wall. He felt constrained, and lacking in some way (perhaps, in many), and more so awfully incomplete. Not once he sensed a spark, a pleasure he would crave, and no amount of effort could help him fill the emptiness inside.

He quells the feeling, pushes in indifference instead, and glances briefly at his mother. She meets his eye but only grants him a faint smile, her own gaze lacking any protest.

“Her brothers wrote that they would visit in a fortnight,” Alicent peacefully explains. “It is our duty to ensure a royal welcome.”

“Brothers?” Helaena blithely chirps. “How many does she have?”

“Four but only two of them are coming,” Otto tells her softly, then looks at Aemond, adding in a voice more wily. “I am convinced they really want to see whom their dear sister is about to marry.”

He doesn’t spell it out but the implication can’t be clearer — Aemond must play the part and make a good impression. As if impressing just one stranger wasn’t tedious enough.

As if he isn’t vexed already by how unsuitable he finds her.

>>> Frustration grows in Aemond with each day, takes roots, and clogs up all his thoughts. Some other man would’ve been glad — he often heard that the Martells are quite the lovers. He can’t admit it to himself how much he’s bothered by his own misfortunes on the love field.

He bottles his emotions up and doesn’t utter any word of discontent, nor does he ever speak of the awaited visit. Although he makes just one exception.

“My grandsire mentioned that you knew her,” he reminds Ser Criston one day after training.

The knight nods. “I crossed paths with Quentyn, he’s the oldest. She used to come to watch us train.”

“What was she like?” Aemond carefully wonders.

Ser Criston ponders for a minute, polishing his sword. “She was a quiet little girl, kept to herself. A lot of boys were always chasing after her, and she paid them all no mind,” he smiles at the memory. “But I remember one of them who was... particularly pesky. His charms didn’t work on her so he got offended, rude, followed her around. She tolerated him for over a month. One morning, he was hassling her in the training yard, and she just took a spear laying nearby — and smacked him with no warning,” he shakes his head but it’s apparent that he isn’t judging. “She didn’t use the pointy end but she got him good. And then she told him that next time he would think twice about his actions. She was impressive for a ten-year-old,” he muses and puts the sword away, then turns to Aemond, giving him a wistful stare. “Frankly, I think that you will like her.”

He does, for just a second, as his mind rushes to paint the image of a fearless little girl; and then he mercilessly wipes that image off. Maybe in other circumstances, he could’ve found amusement in that story, but Aemond only huffs and thinks back to the list of all her traits he prematurely made up. He adds “rebellious” to that list, and his self-doubt is a venom that clouds his judgment. He’s in no rush to find a cure.

>>> Their ship arrives a few hours earlier than planned — and after the dock watchers break the news, the bustle begins. Maids, servants, guards all run and faff about the castle, the dining hall gets filled with smells and noises, plates and dishes clanking.

Aemond is not excited in the slightest.

He dresses up reluctantly, each piece of clothes only dampening his mood that’s been already sour for the past two weeks. He all but drags his feet into the dining hall and by the time he reaches it, he looks so grim that one may think the prince’s preparing for his death, no less.

The minutes fly too quickly for his liking — they barely have time to sit, his mother nervously toying with the tablecloth already, and then the guards rush to announce the guests. Surprisingly, she’s not among them. The prince thinks he should be relieved; deep down, there is a splash of worry fizzling in him.

Her brothers walk in calmly in a cloud of servants bearing gifts. Their kinship is immediately clear — both tall, broad-shouldered, and dark-haired, self-confidence subsisting in their every step. The oldest is distinguished by a touch of gray in his short beard, his gaze more focused, a slight smile plastered on his face. The other one shamelessly stares at every maid his eyes can catch.

“Your grace, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” Quentyn reaches their table first, and Alicent walks down to greet them. He keeps his distance and his smile, his tone is measured. “We were so sad to learn that the King has fallen sick. But I can tell the Kingdom is in great hands. And —”

“Women’s hands do have a healing touch,” Oberyn smoothly interrupts, his accent a bit thicker, his voice honeyed. “I will prefer a Queen over a King at any given day. Unless, of course, your husband can compete with you in beauty... I somehow doubt that.”

A shade of disapproval grazes Quentyn’s face but Alicent is too amazed to notice. The compliment may come off as blunt but she still takes it well, her smile embarrassed yet sincere.

“I hope you will enjoy your stay,” she tells them humbly, then looks over the crowd. “But may I ask where is the lady we’ve been waiting for?”

“She made a stop on our way to catch up with an old friend,” Quentyn answers, ready to explain, “It’s been years since we’ve met Ser —”

“Still can’t believe he is the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,” Oberyn chuckles. “I think it’s all the armor that makes it look like he poses a threat. But you may reconsider if you see him in the nude.”

This time, the older brother glares at him with warning, and there’s a lull in their conversation, while Aemond’s struggling to hear what made his mother’s cheeks so red, his mind nervously preoccupied with someone else —

her laughter enters first.

It’s bright and joyful, a sound so lovely it might be enough to crack up his restraint. But then he spots her, and it feels like his whole body flares up at the sight.

She’s walking with her hand under Ser Criston’s arm, and Aemond’s never seen a dress that covers so much but hides so little. It’s muted orange, floor-length, made of sumptuous silk, with two long slits along the sides, curves of her thighs beguilingly seen through. Her neck and arms aren’t covered, and the material is intricately stitched around her waist to show a few more glimpses of her sun-kissed skin. The waves of her long hair fall on her shoulders and frame her face, each feature of it striking but her lips stand out the most — full, plump, and reddish. Not once before Aemond found the thought of being kissed so tempting.

She doesn’t even turn her head to look at him. She’s talking to Ser Criston quietly, and he’s engaged in conversation, unusually relaxed. Their difference in age is obvious, and the knight seems like just another relative of hers, but an uneasy feeling still leaves a bite on Aemond’s chest. He can’t imagine her so carefree — so beaming and compliant — by his side. His jealousy tastes bitter like a stale wine.

He hears his brother let out a short laugh. “It’s not like they were fucking,” Aegon carelessly notes. “Please ease your outrage before she runs away.”

“I don’t remember asking for advice,” Aemond snarls.

“You do look like you need it,” the blond comments, then goes back to drinking.

She gracefully approaches them, her voice melodic like a murmur of a river. “Forgive me, your grace, for being late, I haven’t seen Ser Criston in some time,” she tells his mother. “He was once a dear friend of mine.”

“I only helped to shush away a few of your admirers,” the knight cackles, earning a smile from her.

“I hope you are making use of all his talents,” she says to the Queen, making her face flush right away.

She delicately moves on to another topic. “It is a pleasure to have you here, you must be tired from taking such a long trip.”

“We found it quite enjoyable,” Quentyn remarks politely. “The beautiful sights along the way are worth the journey, and your city has some great views too.”

“Can’t say I’ve heard great things about your food,” Oberyn grins. “Hence why we took the liberty to bring some of our own,” he signals to the nearest servant, who runs to open one of the trunks they carried. “The dornish fruits are also my sister’s weak spot.”

“As if you don’t gorge yourself on them!” she jests, letting go of Ser Criston’s arm at last. “My brother is a glutton, your grace, please excuse his manners in advance.”

“You can call me Alicent,” his mother corrects her warmly. “Only seems fair to continue this discussion at the table,” she slightly moves away to let the girl go first.

Aemond unintentionally stiffens and only when he stands up from his chair to greet her, she finally does look at him. In contrast to her countenance, her gaze is dark and piercing, and the prince is staggered by how unreadable it is. Her brothers glance at Aemond briefly — Quentyn is pensive, while Oberyn looks like he wants to bite his head off; neither says a word.

She’s seated to his right, and she leaves behind a trail of scent — apples and plums, and he can’t help but catch the movement of her hips under the flowing dress. The words all mash and fall apart, and he can’t pick a single one to strike up a conversation.

Aegon is sitting next to her, and his patience only lasts a minute. “Never knew Ser Criston was such a ladies' man.”

“I’m sure he succeeded on that front but we are merely good friends,” she answers calmly, keeping her eyes on servants bringing fruits — blood oranges and pomegranates, robust grapes, and ripened cherries.

“You two seemed more than friendly,” Aegon presses, his tone evidently taunting.

She picks a golden apricot and runs her thumb over its fragrant surface. “Maybe it’s the wine that makes you see things,” she rebuts and takes a bite out of the fruit, a drop of juice risking to escape her mouth but she wipes it swiftly with her finger. She catches Aemond looking, and his cheeks heat up.

“We’ve never seen him in the company of a woman,” the older prince points out, filling up his cup once more.

She takes out the kernel and eats up the fruit, her mouth glistens. “Aren’t the knights of the Kingsguard forbidden to marry?”

“Never stopped them from bedding whoever they like,” Aegon remarks crudely, and Aemond is thankful that their mother is too preoccupied with Oberyn’s tireless chatting.

“Maybe some men have the decency to follow orders,” she responds, unbothered, taking a cherry and clasping it with her lips. Aegon doesn’t seem to notice and only gulps the wine and rolls his eyes. Aemond can’t look away.

“Aren’t you Martells known for not following the rules? I thought unruly was in your house’s motto,” Aegon argues, a corner of his mouth curled in a smirk.

She takes another cherry, the third in a row, her lips already stained with juice. “I think you keep getting your facts wrong,” she brushes him off, and Aegon goes to object some more but spills the wine right on his shirt. The displeased cry brings Aemond out of his trance.

“He tends to do that when he’s drunk,” the one-eyed prince coolly interjects.

Her eyes flicker to him, then she fully turns her head. “So you can actually talk,” her teasing comes off soft but her gaze still burns. “It’s good to know.”

“You seemed preoccupied with someone else,” he musters an excuse.

“Do you expect your wife to never speak to other men?” her voice almost betrays her disenchantment.

“No,” Aemond quickly answers, caught unawares by how strained his thinking process is. “She— you are free to choose your friends, of course.”

“I’m flattered,” her tone suggesting otherwise, “Not that I would ask for anyone’s approval,” she reaches for a plum; he closes his eye with a sigh.

Aegon comes to stand in between them on the pretext of needing another carafe of wine: “I didn’t mean to interrupt your friendly bickering, please continue.”

“It seems like Aemond isn’t in the mood for talking,” she doesn’t look at him, the tip of her tongue darting to lick her finger. “And I am never in the mood for begging.”

“My brother’s hospitality leaves much to be desired,” Aegon takes a sip. “So I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer,” his hand falls on her chair. “But if you ever wish to be... well satisfied, all you have to do is ask me”.

It’s hard to tell if Aegon’s actually that drunk or merely provoking (or if he’s got a death wish, Aemond wonders).

She replies without much thought. “Well, if I ever find myself in need of...,” she trails off with a smile but her gaze gets harsh — her words then follow, “My choice won’t fall on you,” the smirk falls off Aegon’s face, and she glances straight at Aemond, adding, “I like them taller.”

But her straightforwardness is met with his resistance, with the deep-rooted unacceptance of his lurking needs. He adds “indecent” to the list, and they speak no more.

>>> Her boldness doesn’t pose a problem to anyone but him. To his surprise (or more so to his shock), his mother gives in first.

The morning can’t come fast enough for Aemond after he spends the night tossing and turning. A few hours later he rushes to the garden for a walk, overwhelmed by restlessness his training didn’t help him cope with. That’s when he sees it — a spot of yellow shining through the trees. He somehow knows it’s her without further confirmation but still, his feet carry him on.

Her dress is vivid like a field of marigolds, her hair plaited, wrists adorned with golden bracelets. He slackens pace and peers into her — and he wants nothing more than to drink her up, her whole appearance is the sweetest nectar... Until he hears another sound and realizes she is not alone, and it’s his mother sitting by her side, wrapped in her favorite green and, unexpectedly, in glee. He can’t remember when he saw her laugh like this — out loud, giggling, tears at the corners of her eyes are not from sadness but from joy.

“My dear, that is so improper! Did he apologize at least?” Alicent inquires with a smile.

“Oberyn rarely does,” she tells her serenely. “His lover looked way more ashamed. I hope each of your rooms has locks, gods know I don’t want to walk in on him again.”

Unlike his mother who is covered by the shade of trees, she’s bathing in the sun, the soft light caressing her skin, and Aemond’s eye greedily follows every ray. In barely a minute he feels warm all over.

“I hope that Aemond’s chambers got locks too,” she adds all of a sudden, a bit louder, and his chest is splashed with cold.

His eye moves to her face, and she’s already looking at him, direct and daring. He knows he’s hidden by the trees but there’s no hiding from her gaze.

Aemond turns away and steps back in haste, his abashment mixed with grievance at her implication. He believes someone like her would never lust for him, and her jokes at his expense not only hurt but prompt his resentment to grow stronger. He adds “deceptive” to the portrait of her he is so adamantly set on painting.

>>> She wins Helaena’s heart with ease. His sister fondly compliments her brooch — a little poppy made out of gold — and she gifts it to Helaena the same day. The silver-haired princess grabs at chance to show her own collection, and they spend the day looking through the jewels spread over the floor, sitting right there and equally amused.

And that’s how Aemond finds them. He only planned to see his nephews but hearing her voice coming from Helaena’s chambers makes him slow his step.

“... And this one he gave me for my latest name day,” Helaena babbles cheerfully.

“Aemond clearly spoils you,” she laughs without a shade of envy. “As he should!”

“He is very kind at heart,” Helaena eagerly assures her. “You will be happy with him, I am certain of it.”

There is a pause that makes him feel uneasy, makes him sneak up closer to the room.

“I do believe he’s not an evil man,” she finally says, “Maybe he just wasn’t made for marriage.”

Surely she can’t see him through the door but he can swear that he feels her gaze, like a silent challenge, a hidden mocking. He barges in without a knock.

Helaena beams. “We were just talking about you!”

His sister’s dress is milky blue, modestly pretty, and loosely fitted. It’s also treacherously pale compared to the liquid gold the Martell girl is dressed in. She’s sitting with her feet under her thighs, the bending of her back is bare and in plain sight. He should’ve walked away the second he heard the sound of her voice because not looking at her seems impossible.

“Oh, you came to see the twins? They are with Aegon but I can call— No, I will bring them back myself,” Helaena springs to her feet, rosy-cheeked and smiley, and leaves the room before Aemond can protest. And then it’s just the two of them.

He takes a breath and makes an effort, with his jaw tense and his blood rising, to drag his eye away from her. It feels as pointless as ignoring sunlight in an open field on a summer day. Only her beauty is more brazen — and so is her wit.

“I take it, gold isn’t your favorite color,” she speaks up with an impish tone. “Would be a bad idea to wear it on our wedding then.”

She never comes too close, always just a little out of reach, and yet he feels as if her presence grips him, weakening his will. He doesn’t want to be with her until he is — and then he has no wish to leave.

It scares Aemond as much as it spikes his anger.

“Why did you agree to come?” he bristles.

“You are not asking about your sister’s chambers, are you?” she clarifies, and he hears her smiling.

He tells himself he only needs to cast a glance to check.

He does — he meets her gaze — her earrings catch the sunlight and cast a trail of glares — the scattering of specks play on her skin, her neck and collarbones, sneak to her upper chest — his own is heaving. His struggle only lasts a moment but it leaves him short of breath. He isn’t looking anymore, his eye trying to discern the pattern on the drapes behind her.

“Our marriage, how do you benefit from it?” he hates how hard it is to control his voice.

And how she watches him intently without giving him a clue of what’s on her mind.

“I plan on visiting my family a couple of times a year. It will be easier to do on dragon back,” she doesn’t sound spiteful when she says it but her words still sting.

He can’t stop an image flashing through his mind: her on top of Vhagar, lungs full of air, pressed to him. It’s tempting — to have her in his hands, and yet the vision is too intangible to cling to. Instead, he thinks that in just three days she learned to play him like a harp, his years' worth of self-control is merely a sand castle against the tide of her sharp tongue.

He only snickers dryly at her reply, then they both hear the sound of running footsteps. Jaehaera and Jaehaerys rush to greet him — but almost instantly abandon, the kids' attention drawn to the shining golden dress.

He thinks “unruly” suits her better than does “pompous”. He comes up with a fake excuse to leave; the image of her stays with him.

>>> He picks more adjectives as the week goes on — she’s audacious, disobedient, wanton. She moves around the castle as if she owns every room she’s in. She wears less, and even on rare occasions when she doesn’t, her defiance more than compensates for it. She never shies away from a deep neckline, nor does she feel the need to hold back her resounding laughs. Her jewelry clinks, each of her dresses is brighter than the other, but it’s her wicked mouth his eye always falls on first.

More times than not, Aemond can’t tear his gaze away, each meal for him now both a torture and a feast.

He watches as she parts her lips, puts them around a luscious grape, a cherry, or a peach, she swipes her tongue to lick up every running drop, savoring its tang — and keeps eye contact with him. He barely can taste the food he’s eating, and no wine can quench his thirst, his body flooding with a feeling he can’t define, his heart adrift.

He tries to fight it off with all our strength. He scratches off “unruly” to write down “unabashed” instead.

But then the dinner comes, and even though he’s never had a taste for sweets, he thinks he’d eat them from her lips (deep down, he wants to). The lies he tells himself are brittle like the flesh of fruits under her teeth.

>>> He comes to think “insufferable” fits her the best. That thought rings in his head while he is standing in the stable, his eye on anything but her. He was informed she wished to pick a horse, and he begrudgingly agreed to come, only to keep up the pretense.

What turns out to be much harder is for him to keep restraint. The dress she’s wearing might as well be a chemise — it’s just as light and white, and much to his discomfort, it also tirelessly risks hiking up to expose more of her legs.

Discomfort, mayhaps, isn’t the right word for it.

He stays out of her way but, unsurprisingly, he ends up looking — at how she walks, spring in her step, swinging her hips. She gives each horse a piece of apple and feeds them by hand, strokes their muzzles, and then she mounts and rides them, one by one. She grabs the reins, her foot easily finds the stirrup, and as she swings her leg over the saddle, her dress slips up, showing a few inches of her skin.

He swallows thickly, glances more intently — over her dainty ankles, bending of her knees, he notes how smooth her skin is, soaking up the sun. Her dress then billows slightly, and his eye glides higher, hungry, follows up the contour of her thighs that bounce a little as the horse gallops.

He feels it blooming — a sensation with no name that travels from the lower chest down to his very navel, then spreads and tightens all that’s underneath.

He is so deep in his enthrallment, he doesn’t hear the steps approaching until there’s someone standing next to him. Quentyn stays silent for a minute, throwing him a sideways glance.

“My sister’s always been terribly picky,” the man says out of the blue, “And usually it’s hard to meet all of her demands,” — it doesn’t seem like it’s the horses he is talking of. The vagueness of it makes Aemond focus as he takes his eye off her but Quentyn doesn’t elaborate, giving him a smile instead. “I do admit, your patience is commendable. Some other man would’ve already interfered just to wrap the process up.”

“I was under the impression she doesn’t need anyone’s help,” Aemond replies evasively.

“You guessed it right,” Quentyn titters, his tone veiled with the same unclear meaning when he adds, “The only thing left for us all is to accept it,” and with that, he goes to join his sister.

When Aemond — tamely, almost yielding — takes a peek at her, his gaze collides with Oberyn’s who clearly watched them talk. Unlike his older brother, he prefers to stay away, but the mischief in him pairs really well with danger. He grants Aemond a nod, switching attention back to her, his threats unspoken for the meantime.

For just a second, it gives Aemond pause as he finds it odd that no one brings up their wedding, and no announcements have been made ever since she came. He doesn’t mull over it for long because her laughter interrupts his thoughts (or maybe he just yearns for any chance to look at her). She rides around the yard, her hair floating in the wind, a little breathless but breathtaking, her lips enticing and her curves making his throat dry.

He tries to ground himself, to look for explanations, for some reprieve from the entrancing spell he’s under — he’s never been so close to losing reason —

out of the corner of his eye, he sees a couple of guards dropping their gaze in poor attempts to stop themselves from gawking; it reins his passion, bringing back his jealousy instead. He’s way too used to seeing himself unworthy to even entertain the thought of having her, and his denial prickles. He wants to burn his feelings out, and anger helps with that — it breaks out and engulfs him fast, hardening both his heart and gaze.

“Quentyn is the friendliest of the two, and you couldn’t hold a conversation?” Aegon appears out of nowhere, seemingly displeased despite the bottle in his hand. “Must you always be so gruff? I stayed behind in hopes you’d make it work!” he waves at Oberyn then glares at Aemond, waiting for a reply. “Are you pretending to be deaf or...?”

“Must she test my patience?” Aemond mutters, his tone not jealous but exasperated, his eye boring into her, “Putting herself out like that for all the men to see.”

Aegon being speechless is a rare sight. He cannot fathom it at first, looking from Aemond back to her, confusion sobering him up. And then he grins, realization creeping up on him; there are some things he’s always quick to notice.

“It’s funny that you say that,” he leans in to tell him and catches Aemond’s gaze, “Since it’s just you who’s staring,” Aegon pats him on the back and leaves to greet her brothers.

Aemond tries to choke it down — his irritation and his shame combined, but it’s too much for him to handle, his head and heart clearly in conflict. He doesn’t wait for her to make a choice, retiring without sparing her a glance (a fear nibs at him that if he looks at her once more, he will stay rooted to the ground).

He doesn’t leave his chambers for the remainder of the day, dining all alone and fuming all the same. He’s usually good at curbing his emotions but he is having trouble understanding them, wanting nothing more than to erase all memories of her. But even in his solitude, he catches himself thinking — about her cunning smile and swaying hips, her eyes on him, his hands wanting to roam and touch and —

Aemond shoves unwanted thoughts away and goes to bed earlier than usual. He remains steadfast in his resolve to find some peace, he makes a conscious effort to shift his focus to all the boring, random things his mind can come up with until he is too tired to care.

But then he falls asleep, and his subconscious welcomes her. He sees her right before his eye in that obscenely short white dress, there are no people in the yard, her tantalizing moves all meant for him. She hops off her black horse and walks to him without a single word — anticipation makes him drop his guard and hold his breath — and then he feels her lips on his, her body pressing into him, his hunger for her ruining his self-control, the kiss is searing, suffocating, driving him insane, his fingers pulling up her dress —

he wakes up painfully aroused.

He lays in bed, his heartbeat rushing, his breathing ragged, and vision blurred. While he’s still grasping for the remnants of his dream, he sneaks his hand into his breeches, wishing he could rip her dress off and sheath himself inside her, spread her on his bed, and drink every salacious sound she makes... It only takes him a few strokes to spill over his fingers; he can’t remember if he’s ever reached his peak so fast.

And only then, as he comes down from his high, it hits him, like lightning in the dark — in spite of her remarks, her audacity, her dresses, and every cruel adjective he’s found for her, he’s never wanted anyone so badly. Aemond sits up abruptly, his sleep gone, giving way to stubbornness that comes hand in hand with reticence. He persuades himself that he’ll suppress this — the spark, the pleasure that he craves, and he won’t be a slave to his desires.

He’ll rid himself of feelings, of this lust. Inevitably it will wane.

>>> It doesn’t.

Desire is a guest that never leaves, unwanted but demanding space, attention, time. It slips into his thoughts the moment he wakes up, it whispers in his ears, never giving up, it’s layered in between his clothes and his skin. He hides it well from everyone; it lodges deeper into him.

Desire is a cherry in her mouth, each fruit she bites in, savors, drinks the juice from. He doesn’t want to watch — he can’t take his eye off her, caught in his fervor like in undertow, the flavor of her lips the only one he truly yearns for.

Desire bruises more than does a hit, cuts deeper than a blade, and there’s no weapon he can fight it off with. His training brings him no relief, and he can’t sweat it out or wash it off him, and even while he soaking in a bath, it feels like longing only rises back with steam.

Desire waits for him at night, stands by his bed, slides right under the covers with him. He dreams of her, and in those dreams, her body sings under his every touch, trembles from his praise, his hands and mouth paint her with marks and kisses. He wakes up with his chest aflame and out of breath, and then it takes all of his willpower not to crawl to her.

It staggering how much he really wants her, and he hates himself for it.

>>> It’s been three weeks and they have barely shared a word. He does his best to cut down their encounters and avoid her, he doesn’t argue and takes no offense, he hopes that if he pulls back just enough she will give up and let him be.

Aemond spends his evenings in the study, his table piled with books, and for a couple of hours, it does help to take his mind off things. The night already steals in while he’s searching through the shelves for scrolls, too caught up in the process to pick up the creaking of his door.

Her gaze nearly scalds him. He only looks up out of surprise — and then he freezes at the spot, his heart a stone that plummets to his stomach.

Out of everything she’s worn, this dress might be the one to bring him to his knees — the cutting out the front so low, his eye falls in the hollow between her breasts; he envies fervently the golden chain that rests there. He takes in her whole body, bare arms, and flaunting forms, all clad in deep dark green. He’s never seen her pick that color (and he can’t help but think she put it on for him).

He’s brought back from his stupor when their eyes meet — and startled by the determination in her gaze.

“Ser Criston told me that you missed your training,” she stately starts walking toward him, “Quite a few times this week.”

“I found myself preoccupied with other things,” he clears his throat and clasps his hands behind his back, the scrolls forgotten.

“With reading, I assume?” she almost sounds aggrieved (he wants to ask what else she’d rather have him do) but then her tone gets jaunty. “Would you mind if I join?”

“Actually, I would,” Aemond takes his eye off her, his coldness feigned. “I’d like to avoid distractions.”

And more than anything, he would like for her to leave; she’s not the one to give up so easily. “Maybe we can learn some things together?” she nonchalantly insists, and that ambiguity — deliberate or not — leaves his face suffused with pink.

“I highly doubt you take interest in the things I study,” he manages, his crudeness biting his own tongue.

She only sneers, already nearing his table. “You surely rush to judgment.”

“And I am never wrong.” (Although he’s been wrong once before.)

“That’s very humble of you.” (And she’s tenacious with her intent to prove him wrong again.)

“I am surprised you know that word,” he replies too hastily — and instantly regrets his outburst.

And his attempts to get away from her could’ve been valiant, but only left him feeling like a coward.

She’s got enough courage to spare. “Oh, my apologies, did I strike a nerve?” her hip grazes a stack of books. “You sound so displeased with my behavior,” she puts her hands right on his table, her cleavage in full view.

“You interrupted my studies,” he’s looking only at her face.

“Just this one time,” she clears up, her sly smile is a dare, “Sounds like you have quite a few complaints.”

Damned be her dress and the day he laid his eye on her. “It’s clear as day that we have nothing in common,” he hisses, her persistence molding his anger. “From your bawdy humor to your reckless behavior and your...,” he struggles to push the word through his mouth, “vulgar dresses — everything suggests that we will never make a good couple.”

He catches a gleam in her gaze but it’s not threatening nor hurt — and when the corners of her mouth curl up, her face expression actually looks amused. “I didn’t realize my presence tormented you that much,” she crosses arms over her chest, her hands under her breasts; he looks away that very instant. “So will it please you if I take my vulgar dresses and go back home and leave you be?”

He wants to say it will — he’s thought of it for days — but now he isn’t sure. The dreams he has of her will hardly be enough as every image he collected has got nothing on the real form.

“Is there anything that does?” she asks him suddenly and takes a step in his direction, and then another one.

Belatedly, he realizes that he’s backed against the wall. The air in the room heats up, and Aemond moves back to his table, fingers holding to its edge to find some balance. “...Does what?”

“Please you,” she swiftly clarifies, now standing at arm’s length.

“That isn’t any of your concern,” he wants to glance away and yet, his eye is drawn to her.

“I am inclined to disagree,” her lips stretch into a smile. “Shouldn’t a wife know how to make her husband feel good?”

“We are not married yet,” he tries to argue weakly.

“I’d like to learn beforehand,” but her assertiveness works quicker than his doubts.

The time is still, and seconds drag like hours. His heart leaps at the thought of being all alone with her, his concentration crumbling, his self-restraint already hanging by a thread.

“The way you look at me suggests you aren’t averse to the idea,” she tells him in a low voice, her eyes two glowing embers. Aemond gulps, she deftly rounds the table. “You act so cold and so collected,” she muses, coming closer, and he helplessly steps back. “But I am yet to meet a man who would deny himself the pleasure of laying with a woman,” her voice is warm and warming; his legs bump into the chair, prompting him to sit.

He hesitates for barely a moment but his quick reaction fails him because the next thing he knows, she’s standing next to him, her golden chain casting a blinding glint — he blinks — and then she’s straddling him, her thighs on either side of his.

Aemond’s mouth falls slack as he becomes aware: to lift her he will have to touch her. He glances down at her legs that sneaked out through the long slits of her dress, all bare to the very hips before him.

“I wonder if you are too spoiled by the attention of the ladies? Mayhaps you’ve got so satiated, the intimacy doesn’t bring you any joy,” she runs her fingers up his chest.

He only finds it in himself to shake his head. She isn’t satisfied with that reaction. “Or do you simply find it boring and have a taste for something else?”

Objection bubbles in his throat but he gets no chance to voice it — he barely registers a clinking sound before he feels cold steel pressed under his chin, her fingers wrapped around the hilt of his own dagger. He meant to leave it at the training yard but it completely slipped his mind.

“Does this work better? I’ve heard that you Targaryens have peculiar tastes,” her other hand lands on his shoulder, his chest is stirring with emotions he can’t read.

“That’s not— No,” he mumbles, his voice raw, the weight and feeling of her body overwhelming.

She cocks her brow at him in disbelief. “No? So it’s just plain old satiation then?” she makes no attempt to press the blade but her questions do get pushy. “Must be so hard when women throw themselves at you ever since you were... What was it, ten? Twelve years of age?”

He would expect her to sound teasing — instead, he hears disappointment. That’s the reaction he is used to getting.

“My brother took me to a pleasure house when I was ten-and-three. He said it’s time to get it wet,” he forces out, “And it was...,” awful and humiliating, something he wishes to forget, “...Not what you are describing.”

Her face expression changes — first surprised, then splashed with sadness, and her every feature softens. Aemond sees her opening her mouth to speak but he averts his gaze, abasement scrabbling at him. His eye falls closed, and he keeps thinking that now she will get up and leave, and there won’t be any wedding, and he’s got no reason to get so overly upset already, and —

she sheathes his dagger without a word, the unexpected movement making him breathe out.

And then she dips her head down, and her lips fall on his jaw. Aemond inhales sharply. Her mouth feels softer than it was in all his dreams, and she plants kisses down his throat, moving to the part of it the blade was pressed to. He doesn’t know where to put his hands while hers lock nimbly around his neck.

She pulls back slowly, and he dares to look at her again, trying to catch the merest shadow of pretense but there is none.

“I am truly sorry that you had to go through that,” she tells him quietly. “Have you tried some more since then?”

“I did,” his answer comes off hurried, blank, “I... I am aware of how the act is done.”

“How the act is done? Aemond, that doesn’t sound enjoyable at all,” she pouts, then gently caresses his face, her voice a tender whisper when she adds, “But it should be.”

He stiffens, waiting for the discomfort to wake up, for the aversion to coil his guts, to trigger the jarring need to move away. None of that happens. Instead, he feels her fingers running through his hair, a calming motion bringing only comfort, her every touch relieving tightness in his chest.

“You seem too tense... We have to work on that,” she joyfully murmurs. “Unless, of course, my worry causes you distress,” her fingers stop, “Do you want me to leave, my prince?”

“No,” he rasps, he almost pleads, “D-don’t.”

She hums with satisfaction, bringing her hands down to unclasp his leather doublet, knowing she won’t meet any resistance. He should resent her for this but he doesn’t (he didn’t and he won’t). The air lays cold over his shirt, and Aemond shivers; she moves her fingers down his firm chest with an unspoken admiration.

“Tell me how it usually goes,” she inquires, one of her hands finding its way back to his silver locks. “Do you find pleasure in undressing them?”

Her warmth envelopes him, scented with cinnamon and peaches. “They come without much clothes,” Aemond blurts out, earning another hum from her.

“And what about you?” she glances curiously at him.

“I don’t... I don’t like them touching me,” he timidly avows, and saying it to her does bring somewhat of a relief.

With both of her hands, she cradles his face, thumbs gently contouring his cheeks — he all but melts into her palms. “And yet you are so responsive to the touch,” her voice praises, “So pretty.”

She leans in again, leaving a kiss at the hollow of his throat — and then her mouth travels up, ardent and steady, and he squirms in place. Not out of discomfort.

“You are not supposed to rush it if you want it to feel good,” she whispers in his ear and moves back to catch his gaze. “You never rush into fighting so why love making should be any different?”

Astonishment brightens his face, and she chuckles lightly. “I must confess, I did enjoy watching you train, even though you never noticed. The way you move and twirl your sword,” she’s recollecting breathy, “You are so lithe and fast and so resistant... An infatuating sight.”

She holds his gaze and lifts her hand — he follows it, unblinking, until it finds one of the straps — she hooks it with her fingers. “Fairly soon it made me wonder how would your hands feel... on me,” his heart jolts at her words.

Slowly, she moves the strap aside, baring her breast for him; Aemond’s breathing hitches. She takes his hand in hers, planting a kiss over his knuckles — and then lets his fingers graze her naked skin.

“It was so cruel of you to rob me of my pleasure,” she laments, but he can barely hear a thing, his eye wide as he fixes on the soft swell of her breast, on how her nipple peaks so eagerly under his touch.

She guides his hand over her chest, down to her ribs and waist, letting him brush her every curve, placing his fingers firmly on her hip. And then she reaches for his other hand and lowers the other strap; his body trembles. The layers of his reticence are all peeled at once, leaving his desire raw and undisguised, unshackled. He’s drawn to fondle, clutch at her plump breasts but her grip is tight and taunting, not letting his fingers roam free.

Still, when both his hands sink into her hips, he realizes that he’s getting harder by the second.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by her. With a controlled, torturously slow move she drags her clothed core over his straining cock. His mouth stays closed but there’s a sound — a muffled moan caught in his throat.

“Doesn’t this feel good?” she teases, lightly tugging on his hair, her lips reaching the column of his neck. “With how much you read, I hoped you’d be more generous with words,” each of her kisses weightless like a drop of rain but then her mouth finds a spot below his ear and suckles at it, pulling a whimper from his chest.

He thinks he should... his mind goes blank after another movement of her hips, and she picks up the pace, merciless and sensuous. He tries biting down his moans but only hurts his mouth. She notices, her rapt eyes on him, and puts her finger on his lower lip:

“Please, don’t be shy with me,” she coos, her gentle touch soothing his bitten flesh, “Our desires coincide,” she earnestly affirms him — and the spark erupts and drags him into pure bliss.

He feels that his arousal leaks, his breeches way too tight to hide it, his fingers dig into her supple skin, but she gives no complaints. He watches breathlessly through his hooded eyelid as she grinds against him, then looks over her bouncing breasts, her nipples pebbled, and the pressure curls somewhere down his spine. She peppers him with kisses — the angles of his face, neck, everything that she can reach, except for his desirous mouth. And yet the softness of her lips and hands, her skin that’s draped with the redolent scent, the rhythm of her hips all bring him closer to the edge.

Her forehead is pressed to his, their lips an inch away but never fully touching. “Let go for me,” she says against his mouth, “My handsome, fierce dragon.”

That does it for him. He harshly presses her to him, then shudders with a strangled moan and comes undone, his eye squeezed shut as her name quivers in his mouth. The pleasure whirls him in and leaves him drained and stunned, a little bit light-headed.

It takes Aemond a minute to recover before he finds her gaze again — and in another minute he discerns her shallow breaths, her parted lips, brows slightly furrowed. He wants to ask her if she reached her peak, if he can help her with it —

but she pulls back.

She stands up and only briefly grabs his shoulder, steadying herself, then promptly puts the straps back on, fixing her dress. He wants to lend a hand but she moves it away, leaning in to lightly caress his face. “No, you don’t get to have me yet. I want you to admit it first, to say that you want me,” her words are laced with dignity but cooling to his mind.

She steps back, cruelly fast, the only consolation is her naughty tone. “Until then, I have to satisfy myself some other way. But I will think of you while doing it, my dear prince,” she promises, a ghost of a smile on her lips, and then walks out without looking back.

The silence feels unwelcome in the room and hangs over the ceiling like a cloud, but Aemond he is too dazed to move, spent and perplexed to wrap his head around it.

Desire, it seems, has come to stay.

But it’s not the only thing he’s feeling.

✧... YES, there will be a second part, it’s already in the works! ✧ and yes, I didn’t bother to rename Pedro’s character 'cause I adore Oberyn sue me

✧ just to clarify, I usually age Aemond up to 20 (or however old Ewan looks to you ;) ✧ I got inspired after watching the video for ROSALÍA’s “La Fama” (give it a watch, she is soooo 🥵) but I only found it because of this gorgeous gifset so shout-out to OP for giving me inspiration

✧ my recent fic (couples who kill together, stay together 🔥) ✧ my masterlist

thank you @amiraisgoingthruit for letting me tag you in every silly story of mine, hope you’ll like this one (if anyone else wants to be tagged, don’t be shy)

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes. reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

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ponderingmoonlight · 1 year

Text

Having to share a bed with Gojo Satoru at a love hotel

Listen...I've got a little carried away by this one. While I'm currently writing for Geto and Toji, this part will only contain Gojo as it ended up so damn long. Hope you still enjoy <3

Part l (Megumi, Nanami, Yuta)

Part lll (Toji, Geto, Haibara, Choso)

Sharing a bed with JJk men pt ll

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,8k (this was supposed to be a cute little one shot lol)

Warnings: No real smut, but it's getting REALLY spicy - you have been warned...

Synopsis: After pretending to be in a relationship with Gojo for some time, the two of you seem to be the perfect match for a mission at a love hotel.

It is ridiculous. You both know that all too well. Will it stop you from pretending to be Gojo’s girlfriend even though you aren’t more than friends? Absolutely not. You’ve been doing this for a while now, at the beginning only to take him as your plus one to a wedding and for him to fake proposals at restaurants for free meals. You are very aware of the fact that this is already going too far, especially when you consider that whole Jujutsu High seems to believe you.

“Hello there Gojo-bear!”, you cry out.

But it’s just way too fucking funny and comfortable to stop now. The thing is, it has a whole lot of benefits: easier missions, raises over raises, less trouble because everyone seems to fear your ‘boyfriend’ but most importantly you get to spend some time with Satoru himself. You hate to admit it, but the way he smiles down at you and wraps his arm around your waist does things to you you’d never say out loud.

“There you are honey!”, he replies with a sly grin, embracing you in his arms just like he always does.

The problem is, you just know that it isn’t more for him than a joke. Your heart stings in agony just thinking about the way he immediately scoots away from you as soon as nobody’s around anymore. To Satoru, you really are nothing more than a friend he enjoys to spend time and mess with.

“Yikes, why is this so cringe?”, Nobara mutters.

“Just wait until you find your true love, kids”, Satoru shouts towards them.

Fuck that ass eating smile of him and the way it makes your heart flutter. It’s all a lie and nothing else. Nothing but a made up story. Remember that.

“Satoru, (y/n). I have a mission for you. Follow me.”

The harsh voice of Masamichi Yaga pulls you out of your distress. A mission for both of you? Normally Satoru is sent alone. After all, he is the strongest and every other jujutsu sorcerer is only in his way. What is it that makes him think it is a good idea to send the both of you together?

“We were informed about a curse that killed over 100 couples within the span of a few weeks in several love hotels located in Tokyo. As you guys are the most disgusting couple I’ve ever seen, both of you were assigned to stay at the love hotel with the greatest number of deaths and exorcise that curse once and for all. Understood?”

It’s like your world turns upside down. Did you really hear that correctly? This has to be a joke, right? Ain’t no way he really thinks you and Satoru…Your gaze wanders to his shamelessly gorgeous face that seems as unbothered as usual. Of course. Everyone thinks you are a couple. Therefore, you are a perfect fit for this mission.

“Nothing easier than that. Just send me the location and we’ll get this done in no time. Right honey?”

“Right…”, you mumble.

“You know what that means, right?”, you hiss into his ear after leaving the director’s office.

“Yeah, a free night in a luxurious hotel on the back of the school!”

“No.”

You sign. How the hell is he so unmoved by all of this? Not even Satoru can be too dumb to realize what staying in a love hotel in order to exorcise a curse means…Right?

“If this curse only shows up in front of couples at love hotels then…then…”

Your mouth refuses to say it out loud. No, you are too prideful to confess to him that it makes your knees go weak and your heart bang inside your chest. Why do you bother anyway? You stretch your shoulders and look at him, face hardened.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

The ride into the heart of Tokyo is longer than you remember it, considering Satoru is sitting right beside you and watching anime on his phone.

“Damn, this part gets me every time”, he almost sobs.

“How often did you watch that already?”

“I lost count at 17. What is that look on your face? Don’t you know what happens next?”

“I never watched that one”, you admit, casually shrugging your shoulders.

Satoru drops his phone, intense gaze piercing through you even though he’s wearing glasses.

“You’ve got to be kidding right? You are my girlfriend and you never-“

Thick silence, your eyes widen at the sound of this words coming from his mouth. Girlfriend? Did he actually say that?

“I mean fake girlfriend of course. Just getting ready for later I guess”, he adds along with scratching the back of his head.

“Sure”, you reply automatically.

Can your heart just stop beating so damn loud? This is ridiculous, it was a slip of the tongue and nothing more.

“Listen, (y/n)…As soon as we step through the door of that hotel, you have to be my girlfriend”, he instructs you in a dead serious voice.

“No need to tell me, Gojo-bear…”, you comment dryly, more directed towards yourself than him.

After all, it is you whose love isn’t just a funny little prank. Your feelings are more than real, considering you can almost hear your heart shattering like fragile glass. How stupid it was to even think he could somehow feel the same way, that it’s more than a game to him. Who knows how much time he spends with other women behind your back…

“This is it. Are you ready?”

Get. Yourself. Together. You smile confidently and nod. Being in love with Gojo Satoru might be senseless, but revealing your true feelings towards him is even worse. No, you are way too prideful to give him that. Without thinking twice you grab his hand tightly just like you did multiple times before. You will get through this and bring this madness to an end after this mission.

“Hey, we’ve booked a room here for two.”

“The name?”, the man behind the desk asks while eyeing you intensely.

Fuck, don’t let your face turn red, withstand his gaze. Maybe he’s asking himself why a man like Satoru is with a girl like you…

“Gojo Satoru.”

“There you go. Feel free to use the elevator and call immediately if something is strange. Please check out before midday. Have a nice stay.”

“We sure will!”, Satoru replies with a cheeky grin before taking the key card and maneuvering you into the elevator.

“God, I can’t wait to be alone with you baby.”

You feel like choking while staring at him. Did he really just say that, is this for real?

“Listen, (y/n)…As soon as we step through the door of that hotel, you have to be my girlfriend”

Your heart sinks. Calm down, idiot. It’s only for the mission. You never know when and where the curse is, so it just makes sense to play along until it shows up. Reluctantly you smile at him with dead eyes. Why does this hurt so fucking badly? You pretended to be his girlfriend for more than a year now and it never bothered you that he held your hand and called you stupid nicknames. But this…This is something completely different. You are at a love hotel and Satoru is straight up trying to seduce you. How the hell are you supposed to feel about all of this?

“Let’s go, shall we?”

His hand rests on your hip while he leads you to the right room with ease. It feels like his hand burns against your skin, suddenly the air is way too hot to breathe properly. You want to get out of here, away from Satoru but at the same time you need him so much closer…What has gotten into you?

“Hey, no need to be nervous babe, I got you”, he breathes against your outer ear.

“I just…never done something like this. That’s all”, you admit dryly while avoiding his gaze at all cost.

“I’ll guide you, no worries.”

He closes the door behind you and cages your body with his. You are trapped between Satoru’s arms, no way to escape his intense stare and the way his large frame feels pressed against yours. At this point it seems like all of your senses and the ability to interact have simply vanished from your body. His gaze is…filthy, completely occupied by lust as it seems. You feel like your knees will give in any minute, heart almost pounding out of your chest while blood begins to pulsate between your legs. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Are you fainting? What is this feeling?

“I’ll make you feel the way you deserve it”, Satoru rasps.

Before you can react, he lifts you in the air with ease and throws you on the soft bed in the middle of the room.

“S-satoru…I-I…never done this”, you repeat with choked voice, sweat dripping down your face while you desperately try to stop yourself from wincing.

God, he makes you feel so weak with the way his eyes hungrily linger over your body and seem to swallow you whole.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

And then it happens. His lips brush against yours. Slowly at first, almost sweetly. You close your eyes, hands automatically grabbing his strong biceps in a frantic attempt to get a hold of this situation. Is all of this a dream? Impossible. The way his arms are wrapped around you while his unmistakable scent fills the air around is way too real for that. Satoru picks up the pace, his tongue inviting itself into your mouth to get instantly into a tangled dance with yours. Fuck, this feels so good, almost like you’re on drugs – addicted to his touch and kisses.

“Satoru”, you literally moan into his parted lips.

You need to feel his body even closer, his touch a little rougher, his lips even better. You want more. No, you need more. More of the drug that only Satoru Gojo seems to be able to give you.

“I-I need more”, you stutter, eyes gleaming in pleasure.

“I would give you the world, (y/n). Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long…”

“How much I hate all of these fucking happy couples. Die! All of you, die!”

It’s like you get hit by a train when the distorted voice of a stranger fills the room with hatred and disgust. Satoru’s body blocks the view of the curse making its way through the ceiling at the speed of light. Automatically, you claw into his upper arms for hold.

“Took you quite some time to get here. I was almost afraid that you wouldn’t show up for our rendez-vous.”

“Would you mind letting me go for a second, darling?”, he words addressed to you.

Your hands let go of him immediately, body rolling to the other side of the bed in order to give Satoru the room he needs. The fight itself doesn’t take long. In fact, you aren’t even able to catch a glimpse at the curse before the room is lit up in purple, lilac glibber raining down on the bed with pieces of the ceiling, threatening to hit you right in your face. Pressing your eyes shut, you surrender to your fate. Not the first time you get covered in the remaining of some disgusting curse…

“Do you really think I’d let you get covered in this? You don’t know me well, darling.”

When you open your eyes again, you aren’t greeted by lilac glibber. In fact, it stopped right before hitting you with full force. You let out your breath you didn’t know you were holding, gaze finding Satoru’s bright blue orbs that seem to glitter.

“I’d say we smashed that mission”, he proudly announces, shaking the remaining of the ceiling and curse away from both of you while lifting himself off the bed.

You slowly get up from your trance, heart completely shattering at his words. You smashed the mission? Is this everything he is able to think about? Just seconds ago he laid on top of you, his tongue in your mouth while he told you over and over the finest things you ever heard from him. Everything nothing but…a lie? You want to get away from him as soon as possible, the pictures of him and you burn into your heart like a fuel rod. It was all just a game for him, a necessary price he had to pay to complete the mission.

“Thank god we did”, you hiss and abruptly jump out of bed, body swaying back and forth in dizziness.

Salty tears start to burn in your eyes, flooding over any second. No, don’t cry. What about your pride, how you always carried yourself with your head held high? A sob shakes your body before you can stop it. Fuck all of that. This hurts like hell.

“Hey, what is going on? Are you sad because I didn’t let you have your moment with that curse? Y’know, he was a pretty weak grade 1 any-“

“Is all of this a joke to you?”, you yell into his face, tears now running like a waterfall while your chest feels like it’s going to explode.

Satoru’s eyes widen in horror. Fuck, he never saw you like this. And the worst is that he seems to be the cause of your tears.

“You’re anything but a joke to me, (y/n)”, he replies dead serious.

“All the things you said were nothing but a big lie! All these kisses meant nothing to you!”, you cry out.

“(y/n)-“

“They did to me though. I never shared a bed with a man before, Satoru. It was special to me.”

Your voice sounds so defeated that Satoru instinctively gets up and walks towards you.

“But it was special to me too, (y/n)! It was always more than just pretending for me.”

“Stop kidding me. This pretending comes to an end right now. From now on, I’m not your fake girlfriend anymore.”

“Good, that’s what I wanted to say.”

You nod to yourself while his cruel words hit you like a wall all over again. So this is how it comes to an end. You always knew that sooner or later, you wouldn’t be able to keep up with the lies anymore. How were you supposed to build a future on top of a pile of foul lies? It was beneficial as long as it lasted. You shouldn’t have expected more from the start.

“I don’t want you to be my fake girlfriend anymore. Please, just make it real and official. I loved you this whole time (y/n). It always felt better to pretend than to potentially not having you at all. Today showed me that I can’t be without you, that I want to share a bed with you every night and not just for a mission. I’m beggin’ on my knees if I have to, please be my girlfriend.”

Time stands still, you are unable to move as your mind desperately tries to process what he just said. He want you to be his girlfriend…for real?

“Stop messing around with me, Gojo”, you warn him.

But a little voice inside you tells you that he isn’t lying, that his face tells nothing but the truth. Can it really be that the Gojo Satoru wants you to be his girlfriend? Your skin starts to prickle while your heartbeat picks up in an instant. Please let this be real…

“I’m not. I want to hold you like I did before that fucking curse appeared every hour of the day and not just when someone’s around, (y/n).”

“But…Why did you always break away from me when we were alone? You could have just told me, I-“

You stop. You did it just like him. Pretended that it’s nothing but a stupid joke to you, that Satoru didn’t mean more than a friend does. You told yourself over and over that your feelings aren’t real, that you are just a good actor. Oh, but it was so much more. It is so much more.

“I did the same”, you confess your thoughts to him.

“Please, (y/n). Let’s make it real, no pretending anymore. Be by my side.”

His hands gently cup your face while your arms instinctively wrap around his neck.

“Nothing better than that”, you mutter before pressing your lips against his.

“You know, that bed is still looking good and we’ve booked for a night…”

“Let’s not waste the precious money of Jujutsu High, then”, you moan while he bites down your neck.

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d4yl1ghts · 3 months

Note

Heyo, hope ur having a lovely day! I saw ur requests were open and was wondering if u could write smthn for Benedict with a partner who doesn’t want kids? I just think they’re kinda overwhelming (also pregnancy scary)

If u don’t feel comfortable writing this then just general fluff is also good, I’ve just noticed that a lot of Bridgerton fanfic has pregnancy/childbirth and it’s basically impossible to find stuff for a reader who doesn’t want kids so. Yeah

Thanks in advance :))

happy with just the two of us

benedict bridgerton x wife, fem!reader

summary: benedict knows of your attitudes towards society yet he doesn’t see your guilt caused by it

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, guilt

A/N- sorry that this is so short

You and Benedict had been married for six months and you were yet to properly took about the idea of children. After Benedict had proposed to you, you had mentioned that you disliked the idea of having children but you doubted he would remember. You found yourself getting eaten away by guilt every time you saw him smile as children ran around the park whilst you were promenading.

After weeks of dreading the conversation, you decided that it was finally time for it to occur. You couldn’t deal with the guilt any longer. Slowly, you made your way along the intricately designed corridors that lead to Benedict’s art studio. Upon seeing the entrance, you noticed your husband delicately painting a new piece of artwork.

You admired the way his back muscles clenched as he glided the paint brush across the canvas. You admired his ruffled hair: he must have run his hand through it a few too many times in indecisiveness. You shook yourself out of your trance and cautiously walked up behind him. Carefully, you placed your hand on his shoulder, signalling to him that you were there.

He instinctively jumped slightly which caused you to let out quiet giggles to which he followed with his sweet chuckles. He glanced up at you with his angelic eyes. “Was there anything you wanted, my love?”, he allowed his eyes to rake over your features. You nervously played with the hem of your dress as you avoided his eyes. “Yes, actually.”

A short silence followed as he awaited on your upcoming words. You found yourself unable to form your thoughts as words. He patiently watched as you worked to say what you wanted to say. “Well…”, you began as you waded into dangerous waters. “I have something that is incredibly important to tell you.”, you admitted rather shamefully. “What is it, Y/N?”, he reached out to gently touch your hand. “I, personally, do not see a life with children for myself in the future.”, you confessed as you dropped your head down.

“My love, look at me.”, he coaxed as he moved his hand to underneath your chin to lift your gaze up to him. “I do believe that you told me before we were to wed.”, he recalled. You let out a long breath in relief. He had remembered. And he still remained with you. “And you were still willing to marry me?”, you asked shyly. “Of course. I do not require a life with children. What I do require is a life with you. I could not live without you, my love.”, he assured you.

“So… you do not care of what society will think when we’re old with no children?”, you questioned for confirmation. He nodded. “If you had not noticed yet, my love, I do not typically abide to the rules of society.”, he chuckled as he thought of himself. You laughed along with him in appreciation for his certain words. You silently moved so you were seated on his lap before you placed your lips against his. He moved his hands to the side of your hips as he passionately kissed you back.

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton oneshot #fem!reader

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cntloup · 7 months

Text

Fem!Military!Reader fluffy fluff :')

"What if we just elope?" you blurt out casually to your lieutenant. His eyes widen, trying not to choke on his tea. "Wha'?" he asks in disbelief of what he just heard. "Let's elope. We'll tell Price. He can be the witness.” you reply, speaking so nonchalantly. “Don’t you wanna marry me?” you ask, pouting, trying not to burst into laughter as you see the shocked look stuck on his face. “You’re fucking serious, aren’t you?” he starts to get into the idea of eloping, “ ‘course I wanna marry you, dove!” he mutters as he lifts you from your seat by the waist and plumps you down on his lap, making you giggle as he captures your lips in a sweet kiss. “Don’t you want a proper wedding?” he asks, thinking how you deserve the absolute best, everything that you’ve ever dreamed of. “No, it’s too much. I want it to be just us.” you respond, nuzzling your nose against his, “What about you?” you ask, curious about his opinion since he’s never mentioned it. “I’d melt at the sight of you walking down the aisle for me.” he whispers and kisses you softly, “But whatever you want, lovie.” “You’re such a softie, Si!” you say, teasingly, “Shut up!” he scolds, a low chuckle escaping his lips. “You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamt about marrying you.” he murmurs against your lips, “We'll do whatever you want, love... go wherever you want. But I haven’t proposed yet.” “Were you planning to?” you ask, surprised. He pulls out a small dark green box from his pocket and you gasp dramatically, placing your hand over your heart. You've talked about marriage before but you had no idea he was planning to propose any time soon since you were both very busy with your tough job. He opens the box and inside it, there is a vintage ruby ring, “It’s my mum’s ring. I've been carrying it for so long now. Going over what to say and how to pop the question a million times but I had no idea.” he utters as a heaviness settles in his chest at the mention of his mother. “Oh, Simon!” you coo, leaning in to kiss him. “You deserve the best, love. Are you sure about this?” he questions, still not believing the fact that you want to marry him, despite you mentioning it countless times. “Of course I'm sure, Si! You're the love of my life.” you say, gently caressing his stubbled cheeks, pure love evident in your beautiful eyes. “Then I'm gonna do this the proper way.” he says as he gently places you on your feet and gets down on one knee. “Dove, will you marry me?” he asks, tears welling up in his eyes as he looks up at you. “Yes! Of course!” you squeal out, sobbing. He gets up and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. You pull away after a while, panting and giggling as he presses his forehead against yours, a loving smile on his face that reaches his eyes, reserved only for you. “I love you.” “I love you too, Si.”

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #cod x reader #ghost x reader #cod fanfic #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #mw2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader

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snickerdoodie · 13 days

Note

Any hc’s for Scott (twisters) who is only not an asshole when he’s around his s/o? Others see him being sweet to her and are like wtf why can’t be be that nice to us 🥲

No cause I’ve also been obsessed with that idea of him for so long, ahhh. He seems like such a “I care about you and you only” kinda guy and it just fuels my obsession

A/N: this is my first time ever writing anything like head canons so if it’s goofy I apologize in advance. Not proofread as usual. Also I really hope it was anything like you expected 😭. But anyway, enjoy!

Scott Miller Headcanons

Right off the bat, I think we can all agree talking is not one of Scott’s strong suits. The only times he really talks is when he’s proposing ideas to Riggs and Javi about potential deals. So when the team finds him willingly chatting with you after a day of collecting data, they all just short circuit.

Like hello?? Are they dreaming??? Wtf going on???? Like out of everybody to talk to you choose him??? And they’re not even mad they’re just..they have no clue what to think, they’ve never seen him look so at ease before lmao. There’s no permanent scowl on his face or anything, just his baritone voice mixing with your own. Ngl it creeped them out at first, they really thought the world was ending that night.

Javi’s the first to really notice the changes in Scotts demeanor around you; the quick glances, the ever so slight smiles, and even the smallest touches like his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand when he’s giving a speech, he’s seen it all.

Speaking of, I just know that Scott’s love language has got to be either words of affirmation or physical touch. He loves hearing you tell him how much he matters to you, or how you remember small things about him, it just makes him smile. For him being a not very vocal person, it’s hard for him to tell you straight up how much he cares for you. It doesn’t even have to be gentle or meaningful words, making witty comebacks to his sarcastic remarks is always enough for him.

But his way of expressing his affection is through small touches. Standing close enough to you where you can smell his cologne, brushes of his fingers to your waist or hand, overall just standing close to you. (Now that I think abt it, that’s a looot more like quality time but whatever☺️)

Anyway, back on topic cuz I’m too easily distracted. The crew really tried their hardest to get Scott to even be remotely nice to them after that. I mean if he was nice to you then he could be nice to them right? Can’t be that hard. Boy oh boy were they wrong…they literally did everything in their power. They bought him coffees on early mornings, made sure he has the nicest, or as nice as they could be, bed sheets at motels, volunteered to do his dirty work of pages and pages of paperwork, but literally nothing worked. All they ever got were blank stared nods or a grumbled ‘thanks.’ At this point they were flabbergasted. How could you get that cocky bastard to even glance at you?? Nevertheless smile at you?

They have up like 5 days after trying lmfao, it was utterly useless to try and make that man any less brooding then he is. After trying through, they realized that all their attempts didn’t go completely wasted.

Scott brought you hot drinks on the chilly nights and morning as you two sat together in the crappy hotel rooms. Stopped smacking his gum whenever you side-eyed him a little too hard, much to everyone’s relief. Always walked you to your room after a late night to make sure you got there safe.

As much as they hated how self centered and blunt Scott was, they all secretly knew how love drunk he was about you. (Don’t bring it up to him, but they’re all secretly jealous they dont get any kind of special treatment

First head canon ask!! I do not think I did very good at it though💀💀. I had ideas in my head but they were not coming out the way I ask. But I hoped you at least liked some of it! I promise to write a better one in the future!

And as always, feel free to comment about anything you liked or didn’t like. Inbox is always open to more ideas! <3

#headcanons #twisters 2024 #scott miller #scott twisters #javi twisters #twisters #Scott Miller fluff #scott miller x reader #x Reader?#twisters fic #twisters fan fic #Scott miller fic

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leahsgirl · 8 months

Text

“yes you idiot.”

— in which leah has planned on proposing to you for a long time - except when that time does come; it all goes awry.

pairings - leah williamson x reader (female)

warnings - none, just minor swearing.

a/n - this is my first shot at writing so it may be horrible i apologise

—

“so once i’ve finished setting everything up I’ll text you and let you know i’m on my wa-“ Leah was mid conversation with Beth and Viv; until you interrupted of course, slotting yourself next to the blonde and matching strides with her as you make your way off the training pitch.

“what are you guys talking about?” you questioned as you observed beth and viv give each other a quick glance.

“nothing baby, I was just asking how myles was adjusting.” Leah replied, reaching out for your hand.

You and Leah have been dating for two and a half years, having officially met playing for the England squad a year prior. While Leah wasn’t your biggest fan to begin with - that soon changed when you made the transfer from manchester united to arsenal, allowing you and the blonde to get closer which then resulted in the two of you starting dating.

“oh my god, you have no idea how excited i’ve been to see him again.”

“i still want to know how you taught him to sit the first time meeting him - he won’t do it for me and Viv.” Beth bewildered.

“what can i say? i’m just the chosen one.” you smirked. “are you sure you can’t come Lee?” Now diverting your attention back to your girlfriend who was sorting out clothes to change into. You and a few of the other girls were going to Beth and Viv’s for a little girls/catch up night, unaware it was actually a set up to keep you out the house while Leah put her plan into action.

“i’ve got to go and help Jacob move stuff out of his apartment y/n or you know i’d be there.” She kissed your cheek.

“definitely just a sore loser because ya’ lost the game last time we went.” Katie piped up, appearing next to the taller girl who in turn gave her a petty slap on the arm.

—

“you’re beautiful.” a voice spoke from the other end of the room, slowly getting closer and wrapping their arms around you from behind as you looked at yourself in the mirror, peppering a few light kisses near your ear.

“and you’re late, weren’t you meant to meet Jacob twenty mins ago?”

Leah shrugged it off. “and miss the chance of admiring my girl. no way.” She planted a quick kiss on your lips, knowing you’d just finished applying your makeup. “besides, he changed the time to seven, i’ve got a good half an hour.”

She plonked herself down on the bed, fiddling with the rings she wore on her fingers. “what you thinking about in that pretty head of yours?” throughout your relationship with leah, you’ve got to know her pretty much inside and out, and if theres one thing you do know; she only messes with her rings when something is bothering her. “hm..nothing, just thinking about us i guess.”

“us?” you pushed, now joining her on the bed. “just like how we’ve ended up here and how thankful i am for you and everything.” the blue-eyed girl turned to look at you, as if she was studying your whole face. “well, i’m very thankful for you too, even if you are a pain in the arse most of the time.” the twenty-six year old faked hurt and annoyance. “but i love you.” you said more sincerely, placing a tender kiss on Leah’s forehead.

“i love you too.”

Leah kindly offered to drop you off at Beth and Viv’s which you accepted of course. All of the other girls were already there; Alessia and Lottie were fussing over myles, Katie, Caitlin and Steph was in what seemed like a very intense conversion, Jenn and Lia was messing with different filters on TikTok and Beth & Viv were playing host.

“there she is! y/n come in.” Viv ushered you inside and offered you a drink. You immediately making a beeline for the man of the hour, crouching down preparing to be bombarded by a very excited puppy.

Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Leah had began decorating. Her plan was for you to come home to a nice romantic homemade dinner, where after you share some nice conversation and food - she would pop the question, asking you to be her wife.

She’s had this planned for a good couple of months, having gone out with some of your teammates to acquire the goods and then going ring shopping on one of her few days off. To be honest, she was quite proud of herself she’s managed to keep this a secret from you for all this time.

The blonde started by blowing up some heart shaped balloons, followed by scattering rose petals from the front door all the way to the dining table which had been covered with a white table cloth and taper candles. She was making your favourite dishes for the meal of course; pasta with pesto and finishing with churros.

easier said than done however. “how do i make pasta?” the defender flipped the camera so her mum who was now on facetime can see the ingredients. It was times like this where she wishes she helped with the cooking more around the house. After practically what turned out to be a cooking lesson, Leah took the opportunity to change into something nicer, and less covered in flour.

Making her way around the bedroom, she opened her nightstand drawer, sifting a few things around until she pulled out a small black velvet box. She opened it briefly, checking the ring was okay and preyed to god you would like it.

Taking one final look at her work around the house, she pulled out her phone to text the fellow forward.

to: meado

just finished up back here, i’m gonna start heading to yours now.

As the night died down, your teammates and yourself had all congregated in the living room, spread across the sofa and the floor with some kind of cheesy sitcom that Lia put on playing in the background. Different conversations were going on, you finding yourself in a deep conversation with Jenn and Caitlin.

“Well well, look who finally decided to show her face.” Katie announced, pointing at all too familiar blonde locks. “Hey guys.” You got up and walked over to her planting a kiss on her cheek.

“i thought you had to help your brother?” You ask while absentmindedly rubbing her back. “oh..i did, we just finished so I thought i’d come pick you up.”

“Do you want a drink Leah?” Steph offered, holding up a beer in each hand. “No thanks, we have to get back to the apartment.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Do we?”

“Yes we do, now come on.” She took your hand and tried to pull you to the door. “What’s with the rush? You’re being weird Lee.”

“I’m not - i’m just tired that’s all, i’m ready for bed.” She fake yawned. You sighed, “okay grumpy, just let me say bye to everyone.”

It’s safe to say the car ride home was no better. Leah’s leg was bouncing up and down which isn’t exactly ideal when you’re driving, she was cursing out everyone on the roads and kept messing with her bangs if they moved in the slightest. “Are you sure you’re okay love?”

The blonde turned to look and you and gave a weary smile, lifting your hand to her lips and giving it a gentle peck. “I’m fine I promise.”

Walking up the steps to your shared home, Leah stopped you before opening the door. “Okay I need you to close your eyes and only open them when I tell you.”

Complying, you shut your eyes. “Suspicious Miss Williamson.” You stated as you could hear your girlfriend fiddling with her keys in the door. she wrapped her arm around yours and guided you inside. “Okay you can open them now.” You followed her advice and took in your surroundings, suddenly getting an overwhelming sense of love surge over you. “Surprise.” Leah pulled you over to the candlelit table and pulled out a chair for you, waiting for you to sit down to then tuck you in. “Lee..i’m speechless. What’s all this for?”

“Just doing my girlfriend duties and treating you.” The blonde brought over two dishes to the table and sat herself down opposite you. “Shut up! you made my favourite meal?!” Taking a bite off your fork, your mouth practically waters with how good it tastes. “Oh my god, babe this is incredible.” Deciding to be more romantic, you twirl some of the pasta onto your fork and hold it out for Leah to take which she does.

it was all going really well; it had been long overdue since you and leah had a ‘date’ so to speak. While you loved your job and wouldn’t trade it for the world, it often meant romantic gestures like these were far and few in between.

“Is something burning?” The smell of smoke filling your nostrils as you look at the kitchen.

“Shit shit shit!” Leah was quick to her feet, opening the oven where a surge of grey smoke escaped and pulled out a tray with what were now very burnt churros. “For fuck sake.” The defender whined “Well there goes dessert.”

Joining her behind the kitchen island, you looked at the baking tray. “well..you tried.” half-heartedly joking, you looked at the older girl who now had a pout on her face. “It’s okay Leah, you made a lovely pasta. Besides, i’m sure we have some ice cream or something in the freezer.”

“No you don’t understand, tonight was meant to be perfect.” She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. You knitted your eyebrows together “Okay out with it.” sternly said, crossing your arms.

“Hm?”

“You’ve been on edge all day..you change the conversation when i caught up to you, meado and Viv. You couldn’t come to girls night which you never miss; i know you said you had to help your brother but then he suddenly changes times, you was angsty all the way home and now you’re practically arguing with the oven. So tell me what’s going on.”

Leah motioned for you to sit on the sofa. “Okay this isn’t how I wanted it to go down but-“ She took a deep breath. “Y/n, as you know i’m not really big on talking about my feelings, but the past three years have been the happiest of my life. you make me excited for the next day to come, you always push me, you stuck with me during my lowest, especially during my acl recovery, you just make me a better person.”

She takes your hand in hers, caressing your skin with her thumb and looks you directly in the eyes which at this point were working hard to not well up. “I guess what i’m trying to say is-“ She reaches into her pants pocket pulling out the familiar black velvet box. “-Will you marry me?”

As she says those four words, she opens the box and looks down at it, doing a double take as she sees its empty - the ring no where to be seen. “What the fuck, where’s the pissing ring.” Colour is draining from her face at this point as she stands up and frantically starts pacing. “You’ve got to be shitting me, the one day i need things to go smoothly.”

“Do you mean this ring?” You held up a ring with an oval diamond at the centre of it. Leah looked dumbfounded “How-how did you-“ The blonde was at a loss for words.

“Lee you dropped it twice during dinner - i even passed it to you once.” You giggled as you passed her the ring back “Did you?”

“See, you’ve been so uptight you didn’t even realise.” Standing up, you wrapped your arms around her neck, moving closer so that your faces were inches apart. “But my answer is yes.” you say barely above a whisper.

“yes?” at this point you thought you’d broke your poor girlfriend. “Yes i’ll marry you idiot.” Pressing your lips onto hers, you emerged yourselves into a deep kiss filled with passion.

Your now fiancé slipped the ring into your finger, admiring the ring and then you. She picked you up, twirling you around out of pure happiness and relief.

“Now how about dessert?” You winked and tugged her towards the bedroom.

liked by lucybronze and 2,086,773 others

leahwilliamson introducing future mrs williamson

usera SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

chloekelly congratulations ❤️

userb y/n on that wag life

youruser whose to say it’s not gonna be ‘leah y/l/n’

leahwilliamson replying to youruser y/n williamson just sounds better

kierawalsh congrats lovebirds 😄❤️

liked by alessiarusso and 1,887,201 others

youruser imagine i said no

ellatoone 😍❤️

userc Y/N’s GETTING MARRIED IM DOING ROLYPOLYS

1maryearps congrats kiddo!

userd please the difference in her and leah’s captions

jodiemcomer so happy for you y/n, congrats X

#leah williamson x reader #lionesses #arsenal wfc #leah williamson #y/n #proposal #england lionesses #beth mead #instagram #man united wfc #arsenal women

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loko4koko · 8 months

Text

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ Gojo Satoru x f!reader ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

100 FOLLOWER MILESTONE CELEBRATION ✰

>fanart_credit: _3aem (via_twitter)

MDNI 18+

>word_count: 7293

>contents: slight crack (it’s a gojo fic what do u expect), established relationship, fake engagements, excessive use of “fiancé/fiancée”, satoru is DOWN BAD like ultra simp 3000 levels, kiiinda rich boy!gojo but like barely, gojo calls you “angel” and baby” a lot, cunnilingus, kinda feral!gojo too, multiple orgasms (f!receiving), multiple positions, explicit p in v, rough(ish) sex, creampie, gojo being a lil slut for you, itty bitty dacryphilia (if you squint mad hard)

there’s a standoff happening in your kitchen. a staring contest of sorts. the tension in the air is palpable, so thick you could taste it if you stuck out your tongue. your opponent is a worthy contender, giving just as good as it gets. your nose twitches with the intensity of it, eyes narrowed as you keep your gaze firm, focused.

your adversary in this battle? a red, velvet ring box.

god, it’s like it’s taunting you with it’s delicate heart shape. smug little box, just sitting on the dining table unopened. you’re not sure how long you’ve been caught in the orbit of this suspicious item, but it must’ve been quite a while, according to your boyfriend.

“babeee, i’ve been calling you! what’re you doing?” satoru appears from the direction of your bedroom, frown on his face from his belief that you’re purposely ignoring him. he slips behind you, arms around your torso as he leaves a kiss on the top of your head.

“oh,” he laughs as he fixes his eyes on what has you so engrossed, “it’s not what you think.”

this is what gets your attention, turning your head so your gaze is no longer on the little box, but on satoru instead. “what, you proposing to your other girlfriend or something?” you pout. he laughs again, annoyingly louder this time.

“baby, i’m not proposing to anybody yet. and you know i don’t have another girlfriend. it took me 3 years to get you to say yes to one date, you think i’m pulling that off again? thanks for putting faith into my game, though.” you can’t help but to roll your eyes in jest, turning in the man’s arms to wrap yourself around him.

“yeah, yeah, whatever. so…what is it then?”

“it’s a ring.”

“i thought you said you weren’t proposing…”

“okay well, technically, i am. but listen! i saw online some guy and his girlfriend went to different restaurants with a fake ring and when he ‘proposed’ to her, they gave them free food and desserts! so. we’re doing that.”

you pull yourself from satoru’s grasp, staring up at him blankly. he gives you a goofy smile in return, bringing a hand up to boop your nose when you remain silent.

“satoru….really? doing this just so you can get free chocolate lava cakes and ice cream? i’m definitely deleting tiktok from your phone, damn app gives you way too many ideas.” and there he goes frowning again, pretty pink lips downturned so dramatically.

“baby, no…i’m doing this so that WE can get free chocolate lava cakes and ice cream. what kind of selfish, evil man do you take me for? … and you’re not deleting my tiktok! how else am i going to send nanami videos he claims to not watch but always knows about when i ask him?”

a sigh leaves you as you shake your head, truly experiencing defeat. you, and everyone else that had ever met him for that matter, knew that there was no changing satoru’s mind when the words “free” and “dessert” were involved. he’d eat himself into a goddamn diabetic coma if you let him get away with it.

satoru enacts his master plan the next night, surprising you with a stunning new dress and a note that says to “look super sexy and marriageable (where the hell had he even learned that word?) as usual” left on your bed. you try your best to comply with his wishes, getting your makeup and hair as perfect as you can before slipping the very revealing dress on. you realize something rather odd while you doll yourself up; satoru hasn’t come home to get himself ready. it was almost 6pm, the time designated by him in his little note, and you were practically ready aside from some jewelry and shoes. you couldn’t imagine that he would make you wait while he showered and dressed, so you were a little bit confused, but you decide to brush it off while you pick between solid gold hoops and diamond-encrusted dangles, both courtesy of the man in question.

when 6:04pm rolls around, and your fancy yves saint laurent heels are wrapped around your feet, the front door opens. you look up from your seat at the kitchen island with a wine glass in hand, and, in the most cliché way possible, your breath is stolen right out of your lungs. satoru was always stupidly beautiful, just so gorgeous that it made you sick, but now? he looked even more alluring than usual. those inhumanly blue eyes were hidden behind his typical shades, masterfully tailored suit adorning his lanky form like it was painted on. his deep red button up, the same color as your cocktail dress, was unbuttoned for the first three (because he was a slut.) and to top it all off, he was wearing that same award winning smile that he’d dazzled you with so many years ago. if he wasn’t so set on his goddamn desserts, you’d bend over and spread your thighs for him right there on the counter.

“holy fuck,” is the first thing he says to you, grip on a bouquet of what looks like dark red carnations and burgundy roses tightening as he takes you in. he takes off his glasses as he draws in closer, pure reverence in his eyes the whole time. “angel, you look…you look fucking edible. my god. what a woman.” you’re not new to satoru’s comments and compliments, far from it, but tonight, they were hitting a little different, for lack of a better term. maybe it was the look in his eyes, some kind of compound of love and burning desire, but something else, too. something almost…determined, but you don’t know what he’d be determined to do other than put on a good show.

“so, eat me then,” you tease, though the heat in your cheeks and your eyes not meeting his gives away how flustered he’s got you. he’s still looking you over, scrutinizing every pretty inch of you with an overwhelming intensity before his steely gaze levels to yours.

“mm, tempting, but it’ll have to wait; we have to go get engaged first. these,” he holds the flowers out to you, “are yours, my arrestingly beautiful queen.” you can’t help but to laugh at his ultra-corny pet names, but they warm your heart nonetheless, rising from your stool to find a vase to fill with water.

“where were you, anyway? you show up all dressed to the nines on me out of nowhere. what, did you get ready in the car or something?” you ask, back to the white-haired man while you dig around in a cabinet.

“suguru helped me out, kept my suit and let me shower at his place..” he says, almost distantly. you can’t see it, but satoru is watching you, worshipping you with his eyes as you flit around the kitchen in your heels and your dress and your oh so seductive aura. he’s never seen anything or anyone be more mesmerizing in his life, and he knows he never will.

arriving at the first restaurant of the three satoru had planned has your nerves alighting. what if they knew you were faking it? god, how disgraceful that would be—caught in your goober of a boyfriend’s silly scheme would have you too embarrassed to show your face in public for at least two months. but then he smiles at you from the driver seat- a genuine one that eases your anxieties and soothes your concerns, one so brilliant that it instills you with the necessary confidence to go commit…whatever form of fraud this whole thing is. you give him one in return, reaching out to cup his cheek before you’re leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. you can feel him smile even wider when you do.

“so, how much do you want me to sell this? ‘cause, if i cry now, it might not be so believable at the next place.” satoru’s pushing in your chair when you speak, smoothing his hands down your shoulders before giving you a squeeze. he takes his own seat, flipping the menu open to browse through the beverage list.

“best as you can with no tears. gotta save those for the last one,” he tilts his glasses down to send you a wink, and, for the millionth time within your relationship, you’re light-heartedly rolling your eyes at him. “you got it, baby. but! if you don’t share whatever disgustingly sweet, sugar-stuffed, chocolate-drizzled, candy-coated bullshit you ask for, it’s gonna be your pretty little ass.” he laughs at your threat and throws his hands up in resignation. you might be smiling when you say it, but you surely aren’t joking, and he knows it.

you both decide to keep dinner small and light, knowing you’re going to gorge yourselves on whatever insulin-raising dishes your dear boyfriend chooses to indulge in. it’s not long after you put your fork down when he gives you ‘the look.’ you have to use all of your willpower not to smile, woosah-ing yourself into the role of an unsuspecting girlfriend about to be proposed to. you paint a look of surprise on your face when he gets down on one knee, giving you a charming little speech about how he’d “wanted to do this for so, so long” and how he “could never love another the way he loves you, never want to. so please baby, will you marry me?” it’s actually rather romantic, makes you wonder how close it all is to his true feelings for you.

you and satoru hardly ever explicitly talked about marriage, but he did always talk about how he wanted to be with you forever (or rather, that he’d jump off a bridge if you ever broke up with him, but that wasn’t as eloquent.) he’d mention plans of a big house he wanted to put you in, so he could come home to you and your warm embrace every day until he was old and wrinkly beside you. so, maybe not an outright “hey, we’re getting married some day,” but it was most definitely implied.

at the end of satoru’s little scripted scene, he pulls out that same heart-shaped ring box from the table, opening it up to showcase a square cut diamond, one you’re sure must be a piece of costume jewelry for the occasion. you gasp, climbing out of your seat to throw your arms around him with a “yes! yes, i’ll marry you!” he picks you up, standing back up to his full height as he delicately sways you back and forth. you share a kiss, one you let a few secret giggles into, before you part, allowing your boyfriend the pleasure of sliding the ring onto your finger. the patrons of the restaurant that’d been watching the spectacle all clap at what they believe to be a genuine display of affection, including your waiter from his station near the kitchen. it’s a lot of attention, but being with someone that looks like (and acts like, and is) satoru means you’re relatively used to stares and whispers. he gives you one more sloppy smooch before he’s helping you back into your seat, giving a bow of thanks to the other customers before he’s sitting, too.

when the waiter comes back to offer up your grand prize, with eyes dampened from your well-acted performance, satoru keeps it simple and orders a non-nauseating plate of assorted mochi ice cream. and when it comes to the table, he plucks one of the cold, sweet little treats in between his long fingertips and reaches his equally lengthy arm across the table to feed it to you with not a lick of selfishness. fuck the dessert, he’d share the entire moon with you if it was in his possession.

“babe, we fucking killed that. that lady? in the black blouse? she was crying, like, actually crying! i almost feel bad, but that mochi was to die for, so i’d say it was a worthy crime.” you jabber excitedly on your walk back to the car, hand in hand with your stage fiancé. he’s staring down at you as you prattle on, knows he should be watching where he’s going but fuck, you’re so stunning and you go along with his admittedly very childish desires for free sweets and yeah, he really is so whipped, it’s not even funny. he’d never deny it, either—the man who carries multiple pictures of you in his wallet and as his phone background, the man who gives you massages and shares from his candy stash when you’re on your period, the one who can’t get mad at you when you fall asleep on him during a movie he really wanted to see? there’d be an ice-cold day in hell before that man—the only gojo satoru—ever denies being hopelessly, foolishly, irrevocably in love with you.

the second restaurant that you and satoru pull your scheme on is a tad bit more upscale than the first—not to say the first eatery wasn’t upscale, would never be the case with your luxury loving boyfriend—and you absorb your surroundings from your place on the man’s arm while he checks your reservation in with the maître d. for this place, as fancy as it is, you think you’ll tone down the theatrics, keep it a little classier this time around. you don’t want to embarrass yourself or satoru with some overly acted performance that screamed fake. the suited man behind the counter leads you to a table, not smack-dab in the middle of the dining area but not very secluded either, something perfect for the exhibition you were going to put on.

“you know, you’re setting me up for some very high expectations, ‘toru,” you speak from behind your wine glass, eyes on what would be his if it weren’t for the glasses he still wears. he looks up from his menu, head tilted inquisitively.

“is that so?”

“mhm. that ring you got looks nice, but you’ve spoiled me. i’m gonna need one way bigger now. and,” you pause, taking another swig from your glass, “you’ll have to really surprise me. i mean, this restaurant is really nice, but if you keep this up, we’re gonna run out of fancy restaurants for you to actually propose to me in. there’re only so many, y’know.” your tone is coated in sarcasm, but satoru doesn’t laugh. instead, he smirks, closing his menu and placing it to the side.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about that, sweet girl. you’ll be very surprised when it happens.”

the meal is delicious, as expected, and your plates are cleared soon after. satoru’s laughing at a story you have about your neighbor’s adorable little kitty cat that keeps trying to sneak into your apartment while he pours you another glass of an unnecessarily expensive wine he insisted on.

“are you ready?” he asks when you finish, and you give him a short nod, quick to prepare yourself again for the false astonishment you have to give and the onslaught of eyes that were soon to be on the two of you.

he reaches across the table to take your left hand in his, eyes peering up at you over his glasses when he leans down to press his lips against your ring finger.

“i love you,” he murmurs before he’s up and out of his seat. he approaches your side of the table but he doesn’t do his part of getting down on one knee yet, opting instead to cup your cheek with a hold so gentle you’d assume he thought you were made of glass.

“i mean it, i really do love you more than anything in this world.” you don’t have time to respond to the declaration before he’s descending to his knee, taking your hand yet again as he gives you another speech. this one is different than the last, but just as full of genuine love.

“you make my days worth living, baby. you make the sun look like a streetlight in comparison to how much you light up my life. you’re so funny, so smart, so generous, and you put up with the…less than favorable parts of my personality with very minimal complaints.” he says that last part with a little bit of disdain and it has you giggling in a way no one else can bring out of you, despite your slightly glossy eyes. “my perfect girl, will you marry me?”

and there it is, the ring box you’d been waiting to see since you stepped into this establishment full of onlookers. he opens the box and slides the ring onto your finger before he even gets your verbal answer, but it doesn’t matter because you’re nodding and smiling like a damn idiot, as if it’s real. you try not to dwell on that thought for long.

“of course i’ll marry you, satoru.” he carefully pulls you up out of your chair and cups your face again, this time with both hands, lips against yours in a kiss much more serious than the last time you did this. there’s more applause following suit, but you can’t pay attention to anyone but satoru, who’s kissing you so deeply that the restaurant could be burning to a crisp and you would be none the wiser. when you part, he’s grinning, a little bit from the wine buzz and a lot from the adrenaline of proposing to his gorgeous girlfriend, staged as it was.

your waitress is quick to congratulate you both, and when she mentions the one thing that satoru came here for—that goddamned free dessert—he lets you choose. but you’re so generous, his sweet little sweetheart, just like he said in his speech, and you pick something sugar-stuffed, and chocolate drizzled, and so fucking satoru that it makes your teeth ache. you’re always, always, thinking about him, and he loves you all the more for it.

when you get to the last restaurant/soon-to-be victim of theft of services, you’re feeling very practiced in the art of deception. the tears you were able to evoke out of the unknowing guests, and the ones satoru almost pulled out of you had you unwaveringly confident in both your own and satoru’s level of skill as thespians this time around.

this place is a far cry from the previous two and you can tell before you even step foot inside, the architectural marvel of a building radiating the energy of one of those “sorry, we’re booked 3 years in advance” kind of places. you have no doubt that satoru could get in anywhere if he wanted to, though- the man was quick to offer bribes well into the range of some people’s entire salaries. if he wanted something, he was unrelenting, tenacious even—traits you admired greatly about him.

the moment you step inside, you start to feel a little swell of anxiety. this was..intense. the lighting was much more moody, with floor to ceiling windows giving the diners a view of a beautiful garden, lush with greenery. you and satoru had dined well before, but this was something entirely different. he leads you to the reception desk where another maître d, not dissimilar to the one before, greets you with an air of extreme professionalism. satoru gives the man his name, and you’re left a little confused when his eyes widen in what you think is surprise. he gives your boyfriend a quick nod before he dashes off, and you try not to focus too much on how expensive this place must be or why satoru would come here of all places for a free dessert, but it’s hard not to. the wall behind the reception desk is practically covered in plaques of awards, the words “michelin star” and “winner of..” plastered on most of them. you know those aren’t easily earned, so you try to think less about the exorbitant cost you know your boyfriend is paying, instead doing your best to enjoy this probably once-in-a-lifetime dining experience.

the man from before returns, with another more sharply dressed man, who grins wide when he sees satoru and yourself. he shakes your man’s hand firmly, giving a nod of his head in the direction of the dining area. the restaurant is gorgeous, past that really, but a little under-populated for satoru’s plan to have it’s most effectiveness. besides, what’s the point of a fake proposal if no one is gonna see it?

you mention your previous thoughts to satoru once you’re seated, but he just gives you a smile and says “don’t worry about anything other than enjoying yourself.”

so you don’t. you reminisce on funny, and sometimes embarrassing stories about your past with satoru—sharing laughter, and food you can’t fucking pronounce, and glasses of ridiculously high-priced alcohol.

“you’re the most wonderful woman in the world, angel,” he muses some time down the line, “thank you. i don’t fucking deserve you.” his words have you putting your glass down, reaching across the table to mirror his earlier actions by taking his hand, with your face set into a frown.

“i don’t like it when you say things like that, satoru. you do deserve me..because i say you do. you’re not- you’re not hard to love, satoru; it’s actually very, very easy. and i love loving you, and i’m gonna keep doing it every fucking day that you’ll have me. okay? so none of that,” you say, squeezing his much larger hand in your own.

“what if i wanted to have you forever?” he asks, eyes still hidden behind those increasingly unnecessary glasses. the restaurant is far more dimly lit than the first two, but the urge to complain comes only from how much you miss looking into those dazzling blue pools.

“well, i’d give you forever and then some. you’re not getting rid of me, ‘toru,” you grin, taking the stem of your glass between the fingers of your free hand and lifting it to your lips. satoru follows the movement behind his shades, watches how the delicate line of your throat bobs with your swallowing with a sort of reverie that is usually described in religious texts. he’d pray for you, pray to you, anything. he’d learn how to sculpt just so your beauty could be immortalized for all of eternity.

satoru says your name and you hum, quick to swallow down the rest of your sake before giving him a sweet smile with your eyebrows raised.

“i hope you meant what you said—about forever.” you’re about to ask him what his foreboding words mean but you’re interrupted by none other than satoru himself, rising from his seat for the third and final time this evening to bring himself down to one knee. you’re about to laugh and quietly chide him for not giving you time to prepare for the show when you hear the sound of a piano, looking over your shoulder to see a man sitting at the once unmanned instrument. you turn further still and see that all of the staff has crowded around the edges of the room, all holding intricately crafted bouquets of..dark red carnations and burgundy roses, much like the one he’d given you, both granting you space but still wanting to watch the grand gesture that your boyfriend prepared.

“satoru, what’s….did you call ahead or something? this is…kind of a lot for a dessert i could make you at home..” he smiles and shakes his head at your endearing ignorance to the situation, reaching up to pull his glasses off for the first time all night. those eyes that you missed so much, they were rimmed with a faint redness. you couldn’t help but act on your instincts, reaching out to cup his face in your careful—caring—hands. you don’t get the chance to ask him what has him tearing up so much before he starts, a speech entirely new leaving his lips.

“if you think that loving me is easy, then loving you is child’s play. loving you is…one of the greatest gifts that i have ever or could ever be granted. you don’t always see it, and i like it that way, but sometimes—a lot of times—i look at you like you created the heavens and the earth. you are the heavens and the earth to me. you’re everything to me. your laugh alone could cure me of any ails. i don’t know what i did to make such a beautiful, loving, gentle, smart, hilarious, talented woman fall in love with my stupid ass, but fuck, baby, i thank the universe every day for you. you give me purpose. you give me strength. you give me the want to continue, when it feels like there’s no fight left in me.”

your eyes shimmer with unshed tears, lips parted in genuine shock that you hadn’t expected to feel tonight. you spare another glance at the staff before bringing your gaze back to satoru, voice caught in your throat and tongue heavy in your mouth.

“satoru, if- if you’re playing with me..if you’re doing this for your damn dessert, i-“

“no, baby, this- this is real. you are…the most exceptional person i know. you love me in a way that i didn’t know was possible before you came into my life. i’m so goddamn unworthy of you, but you chose me, and i swear, that for the rest of my life—the rest of our life—i’ll never let you down. please, angel. please make me the most blessed man on the planet and marry me?”

satoru reaches into the pocket of his suit pants as you stare in amazement, mascara tears fully running down your cheeks now. the ring box in his grasp is much different than the one from your faux-engagements—it’s black, shaped like an oval with silver ornamental designs around the perimeter. and when he opens it, your lip begins to quiver.

the ring is something so uniquely satoru, a thin silver band that splits into multiple vine-like channels, with little diamonds attached for the appearance of flowers. they meet at the top where the stone resides, and fuck, it’s big. it’s aquamarine, with several little prongs holding it’s marquise shape in place. it must’ve cost a fortune, and you can’t help but marvel at it as satoru takes your hand in his own again, lips against your ring finger one last time before he’s slipping the delicate piece of jewelry onto your finger.

“i need you to say it, angel. say you’ll marry me,” he pleads, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit space. you can’t hold back the sob that leaves you, nodding vigorously as you caress his face.

“yes, ‘toru, i’ll marry you.” you say through the tears, pressing your salt-covered lips to his. there’s applause behind you, just like the other “engagements,” but this time, you don’t need them there. you’d have said yes to him if it was 3 in the morning and you were half asleep, you’d have said it in the car on the way to the grocery store. you’d say yes to him anywhere, at any time.

true to satoru’s word, he doesn’t bother with the free dessert this time around. he’s too busy thinking about going home and getting a taste of his fiancée to bother with some fancy piece of cake. and he almost doesn’t make it home, pressing you up against the car with his right hand on the side of your face and the other on your waist. he kisses you so voraciously, like if he tried just that much harder, he could swallow you whole.

“satoru, stop!” you giggle against his ravenous mouth, “a public indecency charge wouldn’t be a great start to our engagement, you think?”

“i can’t help it. my fiancée just looks so good, i don’t think anybody’d blame me if i hiked your dress up right here,” he says, leaning his head down onto your shoulder to leave a kiss or two on the bare skin. you gently push him away, coy look in your eyes when you meet his own.

“at home, the dress comes all the way off.”

satoru has you both in the car with the keys in the ignition and the gearshift in ‘drive’ within 14 seconds.

the front door to your apartment is solid wood, and it’s cold against your back where satoru has, yet again, found a surface to press you up against. you barely made it three steps inside before he was on you, groping and squeezing anything his reach would allow. his lips are sweet where they meet yours, kinda like how they always are, from all the desserts and wines he’d indulged himself in. and somewhere in there, a taste that’s wholly satoru resides. it’s your favorite flavor. his tongue never asks permission to enter your mouth—it just does, licking up every bit of you that’s on offer, and it never satisfies his appetite.

“what was that you said earlier, baby? you want me to eat you, right?” he says between his desperate kisses and fuck, when did everything get so hot all of a sudden? the hand you have on his shoulder slinks up, coming to find its place in the short hairs of his undercut, and when you scrape your nails against his scalp he sighs into your mouth.

“you’re not too full from your desserts?” you tease breathily but it cuts into a gasp of surprise when he yanks your dress up and shoves his hand under the bunched fabric to rip your panties off, only to find your bare skin at his fingertips.

“oh, fuck- no panties, baby? y’want me ta eat that pretty pussy this bad?” he doesn’t wait for an answer, snatching your lips up in a quick, biting kiss that leaves you dizzy. he drops to his knees—funny how much he’s done that today—and lifts your dress further, gathering the material up at your waist. the way satoru marvels at your pussy is something he’d always done but fuck, can you blame him? you get so wet and you taste like the world’s rarest delicacy on his tongue and you’re so fucking warm and tight when he digs you out—he’d sing hymns about your pussy from the top of a mountain.

“my pretty fiancée givin’ me such easy access…such a sweet girl you are,” he praises with a kiss to your mound, “so fucking good t’me.” but he’s just as good to you—especially now, as he spreads your thighs and hikes one of your legs over his shoulder, unhesitatingly dipping his tongue in between your soaking wet folds. the contact of the slippery muscle on your sensitive flesh has you mewling, eyes slipping shut as he feasts on you. his mouth is as slick as it is when he’s talking, stroking his tongue up and down from your clit to your hole, and back again.

“fffuck- satoru..” you whimper, subconsciously grinding your hips into his face. he doesn’t mind, though- actually he encourages it; he loves it when you use him for your pleasure, makes him feel good to make you feel good. and that rings especially true now, as he stiffens his tongue and slides it into your aching hole that’s been clenching around nothing this entire time. he fucks you with it, much like he does with his cock- giving you a mix of slow and fast thrusts and keeping you on your toes. his large hands smooth up your thighs before one sneaks away to aid in him pulling you apart. his thumb finds your clit, massaging the little button in circles and you almost lose your balance, your hand flying out to grip onto his snow-like hair. your little mewls act as encouragement for the man between your legs; he’s studied you—your body—for years, and how each little flick and roll and curl of his tongue or fingers brings you closer and closer to cumming all over him. and he uses that knowledge so freely, long tongue prodding and pressing further and further into you, tip of the muscle kissing your g-spot.

satoru knows you, knows that when your thighs shake and your breathing turns to panting, he’s got you right where he wants you. you confirm that for him, when you look down at him to see those sparkling blue eyes staring back up at you and you moan “god, fuck- ‘toru, please baby, don’t stop, gonna cum f’you.” he’s ever so obedient, thumb moving in faster circles around your clit and his unrelenting tongue fucking into you just as quick. he keeps his gaze glued to your face because you look so goddamn pretty when you cum that he can’t bear to miss it. and he doesn’t, watching lustfully as your head sinks back against the door, hips stuttering as he licks the orgasm right out of you.

“out of all the meals i’ve had tonight,” satoru starts, lips shiny with your release when you open your eyes again, “you’re the most delicious.” you’d laugh at how corny he is, but your mind still hasn’t come fully back to you yet. satoru rises back to his normal stature of towering over you, even in your heels, and he can’t help but to dip his head down and kiss you. all those same flavors from before are muted behind the taste of you, and you almost hate to admit it, but you like that a lot.

“i need to be inside of you, baby,” satoru sighs into the kiss, leaning down to wrap his big hands around your outer thighs, and you get the idea quickly, letting him pick you up so you can wrap your legs around his hips. he carries you off to the bedroom, laying you down on the plush comforter that covers your bed. you sit back on your elbows and toe your heels off, eyes following his movements as he takes off his blazer.

“god, you look-“

“fuckable?”

“very.”

“so, what are you waiting for? fuck me, fiancé.”

he takes your invitation with fire in his eyes, moving in close to undo whatever horrid contraptions are keeping you clothed. when he gets the zipper down, he’s practically ripping you out of the dress, tossing the expensive garment off somewhere behind him. he’s pulling his own clothes off just as quickly, and when he gets his pants down you can’t help but to feel him through his black boxer briefs. he’s so hard, and he’s leaking like a goddamn faucet, the wet spot you feel near his tip growing larger and larger. he’s groaning against your neck as you touch him, pushing his hips into your palm desperately. but then he decides that he can’t take the teasing and the waiting anymore, so he’s sitting up on his haunches to shove his boxers down his thighs. he doesn’t even get them fully off before he’s grabbing your calf and dragging you towards him, gripping the base of his painfully stiff cock to line it up with your sopping pussy hole.

“ohmy-GOD, fuck- ah! satoru, slow downnnn!!” you gasp, crying out for him as he slams into you with no warning and sets a pace that could rival a jackrabbit.

“s-sorry, baby, jus’ need you- need you so fucking bad, shit- hnnng, fuuuck,” he moans, gripping your hips tight as he keeps hammering into you. you can’t keep your eyes open as much as you’d like to—satoru always looks so angelic when he’s flushed and panting from the vice-like grip your pussy has on him—but it’s okay, because he moans like a bitch in heat when he’s fucking you and that’s all you need. your nails are digging into whatever they can find, one hand twisted up in the blanket and the other pressed against satoru’s flexing abs as if you’re trying to stop him, but you both know that’s not true.

“so. fucking. wet.” he groans, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. he’s so deep inside that you know you’d feel him if you touched your belly, and the thought has tears of pleasure spilling down to your temples and into your hair.

“y-you feel so fucking good- ah- mmm- look so p-pretty taking my cock like this,” he whines, one hand leaving your hip to find your throat. he doesn’t add pressure, doesn’t squeeze, just lets his hand rest there like he needed to ground himself. he finds himself angling his hips just a little differently, and only a moment later, he knows he’s got it when your teary eyes shoot open and you scream his name.

“right there, angel? my fiancée likes it t-there?” he teases, trying his hardest to keep some composure but fuck, it’s so hard when you clench that tight cunt of yours and suck him deeper and deeper.

“yeeessss,” you sob, “please! feels..so good…love you so much, love the way you fuck me..” satoru moans with you, snaking a hand under your lower back to arch you a little more, and the slight change of position has him hitting your g-spot head on with his merciless thrusts. you cum, wordlessly and unexpectedly, and satoru’s eyes widen as he looks down to see the ring of your cream that covers the base of his cock.

“ohhhh f-fuck yeah, angel, cream all over my dick, ‘s all yours, always- always yours,” he gasps.

he brings you fully into his lap and your arms instinctively curl around his neck, your head falling back as he bounces you on his cock that’s impaling you. you’re both covered in sweat now, and your slick, too—it leaks down around satoru’s dick and onto your thighs. the eye contact he makes with you in this moment is hard to look away from, so you don’t—eyes locked with his while you pant and moan and whimper his name. he does the same right back to you, choking out declarations of his love interspersed with your own name.

soon, the position changes again, when you use the little strength you have left to push satoru onto his back with your hands splayed out on his chest. he groans in surprise, sliding his hands up your hips to hold onto your waist. your gaze shifts between his blissed-out face and the sparkling stone that rests on your finger, grinding against him nice and slow.

“does this feel good, satoru?” you don’t mean for the question to come out as seductive as your tone does, but it has his hips bucking up into you nonetheless. his eyes open to find yours and he nods, digging his fingers into your flesh more when you ride him harder, roll your hips a little faster.

“f-fuck, feels like heaven, baby..keep- mmf, keep fucking me like t-that,” he answers, and you’re his sweet girl, his giving little angel, so you do. you keep fucking him just like that, pulling yourself up and dropping back down on the lengthy cock inside of you. your ass smacks against his thighs on the landing, and it joins your ragged breathing and satoru’s huffs as the only sounds in the room. he can’t help but to meet your hips with his own thrusts, not keen on taking the reigns back but adding to the insurmountable pleasure you both feel.

“will you cum with me? please, ‘toru- need to feel you..” god, how could he ever deny you when you ask so sweetly, one hand still on his chest and the other on yours, palming at your tit with a pinch of your pert nipple every now and then. his brow is furrowed—plush lips parted with his moans and he’s nodding in response again.

“yeah, baby, yeah- ‘m so fucking- hah- c-close.” a look of focus forms in his eyes when one of his hands slips down from your waist, nimble fingers toying with your sensitive clit. your moans rise in pitch and volume, heart pounding in your chest as you get closer and closer to the edge. you can practically feel him pulsing inside of you, know he’s almost there too, and you ride with more determination, tits bouncing with the effort. he looks so desperate from his position beneath you, desperate to cum, desperate to fill you to the brim with his hot load. you’re left gasping, shouts of his name torn right from your throat when he plants his feet into the mattress and starts to thrust up into you, fingers still pinching and pulling at your engorged nub. he fucks into you so roughly, eyes shifting between the spot where you conjoin, watching raptly as his cock slides in and out of your hole, and your sweet face, mouth hung open and tear streaks on your cheeks. both are a pretty sight to him.

“‘m gonna cum, ‘toru- cum for me, too, need it inside me so fucking bad,” you whimper, and you weren’t lying. only a few more thrusts and some circles rubbed onto your clit and you’re crying his name, creaming all over his cock again. and satoru can’t hold off anymore, doesn’t want to, and the way you clench and squeeze him makes that an impossible feat anyway. he stills his hips the best he can but they still stutter with the intensity of his orgasm, letting out rope after rope after rope of his sticky fluid inside of your needy little hole.

you roll off of him when you get the strength to do it, still panting with the exertion. but satoru is clingy, even more so after sex; so with your eyes closed, you don’t see it, but rather feel the man’s hands tugging you close. he drapes his sweat-sticky body around yours, nuzzling his face into your neck where he leaves a few cheeky kisses.

“thank you.” it’s silent for a while before he speaks, and the words have you cracking your eyes open to look at him. he’s already beaten you to the punch, wide blue eyes looking up at you.

“for what?” you respond, bringing your hand up to smooth his hair down. he practically purrs at the sensation, but he answers you regardless.

“for saying yes to me, to forever.”

the snort that comes out of you is unintentional, but you can’t help it. he sounds silly thanking you for that, so you tell him as much.

“satoru, you make it sound like you had to bribe me into being with you when you say things like that. y’know, i meant what i said, about you being stuck with me. couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, baby. this just makes it..more official.”

“guess that’s true, huh?”

“you’re damn right. and when we get married, i’m going to use my new powers for evil.”

“what??”

“oh, yeah. i’m gonna terrorize everyone. pranks galore. and i’ll tell them gojo did it. and they’ll just assume it was mr. gojo, not the kind and sweet mrs. gojo.”

satoru’s jaw drops, sitting up to gape at you. you just shrug in response, smiling innocently at your soon to be husband. he shakes his head, deep in thought for a moment before he grins, eyes hard set on you.

“what?” you ask, playfully narrowing your own eyes.

“i think i want to marry you tomorrow.”

>authors_note: WELL. it’s finally here (took me long enough i knowwwww🤫) ENDLESS THANKS FOR 100 (we’re almost at 200 now but let’s cross that bridge when we get there heheh)

>next up: firefighter!satosugu (after like 3 months of me talking about it IM SORRYYY)

>thank you for reading ♡︎

>masterlist.exe

>send a request here!

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader

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strang3lov3 · 1 year

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Everyday I'm Shufflin'

Joel Miller x Fem Reader

Summary: Joel is shocked, horrified, disgusted, and absolutely appalled to learn you, an adult, cannot shuffle a deck of cards. He makes it his mission to teach you in a rather unconventional way 😈🔥😍

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smutttt, kind of soft dom! Joel (y’all know the fuckin drill, but this is like the softest soft dom), oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, undefined age gap, unprotected PIV sex, Joel is a sweetie honestly, loosely proofread bc I was so excited to get it out to you guys.

Word Count: 6k (oops)

A/N: Dumb title I know…but listen ladies…I was playing Gin Rummy with my man a few nights ago and he tried to teach me how to shuffle a deck of cards. I have never been so turned on watching him do something so simple. His hands were so skillful, his voice was so smooth and comfortinggggg

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How you learned to shuffle a deck of cards was rather…unorthodox. To say the least.

It started with a game of Gin Rummy.

Joel read once long ago that when shuffling a deck of cards, it is statistically more than likely that the particular order of shuffled cards never existed before and will never exist again.

Joel had played enough games of Solitaire by himself and shuffled enough cards over the past twenty-odd years that he was sure he beat that statistic. What else is there to do when you’re bored as shit in the apocalypse?

It was safe to say Joel was more than sick of Solitaire. So one morning at breakfast, he invited you to join him for a few games of cards. Nothin’ fancy, he said.

You said yes, of course. Joel Miller was distant, reserved. Standoffish, even. But he seemed to have a soft spot for you.

He noticed you sitting alone at dinner about a year and a half ago. He was alone too, Ellie usually ate with Dina. She was too cool for him, he guessed. You looked quite a few years younger than him and looked bored and lonely, nudging and poking at the food on your plate. It made him feel sad.

The next day, you were alone again. And the day after. And the day after that. On day five when he found you sitting alone, he decided to make his move. Instead of going to his usual spot at the end of the banquet tables, he sat across from you.

You looked at him with your eyebrows raised in confusion. “Can I help you?”

He didn’t think it through. He had no idea what to say, no idea how to make conversation. How to explain why he was sitting there. “I just, uh. My juvenile delinquent ditched me. Just wanted some company. I’m sorry, this was dumb,” his voice was gruff and low as he reached for his plate and began to stand up. “I’ll leave ya alone.”

“No, no. Stay,” you corrected yourself. “I didn’t mean to come off rude or anything, you just surprised me. Joel, right? Tommy’s brother?”

He nodded yes. You gave him your name and held out your hand. “Nice to meet you, Joel,”

“You as well, darlin’,” he took your hand in his and gave it a firm shake. His hand was warm and calloused.

And that’s how it started. You hit it off completely. Conversation was slow and awkward at first, but eventually it began to flow naturally. Joel was older, but the type of person you could talk to for hours. Like when you talk about your favorite food or movie and hours later you’re laughing about something random and obscure, and you wonder to yourself how you even ended up on that subject. You met for breakfast and dinner every day.

“So I’ve got a proposal for you, darlin’,” he said, taking a bite of his buttered toast.

“Pray tell, Mr. Miller!” you requested, a curious tone in your voice.

“I’m sick of solitaire. Been playin’ it every damn day for too long now. Come over for cards tonight?”

You paused, pressing your lips in a thin line. Card games weren’t really your thing. You remember Tommy and Maria and how they tried to teach you euchre a while back. It didn’t end well, you left with a migraine and no understanding of how to play euchre. But there were a few games you enjoyed. “Depends. It’s not euchre, is it?”

“Nope. That’s four players, sweetheart,” he informed.

“Poker? Because I don’t know that one either,”

Joel rolled his eyes. He’d have to teach you that one sometime. “No, not poker,” he chuckled when you let out a sigh of relief. “Tell you what, we’ll do any game you want. I’m just sick of playin’ with myself,'' Joel balked, then winced at his poor word choice. He absolutely did not mean to say that.

Your eyes widened in amusement at his silly word mishap. Now that must be a sight for sore eyes, Joel playing with himself. You tried to push the image out of your mind, but it was nearly impossible. You spent many nights with your hand between your thighs, picturing Joel naked and moaning on top of you. Or under you. Or behind you. Sometimes all three. The truth was, you needed Joel badly. Like, desperately. “Tired of playing with yourself, huh?” you teased with a smile and a playful glint in your eyes.

Joel pouted, the slightest tint of rosiness blooming on his cheeks. You idiot, he scolded himself silently. “Shut up, smartass. Are you comin’ over or not?”

“Duh. Ellie gonna be there?”

“Probably not. It’ll be just us, most likely. Is that alright?”

“Yeah, of course,” you smiled. Finally, real alone time with Joel. Maybe tonight you could make your move. You hoped that Joel thought about you too. You caught his lingering stares, picked up on his cautious flirting. He could be so sweet and so charming, it had to be because he liked you too, right? But he was from Texas, so maybe it was just his southern gentlemanliness. Either way, it was worth a shot.

“Let’s meet here for dinner like usual, and then we can go over to my place. That work?”

You smiled and nodded, trying to keep cool. Excitement was bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

“Then it’s a date,”

A date!!

After breakfast, you went home and spent most of the day picking out a cute outfit for the evening. You went through nearly every piece of clothing in your possession, eventually settling for your favorite pair of jeans, a tank top, and a zip up hoodie. Casual.

Dinner came and went as normal. Joel was dressed as his usual self. A dark red flannel and some jeans that hugged his ass a little too nicely. You shared a good conversation, and when you finished eating, Joel took your dishes away and then met you at the door.

You walked side by side until you got to his home. It was cozy and inviting, Ellie’s drawings displayed prominently on the walls. Little tchotchkes and knick knacks here and there. A few old pictures, old books and magazines. His weathered deck of Bicycle playing cards sat in the middle of the dining room table.

Joel pulled out a seat for you and brought you a glass of water. He sat right next to you on the other side of the table. “So,” he started, reaching for the deck. He split the cards in two, braced his fingers along their sides and ran his thumbs from bottom to top. The cards fell in a swift and staggering motion. Effortlessly, he brought the cards up and bent them into an arch, letting them fall. “What card game we playin?”

“I was thinking we could play Gin Rummy?” you asked sweetly.

“Good choice,” he replied. He had some other games in mind, but couldn’t say no to your request. Joel dealt the cards expertly, quickly placing ten cards each in front of yourselves. The thwap thwap thwap of the cards hitting the table was such a pleasant noise. You loved how skillfully he moved his hands.

You brought your cards to yourself, doing your best to sort them into different groups. Unfortunately, Joel gave you the shittiest hand he possibly could have. This would be a swift game, you assumed. Joel snickered when he sorted his cards. By the looks of it, he already had the beginnings of a few good sets and melds. “Gonna kick your ass, darlin’,”

You grumbled in response. Joel flipped the first card up, motioning for you to make your choice. You couldn’t do much with it, so you passed. Joel took it, then discarded one of his own. You were right. The game went by quickly. Within minutes of playing, Joel showed you his hand. He had, in fact, kicked your ass. He was smiling and giggling and bragging, almost how a child would. You loved the way his eyes sparkled and the crinkles that framed them just so. He was too handsome for his own good.

He took your cards and placed them neatly in with the rest of the deck, then placed the deck in front of you. “Your turn to deal. We’re playin’ again,”

“Good. It’s about time I deal. You gave me the crappiest hand you possibly could’ve!” you laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. I purposely gave you a shitty hand because I need to rig the game in order to win. Or maybe I’m just better than you,” he taunted with a smile. He could be such a sarcastic prick at times. You rolled your eyes in response and Joel pointed to the cards. “Deal for me now, sweetheart.”

This is when all hell broke loose.

You took the cards in your hand, doing an awkward shuffle. Moving some cards sporadically here and there and mixing them on the table. It wasn’t the prettiest way to shuffle cards, but it worked. Right?

No, not right. Not according to Joel.

His jaw dropped, eyes squinted and his brow furrowed. He is completely and utterly appalled. Disgusted. Horrified. Offended. “What the fuck is the matter with you? What are you doing to my cards?!”

You stopped your actions. “What?” you asked worriedly.

“My cards! That’s how you’re shufflin’ them? Is this some kind of joke?” his southern accent intensified with his anger.

You looked down at his cards. None were bent or damaged in any way. “Joel, it’s fine,” you chided. “You’re so dramatic.”

“No, it is not fine. You mean to tell me this is how you shuffle cards?”

“Yeah, so?” Joel scoffed. “Unacceptable,” he takes the cards from you, huffing and puffing as he sorts them into a neat stack. “You’re an adult. Do it the right way.”

You give it your best shot. Trying to picture the way he shuffled, you mimic his finger placement and drop the cards, sliding your thumbs along the top edges. They don’t stagger nicely, however. They kind of plop on top of each other in groups.

Joel sighs in disappointment. He takes them from you in a sharp motion. “Give me those,” he grumbles. “You don’t know how to shuffle?” You shake your head no. “Gonna teach you, then.”

He splits the deck in two, then faces the cards so they’re mirroring each other, just like before. “Like this, darlin’,” he starts. “You place your pinkie, middle, and ring fingers at the far end. Pointer is bent at the knuckle on top, thumbs at the close end,” He shows you his hand placement, turning the cards so you can see all angles. “See?”

Joel is rambling about hand placement and how to move your thumbs. But you can’t help it. You’re practically salivating watching him move his fingers so skillfully. As he’s explaining how to slide your thumbs slowly up the cards, you’re picturing his thumb on your hot center, slowly sliding up your folds.

“You try now,” he sets the deck down in front of you.

Shit. You can’t remember a thing about what he told you. He helps you move your fingers properly and you freeze, your brain is short circuiting. His fingers are pure electricity on top of yours.

You take a breath and try again. Somehow, it’s worse than before.

“No, like this,” Joel takes the cards and begins rambling about the cards again. Now you’re watching his middle three fingers, wondering how they would feel inside you. How would they stretch you, how would they move? He’s so fucking good at this. It turns you on.

Joel says something, but you don’t answer. He looks at you, noticing your glazed eyes. You’re on another planet. “Are you even listening to me?” “What?” he breaks your trance. You meet his eyes, his eyebrows are raised and he looks rather irritated with you. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry,” you smile sheepishly.

“What’d I say?”

“You said,” you begin, trailing off when you can’t think of a good lie. He caught you, you weren’t listening at all. You couldn’t repeat a single one of his instructions.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” Joel’s words are bitter and he feels upset. He thought this would be a nice way to spend some alone time with you, and you couldn’t give less of a shit about tonight. It’s jarring, he didn’t expect this from you and it stings him.

“No! Of course not, Joel. I’m sorry,” Oops. Probably shouldn’t have been fantasizing about what his fingers could do to you. Rookie mistake, that’s the first rule of learning to shuffle a deck of cards! Never fantasize about your teacher’s fingers!

“Then what is it?”

You hem and haw, rattling off whatever you can think of to answer him. He’s not satisfied and you can see it. His brow is flat and he wears a frown of disappointment.

“Quit lyin’. If you’re bored, just say so. Won’t hurt my feelings,” Lies. Joel’s heart is crumbling at the thought of you being bored of game night. He’d actually been planning on inviting you for a while, and finally gathered the courage today.

“I’m having fun with you,” you stammer for a second, “I promise.”

“Yeah. Seems like it,”

You groan and bury your head in your hands. There’s no way out of this. You have to tell him what’s really going on. “Fine, Joel. You want the truth?”

“Yes, I do. Enlighten me,” he deadpans.

“Fine,” you inhale and close your eyes, mentally preparing for the humiliation you’re about to inflict upon yourself. “Your fingers. Your hands. The way you move, the way you’re so good at this. It’s sexy, okay? I can’t fucking focus.”

Joel’s in disbelief that he heard you correctly. When the words finally register, a smirk curls up on his lips. He feels a little guilty for accusing you of not caring. But then again, he never would have thought shuffling cards would be a turn on for a woman. Poor thing, he thinks. You’re not bored, you’re just hot and bothered. It’s no wonder you can’t focus. “You think I’m sexy?”

You stare at the cards, avoiding his stare. God, this is embarrassing. “Yeah, of course,”

“Of course, huh?” he taunts you with a shit eating grin. “My fingers are gettin’ you all worked up, is that right?”

You finally build the courage to look up. There’s no animosity or malice in his gaze, just amusement. Your confidence is beginning to return. “That’s right,” you reply with a whisper.

“Wow. My fingers gettin’ you all hot and bothered and I’ve never even touched you,” he teases. “That’s what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours? You’re thinkin’ about me touchin’ you?”

You nod. “How could I not? I always do,”

“Oh darlin’, how you flatter me,” He pauses, thinking. Joel gets a twisted idea then, and places the cards in front of you. “Tell you what, sweet thing. You shuffle those cards real nice for me, I’ll use my fingers on you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes Joel, please,” you rasp out. You took the scenic route to get there, but the night is finally headed in the direction you had hoped for.

Joel makes it look so easy. Just focus a little harder, and you’ll do it. You split the deck in two, mirror the cards, place your fingers properly, and–

Plop plop. Plop.

The deck splits in large chunks with a few single cards falling near the end. You exhale in frustration.

“Come on now, sweetheart. You want me to touch you, right?” Joel’s wearing a twisted smirk, so smug and cocky. “What’re you screwin’ around for?”

Joel loves teasing his partners, he loves building up tension so palpable that it could be sliced with a knife.

You glare at him. You’ll show him. It can’t be that fucking hard to shuffle a damn deck of cards. You repeat the shuffling motion, failing again.

You grunt at the deck of cards, wishing you could make them burst into flames. You try again, and fail. Yet again.

You try again. Fail.

And again. Fail.

Focusing is becoming increasingly difficult with the throbbing growing stronger at the apex of your thighs.

You huff indignantly, slamming the cards on the table. “Fuck this,”

“Hey, now. If you’d’ve just listened to me you’d get it right by now,” Joel steps out of his chair and hovers behind you, then motions for you to begin again. He places his hands over yours, separating them a little. “Hands are too close together, darlin’. That’s why the cards aren’t falling right. Now try.”

You steady your breath, focusing on the cards. You slide your thumbs up the edges slowly and watch the cards stagger perfectly. The pitter patter of each card hitting the other is the most beautiful and relieving sound you’ve ever heard. You gasp, amazed that you finally did it.

Joel opens his mouth to praise you, but you interrupt him by practically leaping out of your chair and into his arms. Without thinking, you grab his face and press your lips to his, kissing him hard and fast. Your lips slide sloppily against his and your teeth click together every so often.

Your hands leave his face and furiously unbutton your jeans and you grab his hand, shoving it down the front of your pants. You moan when his fingers reach your center.

Joel’s instinct is to tease you some more, but you’ve done that to yourself enough already. It’s evident by the river flowing between your thighs. You gasp when drags his middle and ring fingers up and down your seam.

“You poor thing,” he whispers into your lips. “Fuckin’ needed this, hm?”

You don’t answer him, you can’t. You just whimper into his mouth. His strong nose presses against your cheek and his lips are soft against yours. His calloused fingers paint steady circles against your clit and his other arm is around your waist, holding you tightly against him. He can feel your knees beginning to buckle and he relishes in the way you’re unraveling, just for him.

He parts from you and removes his hand from your pussy. You let out a cry of frustration at the loss. “I know, darlin’,” he sympathizes.

He sits on his chair and pulls you close to him by your hips, then tugs your jeans down your thighs. He motions for you to take them off the rest of the way and then guides you to sit in his lap, your back flush against his chest. He pushes his hand down the front of your panties and returns it to your pussy, circling your clit once more before pushing two fingers inside your wet heat, curling upwards and hitting the spot that makes your thighs tremble. His hot breath tickles your ear and sends a shiver down your spine. “Did so good, baby. So good for me,”

A strangled moan gets caught in your throat. His fingers feel incredible, stretching you out and pressing into you.

He loves the wet squelching sound of your pussy, he loves the way your head is resting on his shoulder, your lips pressing into his neck as you whimper sweet nothings into his skin. His other arm is wrapped tight around your body and he squeezes your breasts in his big hand, pinching and twisting your pebbled nipples. “God, you don’t take much at all do you? So sensitive, just for me,”

His cock is hard beneath you, poking through his jeans and into your back. He desperately wants to be touched, wants to take this further and fuck you hard and deep. But not yet.

“Joel, I want more now,” you whine, feeling heat deep in the pit of your stomach.

“You want to come now, sweetheart? Come all over my fingers?” he nudges your thighs farther apart and you open up deeper for him. He removes his hand from your breasts and trails it down your body, beginning gentle circles on your clit while the fingers on his other hand continue curling into you.

“Please,” you cry. You’re so noisy, he’s thankful you’re screaming into his bad ear.

“‘Course, baby. You can let go. It’s okay,” he coos. If only you could see his devilish smirk and know what twisted idea he’s conjuring up in his head.

With his permission, you let yourself go. Your face and chest flush and your muscles squeeze around his fingers erratically. “Fuck, fuck, Joel,” you moan. Joel continues his work on your pussy as you ride out your high. It’s a delicate orgasm, soft and gentle. It feels wonderful, but you need more.

With shallow breaths, you compose yourself and turn to face him. You press kisses to his lips and his jaw and down his throat. Then, on your knees, you reach for his belt buckle.

“What d'ya think you’re doin’, sweetheart?” he questioned you, his voice taunting and playful. He grabs your hands and holds them tightly to stop you.

“What do you mean? I’m going down on you,” you reply, baffled by his question. “Then we’re gonna fuck.”

“Ah, ah,�� he tuts. “No we’re not.”

“We’re not?”

“No. I never said I’d fuck you. I told you I’d use my fingers on you,” Of course, he knew you thought this would go farther. But Joel revels in teasing a woman, making her beg and cry for him before finally giving in.

You scoff in disdain. “But I wanted more,” you complain.

“I know you did, baby. If you want my cock, you have to work for it. You didn’t shuffle the cards right,” he tells you plainly, as if it was so obvious. “Shuffle the cards right and I’ll fuck you.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Yes, I did. You watched me,”

“I did watch you, and you didn’t do it right. Have to finish with the bridge fall, sweetheart. Or else you’ll bend my cards and I’ll be real upset with you,” he explains, feigning sympathy for you. “I’d have to punish you. And you really don’t want that, baby. So why don’t you be a good girl now, shuffle those cards the right way so I can fuck you real nice, just how you wanted.” his voice is dark and low and serious, you love the gravelly rumble coming from deep in his chest. “Do that for me?”

You love the threat. One day you’ll have to bend his cards, just to see what he’d do to you. But you have bigger concerns at the present moment.

You take a step back to your seat and sit, the cold wood of your chair is refreshing on the hot and sweaty skin of your thighs. You grab the deck, separate it, and take a deep breath in and let it out. You move your hands apart just a touch, just as Joel instructed earlier. And you let the cards fall into place.

With your hands now holding the shuffled cards, you try your best to maneuver them into falling into place. It doesn’t go as planned, the cards flop backwards and scatter all over the table.

Joel bites back a smile, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Havin’ trouble?”

“No. I can do it,”

You try again. Split the deck, run your thumbs up the edge of the cards and–

The cards fall in chunky groups, not quite the elegant shuffle Joel was looking for. Oops. Fucked that one up. Not to worry, you’ll just try again.

This time you shuffle correctly, attempt the bridge fall once more and fail. Again. You hear the clink of Joel’s belt buckle fall and watch him unzip his pants and pull out his cock. It’s hard and the tip is blushed as he begins to stroke himself. “Better get it together, darlin’. I’m gettin’ tired of waiting on you,”

You glare at him silently.

You steady yourself and try again. And fail. Fucking again. Joel lets out a low whistle and spits into his hand, then brings it to his cock again. His fist is moving up and down his shaft and he shrugs at you, as if to say ‘Sorry, sweetheart. Can’t help it’. This is a delightfully unique change of pace, he thinks. He’s not doing a thing to work you up, your pleasure and release is all dependent on yourself alone.

Alright. Once more, this time with feeling.

Fail.

You try and try and try again, failing each time. Your fingers are exhausted and your palms are sweaty, causing you to slip up. And Joel’s sitting there, playing with his cock and not saying a thing. You’re so beyond irritated, completely tired of this torturous bullshit. Tears of frustration well in your eyes and spill out and down your cheeks. This is fucking agonizing. You ignore your tears, hoping that if you don’t acknowledge them Joel won’t either. You try again. Nothing. You let out a cry in dissatisfaction.

“I know, baby. You’re tryin’ so hard,” Joel whispered earnestly. You just let out a dry laugh. “You are,” he continued. “Take a deep breath, focus for me. You got it.”

You shuffle the cards, set up the arch. “Easy, now. Lift up one thumb, let the cards fall. You can do it, baby,”

You do as you’re told, lifting up your left thumb slowly. You can’t believe your eyes as you watch the spill neatly into each other. Fucking finally.

You drop the cards and let them scatter slightly on the table. In a rush, you leap to Joel and drop to your knees, not even caring about the way the hard floor makes your knees ache. You swat his hand away from his cock and part your lips over the tip, feeling him slide past your tongue and down your throat.

In your fantasies, you’d tease him with your tongue a little. Make him want you, need you. But not here, not now. You’re hungry for his cock and want to waste no time with him. You savor the way his cock feels so smooth and soft in your mouth, the slightly salty flavor of his skin. It’s all so…Joel.

Even Joel was surprised by how eager you were. He gasped when you took him into his mouth, but quickly relaxed as you began your pace. You gripped his denim clad thigh in one hand and brought the other to the base of his length, twisting and pumping it as you bobbed your head. You hummed and moaned against him.

“Wow, darlin’. Someone’s excited,” he mumbles.

You look at him with big doe eyes and offer a wink in response. Joel lets you continue for a while more. He loves how enthusiastic you are, sucking and stroking him like it’s all you’ve ever wanted to do. It brings him close to the edge.

He taps your cheek a couple times, encouraging you to hop off of him. Your lips are puffy and red, spit dribbling down your chin. He grabs you by your arms and shoves you against the table, then pushes the cards out of the way. You watch and giggle as they clatter on the ground in a big mess. He was so protective of those same cards before, so offended at how you touched them. Now they sat in disarray on the ground. “Your cards,” you breathed with concern.

“Don’t care,” he mumbled, pulling your panties down your thighs and pushing your back onto the table. He knelt before you and draped your legs over his shoulders, loving the way they weighed him down. “Let me taste you, please,” he rasped out. You nodded hurriedly. Joel wasted no time, hungrily licking and kissing your folds. He lapped at you, pressed his tongue flat against your center and dragged it over your sensitive skin. He loved how you tasted, how you made a mess of his mustache and his beard. He pointed his tongue and flicked at your clit as he brought two fingers to your core, scissoring and twisting and stretching you out.

It felt amazing, so intense and pleasurable. But you had been waiting so long for his cock already and it’s all you could think about. You pushed Joel away from your body and tore off the rest of your clothes as he followed suit. He looked gorgeous, tan skin and oh so smooth. He wasn’t very hairy, you noticed. Just a tuft of coarse hair at the base of his cock and a little happy trail leading down to it. His muscles were soft and lightly defined, you loved the little swell of his tummy. “You’re beautiful,” you whispered. “Need you to fuck me now.”

Joel cocked his head slightly at your compliment. No one had ever called him beautiful before. You were such a genuinely lovely person. He smiled sweetly at you before kissing you, closing the gap between your nude bodies. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, baby. Wish I told you earlier,” he purred. “I’ll fuck you now. You did so good, baby. So proud of you.”

With that, Joel lined his hard cock up to your soaked entrance and pushed inside. Slowly, being sure not to go too hard or too fast. He watched your face, the way your eyes fell shut and your mouth dropped open. He stopped once he was about halfway inside of you. “How am I doin’, darlin’?”

“Please fuck me,” you begged. You appreciated his gentle care, how he wanted to make sure you were comfortable. You’d expect nothing less than the illustrious southern gentleman. But you’ve been waiting long enough with the prospect of being fucked by Joel Miller. Fuck sweet lovings, you needed to be fucked. To be used, like a toy. “Now.” you demanded.

It’s all the permission Joel needed. He slammed his hips into yours and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, gripping his tight muscles. Your hands wandered down his back and settled on his ass. You squeezed the soft flesh beneath your fingers and let out moan after moan.

Joel loved how vocal you were. Telling him what you needed, how you needed it. He loved the pretty noises you made, all for him. No one else. Not anymore, at least. You were his now and would be forever.

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted between breaths. “Feels so good.” Joel’s head dipped down to your chest and he kissed and nipped at the soft skin of your breasts, tonguing your nipples and loving how you shuddered at his touch. “Good, baby,” he said. “You deserve it.”

You did deserve it, after all. He made you work like a fucking dog for it.

Joel fucked you at a steady pace, comfortable for both of you. He asked you what felt good, what you needed. How he could make it better. “Tell me what I can do, sweetheart,”

There were no improvements to be made. Everything about Joel was second to none, his cock, the way he moved, the way he held you. He fucked you perfectly, just how you needed. “Nothing, just,” you squinted your eyes shut and searched your brain for words, finding it difficult to piece any together. “Just keep fucking me like this. Maybe a little harder, please.”

Joel was a provider. A lady as beautiful as yourself, asking for more? It’d be a sin to deprive you of what you needed. So Joel obliged, picking up the pace and hitting you deeper. “Just like that, Jesus, fuck. Just like that, baby.”

Baby. Joel loved that term of endearment. He wasn’t used to being called any sweet nicknames, usually he was the one who’d dole them out. Not just to anyone, only to those closest to himself. It’s why he called you ‘sweetheart’ and ‘darling’ so often.

He liked being the object of your affection. “Keep callin’ me that, please,” he requested, his voice shy and low. He was so tough and domineering just moments ago, and now he was bashful and vulnerable, all because of one little word. Baby.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good. Wanted this for so long,” you whimpered, holding onto him tightly. You’d abandon his name completely and call him ‘baby’ for the rest of your lives, if he asked you to.

“God, sweetheart. Me too,” he grunted.

Joel couldn’t last much longer. He let out groans and strangled out moans as his pace became sloppy. “Let me make you come,” he begged. He wriggled his hand between your bodies, placing his thumb on your clit. He held a firm pressure to the sensitive bud and moved it in concise circles, pushing you closer and closer to your release.

You let out a throaty moan as you felt your climax begin to bubble up inside you. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you pleaded. “I’m right there.”

Joel just kept doing what he was doing. Circles on your clit and fucking you deep, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you. Your moans turned frantic and you cried out his name, over and over again, like a prayer. Your orgasm was much more intense than the last one, it sent electricity all through your body. You felt tingles and sparks wash over you, from your scalp all through your fingertips, down all the way to your toes. It was the best orgasm any lover of yours had ever blessed you with.

Joel felt your body shudder around him, felt your pussy convulse and squeeze his cock. His thrusts became harder, faster, and frenzied as he chased his own climax. You watched his eyes screw shut and little drops of sweat fall down his temples as he let out a deep moan. His cock pulsed inside you, painting you with his hot seed.

He let out a laugh then, between panting breaths. He pulled you in for a hug, his skin hot and slick with sweat. Head pressed to his heaving chest, you could feel his heartbeat in your ear. Your new favorite feeling.

Joel pulled away from you, kissed you sweetly and helped you clean up. You pulled on your clothes and sat neatly at the table, picking up and sorting out the disheveled cards. Joel did the same, he bent down next to you and gathered the cards on the ground.

He placed them in front of you, left for a second with your empty glasses, and returned with the glasses of water refilled before sitting in his seat again. How you didn’t knock them over during your fucking, you had no idea.

“Alright, baby. Show me how you shuffle now,” he grinned at you. He wanted to make sure his unorthodox method of teaching you actually worked.

You smiled back, split the deck in two and mirrored them for the nth time that evening, and then placed your fingers along the two decks. You slid your thumbs up the cards, watched one fall on top of the other, and brought the cards back up into a nice arch. With a breath, you let off one thumb and let the cards fall down slowly. You sighed in relief. Your maneuver wasn’t quite as smooth as Joel’s, but there was plenty of time to practice.

You dealt out ten cards each, gathered your hand and did your best to hide a smirk. You held a three, four, and six of clubs, three kings, and two jacks.

Joel sighs disappointedly at his hand. You couldn’t have dealt him worse cards. Nothing went with anything.

The two of you exchanged cards quietly, as if you didn’t just desecrate Joel’s dining room table. It was quite funny, really.

The game was quick, just like before. You placed your sets and melds in front of him. “Read it and weep,” you jeer.

Joel grumbles something about cheating and steals your cards. “Rematch,” he says. “Loser gives the winner head.”

“Deal,”

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