#i remember when concerns about it came out in the past

[meazalykov]

battle of the blood

esmee brugts x reader x sister!OC

summary: el clásico gets the best of your emotions

warnings: childhood trauma, strained family relationship, angst, swearing, verbal abuse, mentions of physical abuse, long chapter, I know esmee started during this el clasico but I changed it for the plot.. please be warned.

oc: your sister's name is isla, you can make up her face claim

as one of the best defenders in the world at 21, you remind everyone why you’ve earned that title, having faced some of the world’s best forwards and come out on top. 

you love football, its your entire life, but there’s something else that was added to that: 

your girlfriend, esmee.

esmee, who came to barcelona in 2023, is your love. her presence makes everything feel right, and you can’t help but smile whenever you see her at all. you remember the day she arrived, the way her eyes sparkled with excitement, the hint of nervousness as she stepped into her new life. 

it was the start of something beautiful��not just for her, but for you too. you had been searching for something deeper, and there she was.

being with esmee has awakened a side of you that had been dormant, buried beneath the pressures you’ve had throughout your entire life. 

during training sessions, the intensity can be overwhelming. despite the urgency of it all, esmee is always there. she makes your heart race, not just from the adrenaline of the sport, but from the love you have for her. when you catch her gaze from across the training pitch, it’s as if time slows down. 

the world around you fades away, and all you see is her.

in those fleeting moments, you can’t help but sneak in quick hugs, a brief escape from the tiredness of training. yes, you keep things professional in front of the public but the team adores the mutual love you have for eachother. 

esmee giggles, a sound that sparks warmth in your chest, but you can see the hints of nervousness creeping into her demeanor. her teammates, playful and lively, often tease her, and while you know it’s all in good fun, you can’t help but feel protective of her. 

when the world gets too loud, esmee knows how to bring you back down to earth. she asks about your day, your plans, anything really, and in those moments of vulnerability, something you weren’t granted as a child.. you find peace. 

you cherish the little things, like the way she plays with your hair or how she leans her head against your shoulder, finding safety in your presence. mosttimes, when the pressures of life seem too heavy, you sit together in silence, holding hands and blocking the world away. 

evenings spent together often find you curled up on the couch, watching your favorite shows, stealing kisses during the best parts, or sharing popcorn as you giggle at the most ridiculous moments. these are the times that reaffirmed your belief in love.

a few months into your relationship with esmee, an undeniable comfort settled between you two. you realized that the walls you had built around your heart were slowly coming down, allowing her in. 

those late-night conversations that once danced around the surface now floated into deeper waters. you acted in certain ways that made esmee knew that you had a difficult past, but she never questioned you about it. she would never force you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. 

one evening, while sitting on your cozy balcony, the barcelona street lights twinkling below, you felt compelled to open up about something that had long weighed on you.

“esmee,” you began, your voice just above a whisper, 

“you know my sister, isla?” the light from the street below caught the glint of curiosity in her eyes. she nodded, already aware of that fact but eager to hear more. 

“we don’t really get along,” you continued, almost wanting to laugh since your words were  an understatement. 

esmee leaned closer, her expression shifting to one of concern. 

“i get that, but… what happened?” her gentle prompt encouraged you to delve deeper. you took a deep breath, gathering the courage to share the truth.

“it’s not just sibling rivalry, esmee,” you began, your heart pounding. 

“it’s… it’s more complicated than that. when we were kids, isla was never really nice to me. she would tease me, and I tried to brush it off, but it was relentless. as we got older, it turned into something darker.” 

esmee’s brow furrowed, and you could see the flicker of concern in her eyes. 

“what do you mean?” she asked softly, her voice steady but filled with empathy.

“there was this one time,” you recalled, the memories flooding back with clarity. 

“we were in the field, just playing football during one of the days that we didn’t have practice back at my childhood club, then, out of nowhere, she just… snapped. she started pushing me, calling me names, she beat me up then started saying I’d never be as good as her.” 

your voice trembled as you continued. 

“that was just the start. it got worse. she’d corner me, taunt me. when my parents weren't home, she would always beat me up. its not like they would have cared since they were never around but isla alway reminded me that I would never be her.” 

esmee’s hand found yours, her grip tightening slightly as if to reinforce the bond you shared. 

“y/n, I’m so sorry,” she said softly, her eyes glistening with understanding. 

“that’s awful. no one should have to go through that, especially from your sister.” 

the weight of your confession felt heavy yet liberating. as you spoke, you worried that it might shift her perception of you, but her unwavering gaze reassured you. 

“it’s been hard for me to reconcile those memories,” you admitted. 

“i wish she would snap out of it, be the sister I always wanted. but every time I think about confronting my past, about talking to her, it’s like that darkness just pulls me back.”

“you have every right to feel how you feel,” esmee replied, her voice a soothing balm against the turmoil inside you. 

“sometimes letting go is the healthiest choice. it’s okay to put distance between you and someone who brings you pain.” 

in your mind you had esmee’s love, and that was more than enough. 

when isla transferred to real madrid from aston villa back in august, it sent shockwaves through the football community, but for you, y/n, it was merely a confirmation of what you had always known. everyone expected the announcement to create an excitment among you, with commentators dissecting every angle, but you felt strangely detached. after all, you had long ago come to terms with the reality of your relationship—or lack thereof—with isla.

most people suspect that you and isla aren’t close at all, and they’re right. the truth is, you don’t even follow each other on social media. it’s not an oversight; it’s a deliberate choice. you’ve both carved out your own professional existences in the world of football, but the disconnect runs far deeper than just career paths. 

when isla’s name surfaces in interviews, you always say, “she’s my sister,” but even that feels like a hollow statement. it’s the only phrase you can utter without spiraling into a torrent of emotions that wouldn’t be conducive to your public image. 

your pr team constantly reminds you to keep it professional, advising you to avoid any personal comments that could lead to negative speculation. they know the rumors swirl, that fans are eager to dissect what must be some family drama. 

they think it’s just sibling rivalry or jealousy. if only they knew the truth—that isla’s presence in your life had been more harmful than supportive, and that your silence is more a shield than a statement.

as the media continues to pair your names together, it’s irritating to reflect on the fact that you’re linked by blood and talent, yet worlds apart in spirit. you wish you could express how isla’s competitive edge always crossed the line into emotional and physical abuse, how the shadows of your childhood still loom large, how her triumphs feel like a stark reminder of your own struggles. 

for now, those words remain locked away, buried under layers of professional decorum and public expectations of barcelona players.

as el clasico approached, you felt your mood souring more and more each day. anticipation crackled in the air like a thousand tiny static shocks. for you, it felt heavy, oppressive—a cloud she couldn’t shake off. 

the usual buzz of excitement that surrounded the biggest match in football felt muted, as if you were standing behind a glass wall, watching everyone else thrive in the moment while you grappled with your own turmoil. 

only a handful of people on the team seemed to understand why your demeanor had shifted so noticeably. esmee was one of them—brash and spirited, always ready to sprinkle a bit of humor to lighten the mood, yet deeply empathetic when it came to your struggles. 

esmee had a sixth sense for when y/n was struggling. alexia, as captain, also had a deep understanding of the weight y/n’s situation with isla. she’d made sure to keep conversations about family issues to a minimum during training sessions. 

the rest of the team suspected something was off, but they respected y/n’s space, choosing not to pry or gossip. 

“things will be okay, y/n,” esmee reassured her you afternoon, giving a supportive squeeze to your waist after the conversation of el clasico was brough up. 

“we’ll get through madrid together. we’ll play the full 90 minutes and then come back to barcelona. you won’t have to see isla again until march.” 

despite the attempt at comfort, y/n felt her heart sink. she appreciated esmee’s sentiment, but the thought only compounded her feelings of dread. 

“i didn’t see her for three years when she was at aston villa,” y/n muttered, frustration clawing at her chest. 

“why did she have to come to madrid? it’s like she’s intentionally making my life worse.” 

y/n had achieved her success in her own right, yet every time she saw isla on the edge of the pitch, posing for photos or congratulating teammates, y/n felt herself slipping back into the background. the knot in her stomach twisted tighter, amplifying her anxiety. do any of those people know that isla is an abuser? do they know that she used to beat up her younger sister until her hands started to hurt too much? probably not. 

“c’mon, y/n, try to see the positives,” esmee urged, attempting to pull her friend from the dark place lingering in her thoughts. 

“this is your chance to show madrid what you’re made of! i know you’re a defender but maybe we can get a goal out of you!.” 

you forced a laugh with a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. the idea of stepping onto the pitch, with thousands of eyes watching you—not only as part of barcelona but in direct comparison to isla—sent your mind spiraling. 

what if you didn’t perform well? what if your sister outshines you? 

you had wanted to have this magical moment as a pro player without isla looming in the background, always casting a lengthy shadow over your achievements.

“look, why not make this game about us?” esmee continued, trying to penetrate y/n’s wall of anxiety. 

“play for the team, for each other. we’re going to have fun! it’s el clasico! if anything, we should be excited! forget about isla.” 

it was hard for you to forget, very hard. how could you? memories of childhood flashed through your mind: the abuses, the times when isla’s achievements always overshadowed your own spark. it felt like being trapped in a cycle she couldn’t escape. 

you remembered celebrating each of your own milestones quietly, while isla was surrounded by adoring friends and admiring coaches. 

taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you felt a flicker of determination ignite within you. esmee was right about one thing: it was important to rely on your teammates, the women who had stood by your side through victories and losses alike.

perhaps, if you reframed your perspective, you could focus on what you could control rather than the shadows of your past.

as training sessions progressed, it became harder for you to keep your emotions in check. every exercise, every drill, became a mental obstacle course. the tension built up not just for you but for the entire team. they were gearing up for a match that was not only an opportunity to prove themselves against their fiercest rivals, but also a chance for you to confront some demons that had followed you into the present.

the morning of el clásico broke in madrid, sunlight streaming through the hotel room window, illuminating every corner and filling the air with an electric energy. 

“hey, sleepyhead! wake up! it’s match day!” kika chirped, her voice bright and cheerful as she moved around the room, throwing a pillow on your sleepy head.

you couldn’t help but wake up and smile at her enthusiasm, though the knot in your stomach tightened a little more.

“morning,” you replied, stretching and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. the vibrant posters of barcelona hung on the walls, a reminder of the mission ahead.

 “did you sleep at all?”

“of course! i had this amazing dream about scoring the winning goal,” kika laughed, her excitement contagious.

you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of that same energy, even as your mind drifted back to other thoughts.

“i barely slept. too many thoughts,” you admitted, the weight of the day pressing on your shoulders.

“about isla?” kika guessed, her tone shifting to something more understanding. you nodded, your heart sinking a little at the mention of her name. 

the reminder of being in the starting lineup sent a mix of nerves through you. as you and kika finished getting ready, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

you looked focused, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of longing for the comfort of esmee’s arms. it was hard not to wish you could have a moment away from the pressure, to feel the warmth and safety of your partner’s embrace. 

“let’s head down for breakfast,” kika suggested, sensing your distraction. you nodded, knowing that you needed to center yourself and prepare for the day ahead. the atmosphere in the dining room was buzzing with excitement, the smell of coffee and fresh pastries filling the air.

as you entered, the chatter of your teammates surrounded you, their laughter and energy infectious. you settled at the table, and soon the conversation turned toward the madrid lineup. your heart raced as they mentioned isla's name, and you felt the knot in your stomach clench tighter. 

“of course, they’ll have isla,” mapi said, a slight edge of playful rivalry in her voice. 

“she’s one of their best forwards. should be fun trying to keep her in check.” 

“fun,” you murmured, trying to smile. inside, you felt a mix of admiration and jealousy, an emotional tug-of-war that blurred the line between sibling rivalry and personal ambition. 

“we’ll handle it,” frido chimed in, trying to lift the mood.

as breakfast came to an end, you took a moment to reflect on everything swirling in your head. thoughts raced as you prepared to head to the stadium, the enormity of the day dawning on you. 

this wasn’t just another game; it was el clásico. you would be facing isla, your biological sister.

"you ready?" mapi asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement, oblivious to the storm inside you. you forced a smile, nodding tightly as the whistle blew, marking the beginning of el clásico. 

you quickly tucked your worries to the back of your mind, focusing on the game ahead.

as you maneuvered up the pitch, you could hear your teammates calling for the ball. aitana had it, and you made your way toward her, preparing to receive the pass. just as you felt the rhythm starting to flow through you, a figure rushed at you, and adrenaline kicked in. 

at the last moment, you spotted that familiar silhouette, but it was too late. 

you managed to push the ball to caro just in time, but the force of the collision pushed you back slightly. steadying yourself, you took a quick look only to realize it was isla. instinct kicked in, and you pushed her away from you. 

"don’t push me!" she snapped, her tone a mix of irritation.

“i just did!” you shot back, your heart racing as your blood boiled. you could feel the heat of her presence instantly igniting all those old wounds. 

“whatever, just wait until the end my little sister. I hope your teammates are ready to pick up the pieces when you fall apart.”

the exchange hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze as the intensity of the game continued around you. you fought to push out the old memories of isolation and hurt, taut and angry.

“not today, isla,” you muttered under your breath, refocusing on the game, trying to shake off the encounter. deep down, you knew this game was about more than football; it was about proving to yourself and to her that you were no longer the scared girl she once abused. 

you were a force to be reckoned with—a player in your own right.

 

isla shot you a dirty look before returning to her position, the tension prickled in the air. you forced yourself to breathe through it, channeling the storm of emotions into energy for the game. 

ignoring her felt like a mini victory, and you strived to sink back into the rhythm of the match.

the chaos of the field surrounded you—the shouts from your teammates, the roar of the crowd, the pounding of feet on the grass. 

with a swift glance up the pitch, you saw patri breaking through the defense. it was now or never. positioning yourself perfectly, you lifted your foot and sent a precise cross sailing through the air. everything slowed down as you watched the ball arc toward her. 

in the glorious moment that followed, patri met it with her head, sending it soaring into the back of the net. 

“vammoooss!” you shouted, adrenaline exploding through you as the crowd erupted in cheers. overwhelmed with joy, you sprinted toward patri, 

your heart racing. when you reached her, you jumped onto her back, wrapping your arms around her shoulders in a triumphant embrace.

“what a header!” you laughed, squeezing her tightly as she hoisted you up effortlessly. the bond you shared with patri was one of the deepest you had on the team too.

“you played it perfectly!” she beamed, her smile contagious.

the second half kicked off, and when esmee came on, you felt a rush of excitement. she was not just your girlfriend but she was an excellent player. as you positioned yourself on the right wing, you watched with anticipation as esmee was on the left.

suddenly, the joy of the moment was shattered. without warning, isla charged toward esmee, pushing her hard at full force when the dutch girl had the ball. you felt your stomach drop as you witnessed the blatant foul unfold right in front of you. 

esmee hit the ground with a thud, disbelief written all over her face as she looked up at the referee. the whistle blew, but to your disgust, isla received only a simple yellow card.

“that should’ve been a fucking red card…” you mumbled to yourself, unable to hold back the frustration bubbling up within you. you were furious—not just at the referee’s poor judgment but also at the way your sister exploited the situation. 

it was conscious and cruel, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as your fists clenched at your sides.

mapi, who was close enough to overhear, giggled softly, sensing your ire. 

“I think we all saw that, you know?” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. you shot her a glance, half amused but still seething. 

“not funny,” you replied sharply, trying to keep your focus on the game. you could see esmee slowly getting up, shaking her head in disbelief as she brushed off the grass on her legs. 

a mix of sadness and anger welled within you—it wasn’t just a foul; it was a reminder of how your sister’s actions affected not just you, but your loved ones as well.

it was hard to shake off the fight in your chest. the thought that isla was playing dirty, particularly against someone you cared about, burned intensely. you glanced back at esmee, who shrugged off the hit.

shortly after, the game continued.

the tension in the stadium reached a fever pitch as the clock ticked down to the 87th minute. barcelona had just scored their fourth goal, courtesy of alexia, and the crowd erupted in cheers that reverberated around the pitch. 

just when you thought the game was stabilizing, hell broke loose in a way you never anticipated.

isla broke past ingrid as if she were a mere hurdle, her focus unyielding as she made a reckless dash toward the goal. in that split second, your heart raced—not in excitement, but in horror. that familiar cocktail of hatred and anger surged through you, overwhelming all rational thought. 

you weren’t just standing by anymore; you were compelled to act, to protect what was rightfully yours on the field.

without a second thought, you lunged forward at full speed, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you executed the fastest and cleanest side tackle imaginable. your body struck the ground, sliding into her with precision. isla flew away from the ball, sent sprawling across the pitch as your foot sent it careening toward the crowd, safely out of harm’s way.

the satisfying thud of your tackle felt like a victory, but it was short-lived. as you stood up, energy still crackling in your limbs, you felt a rush of pride—until that pride morphed into a tension that shadowed the field.

isla sprang to her feet, standing right in front of you with rage bubbling in her eyes.

“who the fuck do you think you are?” she spat, invading your personal space, her face a mask of anger and disbelief. her breath was heavy, and you could see the seething hatred reflected in her dark gaze.

you pushed back, adrenaline mingling with defiance. “i’m the one who stopped you from making a fool of yourself! that was a pathetic run!” you felt empowered, knowing you had thwarted her attempt to score, and relished the moment of victory. 

isla laughed bitterly, her voice slicing through the chaos around you. “pathetic? look who’s talking!” 

“you’re a joke, isla! you always have been!” 

“joke?” she echoed, her mouth twisting into a sneer. 

“at least i’m not the one who needs to prove myself every time i step on this field. everyone knows what a failure you are!” the venom in her words stung, and her face was a twisted mirror of the anger that coursed through you.

“maybe if you spent less time abusing people and more time focusing on your own game, you wouldn’t be in this position right now!” you responded, the heat of the moment making you bold. your gaze locked onto hers, refusing to break contact, as if the intensity could somehow ward off her next assault.

“you think this is about me?” isla laughed, the sound cruel and mocking. 

“this is about you, desperate to be seen, desperate for validation!" the derision in her voice felt like a blade, piercing the surface of your confidence.

“this is so fucking hilarious, you’re scared!” you shot back, your voice shaking but resolute. 

“scared that if you lost, you wouldn’t know who you are anymore. you’re obsessed with proving you're the best, shit you abused me for years and that wasn’t enough, maybe you should’ve killed me isla!”

“look at you! the fact that you’re still here makes me sick!” isla ignores what you said, failing to admit her abuse towards you.

“you’re such a bitch, thinking you could go to barcelona and think you’re hot shit—” 

“says the one who chose madrid of all teams, look at your team with zero goals!!” you snapped immaturely, the words spilling out before you could even catch yourself. 

cata tried to pull you away from your sister for the last twenty seconds, but it was no use; your anger suddenly surged, fueling a strength that felt almost uncontrollable. 

at that moment, everything around you turned into a blur as adrenaline surged through your veins.

alexia had noticed the commotion and began to move toward you, determination etched on her face. 

“leave her alone!” athenea shouted at you, stepping between you and your sister.

“score a goal then come back to me, you bitch,” you shot back, your voice laced with defiance as you metaphorically swatted athenea away like she was an annoying fly. 

“don’t speak to her like that!” your sister yelled, pushing you.

the crowd around you watched in shock, drawn into the escalating drama, whispers and gasps cutting through the din of the match.

suddenly, both teams surrounded you, players from both sides trying to break up the heated argument. tensions flared further as a few of your teammates exchanged barbs with madrid players, the atmosphere thick with hostility. 

the referee rushed in to maintain order, but you and your sister remained locked in a fierce gaze, hatred radiating off you like heat from a fire.

“i haven’t seen you in three years—what the fuck? you know what? you’re hopeless. you’ve always been the one holding everyone back! shit, you guys would’ve been up to six if you didn’t make those mistakes you did!!!” isla spat.

“you’re pathetic, isla. maybe shut up and stop pretending you’re even close to being good enough. maybe try watching your balance next time?” you shot back, the memory of the side tackle you had executed flashing before your eyes, where she had fallen face-first into the grass.

“do you think anyone actually believes in you at barcelona? i don't, and i’m positive your captain doesn’t either!” isla laughed, the sound harsh and mocking, as if your words were nothing more than a joke to her. 

“you don’t know me, you don’t know y/n, and what happens at barcelona, go away!” alexia shouted, her voice cutting through the chaotic atmosphere as she rushed towards you, clearly infuriated by what had just transpired. 

she pulled you away from the escalating confrontation, her grip firm and protective, while olga carmona was busy dragging isla away, separating the two of you in a tangle of emotions and disbelief.

as the whistle blew, signaling the end of the match, the rush of emotions hit you like a tidal wave—embarrassment, anger, sadness, and confusion twisted together in an overwhelming torrent. 

your heart raced, every beat echoing your thoughts over and over: why did your sister hate you so much? yes, you had initiated the encounter with a side tackle, but it was just a game! a competition, something you had always loved, something that was supposed to bring joy. 

yet, here you were, feeling like a stranger in your own life, treated as though you were the villain in a twisted narrative that belonged to Isla.

deep down, you knew you weren’t the evil one. it was Isla—the sister who once had control over your life through years of emotional and physical abuse. the memories rushed back, uninvited and unwelcome, as you thought about the day you finally managed to escape at 16, signing with la masia and vowing to break free from the darkness that had enveloped your childhood. 

you had fought tooth and nail to build a life away from that pain, so why, after all these years, did she still hold such a powerful grip over your emotions?

the anger began to bubble to the surface, fierce and unyielding, igniting sparks of determination within you. you promised yourself you would never let anyone, least of all her, treat you like that ever again. yet with that anger came an undercurrent of sadness, an ache that resonated deeper than you wanted to admit. 

you realized, more painfully than ever, that you didn’t know your sister anymore—this Isla was a stranger in your life, and yet the years of shared history felt like a heavy weight pressing down on both of you. how had this happened? it felt surreal, standing on this battlefield of memories past, both of you reduced to adversaries when you should have been allies.

watching teammates embrace amid cheers and celebrations around you, you began to feel profoundly isolated. their laughter rang in your ears like a mocking reminder of the bond you once had with Isla, a bond that was now fractured, strained by the years of resentment and pain that simmered beneath the surface. 

it was as if you were caught in some cruel twist of fate, living out a nightmare where your family ties had turned into shackles, binding you to a painful legacy.

questions raced through your mind like a whirlwind: was there any hope for repair? could you ever bridge the chasm that had formed between you? every thought pulled you deeper into the confusion of your feelings, and you wondered if healing was even possible after so much trauma. 

the night wrapped its heavy cloak around madrid, its bustling streets still alive with the echoes of celebration and the collective energy of the crowd. bright lights illuminated the cobblestones, but inside the dimly lit bus, you felt completely enveloped in darkness.

the soft chatter of ecstatic teammates faded as you made your way to the farthest back seats, seeking solitude and privacy in the midst of a chaotic victory.

as you settled into the back corner, you pulled your hoodie over your eyes, the fabric a barrier from the vibrant world outside. your chest felt tight, a vice slowly tightening with each breath. the floodgates opened, and tears streamed unabated down your cheeks. 

you couldn’t remember the last time you had cried like this, where each sob felt like a physical release, an expulsion of the pain that had been building inside for years. the laughter and joy of your teammates were a distant hum, far removed from the anguish that churned in your heart. even in your secluded corner, memories of your fractured relationship with Isla rushed over you, relentless waves that threatened to pull you under.

“you don’t have a sister. you don’t have a sister,” echoed in your mind, each repetition stinging sharper than the last. the thought sank deep, raw and brutal, leaving you feeling utterly unmoored.

as you rested your head against the cool glass of the window, gazing out at the blurred lights of the city, the world outside became a mere backdrop to your inner turmoil. you could hear muffled conversations, the exuberant energy radiating from your teammates—a stark contrast to your spiraling emotions. 

the victory that had once been something to celebrate now felt meaningless in the face of the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

just then, the door creaked open on the bus, and vicky stepped in. she was still glowing from the game, her face alight with enthusiasm, but that expression quickly faded when she spotted you in the back. 

concern etched itself across her features, and her heart sank. she could see from the shadows of your hoodie and the position of your body—hunched and closed off—that you were in distress. overwhelmed, vicky turned on her heel and dashed back out of the bus, seeking out esmee, who stood chatting at the entrance with ellie.

“esmee! y/n is on the bus crying,” vicky mumbled, urgency lacing her words. the concern in her voice was palpable; she wanted to keep the team from overwhelming you, sensing how raw your emotion was and how much space you needed.

esmee felt her stomach twist at vicky's words. she had watched you take that fateful departure from the group, and it had left her heart heavy. she knew you better than most, knew when you needed to be left alone and when you needed someone to pull you back from the edge of despair. 

without hesitation, she scooped her things into her bag and sprinted past vicky, urgency pushing her feet to move faster.

the bus interior was dim, the only light provided by the streetlamps outside the window. it was quiet and still, a place where vulnerability thrived. esmee's heart raced as she stepped onto the bus, drawn immediately to the haunting softness of your cries. 

approaching you cautiously, she felt a pang of sadness pool in her chest. settling down across the aisle from you, she could now see the crumpled sleeve you were using as a tissue.

“y/n,” she whispered softly, her voice barely breaking the silence between the two of you. you didn’t respond, lost in the storm of your emotions. esmee took a deep breath, grounding herself as she tried to navigate this delicate moment. 

“can I sit with you?”

the slight shift in your posture told her it was okay. she moved into the seat right next to you, close enough to feel your warmth without infringing on your space. you still kept your eyes fixed on the streaks of light melting into the darkness beyond the window.

“it’s really okay to cry, baby,” esmee said gently, her tone soothing and patient. it was a balm for your frayed nerves, and for a moment, you blinked through the haze of tears. 

“I’m right here with you. you’re not alone.”

you drew a shaky breath, but the tears kept coming. it felt too heavy to be cradled alone in this storm of feelings. esmee reached forward, resting her hand on the empty seat between you, her fingers subtly inviting closeness. 

“I can’t take what you’re feeling away for you,” she continued softly, 

“but I can sit here with you while you feel it. it’s okay to not be okay.” esmee stays realistic. 

the tenderness of her words seeped into the crevices of your heart, and for the first time, you glanced towards her. her eyes were filled with concern, a deep and genuine empathy that made something inside you shift. 

the warmth of her gaze encouraged you to speak, to let out the words you had been holding tight within.

“it’s just… everything,” you managed to choke out between sobs, your voice breaking as the weight of the years spilled from your lips. 

“Isla… everything that happened at the end of the game, everything.”

esmee nodded, completely attuned to your pain. 

“I know it’s changing everything you thought you understood about things. It’s like a dark cloud, isn’t it?” she said, her gaze unwavering as she leaned closer, conveying both solidarity and strength. 

with gentle resolve, esmee shifted a fraction closer, and as if sensing your need for comfort, she brushed her hand against your back, the soft contact grounding and familiar as you lean against her chest. 

it felt as if she was sending warmth through that simple gesture, wrapping you in the safety of her presence. you blinked at her, your tears mixing with the warmth that slowly began to settle in your chest.

“i hate her.” you mumbled. 

“i can see why,” esmee understood. 

esmee gently placed her hand on your waist, her fingers squeezing lightly as if to remind you she was there, physically and emotionally. 

as the tears poured forth, each drop carrying away a piece of your pain, a piece of the suffocating grief that had held you captive for so long, it felt easier to breathe. esmee didn’t shy away from the gravity of what you were feeling; instead, she leaned in closer, her presence a steadfast beacon. 

the familiarity of her touch ignited a sense of safety, drawing you just a bit closer to the shore after feeling lost at sea for so long.

“let it all out,” she encouraged, brushing her thumb softly over the back of your hand that rested limply in your lap. it was a gentle caress that seemed to wipe away some of your doubts, a silent promise that you were moments away from finding solace in companionship. 

“nobody’s judging you here, I promise.”

you clung to her hand, feeling an unexpected safety in that small gesture.the tears continued to flow, but rather than a dam holding them back, it felt like a river running its course, tearing along and removing the debris of old pain.

esmee did not shy away from the intimacy of the moment; she was your shelter from the turmoil, absorbing your sorrow alongside you.

“no one has to know we’re having a moment,” esmee teased gently, her playful spirit shining through despite the gravity of the situation. she added a smirk, trying to raise the corners of your mouth into a semblance of a smile. 

you couldn’t help but chuckle at her light-hearted attempt to coax you from the shadows. laughter bubbled up from the depths of your throat—tentative at first, but it felt slightly like sunlight breaking through the clouds. 

“I might be too emotional for this team,” you replied, your voice still thick with emotion but softened by humor.

“at least we have each other to be emotional with,” esmee offered with sincerity, squeezing your hand gently before letting it settle back on your thigh, a touch that was both supportive and grounding.

as you both sat in the quiet of the bus, the soft sounds of the city thrumming outside, you found solace in the physical closeness and the shared silence after esmee’s words. 

you might not have your biological family, but you have found your family at barcelona. 

masterlist

[cherubmm]

Le gasp

I wanna read about the hc/ oneshot of Killer being secretly a cat in mc’s house 🙏🤞

Trigger Warning: Yandere (obvs). Possessive & obsessive behavior. Not-proofread. OOC

It was the dead of night, and the world outside your apartment was cloaked in quiet shadows. From the bedroom, faint clinks and rattles stirred in the dark, a sound that might’ve gone unnoticed if you weren’t such a light sleeper. But you didn’t stir—not yet.

A soft, rhythmic clink... clink... clank filled the air—like something small was knocking into objects. The sound was almost... playful. Teasing.

Suddenly, a small silhouette darted across the floor, slipping past the dim light from the window. Meow. The softest meow escaped, and the silhouette became more defined, growing into the shape of a cat.

The said feline padded silently across the shelf, hollowed eyes scanning the cluttered surface. One photo frame caught his attention, ("*Mreeoww?") — Don’t need these losers ruining my view,' he thought internally, tail flicking as he swiped a framed photo to the floor with a dull thud. His claws came out, dragging over the glossy print. It was one of you and a group of friends, smiling at some forgotten gathering. Killer's claws, however, focused solely on the faces surrounding yours, leaving only your image untouched.

Feeling unsatisfied, he hopped down to the floor, his padded paws making no sound. As he continues to pace around the room, Killer paused briefly to sniff the air, tail twitching in agitation. Things that smelled like them? Gone. He didn’t like that. It had to be yours—everything must belong to you, so Anything that doesn’t carry your scent—gifts, trinkets, random objects—was swatted, scratched, or nosed to the ground. A stray pillow? Onto the floor. A book someone lent you? Knocked off the bedside table.

'You’re going to be sooooo mad in the morning, huh?' His tail curled in delight at the thought. But you’ll forgive him. You always do. You’re too sweet to stay mad at your beloved precious pet. And if you do— well, he'd make sure to nuzzle you extra hard tomorrow to soften you up, maybe a few loud meows here and there?, just to be safe.

His ears perked as he caught the soft sound of your breathing from the bed. You were still asleep. Good.

Killer hopped onto the bed, his weight barely noticeable as he settled in next to you. You were sprawled peacefully on the mattress, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. His faint pinprick expanded slightly as he stared down at you, soaking in every detail. Stuck like this for now, he thought, licking your arm gently with his cold, wet tongue.

Despite his current form, Killer didn’t seem overly concerned with how he ended up like this. Some glitch in teleportation, some slip between AUs, yada-yada,—whatever. He didn’t remember much from the retreat, just that it left him stuck here like this for now. He wasn’t complaining. Not when it meant he could stick close with a cute human that will take care of him.

Right. care.

His tail flicked playfully over your face, a soft nudge against your cheek before he flopped down lay on his favorite spot—his furry tummy right on your face, burying you in the comforting softness of him. He let out a small “mrrp~” of satisfaction, letting his tail twitch lazily for the last time before he curled himself closer to your warmth, letting your scent fill his nose.

Ⓒ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐦────11/22/24. Navigation|Masterlist | Ⓒ 𝐂𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐢────dividers

[comradeboyhalo]

uhh im not gonna speak too much on the current issues but when people refer to shady practices quackity's done in the past, they're talking about issues w his merch company and discord server, there are threads on it from 2021 on twt if you want to know more

[vimbry]

I shouldn't care (gripping the sink) I don't care, but I like how a few of the notes on that post I made about penguin movies seem to think I don't know what a trend is and are explaining how they work, despite using the word trend in the first sentence. hundreds of films come out in a year with different subjects and themes to copy, but for some reason, it was "march of the penguins".

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Lust for love. // Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader.

Summary: Aemond's life has always been a bitter and sour one, the only sweet thing in his life was you, his wife, perhaps too sweet for his liking, yet he neglected you in the past but a series of events lead you both together into love.

WARNINGS: mdni, smut, unprotected p in v, cunnilingus, interrupted orgasm, horny aemond, martial duties, clit stimulation, tiddy succin, body worship(?), gentle and kind aemond but he gets rough during sex, + not proofread, lmk if I missed any!

WC: 2.9k

A/N: divider credits @cafekitsune

The cold breeze brushed against Aemond's face as he walked hastily towards your chamber, his boots clacking against the stone floor heavily while his heart banged in his ribcage.

He was feeling light headed, unable to form any thoughts and only the words of the maester rang inside his skull from earlier. ‘Your lady wife seems to be sick’ he had informed him and those mere words were enough to make Aemond spurt up from his chair in the meeting room and immediately rush towards you.

Aemond, frankly, did not know why he was feeling anxious at the information that you were sick, he did not even like you much and only merely married you for the connections and benefits your family provided.

You were just a mere duty to him, so when did he start caring about you?

He stood in front of your chamber door waiting anxiously as the guard gave him a bow before he opened the door, the mental hinges creaking as it slowly moved. He steps inside hurriedly and immediately lets out a sigh of relief when he sees you sitting up. You just stare at him confused.

“Husband? What are you doing here?” The tone of your voice indicated surprise, because Aemond had never visited your chambers even once since the beginning of your marriage and only called you to his chamber when he wanted to consummate.

“I had been informed by the maester that you were sick.” He replies nonchalantly, tone betraying the true feelings that were whirling on the inside. He wanted to get close to you, embrace you.

“I'm not with child.” You reluctantly tell him while looking down, suddenly feeling as though you are a disappointment. It felt humiliating to tell him that, especially when he came all the way to your chambers, he probably expected that you would be with a child.

Except that was not the case.

Aemond was confused on why you were bringing up that topic now, but then it clicked in his head and he cleared his throat, grabbing your attention before shaking his head, “Oh no, wife, I wasn't here because of that.. I was worried.” He admits and your eyes widen in shock.

Worried for you?

For as long as you can remember Aemond never seemed the type to show affection or concern for anyone, perhaps it was due to his past grievances, you had only heard about his eye through rumours, he never opened up to you about anything. You were a duty for him, someone he needs a legitimate heir from; because it is not as though he doesn’t have whores to seek pleasure from so what is the use of you? ; or at least that is what you had assumed and questioned.

But to Aemond, you were his sweet gentle wife, he was afraid of hurting you, in his vision, you were like a white swan, pure, elegant and graceful, he did not want to scare you lest you fly away from him. He did not know when he started perceiving you in this way, but as time went on, he had developed quite a soft spot for you.

“My apologies, Lord husband, I did not intend to worry you.” You apologised, he shook his head gently. “No need to apologise, how are you feeling now?” He questions and you simply blink at him, “I'm well, better than before.” You reply with a soft smile. Aemond's lip curved upwards slightly as he nodded, “Very well.” He says in a dismissive tone.

Awkward silence falls between you both as you look down, he clears his throat before speaking, “If you'll pardon me- I have to—”

“Would you like to take a walk with me?” The question leaves your mouth in a hurry before you could stop it, a desperate attempt at clinging onto this fleeting moment of affection. He seems slightly taken aback but he nods his head, “I'd love to.” He replies and you nod, stepping in his direction and standing next to him. “Shall we go?” You inquire, “Yes, wife.” He answers and you wait for him to take the first step, which he does; and soon you follow him out of the room.

You both stroll down the garden, admiring the scenery, the breeze was gentle today, and the weather seemed perfect, Aemond linked your arm in his, holding you close to him.

Your skin was soft to the touch and it drove him insane, he couldn't help but stare at the way your breasts pushed up against the material of your dress, he never really properly fucked you like you deserve.

Yet now, he just wants nothing to do but push you against the castle wall and fuck you relentlessly in the garden. Aemond realised that he never heard you moan, or show any type of reaction when he consummated with you.

He wondered how your soft voice would shriek in pleasure, calling out his name in pleasure, how you'd cling so tightly to him, he wished he could witness such a sight. He wished he hadn't gone to whores to receive pleasure while he left his wife dry. He missed out on a lot of things due to his decisions.

He mentally made a note to stop visiting brothels as it would taint your honour, he could simply seek the same pleasure from you. He became more bothered as his imagination went wild.

“... husband…? husband…!” He snaps out of his imagination, looking at your confused expression, “Y-Yes? Please excuse me, I was lost in thought.” He apologises and you give him a soft smile, “You were saying something?” He asks and you nod, “I was thinking about; well; if you excuse my rudeness, I realised we don't know much about each other.” You truthfully tell him.

Aemond furrows his brows in question, “What do you mean by that wife?”

“I want to get to know you, husband.” You stare at him in the eye and his eye widens slightly, and just then he recalls the memory of Aegon's words.

“That woman in the brothel knows more about you than your own wife, don't you find it amusing?” He was taunting Aemond, and at that time Aemond ignored those words, but now that you've openly admitted that you don't know him much made his heart shatter.

“Of course wife, what do you wanna know?” He decides to let his guard down, ready to tell you whatever you ask for. “Everything.” You reply, biting your lip anxiously, your hand travels up to his face, caressing his cheek before you trail your thumb down his scar. He knew what that implication meant and he smiles at you in a gentle manner, his own hand coming up to grab your wrist.

“Of course.”

Days pass by just like that, your marriage with Aemond had improved tremendously after your little effort to get to know him better, you felt bad for him when he began to reveal such vulnerable things, yet you never judged him.

He had shown you all of his vulnerability so openly, from the matter of his eye to everything else. You listened in silence, and he appreciated that.

As Aemond grew more comfortable, he began to show his emotional side, which included both his vulnerability and anger. He would utter treasonous things about his own brother.

This night was one of those cold nights, the cold breeze flew into the martial chambers you were waiting in, the maids prepared you for the consummation as they do, you and Aemond consummate according to your moon cycle since your only duty is to provide him with a heir.

And besides, he probably did not want to lay with you in an intimate manner, or for pleasure. You felt insecure because of that.

You were scared that after all this progress, everything would return to the same way it was before because of this night, you doubted that it would happen but your thoughts plagued you.

You winced when you felt the maid tug at a hair strand accidentally, “Sorry my lady.” She apologises to you, “It is alright.” You respond softly, you stare at your own reflection in the mirror, eyes trailing down your features.

The door to the chamber opens, and Aemond strides in hurriedly, the maids quickly finish fixing you up and leave the room immediately, you get up from your seat and turn around to see Aemond undoing his clothes.

“Let me help you.” You offered, usually he would decline and continue to undress himself, and you expected that again, but his actions shocked you.

He immediately dropped his hands to the side and turned to look at you, waiting for you to walk over to him and help him. You blinked rapidly before rushing over to where he stood before you stood in front of him.

Your hands immediately began to work on removing his vest, your fingers delicately undid the loops, you were too focused on the job that you failed to notice Aemond's piercing gaze. He watched with intent as you worked on removing his clothes, his eye taking in your form. His breeches felt tight.

You pushed his coat off his shoulders and peeled away the vest, revealing his tunic beneath the layers, his garments fell to the ground with a shuffle, you stepped back, leaving him in his undergarments.

He grabbed the hem of his tunic before he pulled it off and then began to undo his breeches, untying the strings. You took that as a gesture to lay down on the bed, facing up.

This is what you did when you both consummated before, you would lay down, he would spread your legs, insert himself, finish and leave.

You expected that to be the case, but you were surprised when climbed on top of you, his face right in front of yours, platinum locks curtaining around you. He stared at your lips for a moment before he leaned in, capturing your lips with his.

You were surprised, and didn't know what to do, so you stayed still, but he bit your lip, indicating his disappointment at your freezing up, and so you immediately tried to mimic his movements.

Your lips danced against his, yet it couldn't match the fervent passion he moved with, it was desperate, intimate and most importantly, filled with love and lust.

All your prior insecurities melted away under his warm lips which were filled with desire and want, he wanted you, he seeked you out.

You both pulled away to catch your breaths, his lips were glossy from your saliva and slightly swollen. Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest.

Aemond moved your night off your shoulder before ripping it apart, revealing your breasts which you immediately covered out of instinct. But he gently grabbed your wrists and pinned your hands to the side of your head.

He leaned down, tracing kissing down your jawline, to your neck and to the soft flesh of your chest. His hot breath against your bud made you shiver in delight.

He hooked his tongue on your hardened nipple before engulfing it with his mouth, you let out a squeal of surprise at his actions but you didn't stop him.

He suckled on it gently, using his teeth to trap the bud in between before licking it with his tongue, he grunted in delight, his grip loosening one of your hands, freeing it from his hold.

He grabbed your unoccupied breast with his now free hand, giving it soft squeezes and playing with the bud, rolling and pinching it. You were new to this, not having any understanding of what was happening, after all, you've only read about it, never experienced such intimate acts yourself.

You rubbed your thighs together, trying to ease the ache that was forming in between them, you realised how sticky the area felt, and how it made it difficult for the friction of rubbing to work.

He notices this, lets go of your breast with a pop, he smirks before he rises off from you and settles in between your legs, this was the position you were more used to.

He spreads your legs wide apart, pulling up your nightgown, revealing all of you. He pressed his thumb against your clit which made your breath, you stared at him confused until you felt him rub small circles upon it.

Your body felt pangs of delightful stimulation, you couldn't help but enjoy the feeling, all of this was foreign to you. Aemond takes a deep breath before he closes in on your cunt, before licking a stripe upwards to your clit. You jolt from the sudden pleasure.

Aemond wrapped his lips around it, sucking on the bud slowly, you whined, grabbing his head for support as his mouth worked wonders down there. You tasted absolutely divine to Aemond, your essence trailing down his cheek as your body produced so much of it. You whimpered, thrashing around lightly as his warm tongue flickered with your bud.

Aemond's tongue swirled around your clit before he captured it with his mouth once again; “Oh! Yes!” You moaned, throwing your head back in pleasure when you felt him nibble on your bud. An unfamiliar feeling of warmth rose in your lower abdomen, you felt as if there was a fire inside you, waiting to combust any moment.

Just when you feet the flames beginning to erupt, Aemond stops his manoeuvres, putting out the fire, you furrowed your brows in confusion, wondering why he stopped.

But when you looked at Aemond, he seemed like an entirely different being at that moment, he had risen up back to his haunches again taking deep breaths almost as if he was trying to contain himself.

He was.

He had never felt such an overwhelming of desire in his body, every time he touched you; his mind scrambled into pieces, he wanted to fuck you so badly.

“Aemond?” You call out softly, confused, wondering if he was disappointed by your behaviour but it seems to snap him out of his daze and he stares at you. “I apologise; I'm finding it hard to control myself.” He admits his thoughts.

“Then don't.”

Aemond swore he heard you wrong.

“What?” He questions you.

“Don't try to Aemond, Don't hold yourself back, I want this, I want you.” You admit shyly.

The atmosphere fell silent for a second and you could feel the awkwardness from your own words beginning to sink in, that was until Aemond moved suddenly.

You shrieked as he pulled your hips onto his lap, wasting no time in inserting himself, you gasped at the sudden stretch, feeling yourself become full of him. You grabbed onto his shoulders for support.

He held your waist tightly, grabbing onto your hips for leverage as he began to move, thrusting himself in and out.

This was a movement you were familiar with, yet somehow it still feels new because of the strange sensation, it felt more intimate and passionate, his thrusts held meaning and it was as if every time he pushed inside you; he was reaffirming his love and desire for you.

He pushed you into the mattress, grabbing your legs and shoving them to your chest as he thrusted hard, his skin slapped against yours loudly, the room echoing the noises.

You threw your head back at the sensation, and you felt the fire in your stomach rekindle and you couldn't help but desperately chase it. “Ah, right there.” You moaned, feeling him hit a sweet spot inside you that fueled the fire in you, you gasped for air as every thrust of his knocked it out of your lungs. “You feel so good, you're driving me insane, wife.” Aemond grunts, his thrusts never once faltering.

Everything about this night together was very different from the previous ones, Aemond had never felt this good and neither have you, he regrets not trying to get to know you earlier. He felt like he was in heaven with the way you clenched around him.

He felt his high approaching, and he desperately ran after it thrusting deeper inside as he groaned and moaned.

Your body jolted up and down the bed and you felt the fire beginning to spread out slowly, you closed your eyes, when you felt the fire suddenly go out, you were confused but as Aemond thrusted one more time it erupted in your body like volcano, coursing through your veins and to your mind.

You moaned loudly, grabbing the sheets and arching your back as your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the intensity, you have never felt this way before.

Your vision went completely white before you could see once again, you felt Aemond finish inside you, his cocking twitching as he spurted his seed deep inside you.

“Seven hells.” He groans, riding his orgasm off, you watch as he clenches his eye shut taking deep breaths.

He looked so ethereal.

He immediately falls down next to you, catching his breath, he pulls you close and kisses you on the forehead, “You did so well for me.” He praises you, and you blush shyly.

Neither of you moved from the bed, having no intention to.

Typically Aemond would leave the room right after.

Yet he didn't.

He was stroking your shoulder gently as you dozed off, head resting on his shoulder.

He looks at your closed eyelids and thinks you're asleep.

“I love you.” He confesses, realising his true feelings.

Your lips quirk up into a smile before you open your eyes slightly.

“I love you too.”

You then doze off into slumber immediately, Aemond's heart picks up its pace, embarrassed and shy that you had heard him, but your response made him smile.

[rafey-baby]

older!rafe can’t always be mean to his delicate flower, can he?

18+ mdni!

c/w: fluff with a little bit of angst in the beginning, older!rafe feeding sensitive!reader pasta & being v suggestive, slight subspace, smut: oral (f receiving), overstimulation & use of daddy

wc: 2k

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sock-covered feet pad along the hardwood floors when she finally hears the lock of the front door turning. Rafe’s home later than usual— a fact she’s entirely too aware of since she’s been impatiently waiting for him to return ever since he left her this morning without so much as a goodbye.  

Usually, she’d stir awake to him smearing kisses all over her face and mumbling sweetened words about how much he’s going to miss her during his meetings— sometimes even wake her up with his cock prodding at her entrance before fucking her all sleepy and sloppy until she’s a sobbing mess.  

However, she assumes he was still mad at her because she forgot to let him know she was going out for drinks after her lecture before her battery had died. Therefore, she hadn’t received his several calls or the texts filled with concern and only a few hours later, did she remember that she’d never actually sent the message regarding her whereabouts. 

When he came to pick her up after she’d borrowed her friend’s phone in order to reach him, he was clearly displeased; merely muttering out a “ask you to do one thing and you can’t even do that. You know how fuckin’ worried I was?” and crudely telling her to go sleep in the guest room because “daddy doesn’t feel like dealing with your shit tonight”, which had resulted in wet droplets surfacing to her waterline while she kept apologizing over and over again, but to no avail.  

In the morning, she’d woken up to a tear-stained pillowcase and a headache. And when she tiptoed over to the bathroom, she realized that the entire house was desolate; he hadn’t even left a note.  

Therefore, she’s not exactly sure how to approach him, hesitant in her movements before she sees him in front of her in all his glory.  

“Hi,” her voice is quiet, but her forlorn face lights up nonetheless.

Rafe is in the process of mindlessly kicking off his shoes when he looks up; a tired smile tugging at his lips when she practically tumbles into his arms in a greeting. 

“Missed you,” she mumbles against his crisp button up when he rests his big hands on her hips in an attempt to steady her.  

“Missed you too,” he murmurs into her hair. “Got you something,” he reluctantly pulls away in order to present her with a bouquet of pink lilies; her favorites. 

“What’s this for?” her moony eyes stare up at him in bewilderment. 

“Drove past a flower shop…guess they made me think of you,” he admits, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek; confusing her to no end. 

“But I thought—” she utters out, hesitant to take the flowers she feels unworthy of.  

“That I was mad at you?”  

She nods, looking up at him with guilt swimming in her eyes. 

He lets out a sigh. 

“Listen, I was, uh, maybe a little too harsh on you last night, okay? I know how forgetful you can be. Was just worried when you weren’t home and didn’t answer your phone until hours later. Thought something happened, you know?” he explains with a calmness that placates her racing mind as she accepts his gift.  

“I know, I’m sorry. Won’t happen again, promise. Texted you today the second I was home, right?”  

“You did,” he confirms as he peels off his suit jacket before sniffing the air. “Smells good, what’re you making?”  

“Oh, I made you dinner,” she says bashfully, almost as if waiting for his approval. 

“You did? All by yourself?” his brows climb his forehead in surprise.  

She nods, a soft smile on her lips before he’s ushering her towards the kitchen and plucking a glass vase from the top shelf for her.

Usually, he’s the one cooking for them since she’s not greatest in the kitchen, always so tired after studying the whole day, she’d probably forget the stove on and cause some sort of a fire due to her absentminded nature. Therefore, he prefers to prepare his girl a nurturing meal whenever he doesn’t have to work late.  

“How was uni today?” he asks as she sets the now flower-filled vase on their dining table. 

“A lot. Was kinda stressed the whole day cause I have so much homework and reading to do, don’t know how I’m supposed to have time for all of it. And then have this group project and the deadline for this essay approaching and…I don’t think my brain works anymore,” she sighs out when she peers down at the steaming bowl of spaghetti Bolognese he places on the counter.  

“Good thing you don’t need to worry that head of yours over anything with me. Let daddy do the thinking for you, yeah?” Rafe’s voice is as smooth as honey, causing her to blink up at him— something cottony dusting over her mind in response to his sugary cadence.  

Strong arms lift her up and place her on the marble countertop before he settles right between her thighs, like a puzzle piece she’s been missing the entire day; tall frame hovering over her even as she’s practically perched on a pedestal.  

Then, he’s picking up the plate in the most casual manner and contently shoving a forkful of pasta into his mouth before groaning in satisfaction.  

“Shit, this is amazing,” he praises around the mouthful.  

She mumbles out a flustered thank you, her thoughts all over the place since she thought he’d still be mad, but then suddenly he’s not. In fact, he’s seemingly in a great mood.  

“Did you eat yet?” 

“No, was, um…waiting for you. Didn’t wanna eat alone,” her volume is nearly inaudible.

He stops chewing.  

“Waiting for me, huh?” he rasps out before he’s lifting the fork closer to her mouth.  

She looks up at him, puzzled.  

“Open,” he orders and she has no choice but to obey— let him feed her because truthfully, whenever she’s around him she gets a little dumb; can’t really focus on anything except his low drawl and gemstone eyes.  

“Good, right?” 

She hums her agreement around the bite, barely registering that some of the tomato sauce stains her chin in the process.  

“Always so messy, huh?” he tuts disapprovingly, even if he’s the one holding the fork.  

However, before her mushy brain has the time to even comprehend what he’s doing, he’s laving the flat of his tongue under her mouth; cleaning it up for her.  

“There we go,” he murmurs as he rubs a thumb over the spot for good measure.  

She swallows.  

“Want some water?” he asks and she nods, all of a sudden unable to utter out words.

Then, he’s tipping a glass of ice-cold water to her lips, carefully watching her gulp down the liquid before he decides she’s had enough— withdrawing the cup in order to drink some of it himself.   

He continues feeding her every other bite and making casual conversation, all the while she feels herself softly slipping into a very specific headspace. And before she realizes, he’s placing the empty dish in the sink with a slight clatter; their bellies full and happy.   

She doesn’t think she wants to eat by herself ever again. 

Then, her foggy mind registers him in front of her again as he pulls her closer— warm palms slipping under her top and his thumbs idly smoothing over her tummy while she quietly stares at him with hearts for eyes.

“You put this tiny thing on just for me, hm?” he questions as his eyes drop down to her cleavage; the pale pink lace doing a very poor job of concealing what’s underneath since she’s forgone a bra (and pants), as she usually does whenever she’s merely loitering around their home. 

“Look so pretty in this,” his dreamy voice rumbles as he swipes a thumb over a covered nipple, causing her to let out a faint gasp at the sudden contact. 

“Ray…” she hums out while he keeps rubbing over the squishy part of her body he knows gets her buzzing.

“Hm? You feelin’ floaty already?” he asks with a gentle cadence. And she’s not sure how he always seems to know just the right words to say in order to turn her into clay.  

“Yeah, missed you so much,” her hazy eyes flicker over his face while he simply gazes at her, before he’s smearing his mouth on hers.  

There’s something hungry, primal in the way he groans against her lips— causing a whimper to escape her throat in response. 

Then, all of a sudden, he’s lifting her over his shoulder as if she weighs nothing more than a single paperclip; making her squeak out a sound of surprise when he jokingly smacks her ass while walking out of the room before throwing her on the bed.  

“Let daddy say hi to his favorite girl, yeah?” he coaxes her before he’s prying her thighs apart and nuzzling his face into her cunt through the material of her panties; nose bumping against her clit, making her shift closer to him.

“Missed my pussy so much, you know? Wanted to fuck you nice ’n slow last night but you never came home.”  

“I’m sorry, daddy,” she can’t help but whimper out when his warm tongue licks over the already dampening fabric of her underwear.  

“Yeah? You gon’ make it up to me? Let me eat you ’till I forgive you?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want,” she blabbers, a whine leaving her vocal cords when he plucks the soaked through material to the side and blows on her sensitive cunt.  

“Shit, you’re so wet already,” he says in awe, letting spit drip down his tongue and onto her folds anyway. Then, he’s wrapping his lips around her clit, making her cry out because she can already feel her orgasm lingering underneath the surface. 

“Need to come, can I? Please m’gonna— ” she says, almost in a trance; already so wound up. And the way he’s practically torturing her achy button with his mouth isn’t really helping. 

After he’s hummed his agreement, she’s not able to hold it in any longer— his tongue poking at her opening when the knot in her belly unfolds. She’s shaking, thighs yearning to close, if not for his strong arms holding them open as he groans around her, seemingly lost in a daze with her taste and smell practically suffocating him.

Since he knows how insatiable she tends to be, he refuses to pull away from between her thighs. And two more orgasms later, she’s a whimpering muddle; desperately trying to drag her hips away from his unrelenting hold. However, he’s entirely too strong and she doesn’t stand a chance.

“Ray, s’too much, need a break—” she complains, eyes beginning to turn watery in response to the overwhelming pressure.

However, despite her protests, he doesn’t stop. Instead, he begins to mess with her entirely too sensitive clit with his fingers now— pressing and pulling and making her whine as tears trickle down her cheeks and she tries to fruitlessly wiggle away from him once more.   

“Nah, you’re good. You forgot daddy does the thinking for you now, hm? And he wants you to give him a few more, think you can do that?” he mumbles against her sticky folds, stuffing the tip of his tongue into her weepy hole as an effort to persuade her.

“I don’t know if I can—” 

“Shh, jus’ wanna make you feel nice, you don’t want me to?” he feigns hurt when he lifts up his head, beginning to mouth over the soft skin of her inner thighs to pacify her; his slight stubble tickling her in the process and making her twitch.

“No, I do, I do…”  

“Then quit whinin’ and let me take care of you, hm? Show you how much I love you,” he coaxes her to give in. And when he puts it like that, she thinks it does sound rather romantic…

[confused-wanderer]

The villains are utterly confused.

They remember the first robin. They remember how bloodthirsty the little gremlin was, how he appeared out of the darkness with a “HIYA FOLKS” that gave people near heart attacks with PTSD so bad they flinched everytime they walked into a dark corner. They remember his grin, baring few too many teeth with a glint in his eyes whenever the bat wasn’t around to curb him. They remember the death stare, the brooding that made no one doubt this was the Bat’s son. They remember how a punch would land a lot harder than it was supposed to, or the screaming that followed. Oh they remembered him alright.

The second one thank the stars was better. The second robin was giggly. He would hop around town, offering his help to everyone who needed it. Sure he was rough with abusers but hell no one cared about them. Matter of fact, the villains were glad because those assholes deserved no sympathy. They remember his puns, his wonder, his innocence and his spark. They remembered his laughter, his concern - the kind that only comes from one who’s been on the streets. This one was better, and the villains thanked their lucky stars. They remembered him alright.

But now, as the years passed and new characters emerged, the crime city saw the rise of two characters - a sunshine happy nightwing and a ready to kill red hood. And naturally, from their experiences in the past, the villains ended up making an honest mistake that ruined the two vigilantes’ reputation:

The villains assumed the first robin was Red Hood and the other was Nightwing. And BY GOD Gotham has not seen unhinged chaos like this.

SCENE 1

Red Hood *drawing his pistol* : Please, reach for your weapon. I’m itching for an excuse for my intrusive thoughts to become extrusive.

Two-Face: You dare mock me little bird?! Well.. I may not have my weapon.. but I have something I know you’d like..

Red Hood: Oh yeah?What’s that?

Two-Face: TAKE THIS! *slams button and coconuts start falling from the sky, all cracking and spilling as they hit the ground*

Red Hood:

Two-Face:

Red Hood: .. the fuck was that supposed to do?

Two-Face: .. HOW ARE YOU STILL STANDING?! YOU HATE COCONUTS ROBIN!!

Red Hood: The fuck- .. wait did you call me robin?

Two-Face *grins* : Yea.. robin. The first one. Thought I didn’t notice?

Red Hood: The first one? Does this *gestures vaguely to himself and his weapons* seem like something the first robin would do?

Two-Face:

Goon 1: I mean.. yeah

Red Hood: What! The first robin was nice!

Goon 2 *guffawing*: I beg your fucking pardon??

Two-Face: .. you took my coin and attached a magnet beneath it so everytime I flipped it it wouldn’t stop spinning. Do you know how long that took me to figure out?? Do you know how insane it drove me?? Joker had to help me out of pity. OUT. OF. PITY.

Red Hood:

Goon 1: ..Also you did steal some of our bones

Red Hood: hedidfuckingwhatnow-

SCENE 2

Nightwing: Hey there buddy! You look frostyl!

Dr. Freeze: Aha! You are too late to stop me robin!

Nightwing: .. robin?

Dr. Freeze: why yes! Don’t act coy, I know it’s you there. Now that we’ve got that clear.. I was wondering if you remembered all those years ago when you gave me a source for electricity to power a hospital keeping my Nora?

Nightwing:

Dr. Freeze: well you weren’t careful enough and never told me how much I could take from it.. so I used it to power so many of my inventions that came after

Nightwing *remembering when Jason was robin and every damn time he came to visit Wayne Manor his room would always run out power and the countless cold showers in freezing winters he had to take because of it*: .. oh? Well, sorry to break your bubble, but that wasn’t me Elsa.

Dr. Freeze: no? You joke around, make puns and I’m supposed to believe it’s NOT you?. The first one brooded like there was no tomorrow. He pissed me off so bad once I overheard him saying his favourite ice cream flavour and I made sure it wouldn’t be available in Gotham for YEARS. You’re not as bad as the first one. I’d remember if you were him.

Nightwing:

Nightwing *firing up his escrima sticks to maximum voltage*: Oh let me jog your memory then :)

[bratbby333]

choso kamo — the boy next door

synopsis you were completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. but choso liked it that way. cw nsfw, stalking, somnophilia, voyeurism, overstimulation, dirty talk, cream pie wc 4.1k

author note i received three separate requests for pervy!choso, dom!choso, and boynextdoor!choso so i decided to combine them into one story to celebrate hitting 250 followers! eeek i love y'all so much, i hope this scratches the right itch in y'alls brains ♡ proofread and edited up by my favorite person in the known cosmos: @remlionheart *+:｡.｡ thank you for pushing me to finish this

Choso was a constant fixture in your life. For as long as you could remember, it was always you and him. His house neighbored yours and your families had become close over the past fifteen years. Your childhoods were intertwined, filled with joint pool parties, barbecues, and movie nights. The two of you even shared a babysitter when your parents would go out on double dates. You carpooled to school, played in the cul-de-sac until the streetlamps came on, snuck through each other's windows when your parents thought you were sleeping; inseparable. You guys even ended up at the same university after graduating high school. You were finally home for the summer and you couldn’t wait to spend time with your best friend, uninterrupted by the hecticness of college.

A brisk knock resonated through your home, the door answered by your mother. 

“Hey! It’s so nice to see you again,” Choso grinned, nodding gently as he stepped into your foyer. You perked up at the sound of his voice echoing through your house. It was difficult to see one another as much as you had wanted this semester; you both explored different hobbies and found separate friend groups while in college, but you always made sure to find the time. You hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, though; the stress of final exams kept the two of you apart. It had been far too long.

“How have you been, honey? How was your semester?” your mother chirped as she engulfed him in a quick embrace. The two of them shared genial words as they caught up with one another. They continued to chat before being interrupted by the heavy sounds of your excited feet thumping down the staircase. He turned to greet you, only to be entrapped in a bearhug, the momentum pushed his body into the wall behind him.

“Choso! Missed you so much,” you squealed, voice muffled as you buried your face into his chest. You breathed him in, the familiar scent of his cologne dancing through your nose. His cheek found the top of your head as his warm hands rubbed gentle circles into your back, rocking you side to side. Your mother smiled with adoration at the two of you. He squeezed you tight before he pulled away, peering down at you. You noticed a light dusting of pink that surfaced on his skin as you looked up at him, but chalked it up to the sweltered heat of summertime.

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” he replied before returning his gaze to your mother while still holding on to you. ”Exams were tough but I’m happy that it’s finally over,” he added.

His attention fell back to you as his hands rubbed against your arms, “But, I’m all yours for the summer!”

*ੈ ✩‧₊˚

You sat next to him on the floor, backs pressed against the foot of your bed. The two of you shared a pizza as a silly rom-com played on your TV. You took turns catching up on each other’s lives while the film faded into background noise. You felt renewed in his presence, the youthful glow of his features reminded you of how he was when he was younger. But your chest began to ache as you thought about how the time you spent with one another would become harder and harder to come by. The conversation lulled a bit, and you willed yourself to voice your concerns to Choso.

“Sometimes I wish we could go back to how things were,” you blurted, hands fidgeting with the pizza box. Choso quirked his eyebrow at the statement. You met his gaze, smiling softly, bringing your knees to your chest. You sighed deeply. Being away from him hurt more than you thought it would, and you never recognized how much you needed him until you saw less of him.

“I miss being a kid…I miss the way we were,” you continued, “Not a single care in the world. I feel like the older we get, the less we’ll see each other. I don’t want that, Cho,” you mumbled, reextending your legs. His heart thrummed at your earnest confession as he leaned forward and captured your hand in his.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere…I can promise you that, sweetheart,” he reassured, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand. 

The conversation quieted, his words of consolation seemed to ease your mind enough for you to fixate on the screen. He watched you through his peripherals as you giggled at the corniness of the movie. Choso tried his hardest to follow along, but there you were, sat before him in a thin tank top and skimpy pajama shorts. He sent a silent “thank you” to the heavens; the record-high heatwave that plagued your city gifted him such a magnificent sight.

He side-eyed you, his vision tracing along your body. He took another bite of his pizza as he drank you in; dinner and a show. His vision followed every dip and curve of your almost fully exposed legs. He was thankful that you felt comfortable enough around him to dress how you pleased, but his dark heart wished you were sitting in just a thong, or better yet, fully nude. His eyes meandered north, hovering over the peaks of cleavage that your shirt didn’t cover. He swallowed thickly, nearly choking on his food when another giggle erupted from you, your breasts bouncing as you laughed.

He smiled inwardly, your fear of losing him warmed his heart. He wasn’t going anywhere. How else would he be able to see you like this; all nostalgic for him, the desperate expression on your face sent waves of arousal through his veins. His desire to know how you’d look splayed out underneath him rocketed through his body as he envisioned your fucked out face when he feathered hot, wet kisses along your neck and plunged two thick fingers deep inside you…how pretty you’d look just for him. What sounds would you make when his throbbing cock was fully enveloped in your gushy walls? Would you whimper and whine? Would you cry out for him? Rake your nails down his torso with your eyes blown wide? He so badly craved the answers to his searing questions.

Your laughter panged through his chest, snapping him out of his trance. You were completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. But he liked it that way. You continued to sit so good for him, eyes casted toward the TV. If only you knew the innocent relationship you had manifested in that sweet little mind of yours was one-sided. For him, it was dirty–downright filthy and sinful. But you would never know that.

Blood rushed between his legs as he shifted on the floor. The movie had about twenty minutes left; he was trying to hold out until then. He was desperate for release, anxiously anticipating the thick load he would shoot out at the thought of you, though he would pretend that it was going inside of you, instead. Oh, how he wanted to breed you. How soft you’d look carrying his spawn. He shook his head as he cleared his throat, single handedly fighting off every demon known to man that was telling him to pounce on you. He couldn’t. It would ruin the close friendship that took years to curate. It would kick him off the pedestal you placed him so highly on, tarnish the clean-cut version of him in your parent’s mind. He battled with his own thoughts as he mindlessly stared at the TV. 

The end credits rolled and Choso stood abruptly.

“I’ll catch you tomorrow, okay? Gotta get some sleep,” he said, readjusting his pants. You looked up at him, confusion evident on your pretty face.

“I thought you were spending the night,” you pouted, before pushing yourself off the ground.

“I know…I’m sorry, sweetheart. But knowing us, we’d stay up all night watching TV and talking instead of actually sleeping,” he played off. The ache between his legs intensified at the thought of sharing a bed with you like you usually did when he slept over. But he can’t. Not tonight…not like this. Normally he was good about keeping his composure, but tonight was different. Your puppy dog eyes didn’t help, either. He so badly wanted to see those same eyes gaze up at him while his cock was shoved down your throat. His dick pulsated against the soft fabric of his shorts as he shadowed you toward your bedroom door, taking an internal note of how good your ass looked as your shorts rode up between your plush cheeks. He nearly lost it as you skipped down the stairs, your precious mounds bouncing in all the right places. You opened the front door for him, spreading your arms to hug him goodbye. He opted for a side hug, knowing damn well you would have been able to feel his hard on from the full-frontal contact. 

*ੈ ✩‧₊˚

You closed the door, pressing your back against it as you wondered what had gotten into Choso this evening. He was always up for a sleepover. You shoved your hurt down, embarrassed by your apparent clinginess. A shudder ran down your spine at the thought of your neediness pushing him away. Your warm body glided toward the fridge, throwing it open and basking in the cool air as you grabbed yourself a drink. You shook the shame from your mind as you shuffled back up the stairs. You peered out your window and into Choso's room; it was dark. He must’ve gone straight to bed. You opened the bay windows to your bedroom. The cool air danced through the panes, swirling around the confines of your dwelling. You inhaled deeply before stripping down, settling peacefully atop your sheets; it was far too warm to be under the covers.  

Choso surveyed you from the comforting shadows of his room. He did this frequently before the two of you had moved away, watching you get ready for bed with a firm grip on his shaft. 

“That’s it, pretty…take it all off f’me,” he muttered. His strokes sped up as he watched you undress, the moonlight that seeped into your room illuminated your heavenly body so perfectly. He huffed as he watched you retreat to your bed, his hand stilling around his cock. The thought of you wasn’t enough for him tonight. He needed you.

An hour or so passed before he ascended the tree that stood tall next to your window. His clammy hands gripped the railings that lined your small terrace as he heaved his body over, careful not to make a sound. He had done this many times before, whether his presence was expected or unbeknownst to you. He crept through the open window and entered your room, settling himself in the chair next to your bed. Your nude frame emanated the most ethereal energy, your bare chest rose and fell rhythmically, the soft gasps that fluttered from your parted lips sent blood straight to Choso’s groin. He palmed himself through his pants, leaning back a bit to shove them down his legs. His hand paced up and down his length agonizingly slow, before he stopped dead in his tracks as soft groans emerged from your throat.

“-oso,” was all that was audible. His blood ran cold as he leaned closer to your slumbered body, ears ringing in hopes to hear more. Was that–No…it couldn’t have been. You shifted a bit, another moan breaking through the silence of your room.

“Mmm…Choso,” you whimpered dreamily, one hand moving to rest just under your navel. His heart rate spiked. He watched as your hand traced lower, snaking its way to your precious cunt. You rubbed sleepy circles in your clit as your head lulled to the side, soft, sweet whimpers dancing from your parted lips. It was now or never. He pulled his shorts back up as he situated himself on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hand against your shoulder. 

You stirred a bit after a few gentle shakes of your body, your eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room. Your body went rigid as your eyes focused on the outline of a person sitting before you, but the familiar smell of Choso met your nose and kept you from jumping out of your skin. You closed your eyes again, the hand that was playing with your wet cunt moved over your body to grab his hand, squeezing gently. Choso nearly broke down at the contact, the stickiness that he so badly needed graced his skin, numbing his brain. 

“Hey, Cho…y’scared me. Thought you weren’t sleeping over,” you murmured. Choso’s conscious worked overtime to keep his composure leveled as he exhaled deeply. 

“Seems like you needed me, though,” he chuckled. You hummed in response, your sleep-ridden mind not registering his comment. You began to doze off once again before panic rumbled through your body as you finally recollected the dream you were just immersed in. Then the realization hit. You shot upright, tearing your hand away from Choso as you grabbed for the covers, attempting to shield your naked body from him. You clicked on your bedside lamp, turning to Choso with your brows furrowed deeply. Your best friend just caught you in the middle of a wet dream. A dream about him. Embarrassment coupled with shame as you held the sheets tight against your body. You were thoroughly confused–what was he even doing here? How much did he hear? You wanted to protest, to plead your case, to interrogate him. A million questions buzzed around your brain, but his hand was quick to cover your mouth. 

“S’okay, sweetheart. It’s just me,” he soothed. He kicked his shoes off and kneeled beside you, hand still firm against your face. Your shoulders were tense, but you relaxed a bit at the baritone voice that fell from his lips.

“Did you have a nice dream?” His question seemed rhetorical. He felt your face flush underneath his palm as you nodded slowly. He removed his hand and you spoke up immediately.

“How’d you know I–”

“Was watching you sleep,” he shrugged. “I’ve wanted you for so long…figured it was a lost cause. But it seems the feelings are mutual, huh, sweetheart?” he cooed, his body loomed over yours as his palm brushed your face, cradling your cheek.

“You were tryin’ so hard to fight it…to pretend those dirty feelings for me didn’t exist…isn’t that right?” He mused. You glanced down at his crotch, the heavy bulge pressed firm against his thin shorts. You audibly gulped, your breath caught in your throat before meeting his eyes. You nodded at him again.

“Bet you dressed like that on purpose…such a tease,” he chastised, thumbing your cheek.

“Gotta make up for lost time, yeah?” He ripped the duvet off of you and moved so he was hovering over you, your body laid out underneath him, his arms placed on either side of your head. 

“Cho…I—we shouldn’t,” your voice wavered, suddenly unsure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders. “I don’t wanna lose you…don’t wanna ruin what we have,” you added, worry painted across your face, eyes fluttering back and forth between his. You were splayed out beneath him, fully nude, every dark secret of yours laid out in front of Choso. The hungry look in his eyes caused your arousal to drip onto the sheets beneath you. 

“Wanted this for years, pretty girl. I already told you I’m not goin’ anywhere,'' his head dipped down to lick a thick stripe down your neck. “You gonna let me take care of you now?” he questioned, lips pressed against your flesh, nipping at the sensitive skin. Your back arched immediately at the sensation. You moaned softly in response as you ran your hands up and down his toned back. 

“Tell me, pretty girl,” his fingers danced down your body, teasing the skin around your core. “Tell me you want me as much as I’ve wanted you,” he whispered in your ear. 

“W-want you…Cho. So bad…needed you for s-so long,” you begged, your brain fogged and voice airy while your hands clawed desperately at his back. He smirked at you as he sat back on his heels, tearing his clothes from his body. Your eyes dragged up and down the man you had grown up with. A part of you knew how you felt about him, knew how much you needed him. But you didn’t understand the full depth of that need until he was kneeled before you, perspiration glistening along his toned body as he repositioned, laying himself along the bed, his face settled right above your dripping cunt. The way he looked at you through his luscious, jet-black lashes set your pounding heart ablaze. 

You couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening. All you could feel were the sharp aches in your core as he teasingly ran his fingers through your slit. He smiled against your thigh as he plunged his fingers in immediately. You gasped at the intrusion before succumbing to the pleasure as the pads of his fingers massaged your sweet spot.

There was a sense of urgency behind his movements; the lack of time he gave you to adjust to the stretch, the way he was thrusting so fervently into you and how hungrily he bit at your flesh–it was overwhelming. He pumped into you, tirelessly working to coax an orgasm out of you. The first of many. He tilted his head down to watch his fingers disappear inside of you. He used his other hand to rub your sensitive clit, before quickly replacing it with his tongue. He wanted to drink you in for as long as he could, your juices satiating the hungriest part of him.  

His eyes blew wide, “Fuck–you’re so sweet, pretty girl,” he breathed, lapping at your core. He needed more, needed you to fall apart on all of him–his fingers, his mouth, his cock. You were going to take everything he gave you. You cried out for him, your hips spasming against the bed. He grinned before latching back on to your clit, sucking harshly, working into you like it was his life’s mission to please you. And in his mind, it was. He was set on releasing a decade’s worth of pent-up frustration on your pretty little body.

“F-fuck Cho–ah!–I’m gonna…” your voice trailed off as your pussy clenched down on his fingers. He groaned at the tightness, tongue still swirling around your sensitive bud. A shudder ran down your spine as your orgasm ripped through your body. He continued to pump into you, suckling harshly against your clit before swirling around your entrance to ensure he drank up every drop. 

He knew he should wait and give you time to recover. But the way your body twitched and writhed for him ripped away the sense of gentleness and morality that he usually had. It was all too much. He wanted to ruin you, to punish you for holding out on him for so long. He needed to be balls deep, needed to mold you around his cock–he had waited years for this. He sat up abruptly, wrapping your shaking legs around his waist as he lined himself up with your soaked entrance. Your chest heaved and your eyelids grew heavy while your body worked through the comedown. He pushed into you, fully sheathing himself inside your pulsating walls. Your eyes widened while your hands pushed against his abdomen. 

“Wait, Cho–”

“S’okay, sweet girl. I got you…focus on me,” he soothed, his pelvis flush against you as he took a hold of your wrists, pushing them over your head and pressing them against the headboard. He found an unrelenting tempo in you. You body spasmed and squirmed at his pace, jolting each time his thick cock brushed against your still sensitive g-spot. He was stuffed so deep inside of you, savoring the way your messy pussy sucked him in. He released your hands and leaned back, finding his bearings on your hip bones, pulling you toward him to meet his thrusts. Grunts rumbled from deep in his chest as he felt you clench around him. He looked down to watch himself disappear inside you, the squelching sounds and labored moans that filled the room made him choke.

“Nasty fuckin’ girl…you’re lovin’ this aren’t ya?” he teased. You couldn’t fathom a response. Your body had passed the point of overstimulation as his brutal pace pulled another earth-shattering orgasm from your wrecked body, painting his abdomen with your squirt. He dropped his head back, animalistic sounds flying past his lips as the warm spray splattered onto his skin. He pulled out of you before shoving right back in. You cried out, body trying to squirm out of grasp.

“C-can’t…s’too much,” you sobbed out. You meant it, it was too much. But the pleasure that clawed its way through your trembling frame was unreal; addictive, even. He simultaneously numbed your body and made you feel every sensation in the known universe. 

“Uh uh…almost done, pretty–stay right there,” he growled, “Just give me one more.” He wanted to live in this moment forever. Every stolen glance, dirty thought, and shameful ejaculation to the thought of you was nothing compared to the way your pretty little pussy clenched around him. He had ached over the mere thought of you for years and his body brimmed with arousal at his darkest dreams coming to fruition. And though he wanted to paint your sloppy walls with his thick seed, the wanton desire for you overpowered his need for release.

Your eyes rolled back in your skull as your shaking hands searched for any part of him to hold on to. You were a panting mess, fat tears running down your face. And it was all for him. He was drunk on the way your fucked out face lazily looked up at him as you fell apart on his cock. He made quick work of burning that image on the inside of his eyelids.

“Doin’ so good. Stay with me, sweetheart,” he grunted, his hips slamming into you. It was so sloppy now…so nasty. He fucked into you with feverish passion, and your body shook as the coils in your tummy crept up once again. 

“C’mon…just one more. Know you can do it,” he urged, his aching cock absolutely obliterating you. His fingertips gripped your flesh so tightly, he prayed it would bruise. He hoped his mark would be left on you, an aching reminder that you belonged to him. You always had. He fucked into you, his tip kissing your cervix so perfectly. You cried out, clenching down on him again, your third orgasm crashing through you in a blinding haze. 

“S-shit…so good. God–you’re fuckin’ milking me,” he growled out as he twitched inside, swears and praises cascaded from his parted lips as he chased his own release. It only took a few more thrusts before his hips stuttered against you and he finished deep inside, pumping you full of his cum. He remained sheathed within your walls, his palms running up and down your dazed out frame.

He leaned down, catching your lips in a needy, wet kiss. You were stunned into silence, your body cemented to the bed, convinced that you had lucidly dreamed this entire ordeal. You winced at the ache of Choso finally pulling out, missing the deep stretch of his cock as he leaned over to scour your drawers for a rag to clean you up. He feathered gentle kisses after each pass of the cloth. He laid by your side and you curled into him immediately, his arms snaking around your fragile body. 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” you whispered, breath shaking. He smiled before kissing the top of your head. “But I’m so happy it did,” you added, pressing yourself deeper into his side as his fingers brushed along your skin, soothing you toward a deep, satisfying slumber. Choso reveled in the dream-like trance he found himself in. His heart soared at his achievement that was years in the making, his body crossing the line that divided reality with heaven. He finally got you, and he was never, ever letting you go.

*ੈ ✩‧₊˚

author notes: thank you so so so much for 250 followers...i literally cannot believe it. if i could remove a piece of my heart and send it to y'all i would

my inbox is open and i'm always working thru my requests, feel free to send your suggestions here ☾

every like, comment, and reblog makes me sob uncontrollably...your support means the world to me xx

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[peachysunrize]

Tryst ⥃ Aemond Targaryen

Summary: Aemond walks in on his newly wedded wife changing, surely she is not as temperate as her father when she catches him eyeing her, is she?

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, kind of enemies to lovers, VELARYON READER!!, reader has silver hair, virging!reader, fingering, reader is angry lol, breeding, lots of scratching and biting, porn no plot! English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 2.7k+

A/n: I missed my pwp era so here is a short rough smut with our prince Aemond! Missed being unhinged, so here is a fiery reader who is just as crazy as Aemond🤭 Reblogs & comments are always appreciated!💕

Marrying Daemon’s oldest daughter was not something Aemond could ever imagine, especially since it was his uncle’s idea to offer your hand in marriage; perhaps you were too much of a rebel to be kept on Dragonstone.

He remembers how much you glared at him the day he and his family came to that old wet castle to visit you and your family, and to settle for an agreement so the qualms between the families would vanish — or at least try to make amends somehow.

What he did not expect was for you to be utterly disgusted and angry at him, to the point when he had to show others you were officially courting, you did not even spare him a glance.

He despises you just as much if not more.

But he does not know why he is walking towards your chambers after the supper which you left in a really angry manner, leaving everyone stunned but him. 

It is late as he walks through the dimly lit hallways of the Red Keep, an hour or two before the dead of the night, and his intentions are not clear enough to see why he is taking routes to where your chambers are. If only he knew why, he would try to avoid it at all costs.

He walks with his hands held behind him, chin up with his good eye scanning every tapestry on the wall, every knight who moves past him, in hopes of finding an answer for his intentions.

Your chambers are not much far from his, it would be too scandalous for husband and wife to be sleeping in different rooms, especially since your marriage happens to be the talk of every gathering and whispers of the court — not to anyone’s surprise, Daemon’s oldest daughter and Aemond Targaryen are a match of flames, burning each other until there is nothing but ashes — but you do not care if you are the subject of laughter among these lowly lords and ladies.

Aemond sighs, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves, trying to keep himself grounded as he walks towards the hallway that ends with a door to your room. He narrows his eye when he finds your knights nowhere to be seen, assuming you must have dismissed them yourself.

He reaches to knock on your door, taking in a deep breath to calm himself down before he rests his hand on the door, watching it slowly crack open. Why would you leave your door unguarded and open? Were you waiting for someone? Were you waiting for him?

With a curious look, he slowly pushes the door open, not wishing to startle you even though he could care less if you jump and scream out of fear, but he gives you this one privilege at least. He winces when the door makes a cracking sound, but he relaxes when he does not hear a sound of displeasure or concern coming from inside — in fact, the low humming catches him by surprise, making his ears perk at the sweet sound of melody filling your room.

When he has the door open enough to peek inside the room, he is taken aback by seeing you slowly disrobing, dropping layer after layer of your clothing on the ground, revealing your bare back to him. 

His lips part in shock, sighing as he takes the newly exposed skin in, watching you drop your clothes on the ground, walking around your nightshift to grab your hairbrush.

Aemond is lost; seeing his wife mildly nude for the first time since he said his vows was something he did not really think about. Every thought he has had about you was always filled with anger, rage, and hatred, but deep inside, he could feel his feelings bubbling with anticipation for something far beyond whatever he had already experienced.

And now, seeing you brush your silver locks with grace makes his chest tighten, but your bare back has his mind turn cloudy and sinful, leaving him breathless as he feels his leather pants tighten.

Subconsciously, he pushes the door open a bit more forcefully than he intended to, making a loud crying sound. He freezes, his eye widening when you scream and turn around, throwing the brush at his face, but he dodges in time, watching in horror as the brush flies to the hallway.

“What is your fucking business here?” You yell at him, reaching for one of your jewelry boxes, holding it up to threaten him with another attack, “Speak, now!”

“I…I—fucking gods, woman!”

He says it with gritted teeth, moving his head quickly when you throw the box at him, hitting the door as he closes it so none of your belongings get lost.

“Were you watching me?” You ask, laughing in disbelief as you walk quickly to grab the nearest book on your desk, throwing at him again, “I reckoned your brother was the pervert one, but it appears it runs in the family!”

“Stop this madness!” He yells back, shielding his face with his arms as the book comes close to hit him in the cheek, “I was not watching, do not think yourself so appealing—“

“You do not find your wife appealing?” You point the candle holder you grab in the blink of an eye towards Aemond, narrowing your eyes at him as you take a step closer, “You come into my room, watching me peel off my clothes until I am naked just to say you do not find me appealing?”

“I did not say that, wife—“ he holds his hands up, slowly backing away from you, his back hitting the wall with a soft ‘thud’ before he resumes talking, “I was merely disagreeing about how I am of a sick mind, I am not, I wished to talk to you—“

“Nonsense!” You step closer, holding the sharp candle holder in his direction, “You said it, I heard it with my own ears! I despise you for being here, for being my husband, for trying to break me while it is you who does not wish to warm my bed.”

“Drop that thing, wife,” he sighs, gently trying to reach and grab it from you but you take a step back suddenly, glaring at him, “Don’t force me to come here and take it from you.”

“I would like to see you try, husband,” Venom drips from your words while you stare daggers at him, your grip tightening around the candle holder “Get out of my room!”

“You are my wife, I will do as I please,” his tone matches yours as he stares back at you, his eye darkening at the sight of your chest visible underneath your thin nightshift, “If I wish to stay here, I will—“

“Get. Out!” 

Before you are given the chance to throw what you are holding at him, Aemond grabs you by your wrist, pulling you closer as he switches your positions and pushes you against the wall; one knee between your legs and both of his hands pinning your wrists to the wall with one next to your head and the other above it.

“Why must you be so difficult?” He whispers, his nostrils flaring as he glares down at you, his fingers tightening around your wrists until you whimper and drop the candle holder, chest heaving as you look up at him.

“I am a reflection of how you treat me,” you spit the words out, craning your neck to lean closer to him, your nose brushing against his, “I despise you for the air you breathe, for the wine you drink—“

“And you do believe that I don’t seeth every time I am reminded that you are my wife?” He pushes his nose against yours forcefully, keeping your head locked against his and the wall with his forehead on yours, his hot breath mingling with your quick panting, “I wish to tear through everything that reminds me of you and your father—“

“Then do, coward,” you cut him off, your eyes falling down to his pink lips, wiggling against his hold, trying to free yourself, “Make me hate you more than I already do.”

And he does; his lips meet yours in a searing kiss, knocking the breath out of your lungs as he lets go of one of your wrists to pull you in closer by your waist, his nails digging into your flesh.

Your hand goes to his soft silky hair, pulling on the hair tie roughly as you kiss him back, threading your fingers through his locks, tugging at the root of his hair while he bites down your lips, freeing your other wrist too.

Aemond’s hand comes up to cradle your jaw, his tongue pushing past your lips so he can taste you thoroughly. He bucks his knee to your clothed core, encouraging you to go ahead and take your fill, rock your hatred into oblivion.

You whine as you slowly grind down on him, your lips falling apart as you break the kiss to gasp for air, your hand tugging at his hair while your other hand goes to his doublet, undoing it quickly while your hips pick up the pace.

“Go on, wife,” he whispers, hand letting go of your jaw before he reaches down to rub your heat over your underwear, letting out a shaky sigh when he finds a wet spot on the fabric, “So much for hating me, your cunt is betraying you.”

“Fuck you—“

“Fuck me indeed,” he pushes your underwear aside, swiping his fingers through your wet folds, enjoying the broken whine you let out.

He leans down, prepping kisses and bites along your neck, sinking his teeth a bit too hard when you push his doublet down and dig your nails in his pecks. Aemond’s thumb circles your pearl, making you tremble under his touch as he makes your essence drip on your inner thighs.

You throw your head back when he gently prods your entrance with one finger, easing the digit inside your warm walls with ease because of your wetness. He hums against your collarbone, enjoying how slowly you are losing yourself in the feeling of being wrapped in his arms — although the scratches you are leaving on his chest through his undershirt are the opposite of what he thinks.

He adds another finger, scissoring you open as he pumps his finger in and out of you, going in knuckles deep while he curves his digits, enjoying how your face twists with pleasure and a fit of anger that fuels because of how it is him who is giving you this pleasure.

“I need more,” you whine, one hand coming down to rest against his wrist, keeping his hand there as he thrusts his fingers faster, the lewd sound of squelching echoing in the room.

“I will give you more,” he goes faster when he notices how your eyes drop shut and your legs start to shake around his hand, your walls gripping his fingers for dear life, “I will make you fall in love with me.”

“Impossible,” you gasp, toes curling as you shake and peak around his fingers, throwing your head back against the wall while you gush and release all over his hand, “You are unlovable.”

“As I said before…” he whispers before he pulls his fingers out, wiping your wetness on your nightshift before he grabs the side of the fabric and tears it in half, leaving your body bare to his eye, “Your body betrays you, wife.”

You look at him in shock, covering your breasts with your arms, but Aemond has none of it; he slaps your arms away, taking off his undershirt, revealing his smooth chest before he grabs you by the nape and pulls you in for another kiss.

Your lips crash into each other, your hands tugging and pulling on the other’s hair while Aemond leads you to the bed, nearly tripping over the pile of clothes. 

He drops you on the bed, quickly crawling on top of you to meet you halfway for another passionate kiss, his hips pressing against the side of your hip before you spread your legs for him, pulling him even closer.

You reach between your bodies to palm the growing tent in his pants, squeezing and relishing in the sound he makes in your mouth before you urge him to push his pants and breeches down enough to free his cock.

You loathe how pretty he is, how pretty his cock is. You despise him for being the definition of Targaryen beauty, but now, the man you hate the most, the man who you have the spiteful pleasure of calling your husband, is about to take you for the first time.

He knows, of course he knows, because the queen would never choose anything less than a noble lady for her precious son; so he goes gently after he strokes his length a few times, pumping it to full hardness. He guides the red weeping head of his dick to your entrance, pushing in slowly, his hands going to your hips as he sits up on his knees so he can watch as he breaches past your muscles, the tip of his cock disappearing inside you.

You writhe beneath him, fisting the bed sheets as you nod and wait for him to go all the way in, pushing you to your limits as the stretch begins to be a bit painful, but he brings your hands to his chest, urging you to scratch him as hard as you wish when you feel any discomfort.

Aemond thrusts himself inside you completely, groaning at the tight feeling of your cunt gripping him like a vice, holding onto him until he has carved the shape of his cock within your walls.

He drops forward, holding himself up by his hands on each side of your face before he starts hammering himself inside you, making you gasp and moan incoherent words underneath him — the princeling in him only lasted for a few minutes, and now, he is just the Aemond who finds you annoying and miserable, fucking you as you are; the wife he hates, the woman he craves.

The rise and fall of your chest grows faster, and you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, fingers leaving red angry marks all over his shoulder blades and back while you lock your legs around his slim waist, keeping him caged against you.

There are no words exchanged, there is no need to when both of you are moaning and groaning at the feeling, biting each other until there are visible signs of your tryst for the court to see on the next morrow.

He feels your walls clenching around his girth, bringing both his and your high closer. One of his hands reaches down, circling your nub so you fall over the edge of bliss, euphoria rushing through your body.

He follows closely, hammering his cock deep inside you until he buries himself into you and paints your walls with his seed, his eye wide open as he stares down at you, lips parted and pupil blown.

He pulls out of you after his body stops shaking, dropping down on the bed next to you as he tries to catch his breath, his arm lying limp on top of your body.

You feel his cum dribbling out of you, alerting you of what you have done. Suddenly, a wave of hatred crashes into your head, and you turn your head to look at his peaceful face before you start shoving him down your bed.

“Get out, arsehol!” You pull the covers on you, keeping them secure against your chest as you try to shove him down on the floor, “Get out of my room!”

“Easy, woman,” he throws his hands up in defeat, fixing his pants before he grabs his undershirt and puts it on, “I do not intend to stay here longer than needed.”

“I hate you,” you say, pushing him out of the door with force, frowning when he laughs into your face but you do not wait for him to reply before you slam the door shut.

But you hear him from the other side of the door.

“Mutual feelings, wife.”

[rhosgobelbun]

steve's been knocking on doors trying to find eddie. he would be annoyed that all he's found are couples and groups in states of undress but this is some random house party, so it's what steve expects.

plus he's too relieved that he hasn't walked in on eddie being a part of any of it.

steve knows it's gross to feel this way. he trusts eddie 100%. it's not right to let past relationship problems cloud his judgement when it comes to what he has with eddie - who hasn't given him any reason to doubt.

but eddie is so new. been together for only 2 months now new.

and tommy was so old. childhood friend/fucked up situationship for 10 long years old. just ended for good a year and a half ago old.

so even though he knows, hopes, prays, that it's ridiculous to compare the two together, steve still checks the bathroom and makes sure the man on his knees in front of some blonde cheerleader isn't his boyfriend.

and then promptly ducks down to avoid a brush the blonde cheerleader throws at him.

'sorry!' steve apologizes. he hurries to slam the door closed and makes his way to the very last room at the end of the hallway.

maybe he left? eddie didn't want to serve here anyway, rich druggie clientele be damned. so even though they came together, maybe eddie had an emergency and-

steve cuts that thought off because well. he found eddie.

'baby!!' his boyfriend exclaims, alone, sitting on the floor in the middle of some random strangers room with a jar of peanut butter. he's got a spoon full of it half way up to his mouth and his eyes are red.

at least 4 brownies deep red.

the wave of relief he feels is actually pretty concerning, but steve will think about that some other time since he's too busy trying not to laugh at how ridiculous the long haird idiot looks.

'eddie, what are you doing?'

eddie looks guilty and for a split second steve thinks maybe he did walk in on eddie with someone else. (maybe he's waiting on them? maybe they already left?)

then eddie holds up the jar of peanut butter and says in the saddest voice, 'i needed it stevie, i don't remember how long it's been since i've had peanut butter. but i didn't think you'd find me! stay back! don't you come any closer!'

so this whole time while steve's been worried that eddie was off doing what tommy used to do to make him jealous, eddie just snuck off and hid away to eat peanut butter because steves' allergic.

starting to snicker, steve goes to sit across from him. 'i can be around it babe, im not gonna die.'

eddie rushes to close the jar, spoon shoved inside and all. he gives steve the stink eye. 'i know what peanut allergies can do to some people. i refuse to watch you blow up like a tomato.'

steve rolls his eyes and reaches out, acting like he's gonna touch the jar.

eddie yells. jumping to his feet, he scurries out of the closet like an over grown rat, 'steve harrington this is exactly why I was trying to eat this away from you!'

steves laughing now, giggling like a hyena. he can't believe he ever doubted this man.

later that night - after eddie has showered and brushed his teeth at least three times - when they're tucked away in eddies room under the covers, steve talks to him about his freak out. eddie apologizes for leaving him alone at a strangers party like that. he holds him close, gives steve a ton of kisses and promises to create a DND character that represents tommy.

'i'll turn him into a toad and kill him off in the most gruesome way imaginable. he'll be murdered to death, the kids will be traumatized. it'll be great. just you wait and see, my love.'

[stsgooo]

Look at Him.

✩࿐ summary: your attempts at reentering the dating scene is foiled by your ex-husband.

warning(s): past relationship, clingy!gojo, ex-husband!gojo, co-parenting situation, crack fic. wc; 1.6k

pairing(s): gojo satoru x fem!reader

a/n: this is purely just a goof fic because i've put nothing but angst out there so far sooo have a laugh. hope yall enjoy :3

“So, what do you do for a living?”

"A teacher."

"Oh, wow! What grade, subject?"

"Uh, highschoolers and the subject kinda varies on the day."

"Like a substitute teacher?"

"Um....sure, yeah! Substitute teacher."

"That's awesome. Mad respect, kids can be demons."

You were quickly discovering that the dating field had changed in the five years that you had been married. An endless back and forth about what someone did, what's their favorite color, what's their hobbies. Boring questions that you would ask your students on the first day was used in over the table date conversation. Until, until, they got to that question they so desperately wanted to ask.

Would you want to take this back to my—

There was a vibration against your thigh as your date started to go onto a monologue about how much he disliked kids. In all honesty, you couldn't really remember his name. The introductions had been awkward and a little nerve wracking— you were almost sure he had no idea who you were either.

You tugged your phone out of your pocket and resisted the audible sigh that threatened to leave you when you saw the notification.

Satoru please tell me why my beautiful, radiant, amazing, intelligent daughter just said her mommy is on a date. feeling sick to my stomach, don't tell me this is true.

You rolled your eyes. Your ex-husband had always been so overdramatic. His main focus was always on the bit that could come from a situation. However, this was a quality you do used to admire about him. His ability to make any situation seem like it was a funny happenstance that you'd never encounter again.

Now, it was nothing more than a nuisance.

Satoru oh my god, you left me on read. it's true. it's true. i hope you know i just threw up. i threw up everywhere. i might die. at least, tell me he's ugly. please god let him to be ugly.

A sigh, you typed out the quickest message you could without your date asking what's wrong.

You I hope you're not ignoring said daughter to ask me about some date. I'll be home later, please refrain from texting me.

You were about to set your phone down when another text came through. This one appeared to more distraught than the last.

Satoru o h your tone. it's over. it's really over. i might just kill myself this is the worst night of my life. y/n, i'm genuinely feeling sick. please, is he ugly? he must be boring because you're texting back.

You were almost inclined to remind Satoru you both had been divorced for a year already. That this was bound to happen and you two had, in fact, spoken about it months into the divorce. You had played with some 'what if's and there was a mutual agreement that the other wouldn't get jealous and be dramatic about the other getting in a relationship whenever the time comes. It was a surprisingly adult conversation.

You should've known better when Satoru proudly proclaimed he didn't care who you got involved with.

You Satoru, we talked about this. We're adults and we're divorced. Please bother someone else, like Suguru.

Satoru i don't wanna talk to suguru. i wanna talk to youuu (;﹏;) i can't believe you've done this. ten years. ten years of loyalty. im sick to my stomach.

You You asked for the divorce.

"Is everything okay?"

You eyes snapped up from your phone and towards your date. He had the good grace to be wearing a relatively concerned expression, eyeing you wearily.

You quickly tucked your phone back into your pocket, ignoring the insistent vibrations it gave to smile apologetically. "I'm sorry, my daughter had an accident and I had to, you know, send a quick text to her babysitter." It was easier to explain away a daughter than it was a clingy ex-husband who was well in his dissent into insanity. Really, you were doing this guy a favor keeping him in the dark.

However, his face still paled and he straightened. "You have a kidI'm so, so sorry. I just went on a two minute rant about how much kids are equivalent to demons." He seemed to spiral as he pressed his hands against his face, uttering curses to himself. "I get so nervous with these dates. I truly meant nothing by it."

You smiled in amusement, "It's no problem, really. I'm not exactly disagreeing." He peeked from between his fingers and blinked at you dumbly. "Just because I'm a parent doesn't mean I don't agree. I mean, my kid can be a bit much sometimes. I love her, but she's a lot like her dad in that way."

It always made your chest blossom. The way Saori was a carbon copy of Satoru. From the rambunctious personality, to the piercing blue eyes, and white hair. Your genes hadn't won in the battle, but you were almost grateful. Satoru tried to tell you that she had your smile and your wit, but you weren't entirely convinced. She was Satoru and Satoru was her.

You were extremely lucky that he was a good dad.

"Oh? Do you mind me asking if her dad's still around?" His tone was indication enough: a daughter and an ex of some kind was pushing it for him.

You tensed up, feeling deep regret already. "Uh, yeah." His eyes shifted away and you reached forward, taking his hand. "But, he's not, like, crazy or anything! He's just a good dad."

Your date chuckled nervously. "I-I just don't want to get involved in some, um, some family dynamic."

You thought it was a little presumptuous of him to think this would go that far, or he'd get in the way. But you were too focused on defusing the situation.

"Oh, no, it's not like that! We've got a healthy balance, y'know? He does his piece, I do mine— that's it!"

He scrunched his face. "So... an open relationship?"

"No!" You press your hands against your face with a huff. "No, we're not together anymore. We just co-parent."

He opened his mouth to further question you when your phone vibrated very audibly. His eyebrows raising. "Your daughter?"

You sighed. "Please give me one moment."

With jerky movements, you pull your phone from your pocket. The assortment of messages that came where spread over the ten minutes you decided to ignore him.

Satoru okay, you've got me there. but my big heart is breaking. i hope he's ugly and he smells. okay, i spoke with suguru and he said i'm an idiot who should apologize. in my defense, i'm a little itty bitty drunk. and no, saori is not awake. papa put her to bed before bringing out the whiskey. im so sorry my beautiful deity. that not ugly, not smelly man is so lucky to be in your presence and i hope you have a good date. also i hope he gets hit my a car. (＾▽＾)

You I'm going to kill you with my bare hands. Genuinely, count your days, Gojo Satoru.

Satoru hot, hot, hot!!! (●´□`)♡ did he actually get hit by a car?

You Is there something you want?

Satoru him dead. and you home :((((

You You don't want me home. I swear to god, if you're on my couch, drinking when I get home, I will ruin your life.

Satoru promise??? ╰(✿´⌣`✿)╯♡ but, actually, i wanted to ask your opinion on something

You For real?

Satoru for realsies. [Image Attachment]

Completely blinded by your irritation, you don't even hesitate to open the picture as it loads. Although you regret it the moment it does.

It's a picture of Satoru. He's at what seems to be the beach (must've been the fun activity him and Saori were going to join Suguru for), his sunglasses were on the top of his head, and he was grinning at the picture. One hand was resting against his pectoral and the veins in his hand was prominent. An obvious attempt at being charming and flirtatious. It was working too.

If it weren't for the fact that you knew him and were his ex, you might've just swooned.

"Oh, my god, is that him?" Your date was staring at your phone with wide eyes. His face even more pale than before. He started to shake his head as he stood, snatching his jacket from the back of his chair. "No way. I am not getting involved! I'm sorry, you're a nice woman, but I know when I'm not winning. And I'm definitely not winning against that."

Your eyes widened considerably, "What? No! Please don't leave. He's an idiot, I swear there's nothing—"

"He is... a hunk. I am not. In no shape or form am I at all comparable to that. Look—" He reached forward, grabbing your phone and holding the picture up to be beside his face. "Look at the difference! Model who has won Japan's hottest man at least eight times before he's 30 to me— Look at him!"

"It's not even like that!" You snatched your phone back and stared at him in frustration. "He's my ex, I do not want him!"

He waved his hands in front of your face. "I know how this will go. You think you like me and then your super hot and super sexy ex-whatever makes you realize the familiarity is good. Then I get dumped." He straightened, latching his hands onto the lapels of his jacket. "I just realized I am a side character. In my own life. Goddammit."

He barely glanced at you as he paid for the dinner, then left as quickly as he could. Still, you didn't even know his name.

Satoru oooo taking you awhile to respondddd still in love with me? (人◕ω◕)

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐔𝐘𝐄𝐑𝐎 ✮ FRANCO COLAPINTO

summary. you hated franco for stealing your friend’s seat not knowing that it’d lead to a night of regret.

warnings. enemies to fwb’s, p in v, semi public s3x, major plot twist at the end, & cheating. franco & reader match each other’s FREAK! 18+

a/n. gif by argentinagp! i love latinos!

YOU HAD PROMISED everyone on the paddock that you wouldn’t judge the new driver too quickly. The week leading up to his arrival had been spent reminding yourself that he didn’t steal Logan’s seat on purpose yet you were still mad. You had grown quite fond of the american over the past months and losing a friend had made you bitter. You couldn’t bring yourself to blame Logan for losing his seat so you resorted to the newly arrived brunette.

“He doesn’t bite.” Alex whispers as he notices the glare you’re sending the brunette.

“But he scavenges.” You murmur as the press surrounds the rookie.

“It’s not like he killed Logan.” Alex scoffs.

He didn’t but it felt like he had. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the way the media had already forgotten about your friend and put Franco on a pedestal. He had just arrived a day ago and already he was flaunting himself as the next Hamilton reincarnate. You turn around too frustrated with yourself for hating him when you didn’t even know him.

“Hola.” A thick accent interrupts your thoughts. You hesitantly turn around only to be met with the guy who took your best friend away. “Those colors don’t suit you.”

“Excuse me?” You replied shockingly wondering where his sense of entitlement came from.

“Ah, lo siento. I meant blue would look better on you.” His cheeks change hues realizing his words came out wrong.

“It would If I cared about Williams.” You smile sarcastically watching as his smile falters. “I’ve gotta go but score at least one point, yeah?”

Franco stays still in disbelief wondering if his comment on your clothes had completely pissed him off. Was his english really that bad? Did he come off too strong? He wondered if the rest of the paddock would hate him or if he was just overreacting.

“Don’t worry about her mate. She’s very reluctant to new people. Give her time.” Alex shrugs.

As the weekend progresses you spend your time between the Alpine garage and the trailers. You were lucky Alex and Lily had agreed to spend the whole weekend with you. You stared at the street as Leo climbed into your lap making you pet him. Practice had just started and you couldn’t help but keep a close eye on Williams. You had began to mindlessly rant to your friends over your encounter with the rookie and how it would most likely take him months to replace Logan.

“When this weekend is over I’m taking you with me to workout because you need to relieve that anger.” Lily laughs.

“No, seriously. You’re acting like he’s committed first degree murder when he had nothing to do with Logan leaving.” Alex sounds concerned.

“Look, I know I sound crazy but I swear there’s something off about him. Plus, y’all do remember the comment he made about me right?” You tried to validate yourself.

“English isn’t his first language it was an honest mistake. Either way he just took that Williams to Q1.” Lily motions towards the screen.

“Whatever. Are we all still on for Sunday?” You asked referring to the plans the drivers had made after the race.

“Obviously. Although we may need to monitor you all night to make sure you don’t damage the new rookie.” The two of them laugh as you sit there annoyed.

The sun was beginning to set as you made your way back to the Alpine garage. Your short white dress was the perfect outfit to keep you cool during the blazing heat of the summer. You were excited to spend the afternoon debriefing with Pierre until you run head first into someone. You try to balance yourself by holding yourself against their chest and as you slowly bring your head up you brace yourself for the apology you’re about to make. But then you see his face and that apology never makes it out your mouth.

“Do you not watch where you’re going?” You scoff at the Williams driver.

“I do. I do it very good actually. Or I wouldn’t be here.” He jokes. “It was you who couldn’t see well or else you would’ve seen me.”

“You’re quite full of yourself aren’t you.” You murmur as you fix your dress.

“People pay me to drive of course I am.” He pulls his sunglasses out his face to look at you directly. He has a glint of confidence in his eye and you can’t help but roll your eyes at his ego.

The two of you stood there alone as practice was long over and the drivers had gone back to their trailers to wind down. Your friends were probably going to ask you why you were late and you couldn’t bear the thought to tell them that you’d gotten into another argument with the rookie. You would get teased for it until the season ended.

“You know this whole hating me thing because you think I stole your friend’s seat, when he lost it because he wasn’t good enough, is so hot.” He smirks.

Any quick remarks you once had were now completely forgotten. His words completely took you by surprise and now you were just confused. Had he taken your witty words as flirting? Had you mistakenly led him on? Or was he just being a prick?

“Though, you could put that mouth to better use.” He says loud enough so only you can hear.

Your cheeks heat up at his comment and you can’t help but feel flustered at his words. Suddenly even the short dress you were wearing wasn’t enough to keep you cool. You instinctively bite your lip as you try to think of anything to say to him but you’re utterly speechless. He’s finally gotten under your skin and he hasn’t even raced yet.

“There’s something genuinely wrong with you.” You say.

“Adiós nena.” He smiles at you before wandering off leaving you all alone to process what had just happened.

The rest of the walk to the Alpine garage is awkward and quick. You try your best to store the encounter with Franco in the back of your mind. You do a bad job at it because his words echo in your mind for the rest of the day. You don’t tell anyone what happened that day because it was weird and also you weren’t even sure what had happened that day.

It’s finally race day and you brush off your white skirt as you walk towards the paddock. You’d meet the girls in the Ferrari garage as Charles had wanted to surprise Alex with a girl’s day. You kept your hands above your eyes to protect them from the sun while subtly trying to ignore the camera flashes headed towards you. As you approach the garages you pause for a little. It had become a tradition for you to greet Alex before any race, a superstition that began when Pierre won the Italian Grand Prix, but now you were hesitant to visit the Williams garage.

You sighed coming up with the decision that an awkward conversation with the Argentine rookie shouldn’t stop you from visiting one of your closest friends. You do a 180° heading straight for the garage. It’s a short walk due to you walking as fast as possible to Alex’s booth. The engineer’s greet you already recognizing your face from the past couple of races. There’s a huge group of familiar faces in the room except the Thai. Your eyes drift around hoping to find him so you’re not late to meet up with your friends but you can’t find Alex anywhere.

“He’s with Lily.” A voice spooks you.

“Franco.” you sigh. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here. The real question should be why are you here?” His condescending tone irks you as he plasters that dumb smirk on his face.

“That’s none of your business.” You reply. “Tell Alex I was looking for him. I’ll be on my way now.”

He grabs your wrist before you can turn on your heels stopping you. You’re now completely face to face with him that you can practically feel his body warmth.

“Something tells me you came looking for me using your friend as an excuse.” He says below a whisper.

“Did your parents teach you that the world revolves around you? Has it ever occurred to you that you are not as important as you think you are?” You scoff. “I’m here for Alex and I would be here for Logan too but you ruined that.”

“Ay, boluda.” He laughs in disbelief. “It seems the only condescending person here is you because guess what? I earned this seat. My parents sold our house so I could be here meanwhile your little friend just spent his trust fund and wasted it.”

You run out of remarks at that. You’d spent all this summer terrorizing him unaware of who Franco really was. Although you weren’t going to apologize, you were too proud for that.

“It’s okay though I wouldn’t expect for a pretty dumb little thing like you to get it.” His voice goes hoarse. Your mind goes blank at his words unable to register his hand ending up on your waist pushing you into him.

Those are the last words he says to you before he abruptly pulls away leaving you alone to process the encounter. Your hand instinctively goes to the necklace on your neck caressing it as you try to regain your breath. You can feel how warm your cheeks are and instantly feel embarrassed at the weird tingly feeling in your stomach. Most importantly you couldn’t believe that out of all the people here Franco is the one who put you in this state.

“Oh, good you’re here! Hopefully I’ll get points today because of you.” Alex smiles at you.

“Go crush them. I have to go though have to meet Gasly before the race. You know go over his strategy for the race.” You stammer trying to find an out of the Williams garage.

“Yeah mhm.” He waves you off. “The two of you better show up to the party! Last one before the break!”

The Ferrari garage erupts into cheers as Charles makes it on the podium again. Alexandria and Lily both scream into your ear as both their boyfriends score points for their teams. Meanwhile you stare blankly as the screen as it shows both Alpine cars outside of the points. Then as if the Universe was making fun of you, Franco shows up on the screen celebrating his P8. You hated him, you hated his confidence, you hated the way he took Logan away from you, but most importantly you hated him because the sweaty messy hair he was showing off made you weak. Your mind instantly replayed this morning’s conversation and you found yourself dizzy.

“Are you okay? Is it cuz you guys didn’t get any points today?” Lily tries to console you.

“No, it’s not that.” You give her a fake smile. “This whole weekend has been kind of too much for me and I think I’m starting to feel the effects. I’m gonna go to the trailers but I’ll see y’all at the party later?”

“Feel better love! Wear something slutty!” Alexandria yells as you walk off.

The pink dress you had picked out for tonight was beginning to annoy you. It was incredibly short so you didn’t know if you should pull it up or down. And knowing Franco would be there made you overthink your idea not wanting to give him the impression that you had dressed up for him. You internally roll your eyes at yourself for even thinking about changing clothes because of a man. That wasn’t you. The effects of the rookie began to scare you.

You don’t waste anymore time heading out the suite and straight to your Uber. It was a short drive and the bouncer didn’t last long finding your name on the list. Lily and Alexandria immediately started screaming at the sight of you and welcomed you into the round table. Most of the drivers were still at the track recovering from their race so thankfully you sat next to Lily with no one to your right. You hoped Alex would hurry up so you’d get to gossip with your friend.

“That rookie ended up with points. I think your hate fueled him.” Lily teases you.

“Are we really going to talk about him, right now?” You sigh.

“He proved you wrong of course we’re gonna talk about it.” She says

“It was pure luck.” You spit out unaware of the brunette walking towards your table.

“What was?” The familiar voice makes you shiver. Lily can’t help but laugh as how wide your eyes go. You slowly turn around to meet the guy that had been torturing you this whole weekend.

“Oh, nothing-” Lily tries to save you.

“Your race today. It was pure luck.” You say defiantly being too stubborn to retract your words.

“Pure luck?” He repeats in disbelief.

“She didn’t mean it-” Lily tries to come to your rescue again.

“Oh, no. I meant it. He’ll be ending up P12 in the next races. I guarantee you won’t see anymore points after this. You’re just here on a test drive and then? Every one will forget you were ever here.” You take a swig of your drink. You don’t even register the malice behind your words being too heated to even comprehend what you’re saying.

His face heats up and his cheeks change hues as he registers your words. You blink and he’s gone. He wanders off to who knows where and it’s then that you register what you’ve told him. You warm up and suddenly you’re dizzy.

“What the fuck?” Lily whispers. “You better go find him and apologize.”

“He started it!” You whine.

“No, you did. You’ve hated him since he arrived when he’s done nothing to you.” Her words make you feel bad. “Now, go find him.”

You stand up adjusting your dress as you scan around the club looking for him. You wander off in hopes of finding him before he leaves. Why was it so hard to find a tall brunette in a crowd of average height people? You give up after five minutes resorting to asking the bartender if he’d seen your ‘friend’ and suddenly you found yourself outside. Franco is leaning against the wall looking at his phone but he’s wearing glasses now.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.” You squeak afraid that you’d scare him off.

He looks up at you not saying a single word. Your presence pisses him off and he starts to walk away. You follow him to the back of the bar stopping him before the two of you got lost.

“Look, I didn’t mean anything I said. I’m sorry.” You play with the hem of your dress being too afraid to look at him.

“Did he fuck you good?” His face is stern.

“W-what?” His words catch you off guard. The temperature around you somehow getting warmer.

“Logan. Did he fuck you good?” He asks again with a meaner tone. “That’s why you’re mad at me, right?”

What you and Logan did behind closed doors was private, something no one else knew. Something you thought the two of you had managed to keep in secrets. Your cheeks flare up at Franco’s discovery. Were you really so bad at hiding your secrets? If he knew then who else did? You were fucked.

“Franco you don’t know what you’re talking about.” You try so hard to lie. His smirk makes it known that he doesn’t believe you.

One minute you’re lying to his face and the other he’s right in front of you eyeing you down. You can practically feel his body warmth as he invaded your personal space. He had one upped you, again. The innocent facade he had in front of your friends was completely gone.

“Ay, que linda que sos.” His thumb traces your cheek. The touch lingers, your cheeks heating up at the contact. “You’re such a terrible liar.”

“There’s something seriously wrong with you, you know that?” You barely say above a whisper.

“No, there’s something wrong with us.” His hand travels down your cheek to your neck.

That last word throws you off because it’s true, the indescribable pull you felt to him was insane, the two of you were insane. You were tired. You were tired of hiding secrets, Franco’s personality, but most importantly you were tired of pretending. Pretending that you didn’t want Franco. So, you do what you do best when you’re tired. You relieve yourself. You pull Franco by the shirt and kiss him ignoring the feel of his glasses hitting your face. He quickly turns the two of you around your back hitting the wall allowing for balance.

The two of you barely pull apart for air losing yourselves in the kisses. His brunette curls find their way into your fingers while his hands sit perfectly on your waist. The kiss grows heated as you pull him closer to you, feeling him. His hand begins to wander down your thighs, pulling them apart and wrapping your leg around his waist. You can feel yourself grow wetter at the new position and then you remember that your friends were still waiting for you.

“Franco, wait.” You groan.

“What? What happened?” He pulls away quickly.

“Everyone else is still waiting for us. You need to be…” You pause debating if this was really a good idea but had anything you’d done lately been a good idea? “Quick.”

He takes that as a challenge immediately pulling you in for a kiss again. The kiss is messy and needy with your hands in his hair and his hands massaging the inside of your thighs. The cool breeze hitting your exposed skin as he lifted your dress up. The roughness of the wall is soon forgotten as he brings his fingers down to your thighs, gliding them teasingly before placing them on your clothed core.

You can’t resist the groans that escape your throat as his cold fingers come in contact with your core. It’d been many weekends since anyone had touched you like this. He swallows your noises with his mouth as he kisses you. Your hands grip his arms as he begins to move his fingers around your folds, spreading your wetness. You remember that it’s been a while since the two of you walked outside and pull his fingers away.

“Franco. We don’t have time.” You gasp in between kisses.

He picks you up adjusting you against the wall while you dig your hands into the hem of his boxers. It doesn’t take long for your hands to venture down and feel him. Your stomach flutters at his size and how he feels. He quickly pulls you away before placing his tip near your entrance. Your morals long gone you grind on him wanting to feel anything. It’s pathetic the way you’ve gone from wanting him out of the sport to wanting him inside you and he notices it too by the way he smirks at you.

You’re about to lash out when he starts entering you slowly. If it wasn’t for him holding you then you’d have lost your balance already at the intrusion. He stills himself waiting for you to adjust to the new feeling. When he notices that you’re ready he pulls out before thrusting back into you, this time filling you to the hilt. It was almost as if he fit perfectly inside you.

“Fuck.” He groans as he fills you completely.

You’re not quite sure anyone’s ever felt so disgusting. You don’t even try to contain your moans as he continuously thrusts into you at a fervent pace. He feels so good inside you hitting spots no one else had before. His fingers leave mark on your hips as you take him fully. He looks down to where the two of you are connected and audibly groans at how well you’re taking him.

“Oh my god.” You whine as he increases his speed.

His hands come back done to your folds rubbing them in circles as he tries to pleasure you even more. Your hand joins his showing him where you need him the most. You can feel your slick coating his dick as he rubbed you. You begin to feel a familiar knot in your stomach as he fucks you into the wall. His hand cups your jaw as he pulls you into a long sloppy kiss.

It doesn’t take long after for you to come undone around him, your walls squeezing him as you reach your peak. He won’t last long with the feeling of you milking him. Soon enough he’s coming inside you, his warm cum filling you up. The sight of the two of you is disgusting and nasty.

The two of you break away from each other and catch your breaths. You lower your dress back down while Franco takes his glasses off to clean them. You check yourself for any runny mascara, or smudge lipstick, and even run your hands through your hair making sure you don’t look insane.

“We should head inside.” You murmur.

“We’re not gonna talk about this?” He scoffs.

“There’s nothing to talk about Franco. At least not know when everyone’s waiting for us.” You scold him. “We’ll talk next weekend.”

You head towards the bathroom first, Franco surprisingly waiting for you outside. The two of you walk in within a minute difference a smile adorning both your faces. At least until you spot Pierre next to Lily and you’re brought back to reality. You don’t waste time running towards the frenchman hugging him as you sit right next to him. Franco can’t help but stare at you in confusion as he notices Pierre’s hand trail too far down when hugging you. But then he spots it. Pierre wearing an identical necklace to yours but instead of a P it adorned your initial. His eyes go wide.

“I see you and my girlfriend have finally made up.” Pierre greets him.

“Your girlfriend?” His demeanor changes with the news. “I didn’t know.”

Pierre begins to explain how the two of you don’t like to be very public about your relationship. You can visibly see the moment in which Franco’s face goes pale. The next few weeks for you are hard racing between the Alpine garage and your girlfriends. Not to mention the quick pit stops to the Williams garage to wish Alex good luck. It’s a shame you get very little time with the rookie but he makes it work. In the end you really hope he doesn’t get a seat for next year, you can’t keep doing this.

[satangcrush]

pact marks

✦ CAST: solomon x reader ✦ SUMMARY: g!n reader, solomon teaches you that pact marks can be deactivated by will ✦ WC: 0.7k

[PART 1] | [PART 2] | [PART 3] | MASTERLIST

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You blink, your head tilting to the right as you stare at the sorcerer with wide eyes, and your upper lip trembling. He matches your stare, as he dips his head to a calculated fifteen degrees to his left.

“What?” Amusement seeps into his voice, as he pursed his lip to stop it from curling into a grin.

“So you’re telling me… this entire time I could have been walking around without these?” You let out a huff, voice coloured in disbelief. “I was basically walking around like a flashing signboard…” You jab a finger at his chest heatedly, face scrunched up in displeasure.

You were in the RAD library studying with Solomon when you came across a book talking about how pact marks could be deactivated by will, you had then questioned him about the contents, thinking that it was inaccurate.

“Mm…I guess so.” You could practically hear him feigning nonchalance as his eyes quickly skimmed over you as you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “Give me your hand.” 

You shook your head with a loud sigh before flinging your hand at the conniving sorcerer which he caught easily in his grasp. You find it concerning at times how carefree and happy-go-lucky he is but alas, if he has managed to survive this long with his attitude, he mustn’t be doing anything wrong.

The whisper of a spell caught your attention as you curiously peered at Solomon, watching as he lifted your hand to his mouth to press an open-mouthed kiss to each of your fingers. A puff of smoke materialised in front of your face and you could feel a breeze of cold air brush past your cheeks. Suddenly, you could see the tell-tale markings of your pact mark on your finger, gradually disappearing as if it were a puddle of water evaporating under a hot summer day.

“Oh my-” You met his questioning gaze before clearing your throat, “Days.” He let out a chuckle, lifting his free hand to give you a light pat on the shoulder. You stared pointedly at your wrist still very much grasped in his but he just blinked and shrugged at you. 

You bite back another sigh. Seriously, you feel like you have aged decades with the amount of sighing you have done around him lately. You opened your mouth to ask, but the words got jumbled in the back of your throat as he squeezed your hands. You decided to ask another question instead, “How long does this spell last?” 

“This is just a temporary spell to cover up any type of markings. For pact marks, you don’t require magic to cover it up. You just need to visualise your pact marks disappearing. Remember, magic is all about imagination.”

You nod, a concentrated frown marring your face as you listen intently to him. “So… I just need to think of the pact marks disappearing?” You take note of how he looks at you with a twinkle in his eye as if he is scheming. He waved his hand, and you felt a shot of cold air brush past your fingers. With a glance down, you could see the pact mark peeking through again on your hand. 

Despite your itch to ask what was on his mind, you decided that it was better that you didn’t need to know. Whatever it was, you don't feel like getting involved in it today. Instead, you closed your eyes trying to focus on the imagery of smooth, unmarred skin that you once had before you made any pact marks with the brothers.

You knew you had succeeded when you heard Solomon take in a sharp inhale of air, prompting you to open your eyes, “You really are a fast learner, aren’t you?” Although, it was normal to get praise from Solomon especially after he started tutoring you in the basics of magic… You still get flustered sometimes.

You starkly avoid eye contact even as he coos at you with praises, walking away in embarrassment as he trailed behind you like a lost puppy. 

══════════════════

a/n ▸ this was supposed to be a fic abt the brothers reacting to mc learning how to hide the pact marks but once again, it got derailed by solomon lol, maybe ill make a follow-up with the intended purpose of the drabble

edit: I will make a follow-up soon!!!! i just hate proofreading 🫠 it's up!! part 2

[lunajay33]

Waiting🖤

Summary: After decades of being alone without a love of his own he finally finds her in a gloomy town of forks, his brother Edward isn’t the only lucky one

Pairing: Emmett Cullen x f! Swan reader

Warning: angsty, fluffy sunshine Emmett

•Masterlist•

I never thought much about the future until suddenly the friends I adored most started relationships and left me in the past as if our friendship never even mattered, like their boyfriend was the most important thing

My sister and I use to be close as kids but when she moved away with our mom and rarely visited me and dad, who she regularly called Charlie, we grew apart leaving me feeling like I lost all my friends and my sister, after a while I grew depressed and I never wanted to leave the house, dad grew concerned and after many absent calls from school he allowed me to start home schooling myself and my grades have never been better

Most nights it was just me and Charlie some days I’d get the courage to go down to the reserve hang out on the beach with Leah, Seth and Jake, sometimes I’d go for hikes in the forest behind the house just to clear my head, but other than that I’d stay in my room listening to music, reading the books dad would bring home for me, and doing school work

That’s how life was for so many years, it was routine and it never bothered me and dad loved having me around, after Bella and mom left he was so broken and with my help, even as a little girl, I pulled him out of that deep dark hole and he became that Charlie that joked around and made me smile

But then dad got the call that Bella was moving back for the rest of highschool since mom would be traveling with Phil for baseball, hopeful that I could reconnect with my sister again

Dad and I picked out a new bed spread for her hoping she’d love it, and he even let me pick out a new book as a thank you for helping him out with getting everything ready for her arrival, after a few days it was time for dad to go pick Bella up from the airport in port angeles, I was a nervous wreck which was crazy I mean she’s my sister why should I be nervous

Finally the familiar sheriff cruiser pulled up in the drive way, I walked out the door with an umbrella quickly shuffling over to Bella to cover her from the rain knowing how she favoured the warm dry weather, complete opposite of me

“Welcome home Bella!” I smiled as we walked back inside as dad got her bags following closely behind

She shook off her coat and placed her little cactus down on the counter

“You’ve grown so much you’re a year younger but you’re already taller than me” she said as she hugged me

“Come on bells we’ll show you your room!” Dad said as he walked up the stairs with her bags

She settled in for the rest of the day until it was supper time, I set out the table and dished up our meal, dads game playing in the background as we ate

“So are you excited for school on Monday?” I asked

“Not really but atleast I’ll have you there”

“What? No im homeschooled remember”

“Well…..” dad drawled out

“Dad what did you do?” My heart was racing now at the implication

“I thought since Bella’s back now it would be good for you to get out there again, you need some experiences honey”

“But you know I have no one there, no one wants to be friends with me we’ve been over this”

“You might make new friends honey, give give it a chance for your old man” I sighed slumping back in my chair trying to wrap my head around having to socialize again

“Atleast you’ll be with me, dad said since your grades are so good you got bumped up a grade and can have some certain classes together, depending on our courses” that settled my anxiety a little

Bella and dad cleaned up from dinner as I sat out on the porch, in desperate need for fresh air to do its magic, only 2 more days and I’ll be back in a school again, who knows maybe some new kids have arrived and aren’t too set in their groups yet

Monday came quickly and I was a ball of nerves, I glanced in the mirror as made sure my hair was just the way I wanted, wearing a casual outfit, simple flared black leggings, a dark rich blue longsleeve with my old worn out dark brown carhartt jacket, quickly spraying my vanilla perfume

I walked down stairs to meet Bella in the kitchen, she grabbed an apple as she picked up her backpack from the table

“Are you ready to go?” She asked

“Almost can I make a tea quickly?” She nodded and I quickly wiped together a chai tea latte, grabbing my lunch from the fridge and meeting her in the truck dad had gotten for us but since I didn’t have my license, seeing as I never needed one before now, she would be driving us

The drive to school was calming, hearing the steady rain fall against the windshield, pulling into the parking lot everyone stared until we got out, I kept my eyes down as Bella led me to the schools main office

“Okay here’s your schedule, we have math together at the end of the day, the bells about to ring so I gotta head to world history are you good to find your way to chemistry?”

“Oh ummm yeah I’ll be fine”

“Okay see you at lunch” she smiled gently before she left down the hall

Looking at my schedule I memorized the room number hoping it wouldn’t be too hard to find, turning the corner I rammed into what felt like a brick wall, dropping my books I look infront of me to see the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen, his eyes a golden amber, hair as dark as night and his skin as pale as snow

“Sorry about that, I haven’t seen you around before” he said soothingly as he handed me the books that had momentarily scattered the floor, not even realizing he had picked them up, too busy oogling him I suppose

“Oh yeah I’m just re-enrolling here again, just trying to find my class” he looked down at my schedule a striking smile adorning his face

“Come this way gorgeous, got the same class” walking along the mostly bare hallways I noticed his gentle glide, I’ve never seen such a…..well such a perfect human, obviously I was way out of my league if I could think he’d ever be interested in me, I mean I’m plain and simple what would he ever see in me, best I stay in my lane, but dad did want me to make friends so that couldn’t hurt….right?

We got to the classroom and the teacher assigned us to sit together, the class went by pretty boring, every now and then I’d take glances at Emmett and I swear he did the same but he was probably just looking at someone else, moments like this made me wish I was a beautiful as my sister, she never had a problem with guys wanting her, they basically drooled over her, even if she never acted on any offers she was still wanted

It felt like I was a living ghost most days, no one noticed me anywhere I’d go, a big reason I wanted to be homeschooled, now I’m thrown back into this miserable place, I’ll bet by lunch time Bella with have a table full of new friends while I sit alone, not even a second glance from anyone

Lunch time rolled around and as I entered the cafeteria I searched for Bella and just as I guessed she was surrounded with bright smiles, excited to get to know her, she glanced my way and I waved hoping she’d wave me over to sit but she just gave a half assed smile and got back to talking with her new friends, I felt my heart rip at that, thinking things would be different this time with her here but I guess I was wrong

I found an empty table near the windows and made myself comfortable for another lonely lunch, I pulled out my bag from my backpack but my appetite was lost and I had no desire to eat so I just pushed my lunch to the side and looked out the window just wanting to go home

{Emmett’s POV}

I couldn’t get her out of my head, she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and her blood sings to me, when she bumped into me in the hallway I felt my whole world shift, she didn’t talk much but just being near her felt right

Lunch came, my least favourite part of the day, having to pretend for an hour, I glanced around the cafeteria hoping to catch a glimpse of my mate again, my eyes landed on her sat alone looking glum a few tables down, the others followed my gaze and smiled knowingly

“Who’s she?” Rosalie asked

“I think she’s my mate”

“Her thoughts are overwhelming loud” Edward stated

“What do you mean?” I asked nervously

“She’s not the happiest girl, I can hear how depressed she is, how unwanted she feels”

“I can feel how broken her heart is” Jasper added

This has to be the worst feeling knowing the one I’m suppose to love unconditionally and she is quite perfect in my eyes, has been broken and feels unloved

I got up from the table and made my way to her sliding in the seat across from her, her eyes were so glazed over with sadness she didn’t even realize I sat down

{Normal pov}

“So how’s your first day?” I jumped snapping out of my thoughts noticing Emmett is sat across from me

“Oh sorry I didn’t see you, ummm today has been fine I guess, thanks again for helping me earlier”

“It’s not problem, umm I was wondering maybe if you’re not too busy this weekend if you’d wanna hang out?” My heart raced at this

“Really? You wanna hang out with me?”

“Yeah of course, who would wanna spend time with the most beautiful girl in the school” his smile warmed my heart but quickly faded at a realization

“Is this a prank, because if it is it’s cruel” I said as my bottom lip wobbled

“No what? I would never do something like that I really wanna get to know you, so how about after school on Friday I’ll meet you in the parking lot and we can go do something?”

“Okay……sure id really like that” his face beamed with excitement

“Perfect it’s a date then gorgeous”

This felt surreal there’s no way there wasn’t a catch here, how could someone wanna spend their free time with me, but like Charlie said it doesn’t hurt to try, I just hope this doesn’t break my heart more

Part 2

[ellecdc]

The other day I was at the pub and some cockroach of a man spiked my drink and this really nice guy was helping me out. He was british!! turns out it was my best friend 😭😭😭😭 Can I please request a reader who's been spiked and either of the boys or ships help her out. I honestly thought james was there I was so drunk 💀 Im being very open about this because it unfortunately happens a lot in my area but I had my girlie with me so it was ok lol if it makes you uncomfortable please feel free to ignore this request! :D

thanks for your patience with this! I'm so sorry this happened to you, but I knew I needed to save it for when inspiration struck (four months later). glad you were alright and your friend (read: James) was there to help you through it <3 -> please note, my requests are currently closed

Regulus Black x fem!reader whose drink was spiked [1.2k words]

CW: spiking someones drink [not described], feeling inebriated due to said drugging, blacking-out/not remembering a period of time, discussion of past vomiting [not described], reader has hair long enough to push behind her ear, hurt/comfort & fluff

Your body felt like it was rolling languidly with the waves; a vessel in search of a shore beyond your line of sight. 

A moan escaped your lips as you followed the waves forward when you felt a cold hand on the back of your neck.

“Do you need to throw up again?”

Again? 

“Again?” You managed around another moan, though your voice came out hoarse and your throat burned something fierce as if you had swallowed lighter fluid. 

The voice simply hummed in agreement; gentle and cautious, its thumb roving back and forth through the baby hairs on the back of your neck. 

“You’re alright.” The voice promised, sounding as though this wasn’t the first time they’d said it. 

“When was I not alright?” You asked through a sigh, sitting back on your heels as you tried to pry your eyes open. 

You were accosted by the sight of a brilliantly beautiful man; short, black curls falling in front his eyes, his dark brows furrowed as his grey eyes scanned your face in concern and perhaps some pity. He lifted a hand and pushed some of your hair that had fallen in front of your own eyes behind your ear; long fingers brushing a barely there touch against your cheek. 

“Are you beginning to feel more lucid?” He murmured quietly, and you noticed then that his position mirrored your own.

Horrifyingly, you were kneeling on the floor of a sterile looking stainless steel bathroom in front of a toilet; you could still hear the thrumming bass through the walls, but you were clearly much further into the building than the bathrooms attached to the dance floor.

And then there was this beautiful man - this beautiful, angelic man with a jaw that looked to be chiselled from the finest stone kneeling beside you; the knees of his well-tailored black dress pants on the ground of a public bathroom, the sleeves of his white button-up shirt rolled to his elbows as his hand returned to the back of your neck where it continued its comforting ministrations. 

And then you saw a name tag. 

“Regulus.” You recited, and you hoped that you didn’t look as disgusting as you felt in the presence of such a handsome bloke. You decided you’d be embarrassed about it later.

“There she is.” He murmured quietly, though you had the impression he was mostly talking to himself. “Can you drink this for me?” He asked then, offering you a cup of water that you went to accept without hesitation.

Your limbs seemed to be working against you; your arms moving in slow motion as you took the cup from his hands, and shaking nearly violently as you brought it to your lips. 

“Easy does it.” Regulus coached as you took slow sips. “Very good.” 

“What happened?” You asked then, relinquishing the cup back to his much more capable hands that he placed beside him. 

“I…I think the guy you were dancing with spiked your drink, darling. I’m so sorry.” He explained, no longer able to look you in the eyes but voice taught with ingenuity. 

“Why are you sorry?” You asked then, trying to intonate humour into your words, though even your own ears recognised how tired you sounded. 

His grey eyes met yours again; regret, guilt, and remorse swimming behind his irises. 

“I should have noticed sooner. I should’ve been keeping a closer eye on you, maybe-”

“S’not your job.” You offered quickly, patting the back of his hand currently resting atop his knee clumsily. 

His face darkened slightly, though he lifted his hand to welcome yours into its grasp. “I’m supposed to make sure everyone’s having fun and staying safe.” 

“Well…” You started, pausing to look around the dark and quiet bathroom before returning your eyes to him. “It sort of looks like you’ve kept me safe?” 

His lip quirked again, though he didn’t verbally agree with you. 

“Have you…been sitting here with me the whole time?” You asked, and if you were feeling any better, you probably would have tried to tease him for the furious blush that took over his face. 

“I- well, yeah…the bouncers were already looking for the bloke and…I didn’t want you to be alone.” 

You tried to smile at him - your body still not cooperating to its fullest extent - but based off of Regulus’ returning smile, he seemed to have picked up on it nonetheless. 

“That’s very nice of you; you’re very nice.” You murmured, changing positions from your knees to sitting with your legs crossed. It was clumsy, and Regulus had to catch you from falling over once, but you thanked your earlier self for deciding on the jeans and not the skirt. 

“So you’ve said.” Regulus replied; a teasing lilt in his voice that immediately flooded you with embarrassment. 

“Oh god; what did I say?”

“Nothing too embarrassing.” He mollified, but the pleased smile on his face and the blush on his cheeks told you otherwise. 

You groaned and let your head fall back against the vanity, both the echo it caused and the small sound of protest from the back of Regulus’ throat signalling you to the fact that it was probably going to hurt later. 

“Please tell me? S’not fair that you can remember and I don’t.” You pouted miserably; you had been teasing (mostly), but the result was Regulus’ face falling immediately as he returned to his earlier guilt. You felt awful for it. 

“Was nothing bad, really.” He offered noncommittally. “Something about having a - erm - guardian angel, and…that I was…beautiful?” 

Your hand itched to reach out and touch the cheek of said beautiful guardian angel where it was a lovely (and furious) pink - to see if it was just as warm beneath your fingers as it looked - but between your lack of coordination, the bone deep tired that was settling throughout your body, and the fact that up until….maybe two minutes ago, you hadn’t even known his name, you fought the urge. 

“Well, good thing I didn’t say anything that was untrue, I suppose.” You offered simply, hoping you didn’t smile too brightly when you saw his head snap up in your peripheral as he stared at you in awe. 

“You’re a flirt when you’re inebriated.” He accused.

“I’m a flirt when I’m sober, too.” You volleyed, allowing your heavy eyes to close knowing you were in safe and welcome company. 

You swore you could hear the smirk that took over his face. “Now that I’ve got to see.”

“Yeah?” You asked, lifting your head to smile at him. “Want my number so you can find out?”

He rolled his eyes goodnaturedly and pulled out a paper and pen from his waist apron before jotting something down. 

“How about you text me when you’re feeling better and you can decide if this wasn’t all just a bad dream or something.” 

“A bad dream with an angel in it?” You teased. “Impossible, Regulus.” 

God, that blush. 

You would definitely be texting him tomorrow.

[celeryb1tch]

innocent!reader x experienced!pervert!abby is rotting my brain tonight!!!

18+!! this is lesbian smut!

you sit at a table in the mess hall, abby’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and her friends all enjoying their dinner. casual conversation is thrown around the table, until manny’s new fling is brought up.

“-and i mean, SOAKED the sheets. i couldn’t believe my eyes,” he recounts proudly.

everyone is laughing along or rolling their eyes, but abby notices your hesitance. she leans down toward you with a concerned look. “something wrong?”

you shake your head lightly, looking up at her. “jus’ don’t get it,” you reply.

abby feels her stomach twist. she had known there wasn’t great sex ed on the WLF base, but she and her friends had grown up around doctors like her dad and she realizes she hadn’t know the full extent of just how ignorant you were. and admittedly, it made her excited.

“she squirted when she came,” she tries to explain gently. but you still look utterly confused, even as she goes on.

“…come? and she didn’t pee?” you seem so utterly lost. abby wonders if it makes her a bad person to expose you to these ideas, but you’re both already adults. still, that knot is twisting inside her deriving a sick pleasure from all of this. you had always looked up to abby, and she wondered how wrong it would be to corrupt that relationship with talk of sex- or even a demonstration?

that night, you’re laying in bed thinking about what abby said earlier. with all the training and violence you’d grown up around, you hardly had time to pay attention to the ache between your legs, or how it would usually occur when abby was around. but as you recount that conversation in your mind, it appears once more. you think of her arm wrapping around you, pressing you into her hard front. how she was still warm and sweaty from the gym, and how her flyaways stuck to the sides of her forehead because of that. something inside of you is saying you should be embarrassed, and you don’t know exactly why- but a louder, much louder, part is telling you to confide in your best friend. she would never judge you, right?

you shuffle down a few hallways in your fluffy socks until you reach one of the bigger accommodations: abby’s room. and with a bit of hesitance in your knock, you step back as the door opens immediately.

abby is clearly groggy, and must have also been getting ready for bed. she’s wearing nothing but boxer shorts and the usual black sports bra she has on during patrols and workouts. her hair is tied in her signature braid, with more wispy pieces that have come out throughout the day. “hey, you. everything okay?”

you nod and push past abby inside as was usual. she joins you on her bed, your bare thighs touching as you both sit. her eyes are on you and you can feel it again- that heat. you pull away slightly, squeezing your legs together as it’s the only thing you know eases the feeling.

abby pretends not to notice, just like she does any other time you blatantly stare at her muscles or blush when she touches your waist. she doesn’t want to scare you off, especially when she thinks she can tell what you’re going to ask about.

“you remember earlier at dinner?” you say, biting your lip slightly as unease turns in your tummy. and abby just nods, still looking right at you. “how manny said he made a girl, uh…”

“squirt?” abby offers. she says it so nonchalantly, like it’s nothing. like she’s never in a million years thought about fucking you until you do. like she wasn’t hoping this would happen every second after dinner.

“yeah, well, i realized there’s probably a lot of sex stuff i don’t know, and since you… y’know…”

poor baby, she thinks. how will she ever work up the courage. and abby thinks of all the times she’s teased you about all the women she’s fucked. called you jealous that you had to split quality time with her one night stands. seen you pout about her missing games night because someone asked her on a date in front of you. surely you were going to ask for her expertise- for her to help you out, to show you?

“since your dad was a doctor.”

oh. that was it? you wanted a little anatomy lesson. then what was all the embarrassment for? were you that ashamed of asking for a little bit of guidance?

abby gives you a soft smile and an assurance that she can help. and your body floods with relief. this is normal. you can tell her what you’re feeling and she won’t act weird. she can help you.

you stand up and strip off your pyjama bottoms and big shirt you had likely stolen from abby so long ago you don’t remember whose it was in the first place. and she just watches, small smile still on her face as she looks you over.

“okay, so right here? boobs, obviously.” she points to your chest, and you roll your eyes.

“i know that, stupid. show me the more advanced stuff.”

“you’ll have to take your underwear off then.” so you do.

abby instinctively reaches for it, stroking her fingers between your puffy, wet lips. her eyes are shining with admiration and her cheeks are hot.

you pull away slightly at the bolt of pleasure that spikes through you at her touch. “is it… supposed to look like this? i think there’s something wrong.”

she shakes her head fervently, eyes never leaving your pussy. “you’re just wet, that’s all. did something turn you on?” and at your confusion at the term- “get you excited? when girls see something attractive, they get wet.”

oh no. you can feel dread flooding your senses as you try to scramble for an explanation. that it just happens sometimes. that’s normal, right?

after a pause, and a look at your face, abby knows exactly what happened. “oh. you got wet from me, huh?”

you want to run away and disappear. you swallow a sob, but strangely, you feel that pulsing sensation again. all of this attention from abby isn’t working in your favour.

but she isn’t grimacing in disgust, or even asking you to leave. in fact, abby has a shit-eating grin on her face as she watches you cower in front of her.

“you’re not… mad?” you ask sheepishly.

abby reaches out to you, pulling you onto her lap. “no, baby, of course not. it’s cute.”

relief washes over you, but before you can really relax you feel abby’s hand once again on your folds.

“so wet for me, baby. how long has this been happening?”

a finger skims against a particularly sensitive spot, and you choke on your words, succumbing to the blissful feeling. “s-so long, abs. like forever.”

“poor girl. so pent up, so needy. and too embarrassed to tell me.”

“yeah…” you whine. you’re clinging to abby like a lifeline, overwhelmed by the building tension. it’s unlike anything you’ve experienced before. so intense, so all-consuming.

abby’s fingers are expertly caressing your pussy, steadily adding more pressure so as not to overstimulate you. “this is the clit,” she murmurs, and you feel that electric spark again as she glides over one specific spot at the top.

“it’s too much,” you cry out, wriggling under her grasp.

“that means you’re cumming soon,” she explains with a chuckle. “feels so good, trust me. just ride it out.”

and you trust abby with every ounce of your being, so you try to relax your muscles as much as possible while you feel that climbing feeling come to a boil. and she was so right. you’re huffing tiny sobs into her chest as you come down, her strokes easing as you’re finally able to catch your breath again.

abby cradles you into her, clean hand running through your hair. you can feel the puddle between your thighs dripping down her own and onto the sheets, and you’re so exhausted.

“that was so hot, baby. did such a good job for me.”

“abs, that was… wow.”

she’s smiling down at you, admiring your sweat- wicked face. “bet you wish you’d asked me sooner, huh?”