#i think i finally found the word for what’s wrong with me

[hivemuthur]

i have a request for some ✨emotional, pinning smut✨ for viktor x female!reader based on “Crush” by Cigarettes After Sex

like viktor getting so flustered while watching her try on clothes (“i want to watch you as you’re trying on your clothes, and now you’re all i think about when i’m alone”) and him being just so down bad for the reader

and the sexual tension between them is *palpable*

just some good ol friends to lovers pinning, resolved with some smut

please and thank you, i love your writing 🥺🥺🥺🙏🙏🙏🙏

Hi Anon! I loved this request so much you have no idea!

Skin

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! lots of yearning, poor Viktor :v

author’s note: It's exactly what is says in the request. I listened to a lot of Cigarettes After Sex for this and when it began to annoy me switched to Grimes and remembered she had some good stuff going on in 2012, hence her song Skin will fit this as well if you read with music in the background :) @rennethen beta read!

word count: 2,4K

—

Viktor is trying to figure out a way to sink further into your armchair, have it swallow him whole—legs, arms, fingers, every single strand of his hair—before he disintegrates into a puddle. He had no idea it was going to be this bad when you said, "Can we just rest instead of studying for once?"

Sure, he could rest. He’s tried resting before. What could go so especially wrong? Other than, say, you deciding to organise your wardrobe on a whim while he’s trying to read. And then, when he finally gives up on reading—because it is physically impossible to keep his eyes anywhere but on glimpses of you dressing and undressing, tossing clothes around—another thing that could happen is you parading around in a T-shirt long enough to hide your underwear, but not long enough to hide your legs. And it’s just for a moment, just to change a song or take a sip of your tea, but it’s enough for him to sink so deep into the chair that he can feel the springs digging into his ass.

Or, say, you stepping out of the wardrobe in an appallingly microscopic mini skirt, asking, "Is this too short? Am I too old to wear things this short?"

Yes, it’s too goddamn short.

"Hmm, maybe a little?" he offers, trying so hard to make it look like you’ve just interrupted his reading. The same sentence, for about the fifteenth time—but he really is reading. So, just a glimpse. Just one look at your thighs, where they inevitably end and something else begins, and the skirt is so, so short he can almost—

"A little too short, or I’m a little too old?" you chuckle, and—God forsake you—you turn, and your ass cheeks peek from underneath, and now he knows you’re wearing a pair of white knickers. Just plain old cotton, but what it does to him. There is almost no chair left for him to squeeze himself into.

"Uh… both?" he offers weakly, not really knowing what he is saying, and you shoot him a look of mock offense.

"Forgive me, clothes are far from my areas of expertise," Viktor says, finding his voice—and finding some strength to look away and focus on the sentence he’s been trying to read forever. And the voice he’s found is nowhere near dignified enough for him to look you in the eye. It’s exasperated and breathy in a way that makes you pause for a moment before you shrug and retreat to the wardrobe, and he can breathe again.

"Expertise or not, you must have an opinion on something, Viktor," your chant reaches him as you shuffle between hangers, pulling out the next number to reconsider—a dress this time.

"Must I? I will remind you, I was lured into a trap with the promise of a study date, which somehow turned into a fashion show." Viktor mutters, shifting in the armchair—his stomach muscles actually ache from being flexed the whole time. All the forced breaths, all the cramps in his lower belly, are giving him such a hard time.

"Trapped? Excuse me, are you being physically restrained?" you ask, stepping out, your arms folded on your chest, having no idea that he actually is. Having no idea that his legs wouldn’t work, that if he were to stand up and leave, he’d have to crawl out instead.

"I am," he states bravely. "Weighed down by the sheer gravity of this experience." And you smile, thinking that he jests, but he really doesn’t.

Viktor looks at you in your silly dress, his face burning even hotter, lids heavy from all the warmth pooling inside him. He swallows, and you mistake the struggle for restraint as mockery.

"Oh, sod off," you cackle at the look on his face and step back inside, deciding you’ll keep the dress. "You're free to study if you want, you poor soul."

"Thank you, merciful creature," Viktor grits through his teeth, now carefully studying the letters in that one goddamn sentence he’s been trying to read for the past half hour. He’s never felt less free to do anything.

Finally, he admits defeat and puts the book aside. He takes a sip of his tea—now cold—and thank God for something cold in his mouth, because his tongue is a piece of burning coal. Stretching his legs in front of the chair, he surrenders to this slow, exquisite torture: watching you try on skin after skin, none of them particularly vulgar or filthy, but the sheer thought of you being nearly naked just a wall away makes something writhe inside him. Once in a while, he catches vignettes—an arm, a bra strap, a thigh, a little bit of bum as you lean over to pick something up.

And he would have done something a long time ago, but you are such good friends. It would be a real pity to complicate things. So he bears it—all of it. Every accidental touch, every fleeting glance, and allows himself to wonder sometimes, when your face dusts pink around him, if it's really his doing or just circumstantial evidence. If your pupils dilating at his lousy compliments mean something, or if you simply like to be praised. If you invite him over for his exceptional conversational skills. And if yes, he wonders how disappointed you must be today, as all he’s given you are quiet grunts and chuckles to cover how close he is to being absolutely ruined.

His skin is still burning when you step out again, this time wearing just a long sweater, and even that does something to him. You lean over him to press next on the music player, and Viktor catches a whiff of your scent, forcing his eyes not to roll back. He fails, so keeps them clamped shut.

"Is this also undergoing the purge?" he asks, clutching at straws, desperate to redirect his thoughts to any other thing in the universe but your skin under his fingers.

"I don’t know, you tell me." You pause mid-rise, face suddenly close to his. He blinks slowly, and you make nothing of it. His pupils are blown wide, lips parted, but you make nothing of it—just wait for him to reply.

"You must have an opinion," you press, and it feels like you are pressing on his chest, forcing the answer out of him.

"I like the sweater," Viktor whispers, taking the sleeve hem between his fingers. His skin brushes yours. "I like all of your clothes, actually." A confession finally escapes him, voice barely there as something sparks between the contact. And suddenly, you're no longer talking about clothes.

You glance at his eyelashes—long and dark, boyish and shy as his eyes move between two points: your wrist and his fingers.

"This one… is nice," he swallows, accent cutting his words into whispers. He can’t help it. He indulges—just once—in the light brush of his thumb across your wrist, where the skin is so thin he can feel the stutter of your heartbeat.

And you are aware of what’s happening in your chest. But you feel less embarrassed once you spot the similar rhythm pulsing through the vein on Viktor’s neck. And you tell yourself you are only checking if his heart is beating equally fast to yours, not staring. You tell yourself that while staring at the column of his throat and imagining how your tongue would fit in there. How Viktor would lean his head back and sigh if you pressed your lips to this tiny point where his heart echoed.

With you frozen, hovering over him, Viktor doesn’t exactly indulge further—but his hand moves outside of the jurisdiction of his will, fingers wrapping around your wrist. Once his suspicion is confirmed, though, he moves with intent. His fingers slip beneath the sleeve, caressing your forearm before sliding back down, memorising the shape of your knuckles. Your hands are so cold against his, burning, but it’s not the hottest thing you’ve felt yet.

Gently, carefully, he lifts your hand and holds it close to his mouth, palm facing him. His lips barely press against your wrist, and you exhale, your breath visible in the movement of his hair. Still frozen, you close your eyes as Viktor’s mouth travels up your palm, your nails grazing beneath his ear, goosebumps rising along his neck in response. Your fingertips catch on the plush of his lips before he sucks them into his mouth—his tongue hot, hotter than even his touch, swirling over your index finger. You can feel the edge of his teeth against your skin, and your forehead presses against his as you pathetically moan out his name.

The moment the silence is broken, he stops, and it takes everything in you not to whine. He chuckles out a nervous sound but doesn’t let go of your hand.

You decide you owe him the next move. Slowly—so painfully slowly—you shift in front of him, sinking onto your knees on either side of his thighs, still hovering just above him as you weigh the moment, wondering if shoving your fingers into his mouth was enough of an invitation.

Viktor’s hands answer for him. They slide up your legs, thumbs hooking over your hips to press you down onto him, and he groans at the contact. He squeezes, despite himself, looking drunk on the sensation of your core pressing against his, both of you sinking into the tight embrace of the chair. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tangling into his hair, and Viktor gasps, „Oh, God.” His eyes remain closed.

Your fingers on his scalp are almost enough to have him undone, as his hips buck up and you follow his cry with a less dignified, “Oh, fuck,” catching on his lips.

"Please say something," a plea escapes him on an exhale, eyes still hooded, as if opening them could shatter the moment.

Instead, you press your lips to his—a light, hesitant touch at first. Viktor startles, and for a moment, you both just breathe into each other’s mouths. Then, as if something clicks into place in his mind, Viktor moves his tongue. Licks your upper lip, tentative, before his hands slide up your sides—one wrapping around your waist, the other gripping your neck as he pulls you deeper into the kiss.

His mouth claims yours, firm, almost bruising, and he catches up on breathing through his nose. Thumb stretches out your cheek and when you part, it’s only for an inch. He finally looks at you and you whisper, “Something.”

Faces close to each other, foreheads touching, you wordlessly reach for his belt and Viktor’s eyes follow the movement of your fingers. You tug on his pants to slide them down his hips and take in the vision of his cock, outlined in his boxer briefs, throbbing and leaking, a patch of wet cotton sticking to the head.

He grabs your hips, slides them over himself and you both moan as your wet underwear meets his. Hands everywhere on you, under your sweater, on your ass, as if Viktor can’t decide where he wants to touch you the most. His lips find your neck and your spine arches, your cunt pressing firmer on his cock. You feel his breath coming in hot pants with each movement, his tongue swiping along your neck, lips sucking hickeys into your skin.

He tugs at your jumper and with no words said, you lift your arms to help him rid you of it and do the same with his layers, baring his chest. You kiss his clavicle, and Viktor can’t help but whimper at the feeling of your hot mouth against him.

His fingers hover over your back, a silent question about your bra but before you can nod or say anything, you undo it with one flick and Viktor’s lips are on you immediately. On your breasts, on your nipples, just frantically licking and nipping before his tongue travels back up, tracing a slick line through your sternum, your neck, chin and lands back in your mouth.

He pushes you closer to him, your chests meet, and you sigh at the feeling of his heartbeat next to yours. You kiss him and between kisses Viktor breathes, “God, you are so wet.”

“You are so wet too,” you reply, and he chuckles. You rub against each other, your hips rolling on top of his and he hides his face in your neck, forcing himself not to come before you. You wrap your arms back around him, mouth hanging open against his forehead, his hair tickling your face. One, two more rolls of your hips, two more rubs against his clothed cock and you come twitching, pressing his face into your throat, with a force that could snap his neck, and he both feels the moan vibrating in your larynx and hears it ringing in his ears.

Not letting you go, he ruts into you, sliding his cock between your sore, swollen lips, soon to join you with your name falling from his mouth in a quiet broken whimper, muffled with a bite on your neck and you can feel the wetness spreading between your legs, hot and sticky as your underwear merges into one mess of cum. You both breathe heavily, stay embraced before looking at each other.

When Viktor shivers beneath you, you suddenly remember that you might be crushing him and wince, asking “Am I hurting your leg?”

“No, God, no,” he mutters into the pool between your collar bones and his breath is still so warm. His palm is splayed on the nape of your neck, heavy and firm, other encircles your waist. You comb his hair away from his forehead and look at him firmly. “So… fashions shows. Not so bad in the end, huh?”

He cackles, caught off guard. “Not so bad, no,” he muses, looking you deep in the eyes. Spent, happy, cheeks pink and hair tussled, he looks so pretty it takes everything in you to not smooch him in another kiss. “I might want to frequent those more often,” he says bashfully, and you smile.

“Oh, there is a lot to be seen. I haven’t even begun with the underwear drawer,” you whisper against his lips and kiss him softly and to Viktor it’s abundantly clear, that he will have to crawl out of here were he ever going to leave.

[fanzou]

I Can Love You

♡ A Valentine’s Special

✗ Pairing: Law Trafalgar x Fem!Reader

✗ Summary: You insist that Nico Robin is the right one for him, but he wants to show you why you’re wrong.

✗ Total WC: 6.5K

✗ CW: SMUT! Reader is a little jeeeeelly of Robin and Law’s friendship, reader is also a Straw Hat, LAW HAS A BIG DICK, p in v sex, Law teases too much [let me know if I missed any]

✗ A/N: Enjooooooy!

“You know I was thinking,” you start, and he's ready to rolls his eyes. “Robin and you’d make a great couple.”

Even though he was facing the opposite direction of you, you can tell Law’s face was littered in a scowl.

After spending over 2 weeks with him, he was easier to read. It came with its perks and, well, Law was Law and there wasn’t much else.

“And why’s that?” He feigns interest in what you say, raising his head in your direction while throwing the blood littered gauze pads in the trash can next to the desk. “I think you both would complement each other pretty well. She’s quiet, you’re quiet, she’s pretty wise, you are too.” You pause for a moment, then continue, “She’s also very gorgeous.” You wiggle your eyebrows, with a mischievous look.

“I suggest you take care of those wounds on your body before you worry about who I should or shouldn’t be with.”

Known for your blunt and straightforward manner—he respected it, in truth—pirates weren’t known to talk so formally amongst each other anyways, but this, he would be lying straight out of his teeth had he said he wasn’t taken aback by today’s new invasive question you’d ask him. You’ve said some weird things, never anything about his love life—which was… nonexistent, in your own words.

And yes, you make that very clear to him. A lot.

He looks over to you with your finger to your chin as if deep in thought, like you Straw Hats even had anything to give thought toanyway, and you finally speak, "Yeah... she might be too good for you. Scratch the thought."

He chuckles, “You wound me.”

“But if you had to choose from any woman in your entire life to ever marry, who would you choose?” And he has to remind himself that you are completely and entirely under the influence of painkillers, otherwise he would have mistook you for a 5-year-old with the way the question was structured.

“Definitely not you.”

“Law!” You pout. He makes sure that his back is facing you again so he could sneak in a little smile. “That’s actually a good thing. I’m out of your league.”

He turns around to look at you, hand on his heart, “My heart truly cannot take anymore heartbreak.” He says in the most monotone voice you’ve ever heard from him.

For most, it was weird that you were left behind by your captain, but in this case—and with a whole lot of begging from the Straw hat himself—you were rushed to Law’s medical aid. Mindlessly running into battle to protect your friends from a life or death situation wasn’t so appealing when you had to face the consequences for the next month.

But you insisted that you didn’t regret your decision if it meant that everyone was safe; or in Law’s words, you were just careless and dumb.

Even though Luffy himself had to be pried away from your side by the swordsman and the cook while you were unconscious for the first few days, Law had explained to you that they had to get a move on (In your crews complete and utter reluctance) for the next up and coming battle when you came to. And when you found out, you were a bit upset to be parted away from them, but quickly found comfort in Law's presence while you were bed-ridden, cracking jokes about how you’d call him captain until your time was up on his submarine.

He looks over to your bandaged condition, high off your ass, and he almost wants to laugh. Even in your drugged out state, you talk about your friends in such high regard, and try playing wingman with him.

You disrupt the comfortable silence while he looks over some of the stuff on his desk, “You’re not gonna believe this, but I’m feeling much better. Y’think I can go back on my own ship yet?” You’re already stretching your arms out. He calls your name with his signature “-ya” attached to it in a scolding manner, “What did I say about moving?” Damn Straw hat.

You immediately deflate and look down, “You’re not letting me do anything. I feel fine.”

“It feels that way until you move a little too much and start to open your wounds again, give it another week and we’ll see how you’re doing.” He’s looking through some pages on his desk. “We can go on another walk tomorrow if you really wanna move that badly.”

“Thank you, Cap!” You beam at him, he feels his heart jump a little bit.

-

Another week has passed and you’re itching to go back to your found family. It’s been this way for the past three weeks, but as the month goes by, you’d just grow more and more eager.

You made him question why he was even doing this often times.

He was a little offended by your verbalized pleas to get out of here, like he wasn’t helping you. In his own little ways, he tried satiating your boredom by doing things that were almost out of character for someone such as himself. He’d even let you tell him about your fellow crew members to make you a little happier.

You’d talk about Luffy quite often, maybe because he knew him way better than anyone else.

You talked about Robin and Nami as well, about how you felt like they were the sisters you never had growing up, about how close you were to them, about how you each met, he was almost sick of how much you talked about them. But if it meant that you were doing okay then that was all that mattered.

Is that why you said that thing a couple weeks ago? About Nico-ya? There was a sincerity in your voice. Robin was a beautiful woman just as you proclaimed, she was around his age, and all the things you said about her held truth.

Maybe it was true—Nico Robin was the woman perfectly crafted for him. And he couldn’t deny her beauty.

He brushes his hand over his face--maybe out of confusion or frustration, he can't decide. But he hated the conflicting feelings that resided in his mind, they made no sense. He never had an issue with women. He didn't want to.

From the day he met you, his beating heart understood an appeal his mind couldn't, you had an annoying personality. You made dumb decisions. You said things too brutally. You never thought about yourself and it was bound to get you killed one way or another. He didn’t know if it was because he’d been spending extra time with you and getting way too familiar with you, but he’s letting himself enjoy it far too much. And he doesn’t know how he’d feel once you parted your ways. He’s never been this close to a woman before, be it the lack of female subordinates on his ship, or his lack of intimacy with just about everyone, it’s a lot for him.

When he has his arm on your hip to assist you in walking and you have yours on his shoulder, he feels his heart rate picking up a little more.

Sometimes when you get tired you beg him to carry you back to your room, he pretends that he hates it, as he leans over for you to get on his back.

And the first week was hell for him when he had to wash you, because bloodied bath and scars aside, your body was beautiful. Every inch of it. He didn't want to be a pervert. He kept chanting the words; this is a doctor and patient relationship, this is a doctor and patient relationship, this is a doctor and patient relationship in his head when his mind almost slipped to unholy places. If you weren’t in so much pain at the time you’d probably have teased him for how red he looked.

But right now you seem fine, and you and Law (sometimes Bepo) have been going on walks around the submarine every morning now to get you used to physical activity again, you fall into the routine pretty quickly and you don’t seem as depressed as the first few days you were here.

A day ago the submarine ascended out of the water and met with dry land. He was conflicted in telling you— he didn’t know how you’d react. You’re in a completely different place now, different from where you were almost a month ago, it must've be a little weird to come outside after 3 weeks.

It was something that Chopper was extremely adamant on, only because he knew your tendency to wander and extreme desire to explore anywhere you went. You were quite the adventurous one, which is why the Straw Hat himself was probably so upset over your departure.

He sits next to you in a chair from your bed, mentally preparing himself and thinking on how he’d formulate the way he would go about telling you.

Would you stay by his side? Would you immediately go someplace else, and without him?

You’re sat upright in the bed waiting for what he had to say, “We’ll be getting some stock in this new place and I want you to come with us. Just to see how you do.” Your eyes get wider with every word that comes after the next, and you’re smiling. You hadn’t smiled this hard ever since you got here.

What he doesn’t expect, is you to throw yourself onto him. “Thank you Law! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Your embrace is warm, and easy to get lost in and he refuses to let himself have that pleasure. "Do they have a carnival? Can we go out to eat?"

He rests his hand on your waist in an effort to pull you off.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, you just got your stitches off.” And he does well to hide the small smile that starts to form.

-

Law insists that you have to be with him, no questions asked.

If not him, then Bepo—the usual routine. It kinda made you mad, I mean, why not go with the other crew mates? You needed the new faces, but he insisted that he wasn’t as confident in their skills to take care of you versus his. Bepo was far more comfortable to be with given his warm and fuzzy embrace. And you envied the captain for having him be apart of the Heart pirates instead of the Straw hats.

You’re excited to finally go out and enjoy the traditions of this new place, you’re wearing a tight dress that looks almost too good on you.

You made a joke to him earlier and told him you were surprised that he didn’t make you wear one of his jumpsuits the rest of the crew worse, then you’re calling him Captain Law to egg on the joke further. All he does is tsk and roll his eyes, like all the time. But you can tell he’s gotten more comfortable with you, and you appreciated it.

Anyway, the town’s food was delectable, you grab some food to-go and eat it while taking a stroll through the busy streets, the smell of more food, presumably some fresh-baked bread met your nostrils and you sighed out of pure satisfaction.

Your partner, on the other hand, all but scowled.

Which gave you an idea.

“Law, let’s go try some bread. I bet they have it freshly baked the way it smells so good.” You hang off of his arm to try and get him to come with you. And he swears the close proximity shouldn’t make him feel weird. He’s been much closer and he’s seen you in much more vulnerable circumstances, but this was different.

He kinda regrets telling you about the bread thing.

“C’moooonnn, you’re a liar if you say you hate bread.” You’re pulling him by his arm now, insisting on getting him into the bakery to try some sweet bread. “I never said I hated it, I said I didn’t like the taste.” This is practically a push and pull game now, “People are looking at us. We’re keeping a low profile, remember?”

You pull away from him in complete and utter defeat and tuck your hands over your chest.

He doesn’t want to miss your touch, but once again, his heart betrays him. “You’re no fun.”

He doesn’t have to miss the skinship for long, almost instantly you’re body is hanging back off of his bicep, talking about the next subject of your absolute fascination, which now happened to be a huge teddy bear plushy that was on display at a ‘convenience’ store. Not only are you closer to him but he can feel your breasts pushing onto his arm. He shudders.

And he tries remaining calm and reminding himself to not be a pervert, you always did this. You always touched him, he touched you. You were doing this as a means for support to walk better (even though you’ve been walking fine for a while now). That’s it.

You interrupt the awkward silence between you two before he starts to feel the immense guilt come over him and he thanks you in his head. His very perverted head. “I feel so much better now that we’re on land again, I feel like I haven’t had fresh air my whole life.” You breathe in and breathe a heavy breath out. “You’re exaggerating, you were on deck not too long ago.”

Your next movement makes him tense, you lay your head on top of his tattooed shoulder. “Thank you so much for taking me out, Law.” And give his captured arm a little squeeze, inevitably making him feel your breasts so much more.

He wants to die.

Collecting himself, he clears his through, “You’re making it seem like this is a date. I’m just here to monitor your progress.” He looks at you then looks ahead.

“Why can’t it be a date?” You ask him, still hanging off of his arm.

If you didn’t feel him tense then, it was especially obvious now. And he was trying to mask how weird he felt when you said that, but every part of him felt really hot, and he prayed that his cheeks weren’t tomato red right now.

“Aww! Look at them, young love, huh?”

“Ooooh, they’re an attractive couple…”

“They’re so cute!”

He calls your name a little coldly, “Get off of my shoulder, you’re sending people the wrong message.” He actually didn’t mind it, but he swears he might die if he feels your breast push up on him one more time. “Sorry…” So you withdraw your body completely from his, (which he totally doesn’t regret at all) and you start your walk with him again, minus your body on his this time.

Letting your eyes wander once again and away from Law, you settle on a trinket store, and the idea of buying Usopp a little gift pops into your head immediately. Just because.

You walk into the store full of weird things galore. You settle on a super shiny thing first and when you pick it up, the salesmen is immediately by your side, “This is a one of a kind (doo-hicky) which can only be found on this here island! (you saw this thing at the convenience store as well) Usual price would be 20,000 berries, but for your pretty little self, I’ll make it 19!”

“Yeah, no.” He immediately deflates.

You continue your walk through the store and not shortly after you land on something that you immediately found more intriguing than the last.

“Law look at this! You would love this!” You turn around,

But there’s just one problem.

Law isn’t with you anymore.

Oh.

And when you wave the salesmen off empty-handed, he seems a little angered but bids his goodbye and fake come again! as well. You look towards the street and it seems like it’s gotten busier.

“Law’s going to kill me!”

You try fishing through the crowd and scanning for a white spotted hat, or fuzzy white fur, but everyone looks plain and simple. Which makes you think about how you guys kinda stick out like sore thumbs… anyway.

You search and search until you find that signature hat you’re looking for, excuse yourself in between what felt like hundreds of strangers and you catch up to him. You grab his hand in excitement, “Law!” Only for it to be quickly taken back, it was a stranger, with eyes that you’re sure could burn holes into you. You say your little sorry and resume your search.

After a long period of searching you’re drained, physically and mentally. You’re sure that if he found you he’d probably strap you down to your bed and not let you leave.

Well, that doesn’t sound too bad.

You’re defeated, extremely, entirely. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t been outside like this for what felt like forever, maybe it was the fact that the sun was setting now, or even maybe it was ‘cause you needed Law with you the most right now. You find a near bench and just sit.

And maybe that exhaustion finally got the better of you, because you swore you could see his big muscular tattooed figure paired with Bepo's white fur walking towards you as you dose off into a really, really nice sleep.

-

The sound of one—no, two muffled voices wake you from your slumber, your vision is blurry, and if you were right about him saving you, you could hear what you assume to be Law’s medical instruments clacking together. A sound you’ve grown all too familiar with.

“Captain, you don’t think that’s a little harsh?”

“Do you see what she pulled out there?”

Bepo is silent for a bit, then sighs, “If you think it’s best for her.” He leaves the room on his own accord, leaving just you and the very scary man alone.

“I know you’re up.” He calls you with a firmness in his tone.

Much to your unwillingness, you sit up straight, tail between your legs. He looked a bit unkempt, and you couldn't pinpoint if it was because of you or something else. In whatever way, you felt a little guilty.

“Just plain reckless and obnoxious.” He towers over you, “I have a job to complete, and that requires you being taken care of.”

He's pacing around in your room-- the room, of his ship. Not yours. You've never seen him like this. Like he was distressed. He stills and looks at you.

“You’re not coming out the rest of the week. You can wait until Straw Hat comes and picks you up.”

“What am I, a child?" You swing your legs around to meet the floor and pick yourself up.

"With the shit you just pulled, maybe."

With a scoff, "That's low, even for you, Law. It was an honest mistake and you're making it seem like I almost got us killed? You knew what you were getting into when you took me out!" you pinch your nose in a mix of frustration and some previous dizziness. "Sorry I can't be like Robin!"

Huh? Like who?

He immediately looks at you, and sees a little a tiny but of regret in your face. Like you had just got caught with a big secret.

Well maybe, that’s what it was.

“What is your deal with me and your crew mate, huh?”

Your confident demeanor is quick to fade away and if he didn’t know better, he would say that you were almost a bit embarrassed now. He really couldn’t tell what it was. You weren’t angry anymore, that was for certain. You’re not looking at him with those harsh eyes, you’ve been reduced to silence.

It makes him think a bit. He says your name in an attempt to get you to look at him and he succeeds.

“You wouldn’t happen to be…”

“Jealous?”

If there was ever a more dramatic gasp, it certainly couldn’t have topped the one that just came out your mouth. “How dare you! Not one bit!” Suddenly he has this new profound confidence to him, and his frustrations suddenly wiped clean off his mind. He looks at you with his grin all-knowing, and by God you hated when he did that. You wish you could have wiped it off and smacked it off of him.

“So explain to me, what’s the point of mentioning her again?” You don’t realize it, but he’s inching a bit closer while you’re avoiding any and all contact with him, you’re red. Red all over. Cheeks, ears, neck—everywhere. And you don’t know what to do with your hands, you can feel them collect sweat now. You don’t know why. Because his accusation was false.

He’s in front of you now.

“W-What are you doing? Law?” You scan his face because his stare down is relentless and unforgiving, and his hand finds its way up your neck and soon your chin. He’s awfully quiet. It’s unsettling. You put your hands on his chest to hopefully put a halt in the proximity. “Can you please te—”

His mouth is on yours. It’s a little shocking at first but you’re not pulling away.

And you don’t remember closing your eyes and snaking your hands around his neck, and pulling him in, but you do. His own tattooed hands found caressing your body. And the kiss was really, really passionate. He didn’t think it was gonna be this good, but he was wrong.

He was always wrong about you. Wrong about how he didn’t think you were right for him, wrong about your personality, attitude, everything. He really wanted to stay wrong until you would leave and he’d hardly have to see you again. He’s almost pissed he’s letting himself bask in your warmth and intimacy.

But now that he has it, he can’t go without it.

Few words are exchanged, but what he can do is guide you and put you back on your bed with your lips barely still connected trying to reach for each others and you think to yourself, for a man who claims to not have had so much going on in his love life he sure was skilled in whatever this was. He doesn’t want to take them off of yours. He can’t now. Your hands are under his shirt caressing every part of his torso. The feeling of his abs turned you on so much more and you felt your cunt throb a bit. You were aching for his body and he could tell, he takes his lips off yours with a whine from you that follows suit and immediately licks, sucks and kisses your neck, your audible satisfaction letting him know that he’s made you feel great.

“I need you… so bad.” You say in between huffs.

“How can I be so sure you deserve it?” He gets up, and takes his body off of yours, lips glossy. “How do I know that you won’t pass out on me, either?” He disguises his slight worry in a taunting statement, he’d try being as gentle as possible but he couldn’t make any promises.

“I won’t do that, and please Law. It was a mistake, honest. I need you inside. I wanted this so bad. Please!” You tug him by his shirt, urging him to come back down, he doesn’t. He thinks on your words a bit. You wanted this just as much as he did.

“Take your clothes off.”

He laughs at the very quick work you make of taking every single article of clothing, save for your bra and panties, off. There it was, the very image that kept him up for nights, shamefully touching himself to the thought of you on top of him, and him on top of you. Soon he joins, dropping his shirt and jeans and all else except his boxers, to the floor. He returns to your neck, his body on top of yours and you can feel his clothes dick pressing onto your clit ever so slightly, it draws a shaky breath out of you. “Do you know what you do to me?” He slides down your bra to continue his trail of kisses and licks on your nipples. “And you’re worrying about someone else. You’re so pathetic.” You arch impossibly closer into him and start to buck your hips into his crotch.

“Need it sooo bad, put it inside me already, pleaaaaase!” His dick is throbbing in his boxers now. He shakes his head “You’re not prepped.”

“I’m wet enough, please baby. I need you inside of me.” You claw at his chest in an attempt to get what you want.

But he refuses, he can’t. He goes down on you anyways, taking off your panties and the string of wetness that connected from your underwear to your cunt validated your statement. This was straight out of one of his wet dreams; you sprawled out and begging to be filled with his aching cock. He wanted more than anything to make you beg for him like your life depended on it to carry out the fantasy but, he was afraid he was just as desperate as you were right now. He continued and gently presses your legs up, swiping his thumb across your slit to test the waters (literally), your slick gathered onto his thumb and made a great lubricant, but he still wanted to make you feel good.

He licks his thumb clean and settles between your legs and gives your throbbing heat a few lips and sucks on your clit. He can feel you shake underneath him, and he separates your legs by your inner thighs to get a better angle.

The image in front of you made you hot, that’s all you could say about it. It made you hot and shaky and you thought you were going to die if you didn’t feel him inside of you soon, Law hears your pleas, and to temporarily compensate for it, he sticks two fingers into you while he’s practically making out with your clit. You look down with an almost drowsy expression, your moans get so much louder but you don’t even care anymore. He was sexy and he was eating you out. That would be your excuse to anyone who dared to get too close to the door.

His two fingers were pretty big enough to even cause you a bit of trouble alone, and his constant prodding and scissoring made you seethe a bit, but you didn’t care because the pain and the pleasure mixed together made you feel the growing orgasm in your stomach. You shout his name, “I’m gonna— I’m g-gonna cum… mmm~” your whines and moans are breathy.

But he pulls away, and you look to him in shock. He gets up from his position and he’s on his knees in front of you, and he’s threatening the hem of his boxers, you quickly forget about your failed orgasm, knowing the main course was yet to come.

It almost feels like when he pulls down his boxers, time is in slow motion. Maybe because you wanted him extra due to the lack of action you were getting, and your inability to masturbate for the longest time, were you so eager to get him in your pants, nothing prepared you for when he pulled down his underwear.

And now you understood why he wanted to prepare you.

When he pulled them down, his cock shot right up and bounced a little bit before it was like it was staring right at you. You gulp. Because that’s all you could do. And you didn’t even want to look at Law in the eye because you know he was gonna give you some smug and shitty smirk. Like a hypnosis, you get in position and spread your legs further.

“You ready?” He puts one arm next to your head and crouches down a little bit, you can’t even speak. You just hum. You’re expecting him to get it over with, but now he’s just stroking your slit with that absolute beast, “You sure you’re ready?” And now you’re forced to look away from the heavenly scene and into his dumb and beautiful eyes.

“W-What was I saying for like the past 10 minutes? Put it in!” He only chuckles at how you jump at him, demanding him like you have any control. So he slides it in, head only. With your hand on his bicep, digging nails as you’re squeezing him both down there and with your hand that looks for some kind of help in his arm.

He removes his hand that pushes his cock inside and rests in on your chin to bring your eyes up to him, the action was so gentle it could’ve made you forget what was just going down. “Just look at me.” It makes your heart flutter.

And while you do, you feel so much better about the monster that’s sliding into you inch by inch. You furrow your eyebrows at him and chant his name like some sort of ritual. He’s almost all the way in, and the beads of tears in the corner of your eyes make him twitch inside of you with a groan. He looks at you like you hold the answer the all of his problems, like he just wants to be here with you only, and that’s exactly what it was. Like he’d pass away peacefully if it meant he passed away in between your legs.

Once he bottoms out, he stays there a little bit. He gives your lips a quick kiss before he moves into you, elbows on each side of your head. Each thrust is more powerful than the last, and he mentally curses at himself for not removing your bra so that he could see your tits jump freely. You’re on a different planet at this point, nothing has ever felt better. You look into his eyes, then down at what’s connecting you and you swear you could cum right there.

“‘F-Feels… so… good. Hah…” his thrusts find a comfortable pace now, “I feel full and good. Thank yoooouuummmm!” This is what you had been reduced to, thanking him for fucking you.

“Such a fuckin’ slut. Maybe I should keep you all to myself. For good.” His thrusts pick up a little bit now, “Straw Hat’s gonna have to fight me for this.” You whine in response. It took pretty quick for you to start to get cock-drunk off of him. He didn’t take you for the overly sensitive type but here you were, begging him and thanking him for some dick. He would so use that against you later.

He kisses you again, and he’s settled into you a whole lot more. The position changed a little for his body to be closer to yours, and almost in an instant does your skin start slapping against each other. You were a moaning mess, the new position held so much intimacy and so much of him was on you. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Don’t stop. I’m almost there, I need it. Need it so bad. Let me have it!”

“Beg a little more.”

“Please, Law! Please! I need you to make me cum! Please, make me cum. Please please please…” and they don’t stop. It looks like his fantasies came to life after all.

He lets you have it because he needs it just as much as you do, the last few thrusts come a little more quick-paced and it’s hitting you in the exact spot you needed to let yourself unfold.

With a loud call to his name, you cum. You came so hard you saw stars. And he just kept fucking you through it.“‘Gonna fill you up.” He grunts and groans in an effort to reach his own moment of bliss and it’s quicker to hit him than he can comprehend, he cums inside of you and shivers a little bit in doing so, finding comfort in the crook of your neck in an effort to cover up how vulnerable he felt in that moment. No women could ever compare. He was a mess for it.

As for his fill inside of you, he’d just use his devil-fruit power to remove it, but right now he absolutely relished in the way it so effortlessly leaked out of you. You were his, officially.

Collecting his own self, he pushes himself off of you, “You’re not going cold on me, are you?” He gets up off of the comfortable position once again, peering down at your fucked-out state.

“Would you give me a second? I thought you fucked me into another dimension for like half a minute.” You huff. He gives you your time while you catch your breath, he’s rubbing circles on each side of your hips to help alleviate the strain—well that’s the doctor for you. He’ll fuck you into the mattress and then help your muscles de-stress. You couldn’t deny the gentleness and how kind the gesture was and you soften up a bit.

“Get on your hands and knees when you’re ready.” You’re up hilariously quick. And he’s already half hard from waiting for you. Your figure from the back was something he’d think back on for many nights, but getting to see your face was beyond compare.

You whimper, “I’m ready, c’mon!” You comedically and desperately wiggle your ass in front of him, he wants to laugh but it was really fucking sexy, the way you yearned for him, and he holds your hip with one hand, lining himself up once again. The hard part wasn’t so difficult this time around, and he pushes himself inside of you a little too eagerly, almost giving away his own very need. He starts to thrust into you again, and being inside of you was like heaven on earth. Though it wasn’t even 2 minutes that he was fucking you before, he was sensitive this time around, and he had to go slower to start.

“Fuck, that feels so good.” You hum a moan in a little more than approval. He’s sliding into you, watching how his cock disappears into you.

The best thing about this position is how you wouldn’t be able to see his face, how pussy-whipped he looked. If he went any faster he could cum, so he needed to start slow.

You were far past the sensual and slowness. You needed it fast and hard. “Law, go faster!”

“Don’t call me by my name. What do you call me in this room? On this ship?” Very bold in his proclamation. But he can feel your hesitance.

He smacks your ass, and you jump a bit, clenching around him very tightly. “I said, what do you call me?”

“C-Captain, please… please go faster.”

But he stops. And he swears he might be torturing his own self more, if it meant for how much you begged and whined for it, though, he wasn’t disappointed.

“If you want to go faster so bad, fuck me yourself.”

You almost want to cry from how brutal he sounded, but the vulgarity of his words makes you clench around him again. And so, you start to thrust back into him, fucking him while he watched you.

With the first few thrusts you’re already clutching the sheets below you, and it’s taking more power than you thought it would. You can’t bring yourself to stop, though. The way it felt, it was too good.

“How does it feel?”

“S-So good, Cap.” Your eyes rolled into your skull.

“You gonna make your captain cum?”

“Mhhmm~”

With a breathy voice he says, “Guess this is my reward for taking such good care of you, huh? All paid off. I don’t usually get this special treatment from my usual patients.”

“I’m n-not a usual… patient.” You hardly breathe out.

He grips both sides of your hips to make you stop in your movement and he shuffles a bit, not long after is he asking you, “Are you gonna be good from now on?”. You say yes, a thousand times over. He moves like he did before, only just picking up his thrusts quicker and quicker. The sound of his skin meeting yours makes its return only louder. “Yeah, guess you’re right. Couldn’t possibly be. You’re too special. Made just for me.”

“Yes *thrust* Captain! *thrust*”

His leg is raised to the side to get a better angle into your cunt and he feels a second orgasm quickly approaching. He’s so sweaty, drenched. His hair clings onto his forehead and his hands can barely take grip on your skin anymore. Fuck, he moans. He’s getting dizzy now. This is the best he’s felt in a while.

You, on the other hand, have your face pressed in the sheets with your orgasm on quick approach. You’re sensitive, too sensitive. And you cum with a loud whine, all your liquids spraying onto him like it was comical. He came not so far after you, with his head falling back and a breathy moan.

You both try to catch your breaths before he felt on top of you. He kissed your shoulder as his own little thank you and rolled over on the very much drenched mattress. You lay on top of him while your whole body shook and he quickly wraps his arm around your figure.

You both sit in a comfortable silence go try catching your breaths and try to pace yourselves so you could relax. And surprisingly, Law is the first to speak.

“Never pinned you for the jealous type.”

“Oh would you quit it already? You’re so good at ruining soft moments!” You push him lightly, you roll over on the other side of the mattress and he immediately grabs you back. He was so annoying.

If he asked you to stay with him, would you have done it? No, that was wishful thinking. He’s seen with his own very eyes how much Straw Hat loved you. This is the thing he dread the most about this, he shouldn’t have done it. He brought you into his own sick and dark fantasy of keeping you here just for him and now he regrets it completely. It was wishful thinking on his end, all of it.

“‘This a one time thing?” He asks to try and ground himself.

But you’re quick, “No, better not be!” You get up and sit on the bed, and he doesn’t understand how you’re up. He should be the one to get up. “Unless you declare me your enemy once I leave.” Your fingers are dancing on his chest, tracing the tattoos on his body, “But I’m fine with being with you like this. It can be our little secret anytime we see each other. Especially that captain thing, you freak.”

He laughs, and your words do bring him that relief. He pulls you by your arm for a tender kiss, something you were a bit surprised by.

He was fine with it, he’d take what he can get for now, as long it meant he could be with you.

[laiahernandeeezzz]

I DON'T THINK I COULD LOVE YOU MORE

******

Pairing: Billie Eilish x fem!reader

Words: 1.9K

****** [So after everything that happened, I really wanted to write something cute and happy for the Grammys, I've been obssessed with Billie these last days, so I hope you like it!!!]

The alarm went off earlier than usual on the morning of the Grammys. Y/n stirred beneath the covers, stretching an arm out to find her girlfriend—only to be met with an empty, cold spot. She frowned. If there was one thing she knew about Billie, it was how much she despised getting out of bed without spending a few minutes tangled together, exchanging sleepy kisses.

With a sigh, Y/n lazily pulled her hair into a messy bun and grabbed one of Billie’s oversized sweatshirts. If they were already huge on the singer, Y/n practically drowned in them, despite being taller than her girlfriend. But that’s exactly what made them so cozy.

She padded toward the kitchen, where she found Billie perched on a stool, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. Y/n approached her from behind, wrapping an arm around her waist and resting her chin on her girlfriend’s shoulder. It was only then that she noticed how tense Billie was.

“Good morning, my love,” Y/n murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. But instead of the usual warm response, Billie only managed a small, tight-lipped smile—more a grimace than anything.

Y/n’s brows furrowed. Something’s up.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” she asked, concern evident in her voice.

Billie let out a heavy sigh, finally turning in Y/n’s embrace to face her. “Sorry, baby. It’s just… I’m a bit stressed about tonight.” She hesitated, then ran a hand through her hair. “Claudia called me before the alarm went off. Turns out Finneas woke up feeling sick… and he lost his voice. Like, he literally can’t sing, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry,” Y/n said sincerely. “But I know you’ll figure something out. Have you talked to your team?” As she spoke, she absentmindedly ran her fingers through Billie’s hair, knowing it always helped calm her—even just a little.

“I called my mom, and she said I have two options: find someone to do the harmonies while Finneas plays guitar, or sing without them and just have him play.”

Y/n nodded, considering it. “What do you want to do?” she asked, pulling away briefly to make herself a cup of coffee. She missed the way Billie immediately pouted at the loss of her touch. Once her drink was ready, Y/n returned to her girlfriend’s side, taking Billie’s hand in hers and tracing slow, soothing circles on her knuckles.

“Finneas says he’ll still be okay to play, so that’s not the issue,” Billie admitted. “But I would really like someone to sing with me. It gives the song more depth, y’know? Makes it feel… fuller.”

Y/n took a thoughtful sip of her coffee. “That makes sense. Is there anyone you can call? I mean, you still have one more rehearsal—you could try it out with someone and see how it feels.”

Billie fell silent, deep in thought. A few moments later, a small smile tugged at her lips as she turned to face Y/n again.

“Baby,” she started sweetly. “You know I love you, right?”

Y/n narrowed her eyes, immediately suspicious. “Of course I know… Why?”

Billie hesitated, her blue eyes wide and pleading. “Well… You obviously know the lyrics to the song…”

Y/n’s stomach dropped. “…Yeah?”

“You’ve been to every rehearsal, so you know exactly where Finneas comes in…”

“Billie…”

“And even if you don’t believe it, you do have an amazing voice…”

Y/n’s eyes widened. “I do not like where this is going.”

Billie pressed her lips together before finally blurting it out. “Sooo… Maybe… Remember that I love you so, so much… but maybe you could—I don’t know—sing with me tonight?” She whispered the last part, voice pitching higher as she looked at Y/n with the most hopeful expression imaginable.

Y/n stared at her. “Babe. That is crazy.” She set her coffee down, heart rate already spiking. “I have never sung in front of anyone—barely anyone. And you want me to do it at the Grammys? In front of actual singers? I cannot do that. I’m not prepared. We’ve never even sung your song together—it might not even work!”

Panic was creeping into her voice now, but she also refused to meet Billie’s gaze. She knew that if she looked into those big, ocean-blue eyes, she’d be done for.

Billie took both of Y/n’s hands in hers. “Love, I trust you. I know you can do it. And, like you said, we still have one more rehearsal. Just try it—for me? Please?”

Y/n groaned, running a hand down her face. She was losing this battle fast.

“I don’t know… Are you completely sure you wouldn’t be better off on your own?” she tried one last time.

Billie shook her head, voice unwavering. “I’ll never be better than when I’m with you.”

Y/n exhaled sharply, already knowing she’d caved. Billie could ask her for the moon, and she’d find a way to bring it to her.

“I hate that I love you so much,” she grumbled. “You better make it up to me later.”

Billie smirked, immediately tugging Y/n closer by the hem of the sweatshirt, pulling her between her legs. One hand found its way to Y/n’s waist, the other tilting her chin up until their lips were just inches apart.

“Oh, you bet I will,” Billie murmured before capturing Y/n’s lips in a slow, deep kiss—soft, yet full of passion.

—

Much to Y/n’s dismay, the rehearsal went way too smoothly. Her voice blended perfectly with Billie’s, something she had no choice but to admit. And despite the nerves that had plagued her all morning, she found herself feeling… a little more confident, comforted by the presence of the siblings—Finneas strumming the guitar beside her, Billie performing so effortlessly that it almost felt natural to join in. Her girlfriend hadn’t stopped showering her with compliments, making sure she knew just how amazing she was.

Now, as they got ready for the night, their hotel room was packed with stylists, makeup artists, and assistants bustling around to make sure they looked their best. Clothes were everywhere—red carpet looks, performance outfits, even afterparty choices. It was overwhelming, but Y/n took it all in stride. She’d do anything for Billie, and she’d do it a hundred times over.

“Baby?”

Y/n snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of Billie’s voice. She hummed in acknowledgment, letting her know she was listening.

“I was thinking… Since you’ll be on stage with me tonight, maybe you could also join me on the red carpet?” Billie hesitated before continuing, her voice softer. “I know we weren’t planning to confirm our relationship, but I kinda want to… I want to hold your hand and kiss you without worrying about the cameras.”

Y/n smiled, warmth blooming in her chest. “I think today’s perfect,” she agreed. “Besides, bringing me as your plus one would’ve already been suspicious. Not that we’re very discreet anyway. People really don’t believe our ‘we’re just friends’ speech anymore.”

They both laughed, knowing she was right. They had never officially confirmed anything, but they had never exactly hidden it either. They were private—but that didn’t mean they had to pretend.

—

Y/n had no idea how Billie remained so composed throughout the entire evening. Just walking the red carpet had her stressing, but she thought she’d done pretty well—posing for pictures, both together and separately, sneaking fond glances at Billie when the singer wasn’t looking.

She had met so many artists she admired, with Billie proudly introducing her to people like Sabrina Carpenter and Chappell Roan, all while Y/n tried very hard not to freak out. But no matter how nerve-wracking it was, the steady presence of Billie’s hand on her back kept her grounded. The singer made sure she was okay at all times—whether by asking directly, squeezing her hand, or simply locking eyes from across the room.

But now, as they stood backstage, changed into their performance outfits, Y/n’s nerves returned—stronger than ever.

She tried to hide it, not wanting to add to Billie’s stress, but of course her girlfriend saw right through her.

A few minutes before stepping on stage, Billie pulled her into a hug, making her look at her.

“You’re going to do great, baby. I know it. Just like in rehearsals.”

“Yeah… except this time, real singers will be watching.”

Billie smirked. “And? I’ll be there. Finneas will be there. If it gets too overwhelming, just look at me, alright?”

Y/n exhaled shakily but nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

They shared a soft kiss before someone from production signaled that it was time.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n stepped behind the microphone. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her chest, but then—Finneas placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. They exchanged a small smile, just as the lights dimmed.

Only for Billie to start… talking?

“Hi, guys!” Her voice echoed through the venue, casual and warm. “Normally, we don’t introduce our songs because we’re short on time, but luckily, they gave me a pass tonight.” She chuckled, the crowd responding with cheers. “This morning, we woke up to some sad news—my brother lost his voice. And, as you know, his harmonies are super important to this song. So, we had to find a solution.”

She turned slightly, glancing at Y/n with a teasing sparkle in her eyes.

“Finneas is still going to play, obviously, but tonight, someone very special to me will be singing his part.” She paused before adding, “She’s a little nervous, so if you know the song—please, help us sing. Here’s ‘Birds of a Feather’ with Finneas and Y/n!”

And just like that—it began.

At first, Y/n could barely hear herself over the sound of her own heartbeat, but as the song progressed, she found herself feeling it. The music, the moment, the presence of Billie right next to her. Every now and then, Billie would glance over, locking eyes and smiling, silently reminding her that she was right where she needed to be.

Before she knew it, it was over.

As the final note rang through the venue and the applause roared around them, Y/n barely had time to process it before Billie wrapped her in a tight hug.

“I knew you could do it! You were amazing, baby!” Billie gushed, cupping Y/n’s face and pressing quick kisses all over it.

“Says you!” Y/n laughed breathlessly. “You were born for this, my love. Thank you for trusting me.”

“I always will,” Billie murmured. “I love you so much, Y/n.”

“I love you too.”

They kissed like there was no one else around them—before finally heading back to their seats. But not before Y/n insisted on changing back into her dress, claiming she didn’t want to spend the rest of the night in a t-shirt.

Of course, Billie mocked her for it. “Nothing’s better than a t-shirt, babe.”

They continued watching the show, Billie leaning over at one point as the stage was being set for Sabrina Carpenter’s performance.

With a mischievous smirk, she whispered into Y/n’s ear, “You do know the next step is for you to sing with me on tour, right? And not just the harmonies.”

Y/n turned to her, eyes wide. “You’re kidding.”

Billie just grinned, bursting into laughter at her reaction. And, despite herself, Y/n couldn’t help but laugh too.

She shook her head, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Billie’s lips. “I was going to refuse, but… you do know all you have to do is ask.”

[elryuse]

Fond Of You

Danielle X Male Reader

Tags : Female Boss, Co-worker Sex, Romance, Kisses, Dirty Words, Risky, Public Sex, Teasing

Words : 3,920 Words

“What are you doing?” Danielle’s voice cut through the dimly lit hotel room, her tone sharp but laced with something else—something softer, like she already knew the answer.

I froze, halfway to the couch, a pillow clutched in my hands. “I-uh... I was just going to sleep here. On the couch. You know, so you could have the bed.”

She crossed her arms, her piercing gaze locking onto mine. The rain outside hammered against the windows, a relentless rhythm that matched the pounding in my chest. “Don’t be ridiculous. That couch is a death sentence for your back. You’re sharing the bed.”

“Danielle, I can’t—”

“You will,” she interrupted, her voice firm but not unkind. “It’s just one night. We’re adults. We can handle it.”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. Handle it? That was the problem. I wasn’t sure I could. Not with her.

It had been a hell of a day. The kind of day where everything that could go wrong, did. The project deadline had been moved up, and Danielle had been in full boss mode—demanding, exacting, and utterly captivating. She always was. Her presence commanded the room, her sharp wit and even sharper eyes cutting through any flimsy excuses. I admired her. Hell, I’d had a crush on her for as long as I could remember. But it was more than that. It was the way she pushed me, believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. She made me want to be better.

But tonight, after hours of overtime and a torrential downpour that flooded the streets, we found ourselves stranded. The office was empty, and neither of us could get a cab or an Uber. The hotel down the street was our only option.

And now, standing in this room, the tension between us was thicker than the humid summer air outside.

Danielle sighed, running a hand through her dark, wavy hair. “Look, I’m not going to bite. Just... get in the bed.”

I hesitated, my mind racing. This was my boss. My boss. The woman who’d read me the riot act more times than I could count. The woman who made my heart skip a beat every time she walked into a room. The woman who, right now, was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite place.

“Okay,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. I set the pillow back on the bed and climbed in, trying to keep as much distance between us as possible. The mattress dipped slightly as Danielle joined me, her warmth radiating across the small space.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the rain outside and the faint hum of the air conditioner. My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure she could hear it.

“You’re really tense,” she said after a while, her voice softer now. “Relax.”

“I’m trying,” I muttered, staring up at the ceiling.

She turned onto her side, facing me. I could feel her gaze on me, even in the dark. “You know, you’re not as good at hiding it as you think you are.”

“Hiding what?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“How you feel about me.”

My breath caught in my throat. I turned my head to look at her, my eyes wide. “Danielle, I—”

Before I could finish, she leaned in and kissed me.

It was soft at first, tentative, like she was testing the waters. But when I didn’t pull away, when I kissed her back, her hand slid up to cradle my cheek, deepening the kiss. Her lips were warm, insistent, and everything I’d ever dreamed they’d be.

When we finally broke apart, I was breathless, my heart racing. “Danielle…”

“I’ve always wanted this,” she whispered, her eyes searching mine. “But I couldn’t… I couldn’t let myself.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m your boss. Because it’s complicated. Because…” She trailed off, her thumb brushing against my cheek. “Because I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of this. Of us.” She leaned in again, her lips brushing against mine as she spoke. “But I can’t fight it anymore. Not tonight.”

Her words sent a jolt of desire through me, and I pulled her closer, our bodies pressing together as our lips met again. This kiss was hungrier, more urgent, months—no, years—of pent-up longing finally breaking free.

Her hands slid down my chest, trailing over the fabric of my shirt before tugging it up. I helped her pull it off, her fingers immediately returning to explore my bare skin. Her touch was electric, sending shivers down my spine as she mapped every inch of me.

I reached for her blouse, my fingers fumbling with the buttons. She laughed softly, a sound that made my heart swell, and helped me undo them. When the fabric fell away, revealing her lace bra, I couldn’t help but stare. She was stunning.

“Like what you see?” she teased, her voice low and husky.

“You have no idea,” I murmured, leaning in to kiss her again. My hands moved to her back, unhooking her bra and letting it fall away. Her breasts were perfect, full and soft, and I couldn’t resist touching them, my thumbs brushing over her nipples until they hardened under my touch.

She moaned softly, her hips grinding against mine as I continued to explore her body. My hand slid down her stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of her skirt. She was already wet, her arousal evident as my fingers found her clit.

“God, you’re so wet,” I whispered against her lips.

“For you,” she breathed, her hips bucking against my hand. “Always for you.”

Her words ignited something primal in me, and I moved down her body, trailing kisses along her skin until I reached her panties. I hooked my fingers into the waistband and pulled them down, tossing them aside before spreading her legs. Her pussy was glistening, and I couldn’t resist the urge to taste her.

I pressed my tongue to her clit, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. Her hands tangled in my hair, holding me in place as I began to lick and suck, savoring the way she tightened around me with every stroke.

“Oh my god,” she moaned, her hips lifting off the bed as I pushed two fingers inside her. She was tight, her walls clenching around me as I curled my fingers, searching for the spot that would make her scream.

When I found it, she arched off the bed, a loud cry escaping her lips. “Yes! Right there, right there!”

I continued to work her with my fingers and tongue, her pleasure building until she came with a shuddering cry, her body trembling with the force of her orgasm.

But she wasn’t done. As soon as she caught her breath, she pushed me onto my back, straddling my hips. Her hand wrapped around my cock, stroking me as she positioned herself over me.

“I want you inside me,” she whispered, her eyes locking onto mine. “I’ve always wanted you.”

She sank down onto me, her tight heat enveloping me as she took me in inch by inch. I groaned, my hands gripping her hips as she began to move, riding me with a slow, deliberate rhythm that drove me wild.

Her breasts bounced with every movement, and I reached up to cup them, squeezing and teasing her nipples until she moaned. Her pace quickened, her hips rolling against mine as she chased her pleasure.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” I groaned, my hands moving to her ass, giving it a sharp smack.

She yelped in surprise, but the look in her eyes was pure desire. “Do it again,” she demanded, her voice breathless.

I obliged, spanking her again and again as she rode me, each slap driving her closer to the edge. When she finally came, her body shuddering with the force of her orgasm, I couldn’t hold back any longer.

With a groan, I thrust up into her, my release crashing over me as I filled her. She collapsed onto my chest, both of us panting as we came down from our high.

For a long moment, we just lay there, tangled together, the sound of our breathing the only noise in the room. Finally, Danielle lifted her head, a soft smile on her lips.

"I’ve always wanted this," she whispered, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my chest. "But now that I have it, I don’t ever want to let it go."

I smiled back, my heart full. "You don’t have to."

She leaned in for another kiss, slow and sweet this time. But as the kiss deepened, I could feel the heat building between us again. Her hand slid down my chest, her fingers wrapping around my cock, already hardening under her touch.

"Looks like someone’s ready for round two," she teased, her voice low and sultry.

I groaned, my hips bucking into her hand. "You’re insatiable."

She smirked, shifting her body so she was straddling me once more. "You have no idea."

And as she sank back down onto me, I knew this night was far from over.

She leaned forward, her lips brushing against my ear as her breath sent shivers down my spine. “You’ve been such a good boy for me,” she purred, her voice dripping with temptation. Her hips rocked gently, her wet pussy teasing the tip of my cock, barely letting me in before pulling back. The sensation was maddening, every inch of me begging for more.

“Danielle,” I groaned, my hands gripping her thighs, trying to guide her down onto me. But she resisted, her smirk widening as she looked down at me with those fiery eyes.

“Patience,” she whispered, her voice teasing. “I want to savor this. I want to savor you.”

Her words sent a jolt of electricity through me, my cock twitching beneath her. She shifted her hips again, this time letting me feel the warmth of her entrance, the slickness of her arousal coating me. But just as I thought she’d finally let me in, she pulled back, her laughter soft and teasing.

“Danielle, please,” I begged, my voice strained.

She tilted her head, her fingers trailing down my chest. “Please what?” she asked, her tone innocent, but her eyes were anything but.

“I need to be inside you,” I said, the words coming out in a rush.

Her smile was wicked as she leaned in closer, her lips just inches from mine. “Say it again,” she whispered.

“I need to be inside you,” I repeated, my voice trembling with need.

“Good boy,” she murmured, finally lowering herself onto me, my cock sliding into her wet, tight pussy inch by agonizing inch. I gasped, my hands tightening on her thighs as she took me in completely, her moan mingling with mine.

She moved slowly at first, her hips rocking in a deliberate rhythm, each movement sending waves of pleasure through me. Her nails dug into my chest as she leaned back, her head tipping back as she let out a soft moan. “So good,” she breathed, her voice filled with satisfaction.

I couldn’t take it anymore. My hips bucked up into her, setting a faster pace as I thrust into her, the sound of our bodies meeting filling the room. She cried out, her fingers tangling in the sheets as she rode me with abandon, her pussy squeezing me tightly.

“Fuck, Danielle,” I groaned, my hands moving to her hips, guiding her movements as we found a rhythm that drove us both wild. Her moans grew louder, her body trembling as she got closer to the edge.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, her voice desperate. “I’m so close.”

I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to make her come undone, to feel her clench around me as she fell apart. My thumb found her clit, rubbing it in tight circles as I thrust into her, the combination driving her over the edge.

Her scream echoed through the room as she came, her pussy tightening around me as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. I followed her soon after, my own climax hitting me hard as I spilled inside her, my body shaking with the intensity of it.

We stayed like that for a moment, both of us catching our breath as the aftershocks of our orgasms faded. Finally, she leaned down, her lips brushing against mine in a soft, lingering kiss.

“That was amazing,” she whispered, her voice filled with awe.

I smiled, my hands moving to cradle her face. “You’re amazing,” I said, my voice filled with adoration.

She chuckled, a playful glint in her eyes as she shifted off of me, lying down beside me. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she teased, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest.

I turned to look at her, my heart swelling with affection. “I’ve always wanted this,” I admitted, my voice soft.

“Me too,” she confessed, her eyes meeting mine. “I’ve wanted you for so long, but I didn’t know if you felt the same way.”

“I do,” I said, cupping her cheek. “I’ve always felt it.”

She smiled, her hand covering mine. “Then let’s not waste any more time,” she said, her voice filled with determination.

I grinned, pulling her closer as I kissed her deeply, our bodies melding together as we lost ourselves in each other once more. She moaned into the kiss, her hands roaming over my body, igniting the fire between us all over again.

Her lips trailed down my neck, her teeth nipping at my skin as she moved lower, her tongue flicking over my nipple, making me gasp. “Danielle,” I breathed, my cock already hardening again.

She looked up at me, her eyes dark with desire. “I’m not done with you yet,” she said, her voice a sultry promise.

She shifted between my legs, her lips wrapping around the tip of my cock, her tongue swirling around it as she tasted me. I groaned, my hands tangling in her hair as she took me deeper, her mouth a hot, wet heaven around me.

“Oh fuck,” I moaned, my hips bucking into her mouth as she sucked me with a rhythm that threatened to drive me out of my mind. Her hands gripped my thighs, her nails digging into my skin as she took me to the edge, her moans vibrating against my cock.

“Danielle, I’m gonna—” I started, but she pulled back, a mischievous smile on her lips.

“Not yet,” she said, climbing back up to kiss me, my cock trapped between our bodies as she ground against me.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” I groaned, my hands gripping her hips as she moved against me.

She laughed, her fingers tracing my lips. “But what a way to go,” she teased, her hips rocking in just the right way to make me see stars.

I flipped her over, my body covering hers as I kissed her deeply, my cock sliding into her pussy again, both of us gasping at the sensation. She wrapped her legs around me, her nails scratching down my back as I thrust into her, our bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

“You feel so good,” she moaned, her voice filled with pleasure.

“So do you,” I said, my voice strained as I buried myself deeper inside her.

Her moans grew louder, her body trembling as she got closer to the edge once more. I felt her pussy clench around me, her orgasm hitting her hard as she cried out, her body arching against mine.

I followed her soon after, my own climax hitting me with such intensity that I thought I might pass out from the pleasure. We clung to each other, our breaths mingling as we came down from the high, our bodies still joined.

Finally, she looked up at me, her eyes filled with a tenderness that made my heart ache. “This is just the beginning,” she whispered, her voice filled with promise.

But before I could respond, her lips found mine again, her kiss filled with a passion that left me breathless. Her nails grazed down my back, sending shivers through me as she whispered against my lips, “I’m not done with you yet.”

The room was still filled with the heavy scent of sex, our bodies tangled together on the bed, slick with sweat and satisfaction. Danielle’s fingers traced idle patterns on my chest, her breath warm against my skin. Her nails dragged lightly, sending shivers down my spine every time they grazed over a sensitive spot. I could feel her heartbeat, steady but still slightly elevated, pressed against me. She tilted her head up, her fiery eyes meeting mine, and that smirk—the one that always made my stomach twist—played on her lips.

“You’re thinking too much,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. Her fingers trailed lower, dancing over my stomach, and I felt my body react instinctively. She chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through my chest. “Always so eager, aren’t you?”

I swallowed hard, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. “You’re hard not to be eager for.”

Her smirk widened, and she shifted, propping herself up on one elbow. Her hair fell over her shoulder, framing her face, and she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against my ear. “Good answer,” she whispered, her breath hot against my skin. “But I think I want more than just eager. I want you desperate.”

Her hand slid lower, wrapping around my cock, and I groaned, my hips bucking reflexively. She laughed again, a low, sultry sound that sent heat pooling in my gut. “Not yet,” she teased, her grip tightening just enough to make me ache. “I have other plans for you.”

Before I could ask what she meant, she pulled away, sliding off the bed with a grace that left me breathless. She turned to face me, her eyes gleaming with mischief, and my gaze raked over her body—the curve of her hips, the way her breasts moved with every breath, the faint marks I’d left on her skin earlier. She was perfection, and the way she looked at me made it clear she knew it.

“Come here,” she said, her voice soft but commanding. She didn’t wait for me to move, though; she reached out, her fingers curling around my wrist, pulling me to my feet. My body followed hers eagerly, my cock throbbing as she led me toward the balcony doors. The curtains were still drawn, the rain outside barely a whisper now, but the air was cool and damp.

She turned to me, her back pressed against the glass, and her hands slid up my chest, her nails scratching lightly. “You’ve always been so good for me,” she murmured, her voice dripping with temptation. “Always so obedient, so willing to follow my lead. I like that about you.”

I swallowed hard, my hands finding her hips, pulling her closer. “I’d do anything for you,” I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Her eyes darkened, and she tilted her head, her lips brushing against mine. “Prove it,” she whispered. “Let me ride your cock on the balcony.”

My breath hitched, and my grip on her hips tightened. “Danielle—” I started, but she cut me off with a kiss, her lips fierce and demanding. Her tongue slid against mine, and I groaned, my hands moving to cup her ass, lifting her slightly. She broke the kiss, her chest heaving as she stared at me, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and challenge.

“Do it,” she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument. “Fuck me where anyone could see us. Show me how much you want me.”

The idea sent a jolt of electricity through me, and I hesitated for only a moment before I lifted her fully, her legs wrapping around my waist. She gasped, her hands gripping my shoulders as I carried her to the balcony, the cool night air hitting our skin as I pushed the door open. The rain had stopped, but the air was still damp, the city lights glittering below us.

I set her down on the railing, her hands gripping the edge as she leaned back, her body open and inviting. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with a hunger that matched my own, and she spread her legs wider, her pussy glistening in the dim light. “Take me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I stepped forward, my cock sliding between her folds, and she moaned, her head falling back. I gripped her hips, positioning myself, and slowly pushed inside her, her warmth enveloping me in the most intoxicating way. She gasped, her nails digging into my arms as I filled her completely, and I paused, savoring the way her body clenched around me.

“God, you feel so good,” she moaned, her voice breathless. “Fuck me, baby. Make me yours.”

I didn’t need any more encouragement. I started to move, my hips thrusting into her with a rhythm that made her cry out, her body arching against mine. Her breasts bounced with every movement, and I leaned down, capturing one nipple in my mouth, sucking hard. She moaned louder, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.

The sound of her pleasure, the way her body moved with mine, the way she clung to me like she never wanted to let go—it was all too much, and I felt my orgasm building, the pressure in my gut coiling tighter and tighter. But I wasn’t ready to let go yet. I wanted to make her come first, to hear her scream my name as she fell apart.

I shifted slightly, angling my hips to hit that spot inside her that made her see stars, and her breath hitched, her body tensing. “Yes,” she gasped, her nails digging into my back. “Right there.”

I kept the pace steady, my thrusts deep and deliberate, and I felt her pussy tighten around me, her walls fluttering as she got closer to the edge. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, and she pulled my hair hard, forcing me to look up at her. Her eyes were filled with pure, unbridled desire, and she licked her lips, her voice trembling as she begged, “Make me come, baby. I need to come.”

That was all it took. I reached between us, my thumb finding her clit, and I pressed down hard, circling it quickly. She screamed, her body arching off the railing as her orgasm hit her, her pussy clenching around my cock so tightly it almost hurt. I groaned, my own climax crashing over me, and I buried myself deep inside her, spilling myself into her with a force that left me trembling.

We stayed like that for a moment, our bodies pressed together, our breaths mingling as we came down from the high. Finally, I pulled back, carefully lifting her off the railing and carrying her inside. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her face buried in my shoulder, and I could feel her smile against my skin.

“You’re amazing,” she whispered, her voice soft and filled with affection. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

I chuckled, my hands tightening around her as I carried her back to the bed. “Neither am I.”

[greengoblinswifey]

Nanny Knows Best II

pairing— Nicholas Chavez x bimbo!nanny!reader

summary— Your ‘relationship’ with your boss has progressed, leading to jealousy from his wife and him inviting you to an award ceremony. After the ceremony, you celebrate in the best way possible with the dam finally breaking after close calls and stolen moments,

warnings— age gap(reader is 19, nicholas is aged up to be 40), infidelity, virgin!reader, lots of flirting, ass grabbing and groping, fluff, slight angst, jealousy, praise kink, fingering, finger sucking, cunnilingus, oral(m), loss of virginity, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare, L bomb.

a/n— Last part(?) but requests for bimbo!nanny!reader x nicholas are open <3 Please note, this is just fanfiction and I don’t condone cheating of any kind irl. w.c— 7.4k

Part I

Nicholas had kept his word—he didn’t act weird like he did after the kiss. He was as composed as ever, stealing long kisses when no one was looking, his hands sometimes wandering to your ass and boobs, groping you like he couldn’t get enough, leaving breathless before pulling away like nothing happened. But he hadn’t gone further than that, and you knew why.

Victoria had been pissed lately. At first, it was the time he spent with you, but even when he tried to fuck her—unfortunately or even spend time with her, she accused him of thinking about you. She wasn’t wrong, though.

You weren’t mad that you hadn’t gone all the way yet. If anything, you enjoyed dragging things out, watching Nicholas struggle to keep his composure. You teased him relentlessly, brushing up against him when you passed, wearing skirts that made his gaze linger too long on your ass, pressing a finger to his lips when he looked like he might lose control.

You had him wrapped around your finger, and you both knew it.

One afternoon, you were in the kitchen making a bottle for Madison and grabbing juice for Alexander. You hummed to yourself, swaying slightly as you reached for the top shelf. You didn’t hear Nicholas step in until his hands were on your waist, pulling you back against him.

“You like torturing me, don’t you, sweetheart?” he murmured against your ear, his lips grazing your skin.

You let out a breathy laugh, arching to feel how hard he was behind you. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said sweetly, though the way you pushed against him said otherwise.

Nicholas exhaled sharply, his grip tightening, his lips dragging down your neck. “You drive me insane,” he muttered.

Before you could answer, small footsteps echoed down the hall. You barely had time to push him away before Alexander ran into the kitchen, his little hands reaching for his juice. Nicholas took a step back, adjusting his shirt as if nothing had happened, while you handed Alexander his drink with an innocent smile.

Close call. Again. Kids always talked and you didn’t need to scar him or have him blabber to his mother about what he saw.

Later that evening, when Victoria was out for one of her shoots—or whatever she did when she wasn’t home, you and Nicholas found yourselves alone in the living room. The kids were distracted in their playroom, giving you a rare moment of privacy. You stretched lazily on the couch, your skirt slipping up just enough to show the soft curve of your thigh and peeking to show your thong barely covering your pussy. Nicholas sat across from you, gripping the armrest so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Something wrong?” you asked, your voice filled with false innocence.

Nicholas exhaled, shaking his head. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Do I?” you giggled.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking like he was one second away from crossing the room and ruining you. But before he could even try, Madison’s cries echoed from upstairs.

You smirked, slipping off the couch and brushing past him on your way to the playroom. As you passed, you leaned in just enough to whisper, “Better luck next time, Mr. Chavez.”

You didn’t have to turn around to know he was watching you walk away, frustration rolling off him.

God, you loved this game.

The house was quieter than usual today, with Nicholas and the kids out. You had a moment to relax when you heard the sound of Victoria’s heels clicking against the floor. You didn’t even need to turn around to know she was heading your way. When she spoke, her voice was laced with irritation.

“You think you can keep up this little act?” she said, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she leaned against the doorframe. Her eyes narrowed in your direction. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know.”

You took a breath, turning around slowly with a small, innocent smile. “What do you mean?” you asked, genuinely curious but with a subtle hint of challenge in your tone.

Her gaze flickered over you, clearly looking for any sign of weakness. “Don’t think I don’t see what’s going on between you and Nicholas. The way you act, the way you look at him, its obvious you want my husband.”

You laughed lightly, a little too sweetly for her liking. “Look, Victoria, I’m just here to do my job. If you’ve got a problem with it, I suggest we talk to Nicholas about it. I’m sure he doesn’t mind the extra help.”

She scoffed, clearly not buying it. “You think he doesn’t notice? I know you’ve got some kind of charm working on him. But don’t think you can fool me. I see right through you.”

You crossed your arms, stepping closer. “Oh, I don’t need to fool anyone. And I’m not dumb, just because I like to have—fun.” You let the words hang in the air for a moment before adding, “I graduated university early with a degree that you don’t have, not that it’s any of your business. And with honors, might I add.”

Victoria’s lips pressed together as she looked at you, clearly stunned. For a moment, she was silent, her eyes searching yours, but you were already a step ahead.

“You may think you know everything, but I’ve got a lot more going on than you realize,” you said with a sly grin. “I’m not just the dumb, pretty face you think you can dismiss.”

Before she could say anything else, you turned away, walking past her and leaving the tension hanging in the air. You weren’t about to waste any more of your time on her. What you would use your time to do though, was fuck her husband and get a one up over her. She’d see who really ran things.

As you moved to the kitchen, you thought about how she was probably stewing over the conversation but there wasn’t anything she could do. Nicholas was your boss, she couldn’t fire you. But then, just as you grabbed a glass of water, you heard the door open, and Nicholas stepped in, looking a little worn out from the time with the kids.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted you with a smile that made your heart skip a beat. You returned the smile, and for a moment, the air felt electric between you two.

He stepped closer, placing a hand gently on your ass as he passed you. You caught a hint of his aftershave, the familiar scent that always seemed to draw you in. Your pulse quickened as he leaned in, his lips brushing the side of your ear. “You look gorgeous today,” he murmured, his voice low, sending a shiver down your spine.

You bit your lip, trying to keep your composure, but the closeness was intoxicating. You could feel the heat between you two intensifying. “You're just saying that to distract me,” you teased softly.

Nicholas chuckled, and for a brief moment, his hands lingered at your ass, his hands caressing the plump flesh. The touch was fleeting, but it sent a jolt of warmth straight to your core. “Maybe I am,” he said his eyes locking onto yours. “But does it work?”

Just as you were about to speak, you heard the sound of footsteps, and in that instant, you both quickly pulled apart, trying to act casual as the kids walked into the room. But the energy between you and Nicholas hadn't dissipated, it lingered in the air and all you wanted to do was pounce on him.

Later, with the kids busy playing, you found yourself alone with him again. You could feel him near, you could feel the heat radiating off him, and it was hard not to let your guard slip. You leaned in, your lips grazing his ear, your breath hot against his skin. “We’ll have to be more careful next time,” you whispered, knowing the game was far from over.

Nicholas seemed to hesitate for a second, his breath hitching slightly as he met your gaze. “I can't promise I'll be able to stay away,” he murmured. “I need you so fucking bad, sweetheart.”

Just as you both leaned in, about to lose yourselves in another heated kiss, the sound of a door opening caused you to pull away quickly, your heart racing as Victoria’s voice echoed down the hallway.

“The kids are looking for their snacks,” she said, her tone laced with something that you couldn’t quite place—annoyance? Maybe. She glanced over at you and Nicholas, her eyes narrowing.

You smiled sweetly, trying to act innocent. “I’ll be right there,” you said, offering her a wave as you stood up. You glanced back at Nicholas one more time before heading towards the kitchen, your mind already thinking about the next close call. But that next close call thought was shattered.

Something was off, and Nicholas could feel it. It wasn’t anything obvious—just small shifts in your usual demeanor. No lingering glances, no soft smiles, no lighthearted giggles whenever he teased you. You were polite but distant, your usual bubbly energy dulled to something restrained.

And it had everything to do with this morning.

Victoria had always been affectionate with him in front of you—little touches here and there, arms wrapped around his waist, fingers tracing over his jaw, but today had been different. This time, she had kissed him, pressing her lips to his with a kind of ease that came with being his wife. She had pushed herself against him, fingers lacing in his hair, and she had looked right at you as she did it.

Like she was reminding you exactly where you stood.

It shouldn’t have bothered you. Nicholas wasn’t yours. No matter how much he said he wanted you, no matter how many times he found an excuse to keep you close, he still went into bed with her at the end of the day.

But it stung.

And now, hours later, you were still in your own head about it, stirring the sauce on the stove without really paying attention. You didn’t even hear Nicholas come in until you felt his presence behind you, his hand going over your hip before stopping himself.

“Are you mad at me, sweetheart?” His voice was low.

You shook your head, keeping your eyes on the pot. “No.”

He sighed, stepping closer. “You’ve been acting weird all day. Did I do something?”

“No,” you repeated, softer this time.

He didn’t buy it. You felt him reach for you, his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. And then, before you could step away, he leaned in, lips parting, about to kiss you. But you turned your head at the last second, letting his lips land against your cheek instead.

He froze. You felt the way his breath hitched, the way his hand lingered against your jaw like he was trying to figure out what just happened. Slowly, he pulled back, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“Okay, what’s going on?” he asked, his voice more urgent now.

“It’s nothing, really. I should finish dinner before the kids get home,” you said as you exhaled sharply.

“No,” he said immediately, stepping in front of you. “Talk to me, honey.”

You hesitated. It wasn’t like you to tell him how you felt, not when you assumed this wasn’t supposed to be anything serious. But the way he was looking at you now, searching your face like he genuinely cared, made it impossible to brush him off.

You sighed. “This morning. With her.”

His expression flickered, realization dawning. He pressed his lips together, nodding like he understood exactly what you meant. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “I should’ve—” He exhaled. “I didn’t think. I didn’t want to make you feel like, like you don’t matter to me.”

Your chest tightened. “I know I don’t have a right to be upset. She’s your wife.”

“But you mean something to me, too,” he said quickly, reaching for you again, his hands cupping your cheeks. “You mean so much to me.”

Your resolve cracked. The way he was looking at you, the warmth in his touch, the sincerity in his voice, it was too much.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll make it up to you.”

You melted against him, letting him wrap his arms around you, inhaling the familiar scent of him.

“How?” you mumbled against his chest, your voice small.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips. “This weekend.”

“What?”

“Victoria’s flying out with the kids for that wedding,” he reminded you. “You’re supposed to go, but she made it very clear she’d rather struggle alone than have you there.”

You let out a small, breathy laugh at that. “She really hates me.”

“She’s jealous,” he corrected, smirking. “Not that I blame her.”

Your cheeks warmed, but before you could respond, he continued.

“I have the Golden Globes Friday, but tomorrow, I’m taking you shopping,” he said, smoothing his hands down your hips. “Whatever you want. All weekend, you’re mine.”

“Really?” you asked, a slow, giddy smile spread across your face.

He nodded. “Really.”

You bit your lip, your usual bubbly energy returning as you swayed on your heels. “I do love shopping.”

“I know you do.”

And just like that, the jealousy and frustration from earlier faded into something warm and sweet. Because maybe, for just a little while, you could pretend that you were his. And maybe, for just a little while, he could pretend too.

The next morning, Nicholas kept his promise. You had expected something simple, maybe a quick stop at a store before he had to rush off to film. But no, he was serious about spoiling you. He had a car pick you up, a sleek black one with tinted windows, and when you slid inside, he was already waiting, his arm stretched across the back of the seat like he had all the time in the world for you.

“You ready?” he asked, smirking as his eyes dragged over your outfit. “You look pretty.”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach fluttered at the compliment. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere nice,” he said simply, nodding to the driver.

You tried not to overthink what somewhere nice meant. You tried not to wonder if he had done this before, taken Victoria shopping, picked out things for her, spoiled her the way he was about to spoil you.

But as soon as you arrived, stepping into the first high end designer store where the sales associates practically tripped over themselves to greet Nicholas, all those thoughts faded.

Because this? This was for you.

And he made that clear.

“What about this?” you asked, holding up a red dress, expecting the usual nod of approval.

But Nicholas shook his head. “Not you.”

You blinked. “Not me?”

He took the dress from your hands, replacing it with another—softer, sexier, something that hugged you in all the right places.

“This,” he murmured, running his thumb over the fabric. “This is you.”

Your breath caught.

And it continued like that—him choosing things for you, watching you try them on, leaning back in his seat as he took you in. It was intoxicating, the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel.

But it was dangerous too.

Because at the end of the day, he still wasn’t yours.

And as much as he wanted you to feel special, this wasn’t real.

Or at least, it wasn’t supposed to be.

Nicholas had certainly followed through on every word, after, he made sure to take you from one designer store to another, never once flinching at the price tags. Gucci, Chanel, Cartier—if you wanted it, it was yours. He helped you pick out the perfect dress for the ceremony, something elegant but undeniably you, pairing it with Louboutin heels that made your legs look even longer. You had even restocked your makeup with Charlotte Tilbury, layering yourself in luxury.

But the best part? He let you indulge in your favorites. Juicy Couture, where you picked out sets in every color. Victoria’s Secret, where you didn’t hold back, tossing lace and silk into your shopping bags without a second thought.

Nicholas didn’t complain once. He only watched, entertained and amused, as you treated yourself like the princess he claimed you were. It wasn’t until you were in the dressing room, slipping into a plush pink robe, that things took a turn.

You were adjusting the belt in front of the mirror when the lock clicked behind you.

Your breath caught.

Nicholas.

He had slipped inside, shutting the door behind him, his presence instantly making the small space feel even smaller. His gaze dragged over you like he had all the time in the world to admire you.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured.

“Mr. Chavez, you’re not supposed to be in here.”

His lips twitched. “You’re right.” He stepped closer, pressing a hand to the curve of your waist, his breath ghosting against your ear. “Because, being in here makes me wanna fuck you right here, right now.”

A shiver ran down your spine. You turned to face him, eyes wide. “Mr. Cha—”

“I know,” he cut in, his fingers tracing the belt of your robe, his voice soft but insistent. “I can’t. But I can do something else.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he dropped to his knees. Your stomach flipped. “Nicholas—”

“Shh,” he murmured, smoothing his hands over your thighs. His eyes lifted to yours, dark. “Let me make you feel good.”

Your breath hitched.

Outside, the store was filled with people—other shoppers, sales associates, people who had no idea what was happening behind the locked door.

You shouldn’t. But when Nicholas pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, looking up at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, your resolve crumbled.

And as his hands slowly spread your pussy open, as he whispered soft praises against you, you realized something dangerous.

For the first time all day, it wasn’t the diamonds or designer labels that made you feel spoiled.

It was him.

You pressed a hand to the wall, the other gripping the belt of your robe like an anchor, your knees threatening to give out as Nicholas ravished your pussy with his mouth.

He had always been good with words, but now? Now he spoke in a way that made your head spin—soft groans and whispered praises against your core, each one sinking into you.

“You taste so sweet,” he murmured. “So perfect, baby.”

You whimpered, biting down on your lip to stay quiet, but the pleasure was overwhelming. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as you trembled against him, your body betraying you, giving in to everything he was pulling from you.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, fingers tightening in his hair. “We—we can’t—”

His lips curved against you, amusement in his next words. “Then be quiet.”

But how could you? How could you when he was so relentless, when every stroke of his tongue made your breath hitch, made heat coil in your stomach until you were seconds away from breaking apart?

And then—a knock.

Your heart jumped into your throat. “Everything okay in there?” A voice—feminine and concerned. An employee.

Nicholas didn’t stop. If anything, he doubled down, dragging his hands up your legs, pulling you closer, deeper into his mouth like he wanted to see you panic, like he loved the idea of you barely holding it together.

You slapped a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle a whimper as you forced out a breathy, “Y-yeah! Everything’s totally fine!”

The pause outside the door felt endless.

Then, finally—“Alright, just let me know if you need anything.”

Footsteps faded, and you sighed in relief, only to gasp as Nicholas gave you one last, devastating pass of his tongue.

That was it. That was all it took.

Your whole body tensed, shaking as the pleasure crashed over you, silent but all consuming. Nicholas held you through it, his hands steady, his mouth working you through the aftershocks until you were barely standing.

Only then did he finally pull away, his breath heavy, his lips slick and shining as he looked up at you with that signature smirk. His chin was soaked. And the worst part? He knew exactly what he had done to you.

“You should see yourself right now,” he murmured, dragging his thumb over his lips. “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your legs still felt weak, your head foggy, but couldn’t speak.

Nicholas carried your bags, all of them like it was nothing, his arms stacked high with luxury shopping bags as you both stepped outside. The flash of cameras caught your attention, a few paparazzi managing to snap some photos before security ushered them back.

You didn’t think much of it. You were too dazed, still floating from earlier, your legs still wobbly in your heels.

Nicholas opened the black car door for you, helping you in before tossing the bags into the trunk. Once he slid in beside you, he didn’t stop looking at you.

That smug, self satisfied look. “Stop it,” you said, narrowing your eyes.

“Stop what?” he smirked.

“Staring at me like that,” you pouted, crossing your arms. “It’s weird.”

His grin widened. “But I made you cum, didn’t I?”

Your whole body burned. “Mr. Chavez!” You smacked his arm before burying your face in his chest, muffling your groan of embarrassment.

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around you. “You’re too cute.”

You huffed, refusing to look at him. But the way he was holding you, stroking circles against your hip, made it impossible to be truly mad.

By the time you reached the mansion, you had regained some of your composure. Nicholas let you breathe, retreating to his own space while you packed away your new things.

You still couldn’t believe it. A rich, married man. Your rich, married man. It was wrong. And yet, here you were.

You were admiring a new diamond bracelet in the mirror when he appeared in your doorway, leaning against the frame with that same smirk.

“Pretty,” he murmured. “But not as pretty as you.”

“You’re such a flirt,” you said as you turned, rolling your eyes but unable to hide your smile.

He stepped closer, his hands finding your waist. “Only for you, baby.”

Your breath hitched as he leaned in, tilting your chin up before pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was slow and deep, his tongue exploring your mouth.

You melted into it, hands sliding up his muscular chest, fingers curling into his shirt. He kissed you harder, guiding you back toward the bed, his hands slipping under your crop top, pushing it aside. You gasped as his lips trailed down your neck, his touch igniting a fire that burned hotter by the second.

Clothes came off, piece by piece, heat building until you were naked beneath him, your body arching against his. And then—he stopped.

You blinked up at him, dazed. “Nicholas?”

He sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. “Not like this,” he murmured.

You pouted. “But—”

He kissed you again, soft but firm. “I want your first time to be special,” he said, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Not rushed.”

Your heart was aching at how genuine he sounded. “But,” he smirked, “I can still make you feel good.”

Before you could respond, his hand slipped between your thighs, drawing out a gasp as he touched your pussy that was already dripping wet for him.

He took his time, watching every reaction, whispering sweet praises, coaxing you to the edge.

His finger thrusted inside your pussy, curling and finding your g spot as you moaned freely beneath him. Finally you didn’t have to worry about being caught.

He look at you, his eyes moving from your lips to your pussy gushing for him. “Those sweet moans. God, I can’t get enough of you.”

You pressed your forehead against his, grinding against his hand so his palm calm in contact with your clit.

“Good girl, now it’s time to cum for me,” he said, voice low and rough.

Your pussy clenched around him and you cried out, a release so intense it made you squirt all over his fingers. He held you close as you trembled, pressing kisses to your forehead.

By the time you came down, trembling and breathless, he was holding you close, stroking your back.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head.

You sighed, melting into him, eyes fluttering shut as you fell into slumber.

The next morning came quicker than expected. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a golden glow across the room. You stirred slightly, still tangled in the sheets with the events of the previous night in your mind. Nicholas had slept in your bed and it was a wonder how he managed to keep his dick in his pants.

The Golden Globes was that night, and he was up early, making sure everything was in place. You, however, took your time getting ready, ensuring every detail of how you looked was perfect.

Just as you were slipping into your dress, a soft knock sounded at the door.

“Are you ready?” Nicholas called.

You took one last glance in the mirror before stepping forward and opening the door. Nicholas stopped breathing.

His eyes roamed over you, taking in every inch, the dress hugging your figure perfectly, the way your makeup highlighted your best features, your hair perfectly curled, the effortless way you carried yourself.

“Sweetheart,” he exhaled. “You look—” He trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.

You gave him a twirl, the fabric of your dress catching the light just right. “You like it?”

“Like it?” He scoffed, stepping closer, his hand grazing your waist before he caught himself. “Sweetheart, I love it. You look absolutely breathtaking.”

His words made your body warm, but before you could reply, he held out his arm. “Shall we?”

With a small smile, you looped your arm through his, and together, you stepped out, ready for the night.

The moment you arrived at the Golden Globes, all eyes were on you. The flashes of cameras were overwhelming and reporters and photographers called out Nicholas’ name. But then, to your surprise, they started calling you too.

You instinctively held onto Nicholas’ arm, nerves creeping in. He felt it immediately, his hand covering yours, reassuringly.

“You’re doing great,” he murmured. “Just give them that beautiful smile.”

You did.

Together, you posed for pictures, his hand resting securely at your waist. But then, a few photographers started asking for solo shots. You hesitated, glancing at Nicholas.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged softly.

Taking a breath, you stepped forward. The photographers gushed over you, snapping pictures from every angle. Compliments came from all angles, how elegant you looked, how cute you and Nicholas were together. It was overwhelming, but Nicholas never took his eyes off you, standing just a step away.

Meanwhile, he was pulled into an interview, and of course, the questions about you came. “And who is this stunning young woman with you tonight?"

He laughed, his gaze flickering to you as you clutched his arm, still smiling.

“A very special woman,” he said vaguely. “She’s been my biggest supporter.”

Before they could press further, the ceremony began.

The night went on but nothing compared to the moment Nicholas’ name was announced as the winner for Best Actor in a Motion Picture – Drama.

The second it echoed through the hall, you both shot to your feet. His first instinct was to turn to you, his hands finding your waist, his face so close, his lips brushed yours before he remembered. His wife was watching.

He stopped himself just in time, but you didn’t care. You threw your arms around him instead, jumping up and down, screaming in excitement.

“You did it!” you squealed. “Mr. Chavez, you won!”

He hugged you tightly, holding onto you for a minute longer before he finally made his way to the stage. The applause was loud as he accepted his Golden Globe, his expression a mix of awe and gratitude.

“Wow,” he exhaled into the mic. “This—this means everything.”

He thanked his team, the cast, his family, his kids. And then—

“I want to thank a special woman,” he said, his voice steady. His eyes flickered to you.

You stilled.

“Yeah, you know who you are,” he continued, lips twitching into the smallest smile. “You were the one who pushed me to audition for this film. You told me the role was mine before I even believed it myself. Without you, I wouldn’t be standing here right now. You’re my biggest supporter.”

Your heart clenched.

Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you held them back, shaking your head in disbelief, hands clasped over your mouth.

The moment he stepped off stage, you were in his arms again, holding on tight.

As the ceremony wrapped up, you leaned into Nicholas, your hand slipping into his. “We should totally celebrate,” you whispered.

He smirked, holding up his award. “The best celebration?” he murmured, leaning closer, “would be with you in my arms.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

The car ride home was quiet and very intimate. Nicholas held his award in one hand, his other resting over yours. At one point, he lifted the Golden Globe, pressing a kiss to it before turning to you, brushing his lips against yours. You melted into the kiss, reaching to straddle him, fingers threading through his hair, but the car stopped. You had arrived home.

He exhaled a laugh, his hands slipping to your waist as you both pulled away, breathless. “Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured.

Hand in hand, you stepped into the mansion like you were his wife. He had been gushing over you all night, and now was no different. He stopped you in the grand hallway, taking a moment just to admire you. “You have no idea how perfect you are, how perfect you look,” he murmured.

Then, he smirked. “I have a surprise for you.”

Curious, you followed him up the stairs, only to freeze at the sight. The entire staircase was lined with rose petals and pink flowers, leading up to his bedroom.

“Nicholas,” you gasped.

He pushed the door open, revealing the room filled with candlelight. Roses were scattered everywhere, the soft scent filling the air.

You turned to him, stunned. “Is this for me?”

His expression softened. “Of course, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hands finding your waist. “You deserve it.”

Before you could say another word, he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you toward the bed.

“You’re unreal,” he whispered against your skin. “So beautiful. Flawless.”

His lips brushed your forehead, your cheek, your jaw and then finally, your lips.

And in that moment, you knew—he was in love.

Nicholas backed you toward the bed, his gaze dark. His hands were gentle as they trailed down your arms, fingertips going over your skin as if you were something precious.

“You have me at your mercy,” he murmured, voice low.

Your breath hitched as the backs of your knees met the edge of the mattress, and before you could fully process it, he was kneeling before you, his large hands smoothing over your thighs. His touch was savoring every inch of you, his lips pressing kisses along the path his fingers traced.

His hands found the hem of your dress, gathering it slowly, sliding it up your legs as his lips followed. A kiss at your knee, another at the inside of your thigh, each one sending a shiver through you. He held you firmly, his breath warm against your skin as he murmured, “You’re perfect. So beautiful, so sweet, my perfect girl.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, a desperate attempt to hold onto something as his lips and touch gave you overwhelming pleasure. He hummed in approval, his hands spreading your legs, squeezing gently, savoring the feeling of you beneath him. His kisses against your pussy turned hungrier, his voice a quiet worship between them.

“So goddamn wet for me, you taste so good.”

You arched under his devotion as his tongue explored you and he took his time, as if memorizing you, drawing out every moan with precision that came with being with an older man. Every brush of his lips, every press of his thumb against your clit built, heightening the pleasure until you were trembling, breathless, gasping his name.

He didn’t stop. He soothed you through it, whispering how good you were, how proud he was, how no one else could ever make him feel the way you did. His hands caressed you, his touch never leaving you, even as you came down from the high he had so effortlessly brought you to.

When he finally pulled back, his lips and chin were soaked with your juices. He tilted his head up, watching you with satisfaction, his lips ghosting over your inner thigh before pressing a lingering kiss to your clit. Then, rising slowly, he brushed his lips against your temple, then your cheek, before finally pressing a deep, slow kiss to your lips.

“Did that feel good, sweetheart?” he murmured against your mouth.

You could only nod, still lost in his touch.

He smiled, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. “Good. Because I’d do it again and again if it meant seeing you like this.”

Nicholas held your gaze, his fingers replacing his mouth in your pussy, working slow thrusts as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

“Have to get this tight pussy ready for me, sweetheart,” he murmured.

His free hand cupped your cheek, thumb stroking gently as his lips trailed over your chest. His finger curled inside your wetness as his thumb rubbed rough, but gentle circles on your throbbing clit, “You’re so good for me,” he praised, watching every reaction, every tremble. “My pretty girl.”

Your fingers dug into his arms, breath hitching as warmth built deep inside you. “Nicholas—” you whimpered, your body arching into his touch.

“That’s it, my love,” he coaxed, kissing you deeply, his hand never faltering. “Cum for me, I’ve got you.”

You could barely hold back, gripping his shoulders as your body responded to the deep strokes of his fingers, finally reaching an orgasm that had you gasping as you squirted all over his fingers. He knew exactly how to make you feel good.

“Taste yourself,” he murmured. You held on to his hand, sucking your juices off his fingers before you took them in deeper.

“So obedient,” he praising, rubbing his thumb on your lip. “What a fucking mouth.”

“And I know how to use it,” you said, finally speaking.

“Are you sure you want to, sweetheart? Tonight’s about you,” he retorted.

“Tonight’s about you too, we’re also celebrating, remember,” you pouted and that did it for him.

His gaze was fixed on you, as he shrugged his pants and the rest of his suit off. Your fingers brushed over him in all his glory, and his breath caught when you made contact. He was hard, long and full of girth, feeling weighty in your hand. The tip was pretty, pink and leaking, pre cum oozing and slowly dripping down his shaft. As you looked up at him through your lashes, you could tell by the look in his eyes how badly he wanted this, and that only made you want him more.

God, you were almost jealous. Victoria used to get that dick every night. But then your jealousy turned into pride—it was yours now. She was stupid to be neglecting him.

His hands wrapped in your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail. “Take your time, sweetheart.”

As you took him into your mouth, each motion drew out quiet sounds from him. You took him deeper and deeper, swirling your tongue as you did and using your hands to rub his bare thighs then to caress his balls.

“You look so beautiful,” he murmured. “Everything about you is perfect.”

His praises made your pussy throb and you started deep throating him, using as much tongue as you could to make it sloppy just the way you knew older men liked it.

“Sweetheart, if you keep taking me like that—fuck, I’m gonna cum, you’re so good at this.”

You moaned around his cock, then took it out of your mouth to spit on it. Sticking your tongue out, you looked up at him as you slapped his cock against it and he moaned in response, his head tipping back.

He gently placed a hand on your cheek, caressing as your movements caused salvia and his pre cum to drip down your chin. You were a sight for sore eyes and he was ready to see you swallow his cum.

“H-holy fucking shit baby, I’m gonna cum down that throat,” he moaned, his voice breaking.

You took him as deep as you could, then gliding your mouth and your tongue across his shaft as you felt his warm cum shoot down your throat. You swallowed every drop and smiled up at him.

“Good girl,” he cooed, pulling you up to him, “I’m so proud of you.”

Nicholas stood in front of you, his hands gentle but firm as he carefully took off your dress, his gaze never straying from you. His eyes were filled with admiration, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t want to take off the beautiful dress you’d been wearing all night but you somehow looked even more beautiful underneath.

“You're absolutely stunning,” he whispered, his voice low and sincere. “I can’t even begin to explain how gorgeous you are.”

You felt your cheeks heat at his words, but his tone was so comforting and warm that any nervousness quickly faded. His hands were tender as they glided over your skin, slowly removing your undergarments from your body, piece by piece.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his eyes locking onto yours for a moment, checking if you were still comfortable.

You nodded, feeling a sense of trust as he continued. “Yes, I'm okay.”

Nicholas took a deep breath, visibly trying to steady himself. He reached out and held your hand, squeezing it gently as he spoke again.

“I want you to know that this is all about you,” he said softly. “And I’m here with you every step of the way, okay? If you need a moment, we can stop. Just tell me.”

You nodded again, your heart fluttering, feeling a mix of excitement and comfort with his reassurances.

“This might be a bit uncomfortable at first and once again, if you want me to stop, let me know.”

He lined his raw, hard cock with your entrance, his movements slow and thoughtful, making sure everything was gentle. He kept his promise, holding your hand tightly and keeping his focus entirely on you.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. “You feel like Heaven.”

His thrusts stilled when he felt your barrier, and he slowly leaned down, your hand remaining in his as he kissed you softly. He pushed against the barrier and you bit down on your lip, the discomfort unmistakable but soon fading into immense pleasure. Your hot married boss was taking your virginity.

He rubbed your clit as he moved inside you, his thick cock only managing to go half way in, yet it felt so good. His muscles flexed as he was above you, his abs glistening under the candlelight.

He continued to check in with you, asking if you were okay, his affection unwavering. You felt safe, cherished, and respected as he made sure to only move forward when you gave him the go ahead each time he checked if you were fine.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You're taking me so well,” he murmured. “I knew you would.” His words and steady thrusts built you up and you felt the coil in your stomach tighten. Your pussy clenched around his cock even tighter, your moans growing louder.

“I know baby, I know. Cum for me, cum on my cock,” he encouraged.

He pressed his forehead against yours, and your fingers dug deep into his back, leaving a trail of fire as an intense orgasm washed over you. Your legs shook and you cried out as you came, his touch comforting and grounding you through it all.

He caressed your cheek, moaning as a rush of liquid soaked his cock. “That’s it. Good girl.”

When your breathing slowed, he gently flipped you onto your stomach, his touch delicate as he continued thrusting slowly, tracing kisses along your shoulders and down your back. “You’re so beautiful, from this angle.”

His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements on his cock as the sensitivity made you feel the tension build again, his whispered words filling you with warmth and reassurance.

“Rub your clit for me, sweetheart” he panted, cock pulsing inside you.

Doing as you were told, you rubbed your clit, jolts of pleasure shooting through you. His thrusts increased but still gentle and each time he pulled out leaving only the tip in, his cock was covered in your cream and juices.

“Cum again for me, baby. Cum with me while I cum inside this perfect pussy,” he breathed. “Best fucking pussy I’ve ever had.”

With one final thrust, he groaned, a low and guttural sound—almost primal spilling inside you as you clenched down on his cock and squirted. You milked him of all he had, ropes of his hot cum lodged deep inside you. He stilled, tracing his fingers along your spine. “You have the most perfect ass,” he teased, making you smile as you both caught your breath.

The warmth of Nicholas’ embrace putting you on your back made reality slowly settle around. He held you close, his lips pressing against your forehead. His breath was still a little uneven, but his focus was entirely on you.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, tilting your chin so he could meet your gaze. His eyes were full of concern. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, a shy smile on your lips. “No,” you whispered. “That was amazing.”

Something in his expression softened even more and he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb on your cheek. “You were perfect,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m honored you trusted me with this.”

The exhaustion was beginning to settle deep in your bones and Nicholas noticed immediately, shifting to sit up, his arms still wrapped securely around you. “Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” he said gently. “You’re tired, I’ll take care of you.”

Before you could protest, he had already lifted you into his arms, carrying you through the candlelit room and into the bathroom. The scent of roses was still in the air, mixing with the faint cherry aroma of the bath bomb he poured into the warm water. Steam came around you both as he stepped into the tub, settling in first before guiding you between his legs, your back resting against his chest.

His arms circled around your waist, holding you securely as the warmth of the water enveloped you. His lips brushed against your shoulder, trailing soft kisses up to your neck. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice full of awe. “And you did so good for me. I hope you know how much you mean to me.”

A deep warmth spread through your chest and you leaned into him, allowing your eyes to flutter shut as he ran a washcloth over your skin with delicate care.

By the time he had you wrapped in a plush towel and carried you back to bed, sleep was already pulling at you. He slipped in beside you, tucking the covers over both of you before pulling you into his arms once more. His heartbeat was steady beneath your cheek, his fingers tracing light patterns along your spine.

“You mean the world to me,” he whispered, pressing one last kiss to your hair.

As sleep began to take you under, you barely registered his next words, soft, almost like a breath against your skin.

“I love you.”

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Tags: @blackynsupremacy @hoffmansgirl @emluvsuxo @hopefully-saturn @iamsebastiansstan @chavezhoe @jennieonline @girldisrupted @nicholaschavezslut69

[prettylynnpup]

The Neighbor

You'd been hearing tale on and off about someone moving in to that empty house across the street. These tales weren't new though - it seems like there'e been at least one "rumor" per year, and they've always been wrong.

At least, they used to be wrong. Until xe moved in.

9:30 PM, you'd just gotten off of work and finally made it home when you got a knock on your door. "Who the fuck would knock at 9:30?" You pondered to yourself. Because, as far as you remembered, nobody in this neighborhood would knock so much as past 6.

You walk to your door, not knowing what to expect, and you open it. On the other side of the door is a girl you've never seen before. Long black hair, a black dress, chains, some green accents, and a collar were the things you thought most notable about xer. You weren't sure why, but you were especially taken in by that collar, almost like it was stealing your vision away from xer beautiful-

"Hey, neighbor. I just wanted to stop by because I'm still meeting everyone in the neighborhood. Name's Fern."

*click*

Fern... You couldn't stop repeating xer name in your head, no matter how hard you tried. You could swear that you heard a click when xe said xer name, but you elect to ignore it. The name kept repeating and repeating, making it harder to think. At least, until xe waved a hand in your face.

"Hey! Earth to uh, whatever your name is, are you doing okay?"

'Yes! I'm splendid actually!' You wanted to say in response, but found yourself letting out a gentle bark.

"What was that? I think I misheard you?" Fern probes.

You bark again, more confidently.

"I guess I didn't mishear you then, did I?" A glimmer seems to appear in Fern's eye when xe realizes that, yes, you did just bark at xer twice.

"How about we operate like this: one bark for yes, two for no?"

You bark once in response. If you're not going to be able to use your words then goddamn it will you find another way to communicate with the gorgeous owner woman standing on the other side of your door.

"Do you know why it is that you're barking?"

You bark twice. No clue.

"So you didn't notice?"

You turn your head in confusion. Notice what? Did xe do something while you weren't paying attention?

"And you 100% don't remember me at all?"

You bark twice. 'No.' These questions were starting to get really strange. What did xe mean, remember xer? This is xer first time over to your door, right?

"Good. Good puppy."

*click*

A shock went down your spine as you felt yourself get turned on at that phrase. You were painfully embarrassed to be turned on in front of new company, and even more so by the thing that turned you on. Being called a good puppy? You'd never been into petplay - you tried being an owner for your last partner and it just really didn't work out.

Fern walks into your house, heading straight for your kitchen.

'Hey! What are you doing in here? Get out of my house!' Oh right, all you can do is bark. So, you follow xer around your house and bark and bark and bark while xe rummages through your cabinets.

"Puppy, sit."

Your body obeys. You're now on the floor, entirely against your own will. You try to get up, but your arms are so heavy and your paws hands feel so stupid.

"There we go!" Fern loudly announces as xe finds whatever it is that xe was looking for. After a few seconds of fiddling, xe moves behind you and your tail starts wagging gently.

Wait, you don't have a tail, right? How would you be able to feel wagging if you don't have a tail? What the fuck is going on?

*click!*

You feel something tighten around your neck... Your owner put your collar on! Yay!!! You love your owner and you're so glad that xe's back!

Wait... N-no, you don't... That's not right... Something's wrong...

"There we go, that's my sweet pet~"

You start panting... Owner's words feel so good... Maybe you should just fully give in, but only this once right? You won't submit any more after this...

*click!*

You feel a tug from your collar... Owner leashed you today! Thank goodness, you wouldn't want to get lost. Owner picks up a set of keys from the ground and locks that old house, and you and owner start the journey to xer house.

"Finally, fully my little puppy~"

Support me on Ko-fi?

[brokenmenswhore]

betrothals & brothels | aegon, aemond, & jace

part 6 (finale)

pairings: aegon targaryen x stark fem!reader, aegon targaryen x stark fem!reader, jacaerys velaryon x stark fem!reader

series summary: aemond targaryen tells the realm that you, the lady of house stark, are to wed him and secure a partnership in the north. in protest, you agree to marry jacaerys velaryon, affirming the north’s allegiance to rhaenyra. when the news hits king’s landing, aegon decides it’s better to have you under his watchful eye until the political partnership is solidified, but doesn’t realize you have a life away from your duty as a stark

chapter warnings: SPOILERS: smut (MDNI 18+), anal, double penetration, foursome

a/n: if you thought this was ending literally any other way… you came to the wrong blog. it’s like the whole reason i wrote this damn series. also PLEASE keep in mind it’s been MONTHS since i wrote the other 5 parts so i did my BEST with continuity life happens okay also i didn’t proofread sue me

series masterlist

────── ☾ ──────

“Surely you must be lying.”

Cregan, who was already overwhelmed and upset with you, sighed in defeat. “I cannot explain to you how truly I wish I was.”

“I’m going to kill him,” you said, storming off past your brother with an intensity that only the culprit of your anger could match.

It was much too early in the morn for you to be dealing with such a strife, but it could not wait. He would not ever expect to, anyway.

You pushed open the Great Hall doors so forcefully that they slammed back against the wall, violently alerting the room’s occupant of your presence. You stopped just after the doors, refusing to grant him the kindness of moving any closer.

“I cannot fathom one singular acceptable reason for your being here,” you spat.

Aemond smirked, still nonchalantly hunched over in a grand chair. “Trust me, I did not wish this so.”

“Oh, you mean to tell me the great one-eyed prince had his hand forced? Not likely.”

“I’ve never seen you quite this angry,” Aemond taunted, “I rather enjoy it.”

Aemond tried to stand, but you quickly warned, “move and I’ll kill you.”

“Doubtful,” he said, still nonchalant as he stood and straightened out his back.

“Aemond, I swear to the sep-“

“I’m here for my brother.”

Despite your anger, you were taken aback by Aemond’s words. Aegon had left days ago.

“Sore luck checking here.”

“I know he came here. Give him back and I’ll depart.”

You scoffed. “You make the mistake of assuming your brother is a piece of property, much like how you treated me.”

“Give him back and I’ll depart,” he repeated.

“I already told you, he’s not here.”

“You think I cannot tell when you lie?” Aemond contested, stepping forward.

“Do not take another step,” you warned.

“What reason do you have to guard him, hm? You truly fancy him so much? Clearly you must if you bed him,” Aemond said, stepping even closer.

“I do not enjoy repeating myself,” you said.

Aemond was now even closer to you, his body mere inches from your own. “Give me Aegon.”

You spoke through gritted teeth, pausing between your words for emphasis, “he. Is. Not. Here.”

Aemond stepped closer, and you took a step backward to avoid your bodies touching. He did not stop, however, and continued to encroach upon your personal space until your back hit the wall of the dining hall.

Aemond slammed his hands against the wall on either side of your head, trapping you in the cage of his presence.

“You think I wanted to come here? Do you think I would have truly done so if not necessary?”

You were taken aback by Aemond’s sudden candor. “If you wish to see your brother, you should look no further than your own home. He left Winterfell as quickly as he came.”

“Then explain to me why his bed has remained unoccupied.”

“What makes you think I would know? Perhaps he frequents the very brothel he, like yourself, found me in.”

Aemond’s face was intimately close to your own, but you tried your hardest to focus your gaze toward his eye. You remained in a stalemate for several moments, exchanging a weighted stare.

“Okay,” Aemond said, backing away and holding his arms behind his back in a proper stance, “did he say where he was headed?”

“I suppose he returned home, Aemond, I do not keep track of your king.”

Aemond remained silent.

You both stared expectantly at one another, yet the room filled with silence.

“I am to wed Jacaerys in the morn,” you said, calculated but somewhat blurt out.

“I am aware.”

“Do you not, perhaps, think it nice to attend?”

Aemond stared at you for a moment. “You wish for me to attend your wedding?”

“You are already here.”

Aemond nearly scoffed. “You have not hidden your disdain for me, Stark. Extending the courtesy of an invitation does not mask such things.”

“Contrary to what you may believe, I do not enjoy hating you,” you said.

“I very hesitantly decline.”

You furrowed your brow. “You decline?”

You had extended the invitation, perhaps for selfish reasoning, but outwardly to show Aemond a kindness. After all he had put you through, the very least he could do was attend your wedding. After all, it has been his own actions that were responsible for its delay.

“Accept my gratitude for the invitation-“

“After all you have done-“

“After all I have done?” Aemond’s voice suddenly raised, but you stopped him before he could continue.

“I thought you and I had an understanding, yet you told of my doings in King’s Landing in a heinous letter to my brother. I did not think you so spiteful. You- you-“

“You- you have been the very bane of my existence,” he took over, “You have contradicted my every action, my every word, my every thought, and held yourself in rather high regard in doing so. You spoilt an alliance with the North for my house-“

“You petulant child!” you cut him off, your voice overtaking his, “is all you care about your honor? Your duty? Is kindness for naught? You dare take anger with me and speak that I spoilt an alliance for your house? Do you forget what you’ve done? How you threatened to burn my home? Abducted me from it? Kept me prisoner in hopes I would bend to your will?”

“I did what I had to do!” Aemond screamed, “while you spent the time you could have been comfortable in a castle slumming it as a whore-“

“Are you truly so bothered that you could not bend me to your will? All you want is to feel like you have the power, like you’re a man more so than your brother. You never cared about a marriage, you never thought of even attempting to gain my affections, yet you storm around this room, in my home, like a toddler whose toy has been taken away-“

“I AM BOTHERED BECAUSE I COULD NOT GAIN YOUR AFFECTIONS!”

It was not often you were rendered speechless. It was not in your nature. However, upon hearing Aemond’s rather bellowing confession, all time stood still.

He suddenly became brutally aware of his words, and quieted his voice, fighting to calm down his angered breaths as he looked to you for a retort.

“Excuse me?” you spoke, your voice low.

You looked to Aemond, but he could not speak. He had stunned himself into silence.

You swallowed hard as the air thickened. You initiated a break in eye contact and attempted to collect your thoughts quicker than usual. You had to speak first, and you had to have the last word.

“I will ask the handmaidens to prepare a bed chamber in the Guest House near the Godswood,” you said, your tone forcefully monotonous, “I shall see you in the morn.”

You, without looking up at Aemond, turned on your heel and exited the Great Hall.

────── ☾ ──────

The thrashing of your body against the mattress abruptly pulled you from slumber, your handmaidens frantic as they shook you awake.

No one was more excited for your wedding day, perhaps, than your handmaidens. As women you considered friends, they had all seen the sparks fly between you and Jacaerys, and had all looked forward to this day for as long as you were old enough for men to propose marriage to their son for a trade of goods.

You reminded yourself of all that was at stake; you wanted this marriage, you wanted Jacaerys, but that did not mean there was no turmoil ahead. Jacaerys’s family would, as tradition tells, be in attendance. You had never been granted the privilege of meeting the Queen.

You contemplated that it was a rather crass and impulsive decision to ask Aemond to attend, given that he was perhaps Rhaenyra’s biggest foe. Yes, Aegon had her throne, but Aemond was more of a threat to Rhaenyra and her cause, and all of the realm knew it.

You allowed yourself a moment of calm as you remembered Aemond’s decline of your invitation and your subsequent argument.

The argument.

Had Aemond truly spoken the words you believed to have heard? Had he truly said he was bothered by his inability to gain your affections? Had he wanted to gain your affections?

As you stated into the mirror, your handmaidens tending to your hair, you wondered if you had possibly forsaken the depth of Aemond’s character. Had you been so headstrong as to miss a whole other person behind the eye? You had experienced the same with Aegon.

It was the day you were to wed Jacaerys, and you could not forget the two silver-haired brothers who had plagued your past several weeks.

“It’s time!” your handmaidens exclaimed.

You glanced in the mirror one final time to ensure all the minute details of your appearance were up to your standards before you were whisked away to marry Jacaerys.

You were grateful that he had agreed to host the wedding in Winterfell. Winterfell was, while devoted to the Blacks, a more neutral space than Dragonstone. Had Aemond or Aegon agreed to attend, a wedding elsewhere would not likely ever take place.

The wedding was beautiful.

Your handmaidens has spearheaded a majority of the work, being that the work had begun, then you were kidnapped and the work was halted, and then a while later you returned and agreed to wed Jacaerys rather soon after.

You had made it to your reception, a rather lavish affair considering it was the wedding of the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. You understood that this wedding was special. Jacaerys was to be King someday, and therefore you were to be Queen.

Jacaerys seemed elated the entire time. You were able to grasp a quick moment of solitude in a whisper between chairs.

“Jace?”

“Yes?”

“Is everything alright? I know it’s been a rather tumultuous week and-“

Jacaerys sighed. “My love, I’ve already told you I am not angry about what transpired with Aegon. Even if I had been, this is our wedding. And our wedding day means a rather fun wedding night, wouldn’t you agree?”

He was evidently feeling the effects of the many cups he has drank thus far.

You smiled at your now-husband. “Jacaerys Velaryon, are you flirting with me? But won’t your wife see?”

Jacaerys leaned over to whisper in your ear, “I’ve heard you could probably fuck better anyway.”

You leaned away and caught his gaze to gage whether or not he meant it as spite toward you, but the look on his face immediately explained that he meant it positively. Being experienced acted as a rather unexpected turn on for your husband.

────── ☾ ──────

“Are you still drunk?”

Jacaerys smiled. “I appreciate your concern, but no,” he insisted, “I’m well sobered up for this.”

You sat on your bed, still fully clothed, in anticipation of the bedding ceremony. Jacaerys extended his hand to you, and you placed yours in his, allowing him to guide you to a stand.

“Can I take this dress off of you?” he asked.

You smiled at his sweetness. “Yes.”

Jacaerys undid all the small buttons aligned down your back and slipped top of the dress down your shoulders, allowing you to shimmy out of the remainder of the rather lavish gown.

You were so focused on disrobing that you had not noticed Jacaerys’s momentary absence until he returned in front of you, holding out a black cloak.

You looked up at him with a questioning expression.

“I am in this for every part of you, Stark,” he explained, “a bedding ceremony in this castle just simply will not do. It is not fit for you.”

“Jacaerys-“

He held up a hand to signal that he intended to continue. “We do not have to. However, please understand that I want to know. I want to experience. I want to feel the freedom you feel in those places. Teach me, Y/N. Please.”

You searched Jacaerys’s eyes for any hint of hesitation or untruthfulness, but to no avail. The prospect of brothels excited him, but he was not one to attend. He craved connection, and he craved intimacy with a name, a personality, a partner. The dichotomy had lived within him, and your secret profession was finally an outlet.

“We must be extremely discreet.”

────── ☾ ──────

You took Jacaerys to the brothel you worked at, perhaps no longer. You had advised him to still maintain anonymity via his cloak, for regardless of the higher safety of your concealed identity at this particular brothel, you were still in Winterfell, and you were still a Stark.

At the allowance of the Madam, you began to pull Jacaerys toward an unoccupied room. Once inside, you removed the hood of your cloak. Jacaerys followed suit.

“‘Tis loud in here,” Jacaerys said, in reference to the moaning and bellowing laughter of collective drunken men.

You nodded. Jacaerys wasted no time.

He pulled your waist into his body, crashing his lips against yours as if he had been waiting to reunite with them for ages.

Your hands instinctively found their way through the curly black strands of his hair, keeping him close to you as the kiss remained hungry and needy.

You managed to escape for a breath just long enough to say, “wait.”

Jacaerys pulled away with a pout on his lips.

“Patience, Jace, allow me to get some cups in here.”

“But-“

“I will not be but two minutes.”

Jacaerys pouted as you began to exit the room, flipping your hood upward.

Jacaerys reached out for your arm to pull you back. “Baby, please.”

The pet name almost stopped you, but you persevered. When you still left, he plopped down on the bed like a toddler in want throwing a tantrum.

You kept your head down as you navigated through the brothel. You saw approaching footsteps as a guide to where you could step, and you had managed to memorize the layout of the brothel by heart. You made it to the bar without having to look at any of your immediate surroundings.

It was not until the Madam approached you that you halfway lifted your head and requested two cups of water and two cups of wine.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

The voice to your right was all too familiar.

You were taken aback by the sight of him. He would appear drunk to the naked eye, but you knew him. The look in his eyes communicated that he had drank to the point of intolerance, no longer drunk, but drinking nonetheless.

Aemond was right. He had not returned home. He had never even left Winterfell.

“What are you doing here?”

“Could ask you the same,” he said, taking a large gulp from his cup, “or is it not your wedding night?”

He refused to look you in the eye. In fact, he had not looked toward you at all. He was able to identify your voice, even with the cloaked barrier between the two of you.

“Aegon, you told me you would leave the morn after whence you came.”

“Evidently I did not.”

The Madam placed the drinks in front of you, and you smiled as a thank you, waiting until she left your space to continue speaking to Aegon.

“Why?”

Aegon simply let out a laughable scoff and continued to drink.

“Aegon.”

“Y/N.”

“What are you doing in Winterfell, Aegon.” It was phrased more as an exhausted sentence, rather than a genuine question.

Aegon sighed. “You mustn’t pretend as if you are unaware of my plights.”

You were not unaware. You had thought of him many a time since your intimacy together, and you knew he had done the same. You also knew that you and Aegon were far past the point of disguising vulnerabilities.

“Is Jace around? Or are you a lone wolf on your wedding night? My little nephew can’t handle you?”

“Do not bait me, Aegon, you know it will not work,” you said.

“No, no, where is he? Is he here?” Aegon stood abruptly, swinging wine out of his cup as he began to spin around.

“Aegon-“

“Is he in here?” Aegon approached an occupied room, swinging back the fabric to see a worker and her customer.

“Nope,” Aegon said, moving on to another room, “maybe he’s hiding in here!”

Aegon swung the fabric open to find his own flesh and blood curled into a ball on the mattress, two workers surrounding him as he lay with his head in one of their laps.

He shot upward the moment he spotted Aegon, and his body stilled when he noticed you.

Aegon erupted into cacophonous laughter, a wide grin appearing on his features for perhaps the first time tonight.

Aemond stood and began to tie a robe around his lean, tall frame, pretending as if Aegon’s interruption and subsequent laughter did not bother him.

“Oh, what a sight! We shall never need comfort of our mother if we find solace here! How sweet of you. Tell me, do you even fuck them, or do you-“

Aemond pushed past both of you, but you gripped his wrist before he could make it fully past you.

He looked to where you had caught him, then up to your face.

“What are you doing here?” Aegon squealed.

Aemond stayed silent.

“I cannot stand you two. Come with me,” you said.

You pulled Aemond along, and he only obliged so as not to cause a scene and draw attention to himself or his brother. Aegon followed you out of pure amusement.

When you entered the room with Jacaerys, he was already shirtless, adjusting his posture on the bed to try to look proper for your return. When he spotted his uncles, he reacted the same as Aemond had, shooting upward to a stand.

You dropped Aemond’s hand and stood across from the three Targaryen-blooded men. Dropping your cloak off of your body, you took a large breath.

“Well, get on with it, then,” Aegon prompted.

“You,” you started, pressing a pointer finger into Aegon and Aemond’s chests, “you two have been sulking and stalking around Winterfell without a word. What am I, your mother? A king and a soldier should be able to overcome their own woes.”

“So you admit I am king?” Aegon smiled.

“Never.”

“Why have you lingered in the North so long?” Aemond cut you off, turning to his brother, “I am only here because your incompetent council sent me to retrieve you.”

“I do not need retrieving, thank you, brother,” Aegon responded.

“I opt to disagree, for it appears that you’ve spent the last several days drowning your sorrows in snowy brothels in hopes you’ll find yourself another pet wolf, or am I mistaken?”

“Mind your tongue and remember your place,” Aegon spit.

“This is-“

Jacaerys attempted to interject, but his two uncles were too far invested in their own bickering.

“Just as well for you to remember yours. What King discards their duty for the loss of a woman that was not theirs to lose? You are but a placeholder, you evidently do not deserve-“

“You speak so confidently for a man in my same position when it comes to wolves.”

Jacaerys began to understand. He knew you had shared intimacies with Aegon, and he had yet to question you on the dynamics present during your time with his other uncle. He had fallen for you rather easily, and would never admit it aloud, but could understand how his uncles could do just the same. Though it left a bitter taste in his mouth, he knew you were much too special to win the heart of only one man.

The realization caused Jacaerys to become somewhat competitive and possessive. “You are both aware we wed today,” he said.

Aemond and Aegon turned toward him.

“Despite my best efforts,” Aegon mumbled.

“Oh shut it, Aegon, you have already had her,” Jacaerys snapped back, “what sorrows do you possibly have to drown?”

“You married her.”

“And I have been cast as the villain, yet you two continue to be the ones to bicker,” Aemond spoke, level-headed.

“Perhaps you were cast as the villain because you acted as such,” Jacaerys shrugged.

“Say that again,” Aemond challenged, stepping closer to Jacaerys and towering over him. Had he possessed his sword, he would have drawn it.

“You kidnapped her, and now you stand here and complain that you-“

“I took her with me upon Aegon’s command,” Aemond cut off.

“Do not transfer the blame, brother. I thought I was too incompetent to be king?” Aegon tested.

“You are, that is why I am to be king,” Jacaerys said.

“Oh, but who sits on the throne, little boy?” Aegon spat, “because it certainly is not some-“

“Do not presume to-“

“You could not handle a woman like this if you tried,” Aegon continued.

All three men huffed in a stalemate, angered as they exchanged glances, all unsure of how to retort.

“Are you lot done then?” you questioned, seated on the bed nonchalantly.

“So what?” Aegon threw his hands up, “you dragged us in here so that we can all bicker? Is Jacaerys truly so boring that you cannot be alone with him, even on your wedding night?”

“Aegon, if you do not shut-“

“Innocent little Jacey, do you even know how to bed a woman?” Aegon tested.

Aemond scoffed in laughter, a smirk painting his otherwise stoic features.

“I must know something, if she chose me in the end,” Jacaerys replied.

“She’ll get bored,” Aemond began, speaking calm and collected, “and she will seek a challenge. Neither of you can provide the level of wit or intellect that I have.”

You remained silent, enjoying the entertainment from the men arguing. You hoped you were right about where this would all lead, you just needed to exercise patience.

Aegon, as he usually did, chose to ignore his brother, and continue chastising Jacaerys. “Do you need help, nephew? I can teach you, if you need, as I know you most definitely do not know-“

“And you do? You do not respect women the way one must in order to-“

“One man forever will never be enough for her,” Aemond interjected.

Jacaerys knew Aemond only said it to get it under his skin, however, despite his better judgement and knowledge, it was working. Jacaerys felt the pang of doubt in the back of his mind that this woman, this free, sexual woman who had bed multiple men, would not be fulfilled by just him.

Aemond could see his words sinking in. Aemond, the most calculated and logical of them all, knew there would only be one way to get you. “Allow us to aid you, Jacaerys.”

Aegon looked at his brother. “Excuse me?���

Aemond turned toward you. He had thought many times what he remembered now: you were the only one on his level. With you, he met his match.

He allowed Aegon and Jacaerys to bicker like children while he studied your expressions. He could tell exactly what game you were playing. You were stuck between three Targaryens, and while you wed one, Aemond believed that it did not mean you intended to tether yourself. He felt as if he knew you too well for that.

“She is my wife now, Aemond,” Jacaerys warned.

“And I will ensure she feels as such.”

The energy in the room began to shift. Despite the years of hatred, argument, and war, you wanted them all, and the one thing they had in common is that they all wanted you. They all had to internally admit the violent truth that the only way to have you wholly would be to share you.

You stood and approached your husband. “I promise to save the sanctity of our marriage for you, and you alone.” You assured him that he would be the only one to risk pregnancy tonight.

You maintained eye contact with Jacaerys as you removed your clothing until you were fully naked.

Jacaerys, despite the dread of critique from his uncles, could not wait any longer. He captured your lips in a heated kiss, refusing to worry about the other men in the room and focus on what he wanted.

You stepped backward until you felt the bed behind your legs. You swiftly turned Jacaerys around, pushing his back toward the mattress until he was horizontal.

He shifted his weight backwards so that his legs were no longer dangling off the mattress, but he was horizontal across the midsection of the foam.

You straddled his waist, tangling your fingers through the curly black strands of his hair as you resumed your kiss.

You grinded against his clothed length, eliciting a slight whimper from Jace in the kiss. Your felt yourself wetten at from the noise; you had been waiting what felt like a millennium to finally have him.

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” you heard Aegon say as Aemond positioned him behind you.

Aegon gently brushed his fingertips across the skin of your lower back, signaling his presence so as not to startle you.

You leaned back down to kiss Jacaerys again, and his hands found their way to your waist. He instinctively thrust his hips upward, desperate for friction.

You felt Aegon’s fingertips leave your skin, and in their place, two large hands grasped your waist and yanked your body backward so that your waist no longer hovered over Jacaerys’s, and your knees nearly slipped off the mattress.

In this new position, your face was mere inches away from where Jacaerys wanted you most.

“Off,” you said, tugging at the waistband of his breeches. Jacaerys shyly removed them, his cheeks flush when his cock sprung free in front of everyone.

You gazed up at Jace through hooded lids, licking a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, before sinking down onto as much of his length as you could.

Jacaerys threw his head back, a gasp escaping his lips at the sensation of your lips around him. His curls were splayed out on the mattress surrounding his head. He looked so handsome; the way his features contorted as he whined and moaned were reminiscent of a sculpture, an artist chipping away at beautiful marble and stone until the features were defined, each chip shifting the features, however they never lost beauty.

You began to bob your head up and down, and you admired the way Jacaerys’s stomach tightened with each stretch of his back or sharp inhalation.

You could hear when Jacaerys inadvertently let himself get lost in the pleasure, because his heavenly sounds were growing rapidly in volume and length.

One of his hands found the back of your head, and he did not apply pressure, but simple kept his hand there for the comfort that it meant you would not pull away.

You felt a tap on the inside of your left thigh. “Wider,” Aemond commanded.

You lifted off of Jacaerys’s cock with a pop, turning your head around to look at Aemond. “Or what?”

Aemond nearly growled, knowing you were too stubborn to not get your way. He swallowed his pride, and through gritted teeth, said, “please.”

You smirked at your success and widened your legs. It forced your backside higher, leaving you on display for Aemond and Aegon, who resided next to his brother in anticipation.

Your mouth resumed its attention toward Jace, and he let out a rather filthy moan of your name.

Aemond ran a slender finger through your folds, drawing more wetness from you. He knelt to the ground, still almost taller than you on his knees from his extravagant height.

His hands wrapped around your thighs as he delved into your cunt, his tongue dancing through your folds.

You remained attached to Jace, but that did not stop whimpers and moans. The vibrations around Jace’s cock send shivers up his spine.

“Can’t,” was all Jacaerys could say to signal that you had to cease your actions, or else he would come.

You pulled off of him and immediately let out a strangled moan. Aemond moved his tongue faster and faster monitoring your facial expressions the best he could from behind you.

You dropped your head onto Jacaerys’s thigh, one cheek pressed against his skin and the other toward the sky, allowing him to watch your face as Aemond ate you out.

Jacaerys could not help but stroke your hair, pushing the sweat-soaked strands out of your face as he watched your brows furrow and lips part in pleasure.

Your back arched and straightened slightly every few seconds as you moved against Aemond’s tongue. He was as skilled as you had expected. His nose hit against you every few movements he made, adding to your arousal.

His grip on your hips was becoming tighter and tighter. He felt a certain possessiveness take over as his brother, who typically got everything while Aemond got nothing, and Jacaerys, the one who actually got you, watched him pleasure you so good you nearly fell apart.

He licked and sucked at your cunt, his grasp on your legs definitively hard enough to bruise as your whines became higher and higher in pitch.

It was not until you began to grind yourself against his tongue that he stilled, allowing you to use his tongue for your own pleasure.

Your ever so slightly bounced your hips upward and downward against Aemond’s face, and the sight just about killed Aegon.

Jacaerys continued to stroke your hair as a reminder that he was there, and he was your husband.

Aemond pulled away without warning, leaving your core exposed and cold. He circled the bed until he was in front of you, but he was still fully clothed. He was playing a calculated game, and you caught on. Knowing Aemond, he would only take his turn when it was the least convenient for you.

You knee-crawled back to Jacaerys’s hips, looking down at his face as you searched for any signal that he was not ready for you.

You took Jacaerys’s cock in your hand, and after a few short strokes, you lined it up with your entrance, slowly sinking down until he was entirely inside of you.

You placed your hands on either side of his head, your back slightly arched as you searched for his reaction.

“Holy- oh my- fuck,” Jacaerys moaned. You had yet to move.

Aegon stood behind you, simply enjoying the sight of you as his cock throbbed with desire.

“Let me know when I can move, Jace,” you spoke softly.

“Oh my gods please move,” he nearly begged.

You appeased him but lifting your hips a small amount before dropping them back again, and Jacaerys lost all control. His body writhed beneath you, and you had to place a hand onto his cheek to draw him back to earth.

“Relax, Jacey.”

Jacaerys took a deep breath. “No.”

Jace wrapped a strong arm around your waist and pulled you into his body, causing your head to fall into the crook of his neck as your body pressed against his chest.

He began to thrust his hips upward, pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. The arm around your waist held you in place, allowing Jacaerys control as he used you.

“Shit- you feel b- better than I imagined,” he sighed out.

You moaned in response, unable to make much noise since one hand was against the back of your neck, holding you in place against him, and your voice fell straight into the mattress.

Despite his own selfish desires, Aegon allowed Jacaerys quality time to feel and connect with you. He could wait another few minutes if it meant he didn’t have to give you up.

Jacaerys pressed down on your lower back, pushing you back against his thrusts, causing his cock to hit even deeper within you. You arched your back and moaned in his ear at the sensation.

You whisper-whined so only he could hear, “doing so good, Jacey.”

The praise only egged him on more, and he began to thrust inside of you as quickly as he possibly could.

He tired quickly, resetting a steady pace.

Aegon took it as an opportunity to touch you again, this time by tapping his hardened cock against one of your ass cheeks.

“Jace, baby, wait a second,” you said.

“I don’t think I can- shit, can ever stop fucking you,” he moaned.

“One minute, my love, just still for one minute,” you pleaded, and Jacaerys forced himself to stop moving.

He gave Aegon a dirty look, so as to say ‘how dare you interrupt my fun.’

Aegon used his fingers to circle your folds for a moment, causing your core to clench around Jacaerys.

He used your wetness to lubricate his cock as best as he could before he lined it up with your backside.

You inhaled a sharp breath when his tip prodded past your ass. He stopped in fear that he had hurt you, and you noticed. “I’m okay,” you assured him, looking back at him.

“Just take it slow,” Jacaerys said, “if you hurt her, I swear to the sept-“

You leaned down and kissed Jacaerys to quiet him down as Aegon pushed further and further into you, slowly, almost excruciatingly so, until he was bottomed out inside of you.

Jacaerys was careful not to move until you had adjusted to Aegon as well.

When the burning sensation of pain subsided, you caught your breathing and told Aegon to be gentle and move.

Aegon did just that, fighting with every cell of his being to treat you kindly, when all he truly desired was to take you as he had in King’s Landing. He moved only halfway in and out, scared that any more intensity or movement would be too overstimulating.

Aegon set a slow rhythm, and Jacaerys gripped your hips to still them as he himself began to move.

You inhaled a sharp breath at the sudden stimulation. You had been in a room with two men before, but had never taken them at the same time.

“Are you alright?” Jacaerys half-whispered through shuddered breath, evidently struggling to speak and keep his composure.

You kissed him to ease his worries. He reciprocated instantly, and became greedy. He cherished that intimate moments like this could be his and his alone, despite what his two uncles may attempt.

You whined and whimpered as the two men fucked you in tandem. The pressure was enough to break you, but you refused to focus on anything apart from the intense pleasure of it all.

Just as it became pure ecstasy, you felt Aemond’s slender fingers stroke your hair. You lifted your gaze to meet his eye, then dropped your head slightly to see his hardened cock patiently waiting for your attention.

You began to shake your head. “No. Not unless the- fuck, shit, Aeg- take it easy- not unless, fuck! Eye patch. Off.”

Aemond stared down at your frame, gazing up at him expectantly, waiting for him to remove his eye patch while your body jolted forward and backward every few seconds or so.

Aegon’s presence was the reason Aemond was hesitant, and you knew it. Aegon had spend his entire life relentlessly teasing his brother for his handicap, but as Aemond looked to Aegon, he realized that Aegon did not even have the capacity to pay attention to his actions. Aegon was blissed out, a way Aemond had never seen when he had interrupted his brother with previous suitors and whores.

Aemond suddenly became violently aware that all three men currently occupying you were in the same boat; Jacaerys and Aegon were no strangers to Aemond’s feelings toward you. Though your relationship to Aemond was different, and his feelings were of different reason, they were present in all of them nonetheless.

Aemond almost felt bad for you, worried that the sheer amount of men surrounding you was much too overstimulating for you, but you hoisted your upper half upward, no longer laying on Jacaerys’s chest, but arms propped up on either side of his head as you looked to Aemond.

You reached up as far as you could, but could not stretch yourself high enough to capture Aemond’s eye patch in your hand. The new angle proved positive for Jacaerys, who threw his head back against the mattress and he rutted his hips even faster within you.

Aegon, ever competitive, felt the change in pace, and met it, fucking you faster and faster.

Jacaerys and Aegon entered a silent battle, each trying to fuck you faster and harder than the other, all the while still consumed in their own pleasure, and never looking at one another.

Your body subsequently collapsed onto Jacaerys. You allowed your body to adjust to the new brutal pacing, and when you looked back up to Aemond, his eye patch was gone.

“Beautiful,” you mouthed to Aemond, and you could have sworn you noticed a faint blush creep up to the apples of his cheeks.

Without breaking your eye contact, you opened your mouth and stick out your tongue, inviting Aemond to take the lead, as you couldn’t hold yourself up without falling straight back down onto your husband.

Aemond took his length in one hand and gripped your jaw in the other. His gaze was harsh as he pressed the head of his cock against your tongue. You closed your mouth around the muscle and he pushed in slowly, bottomed out, and immediately pulled out.

“You will not break me, Aemond, take me how you wish.”

Aemond did not need to be told twice.

He shoved his cock past your lips and began to fuck your mouth in a steady pace, not nearly close to the vigor Jacaerys and Aegon had, but steady nonetheless.

You moaned around Aemond’s cock as you squeezed around Jacaerys’s, and both men groaned in tandem.

“Fuck,” Jacaerys whined.

You could have waged that Jacaerys would be the first to come. He was the least experienced and the most pent up. You guessed that he would have come even earlier had he not pushed himself through a few near-orgasms to save himself from the teasing of his uncles.

Jacaerys grunted as he pistoned his hips against yours. He had no space to pull out of you to come, and he did not want to anyhow. His breathing quickened as the coil snapped in his lower abdomen.

Your head was still as Aemond fucked your mouth, and you squeaked around his cock when you felt Jacaerys’s seed paint your walls.

Jacaerys hit your hips with a few harsh thrusts, using you to milk his cock dry, and the thrusts pushed you further into Aemond’s cock. You fought back a gag as his tip brutally hit the back of your throat.

Clearly it was proper pleasure for Aemond, since he snaked one hand through the hair on the back of your head as he held you in place, and continued to hit the same sweet spot at the back of your throat.

“Aemond, fuck- can you, can you just come already? I’m dying here,” Aegon snapped through labored breaths.

Aemond, completely composed as if he wasn’t currently shoving his cock down your throat, spoke without stopping, “who said you had to wait for me, brother?”

Aegon groaned as his grip on your hips tightened. Jacaerys lay beneath you, still inside of you, simply enjoying the sight of you wrecked.

“I’m not going to finish before you, she finishes with me,” Aegon said.

Jacaerys placed his arms behind his head and watched in amusement as a small bulge appeared where your chin met your throat with every thrust from Aemond.

You forced yourself off of Aemond’s cock with a pop to say, “are you two seriously arguing right now?”

Aemond just shrugged. You turned back to look at Aegon, and his resolve broke. Seeing the look in your eyes as you gazed back to him, his cock in your ass, was enough for him to quickly unsheath his cock and release all over your back.

The moment Aegon pulled out of you, Aemond grabbed your arms and pulled you closer, which pulled you off of Jacaerys’s cock. He wanted you to kneel, but he did not want to hurt you by having you sit.

You remained bent over as you began to suck his cock again, this time bobbing your head and assisting in the work. Aemond threw his head back, and you admired the way his toned stomach flexed when his hips jutted forward.

You ran your tongue along the underside of his cock, swirling it around his tip as his thrusts continued. You looked up at him, teary-eyed and fucked out, and the sight was prettier than he could imagine.

“Don’t look up at me,” Aemond said, “or else I’m going to come down your throat.”

If your lips weren’t around him, you would have grinned. You didn’t break eye contact as you moved your head faster, and Aemond gripped your hair.

“I said don’t look up at me.”

You released from his cock, only momentarily, to say, “after all this time, you’d think you’d know that I don’t take orders from you.”

You went back to sucking and licking at his cock, staring into his eye as his cock twitched and swelled until he released into your mouth.

You remained in place until you were confident that he was completely finished. You pulled off of him and showed him your clean tongue.

He could not help it- he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips. “You’re my only equal, you know.”

“How sentimental,” you teased.

You rolled over and laid down on your back. The sheets felt soothing and comfortable beneath your aching, naked form.

“You alright?” Jacaerys checked in.

You simply smiled, looked to the ceiling, and began to uncontrollably giggle.

“Y/N?”

“Mhm?” you stopped laughing to hum.

“What now?” Aegon asked.

You shrugged and continued to smile as you caught your breath.

────── ☾ ──────

taglist: @torchbearerkyle @dracaryxzs @hangmanscoming @callsignwidow @velvetcrowbarcherry @kravitzwhore @darlingisntit @not-neverland06 @albionfay @cluz1babe @flusteredmoonn @sab-falco @ajanauia @lycaonpictusphotography

[satoruswifeyyyy]

lover, you should've come over (r. zoro x fem! reader)

chapter one: how to disappear completely

official playlist

masterlist

synopsis: reader and zoro are dating but it's not the same as before- something has changed.

the thousand sunny rocked gently on the waves, the sound of the ocean filling the gaps where laughter and teasing once thrived. the once lively and electric energy between zoro and you had faded into something quieter, heavier.

you sat on the deck, absentmindedly flipping through a book she had read a dozen times. you weren't really reading—your (your eye colour) eyes flickered towards the moss-headed swordsman at the other end of the deck, sharpening his swords like always. he hadn't spoken to you all day.

again.

it wasn't like you both were fighting. no. you both still kissed, still shared the same bed, still sat beside each other during meals. but something was… off. your banter had dulled, your playful arguments had disappeared. it was like they were just… there. existing beside each other instead of with each other.

and you hated it.

you sighed and shut your book.

"okay, spill," nami’s voice interrupted your thoughts as she sat down beside you.

you blinked at the navigator. "spill what?"

"oh, don't give me that," nami scoffed, crossing her arms. "you and zoro look like two ghosts haunting this ship. even luffy noticed, and you know that means something."

you bit your lip, hesitating. "it's just…" you sighed. "i don't know. things don’t feel the same anymore. it’s like he doesn’t look at me the same way."

"you sure?" robin suddenly joined in the conversation. "because from what i've seen, he still looks at you like a lost puppy when you're not looking."

nami nodded to that and you let out a small laugh, but it was hollow. "i just… i don’t know if he loves me the same way he used to."

"talk to him," nami said. "before you drive yourself crazy."

you nodded, but deep down, fear rooted you in place.

on the other side of the ship, zoro was sharpening his swords, pretending he wasn’t listening.

he knew something was wrong. he felt it in the way you hesitated before holding his hand, in the way you avoided his eyes when you laughed.

have you gotten tired of him?

zoro clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on wado ichimonji. the thought made his chest ache.

"oi, marimo," sanji’s voice broke through his thoughts. "what’s with that stormy look? thinking too hard? that’s dangerous for someone like you."

zoro glared at him. "shut it, curly-brow."

sanji smirked but then studied zoro’s face. the cocky grin faltered slightly.

"you know," he said, lighting a cigarette, "if you’re this lost in thought, it’s probably about a certain (your hair colour) bookworm."

zoro stiffened.

sanji scoffed. "tch. Idiot. just talk to her before you screw it up."

zoro growled. "i don’t need your advice."

sanji shrugged. "fine. then keep moping around like a lovesick fool." he turned to walk away, then stopped. "just don’t take too long, marimo. you might regret it."

zoro clicked his tongue, annoyed, but the words stayed with him.

that night, zoro found you sitting at the bow of the ship, staring at the horizon. the moonlight made her your hair glow, but your (your eye colour) eyes looked duller than usual.

"y/n" zoro spoke first, voice gruff but hesitant.

you turned to him, surprised. "yeah?"

zoro took a deep breath, scratching the back of his head. "is there something wrong between us?"

her eyes widened slightly. you hadn't expected him to ask first.

your heart pounded. this was it. this was the moment you had been dreading.

"…yeah," you finally admitted, voice softer than usual. "i think there is."

silence.

you both stared at each other, the weight of your words sinking in.

a/n: i know i don't really write anything other than jjk but i couldn't stop myself from writing this mini series 😭 this is my first time writing something like this idk, this series will probably have less than even 10 chapters lmao :) hope you guys like it!!

[altaiiriss]

Repost from Trans Chuuya week 2024

Day 3 — Gender euphoria

(This is a sequel to day 1; it can be read as a standalone but I suggest reading that one first!)

"Oh my—"

Dazai almost freezes as he steps into the kitchen.

The first thing he sees in the morning—

"Why is Chuuya wearing my shirt?" he asks, utterly dumbfounded.

Chuuya smirks. "Like what you see?"

"You didn't answer my question." Dazai chastises, taking a few steps towards the redhead as if he can't escape his magnetic pull.

"Nothing serious. Helps with the dysphoria."

A barely audible 'oh' escapes Dazai's lips as his eyes stare at his partner.

It's quite impossible to make out his silhouette through the shirt, for it is ridiculously bigger than Chuuya's regular clothes. He looks completely relaxed—a sharp contrast to the previous day where he could barely stare at his reflection in the mirror.

He looks—

"Handsome." Dazai mumbles before he can even form a coherent thought, his mouth clearly acting faster than his reasoning.

Chuuya's face suddenly heats up, cheeks flushing a lovely shade of red. Will he ever stop blushing at simple compliments?

"Shut up." he protests, heart pounding in his chest at the speed of light. "Go grab some clothes. We're going to that French bakery."

Dazai swallows. Chuuya declined the same offer less than 24 hours ago, terror settling in his stomach at the thought of being perceived the wrong way.

Today's different—Chuuya looks so confident and at ease that Dazai wishes he could freeze this moment and let Chuuya experience this happiness in eternal.

Damn, he would model Chuuya's body with his own hands like a sculptor if he could, if it meant the redhead wouldn't be at war with himself anymore.

When they enter the bakery a hour later, Dazai's brain is still processing the fact that Chuuya found a way to style his button up shirt into an actual outfit, despite the obvious wrong size.

A stylish slug, dare he say.

"A café au lait," the waitress repeats Dazai's order as she writes it down, then she glances at Chuuya. "What can I get you, sir?"

"A black coffee with extra ice, thanks." he replies, offering the lady a warm smile.

"Someone's in a good mood today, uh?" Dazai points out as soon as the waitress leaves, smiling in return.

"Shut up." Chuuya retorts, as if he's ashamed of his own happiness.

He's so silly, Dazai thinks.

"I can hear the slug thinking." Dazai observes. Reading Chuuya like a book is a familiar language that has been carved into his bones long ago. "Feeling good won't kill you, you know."

Someone suddenly approaches them before Chuuya is given the chance to reply.

"Uhm, sorry to interrupt," a young teenager mutters, unsure, and their gaze promptly lands on Chuuya, "May I ask you how to dress like this?"

"Like this?" Chuuya echoes back, brows furrowed.

"Like an elegant man."

"This elegant man is taken." Dazai chimes in, grabbing Chuuya's hand in a rather possessive manner.

"Oh god Dazai, why do you feel threatened by a literal kid," Chuuya groans, then smiles back at them. "What do you want to know exactly?"

The young kid, who is most likely around 16 years old, nervously plays with their hair. Both Dazai and Chuuya struggle to understand why they are so tense.

"I want to look like a boy too," they mumble quietly, as if they're afraid to admit it out loud, "I don't feel like a girl."

"Oh." Chuuya gasps, positively surprised. "You're like me."

"I'm like you?"

"I wanted to look like a boy too—I am a boy because I've never felt like I was girl."

The young boy nods, eyes shining with newfound joy. "I finally found someone like me."

Chuuya's breath gets stuck in his throat. It's like speaking to a younger version of himself, a teenager Chuuya who never shared his feelings with anyone until the Flags took him with them.

'The Flags got two trans boys now!' Albatross had said, and Chuuya had finally found a word that described that feeling he had been experiencing since forever.

"Yeah, we're alike, kiddo." Chuuya agrees, a warm feeling blooming in his chest.

"You two go have a chat now," Dazai, ever the mastermind, states cheerfully as he gets up, his seat now empty. "I'll be waiting outside."

Chuuya only comes out of the bakery one hour later.

"Well, it's time for us to head ho—" Dazai stops as he notices Chuuya's cheeks getting wetter. "Oh no, the slug is producing slug juices." Dazai sighs with faux annoyance and grabs Chuuya until he's burying him in his chest.

"I'm going to stain your shirt with my makeup." Chuuya mutters, heaving a shaky breath.

"It's going to be our washing machine's business."

"I'm not sad by the way," Chuuya clarifies, sniffing quietly. "Just overwhelmed."

"Chuuya stood up for himself inside that café as well, didn't he?"

"Yeah. It felt good. To be able to help someone just by being myself, I mean."

"Chuuya is always himself, on both good and bad days." Dazai murmurs, carding his fingers through red curls. "He doesn't stop being Chuuya when he struggles with himself. It's still you, always."

Chuuya tries to clean his face with the palm of his hands and Dazai does the same, brushing his thumb across Chuuya's reddened cheeks.

It takes some hugs and unfunny jokes for Chuuya to properly calm down, but in the end his heartbeat slows down and his mind is clearer.

"You know, he also asked me how to find a partner. Because of all the prejudice and stuff." Chuuya begins, breaking the comforting silence that previously settled between them.

"And what did you say?"

"That my partner is so pathetic and down bad that he never cared about it." he grins, and now Dazai knows Chuuya is back to his usual self. "And that while relationships with other trans people surely are more fulfilling, cis people can be respectful as well."

"What I'm hearing is Chuuya thinks our relationship is fulfilling ~"

"There are some exceptions to that rule. You are one of them."

Chuuya holds him close, his actions definitely not matching his words, and Dazai smirks like the annoying devil he is.

"You like me anyway."

"Sure grandma, let's take you to bed."

Dazai slides his arm around Chuuya's waist, keeping him close until they're basically glued to each other. While yesterday it felt wrong for Chuuya to be held—as if Dazai was touching something that should not exist—living in his skin is fine today.

He is able to look at himself confidently, fully aware that his body does not define him and that soft curves and a smaller body don't take away his identity.

Regardless of gender, he's still Chuuya and that's what matters the most.

[inhuman-obey-me]

Congrats on 100k likes!! Is there any more room or space left? If so, Belphegor and 7 pls!

Thank you!! And you're the lucky last one we're doing. <3

Belphegor + 7 | "Better Days" - Currents

cw: depression talk

It's said that when humans have a sleep paralysis demon haunting them, they often feel an unyielding weight upon their bodies, rendering them unable to move. It's a tried and true trick that Belphegor knows quite well.

"Is this what it feels like?" he muses, sprawled out on his bed as he stares at the ceiling, eyes tracing a pattern of painted stars. He's been doing this for the past ten hours, unable to get himself up to do much of anything else. The weight pressing down on him was suffocating, so why did he also find it so oddly comforting? Had he just gotten used to the heaviness? Used to the hole that had dug itself deep into his chest?

"Belphie, you haven't eaten anything all day." Beelzebub's voice draws him out of his thoughts. Lazily turning his head to meet his twin's gaze, he lets out a long sigh.

"Not hungry."

Beelzebub frowns, crumbs littering his face as he chews on whatever he just stuffed into his mouth. It's clear he wants to say something, but he instead plops down on the floor beside Belphegor's bed, leaning back and pulling out another snack to munch on. The seventh-born almost wants to tell him to leave, but he knows it'll get him nowhere — Beelzebub always knew when something was wrong.

"…Do you ever miss it?"

"Mish wha?" His brother responds, his mouth full.

"The Celestial Realm." Belphegor's fingers curl into fists, his brows furrowed as he turns to look at the wall. "Being an angel."

He can hear Beel pause his chewing before resuming at a quicker pace. After a few moments, Belphegor feels the bed tilt and move, Beelzebub now having lifted himself to sit on its edge.

"I mean, yeah. Sometimes." Beelzebub shifts. "It was a big part of our lives, so it's only natural, right? But I'm happy to be a demon now too, and to be here with our family, which is what's really important."

"Except for Lilith."

"…Yeah. Except for Lilith." His twin deflates. "…What's on your mind, Belphie?"

"Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one who just gets stuck." The words are bitter on his tongue, frustration rising in his voice. "I'm glad we finally found out the truth about what happened to her, but it doesn't erase the fact that she's gone. Everyone else just…moved on! And I'm just here."

That suffocating yet comforting weight, keeping him in place.

"…Are you here? It sounds more like you're there." With a forceful tap on Belphegor's shoulder, Beelzebub makes him turn towards him. "I…get it. You know I do. I still feel guilty — and yes, I know," he stops Belphie from interrupting, "…it's not my fault, it couldn't be helped. But I still feel that way. So sometimes I feel like I'm more there, you know." He scratches the back of his neck, trying to find the right words. "Mammon and Asmo talk a lot about 'living in the moment', and I think I get it. We can't change the past, but we can hold onto what we have right now, like each other."

"…Really? You got your great advice from those two?" Belphegor groans, but it's hard to hide the hint of a smile on his lips. "I think they're probably talking more about partying and doing something stupid."

"Probably, but it doesn't change what I said." Beelzebub stands up, holding out a hand to his brother with a determined look. "So, how about we try living in the moment right now? Maybe we can even go do something stupid."

A low chuckle, and it's like the weight lessens. A knowing sigh, and it lessens again. Belphegor reaches out to take the other's hand, letting himself get dragged off the bed.

"Okay. But don't blame me if Lucifer gets mad."

[lushaletta]

the ties that bind us / tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of death and murder, muggleborn!reader, dark!tom

summary: finally, he has you.

a/n: LAST PART (maaaaybe??) OF THE TOM MINISERIES!! guys i can’t lie that one ask really drove me… thank u btw!! im honestly not sure if i like this but maybe in the future ill rework it?? i did no beta reading whatsoever ummm…

⋆ ࣪.  ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

It was late, too late, really, when you found him. Tom was sitting by the window of the library, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across his face. He looks something of an Adonis.

You smile when you see him. You always do. It’s been a little bit since you’d had any time to talk. Between Murphy, exams, and Camilla, you’ve been distracted. For a moment, as you look at him, staring into his pensive eyes, you dare to hope everything will turn out fine.

“Tom,” you whisper, his name slipping from your lips the way it always does. The way that reduces him to something so pathetic he scowls at the thought. Though this time, your call doesn’t seem to draw him in.

When he finally looks at you, there’s something different in his features. You soon realise there’s no contemplation on his face. Not anger or frustration either. It’s empty.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” you say, forcing a cheerful smile, but it falls weak in the heaviness of the air. You step forward.

“Have you?” His voice was flat, detached.

You nod, trying to settle the unease bubbling in your chest. “Of course I have. It’s not like you’ve been making it easy to find you lately,” you tease lightly, but his lips stay set in a tight line. There was no flicker of amusement. “What’s wrong?”

Tom’s gaze moves to the floor, fingers twitching against the edge of the table. A muscle in his jaw ticks and his eyes meet yours again, dark and unreadable.

“I need to tell you something,” he says, voice low, almost as if he’s speaking to himself.

"What did you do?” you say, accusingly.

The way he’s looks at you now, like he’s trying to memorise every detail of your face, twists your gut. You open your mouth to speak, to ask him again what was wrong, but he holds up a hand, silencing you.

“I never wanted this,” he whispers thickly.

You blink, confused, and your smile falters. "Wanted what?"

Tom stands slowly, with his every movement measured, deliberate. His eyes remain locked onto yours, and in this fleeting moment, you can almost see the boy behind that distant stare. The boy who sat with you under shaded trees, splitting your desserts and helping you with your homework like he didn’t have a million other things to occupy his time. But that’s a faint vision now.

"You were never meant to get this close," he says, chillingly cold. "I was gonna end it. But I couldn’t."

Your heart hammers. His words make no sense. He’s speaking to you as if you’re the cause of some great tragedy, but you could barely understand what he was saying.

“I was selfish,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “And you... you never should have been part of this.”

Your brows furrow. “Tom, what are you talking about?”

There was a flicker of something in his eyes—something raw, something desperate—but it disappears almost as quickly as it comes. "I killed him," he says flatly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "He was never meant to have you. You’re mine."

Your breath catches in your throat, confusion making way for something you can only describe as dread. The words don’t register at first, and then, like a punch to the stomach—it hits you. Murphy.

You think about it for a beat, the way Murphy held every door open for you like the chivalrous young gentleman he is. Or you suppose was. The way he laughed and his blond curls.

He’s dead.

And the sickening truth washes over you all at once. Your hands shake. “Tom,” you whisper, voice trembling. “You—what have you done?”

And then he catches it. It’s not fear in your eyes. It’s not the terror and disgust he prepared himself for. It was… pity. You pity him, like he’s some sad, lost cause.

“Tom...” you say quietly, steadily now. “Why?”

He turns away from you, his face tight, and for the first time in.. whatever this was, you saw the faintest chink in his armor.

“You should have stayed away from me,” he says, barely audible. “I killed him,” he adds, like he’s trying to drill it in your head. Make you understand the weight of what he’s done.

You understand just fine.

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He destroyed someone else. And in his twisted, fucked-up impression of love and obsession, he destroyed you too. And in doing so, he’s taken a piece of your soul with him. Split his own even further. You’ve become a pawn in his game of immortality, and you’ll play your part well, he knows you will. You have to, so he can keep you alive.

And it’s now that you realise the horror of it all. You don’t even mind. You don’t care. You know logically you’re probably some fleeting thing, a casualty of his ambition, something to be used. You’ve given him something he’s never asked for—something that now makes you his captive.

For a second, you see something human in his expression. Something like guilt, or whatever version of it he could experience. Then he’s back to being Tom Riddle, statuesque and cold. Dark. He pushes you away in the name of his plans, and yet he can’t stop himself bringing you closer. He did this to you.

Everything screams wrong, but you don’t hear it anymore. It’s just you. And Tom Riddle, who murdered a boy for you. Or for himself— you can’t quite say.

“But I’m here.”

He takes a tentative step towards you, like he’s expecting you to flinch and run. Like you’re some figment of his imagination that will disappear if he’s not careful. But he reaches out and touches your face and you don’t look away once. His thumbs run over your cheeks, committing each freckle to memory. “I love you.”

There it was.

You freeze for a fraction of a second, but there’s no hesitation. “I love you too, Tom,” you say,

There is no sudden revelation of goodness. Some redemption that makes it all okay or a fairytale ending. Instead it’s a bond, that you can’t will yourself to break, twisted and irreversible, that binds you to him. You don’t pull away, because this, at least, is your choice.

You’ve sealed your fate.

The cost of living is death. Tom knows that, better than anyone else. He’s fixated on his demise since boyhood.

And he knows, better than anyone else, that it is inevitable and out of his control.

But this? The smell of your strawberry hair and the treacle tarts and the way you dot your I’s with hearts?

He can put his plans on hold. For now.

taglist for this series!! @shen-liqin @opheliavarlettxx @kenjikishimotoswifey @mariamyousef702 @enidths @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @girlogies @unwrittenletter @helalokithor @lisv1n @rafeyswrd @universallyblizzardlove @sarcastic-wit @eminems4ev3rgirl @mastermindmiko @radioheademo

[zuzu-tries-to-write]

Title: Sparks Between Us (part 3)

(Bakugo x Reader Fake Dating Fanfic —

Part 3)

You hadn't spoken in three days.

Not because you were mad. Not because anything had gone wrong. No

—because every time you looked at Bakugo, all you could think about was that kiss.

The way he had held you like he was claiming you. The way he had smirked against your lips, like he knew you wouldn't push him away. The way he had whispered, "Say you don't want me."

You never answered him. Because you couldn't.

And now, things were weird.

Bakugo wasn't ignoring you, exactly. He was still around, still sitting next to you in class, still standing just a little too close whenever you were in a group.

But he wasn't touching you anymore.

No more lingering hands on your waist.

No more whispered insults that somehow felt like affection.

It was like he was waiting for you to make the next move.

Which was a problem.

Because you had no idea what you wanted.

Well-that was a lie. You did know.

You just weren't sure if you were brave enough to admit it.

一

"Okay, what the hell is going on between you two?"

You nearly choked on your drink, eyes snapping up to find Mina glaring at you across the lunch table. Beside her, Kirishima and Kaminari nodded in agreement.

"W-what do you mean?" you stammered.

Mina narrowed her eyes. "Don't play dumb. You and Bakugo were all over each other last week, and now you won't even look at him. Did you break up?"

Kirishima frowned. "I thought he was, like... super into you."

Your heart skipped a beat. "W-what?"

"Dude, come on," Kaminari said, laughing. "He literally looked like he wanted to murder anyone who even glanced at you. That's, like, peak Bakugo romance."

Mina smirked. "And don't even get me started on the way he kissed you."

Your face burned. "You guys were watching?!"

"Uh, duh," Mina snorted. "And trust me

—that was not a fake dating kiss."

Your breath hitched

Not fake.

You thought back to the way Bakugo had held you, the way he had looked at you after. Like he knew. Like he was just waiting for you to admit it.

God, you were an idiot.

Without another word, you shoved back your chair and bolted from the cafeteria.

You needed to find Bakugo. Now.

-

You found him outside.

Leaning against the training grounds fence, hands in his pockets, eyes narrowed like he was deep in thought.

Like he was waiting.

Like he knew you'd come.

Your chest tightened.

Taking a deep breath, you marched toward him.

Bakugo glanced up, blinking in surprise.

"The hell do you-"

You grabbed his collar, yanking him down as you crashed your lips against his.

He froze.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Then—he growled, low and satisfied, and suddenly you were being pinned against the fence, his hands gripping your waist like he needed to hold you closer.

This kiss was messy, desperate-like you were both making up for lost time.

His fingers dug into your hips, his body pressed flush against yours, and you gasped when he bit down on your lower lip, smirking when you whimpered.

"You finally figured it out, huh?" he murmured against your lips.

You rolled your eyes, breathless. "Shut up."

He chuckled. "Nah. Think I like hearin' you admit you want me."

You groaned, but you couldn't deny it anymore. "Yeah, yeah. I want you, okay?

Happy now?"

Bakugo grinned. Not his usual smug smirk-something softer. Something real.

"Yeah," he murmured, brushing his lips against yours. "Real fuckin' happy."

And when he kissed you again, slow and deep, you knew-this had never been fake.

Not even for a second.

[reveriebae]

Her

pairing(s) : Model! Hongjoong x reader

word count : 2849

summary : Trapped between your father’s rules and your own desire, you know you can’t have Hongjoong forever—just one day. But one day is never enough.

genre : slight angst, suggestive

part of Songfic

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!

🪐smut under the cut🪐

The lights of the city blinked past you as you sat in the back of the blacked-out car, watching the streets blur with a cold detachment. The hum of the engine barely registered as your mind buzzed with thoughts that you couldn’t shake. Your father’s words echoed in your head, the weight of his expectations pressing down on you harder than ever.

“Keep your distance from people like him,” your father had said just hours before. His voice was as cold as the marble floors beneath his polished shoes. “He’s nothing but a fleeting shadow in this world. He’s just a model, Y/N. That’s all he’ll ever be.”

But Hongjoong—he wasn’t just a model. There was something about him, something that made you forget everything. The way he looked at you, as if he saw through all the layers you built to protect yourself. He wasn’t fooled by your designer clothes, your carefully curated life. He saw you—the real you—the one your father never acknowledged.

And now, you were here, in his car, hurtling toward something that felt dangerous.

He glanced at you, his eyes dark, unreadable. The air between you two was thick with tension, unspoken words hanging like smoke. His lips parted, but instead of speaking, he just pulled the car over to the side of the road. You didn’t question him as he turned off the engine, just waited, heart pounding.

“Your father’s not here, Y/N,” he muttered, low, his voice rough. “And neither are the rules.”

You swallowed. His words weren’t an invitation. They were a challenge.

Hongjoong didn’t need to say more. He didn’t need to explain how much he wanted you. The way his eyes softened when they landed on you, the raw intensity of it. You could see it—feel it. You could feel the pulse between you two, thick and suffocating.

“You know this isn’t what I’m supposed to do,” you whispered, barely a breath, as he leaned closer, his scent intoxicating. Your father’s warnings echoed louder now, his rules. His expectations. “You’re not... not what he wants for me.”

Hongjoong’s hand slid to your cheek, his touch rough but tender, his thumb brushing over the curve of your skin. “I don’t care about him,” he murmured, voice so close you could feel the heat of it against your ear. “I care about you.”

It was wrong. You both knew it. But when his lips finally found yours, the world outside—the rules, the pressure, everything your father had set up for you—disappeared.

You let him kiss you, hard and desperate. You let him pull you closer, until you were flush against him, until the only thing you could feel was the heat of his body and the fire in your chest.

For a moment, you forgot about everything. About your father. About the life you had to live. About the fact that Hongjoong was a nobody in your father’s eyes.

His hands slid down to your waist, gripping you like he was afraid you’d slip away from him. You didn’t protest. You couldn’t.

“You want me, don’t you?” he growled against your lips, and you could hear the rough edge in his voice.

You nodded, breathless, not able to find the words. But he didn’t need them. He knew. He always knew.

The kiss deepened, his hands sliding under your clothes, pulling you closer, each movement more urgent than the last. There was nothing slow or gentle about it. Everything felt like it was spiraling—everything except the two of you. Like the universe was crashing around you, and the only thing that mattered was the feeling of Hongjoong’s hands on you, his body against yours.

“Do you think your father would approve of this?” he whispered, lips trailing down your neck, voice dark and teasing.

“No,” you gasped, your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “But I don’t care.”

And with that, he took you in a kiss that was desperate, messy, full of everything you wanted to forget, and everything you knew you could never have.

---

The rest of the night passed in a blur of passion and heat, and when the world began to settle again, you were left in the aftermath—breathless, messy, but still hungry for more.

But as you lay there, Hongjoong beside you, you couldn’t shake the reality. You couldn’t shake the fact that all you had was tonight.

That’s all you would ever have with him.

---

The morning after was cold, almost painfully so. You lay there, the sheets tangled around you, the warmth of Hongjoong’s body still fading from your skin. The moment you opened your eyes, reality crashed down again.

Your father would call. The press would talk. Hongjoong would go back to being just a model. And you’d be stuck here, in your perfect little gilded cage, your heart aching for a man you could never truly have.

“I know you think this is all we’ll ever have,” Hongjoong murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He was staring at the ceiling, his face unreadable. “But I don’t want it to be. Not like this.”

You didn’t say anything. What was there to say? What could you say?

Hongjoong sighed, sitting up and running a hand through his disheveled hair. “You don’t have to choose between us, Y/N,” he said, though you knew it wasn’t true. Your father’s rules would never allow for that.

But you could see it—the longing in his eyes, the same one that mirrored yours.

“I have to go,” you whispered, barely able to choke the words out.

Hongjoong didn’t stop you. He just watched as you gathered your things, your heart heavy with the weight of everything you couldn’t have.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, a little too softly. “You always are.”

But neither of you could ignore the ache in your chest, the knowledge that this—he—was a fleeting thing.

And you were always just one more day away from losing him.

---

You barely slept, and when you did, the reality of what you were caught in kept you awake. You couldn’t shake Hongjoong from your mind. His touch. His kiss. His words. But it didn’t matter, did it? Your father’s rules were clear. They always had been.

The fashion show was tonight, and you knew Hongjoong would be there. He had to be. He was one of the stars now, climbing the ranks of the modeling world, a new sensation in the eyes of the industry. It was everything you were told to avoid. And yet, here you were—hoping for another chance, hoping that somehow, someway, things would be different tonight.

As you walked into the venue, your heels clicked against the polished floor, the noise cutting through the buzz of the crowd. The air was thick with anticipation, the scent of perfume mixing with the musk of fresh suits and expensive fabrics. You felt out of place. Your father’s presence loomed large, as it always did. His eyes scanned the room, watching everything, looking for anything that could hurt the family name. He’d never allow someone like Hongjoong to touch what he valued most.

You wished it was just the two of you. Somewhere far from the crowds. Where no one would judge. Where Hongjoong could be more than the model your father couldn’t stand.

But tonight wasn’t that night.

You spotted him just as the lights dimmed. Hongjoong was standing in the back, looking like he belonged in this world—like he was made for it. Confident, in a sharp, tailored suit that only enhanced his raw appeal. His eyes found you across the room, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. His gaze was heavy, magnetic, and you felt your heart race as you walked toward him.

The moment you reached him, your father was at your side, his cold gaze locking onto Hongjoong with an almost predatory precision. The weight of his stare made your blood run cold.

“Y/N,” your father’s voice sliced through the tension. “Is this who I think it is?”

Hongjoong stood tall, but the subtle shift in his posture told you that he was feeling the pressure. He extended his hand, a calm smile on his face, but the edge of defiance was clear in the way he looked at your father.

“Mr. Y/L/N,” Hongjoong said, his voice steady. “It’s a pleasure.”

Your father didn’t take his hand. He just stared at him, sizing him up. “Pleasure?” Your father’s lip curled in a sneer. “What are you really here for? To take advantage of my daughter?”

The words stung more than they should have. You flinched, but Hongjoong stood unbothered. His gaze remained locked with your father’s, unwavering, as if he were daring your father to challenge him.

“I’m not here for anything other than the show,” Hongjoong said coolly, his eyes flicking back to you. “But if you’re asking about your daughter, then yes. I’m here because of her.”

Your heart pounded, but you didn’t dare speak. You knew better.

Your father turned to you, his eyes filled with disbelief and anger. “Y/N, you better understand something. This is not someone you get involved with. This is not someone you bring into our family’s world.”

You swallowed, the ache in your chest growing tighter. But Hongjoong didn’t flinch. He stepped closer, his presence pulling you in like a magnet.

“You can’t control who I care about,” Hongjoong said, his voice dark with a hint of challenge. “Not anymore.”

Your father’s expression hardened. “You’d be wise to stay away from my daughter. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

You felt the pressure building in your chest, the weight of your father’s disapproval suffocating. You could feel Hongjoong’s hand on your arm, and for a split second, you wanted to let him pull you away from all this—away from the expectations, away from everything your father had built. But you couldn’t. You knew what would happen if you left with him.

“You think this is what’s best for her?” Hongjoong’s voice was low, intense. “You think I’m some kind of stepping stone for you to mold into whatever you want? I’m not your puppet.”

Your father’s lips tightened, but he didn’t speak. The room seemed to hold its breath, the quiet tension cutting through the air.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong said, his voice softer now, but still firm. “You don’t have to listen to him. You’re your own person. You get to decide who you want to be with.”

Your chest tightened. You wanted to scream at him, tell him you couldn’t—wouldn’t—break free. But the look in his eyes told you everything. He didn’t want to force you to choose, but he wanted you to see that there was another life waiting for you. Another life with him.

But you couldn’t have it. Not now. Not when everything you knew would fall apart.

The music blared, and the lights shifted, signaling the start of the show. Hongjoong gave you one last look, full of everything unsaid. He turned, his body already moving toward the runway. Your father’s gaze followed him like a hawk, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Hongjoong. Not yet.

For a moment, you thought about following him, leaving everything behind. But you knew what that would mean.

So, you stayed. Watching Hongjoong step into the spotlight, knowing that it would never be enough for either of you.

The show had ended, but the tension lingered in the air, crackling between you and Hongjoong. You couldn’t keep your eyes off him, couldn’t stop your pulse from quickening every time his gaze flickered toward you. The world had been waiting for this moment, for his moment. But now, you had him, and you weren’t about to let go.

Without thinking, you grabbed his hand, pulling him away from the crowd, through the velvet-lined halls of the backstage area. The dimly lit corridors were lined with all the finest names in fashion, glimmering from the racks and walls. But it wasn’t the brands that mattered now—it was the man beside you. The air between you both was thick with unspoken words, with the kind of hunger you couldn’t ignore any longer.

You reached a door at the end of the hall, a private room. The gold lettering on the door read Backstage. A quiet sanctuary away from all the noise, all the chaos. You pushed the door open, and Hongjoong followed, his steps faltering as he entered.

The room was a rich, luxurious mix of fabrics, bags, and designer shoes—just like everything else in this world. It all felt like a show, a perfect façade that hid the mess underneath. The room reflected everything you were caught in, everything you couldn’t escape: your father’s wealth, your desire for more, and the desperation in your heart.

Hongjoong’s eyes roamed the space, his jaw tightening as he took in the surroundings. For a moment, you saw a flicker of doubt in his gaze. The weight of the world seemed to crash on him in that instant, the reality of who you were and what you had weighing heavily in the air.

He swallowed hard, his voice a little lower than usual when he spoke. “This... this is all so much.”

You stepped closer, closing the distance between you with a single movement. “You don’t have to think about it, Hongjoong,” you whispered, your breath catching in your throat. “Just focus on me. Just focus on this.”

His eyes met yours, and you saw the struggle there, the hesitation that made him falter. But you weren’t giving him a choice anymore. Your hand reached up, brushing against his jaw, feeling the sharpness of his cheekbones under your fingertips. His breath hitched, and you could feel his resolve start to slip.

“I’m not going to fall in love with you,” you said softly, your lips barely a whisper against his ear. “You can’t stay with me. All you’re gonna have is tonight.” The words felt heavier than you intended, but you needed him to know the truth. To remind him of the rules you both lived by.

Hongjoong closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if he were trying to push the world away. You could see it in the tension of his shoulders, in the way he clenched his fists at his sides. But then, he reached for you, his hands firm on your waist as he pulled you into him, pinning you against the nearest wall. The coldness of the room didn’t matter anymore—only the heat between you both.

“Don’t say that,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck as he kissed you softly, his voice laced with frustration. “I don’t care about the rules, Y/N. I’m here. I’m right here.”

His lips trailed down to your collarbone, his breath coming out in shallow bursts as he fought against his own resolve. He was fighting it, fighting the feelings that were growing stronger by the second, but it didn’t matter now. He couldn’t pull away.

You tilted your head back, giving him more access, feeling the urgency building between you.

“I don’t care,” Hongjoong growled, his grip on you tightening as he kissed you again, harder this time. “I don’t care if I can’t stay. I just need tonight. I need you.”

Your heart raced, your body burning with desire, and you couldn’t stop yourself. You kissed him back, feverishly, pulling him closer, until it was almost suffocating. Everything outside of this room—the rules, the consequences—faded away. There was only him, only you, and the desperate need to feel each other.

But even as your hands tangled in his hair, as your lips moved in sync, you both knew the truth: One day. That was all you would ever have.

You let the thought slip away as his hands moved over your body, pulling at your dress, his lips tracing down your throat, igniting every inch of your skin with fire.

"One day," he whispered against your lips, the words slipping out between heated breaths. “Then I’ll make it worth it.”

You couldn’t help but smile, even if the ache in your chest told you that you were both playing a dangerous game. "One day," you repeated, your voice trembling as you let him take you further into the chaos.

And tonight, one day was all you had.

[daddydoddsjr]

Hi! I love your work and was wondering if you could do a Rafael x reader where she’s secretly learning Spanish, but Rafael thinks she’s possibly cheating on him because she’s being so secretive and won’t let him look at her phone or something :)

Pairings || Rafael Barba x Female!Reader

Contents/Warnings || Cheating accusations, light angst, fluff ending

Authors Note || i’m glad you love my work <3 also sorry to anyone who speaks spanish if the phrases aren’t correct! i don’t know it well so.. translated :’) let me know if anything’s wrong and i’ll fix it!

You had downloaded every good language app you could find in the past few months. You always loved with Rafael spoke Spanish to you, and you had picked up on some phrases and words, but you were growing sad that you couldn’t have an actual conversation with him in anything but English. After having seen several videos of people learning their partners native languages and then surprising them by suddenly speaking it to them, you decided to do the same.

Your plan was to surprise Rafael on your anniversary by speaking Spanish as well as you could to him, along with a few other gifts you got him. Normally you never had an issue is Rafael wanted to use your phone for any reason, he even knew your password and you know his, but you began to keep your phone from him. Of course, he began to pick up on this.

He noticed that you were being secretive— not letting him touch your phone anymore without telling him why, changing your password, and not letting him look at your screen as often anymore. Rafael was dying a bit at this. He loved you, truly, and had the upmost respect and trust in you, but he was growing suspicious of you cheating on him. He couldn’t come up with any other plausible explanation as to why you began to be so secretive. He didn’t want to think that you were doing this, but he didn’t know what else it could be.

He found himself sitting on his bed one night, feeling miserable as he waited for you to come to his apartment so he could finally bring up his suspicions. He waited impatiently, replaying what he wanted to say in his head when he finally heard the familiar sound of you opening his door with the spare key he had given you. You close the door and kicked off your shoes before making your way around to find him. You walk into his bedroom, noticing the tired look on his face, “Raf? What’s wrong?”

Rafael hesitated before answering, “I… need to talk to you about something.”

You cautiously sat beside him, now even more worried, “Sure, what’s going on?”

He met your eyes, pushing the words out before he could back down, “You’ve been very secretive lately, mostly about your phone. You changed your password and won’t even let me touch it anymore when we see each other. I just need to know why. Are you cheating on me? Is there something I’m doing wrong?”

You looked, and felt, as if he had slapped you in the face. You didn’t say anything for a moment before slowly sliding your phone out of your pocket, “No, I’m not cheating on you…”

He watched as you unlocked your phone, slowly handing it to you. He takes it, looking at your main home screen until he saw a folder with every language app possible in it; Natulang, Duolingo, Babbel, Pimsleur, and many more. He was confused, staring at your phone, “I don’t understand,” he finally says, “You’re being secretive over language apps?”

You sighed, taking your phone back, “I’m learning Spanish, para sorprenderte.” {to surprise you}

Rafael blinked, the use of Spanish briefly stunning him. You noticed the look on his face and continued, “I just… started to get sick of not always understanding you when you speak it. I was going to wait until out anniversary to tell you, so I was hiding my phone to make sure you didn’t figure it out on accident,” you frown, fidgeting with your phone. “If you want to, you can check it for dating apps or texts… but you won’t find anything like that, I promise.”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head, “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I accused you of that, I just couldn’t think of anything else that you would become so secretive because of. Te amo y confío en ti.” {I love you and I trust you}

You crack a small smile, piecing together what he had said, “Yo también te amo?” {I love you too} You say awkwardly, not knowing if you said it correctly. Rafael nods, his hand going to the back of your head as he pressed his lips to your forehead.

“That was great,” he says, his hand still on the back of your head as he looks you in the eye again, “I’m so happy that you’re learning, it’s a great anniversary gift.”

“A great spoiled anniversary gift,” you sigh dramatically, making him laugh a bit before responding with, “Guess my gift has to top you learning an entire language, huh?”

“Es mejor,” you smile. {it better}

[orphyd]

🧍🏾‍♀️

[artuurle]

(AU)

What if you died and something divine loved you so much it couldn't cope with that fact? What if they tried bringing you back but the result was wrong?

More doodles + rambles below:

Now What if what came back was just off. Looks at the divine without the memories that went back decades. It looks, behaves and works in a way just off enough in a way to make the god unable to look at it. it's not you. it's not. it can't be.

.... but what if what got pulled back was still you, but its- YOU'RE wrong and broken in ways you cant understand anymore.

The apocalypse draws closer and closer and you don't know why every day that passes you seem to be falling more and more apart too. The god is gone. You are alone.

....Anyway yeah i fucked up a perfectly normal Lovestory Au. i gave it anxiety is what i did. sorry for horrid typing in 2nd person trying to explain stuff im bad at explaining <3 i draw, not write for a reason lol.