#i was writing 5k+ words nearly every day
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bunnis-monsters · 10 months ago
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I hope I'm not too late! For the 5K event (congratulations btw!!! You deserve all of them ^^), could my request be of a merman pod finding reader and deciding she needs to be their mate/breeding partner? I guess it'd be kind of a similar situation with the cow/bull hybrids?? I'm not sure how it'd go, but It can be as sfw or nsfw as you want (I deeply apologize if this exceeds 1k words. Of course you don't have to write this if you don't want to). Thank you in advance! ^^
A/N: my requests and commissions are closed for the foreseeable future, but my commission wait list is open! Consider reading my commission info and helping me out! Slots are limited, so get on the waitlist while you still can~
Warning: dubcon, breeding, virginity loss
It had been a normal day out on the water for you, swimming and splashing around in a small cove near your home.
Unfortunately(or maybe fortunately) for you, it was the spot where a pod of mermen spent their breeding season, relaxing and eating there before going out to try and find a suitable mate.
As you got ready to get out and go grab a snack from your cooler, you felt someone’s eyes on you…
When you turned to look, a head quickly dipped back under the water, and you felt your blood run cold when you spotted several dark shapes swimming in your direction.
Of course you immediately swam for the shore, afraid of it being a shark or some underwater predator. You were alone out there, and if you were eaten no one would ever even know.
Before you could stand to start wading through the now waist deep water, something grabbed your ankle, pulling you under.
You cursed yourself for not bringing your goggles, unable to open your eyes under the stinging, salty sea water.
You prepared for some kind of attack, hoping it wouldn’t be too painful… but nothing happened. Your body was gently lifted out of the water, and you felt something cool and smooth rubbing against your cheek… and your belly… and pretty much every part of your skin.
When you opened your eyes, you were surprised to see that you were surrounded by strange creatures, half human and half fish. They all were nuzzling their cheeks unto your flesh, some giving you soft licks as if inspecting you.
After thoroughly looking over you, they all began purring and trilling, some cooing as they set you on your feet. Getting a better look at them, you realized they were all handsome, and were all smiling as they surrounded you.
“A female in our cove? What luck!”
You were surprised when one of the creatures spoke, even more surprised when another responded with soft trills and clicks.
“Yes, she is quite warm… and so soft!”
The feeling of cool scales rubbing against your thigh made you yelp. One of their tails was curling around you, keeping you close and still.
“H-hey! What do you think you’re doing!?”
They all flinched when you raised your voice, their fins perking up. Some looked at you curiously, while some seemed a bit annoyed or afraid.
“Mmm? We’re preparing to breed with you. It’s not often a female is so close to our cove while it’s mating season.”
You nearly fainted, this was all too much. First you were having to accept the fact that mermen were real, which was hard enough by itself.
Now, these mermen that you just learned actually existed wanted to breed with you.
Another merman pressed against your back, letting out a soft coo as something sticky and hard slipped and rubbed between your thighs.
There was one in front of you as your thighs were fucked from behind. He examined your bathing suit, talking his head and pulling at the fabric curiously.
“Something to cover your mating slit? Perhaps human females are more cunning than I thought…”
He seemed to view the fabric as a separate layer of skin, his weighed fingers moving to trace over your clothed pussy.
The merman’s eyes went wide, and his finge red pressed against your clothed hole. “Warm… so warm…”
The feeling of his cool, webbed fingers moving over your warm pussy made you shiver and buck your hips uncontrollably. This made the merman purr in delight.
“Y-you can remove it… it’s clothing,” you said, panting softly. Honestly, it had been so long since you’ve really pleasured yourself, and you desperately wanted to get fucked stupid.
Your bathing suit was unceremoniously ripped off, and the pod gathered around you.
There were whines and hisses, each merman fighting over who got to breed you first.
It was finally settled that they would go from smallest to largest. A merman, a bit younger than the rest approached you shyly. He was excited, this would be his first time breeding!
He chirped at you, giving you puppy dog eyes as his cock bobbed up and down in need. It seemed this one couldn’t speak, possibly being new to human speech.
“Go on, just inhale her scent and your instincts will take over,” one of the merman said, encouraging the other as he placed a hand on your thigh.
His face buried itself in his neck, and as soon as he inhaled your scent his body stiffened and pressed against you.
The feeling of his cock struggling to find your hole, rubbing against you desperately made your heart throb. This merman was too cute!
You loved your hand down, the man letting out a nervous yet aroused trill when you helped to guide his cock to your entrance.
“There you go, baby… r-right there…”
He nuzzled his cheek against yours, the flesh slightly rough against your soft skin.
The second he sunk his cock into your cunt, he let out a groan, unable to stop his hips from rutting into you roughly.
You but your lip, trying not to make too much noise. The other merman moved in closer to watch, and they all seemed to communicate with the one mating with you.
“Warm? You said she’s warm there?”
“Oh… cum already, I want a turn!”
The first merman came, relaxing against you as your pussy was filled with his cum. The next was eager to get a feeling of your pussy, pushing the other out of the way before pushing in.
“Nngh… w-warm…” he gasped out, his body hands trembling as they grasped your plump hips.
None of them were used to fucking into something so soft and warm, mermaid were usually cold and rough… but god you were the complete opposite.
It was a breeding frenzy after that, each desperate to get their turn fucking that fat, warm pussy of yours. The sound of wet squelching and shameful moans and cries echoing through the cove.
After each had a turn, they returned you to the shore, leaving you with a freshly caught fish before they left to go hunt.
“We’ll be back by nightfall, mate!”
“Don’t enter the water until we’re home! We don’t want our scents attracting other competing males!”
They waved to you as they swam away… and you were looking forward the summer with your new pod of mates.
part 2? might make a little series based off this concept where you meet each merman and get to know them!
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NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @buckoothecow @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila
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kawoala · 5 months ago
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AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES . . . !? suna rintarou ; 10.
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╰ ⨳ word count ; .5k (543)
╰ ⨳ content warning ; THE END 、profanity 、admission of feelings FINALLY 、apologies.
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the inevitable knock comes at around midnight. you’re laying in bed, scrolling on instagram, eyes fluttering shut every so often from the tiredness running through your body.
“y/n?”
his voice is muffled through the door, but unmistakable. you don’t respond at first. partly because you don’t want to talk to him, but partly because you’re too tired to speak. you haven’t spoken to him since the day he went to lunch with lexi. it’s ridiculous, you know, but you feel like a fool.
you’re just his roommate, you have to remind yourself.
“I know you’re awake,” he continues. even through the door, you can tell he’s tired too. you sit up and purse your lips. “i saw you were active on instagram.”
you glance down at your phone and glare at it before exiting out of the app and shutting it off.
“listen, i just—” he cuts himself off with a sigh. “i just wanted to say… i’m sorry.”
you blink at the door a couple times. what does he have to be sorry about? you’re the one who’s been ignoring him for the past week. now, you stand and quietly walk over to the door.
“and… and i’ve come to some realizations. about you and about myself, too.” there’s a thud and you think he’s let his head drop against the door. “i talked to ‘mori and tatsuki and they think— they think i like you.”
you hold your breath.
“and i think i like you. wait, uh, i mean i know i like you. god, i’m so bad at this. can you open the door?” there’s silence. “oh, shit. what if you’re asleep?”
you almost let out a laugh at the complete and utter panic in his voice. but you don’t. instead, you smooth out your oversized t-shirt and open the door.
suna tumbles forward, eyes a little wide as he nearly knocks you over. “shit, sorry.” he clears his throat and stands up straight. you stare at each other. “you’re awake.”
“um, yeah.” you nod and take a step back. subtly, you tuck a strand behind your ear and look to the ground. the silence resumes.
“this is a lot more difficult to do face-to-face,” suna admits quietly.
you laugh at that. “i’m, um, flattered.”
“but.”
“but?” you repeat, looking up. “oh, there is no but. i, um, yeah. i like you too. wow, i sound like a middle schooler. yeah, no, i like you a lot, actually. i just didn’t tell you because…”
“lexi?” he asks, tilting his head. “yeah, that makes sense. i’m sorry. i was…” he sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “i was stupid and hopeful and… stupid. runa already tore into me about that.”
you laugh at that. “she’s very, um, protective.”
and then the silence is back. except this time is different. rather than awkward and heavy, it’s comfortable. he’s smiling down at you and you’re trying to keep the blush off your face. 
“so,” he says.
“so.”
“do you wanna go on a date?”
you blink at him again. “a date? um, yeah, sure, okay. sounds good.”
“okay.” he smiles. god, that smile. you’d probably do anything for him if he smiled at you like that when asking.
“okay,” you whisper.
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╰ ⨳ taglist ; @miiyas , @heartmaddie , @cherrysurf , @pookalicious-hq , @grassbutneo
@akaashislovee , @cvddlebug , @pardoffel , @smiithys , @sweetlyvibe
@iluv-ace , @standcom , @anqelkoz , @dndjxkskcn , @kissingkzuha
@asrichin , @sturnprincess , @sunghoonsgfreal , @socoolsocoolsocool , @tiramizuloz
@nekozaki , @renardiererin , @bae-ashlynn , @4rmins , @kodzu-ken
@soobinsbreadscrumbs , @phoenix-eclipses , @writing-for-the-hell-of-it , @vertejay , @sharkissm
@kukkurookkoo , @corvid007 , @fushiguruuzzzz
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w1w2 · 25 days ago
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Let Me In
Irene x Fem!Reader
Word Count: ca. 5k
Synopsis: Behind the spotlight and polished smiles, one of Red Velvet’s members begins to struggle under the weight of unseen pressure. In the quiet of their shared space, love becomes both a question and an answer.
English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.
♡ Enjoy! ♡
The apartment was quiet when they walked in, just the soft hum of the refrigerator, the faint tick of the wall clock, and the low click of the door shutting behind them. No lights turned on, no music, no casual joke thrown over a shoulder.
A stillness settled over the space like a heavy blanket, thick and unmoving.
Y/N didn’t say a word.
She moved on autopilot, bag sliding off her shoulder with a dull thud against the wall, her sneakers kicked off carelessly, one landing sideways, the other left crooked and half blocking the hallway. Her posture screamed exhaustion, but not the kind that sleep could fix, her shoulders drooped like something invisible was weighing her down.
She paused for a moment in place, hands hanging uselessly by her sides, eyes staring somewhere vague, somewhere far.
Then came the words, low and distant. 
“I’m gonna shower.” No inflection, no emotion. Just words tossed out like an afterthought.
She didn’t wait for a response, she didn’t look at Irene. She turned and walked down the hallway, towel already pulled from the door hook, bare feet ghosting over the wooden floor.
Normally, she’d linger. Say something dumb just to get a smile. Pull Irene’s hand, tease her, pretend she forgot something just so Irene would follow. On bad days, she’d still do the bare minimum, flop on the couch, fake a dramatic sigh, and wait for Irene to press a kiss to her temple.
But Tonight? Nothing, not even a glance back.
Irene didn’t move, she stood frozen in the entryway, fingers curled loosely around the strap of her purse, watching the place where Y/N had just been. The silence stretched, long and cold.
She tried to write it off “Long day, she’s tired, maybe she’s just overwhelmed.” But none of those excuses landed.They didn’t sit right.
Her gut twisted, a quiet ache starting to bloom in the space between her ribs. Not panic, no, not yet. Just that first drop in the stomach, the one that comes when someone you love starts closing a door you didn’t even know was there.
Something was wrong, and Irene could feel it in her bones.
The signs had been showing all day, subtle but steady, if you weren’t paying attention, you’d miss them. But Irene had been paying attention.
At dinner, Y/N sat wedged between Wendy and Joy, her plate nearly untouched. She picked at her food, nudging rice around with her chopsticks like it was part of some quiet ritual. Three bites, maybe four, a small piece of meat, barely chewed before she swallowed and reached for her water like it was something bitter. She smiled when Joy teased her, laughed when Seulgi dropped her chopsticks and muttered a curse under her breath. But it didn’t reach her eyes, her eyes were tired.
Irene watched it all from across the table, close enough to notice, far enough that Y/N probably thought she wouldn’t.
When the others got distracted in conversation, Irene stayed watching. Her gaze landed on Y/N’s fingers, how they clenched around her napkin every time her phone buzzed on the table. She never picked it up right away, stared at the screen for a second, shoulders tight, jaw set.
Eventually, she gave in. One swipe to check the lock screen, one flash of something in her expression, Irene didn’t know what to call it. 
Pain? Disappointment? Something sharp. Too sharp for someone so soft.
Then the screen went black. The phone slipped back into her bag like it had burned her, and the mask came right back on.
Y/N made another effort at a smile when Wendy asked her a question, answered with that gentle lilt in her voice that always made people lean in. But her fingers stayed clenched in her lap the rest of the meal. She even laughed again when Joy pulled out some weird inside joke, but Irene could see the strain behind it. That split second where her smile faltered, just long enough to be real.
It was muscle memory at this point, pretending everything was fine, but Irene knew better.
Y/N was slipping.
And now, hours later, Irene could still feel the echo of that dinner, the weight of it sitting with her like a bruise that hadn’t quite faded.
Irene moved toward their bedroom, dropping her purse on the dresser with a soft thump before sinking onto the edge of the bed. She didn’t turn on the main light, just clicked on the small lamp by her side of the bed. A warm glow pooled softly across the room, barely chasing the shadows off the walls.
She pulled her knees up and folded her arms around them, chin resting lightly on top. Her eyes stayed fixed on the bathroom door across the hall, slightly ajar, a faint mist curling out around the frame.
The water ran steady in the background.
She waited.
It wasn’t impatience, it was a quiet kind of hoping. Maybe Y/N would come out and say something, maybe she’d crawl into bed and let herself be held. Maybe she’d fold into Irene the way she always did when her walls cracked just enough.
But that didn’t happen.
Eventually, the water shut off. A pause. Then the soft rhythm of movement, towel rustling, the creak of the cabinet, the tap of skincare bottles being shuffled around.
A few minutes later, the door eased open with a click. Y/N padded into the bedroom, wrapped in her oversized towel, damp hair clinging to her neck. She didn’t look at Irene, just moved toward the closet, pulled out a hoodie, and tugged it over her head before slipping into a pair of shorts.
Her silence stretched the whole time, thick enough to chew on.
Irene watched her carefully, picking up on every shift, the way she avoided eye contact, the slight tremble in her fingers as she brushed her hair back, how she tugged the hoodie sleeves over her hands like she wanted to disappear inside them.
“You’ve been quiet today,” Irene said softly, finally breaking the silence.
Y/N froze for a heartbeat, not enough to be obvious, but just long enough for Irene to notice. Her back remained turned, her movements paused mid motion as if considering how much to say.
Then she spoke, casual and even, too practiced to be real. “Just tired.”
Irene let the words sit in the air for a moment before answering, her voice still soft but edged with something firmer, something that quietly refused to be brushed off. “You sure?”
Y/N’s hands stilled again, her fingers mid-way through gathering her damp hair into a loose bun. She didn’t look back. Didn’t meet Irene’s eyes.
“Yeah, Joohyun. I’m fine.”
And that name. Joohyun. landed like a stone in Irene’s chest. Not Hyun, not babe, not even unnie that Y/N used when she wanted to be spoiled.
Just Joohyun. 
Flat. Formal. Careful.
The kind of name someone used when they were pulling away, even if they were trying not to show it.
Irene didn’t respond right away. She just watched Y/N quietly retreat to the far side of the bed, lifting the covers, slipping under them without a word.
The days started to blur.
Wake up, schedule, perform, smile, collapse, repeat.
It wasn’t anything unusual on the surface, Red Velvet had been through busier times, but something in the rhythm had changed, and Irene could feel it like a draft sneaking through a cracked window. Not loud, not obvious. Just steady, cold.
Y/N wasn’t just tired anymore. She was somewhere else entirely.
She started coming home later than usual, ten minutes at first, then thirty, then over an hour. She never said where she’d been, and Irene didn’t always ask. Not because she didn’t care, but because she could already guess the answer.
Irene would be waiting in the living room most nights, curled up on the couch with the TV on low, the glow flickering across her face. Sometimes she’d make tea, just in case Y/N wanted some. Sometimes she’d scroll through her phone, pretending not to be watching the door.
And then Y/N would walk in.
“Sorry, lost track of time,” she’d mutter, tossing her keys into the bowl by the door like she hadn’t been avoiding the apartment for hours.
She didn’t sit beside Irene, didn’t steal a sip of her tea, didn’t collapse into her lap like she always used to after long days.
No hug, no kiss, no “I missed you.” She’d just head straight to the bedroom, shoulders stiff, head down.
The door never slammed, never locked. Just closed, quietly. That almost made it worse. It wasn’t anger, it wasn’t even annoyance. It was distance wrapped in politeness, like she didn’t want to bother Irene with whatever she was carrying.
It was the kind of closed door that said she needed space.
And Irene? She heard it.
She sat there most nights in that silence, trying not to feel like a stranger in her own home. Trying not to take it personally, trying to understand without overstepping. But the ache in her chest was starting to feel permanent.
Irene tried.
She didn’t storm the walls, she didn’t pry. She just showed up, in small, steady ways. She’d bring Y/N tea before bed. Offer to run her a bath. Ask if she wanted to watch something, go for a walk, eat out somewhere lowkey.
Sometimes Y/N would agree. But lately, more often than not, it was just a shake of the head, a quiet smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and another “Maybe next time.”
So Irene started asking differently, trying to find cracks in the silence without pushing too hard.
“Are you okay?” she asked one night, her voice casual but weighted with quiet concern.
“Yeah,” Y/N replied without missing a beat, her tone light, practiced, a reflex more than a response.
Another day, Irene tried again, softer this time. “Do you want to talk? Just us?”
“I’m fine, really,” Y/N said, forcing a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
They weren’t harsh answers. If anything, they were soft, too soft. Like Y/N was trying to wrap her detachment in kindness so it wouldn’t hurt as much, like she was trying to protect Irene from her own unraveling.
But the thing about loving someone is, you know when they’re not okay, even if they say they are with the sweetest voice they can manage.
And Y/N’s voice was sweet, but it was full of cracks.
She stopped making eye contact when Irene asked those questions. She started walking past her with a hand on her arm or a kiss on the cheek, brief, like punctuation, not affection. She’d say she was tired, that she had a headache. Say she needed a few minutes alone, and those minutes always turned into hours.
“I’m just tired.” “Don’t worry about it.” “I can handle it.”
At first, Irene let it slide. Maybe she really was tired, maybe a little space would help.
But it kept happening, and each time Y/N said those things, Irene heard the real meaning behind them a little more clearly.
“I’m just tired.” mean “I don’t have the energy to talk about what’s hurting.” 
“Don’t worry about it.” was the synonym of “You shouldn’t have to carry this too.”
Irene never blamed her. She just wanted to wrap her in her arms, tell her she didn’t have to fight invisible battles with her fists clenched in the dark. But every time she got close, Y/N would gently pull away, never rude, never cold, just distant. Careful, too careful.
And Irene didn’t know how to break through that without shattering something. So she stayed quiet. 
For now.
It was a Thursday night, and the apartment felt colder than usual.
Y/N had gone to bed early again, another quiet “I think I’ll just lie down” said halfway through Irene asking if she wanted to order takeout. She hadn’t even touched the dinner Irene made, only pushed the rice around and mumbled something about a headache.
Now the bedroom door was closed, not slammed, just closed.
Irene sat alone on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, the untouched food still on the coffee table in front of her. Some drama played quietly on the TV, but she wasn’t watching, not really. She kept checking the hallway like Y/N might change her mind, come back out, maybe curl up beside her and say what was really going on. But the silence stayed.
Her phone buzzed once on the armrest.
Then again.
Irene glanced down. A couple of notifications, nothing urgent, but one of them had her name. A tagged post. A fan account. Something about Red Velvet’s most recent appearance.
She didn’t usually check those things this late, but her thumb moved on its own. Curious Or maybe just hoping for something to make the silence less heavy.
She tapped in, and wished she hadn’t.
Y/N was trending, but not in celebration, not in the fun, “queen of duality” kind of way.
The comments hit like a slap.
“She’s not Red Velvet material. SM should’ve never added her.”
“She doesn’t fit. It’s like she’s from a different group.”
“Can someone tell her she’s not the main character?”
“Why does she talk so much? Always trying to be the center.”
Irene scrolled, each word heavier than the last. Her throat tightened, her stomach twisted.
She put the phone down slowly, like it might shatter if she moved too fast. It slipped from her fingers and landed beside her on the couch with a dull, final thud.
The TV played on, but she couldn’t hear it anymore. Just noise, just static behind the sound of her own heartbeat, thudding harder now in her chest, in her throat. Irene stared at the screen, the faint reflection of her own face staring back at her, soft in the glow, but tired. Her eyes looked hollow, jaw clenched, shoulders tense in a way they hadn’t been even during the most brutal training days.
She blinked slowly, once, twice.
There was no anger in her, no. She wasn’t mad at Y/N, not even a little. But she was hurting, because she saw it now. All of it.
The closed doors, the rushed excuses, the fake smiles, the way Y/N had started using her real name like a wall between them. The way she said “I’m fine” like it was a line she’d rehearsed, not a truth she believed.
And all the while, she'd been breaking, quietly. 
Alone.
The girl Irene loved more than anything was crumbling right behind a door just a few steps away and pretending she wasn’t.
That was what broke Irene’s heart the most. Not the comments, not the silence. But the fact that Y/N thought she had to go through it alone. That she couldn’t come undone in front of her, that she didn’t feel safe leaning into her anymore.
Irene inhaled, shaky and shallow. This couldn’t keep going like this, something had to give. She wasn’t going to wait any longer.
The hallway felt longer than usual as Irene made her way down it, every step sinking with the weight in her chest. It wasn’t just the dim lighting or the late hour, it was the stillness. The kind that made your ears ring, the kind that followed hurt left unspoken.
She stopped in front of their bedroom door and rested her hand on the knob. It wasn’t locked, it never was. But something about turning it felt like asking permission.
The soft glow from the bedside lamp spilled out beneath the door, warm and golden, the kind of light meant to be comforting. But through the silence, it only felt… sad. Like a light left on for someone who forgot how to come home.
She exhaled slowly.
Then she turned the handle, the door opened without a sound, and the room greeted her with more silence.
Y/N was on the bed, facing the wall. Blankets curled around her. One arm tucked beneath her head, the other draped over the edge of the bed. Her back rose and fell in slow, measured breaths, too slow, too steady.
Irene’s heart ached.
She knew what pretend sleep looked like, knew the difference between the softness of peace and the stillness of someone just trying to disappear.
Irene stepped inside, her footsteps quiet against the floorboards. She closed the door gently behind her with a soft click, sealing the silence in with them. Then she moved toward the bed, sitting down on the edge with care, leaving enough space so it wouldn’t feel like pressure.
Her eyes stayed fixed on Y/N’s back. The curve of her spine beneath the hoodie, the way her fingers were curled into the blanket like she needed something to hold onto.
Irene didn’t speak right away. She just sat there, close enough to reach her, but far enough to let her decide. She folded her hands in her lap and stared down at them, thumbs absently tracing the edge of her sleeve. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears, and her thoughts were louder.
This wasn’t a moment to fill with words, not yet.
So she let the silence settle between them, not to create distance, but to offer something that had been missing. A quiet, open space where Y/N could choose to let her in.
The quiet had stretched long enough that it began to hum in Irene’s ears, vibrating with everything that hadn’t been said. The weight of it pressed against her ribs, made the air feel thinner.
She glanced at Y/N’s back again, took in the way her shoulder blades sat high and stiff, how her knuckles had turned pale from gripping the edge of the blanket too tightly. It wasn’t rest, it was restraint. The kind that comes when you're trying so hard not to break.
Irene shifted slightly, folding one leg beneath her on the bed. Her voice, when it came, was soft but steady.
“You don’t have to talk,” she said, barely louder than a whisper. “But I’m not going anywhere.”
Still, Y/N didn’t move. Her body didn’t tense or relax. It just stayed, like she was trying to disappear into the mattress, like staying still was her last form of defense.
But Irene saw the truth anyway. She always had.
Her eyes dropped to Y/N’s hands again, clenched into the bedding like it was anchoring her in place. Like if she let go, the dam would break.
Irene swallowed.
“I know you think you have to be strong all the time,” she said, slower this time. Her voice dipped into something deeper.
“But not with me, not here.”
There was a beat. A hitch in Y/N’s breathing, then a soft, bitter exhale.
Irene barely caught the words when they came.
“I said I’m fine, Joohyun.”
And there it was. Not the words themselves, but how she said them, tired, guarded, laced with something between guilt and grief. As if admitting anything else would make her weak. As if “fine” was a wall that could hold everything together.
That name again.
No sweetness, no softness. Just the distance tucked inside her full name, like a subtle push meant to keep Irene at arm’s length. It wasn’t anger, it wasn’t cruelty. But it was careful. And that hurt in a way Irene couldn’t describe, because it wasn’t rejection, it was fear disguised as strength.
She could’ve pulled back, could’ve let it go.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she leaned in, just slightly. Her voice didn’t rise, it didn’t sharpen, it trembled with love, with worry, with the ache of watching someone you adore fall apart piece by piece.
“Then why do you look like the world’s crushing you?”
The words settled into the room like dust, and for a moment, neither of them breathed.
Y/N didn’t answer, but something shifted.
Her shoulders drew in tighter, her spine curling inward like she was trying to fold into herself. Her fingers had loosened from the blanket, just barely, but her hands now lay still, open, like she’d run out of strength to hold on.
The silence between them was no longer gentle. It was suffocating. And Irene knew, this wasn’t the time for more space, this wasn’t something Y/N could carry alone, no matter how badly she wanted to.
Irene shifted slowly, deliberately, like she was moving through water. She leaned forward, closing the distance between them inch by inch until her chest was just barely brushing against Y/N’s back.
And then, quietly, gently, she wrapped her arms around her.
Not tight, not urgent. Just there.
Her hands slid beneath Y/N’s arms and found her waist, settling like they belonged there. Her head tucked into the curve between Y/N’s shoulder blades, the scent of her shampoo still clinging to her damp hair. Irene breathed her in like it was the only thing grounding her.
She fit there, perfectly, like she'd done it a thousand times. Like her body knew this shape before her mind did.
Y/N’s breath hitched the second Irene touched her. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but Irene felt it. The subtle shift, the crack forming in the stillness. The tension in Y/N’s spine wasn’t gone, but it wavered. Her back rose unevenly beneath Irene’s cheek, like she was trying to keep control and losing that grip with every second Irene held her.
Her voice came out low, nearly a whisper, full of quiet truth.
“I see you, Y/N.”
She closed her eyes, resting her forehead lightly against the soft cotton of Y/N’s hoodie.
“Even when you try to hide.”
Her arms tightened, not enough to suffocate, just enough to hold. To remind her she wasn’t alone. Her fingers curled gently into the fabric, grounding herself in the warmth of Y/N’s body.
“I’m right here,” Irene whispered. “Please, talk to me.”
At first, it was stillness.
One breath, then another.
Irene thought for a moment she might’ve asked too much. Pushed too far, but then she felt it, so faint it could’ve been imagined.
A tremble.
Y/N inhaled sharply, and her breath collapsed mid way through like a wave breaking against rock. She exhaled with a sound that wasn’t quite a sob, not yet, but it was close, too close.
The sound tore out of her, a single, shattered breath that cracked open into a sob she couldn’t contain. Her body jolted in Irene’s arms, shoulders shaking violently as the dam finally gave way. Her fingers scrambled for something to hold onto before she turned around in a blur of movement, burying herself in Irene without a word.
There was no hesitation.
Her arms wrapped around Irene tight, almost crushing, like she needed to be held together by force. Like she didn’t trust herself to stay in one piece unless Irene was holding her there. Her face pressed into the crook of Irene’s neck, hot tears seeping into her skin. Her breath came in ragged sobs, one after another, pouring out everything she’d been trying to swallow for days.
“I just,” she gasped, voice broken and small, “I didn’t want to be a burden.”
Irene didn’t flinch, didn’t speak right away. She just held her, anchored her. One hand cradled the back of Y/N’s head, fingers threading gently through her hair. The other rubbed slow circles into her back, steady, rhythmic, grounding. Her own eyes stung, but she blinked them clear. Y/N needed her strong right now. Present.
“You’re not,” she whispered, brushing her lips against her temple. 
“You never are.”She tightened her arms just slightly. “Not to me.”
The sobs faded slowly, like a storm rolling off into the distance. Y/N’s breathing was still uneven, but steadier now, less like she was falling apart, more like she was starting to come back to herself.
They lay curled into each other under the blanket, bodies tangled naturally, as if the only way either of them could sleep was like this.
Irene stayed close, never letting go. One hand rubbed slow, gentle circles on Y/N’s back, her thumb brushing along the fabric of her hoodie, up and down in a rhythm that matched her heartbeat. The other was laced with Y/N’s fingers, their hands nestled between them.
When Irene finally spoke, her voice was a whisper, like something sacred. 
“Let them talk.”
Y/N blinked against her shoulder, eyes red and heavy.
“They don’t know you,” Irene said. “They don’t get to define you.”
She leaned in, pressed a kiss to Y/N’s forehead, then the bridge of her nose, then her cheek, each one slow, unhurried. Each one saying I love you, I’ve got you, I’m here.
“You’re mine,” she murmured into her skin. “You’re ours, you’re more than enough.”
Y/N let out a shaky laugh, the sound small but real. “You’re kinda cheesy, unnie.”
Irene grinned against her cheek. “You love it.”
“I do,” Y/N admitted, voice still a little hoarse. “A lot.”
They shifted slightly, adjusting into an even tighter hold. Y/N’s head tucked beneath Irene’s chin now, her hand curled loosely at Irene’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall. The safety of it.
“You don’t have to pretend for me,” Irene whispered, words soft as breath. “Ever. Not even a little.”
Y/N didn’t answer, but the way she pressed her face closer said enough. She breathed in deep and let it go, like she hadn’t been able to do that in days.
Then Irene added, “And if I ever catch you reading those comments again, I’m throwing your phone in the toilet.”
Y/N let out a tired, half-snorted laugh. “You wouldn’t.”
“I absolutely would, with a smile.”
Y/N smiled back, eyes still wet, but finally peaceful. “You’d cry after.”
“Okay, maybe a little,” Irene muttered, brushing her thumb under Y/N’s eye. “But the point stands.”
They shared a few more soft kisses, no urgency, no need. A kiss to Y/N’s forehead, one to the tip of her nose, a lingering one to her lips that didn’t ask for anything but closeness.
Eventually, Y/N’s breathing slowed even more, the tension finally ebbing out of her limbs. She blinked a few times, heavier with each one, until her eyes fluttered shut for good. Her hand stayed in Irene’s. And for the first time in days, she looked like she might sleep without a weight on her chest.
Irene stayed awake a little longer, just watching her. Watching the calm settle on her face like a prayer answered.
“Mine,” she whispered again.
Then she closed her eyes, and let the peace hold them both.
Morning arrived gently, without fanfare or noise, just a slow bloom of light pressing through the curtains and spilling into the room like a soft promise. It was the kind of light that didn’t demand anything, that let you wake on your own terms, no harsh edges, no urgency.
Irene stirred first.
For a moment, she stayed still, her body still curled protectively around Y/N’s. Her arm was tucked under the younger girl’s head, slightly numb but unmoving, while the other rested at her waist. Their legs were tangled beneath the sheets, the covers pushed down in their sleep, revealing the faint warmth of skin and fabric where comfort had finally settled in.
Y/N hadn’t moved much, and for the first time in what felt like days, her face was completely at peace, no furrowed brows, no clenched jaw, no tightness behind her eyes. Just the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of sleep, her lips parted slightly, her body soft and unguarded in a way that made Irene’s chest ache with quiet relief.
She didn’t want to get up. Part of her could’ve stayed like that forever, just holding, watching, breathing in the fragile stillness of their shared safety.
Eventually, she eased out of bed, careful not to wake her. She padded barefoot through the apartment, grabbing a blanket from the edge of the bed to wrap around her shoulders as she moved. The air was cool, the kind that nipped at your skin before the day fully warmed, and she welcomed it, something crisp and real after the storm of the last few days.
In the kitchen, she moved slowly, deliberately, letting the silence fill the space as she started breakfast. Nothing complicated. Just something warm, something familiar, soft scrambled eggs, a little rice, toast with too much butter, and a sliced apple the way Y/N liked, peeled and fanned out neatly.
Irene didn’t need her to say thank you, she just needed her to wake up to something kind.
It wasn’t long before she heard the quiet shuffling of feet behind her. She didn’t turn right away. She didn’t have to. Y/N wrapped her arms around her waist from behind, pressing her face into Irene’s shoulder, still half asleep and warm from bed. Her hoodie sleeves swallowed her hands, and her voice came out soft, raspy from sleep and last night’s tears.
“Morning,” she whispered, like the word itself might break the stillness between them.
Irene turned in her arms and met her gaze, tired eyes, a swollen face from crying, messy hair, and somehow still the most beautiful thing Irene had ever seen. She reached up, cupped Y/N’s cheek, and leaned in to kiss her slowly, deliberately, like a quiet reassurance.
“Hey, baby,” she murmured against her lips, voice low with affection. ��Did you sleep okay?”
Y/N nodded, barely. “Yeah, better than I have in a while.”
They didn’t say anything else for a moment. They just stood there, holding each other, letting the warmth between them say everything that didn’t need to be repeated. There was nothing grand about the way they fit together, no cinematic swell of music, no dramatic line, just quiet familiarity, like coming home after being gone for too long.
“Thank you,” Y/N said finally, her voice barely above a breath, as if she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say it. “For last night, for staying.”
Irene pulled her closer, fingers brushing lightly through the ends of her hair. “There’s nothing to thank me for. I’m always going to stay, you don’t have to earn that.”
Y/N’s eyes softened, and for a moment, she looked like she might cry again, not from sadness, but from the strange, overwhelming relief of being fully seen and still chosen.
They sat down to eat together at the small table, knees brushing beneath it, their bodies still close enough to touch but not needing to cling anymore. There was a kind of stillness between them now that didn’t feel empty. It felt safe.
Halfway through breakfast, Irene glanced up and said, completely serious, “By the way, I meant what I said. If I ever see you scrolling through those comments again, I will drop your phone in the sink.”
Y/N laughed, a real one this time, messy and warm and a little nasal from crying too much the night before. “You’re bluffing.”
“Try me,” Irene said, smirking, but her voice was still soft, still loving.
Y/N reached across the table and laced their fingers together. “You’re dramatic.”
“You love it.”
“I do,” Y/N said, smiling without hesitation now. “God, I really do.”
When they finished eating, they lingered at the table longer than they needed to, fingers still linked. Y/N didn’t look at her phone once. She didn’t check notifications, she didn’t apologize.
She didn’t have to.
And later, when she lay back down on the couch with her head in Irene’s lap and her eyes fluttering closed again, Irene leaned down and kissed her temple, whispering,
“You’re not a burden. You’re mine. And I’m yours.”
Y/N didn’t answer, she didn’t need to. She just held Irene’s hand a little tighter, her breathing even and slow, finally unafraid of being held.
191 notes · View notes
earlysunshines · 9 months ago
Text
looking out for you
minatozaki sana x fem!reader
synopsis: sana always makes sure you’re taken care of, even after a loooong shoot.
warnings: none!!! just fluff ; short short shooorrt considering i write over 5k on average… ; supppper short ; not proofread
a/n: wrote this 100 percent on my phone what the hell… random burst of motivation
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foundation covers your cheeks, concealer is still on the little blemish right by your eyebrow, and your lips are still glazed with the lip product from company you’d just shot for.
it’s funny — you’d snicker if your eyes weren’t about to close — since you’re wearing the sweater your girlfriend sana had bought you and old basketball shorts from middle school before you had even considered singing and dancing as a career.
with every blink, your eyelids get heavier and your breathing falls to a more relaxed pace.
“hey babe i’m—“ sana stands still at the door, looking at you with an amused expression. her girlfriend is on their shared bed fully glammed up and nearly asleep. you open your eyes slowly, squinting at the woman who had just returned. sana giggles before sighing, “—back.”
“hey.”
“shoot went well?”
“mhm.” you hum tiredly, feeling the mattress under you shift up and sink back down when it adjusts to sana’s weight. “how was dinner?”
“alright,” she twirls a strand of hair with her pointer finger and smiles softly. “they had your favorite: vodka pasta and dark chocolate at the end, something gourmet.” you hear her snicker before she adds, “gourmet my ass… could’ve gotten that at the convenience store.”
“wasn’t it a michelin restaurant?”
“i don’t really know — or care for that matter.” she kisses your temple. “you weren’t there for me to mind. pasta was good though.”
she kisses you once more and you hum softly, letting the tremor vibrate in the air and mix in with the tenderness airing from your hearts. sana rakes a hand through your hair before getting up and tugging at your wrist.
in return, you whine. you tug your hand back, sparking a little tug of war moment that lasts a mere five seconds before you’re sitting up against your will. sana grins, happy that you’ve complied and then heading towards the bathroom connected to your bedroom.
you fight sleep, blinking and blinking until your eyes shut for a few moments. sana pokes your cheek and it stirs you awake again, her nail sinks into your skin once more, earning a light groan.
she gently guides you to face her, her touch firm but soft as her hands rest on your shoulders. without saying a word, she cups your face, the warmth of her palms soothing against your skin. she reaches for a wipe, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she's savoring the moment.
carefully, she begins to remove your makeup, the wipe gliding effortlessly over your skin, erasing the remnants of three hours worth of shooting and interviews. each swipe is tender, almost reverent, as she leans in closer, her breath tickles your skin. her eyes are focused, but there’s a softness to them, you can’t help but smile softly.
“did you shower at least?” she questions.
“body and hair.”
“all that and your makeup is still on?” sana looks and sounds concerned. “was it that bad?”
“i was just tired, i still am.” you mumble, watching sana pout.
“my poor baby.” she brings your hand to her lips and kisses your knuckles softly.
as the last traces of makeup disappear, she pulls back just slightly, her hands then lingering on your cheeks, her thumb brushing over your jawline. there’s a moment of stillness, where everything feels suspended in the space between you.
sana’s been fond of your face since trainee days, there is never a time where she isn’t taken aback by the features she’s fallen in love with. your hair cascades down and sana feels one corner of her lip tugging harder when she spots the few strands poking out.
“how do you look so good without makeup…”
“stop that.” you fake annoyance in your tone. sana’s giving you doe eyes while rubbing her thumb against your cheek, making you smile. “can i sleep now?”
“oh my gosh.. it must’ve been brutal. you don’t even want to do your skincare?”
“baby… i’m so, so tired.”
“i’ll do the work for you, c’mon.”
without a second for you to respond, she leads your tired self over to the bathroom, making you sit on the toilet seat while she does your skincare for you. even when you try to argue, insisting you’re awake enough to function normally and do it yourself, sana slaps your hand away so she can massage your cheeks enthusiastically with your moisturizer after slapping her fingers dramatically against your skin with toner.
(she argues that the extra force helps it soak in.
you don’t believe her for a second.)
you let her poke at your cheeks, squishing them even if she’s just applying your night cream, and really you just let her have her way with your face before she smiles at you and beams, “done!”
“thank you sana.” you reciprocate her quick peck. “can we sleep now?”
“okay, let me shower my body first, ‘kay?”
“yeah yeah.” you stand up and take in the post-outing sana in her favorite tank top and linen pants — both gifted from you. “i’ll wait for you in bed.”
she kisses you once more, passionately, wrapping her arms around your neck and giggling after she pulls away before pushing you out and going on to do her business.
you roll your eyes and simultaneously smile to yourself before plopping onto your bed, belly first.
and only thirty minutes later , sana comes back to see your back facing the ceiling and head turned while you snore softly. you look like a corpse, she’s always found the way you sleep both concerning and cute.
sana shuffles into bed with you, kissing your cheek before shitifng you over so you can spoon her. after being with you for so long, she’s learned that even if you’re knocked unconscious, you’ll still move so that she’s in your arms or reach.
she sighs contentedly, yawning before kissing your knuckles again.
“adorable…” she mumbles. “love you sweetie.”
sana could be hallucinating, considering she’s nearly asleep, but she swears she hears a tired grumble which bears the same syllables as “i love you.”
637 notes · View notes
pbaz7 · 5 months ago
Text
CROSSING THE LINE — PART NINE ♡
paige x azzi
warnings: panic attack
word count: 5k
A/N: This chapter was a little sad to write but I liked detailed I was able to get with Paige's feelings . If you didn't see my post earlier I'm not sure where I'm going from here yet with this story. This might be one of the last chapters with like an epilogue or something but idk fully yet. Please let me know what you think and leave live reactions and comments if you can! Hope everyone had a nice holiday 😊
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Mid February 2024
Paige stared at her reflection in the mirror, her face pale, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. The weight of it all felt unbearable. Her mind churned with a constant noise—comments, critiques, expectations, all bouncing off the walls of her head. No matter how hard she worked, it was never enough. Each day was a new round of judgment, and she was so tired no matter how much she tried to hide it. 
It was February, and UConn had only lost two games this season, but both had come with a heavy cost. The media storm that followed each loss made it feel like the world was spinning just a little bit too fast, dragging her along with it. Geno’s contradicting criticisms were always looming. She was too passive one game, too aggressive the next, but always too something. She shot too much, didn’t shoot enough, forced too many shots. Every mistake, every misstep, every decision, was held under a microscope, dissected and discussed endlessly.
Paige’s breath came in shallow gasps as she stared at herself in the mirror, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. The scoreboard in her mind was relentless. If she didn’t get at least 25, if she didn’t clearly dominate the game, she wasn’t good enough. It didn’t matter that she was impacting the game in other ways—her assists, her defense, her leadership, her mere gravity on the court. None of that seemed to matter. Only the numbers in the point column.
The pressure was suffocating. No matter how many hours she spent perfecting her game, it was never enough.
Every morning, the first thought in her head wasn’t about the game ahead—it was about the headlines, the tweets, the messages people were sending. Every night, she lay awake replaying her mistakes, wondering how she could have done more. What if she’d pushed harder, passed differently, shot better? What if she had been more aggressive? The question haunted her like a shadow, chasing her down until she couldn’t tell where the doubt ended and she began.
The whispers were always there—people talking about her, criticizing her, claiming she wasn’t the player they thought she should be, the player she used to be. Even her own coach had joined the chorus of voices pointing out her flaws. She could feel the eyes on her during every practice, every game. Everyone was waiting for her to fall, to break under the pressure.
And sometimes, Paige felt like she might.
Azzi slowly noticed it over time. Paige had been quieter than usual during practice, a little more withdrawn in her celebrations, a little more distant. When they were on the court together, Azzi could see the way Paige was moving—slower, as if every step took more energy than the last. She was still putting in the work everyday, but it wasn’t the same. Her confidence, her usual fire, seemed dimmed. Azzi knew Paige well enough to recognize the signs.
So after a seemingly difficult practice for Paige one day, when the gym was nearly empty and the others were gathering their things, Azzi caught up with Paige. She stood in front of her, blocking her path to the locker room, her eyes soft but insistent.
"Paige," Azzi said, her voice gentle but firm. "What’s going on?"
"I’m fine Az," Paige muttered, her tone a little flat.
Azzi raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, especially considering her girlfriend's tone with her. She took a step closer, closing the distance between them.
"You’re not fine," she said quietly, her voice threaded with concern. "You’re putting on a mask, but you know I can see through it."
Paige hesitated for a moment, her gaze dropping to the floor as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She could feel Azzi’s eyes on her, the concern there in the way she was looking at her, but for some reason, the words felt stuck in her throat. She didn’t want to admit how bad it was lately, how much it was all eating away at her.
"I don’t know," Paige said quietly, her voice laced with frustration, a vulnerability she wasn’t used to showing. "It’s just... everything’s too much right now. The pressure. The expectations. I feel like I’m drowning, Azzi. I can’t keep up."
Azzi's heart twisted as she took a step closer, her hand reaching out to gently grasp Paige's arm. "Talk to me, baby," Azzi said softly, her voice full of warmth and care. "You know you’re not in this alone. Whatever you’re feeling, you can share it with me."
Paige let out a shaky breath, the tears she’d been holding back threatening to spill over. She could feel the walls she’d built around herself start to crack, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she wanted to let them fall. She wanted everyone to see everything—the weight of it all, the suffocating pressure she couldn’t escape. She wanted everyone to see just how bad they had made her feel. 
"I just... I don’t know how to do this anymore Az," Paige admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "No matter how hard I try, I’m never enough. The media’s on me, Geno’s on me, even our own damn fans are on me, everyone has something to say, and I feel like I’m constantly failing. If I don’t score 25, if I’m not the one carrying the team every game, it’s like I’m invisible. Like I’m not good enough."
Azzi’s gaze softened even more as she took Paige’s hands in her own, her thumbs brushing over her skin with a soothing touch. "Paige, baby" she said gently, lifting Paige’s chin to meet her eyes. "You are always more than enough. I see everything you’re doing on the court—how you’re leading, how you’re supporting your teammates. You’re making an impact in ways that go beyond just points on the board. And I know how hard you’re working. Don’t let anyone—including yourself—tell you otherwise."
The emotion in Paige’s chest bubbled up, the weight of Azzi’s words landing on her like a balm. She wanted to believe it, wanted to trust that the things her girlfriend said were true. But it was hard to let go of all the voices in her head. It was hard to not think Azzi was just being a supportive girlfriend. 
"I don’t know how to quiet my head," Paige said softly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "How do I keep going when it feels like nothing’s ever enough?"
Azzi pulled her into a gentle hug then, holding her close, her arms wrapping around Paige like a safe haven. "You don’t have to do it alone baby," Azzi murmured into her ear, her voice steady and reassuring. "I’m right here, every step of the way.”
Paige buried her face in Azzi’s shoulder, letting the tears fall freely now with no one else in the gym, no longer holding them back. She didn’t have it in here to be strong right now. She didn’t have it in her to be Uconn’s golden girl right now.
But then Uconn almost lost another game. Keyword being almost. 
The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in around Paige as the weight of everything pressed down on her. She had been here a few times before, locked in this dark space, trying to silence the voices in her head, but today felt different. It was harder to breathe, harder to push through.
The game had ended with a win. UConn had won by 11 points, but it wasn’t enough. It never was. Not when you were the star. Not when everyone expected perfection. Geno had praised her performance, sure, but there was always that hint of disappointment in his voice—more could have been done. More passes. More assists. Fewer contested shots because that won’t help in March.
Paige felt like she could feel the media’s eyes on her the entire game, their cameras flashing with judgment as they pounced on every flaw, no matter how small. The fans, too, had their say—complaining that she should have dropped 30 points on an unranked team, that she was being passive and deferring too much to other players. She knew they didn’t understand. They couldn’t see what was really happening on the court, the way she was trying to balance it all, the way she was doing everything she could to make her teammates shine, to get everyone involved.
But none of that mattered. Not to them.
Paige sat on the floor of the suite, back against the wall, feeling like she was shrinking into herself. She knew better than to get sucked into social media. Azzi had told her, warned her to delete it all, to stop looking at the constant stream of opinions from strangers. But here she was, scrolling through her feed, eyes filling with tears as she read each comment, each demand for more, as if she wasn’t already giving everything she had even if it was slowly killing her. 
She let out a shaky breath, biting down on her lip, trying to hold the tears at bay. But it wasn’t enough. The pressure kept building, the anxiety squeezing around her chest, making it harder to breathe. Paige put her phone down with trembling hands, the weight of it all sinking in, her head pounding with the noise in her mind.
Unable to stop herself, she softly banged the back of her head against the wall a few times, willing the thoughts to stop swirling. 
Why wasn’t it enough? Why couldn’t she just be allowed to have a good game, a solid performance, without the world tearing it apart? Why did every win feel like a loss when the criticism outweighed the praise? 
The tears finally came then, falling freely down her face as she sat there, trying to get a grip on her spiraling thoughts. The walls felt like they were slowly closing in, and she couldn’t stop the fear that was creeping into her chest. The fear that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be enough. That one day, the pressure would break her. That she would fall off the face of the Earth and everything for everyone else would keep spinning. 
She hated feeling weak, hated how powerless she felt in this moment. Not being in control. But she just tried to hold onto the thought of Azzi still in her mind, a small thread of comfort in the chaos. Azzi would understand. Azzi always did.
The room felt so empty without her. The silence was suffocating, the isolation almost too much to bear. Each breath Paige tried to take felt shallow, and the harder she focused on her breathing, the more it seemed to slip away. The more difficult it became. Panic was creeping in, like a hand pressing down on her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs.
She could physically feel all of it—the weight of the expectations, the constant pressure to be perfect. Each thought, each criticism, each word from the media felt like it was wrapping itself around her throat, making it harder to breathe.
She knew she should call Azzi, to try to force some words out so her girlfriend knew how much she needed her. But her phone lay discarded beside her and Paige couldn’t bring herself to look at it. She knew the messages, the comments, that she would unlock her phone to would only make it worse. Her head was spinning, and she couldn’t stop it. Every time she tried to focus her thoughts, to breathe deeply, to imagine Azzi the panic only tightened its grip.
Then the door clicked open, pulling her back from the edge for just a moment. Paige’s heart tried to catch up knowing who it was, but the breath still wouldn’t come.
Azzi froze when she saw Paige, sitting on the floor, her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking. It only took a second for Azzi to drop her bag and throw her phone on the bed before rushing over. She didn’t hesitate, kneeling in front of Paige, taking her face in her hands. Paige couldn’t look at her, her breathing coming in sharp, uneven gasps.
"Paige," Azzi’s voice was gentle, but firm. "Look at me."
But Paige couldn’t. She was shaking, struggling, trapped in the chaos of her mind. Azzi saw it instantly—this wasn’t just sadness this time. This was another panic attack.
"Hey, hey, listen to me," Azzi said softly, her fingers brushing along Paige’s cheek, trying to steady her. "Breathe, baby. You’re okay."
Azzi’s own breaths were deep, slow, as she began to count, trying to guide Paige through the chaos. "In... one, two, three..." she counted, her voice low but steady. "Exhale... one, two, three..."
Paige’s chest heaved, her breaths sharp and ragged. She tried to focus on Azzi’s voice, but everything felt distant, blurry and out of reach.
"Come on, breathe with me," Azzi whispered, gently urging her. "In... one, two, three..." She let the air out slowly, counting as she did. "Exhale... one, two, three."
Paige’s body trembled, and Azzi could feel the weight of her distress, her panic. But she kept her voice calm, breaking each sentence into short, steady breaths.
"You’re safe," Azzi said, her thumb gently tracing over Paige’s skin. "I’m here. Breathe with me baby."
Paige’s breaths came in short, gasping bursts, still out of rhythm. She tried to follow Azzi’s lead, but each time she focused on her breath, it slipped further away.
"In... two, three," Azzi counted, her voice never wavering. "Exhale... two, three. You’re okay. I love you. I’m here."
Paige’s hands shook as she clutched at her chest, fighting for air. "I can’t... Azzi..." she gasped, her voice barely audible. She was drowning in the overwhelming pressure, feeling like she was finally losing the battle.
"You can," Azzi whispered, her own breath deepening as she counted. "In... one, two, three... Exhale... one, two, three." She leaned closer, her forehead gently resting against Paige’s. "Focus on me. You’re doing great. In, out. In, out."
The air in the room seemed to thicken, but slowly, Paige’s breathing began to soften. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. The frantic gasps slowed, her chest rising and falling with each breath, steadier now.
Azzi didn’t stop. She kept her hand on Paige’s face, gently coaxing her. "You’re so amazing, baby. You’re so strong. You’re so perfect."
Each breath they took together was a small step, and with every inhale, Paige felt the panic loosen its grip, just a little. Her hands stopped shaking as much, her body less rigid. Azzi’s voice was still steady, counting each breath, reassuring her.
"Good," Azzi said, her voice soft but filled with warmth. "That’s it. You’re okay now. Just breathe with me."
Paige’s breath was slower now, the panic starting to fade, replaced with exhaustion. She looked up at Azzi, her eyes filled with gratitude, but there was still a trace of vulnerability in her gaze.
Azzi smiled softly, her thumb brushing across Paige’s cheek. "I’m here," she whispered again, as though to remind Paige that she wasn’t alone. "I promise you’re never alone."
The storm hadn’t completely passed, but in that moment, with Azzi’s arms around her and her steady presence grounding her, Paige felt like she could breathe again.
After a few minutes of quiet, Azzi didn’t speak. She simply stood up and took Paige’s hand, gently guiding her towards the bathroom. Paige let herself be led, her body feeling light but exhausted, her mind still clouded and heavy. She felt empty, drained, but Azzi was there—her steady hand, her calm presence, like a lifeline in the chaos.
Azzi helped Paige undress. Paige didn’t protest, too worn out to resist, too overwhelmed to think about anything beyond the comfort Azzi was offering. When Azzi took off her own clothes and stepped into the shower with Paige, there was no rush, no urgency, just a quiet understanding between them as they sat in silence for a little bit.
Azzi began undoing Paige’s two braids softly as she kissed her girlfriends cheek or neck now and then. She then reached for the shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into her palm before gently massaging it into Paige’s wet hair. The warm water cascaded down over them, mingling with the steam, but all Paige could focus on was the soothing pressure of Azzi’s fingers against her scalp. Slowly, the tension in her body began to melt away. She leaned into Azzi, letting her eyes close as she rested her head on her shoulders, the simple act of being cared for grounding her even further.
Azzi didn’t say anything, her hands working methodically, rinsing the shampoo from Paige’s hair before applying conditioner. The quiet was comforting, the sound of water and Azzi’s soft hum in Paige’s ear were the only things filling the space.
When Azzi finished rinsing the conditioner out of her hair, Paige finally opened her eyes, meeting Azzi’s gaze. Azzi’s eyes softened, filled with a tenderness Paige couldn’t quite put into words. Her love for Paige was clear in the way she looked at her—gentle, unwavering, and so full of admiration.
Paige’s throat tightened, but she whispered, “Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse, but full of gratitude.
Azzi smiled, her thumb lightly grazing Paige’s cheek as she leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “You don’t have to thank me, baby. I told you, no matter what, I’m always in your corner and I’m going to help you get through this.” 
The words settled into Paige’s chest. She wasn’t alone. Azzi was there, always there.
Without thinking, Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi, pulling her close. The water hit them both, but neither of them cared. They stood there, their bodies pressed together, holding each other in the quiet intimacy of the moment.
Steam lingered in the air as Paige stepped out of the bathroom dressed in a hoodie and sweats, her damp hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. The soft shuffle of Azzi’s movements drew her attention to the bed, where Azzi had just sat cross-legged, a comb in one hand and two hair ties in the other.
"Come here," Azzi said softly, patting the space in front of her.
Paige raised an eyebrow, but the gentle look in Azzi’s eyes pulled her forward. She settled on the floor, her back to Azzi, who immediately began threading her fingers through Paige’s damp hair.
For a while, the room was quiet except for the faint sound of the comb gliding through Paige’s hair. Azzi broke the silence, her voice gentle. "You wanna tell me what’s been on your mind tonight?"
Paige was silent, staring at her hands clasped in her lap. She bit her bottom lip, her mind racing as she tried to find the words. "I just... I don’t know what people want from me anymore," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
Azzi paused briefly, her hands stilling before resuming their steady rhythm. "What do you mean?"
"It’s like..." Paige hesitated, trying to find the words. "It’s not about basketball anymore. Every game, every move—it’s a story for someone else to tell. I can’t stop thinking about what people are gonna say after every game, and it’s exhausting."
Azzi hummed softly as she began parting Paige’s hair for the braids. "Do you think about that while you’re playing?"
Paige nodded, her voice small. "Sometimes. It’s like... the game isn’t just the game anymore. There’s so much pressure to live up to everyone’s expectations, and it makes it hard to just... enjoy it. To be in the moment."
Azzi gently tugged one section of hair, starting the first braid. "Paige, baby, you’ve been playing basketball your whole life. You didn’t fall in love with it because of what other people thought. You fell in love with it because it made you happy.”
"I know," Paige said, her voice wavering slightly. "But it’s hard not to care when there’s so many expectations. It’s like... no matter what I do, it’s never enough for me to just get one day of silence. And I just don’t want to let anyone down."
Azzi’s hands worked steadily as she braided, her voice calm but firm. "You can’t control what people think or say, no matter how hard you try so we gotta let that part go. But you can control remembering why you play. You don’t owe anyone anything, Paige—not the fans, not the critics, not even me baby. You play this game for you and only you. 
Paige was quiet for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweats. "It’s just hard to block it all out sometimes."
"I know it is," Azzi said softly, tying off the first braid and starting on the second. "But you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. You’ve handled so much already, you’ve been through so much already and you’re still here, still fighting. That’s what matters."
Paige glanced over her shoulder, a small smile breaking through her thoughtful expression. "When did you get so wise?"
Azzi grinned, focused on finishing the second braid. "I’ve always been this wise. You’re just quiet enough for the first time to actually pay attention."
Paige chuckled, leaning into Azzi’s touch as she tied off the braid. Azzi ran her fingers over the finished work, smoothing down stray hairs before giving Paige’s shoulder a light squeeze.
"There," Azzi said, standing up and heading to the corner of the room to grab her basketball shoes. "Now, let’s go."
Paige blinked, looking at her with clear confusion on her face. "What? Go where?"
"The gym," Azzi said matter-of-factly, sliding her feet into some slides
Paige stared at her in disbelief. "Az, we just played an entire game and just got out of the shower. You’re crazy." 
Azzi smirked, tossing Paige’s shoes onto the floor beside her. "Come on, Superstar. I’m not asking."
Paige groaned, flopping back onto the carpet. "I picked a crazy person to be my girlfriend," she muttered, though a small grin tugged at her lips.
Azzi stepped closer, brushing a playful kiss against Paige’s temple. "Definitely, thought that was in the fine print though."
With a dramatic sigh, Paige sat up, slipping on her shoes and tying them lazily. "You’re lucky you’re cute," she grumbled as she followed Azzi out the door to her car. 
The gym was eerily quiet, the faint hum of the overhead lights the only sound as Paige and Azzi switched into their basketball shoes. Paige stood near the baseline, watching Azzi lace up her sneakers with an amused expression.
Azzi grabbed a basketball from the rack, dribbling it once before tossing it to Paige. "Check."
Paige caught the ball, raising an eyebrow at Azzi. "What are we doing?"
Azzi, already standing at the three point line, grinned. "We’re playing one-on-one."
Paige scoffed, spinning the ball lazily in her hands. "No, we’re not."
Azzi tilted her head, feigning innocence. "What, scared you’ll lose?"
Paige rolled her eyes, her competitive spirit sparking lightly at Azzi’s accusation. "First of all, I don’t lose one-on-one. Second, I definitely wouldn’t lose to my girlfriend."
Azzi smirked. "Then prove it. Play me. Otherwise I’ll just tell everyone you were scared."
Paige muttered something incoherent under her breath before lazily checking the ball back to Azzi.
Azzi immediately took advantage of Paige’s relaxed posture, going into a quick jumper from behind the arc. The ball arching beautifully through the air and swishing through the net.
"2-0," Azzi announced, her smirk widening.
Paige groaned, grabbing the ball. "Alright, that’s real cute."
When Paige checked the ball this time, she pressed a hand firmly against Azzi’s hip, cutting off her space. Azzi tried to drive left, but Paige stuck with her, their bodies brushing as they collided. Azzi pivoted, stepping back into a mid-range jumper that kissed the front of the rim before bouncing in.
"3-0," Azzi teased, grinning. "You’re looking a little slow tonight, P. You tired?"
"Yeah?" Paige’s voice dripped with mock sweetness as she checked the ball again. Azzi tried to hit another step back but it bounded off the rim. 
They checked the ball and Paige jab-stepped to her left, forcing Azzi to shift her weight, then crossed over and exploded to the basket with a quick step. Azzi stayed close, but Paige used her body to shield the ball, finishing with a layup off the glass. 
"3-1," Paige said, flashing a smug grin.
Azzi grabbed the ball, her competitive spirit ignited even though this was supposed to be about Paige. As they continued to play, their movements grew sharper and more physical. Paige backed Azzi down on one possession, bumping her with her shoulder before spinning for a fadeaway jumper. Azzi countered by cutting through the lane with a quick first step, using her speed to slip past Paige for an easy floater.
The teasing never stopped.
"Didn’t know I signed up for wrestling practice," Azzi quipped after Paige body-checked her on a drive.
"Yeah yeah," Paige shot back. "You’re not getting past me again."
Azzi grinned. "Oh, I’m passing you right now." She immediately drove left, brushing past Paige’s hip as she hooked her slightly and finishing with a reverse layup that left Paige shaking her head.
The game became more intense with each possession. Azzi swatted one of Paige’s layup attempts, the ball flying out of bounds. Paige groaned.
"You’ve never done that in your life" Paige said, narrowing her eyes as she retrieved the ball.
"First time for everything," Azzi replied, standing tall and grinning.
Paige responded by hitting a deep three-pointer, holding her follow-through for much longer than necessary as the ball sailed through the hoop. "9-8," Paige said, her smirk confident.
On the next possession, she used a quick hesitation move to fake Azzi out of position, draining another jumper.
As the score climbed, so did the tension. The gym felt warmer, their breaths coming faster, their earlier shower completely undone by the sweat dripping down their faces. Every drive and every block brought them closer, their bodies brushing and colliding in ways that blurred the lines between competition and something more.
At one point, Azzi’s hand lingered on Paige’s waist as she pivoted for a shot, and Paige didn’t pull away. Instead, she smirked, leaning in slightly as she jab-stepped.
"You getting distracted on me?" Paige teased, her voice low.
" Nope," Azzi fired back, though her flushed cheeks suggested otherwise.
Eventually they were tied at 17, both breathing heavily as they sized each other up. Paige had the ball tucked against her hip, her gaze locked on Azzi.
"What do I get when I win?" Paige asked, her tone playful but laced with a hint of something more.
Azzi’s eyes narrowed, her lips curving into a smile. "You’re not going to win."
Paige chuckled, her confidence unshaken. "Guess we’ll see."
She dribbled slowly, luring Azzi to sleep on defense before hitting her with a fast combo move before she drove hard to the basket, finishing with a finger roll that danced around the rim before dropping in.
"18-17," Paige said, smirking as she checked the ball. "Told you, I don’t lose."
It was Azzi’s ball again and once she caught the ball back from Paige, she stepped back, shooting a quick three-pointer that hit nothing but the bottom of the net.
"19-18," Azzi said, mimicking Paige’s earlier tone. She smirked, stepping closer. "What am I getting when I win?"
Paige grinned, walking up to Azzi until they were nearly nose to nose. “A little something to remind you how giving I can be.”
Azzi shook her head, laughing. "You’re full of it."
The game continued, both of them refusing to give an inch to the other but finally Paige ended it with a three that rattled in after she hit Azzi with a hesi pullup. 
"That’s game," Paige said, her voice triumphant as she grabbed her water bottle.
Azzi was smiling as she sipped from her own bottle, her grin unusually big. Paige noticed and raised an eyebrow. "You do know you just lost, right?"
Azzi kept smiling, stepping closer until they were chest to chest. "Yeah," she said softly. "But you weren’t thinking about anything else besides this game, were you?"
Paige blinked, her grin softening as realization hit her. For the first time in a while, she hadn’t been consumed by the weight of everyone’s expectations and opinions of how she was playing. She’d just been... playing.
"Huh," Paige said, her voice quieter. "I guess not."
Azzi smirked, leaning in close, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "See? I told you I’d help."
Paige leaned in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s, but before she could close the gap, Azzi stepped back with a mischievous grin.
"Nah," Azzi said, grabbing her water bottle and bag. "I’m a sore loser. You don’t get a kiss after beating me."
Paige laughed. "The winner’s supposed to get something."
Azzi tilted her head, her voice dipping into a sultry tone. "Oh? Is that what you want from me baby?"
Paige nodded, her smile growing as she stepped closer, but Azzi turned on her heel, heading for the door.
"You gotta work for it," Azzi called over her shoulder, her voice dripping with playful challenge as she walked away.
Paige stood there, dumbfounded, watching her girlfriend’s retreating figure. Despite everything she’d been feeling earlier, all the negativity and doubt, Azzi had completely unraveled it and left nothing but the Paige who loved to play basketball more than anything.
"Wait!" Paige called after her, grinning. "So, I’m really not getting any tonight?"
Azzi turned, walking backward as her smirk deepened. "Maybe," she teased, her eyes gleaming. "But like I said you gotta work for it P."
Paige chuckled, shaking her head as she jogged after her, a lightness settling in her chest. She couldn’t stop the grin spreading across her face, her eyes fixed on Azzi.
"Thank the gods," Paige muttered under her breath, her voice laced with a mix of humor and adoration, "and every single heaven above for Azzi Fudd."
The thought made her laugh softly to herself as she caught up, ready to follow wherever Azzi led her next.
245 notes · View notes
satorusugurugurl · 7 months ago
Text
Yeehaw!!
Summary: Suguru loses a bet to Satoru and had to wear a cowboy costume to a party. But you consider yourself the real winner.
Characters: cowboy!Geto Suguru x AFAB!Reader
Warnings: costume play, kissing, sex in a stranger's bed, language, face siting, 69ing, aex, unprotected sex, cream pie, hair pulling
Word Count: 2.9K
A/N: Kinktober Day 16! Cowboy!Geto! I think I was possessed when writing this! Holy shit. 😮‍💨
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You cannot wait. Excitement shoots through every nerve in your body. You could kiss Gojo right now, but thinking about him like that alleviates some of the arousal that’s pooling between your legs. This was going to be the best night of your life. Your boyfriend had lost a bet against his best friend. I bet that involved costumes for your local Halloween party at the college. Suguru wanted to wear something simple, like a suit and tie. While, Gojo had been insistent on his choice.
You had never been more excited over your boyfriend losing a video game than you had the second Gojo whispered his costume idea to you. You squirmed, toying with your scarecrow costume as there was a sigh from behind the door in front of you. Suguru was not looking forward to this, but you were seconds away from screaming and pure anticipation.
“If you say anything—” his voice was dark and deep. You could almost hear the blush that was fuming in his cheeks. “I swear to God, I will kick you out of the apartment.”
“Seeing that I have a set of keys to the apartment, I think that would be a waste of time.” you bite down on your lip, rubbing between your teeth. “And I can assure you that I will not be laughing.” if anything, he would be fighting back a moan. Because the thought of your boyfriend and this specific outfit had your pussy throbbing.
The door to the bedroom creaked, and out stepped your cowboy boyfriend. God, he looks like a fucking meal. Your mouth watered at the sight of the blue jeans, hugging his thighs to the tight black button-down top around his toned arms. The black bandanna that was tied around his neck. Your heart feels like it’s racing in a 5K marathon.
Suguru looked like sin incarnate, and that sin was lust. It took everything in your power not to pounce on him right then and there. He seemed so shy in his cowboy outfit. Dusty rose hue was tinting his pretty cheeks. He looked anywhere but you. He had no idea just how sexy he was.
“I told you not a damn word.” He jabbed his pointer to you to emphasize his words. “Not a word.”
“Of course,” you responded in a sing-song sweet voice in an attempt not to phase him in the slightest. In reality, all you were thinking about was pushing him down on the couch right there, but he was just feeling a little insecure. You only needed ten minutes with your mouth, and he would feel like a million dollars. However, now was not the time to suck him dry. That would have to wait until after the party.
You stay true to his request, not saying a single word about his costume, even if it was nearly physically impossible not to respect him and his wishes. When all you wanted to do was catcall him like a horny construction worker. But you did your best, staying close to him all night and being his moral support even when Satoru started parading him around the party, which you hadn’t initially minded.
Until you saw the girls staring.
A whole bunch of them were eye fucking him right there in front of you. You could see it in their little eyes that they were mentally trying to undress him despite you being right there by his side. Jealousy turned in your stomach like molten lava, making the alcohol you had drank boil in protest. This came with the territory when dating a supermodel-worthy gorgeous boyfriend. You had gotten used to it. But maybe it was because he was too good-looking tonight; it made you want to go on a spontaneous murder spree whenever someone glanced in his direction.
You had stepped away for just a second to regain your composure and cool before you did something completely irrational when there was a flash of white. You whirled back around, watching as one of the girls that had been oogling your boyfriend all evening grabbed him by the bandanna yanking him down to her height. Suguru looked uncomfortable by this, his violet eyes searching for you in the crowd as the drunk woman twirled her finger around the fabric.
“Say cowboy~ let me take you for a ride?”
Oooh fuck this! This costume was supposed to be for your pleasure! Not for every single woman, man, or person at this fucking party! You snapped forward, little pieces of hay falling out of the sleeve of your dress as you hooked your finger under the loop of his belt, yanking him back towards you. The sudden movement of Suguru falling back into you had the drink he had been nursing to slosh within the orange silo cup before coating his hand in beer which also hit the girl's dress square in the tits.
“Ah!” She screeched, looking down at herself. “What the fuck?!”
You stepped forward, putting yourself between your boyfriend and the stupid angel bitch. “The only person riding him tonight will be me.” The angel’s lips curled up away from her teeth.
“Says who?”
“Says me!” You grabbed hold of his bandanna with your entire hand, yanking him down to your mouth as you kissed him as if no one else was in the room. Suguru’s eyes are wide at your sudden action. But he slowly relaxed, letting you take the lead as you kissed him with ferocity.
You could hear the angel cursing in disapproval before her stiletto clicked against the floor as she walked away. Suguru was the first to pull away, looking around for any sight of the woman. When he realized you guys were safe, he sighed in blissful relief.
“You saved me there, Princess.” There was a certain gleam in his eyes as he turned his attention back down on you. “Talk about that awkward conversation starter, huh?” You say nothing as you grab him by the hand, leading him upstairs. “Hey, what are you doing?” He questioned, eyebrows pinching together as he was shoved into one of the vacant rooms upstairs.
“Something I should have done the second. I saw you in that fucking outfit.”
One second, Suguru is standing before you, and the next, he’s being shoved onto the mattress. “Huh? What?” He props himself up on his elbows, watching as you slowly shimmy your panties down, kicking them across the room.
“I should have kept you all to myself. But I fully intend to make amends for my mistake.”
Suguru greatly underestimated how much you would’ve liked his costume. At first, he was annoyed with the childish game that Satori was playing since he didn’t have much of a childhood. Geto saw this as a way for his best friend to torture him. What he never expected for his girlfriend to be the one to torture him. Because here you were 20 minutes later, your pussy being ground against his mouth as you sucked on his cock, hollowing your cheeks as you both sixty-nine.
But— most really considered as torture?
Because Suguru was losing his fucking mind over how good you tasted and how fucking feral you were. When you shoved him down on the bed, he was expecting you to pull his cock out and just ride him, or maybe you’re going to beg for him to fuck you. You instead took a seat right on his face, grinding your hips and slow, meticulous circles with the last thing he had been expecting. Not that he was one to complain.
It wasn’t very often that you rode his face, but fuck when you allow yourself to loosen the grips you had on yourself. Fuck, and it always led to some pretty amazing sex. You had his cowboy hat off, throwing it across the room as you fisted your fingers through the silk strands of his hair, gripping onto it as if they were reigns, and you rode him up and down slowly over his tongue, grinding your slick pussy all over his willing tongue.
Your head had been tossed back and pure blissful pleasure. Not giving a damn about who might be around to hear you lose yourselves. All that you were concerned with was fucking his mouth. He was slowly cursing himself, wishing you weren’t in a scarecrow costume but a cowgirl costume alongside him. Thinking of you wearing a cute little hat as you rode his face like a fucking horse, had his cock throbbing against his denim jeans, begging to be released.
And luckily for him, it was something you had picked up on. You stopped grinding your pussy on his tongue, pulling back just enough to look into his pretty lilac eyes. Your boyfriend made a sound of disapproval. The second you pulled away from his mouth. But before any protest could leave his talented tongue, you turned around, working at his belt in the buttons to his pants.
All protests vanished along with the blood in his head as it rushed to his cock. That crazed horny manic still fueled your actions. Making you forget momentarily that you both weren’t in the comfort of your own home, but instead, we’re in a stranger's house, a frat house, to be exact. The only thoughts that were going through your mind were how badly you needed his cock in your mouth.
You growled, your eyes rolling back as you wasted no time. You jerked him several times with fast, quick pumps in your adorable hands before you let him into your wet, willing mouth. Usually, Suguru would have been completely enthralled by your talent, watching how you hollowed your cheeks as you’re pretty, perfect lips wrapped around his thick cock. He couldn’t care less about what you looked like sucking him off right now. Because he was more entranced with your dripping wet cunt in his face.
That momentary setback of switching positions came and went like clicking seconds on a clock. Suguru growled, lifting his head, darting his tongue out, sliding it between your slick folds, the tip grazing over your entrance, swirling his tongue around it before he reached up, grabbing a handful of your ass. You cried around his eyes, watering as you struggled to take him further down your throat. Which was surprisingly hard when he was shoving his tongue deep inside your pussy, licking your inner walls without a care in the world.
His enthusiasm nearly had you choking on his dick as he breathed heavily against your swollen folds. Like he had been diving deep in the water and gasping for air. But the only thing he was diving deep into was your sex. He pulled his tongue out from inside of you to lap at your folds again, the tip of his tongue finding your clit with such ease that it had you buckling down on his mouth hard. You cried out, eyes squeezing, as you tried to focus on him and his cock.
Both of you were withering masses as you worked each other to get off, but right before either of you could cum, you pulled off his mouth and his cock, hovering above him. His cock throb angrily in protest. The dark rosey tip twitched, and a droplet of pre-come sheared on the tip before running over to trail down the underside of his cock, making him shiver.
“W-Why’d you stop?” He questioned, watching as you moved, putting your legs underneath his as you presented your backside to him.
“I told you I was going to be riding you tonight.”
Before he could respond, letting you know that you had rode his face, you reached around, grabbing a hold of the base of his cock. He jerked forward, thrusting into your hand as you led the tip toward your entrance, rubbing it up and down the slick folds before pushing yourself down onto his length. Suguru cursed under his breath, back as his jaw clenched tight as you threw your head back while arching your beautiful bareback.
“Nngh fuck!” He huffed out, lifting his head just enough to watch as you sink down completely onto him. Your bodies were pressed flush against each other. “Holy fuck—you’re so fucking wet! Just how much do you like this costume?” it wasn’t so much a question and more like a statement. He knew you liked this costume.
Suguru just wanted to hear you say how much you liked it.
There was a breathless laugh that passed through your lips as you began rocking your hips back and forth while pulling off of his cock, slamming yourself back down onto it. Is it possible for you to be so cute and sexy simultaneously?! You hum breathless moans, filling the vacant room you both are in.
“I-I love it!” You post yourself down onto his length until the head of his cock is pressing right against your cervix. “I fucking love this goddamn costume.” You pulled yourself back up off of a length, allowing him to see your slick, coating his cock. “I-I love it s-so much!”
Suguru hisses through his teeth, becoming more animalistic as you bounce. “Fuck—fuck I can tell you’re so worked up!” He crashes his head to sight as he tries his damnedest to blow his load right then and there. “Fuck you squeezing me too tight, babe!” His hands both reach out to grab handfuls of your ass, squeezing and massaging it before pulling it apart to watch with lustful eyes as you force yourself further down his length.
“Haha!” You laugh out as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling gently on it. “Fuuuck~ I don’t give a damn if you cum too fast right now! I plan on riding you all fucking night.”
Your bounces become something less methodical and more precise, pulling all the way off before his tips snag at your entrance before you slam yourself down on him. Skins clap against skin that sheen with a thin layer of sweat. You’re crying out as you grab hold of his upper thigh for leverage as you throw yourself back onto his cock as if he was your own personal sex toy.
“Fu—hnnngh!” Suguru’s eyes roll back as he grips your ass with a force that’s gonna leave bruises. “Holy fuck, your pussy is so fucking good.” He was trying to fight against the white spots that were forming in his vision as his orgasm was closing in on him. A white ring of your combined arousals forms at the base of his cock, the physical evidence that you were aroused and that you were both close to cumming. And that sight has your boyfriend smirking sinisterly. “Fuck!” Suguru pulls his hands away just to slap them as hard as he can against the fat of your ass. “Ride me, cowgirl, put your fucking back into it.”
Suddenly, the tables have turned on you. “Ahhh!” You cry out, eyes going wide as your boyfriend reaches up, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking your back, forcing you to arch your back even deeper. “S-Suguru.” You bouncing like a maniac, like you’re bouncing in his thrust, are the only thing keeping you both alive.
“Yeah, just like that princess, ride my cock, ride me like you fucking mean it.”
“I-I’m—I’m c-cumming!” You cry out, whimpering like the submissive little bitch you know you are. Suguru props himself up on one of his elbows as he continues to use your hair as leverage as he begins fucking up into you in time with your bouncing. “F-Sugu!! Sugu! Cu-cumming!” He laughs low in his belly as he watches you come undone on his cock.
You’re squirting, saving the sheets of the unknown bed that you find yourselves in, not giving a fucking damn about it at the moment. “Fuuck!! Princess, take it!! Fucking take my goddamn fucking cum!” You couldn’t care less because all that mattered, and that moment was feeling your boyfriend fill you up with his hot thick cum. None of the fuckers downstairs mattered. They didn’t even register in your mind as your boyfriend fucked into you like the rugged cowboy he was dressed like.
The man that pushes you, forcing you down into the mattress as he takes control, his hand that’s still wrapped in your hair or your face down into the mattress as you scream into the duvet. Your eyes are watering mascara, and your face makeup is running down your flushed cheeks. Fuck his cum into you, forcing another orgasm out of you as you scream into the mattress. He shudders behind you, pressing his button-down top flush against your back; he grinds into you, pushing him and his new load further inside of you.
And he doesn’t stop until you’re both breathless, lifting your face out of the duvet, turning you to face him. You both are fucked up mess of sweat, spit, and cum. Suguru growls, kissing you deeply, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth as the door to the bedroom jiggles as someone tries to get in.
“Fuck off!” Suguru barks out, tying his hair back into a bun as he slaps your ass. “I’m a hardworking cowboy, enjoying the fruit of my labor.” You squeaked out as he flat on his stomach, grabbing your ass, forcing you back onto his mouth where he’s licking your combined cum out of your pussy. You shuddered, eyes rolling back. A sweat beads against your forehead. “Yee-fuckin-haw.”
Forever Tag List:
@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks @lana18918
Kinktober Tag List:
@candy-s72
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the-monkeies-girl · 1 year ago
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um hi first time requester here i hope im doing it right. can you give us more noa x reader hedcanons please i'm so happy to find someone writing for him
Noa x Human ! Reader Imagines - Part Two.
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Let's go babey round TWO. We are eating good today. This ended up being like 3 fanfics rolled into one. 5K+ Words haha. Likes, comments, reblogs always appreciated! Enjoy reading. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Pairing: Noa x Human ! Reader. Rating: T. ( Just for safe measure. Some mentions of aggression, mating. That good stuff. ) Read Part One Here.
Slow Burn Series: Customary. Gone Hunting.
**Does contain spoilers for Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes.
Noa singing to the Eagles. He felt like he never had the talent. At least, not in the way that his father did. What happened with Proximus Caesar months ago… Noa reflected on that and rested his hand down on the tightly knit together wooden branches that served as a platform high above the whole of the Eagle Clan. It had to have been a fluke of nature, maybe stupid luck that he was able to preserve and get his Eagle to cooperate instead of scratching his arm to unrecognition. Shuffling a bit to the right and out of the council's den, Noa noted that there were still some items that were out of place from the raid of his village. Some small jars tipped over, out of view to anyone who wasn’t looking for a mess. Bird feathers were fallen on the ground, flocking it beyond knowledge that there was even wood there. Noa, being so familiar here, knew otherwise but others would make the unsafe assumption that they were simply being held in animation by a structure made from bird feathers. Small bits of ash here and there from the fire, but the structure itself was able to be repaired to be used again. He was grateful for that.
It was… Where he last was with his father, where he had been crowned shortly after, blue feathers now adorning the band that encased his right bicep, where he felt he had time to reflect and dwindle into nothingness, to not be important because to himself, he rarely ever was and it seemed the feeling was only enhanced now that he was responsible for the wellbeing of everyone in his Clan. They came first, Noa came last. Protect them at the sacrifice of himself. Noa nodded at that, self-assured. He had just disbanded with his council, nothing of interest picking up through the muddled nature of his thoughts. Just talk about the repairs to the village, about the next round of young Apes who were going to be bonded with their own feathery friend… Most days, Noa felt inclined to participate, he was their leader now. But today, there was not a possibility that he could even engage in regular conversation.
He grumbled under his breath, and a few of the birds reacted purely to the sound, not necessarily to Noa himself; that was what he tried to convince his mind to believe as his own Eagle, which used to be his own fathers, landed on his shoulder. There was minimal effort put into the sounds as he began circling the room slowly, looking at each of the Eagles that rested there, so delicate and fierce on their perches. He wished to be that… Strong, unafraid, and confident. Puffing his chest out, Noa feigned fake confidence before ultimately blowing the air out of his lungs, shoulders falling in some mild defeat. He seemed to shrink in on himself before returning to his rotation of the room.
For every round he made with his feet, his vocals grew ever so gently in intensity, his mouth now making an obvious ‘O’. Apes were not known to be great at singing ( at least Chimpanzees ), but they were known to make communication with sounds. Singing was the only way to describe it, and it took Noa nearly a month to explain to you what the sound actually was because he was unsure of the word. He was too self-aware to actually demonstrate. A lot of back and forth ensued. It was not a hoot, it was not a holler. It was…. Humming. Almost, crying in sound. Screeching if he were loud enough. He wasn’t though. He kept it hushed, intimate and private between himself and his birds.
And you didn't have it in your heart to say anything or move, almost splayed completely on your stomach, trying to ignore the jabbing pain in your ribs from resting on the hard wood that served as a ramp upwards towards the Ape you had come to see. He had to have been at least two meters above you at this point, maybe more. It was a stupid decision, you knew that. He’d kick you out from being in such a sacred place to his people. Why you felt drawn here, why you wanted to see him… All rational thought disappeared when you heard him. Noa had told you that this is how bonding went. You sang to your bird in the same way the egg sang to you to be chosen. You hadn’t seen it in practice, until now. Glancing up, you could see the shape of his feet through some of the thickets of wood, a few feathers falling through the cracks and gracefully landing either on you, or nearby. Would he stop if he knew you were there? You wondered and clenched your jaw.
Most likely he’d stop, you figured. Noa wasn’t one to do this in front of others out of fear or embarrassment. The only time he did it was to save his Clan. He’d do it again, sure, but to sing for them ceremoniously was a terrifying thought that was inevitably going to come to fruition some day. He told you time and time again though, the customs, the crown that had been metaphorically passed down to him from his father, the burden, the great angst he felt knowing that it all rested on him. He never flat out expressed that’s how it was, how he was feeling with his inner turmoil, but it became more frequently observed the longer you were in the care of the Eagle Clan. You so desperately wanted to help him.
Grasping a feather in front of you between your fingertips, you propped yourself up to sit and then to stand. Giving one more glance up at Noa, you turned to leave, deciding that you had no reason to be there; you couldn’t come up with one if he put you on the spot. He’d tell you the same, you were so sure of that. But… There was one irrefutable fact in all of this regardless.
Noa knew you were there the entire time.
Noa offering you an animal pelt. ‘They get… cold.’ Raka’s words echoed for a long time in Noa’s mind as he peered over at you, observing the nature of your smaller frame sitting so intently near the communal fire of the Clan. Some chatter off to the side from some Apes also enjoying the fire, but they were out of sight, out of mind for Noa. You were so close that the roar of the flames pushed back the hair from your face, giving the male Ape an exceptionally good view of your expression, even from the distance he was at.
You even had your eyelids shut, he noted before turning his head back towards his hands, only momentarily before he was looking right back at you. You were truly soaking in as much warmth as you possibly could. The waves of light encapsulated in some elegant dance as the blaze flickered across your body. Noa was left feeling slightly mesmerized by that like he would float over to you if you beckoned him. You were covered, shoulders and below, draped in unfamiliar clothing.
Today was the first time Noa had seen you wearing a long sleeve shirt and pants that swept you up, almost consuming due to the large nature of them. You had tied a loose knot around the waist to keep the bottom piece from falling, but he did notice you picking them up here and there as you moved throughout the day. It was obvious that they weren’t tailored to your body, but when you had stumbled upon them and snagged them for yourself, you didn't want to complain. Any sort of clothing was valuable, especially as the winter was coming. There wasn’t much else to that, Noa thought to himself and rested what he was tinkering with down on the bench in front of him.
You seemed content enough, Noa dubbed and gave himself a small smile. It faded just as quickly as it came, the knowledge that someone could see him absolutely enamored like a fool begging for attention from his most desired… Was not very leader-like. Noa felt like he’d snap at someone if they were to bring it up, bring you up as if they had a right to talk freely about you. Well… The joke was on Noa. They absolutely had the right but that didn't stop him from thinking of ways to deter people from doing that. He cherished the jealousy and harnessed it into a protective shield. He cherished you and the feelings that subsided in both his mind and body.
Those seemingly unrequited feelings were what spurred him from his perched seat and setting a small pace towards his nest. You’d be okay for just a minute or two, he figured and scattered a bit more quickly. Shuffling in your spot, you had only taken your eyes off of him here and there as your eyelids rested shut from the tiredness that swept over you in waves. That’s what the heat did to you; made you tired beyond comprehension. Maybe, you muttered inside of your head, you’d just tip right over and fall asleep on the ground rather than making the needed transverse back to your nest of twigs, feathers and smaller animal pelts. You must have dozed off regardless of your train of thought because when you looked up at where Noa had been sitting previously, it was vacant.
You blinked. Something hung on your shoulders. You blinked again, hearing a small bit of heavier breathing coming from your left side. Just a few soft hooing notions to let you know that he was near, not a threat. Submissive, if that’s what you wanted. For a lingering moment, it almost felt like there was a hand, delicately moving against your left shoulder blade, pressing in and out as if probing you to make sure you were still alive, but with sleep on your horizon of your body, it was hard to determine if that happened or if it was what you wanted to happen. Wanted Noa to do.
With your eyes shut at the pleasant sensation of the animal pelt, you drew a deep breath in and relished in the added feeling of your lungs expanding so lazily; like you were being smothered and taken down into a dark but very warm point of interest. “Hmmm.” You murmured out loud. It smelled remarkably rich once you were able to process that along the teetering line of slumber. Like a conifer tree, vines draping themselves delicately over building ruins, grainy like the Earth. There was one more note there, something incredibly fragrant. Familiar and it caused you to grasp at the item around your shoulders to dig your nose closer to it. It was a smell you savored more than you cared to admit, but in your sleepy stupor, it was happily acknowledged verbally.
“Noa.”
He was rock silent next to you, green eyes wide with surprise at the surmise of his name falling from your lips. So… so nice, Noa thought to himself, head tilting to the side in a subconscious bid to get closer to you. There was an intense and increased magnitude of his stare when you pulled the animal pelt he placed around you closer. Closer, Noa seethed softly at that, so close to you, on you… On… His thoughts came to a slow pause as he just viewed you again. You were clutching at the pelt, holding it closed against your chest.
Tameless thoughts hit the young Ape like a wave coming from the absolute silence his mind had previously been in. What it must feel like to have you hold him, what it must feel like to have Echo hand in his fur, pulling him closer, closer. He would beg you, scratch you, bite you if you pleased. If that’s what you wanted of him. Noa had no idea where this surge of ideology, of aggression came from but he did nothing to dampen it. Not when it felt so viciously good to indulge in. His lips parted, sharp canines glistening so delicately in the firelight as he hooted again, not loud enough to wake, but loud enough for him to selfishly remind you that he was there. Yes, yes yes… He chittered, moving side to side on all fours for a second before taking a sharp pace to the right and then back to the left before sitting properly next to you, solaced and draped deliciously as he stared at you. The absolute desire he had to perform such acts, such… Such vulgarity…
He couldn’t stop, he-he… Didn't want to.
Noa welled at that, revered it and felt a sense of accomplishment. You liked it! No, no, he hooted to himself so quietly, taking time to observe you again to confirm his thoughts. You were loving it. He had seen you in various states before. Embarrassed, angry, flustered, minorly injured, reminiscent, but this… Was beyond anything he had seen before. Something stirred inside of him as he sat back, now resting his body against a log for support so he didn't need to put in active thought into keeping himself up-right. He’d wait until you were awake enough, the decision was made, and let you know it was time to go back to your nest for the night. Just a few more minutes, Noa bargained with the most introspective parts of his mind, almost beaming with primal pride that he was able to keep you satisfied. You were vulnerable.
Seeing his nest for the first time. Your lips parted, slightly dry from the air that rolled around the quiet village. You couldn’t bring yourself to do anything as you stared at Noa who unwaveringly stared right back, waiting silently for an answer to a question just asked. But oddly, it felt like there was no question. Shock rocketed through you like you were being electrocuted. It started in your feet, feeling slightly numb before completely overtaking the rest of your senses. You felt blind, almost half tempted to put your hand out to touch something, you felt mute, a hard lump now sitting at the back of your esophagus and it felt like you would throw up if you tried to swallow it down, you couldn’t hear anything outside of your own breathing which made you feel even more isolated. It was hard and rigid, you were nervous and trying to hold it in but it was untimely and bursting at the seams. You knew that Noa noticed and he either didn't put much thought into your reaction to his six signed words. Had you just seen his signing right? Maybe he said something different and your eyes were playing tricks on you! In broad daylight.
Do. You. Want. To. Come. In.
Mentally, you slapped your forehead out of meager frustration. Why did you have to follow him all the way up the platformed structure? Why didn't you stop yourself like you always did? It was not a permission you gave yourself; to be anywhere near his personal space. You’d meet in communal spaces, or out in the field Noa favored. Never personal, never too close… You must not have noticed your feet transition from grass to dirt to wood. You were so transfixed on Noa who sauntered back to his nest to grab something he had forgotten, that you followed blindly. Physically, you raised your hands before dropping them in favor of actually talking. It was quiet and reserved, Noa noticed and he found himself pacing forward just a bit as he had a harder time hearing it, wood creaking as it settled under his weight.
“You want me to come in?” Your voice came to a tapering squeak but you tried your damndest to keep it under wraps. You should have signed, you dummy… Deep down, you knew that Noa had observed that but what you didn't know with any sort of confidence was that he was forcing himself to ignore that heat-skipping a beat feeling he’s been getting more frequently around you. “I don’t know Noa, that’s your home, I would…”
“I…” He started slowly before raising one hand to sign reassuringly, ‘I… would like you to.’ It was your turn for your heart to do that infamous skip a beat. Swallowing hard, you dug your heels into the wood platform below your feet to keep you from floating off at the idea. No! You snapped, it wasn’t just an idea… It was an opportunity that was now given to you, Noa metaphorically holding his hand out to see if you would reciprocate in any form. He was offering you inside, to see Noa’s nest. Where he slept, bided his time, enjoyed solitude when his Mother wasn’t around, when Anaya was getting on his nerves, when Soona was pestering him in her typical sisterly fashion… You figured the question begged was just Noa being accommodating. You figured him telling you that he would like you to was just his way of being polite. Figuring you would not be comfortable to wait outside for him, knowing more about you that you cared to admit in the moment.
If all things went according to how you wanted them to be, you’d jump on that chance. But, you found yourself pensively contemplating if you wanted to step over that metaphorical threshold, this one in the shape of an entryway. The one that landed right in the palm of Noa’s hand. You’d be a bald faced liar if you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t curious. Curling your fingers into your palms, you noticed that they were profusely sweaty. Would it be deemed rude if you denied him? If you said no, convince him you were fine waiting outside? You had no idea how he would perceive that, “Okay.”
Wait. What did you just say? Wait!
Your feet once again began moving without permission, gliding yourself right along Noa’s right side as he offered you to go on first, his hand gesturing repeatedly to the room. Quick in succession. There was no way he was excited, was there? The idea tickled your brain but you shoved it back and drew a deep breath in. From his perspective, Noa watched your rib cage expanding under the soft fabric of your shirt and then regressing back inwards slowly. Meditative breathing, he figured, to keep you calm.
There was nothing calm about this though. Your stomach felt like it was beyond the floor, now sinking deep underground, your ears pricked with anticipation. The fur on his bicep tickled at the bare skin of your arm, caressing and smoothing itself there as you were now shoulder to shoulder with him and you swore you felt his breathing against your neck when he glanced at you, counteractive to your own self soothing breaths. Hard, heavy and fast. Noa didn't know how to cover that up which was ironic because you were so convinced you managed to stave your nerves off.
You step over that threshold, you step over a line that was there for good reason. The rational part of your brain was so annoying.
You pushed yourself forward and with the blink of an eye you were inside. It was… Unremarkably remarkable. Nothing really popped at you, eyes processing through a darkened mess. Nothing in particular you noticed right off the bat, it was a dim lighting, the only two sources being a small fire pit that was begging to be put out, the pieces of wood small and frail, giving just enough energy to hold a mild orange hue and that of an opening to the right, reminiscent of a window of sorts lightly covered by a cloth. Sun peeped in and illuminated only enough to navigate and not pick apart any details. You smiled to yourself at that detail you were able to see. So, he did believe in privacy, why else have what you would consider a curtain? It wasn’t just an Echo thing like he so often pinned.
You shifted to the left and allowed Noa to enter right behind you. He was fast, hunching his body in on all fours, the pattering of his hands and feet entrapping you for a few seconds. He swept to the right, wanting to observe you in vague silence. In his space, green eyes narrowed as you stepped further in, your fingers coming up to touch a leather strap that was hanging against the wall. That was his hunting sheath, holding his spear against his back when out.
You were incredibly grateful as you felt your eyes adjusting to the lighting, able to see more details as you trailed along the left wall, almost as if you were afraid to actually dive further in. It smelt like Noa - Rich in flavors that teased your tongue. Trees surely, but trees bathed in sunlight in the late summer afternoons, smoke from the ashes of fires that burned endlessly, the absolute deepest part of the Earth that you could beckon… Shutting your eyes at that, you tried to document it somewhere in your mind. You needed to remember it, needed to recall this when you were alone later. Noa’s smell became so familiar, but being so near now, it was suffocating you and it threw an absolute chill down your spine.
Noa observed your fingers then raising, causing the Ape to perk up in baited anticipation of you saying something. Nothing came to fruition, but your fingertips were now held in animation against the feathers of his ceremony cloak, lightly placed on what appeared to be a small bench. It was splattered artistically with the blue feathers of the Eagles, the Falcons he had grown up with, admired. Friendly, you thought, with what appeared to be necklaces sitting right next to it, some with adjacent feathers to match the cloak, one holding a large engraved wooden pendant. It was so intricate and you felt the urge to run your fingers along the carved channels. All had been his fathers, tracing back several generations until it landed in Noa’s hands. Some of his most prized possessions. Hooting at that as if he were scolding you, fingers stopped touching around the feathers and you looked over at him, almost whipping yourself around, heart now jumping itself into your throat. He didn't mean to startle, but he just wanted to make you rightfully aware that what you were touching was a delicate garment. Your eyes told him you were sorry and so he allowed you to continue on.
You had turned your attention now to the tinker items he had stored. A few spear heads, some more dull than others, a few more tools that Noa frequented when something needed to be fixed. Against the wall next to his bench was an iron pipe, rusted from years of being exposed to nature. Fleetingly, you wondered why he kept it but didn't want to give off the impression you were judging him by asking why he did. Unbeknownst to you, he wondered so morbidly what you were thinking. Good or bad? Did you like it? Did you… Not…? Like his things? Noa couldn’t see your face, only your shoulders as you were turned away from him now, moving further into the room. Bad choice of sitting so far away from you, he thought to himself, scolding the immature mistake. He should have followed you around. Closer he was, the easier it was to see. He felt his fingers twitch as you came around and looked at his nest, queering it to be the next thing to inspect. Yes, please! Admire it. Say something about it! He yelled inside of his head. He wanted to ask you if you liked it, if you cared to share. If it was suitable.
Inappropriate to ask, Noa berated himself and sat back, realizing he had set himself in almost a pounce-like position.
Branches were spewed all over in a circular motion that tightly knitted itself as it got closer to the center, feathers from the eagles nestled deeply between thickets of animal pelts, some bigger than others. Rabbits, you noticed, maybe a fox as your eyes scored over a red hued pelt. One that was remarkably bigger than the rest; it had to have been a bear. Had he hunted it himself? You tilted your head and moved forward to get a better glance at it. It was a messy assortment and that felt strangely… Endearing. Noa was often quiet and reserved, not much to talk about himself he had told you, only answering your questions when he felt they garnered answers. You were getting more answers from this simple analysis of his nest than you had gotten with words before.
Noa remained silent, your body turning to face him as you were admiring, at least he hoped you were, his nest. His choice of pelts, his choice of comfort and security. You crouched down into a squatting position to get a better view at the nature of his nest. Taking in the smaller details that were resting there. Were you… repoaching him? He wondered with a tilt of his head. You had not said one word to him, did not raise your hand to sign. Did… Nothing. He did not know. He did not know what you were thinking. Frustration rose in him for a split second. He’d tear your head open just to know what you were thinking. Noa’s mouth popped into an open ‘O’ shape when he watched you place a hand on one of his animal pelts. He knew the outcome of that alone; it would smell like you and he was going to obsess about it when alone. He had something now, something personal, that held your scent.
You finally broke the silence and Noa felt a sheer force of relief hit him in waves, one after the other at each of your words, “Very Noa.”
Hm… His mouth fell, agape ever so slightly and you could see the glimmer of his canines as he caught the sun peeking through his make-shift curtain. His green eyes burned desolate holes into your own, Noa noting that you weren’t moving to break said eye contact. Carefully, he did so himself, afraid of some repercussions if he continued to look at you the way he was. Wrought with feral need. He forced himself back into the moment, back into what you said. Were your words an approval? It had to be, the tone of your voice was not aggressive, mean, passive… It was as gentle as he had heard it in a while, only recollecting once or twice that tone being used. Often, in conversations that were more affectionate than others. Rare, but Noa was familiar enough.
“Someday,” He rumbled, the sound of his voice pitching every which way as he was now scrambling to get his bearings. “Will share. With mate.” It had to have been your imagination to see him vaguely gesture to you at the word ‘mate’. Yup, just your imagination which was still running outlandishly wild at the prospect of where you were.. “With family. It is the way of the Eagle Clan.” You nodded, understanding that from previous conversations where he had opened up a bit more about his culture. The mere thought of him someday having a mate, a family, was a bit of a sting, but it wasn’t outside of the realms of reality. For the sake of the Eagle Clan, he eventually needed to provide an heir. And in order to do that, it required a mate. You'd lose him one way or another...
Noa looked over at you, enjoying the tentative feature that found your face. Noa crept a bit closer to you, trying to be as smooth as possible. Gliding is how he wanted to appear. Not to startle, not to intimidate but he wondered if you were by nature. After all, he was an Ape, you were human, together in a room with not any other creatures around. The absolute dissolution he could put you in, not knowing that you had the same power over him.
It was like he was stalking prey, you thought to yourself, Noa finally rounded the circular nest that you were still admiring. Or at least, pretending to admire as he placed his brooding body next to yours, crouching to the same level as to be face to face with him. His apparent scent only got stronger at that motion putting you into some brief tizzy. From the distance you found yourselves at, you could see the striking nature of his eyes in full force. Pupils were blown beyond comprehension, darkening only when he felt you tracing the features of his face. Around said pupils were a thin line of his regular green eyes, maybe a few specks of gold floating around. He was still child-like in some aspects, youthful was a better word. His brow ridge was strong, hereditary as he was always destined to be the leader of his Clan. Always destined to be the alpha. The swooping wrinkles under his eyes always gave the impression that he was tired, but being so close to him now, you saw them under hood eyes. He was begging silently.
His skin was varied in color; darker patches hitting his brow line, starting from his nose, upwards into his fur. There was a spot of normally colored skin on his nose, dipping in color when it met the fur on the sides of his face and around his chin. Very much like a human sporting a beard, you thought to yourself. The fur on his face was not completely shelled in darkness. It was remarkably lighter compared to that of his body and it accented his features perfectly in your mind. You lingered on his nose for a split second - never realizing it was shaped like a cartoon heart that you had seen in some children's books. Snapping your gaze up, you met his eyes again. Darker than they were before.
He was wearing an expression you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Not intimidation. You had seen your fair share of intimidated Apes. Not angry. Also have seen your fair share. It was almost… Like he was languishing. You wanted to know what his features felt like under your grasp… You wanted to hold his face closer to yours and consume… An animalistic bearing hit your chest. Without remark, you lifted your hand up, breaking no eye contact. Noa let it happen, seeing the movement out of his periphery. You were going to touch him, he prepared himself for that, all nerves standing on end. The fur lining his shoulders rose in eagerness, his mouth still agape was mumbling something wordless, soundlessly. You were going to touch him. He was certain his heart was going to climb out of his chest. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to hold onto his sanity. Noa preemptively shut his eyes.
Relief…
Never came.
Just as quickly as you decided to move forward, you were pulling back. Two steps, maybe even three. Noa squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before letting them open. You were gone, leaving nothing for him other than a pelt that smelt like you.
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chelseasdagger · 2 years ago
Text
Teacher
Frank Castle x Inexperienced F!Reader
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Summary: Frank's a part of your friend group and invites you to hang out one day, unaware of your massive crush on him. During the visit, you let it slip that you're very inexperienced, and he offers to teach you everything you've missed out on.
Warnings: age gap (reader is in her early 20s), mentions of sex, drinking, and smoking
Author's Note: Oh my god! It's finally here, my first fic series! I've had this idea for months now and I've finally got the courage to write it out and post it. I wanna say a huge thank you to @chellestrash and @suitsofwo3 for their continuous support on this series! Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated :) Leave a comment or shoot me an ask!! I'd love to hear what you think!
Word Count: 5k
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​​To say you had feelings for Frank Castle would be a gross understatement. It was truly nothing short of a schoolgirl crush, an all consuming infatuation that made you want him even more. Being anywhere near him made you feel like you were back in grade school with an uncontrollable flutter of butterflies in your stomach, and you knew you had to at least try and attempt to cease their movements.
But knowing and acting are two very different things, and you weren’t even sure if you wanted to stop them. Not when every smile he flashes your way makes them beat their tiny wings so fast that you feel weak in the knees. You knew logically it couldn’t end well, not with him being in your friend group, but you had a feeling you could keep up the friendly facade and not let it slip that your feelings for him are much more intense. 
After all, he’s confident, handsome, and much older than you. How hard could it be?
“How hard could it be,” you repeat, whispering to yourself in the car. Your eyes are trained on the road in front of you as you listen while your GPS navigates you through the city. Frank had invited you over to his place after the last get-together the group had, where you admitted to the fact that you hadn’t seen his, apparently, favorite movie from the ‘80s. It was almost too perfect of a setup and you curse the universe for planning it all. Of all the movies you haven’t seen, you had to confess to this one?
In your defense, it was nearly impossible to decline his offer when his charm flared up like it had that night. Boisterous laughter, crinkles by his eyes when he grinned, and a, “Come on, you’ve gotta see it!” that was so warm and welcoming it had you agreeing before you thought about the implications of that damn nod you gave him.
Thinking back on that night, you nearly miss your turn onto the road that leads to his apartment. You catch it just in time though and as the automated voice informs you that he lives on the left, the anxiety sets in. You begin to focus on your breathing and you find an open parking spot right next to his black van, exactly where he said there would be. Mentally thanking him for eliminating some of the pressure of finding where to park, you pull into the spot and look towards the door with the metal numbers of his address bolted on the plaque beside it.
Once the car is parked and the ignition is off, you close your eyes and inhale enough air until your chest puffs out. “It’s just Frank,” you reassure yourself, attempting to slow down your heart rate. It does little use as his face flashes in your mind when you speak his name, so you decide not to delay the meeting any longer.
With a dry mouth and fidgeting hands you make your way to his apartment, giving yourself one last full breath before raising your hand to knock on his door. Your knuckles sound out against the wood, and there’s only a second of silence before you hear a muffled, “Coming!”
The brief moment to plaster a relaxed smile on your face passes all too quickly and you’re suddenly met with Frank’s warm grin. Failing to ignore the way he’s leaning against the doorframe, you can’t help your eyes immediately glancing at his bicep as it stretches the fabric of his sleeve. You quickly force your gaze back to his face and give yourself a mental shake.
“Hey, kid, glad you could make it,” he greets you kindly. You’d be lying if you said the nickname he reserved for you wasn’t bittersweet. It made you feel special that it only left his lips in reference to you, but logically you knew it was because you were the youngest in the group. The truly bitter part was hearing it and feeling your heart sink that little bit lower; you wondered if he ever saw you as more, if you’d ever be able to satisfy your steadfast crush.
But those spiral sessions are best had at home, so you push away the thoughts and focus on spending time with him. All you’ve ever wanted was time alone with him and you’re not sure when you’ll get the chance again after today.
“Yeah, of course,” your genuine smile takes over, ”I had to see what all the fuss was about.” He chuckles at your joke before stepping aside, gesturing for you to come in. Squeezing past his body, you step into the living room of his home. It’s bigger than you expected, housing a sectional couch and wooden coffee table in the center. There’s also a large television mounted to the wall that’s clearly the main focus of the room. One sweatshirt and a lone blanket are draped on the back of the couch, making up the only clutter in the space. You don’t realize Frank is watching you take it all in until he gently clears his throat.
“Is it as glorious as you expected?” His voice sounds out from behind you and you turn to face him. There’s a smirk on his face and you find yourself chuckling to avoid shrinking into yourself.
“Just… different than I pictured is all,” you gesture vaguely to the open space of the room. There’s a scoff before he walks past you and towards the light grey couch.
“‘Clean’, you mean?” There’s a huff surrounding the question as he plops down onto the couch.
“Well…” you trail off, tilting your head to the side. A smile slowly takes over his face as you tease him.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he says as he pats the cushion of the couch. You follow his instruction, opting to keep one seat between the two of you. There’s a pause for a moment and you let your eyes wander to his thighs. His legs are slightly spread on the couch and it’s hard to ignore the way the fabric of his denim jeans are struggling to make room for the muscles of his thighs.
“So you really haven’t seen the greatest film of all time?” He begins again, disbelief clear in his tone. His voice makes your line of sight shoot back up to his face and it’s now your turn to wear a smile.
“You sure are creating a lot of hype for this movie. I hope it doesn’t disappoint,” you laugh softly. His eyes grow wide as a look of shock takes over his face.
“‘Disappoint’? You kiddin’ me? I’m pretty sure this movie paved the way for cinema.” He gets up excitedly, walking towards one of the thin bookshelves that frame the television. His fingers scan the titles quickly, trailing down the rows until he finds one. He pulls the case out from where it was sandwiched between the others before turning around to show it off with a wave of his hand.
“Made sure to rewind it for you yesterday.” You try to ignore the way your brain jumps to conclusions at those few words. The thoughts are loud, however, and you hear them despite your wishes. He really thought this ahead? Was he actually looking forward to seeing you?
Frank pulls the tape from out of its case and kneels down in front of the television. There’s a large, grey VCR lying on the ground and he gently pushes the tape past the small hinge, a tiny whirring sound escaping as it accepts the tape.
“God, I’m really showing my age here, aren’t I?” He nods towards the old technology on the wooden floor.
“I mean, I’ve seen my parents use them before,” you answer honestly.
“Jesus Christ,” he grumbles, bringing his palm to cover his face before dragging it down his cheeks. The giggle that escapes you is involuntary, he looks so cute each time you tease him. You love these moments and how effortless it is to joke around with him, unlike when your usually constant bashfulness is present. 
Once the tape is in, the static on the screen crackles to life and there’s a few seconds before the black fades into a dusty orange sky. As the opening scene begins to play, you feel like you recognize the actors’ names as they appear over the footage. Nothing immediately comes to mind though, so you ignore the nagging feeling of trying to place them and focus on the film.
That proves to be more difficult than you intended. Admittedly, all you can think about is his scent lingering in the space around you. It’s almost as if the couch is bathed in his smell and it feels as though you’re drowning in it in the best way. You halfway register the dialogue sounding out and decide to at least entertain the idea of paying attention. There’s a shot of the inside of an airport, and you watch as the word Diehard comes across the center of the screen. Chuckles erupt from you and Frank’s immediately turning to face you with a confused pout.
“You think Diehard is the greatest movie of all time?” Your words are unintentionally soaked in disbelief and you swear you can see his defensive guard come up.
“You tryna’ tell me it’s not?! Cause it’s clearly up there!”
“I don’t know, Frank,” you start. Each time the film is brought up around you, you hear that it’s either the best or it’s overrated. You just didn’t expect him to be this much of a fan.
“That’s right! You don’t know!” He seems proud of his argument and even laughs towards the end of his sentence. You shake your head as your smile begins to hurt your cheeks due to how long you’ve been wearing it for. He reaches for the old remote, its buttons faded with its age, and the screen halts to a stop as he presses pause.
“I’ll be right back,” Frank explains with a grunt as he pushes himself off of the couch. You turn and watch him walk to the kitchen, your eyes lingering on his broad shoulders and how they almost brush the open doorframe as he passes through it. Not wanting to let your thoughts continue any more down the path they’re already on, you force your attention back to the television and wait for him to return.
“Here you are,” his deep voice sounds out a moment later and you look up at him. He’s sitting down onto the couch cushion with the fingers of his right hand wrapped around the necks of two beer bottles. He stretches his arm towards you, offering one of the drinks and you’re distracted by the veins running up the inside of his forearm.
“What? S’there somethin’ wrong?” he asks confusedly, his own gaze glancing between your clasped hands and the bottles. You snap out of your trance and stare at the beers again, racking your brain for any excuse to use to decline the drink.
“No, thank you, I’m all good,” your voice comes out stiff. Real smooth, you curse yourself as you see Frank’s expression change. His eyebrows pull together as he tries to understand your sudden and strange behavior.
“So what’s your deal, huh?” he begins, setting the bottles down and leaning back into the couch. His entire body is turned towards you and it’s clear that you’re the new subject of the conversation. You swallow thickly, your nerves already acting up.
“Never seen you drink, never seen you smoke… Hell, I haven’t seen you do much of anything,” he continues, listing his examples off on each finger. “Why is that? You some goody two shoes or something?” he finishes with a raspy chuckle. He reaches for his beer, popping the lid off with the opener from the coffee table and taking a long sip as his eyes meet yours over the glass in his hand.
You wish you could come up with something, anything, to get you out of this situation before you’re forced to confess to him. You open your mouth, expecting your tongue to string the words together for you, but there’s nothing but silence in the room. Quickly, you begin grasping for an explanation, only to be left stuttering over your words. Frank’s eyebrows raise and there’s an amused smirk tugging at his lips as he puts his drink down again.
“Uh oh,” he laughs quietly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He squints at you, tilting his head to the side as his eyes flicker all around your face. “There’s somethin’ else there,” he whispers mostly to himself, “gotta tell me now, sweetheart.”
If none of this was enough to make your face grow warm, it certainly is now that you’ve heard the pet name leave his mouth. You feel as if you’re curling inward on yourself and you hate that the ground won’t show you mercy by opening up and swallowing you whole. Fidgeting with your fingers, you wonder if there’s any lie you can try and deliver confidently this time. But who are you kidding? You were never good at it, and it’s best to just rip off the bandaid.
With one last glance up at him, you see he’s not going to budge until he gets an answer, so you give him what he’s looking for. “Yeah, that’s… ‘my deal’,” you phrase his words in air quotes. “I haven’t really done, well, anything, and I don’t really know where to start,” you admit, still not looking him in the eyes. Frank nods as he lets your voice fill the air and you notice him making another curious face.
“When you say ‘anything’, what exactly do you mean?” he asks in a softer tone this time, no hint of teasing in his words. It’s then that you finally meet his brown eyes and see the kindness in their warm color. You bring in a deep breath and prepare yourself for the worst possible reaction to your following words.
“Um—,” you cut yourself off with a sigh, letting out all the air in your lungs and attempting to stall the embarrassment a moment longer. “Okay, like drinking, smoking, drugs…” you continue the list and watch him nod after each addition. “Never had sex, never—,”
“Bullshit,” his rumbly voice interrupts you, shaking his head in disbelief. The pout that forms on your lips is involuntary; you feared he wouldn’t have believed it, but you suppose it’s better than him teasing you. From the corner of your eyes you watch his lips part and his jaw go slack as he realizes what you said was the truth.
“Christ, you… you’re serious?” he questions as he looks at you in shock. You only nod silently, not sure how to continue from here. There’s a long pause where Frank is still as stone, remaining silent but seemingly trying to process the new information he’s discovered. The air feels so thick you worry that if you open your mouth to speak you’ll only choke.
The sound of a rumbly chuckle fills the air and you look up to see his wide smile. He’s dragging his palm down his mouth and rubbing his jaw as he shifts his hips forward and leans back into the cushions once more. You feel anger bubbling up and it quickly replaces the mortification that had been consuming you for the past few minutes.
“Screw you! I knew you wouldn’t have taken it seriously.” You cross your arms over your chest as you turn away from him. You felt stupid for sharing this with him, and now he has the audacity to laugh? Over something this personal?
“No, no, sweetheart, hey—,“ the pet name again does nothing to dull the burning under the skin of your cheeks. “I wasn’t teasing it’s just…,” he sighs heavily and shrugs his shoulders, “it’s a surprise, y’know?” 
As much as you want to stay upset with him, you’re not sure your resolve can last that long. You attempt to maintain your defensive position and don’t dare soften the angry glare you’re shooting at him.
“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he starts, but you don’t budge. “C’mon, I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting it, s’all. Kinda hard to believe, honestly.” Your head perks up at the last sentence and you shoot him a look of pure disbelief.
“Yeah, well… you’re obviously the only one who thinks that,” you mumble, the self-deprecating words falling past your lips before you even register them. Frank sighs deeply and you notice the way his eyes are flickering all around your face, presumably trying to gauge how upset you are.
“It’s not like I want this,” you huff, deflating into the couch, “but now it’s like even if I want to try stuff, I don’t know what I’m doing.” You begin picking at your fingers as the insecurity grows with his silence. “It’s like everybody did the crash course in high school and they have experience. I don't even know where to start…” As you trail off, the silence becomes deafening and you find yourself missing his laughter because at least that was something.
“Aaaaand I said too much. Sorry, it’s just something that’s frustrated me for years and… yeah,” you decide it’s better to end the conversation than wait on a reply that won’t come.
“You didn’t say too much,” he finally speaks up, and the weight on your chest begins to dissipate. “Was lettin’ you get it all out,” he explains. He holds his chin between his thumb and index finger, grazing his jaw lightly and tilting his head as he thinks over your confession. You find yourself subconsciously holding your breath as you prepare for the worst possible response he could give you.
“Said you didn’t know where to start, right? Why don’t we start with something small, hmm? How about that beer?” Frank nods his head once in the direction of the abandoned bottle he had grabbed for you. You eye it hesitantly and think over the worst that could happen. Coming up with virtually nothing, you nod back to him, deciding it would be one small victory to deal with today. 
As you wrap your fingers around the bottle, you raise your hand and turn to Frank. He mimics you, lifting his own in the air before clearing his throat.
“To…” he trails off, trying to come up with something as a cheer. His eyes drift off to somewhere else in the room, his lips parted as his eyebrows pull together. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you at his very serious thinking face. Not wanting him to hurt himself from racking his brain much longer, you speak up.
“To trying new things,” you say confidently, and the second the words leave your mouth you’re already regretting them. You physically wince at your word choice and now it’s Frank’s turn to stifle a laugh. “Yeah, that was pretty lame,” you admit to him. “Sounded better in my head.”
“Think it sounded perfect,” he replies before tilting his bottle towards you. You follow his lead as he brings the drink to his lips and you don’t think twice before tilting your own head back. The second the flavor hits your tongue you can feel your face scrunching up involuntarily. You bring the bottle away immediately and your lips purse at the taste in your mouth. Frank’s laughter rumbles out deep from his chest and you watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows it down with no reaction. 
“Attagirl, one thing down. That wasn't too hard now was it?” he speaks once he’s brought the glass bottle away from his mouth. Thankfully, the nasty beer is enough to distract you from reacting to his praise.
“You didn’t tell me it tasted like piss!” you exclaim, wiping your mouth off with the back of your hand.
“This is actually one of the good ones,” you watch as he takes another swig. “But you’re right, it’s not all that great,” he admits before licking his lips and looking at you.
Any residual awkwardness you felt only moments before has all but vanished and you feel comfort just being here with him. You smile softly to yourself as you brush your thumb along the curved glass of the neck of the bottle.
“Thank you for this,” you speak up, “it feels nice to get something crossed off the list.”
“Any time, kid,” his voice is raspy and you try to dissuade your stomach from doing flips at his tone.
The smile on your face grows wider in the silence, feeling a small amount of pride bubbling in your chest knowing that you tried something new. It doesn’t seem like such a big feat once you’ve climbed over the hill, but there’s always been that fear that keeps you paralyzed and unable to even attempt to move forward. You truly meant your words, you’re thankful that he gave you that little push.
“Y’know, I could help… with the list, I mean.” You’re almost certain you’ve never felt your heart beat quite this hard before. Frank waits until your eyes have locked with his before he speaks slowly, carefully chooses his words as he continues. “O-Only if you want, obviously. Just… said you wish you knew how to do it the first time, right? So it wouldn’t be such a big deal?” You hesitantly nod, still not wanting to assume what he’s proposing until he explicitly says it.
“Yeah, so I figured we could have you practice? Make sure you know what you’re doing before you get out there,” he ends his sentence with a shrug, as if it’s the most nonchalant offer.
“What?” you desperately try to ignore the way your words shake slightly. “Like you’d teach me?” You can’t even help the incredulous tone your words are soaked in. You can hardly even fathom the idea of Frank Castle being the one to show you the ropes, much less actually acting those things out with him.
“Yeah? If that’s alright?” He smiles gently and you feel your body beginning to relax some. “Just… I saw how much it meant to you and I wanna help,” he explains further, and you swear you’ve never seen sincerity like the way it’s shining in his warm, brown eyes.
You swallow thickly as you think over his proposition. It feels like this is some sort of dream; you’re waiting for your alarm to ring out as your vision slowly fades, waking up in your bedroom alone. But no amount of pinching your skin will rip you from this moment. It feels too good to be true, but it’s happening regardless. He’s waiting on an answer and it’s honestly the best offer you could think of being handed to you on a silver platter.
“And hey, you absolutely don’t have to say—”
“Yes,” you finally decide. You can’t even believe you said it.
“You sure?” he asks again, his eyes flickering between your own. You think it’s sweet how he tries to make sure you’re certain of your decision. You smile widely as you nod at him, the butterflies returning to your stomach once again.
“Also, we don’t, like, have to have sex… just so you know. I know that’s a lot, but I can help with the stuff leading up to it?” You grin and nod again and Frank laughs lightly at your response. “Just wanna make sure you’re comfortable with it.”
“I am! I’m just excited, sorry,” you fidget with the hem of your shirt in an attempt to channel all the newfound energy elsewhere. Frank’s chuckle grows louder and you wonder if you imagined the soft “cute” that was muttered under his breath.
“So…” he speaks up and you turn to face him completely. “How would you feel about crossin’ something else off the list?” You nod immediately as all the nervousness from before switches to excitement while it courses through you.
“Okay…” he laughs softly at your quick reaction. “Let’s see,” he pauses for a moment as he thinks before his eyes light up with an idea. “You ever been kissed?” You feel the familiar shyness creeping up again, but you choose to push it back down. Instead, you just softly shake your head and watch as he nods in understanding.
“You want to try it?” he asks, his lips curling into a smirk. You hum an agreement and watch as he moves a bit closer to you on the couch. Once again you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for this to be some sort of joke. But Frank only waits for you to take the initiative to close the space between the two of you.
Now that you’re facing each other on the couch, you can feel your heart pounding against your ribcage as you wait for him to make the first move. He smiles reassuringly before raising his hand and cradling the side of your neck. His thumb brushes your cheek as his long fingers curl around the back, holding you gently in place.
“You sure you want this?” he confirms. Again, you nod eagerly.
“I gotta hear you say it, sweetheart. That’s my rule,” he explains.
“Oh…” you whisper as you glance between his eyes and his lips, “yes.” You feel your heart swelling at the fact that he wants to make sure you truly want what he’s offering. His eyes are fixed on your mouth, muttering one last, “Okay,” before leaning forward.
The second his lips touch yours, you’re surprised at how soft they are. He’s gentle with his movements and softly sucks your lower lip between his own. It only takes a moment for you to kiss him back, careful to only mimic his actions and still let him lead. The kiss is warm and sweet and you feel the blood rushing through your cheeks and tingling down your neck. His thumb catches your bottom lip and pulls it down slowly, breaking the kiss. Frank breathes gently as he licks his lips, his eyes flickering between yours.
“How was that?” he asks, his breath fanning over your mouth as he speaks.
“It was good. I-I liked it,” you smile sheepishly, subconsciously pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to savor the feeling.
“Yeah?” he tilts his head as the question leaves his mouth, his eyes squinting as he glances from your eyes to your mouth. You once again nod before you even think to do it.
“Alright, now I wanna give you a real one.”
“A real one?” you pout and stare at him confusedly.
He only smirks before leaning forward again, pressing his lips to yours harder. This time, his palm guides your jaw to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss. The stubble lining his jaw scratches at your cheeks, and the prickling has you melting under his touch. You try your best to keep up, but his scent feels like it’s truly suffocating you now; you can hardly kiss him back with how overwhelmed you are. The next thing you register is the wet heat of his tongue brushing along your bottom lip, slowly tracing the shape before he pushes it inside your mouth. His tongue glides against your own and there's a small moan that escapes from your throat.
All too soon his lips leave yours and you open your eyes at the loss of contact. Frank’s own eyes are still shut and you watch as he clenches his jaw, almost as if he’s holding himself back from something.
“Are you okay?” you ask gently, worried you messed up somehow.
“Yeah… just, that was the sweetest god damn thing I’ve heard.” His voice is so deep it sends a shiver down your spine. Out of all the times you’ve dreamt of having your first kiss, you never thought it would’ve been that good. And to think, an impulse decision to watch a movie with him led you to this plan to gain experience. You find yourself already missing the feeling of his tongue, of the scratch that his stubble gave when he deepened the kiss.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” he knocks your knee softly with his own, attempting to grab your attention. “You’re being too quiet.”
“I just, well, I wanna do it again,” you admit, looking away nervously. In one sudden motion Frank tugs you into his lap and you yelp as you wrap your arms around his neck. He laughs softly as he stares up at you but doesn’t waste a second before kissing you even quicker than before. There’s only a few chances you can take to catch your breath because he hardly breaks the kiss. You never thought someone as attractive as him would want to kiss you this much, but confidence rushes through your body as his affection continues.
Frank’s mouth begins to wander, his lips finding new space that had otherwise been untouched. The corner of your mouth, your chin, your jaw—he never stops kissing you until he gets to your throat. From there, his lips part and he begins sucking on your neck. A shaky gasp leaves you as his teeth make purchase on your skin, softly biting before brushing his tongue over the mark.
“Done two new things,” he mutters, his lips moving around the words but never leaving your body. “How’s it feel?”
“I really like this,” you say breathlessly as you feel his teeth gently graze the sensitive skin of your neck. He hums into your throat, the vibration setting your skin alight before you finish your thought, “You can keep the beer though.”
Frank’s chuckle gets caught in his throat, resulting in the cutest snort you’ve ever heard. He presses soft kisses along your collarbone and looks up at you with sweet, brown eyes.
“Sure, kid, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
1K notes · View notes
thedivineden · 9 months ago
Text
Thin Ice
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Summer Olympics Collab w/ @tetzoro
pairing: gojo satoru x reader
genre: smut
words: 5k+
notes: dubcon, enemies, breeding, jujitsu kaisen au!figure skaters, slight mentions of sexual harassment from Gojo, obsession, controlling behaviors, jealousy, drugging, peer pressure, slight manipulation,
AN: I had so much fun writing this, you should see the notes I scribbled at work because we’re not allowed to have our phones! Thank you so much @tetzoro for allowing me to be apart of this lovely event. ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊
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You and Gojo Satoru have been competing against each other since the day you were placed in the same class at nine years old. He was favored due to his family standing within the figure skating community but you had raw, unfiltered talent which shook him and his family to their core. Despite all your talent, he’s managed to win almost every single competition. You’d bet big money that it had to do with his family status but you don’t upset the balance until you’re both picked for the Olympics.
And boy were you fuming. “I ALONE have went through hell and back to be where I am whereas he gets placed just because of his family name! It’s preposterous Shoko!” you’ve been ranting to your coach for an hour about the competition; how you didn’t believe that he deserved to be here and wish you didn’t have to compete along side him. “That spoiled brat doesn’t have a INCH of talent in his bones even if it was injected with a needle!”
“Aw do you really hate me that much? I thought we were friends?” You turn to the door to see the lanky white haired man standing against its frame smiling down at you. “Friends? Satoru please, you know I never enjoyed your company now leave. I’m having a discussion with MY coach or are you wanting to take her away from me too?” Shoko stifled a small laugh and stood up. “Gojo, don’t stress my prodigy out. What do you want?”
Gojo never took his eyes off of you; he saw your annoyance as just another game. You roll your eyes and say, "Well, I was just coming to check on my favorite figure skater but I don't think she was to see me." Despite your request to go, Gojo slips into your room and envelops you in his arms. "I'll break all ten of your toes in five seconds if you don't get off of me."
Gojo chuckles at what you've said because he adores your fierce personality and is confident that you will follow through. You lost a tournament at 15 after he "jokingly" slapped your behind for taking first place and your only recourse was to throw your ice skate at him. His parents complained to the judges and got you disqualified.
You were more concerned about scuffing your brand-new Eden Piano ice skates than you were about the blade nearly striking him. You could feel his breath on your ear as he said, "Aw, must you struggle so much, you know you love it, and I know you love me, why don't we meet up later? My room?” You're furious now and shove him away from you. You're about to charge at him when Shoko, sporting her signature side grin, stands in between the two of you.
“Shall we maintain the calm? Alright, sweetie?” The man behind her laughs audibly, saying, "Yeah, sweetie! Let's maintain harmony.” Even though you were angry, you wouldn't allow him or anybody else to sour your mood. "Shoko, you're right; I won't have to deal with him for very long. After the Olympics, I'm heading to Brazil, and I have no intention of returning to Tokyo.” That touched a nerve; your coach's gasp indicates to Gojo that she was equally clueless. You had no idea that your remark had the man fuming.
You? Leaving? The young man finds just such idea absurd. Ever since he first saw you in class, you have been everything to him. You were not impressed with Gojo's antics, even if he is accustomed to getting his way. No matter how many pranks and tricks he performed or how many gifts he put in your locker, his efforts were consistently disregarded.
The man continued to essentially harass you every day despite your denial. He would make harsh remarks about your body, clearly taking care to point out that you are curvier than all the other figure skaters in the class or that your ass is "so massive that you might tip over," which would ultimately be the undoing of you. You could not care less, and all he wanted was the thrill of having your undivided attention.
Gojo needed and desired you more than anything else, and this only made his fixation worse. Without saying anything more, the young man left the room, leaving Shoko to ask all the relevant questions and provide the information later. He's going to make sure that you remember him forever.
It took hours for the two of you to be back together again. You were seated close to each other for the opening ceremony. The opening ceremony typically features the entrances of the head of state or other official of the host nation as well as the president of the International Olympic Committee. The national anthem and flag are then raised and played. Then the tournament started.
You have a strong passion for figure skating, and when you're on the ice, it feels remote. Nothing could distract you from your quest for excellence in each trick, flip, and turn. Everyone in the stadium is quiet, appreciating your stunning appearance and captivating performance. Your candid feelings convey a tale of bereavement.
You jump off the backward outside edge on one foot, using your toe pick to help you get airborne, then use your other leg to reach across your body and back to pick into the ice. Gojo is an enormous admirer of your performances and would do anything to spend time on the ice with you.
You were actually quite flexible, as required by the biellmann spin. You spin on one foot, stretching the other leg behind you and above your head to make the shape of a teardrop, and Gojo is staring at you in astonishment. You release your leg and step off the ice again. You can turn the odds in your favor with just your pure resolve.
You release everything forward, shift your entire weight on your takeoff left leg, raise your arms, and release your right leg back at the same moment of takeoff. At first, it looks like a typical axel leap, but in order to complete the trick, you have to make four and a half rotations in the air. When you land perfect, everyone in the stadium goes crazy. Gojo was aware of the announcers' adoration for your flawless quadruple axel.
Interviewers are waiting in line to chat with Japan's figure skating prodigy as soon as you step off the ice. Gojo heard all of the inquiries: "Wow, it was incredible! "How long have you been practicing your quadruple axel?" "How long have you been training?" and "Do you ever see yourself performing routines in pairs with?" You were brisk even off the rink, graciously and enthusiastically responding to every inquiry.
Gojo is the next to go, but not before he interacts with you. "Looks like you're going for the gold, but we all know who's really taking it home." Your smile quickly disappears and is replaced by a frown. "If you already know you're the winner why are you trying so hard to convince yourself that I'm not?" You grin again and walk past the gaunt man before he can respond, heading toward Shoko.
God, you made him so hard.
Despite what you previously stated, Gojo is without a doubt the greatest for Japan, and his mesmerizing methods are hard to ignore. Every now and then, Gojo stretches out his palm and takes a tiny step forward, sliding across the icy rink with effortless ease. Not long after he picks up speed, he throws his right leg over his head and balances on his left foot. He spread his arms, almost making a T or possibly a K. Gojo never fails to demonstrate to his own nation and the rest of the world that he was a showman in addition to a prodigy.
He swung his body in fluid motions, bending his knees. He was able to move down the rink more quickly and farther as soon as both of his skates were facing in the same direction and parallel to one another. Watch as the man launches himself and lands on the back outside edge of the opposing foot. You see him use his free leg to assist with the takeoff. Gojo starts off across the rink once more; he has the appearance of a swan on a quest. Despite his solemn expression, he manages to pique the audience's interest by molding his face to suit his intended message.
Your thoughts are interrupted by a tap from another skater. "Hi!"You're — correct? The most beautiful man you have ever seen is revealed when you turn around. "Yes I am and you are?" Your smile was enough to break any man's heart, and it certainly broke Gojo's. His eyes caught you talking to the low-level figure skater during his back bend. To get your attention, Gojo slowly lifts his body upward while making sure to circle close to you.
You paid no attention to anything, not even when the crowd chanted his name. He saw you gazing passionately at the man, touching him, and grinning during his performance. He'll make sure that everyone is aware of your connection. Interviewers swarm Gojo as he emerges from the ice, asking him questions about the tournament, his emotions, whether he predicted Japan would win, and what he loves best about the Olympics.
He took great pleasure in watching you, even though you were hostile toward you. He enjoys watching you on the ice and knows that all of these eyes will be able to see and appreciate your beauty and brilliance, even if that's not a suitable answer to the question. “I had fun watching my girlfriend accomplish a quadruple axel on the ice, going above and beyond the norm!” The interviewers are going crazy over the exclusive insider information that Japan's Olympic candidates are a couple! “I'm very proud of her!”
“How long have you two been together?”
“Could you two come on my show to give more information about your relationship and experience in the competitive skating world?”
“Do you plan on marrying her?”
Gojo has a broad smile, but it widens when he notices you approaching from the corner of his eye. He ensured that there would be enough disturbance to draw in people from a 50-mile radius. He quickly puts his arm around your waist to hold you close once you are arms length apart.
He undoubtedly knows that you are extremely conscious of your appearance and would never intentionally make a fool of yourself in front of thousands of people. "Hello my darling, don't you want to tell them about how our love blossomed?" Even though you're terrified, you swiftly avert the interviewers' attention to the man by saying that he always tells story better than you. He makes fun of you and tells a made-up tale of jealousy, hate, and love. Gojo lets the interviewer know that you two are deeply in love, plan to be married, and want to start a family.
He knows when you get uncomfortable in his arms and knows it's time to finish the interview and express gratitude for the interviewers' time. Curses fly from your mouths towards Gojo the moment you two are out of earshot. You attempt to escape his hold, but it's firm and powerful, and he won't let go until he proves that you are his.
Because he would be pressed for time, he had everything set up before the competition day. After his performance, he asked to have a car ready for him so he could take you to the Olympic village, to his room, and finally to his bed. You sound even more enraged now that you're practically yelling at him.
“Are you out of your fucking mind? Why in the hell would you tell them that?”
"I just want you to realize how much I adore you, now hush and enjoy." Gojo hurries you into the back of the tinted Range Rover, entering on the left side. He signals the driver to shorten the route and closes the partition — his hand finds contact too high on your thigh and his look is exceedingly strained. "I'm not your enemy but you treat me like one, why?"
You chuckle and roll your eyes at his assertion, "You've been tormenting me since we were seven, and you think I have no reason to want you away from me?" When you look at him, his expression is one of perplexity. Torment? I used to put gifts in your locker, and from what I remember, you threw them out." Your face flushed from the accusation. "Well, I'd have kept them if you hadn't said anything about my physique. "Everyday, you said something demeaning which encouraged other people to say hurtful things. Now you all are in my shadow, I’m winning the gold ."
You turned to face Gojo and said this with the biggest smile on your face, but as soon as you saw the tear streaming down his hot cheeks, your smile fades. "What's wrong, you?" Even with a hint of worry in your voice, your countenance suggests dissatisfaction. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize, but I'd like another chance." In all honesty, Gojo doesn't give a damn about earning your favor. All he wants is what any man would want.
To win.
Gojo makes sure to be the ultimate gentleman as he ushers you out promptly as the car arrives at the village. When he offers his hand to help you out of the car and opens the compound door for you, he can see you're nervous and cautious because you pause. To be honest, you felt anxious at every turn, and when Gojo came up behind you, his arm clasped tightly around your waist. You didn't know why you two were at the compound without your coaches, or what he wanted, but you weren't enjoying it.
When he arrives at his room, he stops at the entrance and looks at you intently. "I set everything up for you because I want you to know how special you've been to me," he says as he opens the door. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla greets you, along with the sight of candles and petals scattered on the corridor floor. Gojo releases his hold on you as his hand travels to your lower back and softly presses you inside his room.
Although your instincts are going haywire, the environment appears in the opposite way. When you step fully into his room the corridor floor is only the tip of the iceberg. Gojo, rather, the person he hired to arrange the space, created a lavish pallet on the floor and surrounded it with a heart made of flowers. accompanied by a bouquet of flowers and a selection of finger appetizers. There are images of you from previous competitions, including ones where you lost, hanging on the walls with the term winner printed on them.
"Do you Iike it?" The pleasure on his face is palpable. In a normal situation, you would do anything to erase Gojo Satoru’s smile, but right now, it would be bittersweet. The amount of work he put in is both sweet and a little alarming, given that several of the images on display were taken when he was alone himself in the booth. You feel the silence begin to take on an unsettling note, so you turn to nod your head at the man, a small grin on your lips.
“Sit down, try the foods. I’ll be back with drinks!” Gojo disappears down the corridor and out the room door leaving you and your rapid heart alone. Thoughts were swirling in your head.
You could just leave.
What does all of this mean? I mean he did give you gifts when you were kids but you just chalked it up to him trying to buy you and throw you off your game.
Does he actually like you? Could it have been your announcement about you leaving?
You sit down on the pallet allowing your weak legs to rest and distract yourself with the white chocolate covered strawberries. Halfway through the patch and uncontrollable anxiety, Gojo comes in with a drink tray with two bottles of martell cognac l'or de jean and two glasses. “I see you enjoyed the strawberries, I made the beef yakitori but you have to try it with the miso ranch” he places the tray on the pallet and sits extremely close to you.
You take a seat on the pallet, allowing your ailing legs to relax, and use the strawberries coated in white chocolate as a distraction. Gojo enters with a drink tray with two glasses and two bottles of Martell Cognac L'Or de Jean halfway through the patch and uncontrollably anxiousness. He lays the tray on the pallet and sits quite close to you, saying, "I see you enjoyed the strawberries. I made the beef yakitori but you have to try it with the miso ranch." He picks up a piece of beef and dips half of it in the homemade ranch.
“Open” you look at the man as if he grew three head and laugh. You try to take the meat, saying, "I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself," but Gojo pulls his hand back and gives you a stern look. Without a second thought you open your mouth to allow the man to feed you. Not only did you let him feed you once but the whole plate of beef along with the miso ranch.
Surprisingly, the beef is really soft, and when mixed with the miso ranch, it is exquisite. Gojo fed you the trend of white meal options, asking you what you thought of whatever he served you next and ensuring you finished at least half. You attribute it to his big ego, and he is still making whatever this is about himself, albeit in a minor way.
You begin to feel lighter, and your discussion with him has become comfortable, flirtatious even. Only when he places his hand on your thigh does your body react.
Your face is now hot, your mind is muddled, and his hand rubbing your thighs makes you want him to move his hand up higher under your skirt. You clear your throat and remind yourself who you’re with. "So, why did you actually do this? I didn't expect Gojo Satoru to be romantic” he hasn't taken his gaze away from you, but appears to be getting closer.
“Because you’re leaving and I know I won’t be able to stop you but I want to give you something to think about while you’re 17 thousands miles away.” It's the first time you've truly appreciated his appearance; he has subtle muscular physique. His lips appear smooth and plump, while his jawline is sharp. And his eyes? Women who testified about losing themselves in his gaze weren’t lying.
As your stare deepens, Gojo notices and seizes the opportunity to slide his hand up your leg and under your skirt. You pretend not to notice the precarious situation you've placed yourself in. Truthfully, all you want is for him to be beneath your skirt, to slide your panties to the side, and finger fuck you. Despite your increased heart rate and anxiety you don't stop him.
"Strip for me, princess," and your body becomes frigid instantly, making you appear almost ashamed. His eyes narrow as he leans in to whisper to you how much he wants you, how amazing you are, how he put this whole thing up for you, and how he begs you not to waste this lovely night. “You’re the one who let me put your hand up your skirt, don’t you want it?” You started to stammer and your pussy's heartbeat is becoming unbearable, but are you going to let this man defile you after he has attempted to humiliate you and make you feel inferior?
Gojo rolls his eyes and scoffs at your apprehension He starts to stand up, but your hand catches his arm and stops him instantly. "No, I think I want—" Before you can even finish speaking, Gojo covers you with his lips and hands. His thin fingers are hurrying through your clothing, admiring every inch of your body and snapping a mental image of your exposed breasts and pussy. His touch is light but frenzied and every kiss feels like it’s scorching your skin leaving an imprint on you.
Your body reacts beautifully to him which makes him hungry for you. Gojo is above you, staring down at you as you lie flat beneath him. Your gaze is locked on him, as though you're trying to assert your power and take charge of the circumstance in an effort to look less desperate and eager. He smiles and ask how much do you want it— with a cunning look on your face, you glare at him and repeat his question. The young man chuckles at you and pushes your legs apart by swiping his palm behind them.
Once your legs are spread, Gojo places his face close to your pussy, basking in its magnificence. "Is all of this for me?" He says before swiping his tongue through your slit. Your legs snap without warning, but his grip keeps you immobile. He revels in your flavor, the way your body heats up, and the way you try to hide your pleasure in your . This time, he didn't want to come up for air; he wanted to be buried in your wetness and hypnotized by your moans.
Your skin feels as like it is being scorched by every kiss and lick to your clit and hole. Gojo commands you to hold your legs up so he can stick two fingers into your dripping hole and curls them to give you the most ecstasy possible. He may be selfish, but he's definitely not when it comes to pleasure. You abandon your position to position your legs on his shoulders and tangle your fingers in his snow-white hair.
"Gojo~ I need- my head..I can't," you say as your legs start to tremble and your eyesight becomes white from the pleasure that has been building up. “You can take it princess, just hold on a little longer for me” he knows that he won’t stop until you've created a mess; you begin to urge the young man to stop so you can regain your breath, but he doesn't hear you at all. He looks up at you with his bright blue eyes and hums at the sight.
You have a face of pure bliss, your eyes are closed and your hair is starting to stick to your sweat covered body. Gojo has an unrelenting pace — you could do nothing but focus on releasing yourself on his blessed fingers. All he can hear after coming up is your ragged breathing which forms a smile on his face. “I would ask you how everything was but I can see you thoroughly enjoyed yourself”
“You fuck like a virgin who just got some for the first time.” Gojo smile is immediately wiped off his face. You sit up on your elbows but he pushes you back down and pulls out his angry throbbing member. “A virgin huh? Let me lose my virginity with you then” without warning he slides himself through your gummy walls. Now hovering over you, Gojo uses his hands to push one leg up and bend the other to your side. His face is beet red and you can tell he’s enjoying himself more than you are right now.
You want to fuck him, you can’t deny how he has you begging for him to move, yet everything feels forced in your mind. As your face starts to well up with tears, he notices and bends in to get near to your ear. "Aw, don't cry, I'll make it all better, okay?" you nod your head, and he replies "good girl.”
As much as he loves to tease you, he can no longer control himself. Although he intentionally uses deep, languid strokes, the louder your moans the quicker he thrusts into you. He's been saying in your ear all along how gorgeous, wet, and tight you are. How ever since he met you, he's been dreaming of this and wants to be the one man who can win your approval.
You become this lustful shell of yourself that just wants him to consume you, and everything begins to feel like an out-of-body experience. You cry out in desperation for him to go deeper and use you till he is unable to. When he lets go of your legs, you encircle them around his torso while wrapping your arms around his neck forcing his face into your neck.
Your mind is foggy and all you can think about is using your legs to drive him inside of you and lock him in place as Gojo takes advantage of this opportunity to leave as many markings on your neck as possible, intensifying the pleasure you're experiencing.
The young man is breathless at your actions and he makes a mocking tone saying you’re a desperate slut aren’t you? how about I give you something to remember me by”. He lifts his body up untangling your legs from his torso placing both of his palms behind your knees to extend them to the sides of your head, you whine at the lack of contact but he calms your hunger by pounding into you. Even if the action took you by surprise you start to moan and praise the man for fucking you so well.
The young man is breathless at your actions and remarks in a mocking manner, "You're a desperate slut, aren't you?" What if I gave you something to carry me with you forever? You whine at the absence of contact as he lifts his body up and separates your legs from his torso, extending both of his palms behind your knees and push them to the sides of your head. Gojo slams into you stifling your hunger. Even if the action took you by surprise, you start to moan and praise him for fucking you so well.
His climax happens quickly when you mutter, "I-I may just stay for you," in a breathless manner. He closes his eyes in an effort to continue for as long as possible considering he feels his balls getting tight. He desires to relish each instant spent within you, the way your walls enclose him, the firmness with which your hands clasp his arms, and the volume with which you utter his name. Gojo leans back toward you abruptly, giving you a passionate kiss and cums inside of you. Though you're mentally panicking out about the lack of protection, you quickly forget about it as he releases your hold on your limbs and turns you onto your tummy, telling you to lift your ass.
"That fat ass has to get love too, princess, don't be shy." Your embarrassment is the only reason for the heat that is starting to appear on your face. He scoops you up by your hips and slams into you, rolling his eyes at your hesitancy. He is aware of your sensitivity, but you wouldn't be aware of Gojo's struggle to endure the pain in order to prolong this time. Your ass jiggling with each thrust has him spellbound, and as he slides out of you to slam into you again, his dick is drenched.
At this moment, your pussy is hurting and you're crying, but the heatbeat is becoming worse. Then it dawns on you that he is the only one who can stop the excruciating feeling underneath. Your mind is immediately repulsed by the idea. Gojo Saturo, of all people, fucking you senselessly is shameful, but the young man wipes that notion away as soon as it occurs by grabbing your hair with one hand and playing with your clit with the other around your waist.
You were too high and fucked out to realize that Gojo had taken the remote and turned on the television before seizing you. You were so overstimulated that your legs were trembling, and your tears were blurring your vision. "Gojo, please, I just can't handle it any longer." The teleprompters are now announcing the male single winners, “Just let them announce the winners pretty, if you win I’ll give you a present okay?”
Your body became heavy and you can feel your thighs become wet from your climax and hear his win being announced. All he could hear from you now is sobs begging him to give you a second, this is what he wants, for you to break down on his dick. It goes without saying that Gojo takes home the gold, he saw the camera move to his coach; who was very upset over his absence and had a stone-cold expression on his face.
He didn’t want his movements to be soured by the display and leans his head back in bliss. He’s beyond sensitive and doesn’t want you to see the tears coming out of his eyes to. Not only did he win literally but he’s achieving his life long goal of ruining you. His next words are winded, “make sure you come back in nine months for your next present princess.”
Leaning his head back in delight, he didn't want the event to ruin his moves. His sensitivity is immense, and he would prefer that you not see the tears welling up in his eyes. Not only has he literally won, his lifelong ambition to ruin you has been achieved. He continues, "Make sure you come back in nine months for your next present, princess," in a taunting manner.
You continue to sob as Gojo bullies your overworked cunt, cumming again coating your tantalizing walls in white. He lets you go and once you hit the pallet your world goes black. Waking up you notice the space around you is pitch black, you attempt to get up and survey the surroundings but your body is incredibly sore.
You sob on and on as Gojo abuses your overworked cunt and once more covers your alluring walls in white. After he lets you go, you strike the pallet, and everything goes dark. When you wake up, you discover that the space is pitch black. You want to stand up and take in your surroundings, but your body hurts so much. From your head to in between your legs, you look and feel around for a light or at least your phone.
You jump back and scream as soon as you feel warmth and skin when you reach to your left. Your head is throbbing and you try to recollect the last few hours, but when you discover you can't, it just makes you feel more anxious. You stand up despite the fact that your legs are weak and sprint to the closest corner to make yourself appear smaller. Your final recollection is leaving the ice and talking with the interviewers. Besides that, you don’t know where you are, why you’re naked and who that is laying next to you.
“Why are you yelling princess, it’s late.”
Princess? When you hear the voice, your blood starts to boil, and you start to remember what transpired. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! GOJO SATORU YOU WAKE THE FUCK UP AND TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED," the man gets out of the duvet and moves across the room to turn on the light. He can't stop laughing when he sees you in the corner. "Princess, get up. I got you something."
The man walks to the nearest dresser, throws you in the shorts and shirt, and walks to the bathroom, seemingly unaffected by your outcry. It's amazing how calm someone can be when he's clearly done you some harm. But you get dressed immediately, grab your stuff from his room, and run out of there. "You sick bastard, I hope you know that I'm going to the authorities." A flurry of flashes from microphones and cameras jammed against your face greets you as soon as you open the door.
Questions about why you were in Gojo's room, whether you were actually unwell or if you skipped the rest of the competition to spend time with him, and why you were leaving in his clothing suddenly burst out of the seemingly small gathering. The sensation of his arms enveloping you, his naked chest resting on your back, and his murmur in your ear, "Gold winning Olympian misses her win to share intimate time with her new boyfriend," further intensifies your feelings of overwhelm. “I believe that is a catchy headline.”
Gojo got what he wanted, attaching you to him forever, hopefully in more ways than one.
221 notes · View notes
penvisions · 5 months ago
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return the favor {chapter 25}
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Pairing: Post-Outbreak! Joel Miller X Smuggler! Reader
Summary: Your intentions are to spin a web of lies to protect Ellie, but Marlene doesn't seem to mind and is willing to trade one body for another. Her righteousness knows no bounds and you realize she's set her sights on you.
Word Count: 5k
Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, cursing, insults, blood, minor injuries, fighting, physical fighting, guns, use of guns, minor character death, end of the world politics, end of the world rhetoric, misplaced heroism and hope, degrading language, marlene needs her own warning, talk of infection, talk of infected people, cordyceps is scary, reader is described as having red hair, reader has a nickname, please let me know if i missed any!
A/N: this was so fun to write, i hope y'all are ready for the last stretch. these two mean so so so incredibly much to me, which i will gush about in each chapter and the epilogue notations from here until the end. this is where the fic gets away from canon a lil bit but it's all for the best, please believe! love y'all
ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi
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“I can’t believe you made it all this way alone.” She’s stepping close, almost as if she wants to inspect you from head to toe. But you both know there are no teeth marks or infection to be found. Her men would’ve already had you in cuffs and retrained. Condemned to a room with no sunlight until they were ready to deal with you, the Infected something Marlene was rightfully afraid of. But not so much so that she wasn’t cautious to the extreme, to the cunningly meticulous. “Thought you were lost in the aftermath of the convoy we lost outside the QZ.”
“I was scavenging nearby when that explosion went off, FEDRA was all over it within an hour.” You can feel the way her eyes rove over your body, from the simple, dirty clothing you donned to the pack that had seen better days and better loads. It was pretty sparse, you and Joel back to milling through every house or building for the chance at a next meal for Ellie. You two had taken to hunting again, on the way up here, the season warming up and spring allowing for some game to be caught. But you were all tired, this entire journey felt like it was coming to an end.
The energy of your trio something palpable, tense currents underlying every move and every day. The anxiety of Joel leaving you behind to go your own way underlying each conversation. Each interaction when the two of you were alone or Ellie was sleeping. He was trying, so goddamn hard, to make her feel okay. To bring out her manic giggling, her snorting laughter, a wide and gummy smile to her face. But none of it reached her eyes quite the way that it had before.
Marlene must mistake your silence for submission, because she heaves a great sigh and shakes her head.
“I sent Joel this way months ago with a girl in his charge. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of them as of yet. They were supposed to meet up with the convoy, the best protection we could offer for the journey.”
“I ran into them just outside the QZ, there had been an explosion. Too much noise, too much ruckus, it attracted a lot of Infected before FEDRA got their asses out of their heads.” You reach into a pocket, retrieving the map you had torn from the campus grounds so far away now. Well, that Joel had torn from the remnants of their lab. He had told you that nearly everything had been destroyed, no telling how long since they had packed up and moved on. But he had found a scrunched up map, a trail outlined to here.  
Her mouth is a thin line as she regards you, her plush lips taut as she mulls over the recollection and sees evidence that her people weren’t as thorough as she had intended for them to be. Her eyes cut up at you, meeting your own and her next words are a statement, not a question. “You’ve been travelling with him.”
“For a little while, we parted ways in Kansas City. The city was in the middle of an insane civil war once FEDRA was taken out. A hoard took over, from the underground tunnels when someone made the stupid decision to open fire on a crashed vehicle. We got separated.”
“And the girl?”
“Regular infection. From the chaos of getting away from the hoard.” You nodded your affirmation, you recalled the panic in her eyes. The weight of her as you tried to carry her out of that insanity, the pain of your broken arm. The desperation and heartbreak that turning off of the blocked freeway instead of backtracking had ended in. It could’ve been worse, it could’ve ended up the way you’re spinning the facts, an exaggeration of what actually happened.
But there was truth to your words. Ellie had indeed lost something that night, it just hadn’t been her life. It had been her hope in finding a cure, when her blood hadn’t worked on Sam. It was the beginning of her realizing the pedestal Marlene had placed her on with ill intentions.
“She’s dead.” It wasn’t a question. Just like you weren’t asking for her forgiveness for the loss of the young girl and acceptance for your sudden appearance. Your working relationship had always been just that, business. Straight to the point and no nonsense.
“Didn’t survive the infection she got. From trying to save a kid younger than her. Got bit, got clawed. Didn’t turn, but it took her down all the same.”
Marlene sees the challenge in your eyes, the truth of what you know she had been hiding from everyone involved in the convoy. The very reason Ellie had grappled with the meaning of her life for the past six months. The reason she had been so conflicted over whether or not to meet up with the woman before you as you finally caught wind of her whereabouts.
“I see.” Hands that are clasped in front of her go to her hips, a stance you know conveys the way her mind is working to process the false information you’ve brought her. “Well, come on. Let’s get you looked at a little closer. I see that nasty scar on your arm, bone broke through I’m assuming?”
“Yeah, happened in Kansas City. Did what I could for it too, hurt like a bitch when it was healing, it nearly took me out too.”
“Must’ve been rough, dealing with it all alone.”
“Hunkered down for the winter, found a cabin in a state park somewhere in between here and there.”
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It’s nerve wracking, not being able to turn your head and see the form of Joel. Hovering on the outside of your eyesight, his presence something you were so used to even in the time you had spent apart. A time you hadn’t wanted to repeat in such extreme parameters. But the situation was dire, Ellie’s well-being at stake. The threat of someone looking for her, tearing apart earth and ash for her blood if they even suspected she was alive. If Joel so much was glimpsed himself, Marlene would make you both recount your stories over and over again, to find the flaws, to find the lies she would suspect were there.
The “doctor” that looked you over was nice enough. But he lacked cognitive skills, the ability to read someone the second he came in contact with them.
Jerry Anderson.
His only credentials happened to be a bachelor’s degree in science, yet he called himself a trained surgeon. Which makes sense to an extent, he worked alongside Marlene and the Fireflies. Tended to them, took care of them medically, he had on the job training. But to say that he was their best, that he was the one leading the research team trying to concoct a cure?
That was absolutely absurd.
You knew more than him, something he was quick to gauge. Asking after your own schooling, stating you were too young to have a degree, too young to have the knowledge he had.
“Doesn’t matter if you think I’m as skilled as you. I’ve got my EMT and Paramedic certifications while in high school, used them to get the upper hand at my own university, and managed to get an associates in two years. Medical anthropology. Granted its not science proper, but it’s still in the medical field.” You crossed your arms, not willing to be talked down to by the man currently looking over the chart he had filled out during your physical, it was paired with the diagram of injuries Marlene’s soldiers had asked of you when confronted outside the building before being let inside.
“I just don’t understand why Marlene thinks I need your assistance, you said it yourself that you didn’t want to stay too long.” The man is stocky, even as he stands at his full height and leans against a small desk he’s got set up in what had once been an administration office. The medical bay is just beyond the door, the rooms shoddy but clean enough to treat and house people. They’re using the hospital as their ground zero, their home base.
“I’m helping her to fine tune her set up, that’s all. She knows I worked under FEDRA in the Boston QZ, even if it was all just to stay alive and hide my own smuggling. But they paired me with a trained ER physician, and he taught me everything he knew.”
“Still doesn’t equate to a higher degree.”
“No, but it does give me a better understanding of modern day solutions rather than dated procedures we’re unable to conduct anymore. Sparse or surging power, outages, lack of equipment, lack of relevant medication, different ways of sterilizing tools and bandages. All of that is adaptive, regardless of proper education on the matter.”
“She wants you to go over my notes, the ones I had for the girl.” He levels you with a harsh look, eyes narrowing as he catches your own fiery ones. “But it doesn’t matter if she’s not alive, right?”
“Might not, in terms of immediate experimentation. But perhaps she wants a second opinion on the logistics of what she’s trying to do.”
“Cordyceps infects the brain, takes over. We both know that. That’s why the girl would’ve been on the table as soon as she was delivered. To ensure it could be looked at and studied. The way her brain connected with the infection instead of succumbing to it.”
“Seems like a waste of a human life if you got your way. How would you like it if someone wanted to cut your kid open and take their brain on the off chance it could tell you something more than just testing their blood and live responses? It’d feel pretty shitty, wouldn’t it?”
“How do you know I have a kid?” The man’s eyes narrow at you, color rising from the collar of his shirt to show the affect you were having on him. Calm and collected he was not, but you knew that the second he had refused to shake your hand when first meeting, even with Marlene standing beside him.
“I didn’t, not until you confirmed it. But you don’t act like it. Bringing her into the mess of the Fireflies, of having her housed her in the middle of Infected city, protected and patrolled even as it is.”
“And what do you know about being a good parent? Marlene says you’ve been alone for as long as she’s known you. No family, no friends, just parasocial relationships that depend completely on your skill set and what you smuggled into the zone for trade.”
“Mr. Anderson, there’s no need to insult me. I’m simply having a conversation with you, truly. I’m not the one tearing apart your every word, you’re the own who seems pretty self-righteous. But you have to admit, studying someone who is immune, that would surely give you more data than just immediately cutting out the part of them that houses the cordyceps?” You try to appease him, to appeal to the way he seems to want to be talked up and not talked with, switching from outright denying his plan of action to merely suggesting he could learn more than anyone else knows about the infection instead.
“I suppose it would, but simply running tests and gathering data wouldn’t make the cure. That could only be made from the fluids housed in the brain, the part of the body that is working in tandem with the infection.” He heaves a deep sigh, rubbing at his eyes as he thinks over your words. “Marlene wants a cure, the sooner the better. And then some semblance of normalcy can begin to be restored.”
“Do you really think Marlene has the resources and authority to distribute a cure on a scale large enough to make a difference? That she’s not going to use it as leverage in her challenge to whatever is left of FEDRA and their governing forces?”
“Are you questioning her intentions?” He freezes, eyes jumping to the window pane in the cracked open door. That alone tells you he’s thought the same before, but perhaps not dared to voice it lest it get to the wrong person. That he doesn’t want to be associated with the thought.
“I’m questioning the effectiveness of a farfetched cure for something that left humanity to its own devices for far too long. Do you realize that it won’t be able to undo the sheer lawlessness nature that’s taken over the world? Not to mention the adaptability and incredible evolutionary advantage the mycelium has over us? It’s older than most life itself and you think we have the ability to combat it on such a large scale so long after it’s ruined everything we’ve created as a society?”
The man is quiet, taking your words and mulling them over. You can see the shift in his shoulders, tension easing and then building taut again. He gestures to the notebooks and textbooks scattered over the surface of his desk, and you see a small photo peeking out from beneath a chart.
“I have to try, for my daughter. She deserves a better world than this.”
“To save your own daughter, you’d willingly kill another’s?”
“It’s a means to an end, one loss for the survival of many.”
“And that’s exactly what I’m talking about- the life of one that needn’t die doesn’t justify the small possibility of creating a cure.” You’re shuffling through the faded and water spotted pages, trying to see the man who in the words transcribed there and compare them to the one standing across from you and preaching his knowledge as something that could change the world. But he was a man of science once upon a time, that shows in his words that you skim over. But when you look back up at him, he’s not the one you see before you.
You see a man willing to do whatever it takes to save his family and while you understand that, have done just so to ensure the safety of your own people- it’s a vastly different scenario that you don’t want any part of.
“I just don’t want you or your daughter to end up dying for a future that’s impossible.” And with that you push away from his desk and walk past him. You can only hope that your words made him see things a little differently. Otherwise, it would be his demise, it would be his daughter’s. Both susceptible to the manipulation of Marlene and the Fireflies, at the whim of those who couldn’t be trusted. “You’re a man of science, see the truth to what can’t be and what is.”
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You eat in the cafeteria with everyone else, the twenty or so people that are left of the faction. Military freeze-dried food is all they have left, but it’s crates and crates piled up in the kitchen. The power working off a generator they’ve rigged up. But there’s no tour for you, you don’t pass the security check to warrant one.
You can feel eyes on you as you insist on making your own pack, on boiling your own water and supervising each step of the food you’re about to consume. You aren’t taking any chances with them, not ever again. You had been trusting once, had fallen into the trap of hospitality and false narratives before. But not this time and not ever again. Maria had seen in it you, when you refused to eat the food placed in front of you in the mess hall back in Jackson.
They leave you be, for the most part. Attention half on them surrounding you in their own little pairs and trios, half of Jerry’s notebook open in front of you. The textbook he references multiple times beside it. A low hum of conversation permeates the air, and you know you’re presence is a part of it.
But you focus now, on the words in front of you. The notes a man who has given his life and skills to Marlene deems important enough to write down.
And it’s all utter nonsense.
Regardless, Marlene would never stop looking for Ellie. For her replacement.
You’re unsure exactly how Ellie gained her immunity, but you know it can’t be replicated without grand risks of not only being Infected yourself but your morality.
It’s dark by the time you seek her out, her room one of the many used as personal quarters in an upper floor. Her room is the only one occupied at the end of a hallway. Armed men at the front of it and surely one at the bottom of the stairwell for the floor just beyond the doors that lead to it.
“What questions do you have?”
She knew you were approaching, and her stance tells you as much.
She’s not allowing you into the room, but greeted you at the doorway. Left open just a smidge.
“The immunity. Depending on how it’s gained, would affect the research.” You try not to cross your arms but you regard the notes you’ve taken in your own small, palm sized journal. “If it’s gained as a child, it would explain the symbiosis between the brain and the mycelium. It could be entirely dumb luck, the timing of the bite, the type of blood someone has, their immune system, bloodlines, potential exposure to the mycelium in a different setting and an almost…”
“The girl, she was born with the immunity.” Seeing that you need some sort of answer or confirmation, the reasoning being Ellie’s immunity only one you had theorized about. Staying up many nights when you first met her and you spied the scarring along her forearm. She hadn’t needed to tell you she was immune, you had dealt with enough bites in the QZ infirmary to know. That she was alive, that she was her own person and seemingly healthy- it may not mean a cure is possible but it meant that adaptation was possible. Even on such a small scale as to affect one, very important person.
“There’s no way. If the mother had been bitten, the infection would’ve changed the baby too.”
The thought of being clawed open from the inside out terrifies you, it steals the next question from your mind as you picture a woman who looks faintly like Ellie holding tight to a swollen belly and tending to an angry wound rung in teeth marks.
“Amnio fluid is a miracle worker, but it’s not able to cure something like this.”
“Tell that to my dead friend. To the baby I had to protect.”
“Marlene…”
Suddenly shifting, her arms uncross and land on her hips. If you weren’t on immediate alert for the change in her demeanor, you would laugh at the comparison of Joel doing the same stance so often.
“Had some men come back from a trip to the old sight, they had left weeks ago.” Marlene keeps her voice even, but you already know. The web of lies you concocted; they’ve been spun around the end of a broom. The bristles of it catching your silk and turning it into an ugly failure.
“Seems that a settlement had quite the run in with a man matching Joel’s description and a young girl he was traveling with.” The muscles in her arm give her away and you take a few steps back only to feel a sting in the soft part of your shoulder. Looking down, all you see is the butt end of a dart sticking through your shirt. “They also said there was a woman with red hair. Scared the hell out of them as she tore the place apart.”
The lines of the tile and the marking along the walls drip, whatever was in the dart steals your center of gravity and you’re suddenly landing harshly on your knees. The metallic snap of handcuffs around your wrists has you struggling to hold your head up and meet Marlene’s glare.
“You fucking lied to me.”
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“Want to fess up and tell me where they’re hiding? I’ll send every person I have at my disposal, Ellie is key to the cure. You have no fucking idea what you’re messing with.” Marlene is standing in front of you, your body sore and muscles twitching as the contents of the dart wear off. The door slams behind her, lock engaging.
“I took out a fucking bear and you think you’re gonna be the thing that traps me? You have no idea what it’s taken to get this far! You think you had a rough go of it, with your crew protecting you and your fucking vehicles? Your military meals and your steady supply of fresh water? You may have been strong once. Hell, you may have been the one to bring hope to people but right now you’re nothing more than a body in my way.” Struggling to stand, as if you’re a newborn foal, Marlen doesn’t bother to stop you or force you back down. She’s reading the weakness you’re displaying and it’s going to be her downfall.
The cuffs are tight, wrists sore and red even with how you had tried to avoid the irritation. But hours had gone by, it was surely well into the night if not the next day now. You wondered if Joel had grown worried, if he had left the post even with your plea to stay put, the last words you spoke with him.
“You’d rather risk your life out there than lend us a hand here? You’re more delusional than I thought, you have nothing to go back to. The QZ is a fucking mess, even worse than when we left. It’s only a matter of time before it falls like so many others before it. You have nothing, your life will have no meaning if you have to fight to survive everyday in endless travel.” Her anger flares, breaking her cool demeanor and showing you a glimpse of the woman she really is.
“I have my integrity.” You spit at her, crouching down to contort yourself easily. Not at all the shaking mess of limbs you had just been moments ago. Shoulders protesting the movement, you’re able to step over the links of the cuffs. With them now in front, you stalk toward her with intent. “I refuse to be a pawn in your ill-conceived endeavor. I refuse to be a part of your plan to kill innocent people on the off chance that your ignorant doctor can actually make something with deadly fluids and decaying brain matter.”
She doesn’t seem to realize that you aren’t going to hurt her, that your intention isn’t to get your hands on her. You want to rattle her, to scare her. To make her see that the way she’s going about keeping you here, forcing you to work with her, for her is never going to work. Her arms come up, one to ward you off from coming any closer while the other goes to the handle of her gun.
But you don’t want the gun and you don’t want her. You shove at her with your shoulder, feet quick after those first few slow steps across the room. The keys skid across the floor when she lands, the clasp keeping them secured to her beltloop breaking from the force. Swiping the belt of grenades you had found in the room earlier, you scoop them up and are out the door just as two shots break the glass panel. Cursing, you pull the door open and slam it shut behind you, the lock automatically engaging.
You wave at her through the crackled glass before running off down the hall before her men can close in.
She needed you, your knowledge, your skill set, your determination. She needed you to find Ellie, the girl she claims to have raised in honor of her friend, only to turn back on that promise and take her life. But  you had other people who wanted you. And after being alone for so long, that’s all that mattered. They are the only ones that mattered and you’d be damned if someone tried to keep you from returning to them. You would do anything to protect them, even take out an entire faction of self-righteous mercenaries.
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Joel and Ellie both jump when the explosion echoes out, the plume of smoke that billows up into the morning sky as the smell of ash permeates the air. Even as far away as they are, deep suburbs of that surround the city, almost on the cusp of total wilderness they’re witness to it all. One of the tall buildings crashes loudly, the bottom floors caving in and it collapses in on itself. They can only assume it was the hospital that was marked on the map Joel had found but given over to you for your solo excursion into the depts of the city.
Brow furrowing, Joel watched as a wave of birds take to the air and flee, his attention focused on the erratic way they scatter in an attempt to escape the dark smoke pluming up endlessly. Movement out of the corner of his eye has him aiming the shotgun in his arms towards the source, but it’s too late. There’s a man and a young girl facing him, a gun aimed at him as Ellie scrambles to hide behind his frame.
They’re a mirror image of each other. A man shielding a young girl behind them with a gun cocked and ready to fire. But Joel can see the panic and hesitation in the man’s eyes, in his stance. He knows with just a glance that the man has been protected, has had people doing the shooting for him, keeping him safe, keeping him alive.
Ellie’s hand reached for the back of his jacket, gripping tight but he doesn’t dare take his eyes off the pair in front of him. But the man does, his glance behind him, landing on Ellie before he lowers his gun.
The girl behind him clings to him much the same way as Ellie does to Joel, even as the man holds his arms up gun above his head. It’s quiet in the street as he begins to slowly step back, making space between them. He sees Joel tense, the metal of the gun creaking in his grip as he keeps it aimed at the moving man.
They don’t exchange any words as they pivot, always facing each other even as the distance grows longer. Once they’re at the opposite end of the street, the man turns around an overgrown hedge that’s swallowed a picket fence lining the corner house and then they’re gone.
Neither of them knows what to say, the explosion and the pair of them too unique a set of events in your absence. Joel feels his stomach lurch at the thought of you being either trapped by Marlene or being in the vicinity of the explosion. His mind plays memories of each of your injuries:
The fall that you had taken in your haste to get them to safety after the explosion that started this whole journey, the way your head had bounced on the broken asphalt in a way that throbbed atop his head now. Forehead lighting up where his own injury scars the skin.
The way your voice echoed as a guttural, animalistic scream tore through your chest. Up in that house and too far away to do anything to help, the sight of you holding your arm tight to your chest, white bone peeking out from the fabric of your shirt and the bloody mess of your exposed skin.
The roars of an angry bear as it barrels towards him, Ellie tripping and you shoving her into his arms. The sight of you standing up to the great creature despite fighting off an infection.
The crack of ice that plunged you deep into freezing water, a man tangled with you as he tried to end your life. Joel frantically fighting off the last of their group and jumping in after you. The way it took forever to get you to wake up, your lips ice cold and your body shivering fiercely.
The way your voice was hoarse as you shouted out threats an swinging your machete at anything that came within five feet of you. Blood and spittle flying off of you with every move to stain the snow around you. The crazed and unhinged look in your eye when you finally honed in on him, his own state not the best.
No.
He dares to clench his eyes shut for a second and takes a deep breath, centering himself and forcing the thoughts back.
And then his memory plays each time your eyes found his after everything calmed down, how you would reach for him with such small, strong, capable hands. Time and time again, even after he failed time and time again to keep you safe.
That explosion was because of you, not something you would fall victim to. He believed that with everything in his soul.
He was still watching the far end of the street when the distant sound of tires squealing as they pivot meets his ears. The sound so rare now paired with the rev of an engine. And then he sees it, turning toward the other end of the street. A dark SUV, headlights off and windows down, with you in the driver’s seat.
The vehicle stops a few feet away, closer to the other curb lining the street. Despite the blood that stains your exposed arms and the dirt marring your face, your smile makes his heart skip a beat. You look beautiful and his chest swells with warmth where it had just been anxiety, your presence melting it away.
“Need a ride?”
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valleyof-goldenlilies · 2 years ago
Text
The Woes of Weddings (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)
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You can read the first part, The Woes of Betrothals, but it’s not necessary to read it to understand the plot :) 
Synopsis: Your wedding with Prince Aemond draws near. 
Warnings: fluff, so. much. fluff, p in v sex, tiddy succin’, oral (f! receiving), and fingering, slight impreg kink?? (if i missed out anything someone please tell me I’m too sleep deprived for this), jace shaming (on aemond’s part) 
Word Count: 5K words 
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!
A/N: You asked for a sequel to The Woes of Betrothals...and you got it. Featuring my first time writing smut 👀 I’m still improving on my smut writing skills, so please don’t laugh (I spent like five hours pouring about the specifics of smut writing too so) 😳 (see end of chapter for more A/N) 
wonderful dividers credited to @firefly-graphics as always! 
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‘By the gods,’ you swore silently to yourself, watching the scene unfold before you, ‘I did not think that I could have anticipated anything quite as worrisome as this.’ 
Your wedding day was in less than a week’s time, and your anxiety was just reaching breaking point. 
You stood uncomfortably on a slightly raised dais, attempting to keep as still as possible while the seamstresses around you fussed with the measurements of your wedding gown and cloak, adjusting it to perfection. You were unsuccessful in your regard, as you occasionally winced from the sharp sting of a needle poking your skin. Helaena sat in one corner of the room, observing the proceedings with a dreamy smile, which you returned. But it was the presence of the Queen Alicent that made you feel a little discomfited. Though the Queen was watching the scene with a smile, you saw glimmer of sorrow in her eyes every now and then, though it was quickly masked by her usual veneer of geniality. You wondered with a small blip of terror if the Queen was having second thoughts of wedding you to her beloved second son, but your worries were soon soothed with the thoughts of your beloved. You had greatly enjoyed the time you had both spent over the past few weeks: he had been nothing but a consummate gentleman and lover, nothing like the rumours of the cold prince you were once deceived by. Even now, thinking of your beloved, you had a rosy tinge to your cheeks and a smile on your face, despite the sting of the needles. You simply could not wait to discover what marital bliss your marriage will bring. 
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In another room, Aemond was faring far better than his fair lady was. Despite the rather unneeded presence of his grandsire in the room, scrutinising every move the tailors made, Aemond found himself to be quite far away from current happenings. His mind kept wandering back to his lady, and the sheer elation he felt that he would be wedding her in less than a week. It had been nearly a moon’s turn since he had confessed his true feelings to her, and every day since then has felt like a dream he never wished to wake from. He thought he would never experience more happiness as he had when he had claimed Vhagar, but this…it was a different sort of joy entirely. A contentment far more peaceful, and he found that he preferred this contentment to the hot blooded rush of triumph and adrenaline every time he rode Vhagar or won in his sparring jousts with Ser Criston. 
The both of you had spent the past few weeks spending nearly every waking moment with each other: you watching him train at arms with a wide smile on your lovely face that never ceased to spur him on, which always made Ser Criston raise his eyebrows in both amusement and a sort of pride; both of you discussing histories and philosophies in the library, where Aemond had discovered your passion for dissecting philosophical theology, much to his delight; strolling in the gardens and watching you blush with joy whenever he picked a flower and put it in your hair. He had also made it a custom to bring you a hand-picked bouquet of flowers every day, utterly enchanted by the near ethereal glow of happiness on his lady’s face every time he presented the bouquet to you. If he were a better painter, he would have asked you to sit for a portrait. Alas. Well, he could always commission the best painter in Westeros to do so, although he wasn’t quite sure if they would be able to capture your essence. 
Aemond sometimes thought it foolish that he had fallen in love so hastily, and so deeply at that. But he realised that when he woke up thinking about your smile and went to sleep every night thinking about how to make you smile even wider the next morrow, that no matter how much of a fool’s folly this may be, he wouldn’t have it any other way. He could not wait to be wedded to you. 
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The merry toll of bells resounded throughout King’s Landing, as nearly every single noble lord and lady gathered before the Iron Throne to celebrate the wedding of Prince Aemond Targaryen to his much cherished bride. 
Aemond fidgeted nervously with the hem of his sleeves, a habit he hadn’t done since he was a young child. He had never really liked crowds, despite being a Prince. Helaena, who was standing next to him, separating him from a probably drunk Aegon, patted his arm reassuringly. Aemond turned his head to shoot her a small, grateful smile, just as trumpets heralded the entrance of the bride. 
The courtiers turned their head to the doors, and gasps rippled through the crowd as they beheld the bride. Aemond felt as though he had lost all capability to function. 
There you were, gliding towards him in a gown of white, looking like a vision of the Maiden herself. Delicate spirals of gold and flowers adorned the thick brocade and silk of your gown, a thick cloak of your House’s colours draped snugly across your shoulders. You were escorted down the aisle by your lord father, who was beaming with pride while shedding some very non-discrete tears. Aemond felt like weeping himself, and Helaena was tearing up a little herself. 
When you reached the end of the aisle, your father removed the cloak from your shoulders, kissing you on your forehead, before entrusting your hand to Aemond, your beloved, who looked extremely dashing in his intricately tailored white wedding clothes. “Take care of my daughter, Your Grace,” your father said tearfully. Aemond gave the man a nod, “I will love her till the end of my days, my lord. Have no fear.” Then, Aemond turned to face you, a wide smile on his face, as he draped a heavy cloak of black and red across your shoulders. “My princess, my lady wife,” he whispered softly to you, caressing your hand in his. You smiled back at him, “My prince. My lord husband.” The both of you walked to the septon, pure joy emanating from your faces, as he officially pronounced the both of you man and wife, much to the raucous cheers of the crowd behind you. 
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The wedding feast was underway, and laughter and merriment was abound. For your first dance, you were whirled around the room by your husband, whose smile had not left his face since the moment he saw you. “I find it difficult to believe this is your first time waltzing, husband,” you said incredulously. “You are as nimble and graceful as any other lord in the room.” Aemond laughed softly, “Believe it or not, my lady, it is the first.” “But why?” you questioned, as Aemond twirled you around. Aemond looked hesitant, before answering softly, “Perhaps it was because I’ve never found the right dancing partner, until now.” You blushed, unsure of how to answer back, when Prince Jacaerys cut in, gallantly asking you for a dance, which you happily granted. What you did not notice however, was Aemond clenching his jaw as he watched you being whisked away by Lord Strong, but he shoved down the overbearing urge to punch the bastard in his face. ‘My love would be unhappy if I ruined our night,’ he kept repeating to himself, although he clenched his fists when he returned to the table and Aegon shot him a smirk, having saw everything. “Weren’t you drowning yourself in your cups, brother?” Aemond narrowed his eyes at him. “And weren’t you dancing with your bride? Oh wait,” Aegon said mockingly, “You’ve been forsaken for Jace once more.” 
Now Aegon was the one Aemond wished to punch. But he took a deep breath, not wanting to cause any conflict on such a joyous night. It wasn’t worth it to get riled up over Aegon’s japes, it never was. However, Aemond felt miserable as he watched you getting twirled around by Jace, laughing with him, instead of him. No matter, in the end, it was him that was your husband, not the Strong bastard, nor anyone else. 
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You were a little out of breath, after being asked to dance by three other lords after Prince Jacaerys. Now, you were exhausted, and wished nothing more than to return to your husband’s side and converse with him, particularly about…You felt your cheeks heat up at the thought. Of your wedding night. 
Spotting your husband sitting at the head table, you began to make your way towards him, but you were stopped by a familiar figure swathed in Hightower green. “Your Grace,” your eyes widened, before you dropped to a curtsey. Queen Alicent looked down at you with a smile, “At ease, please, we are family now, after all. You should address me as Mother instead.” You straightened, looking unsure as you glanced at your husband, who had already noticed you being accosted by his mother and was looking a little concerned. “Of course, Your Gr- I mean, Mother,” you said hesitantly. Queen Alicent’s smile turned a little warmer, “You may relax, dear, I merely wanted to have a conversation with you, from mother to daughter-in-law. Would you mind having a drink with me?” 
“I would be honoured, Your Grace.” Queen Alicent swept towards her seat at the head of the table, you following obediently behind her, but not before looking to your husband for guidance, and perhaps some help. As you passed by Aemond, he squeezed your hand in a reassuring gesture, which made your nerves sooth a little. ‘I can do this’, you chanted in your head, ‘tis only the Queen after all. And we are family now, this sort of thing is inescapable.’ Queen Alicent gestured for you to take a seat, as the servants began pouring wine into your goblets. “I trust you understand what would happen after the wedding feast, yes?” You fought the urge to blush, as you answered, “Yes, Your- Mother. Septa Marlow has kindly instructed me on the matter.” The Queen nodded approvingly, “Good, then we can move on to the other matter I wish to speak of then.” You were startled, what other matter could the Queen wish to speak of with you? 
The Queen took a sip of her wine, and for the first time, you noticed a certain sort of apprehension in her expression. The Queen said your name carefully, before asking, “Are you happy with my son?” You were struck by her sudden question, but you answered truthfully, “Yes, I am. He’s chivalrous, kind, and I have no doubt he would be a loving husband. I couldn’t have found a better husband.” The Queen smiled, but there was a certain bitterness in it. “You do not know how it warms my heart to hear you say so. Among my sons, I cherish Aemond the most. Though he may be…impassioned at times, my son is a good man. And it pleases me so that he is lucky enough to have found a wonderful woman such as you as his wife. I am certain that you will both have a happy union.” You blinked, taken aback by the scale of her compliments, “Thank you, my Queen. You flatter me, truly.” Suddenly, Aemond appeared next to you, hand on your shoulder as he greeted his mother. “Mother, if I may, I must steal my wife away for the moment. It is nearly time for the bedding ceremony.” 
“Oh, yes, I nearly forgot about that.” The Queen laughs, standing up. She pecked her son on the cheek, “Well, the both of you best be off to your bedchambers then. I will await for the both of you to break fast with me on the morrow.” Aemond inclined his head and smiled tenderly at his mother, “Of course, Mother. I bid you good night.” When the Queen had walked away, Aemond gave you a sheepish smile, “Did my mother trouble you in any way?” You shook your head, though you were still reeling a little at the oddity of your conversation with the Queen. “No, my love…she only wished to express her congratulations to our union.” 
Aemond breathed a sigh of relief, the tension seeping out of his muscles. “I’m glad to hear that.” He lowered his head to whisper huskily in your ear, “Now…how scandalous do you think it would be if I swept you into my arms right now and carried you to our bedchambers to consummate our marriage?” You looked at him with a mix of amusement and mortification, trying to discern how serious he was being. “I think we would be unable to show our face in court for nigh a moon’s turn.” 
Aemond sighed mournfully, “A shame then….that I do not much care for that.” With that, he scooped you up into his arms, grinning wolfishly at your shriek of surprise and the bemused and intrigued looks the rest of the court was giving the both of you. “Please, continue to enjoy the feast, my lords and ladies. Tonight, I wish to express to my lady wife how elated I am at our union.” You heard Prince Aegon whistle at Aemond’s antics, and you buried your face in Aemond’s chest, unable to face the crowd as he carried you out the throne room. When the both of you reached your bedchambers, Aemond set you down gently, and smiled, “Was that too much?” 
“Very much so,” you admitted, feeling your face burn. Aemond found it rather adorable that you were so embarrassed. “I do not think I can face anybody in court for the next few weeks.” Aemond laughed, sweeping you into an embrace and kissing you on the forehead, “Worry not, my love. If things go as planned…I can assure you you will not be leaving our bedchambers for a moon’s turn.” 
You gaped, a little awestruck at your husband’s newfound boldness. He seemed to have transformed greatly from the shy, yet affectionate prince you had been spending your time with, into a confident, and evidently starved man, who was scanning you with such a greedy gleam in his lone violet eye that made a strange heat flare in your abdomen. His hands on your waist, he leaned in to whisper to you, “I trust you know what that entails?” You nodded slightly, not trusting yourself to speak at the moment, gazing up at his eye, which was clouded over in reverence and lust. “Good,” he whispered, “Now, would you allow your husband to unlace your bodice and help you out of your gown?” You nodded meekly. He smiled tenderly at you, turning you around and getting to work undoing your laces. You gasped when you felt your husband plant a kiss onto your exposed neck. “Are you nervous, my love?” Aemond asked sweetly, finally loosening the last laces of your dress.
“Yes…” you murmured softly, feeling anxiety begin to build in you as Aemond began to tug off your gown. “I’ve…I’ve never…” 
Aemond turned you around to face him again, your bodice hanging around your waist by now, and his breathing was growing more erratic by the second. But his expression was loving as he said, “I know, my love. I know. I don’t want you to worry, all you need to do is lay there and allow me to give you your pleasure. Is that alright?” “But I wish to please you too,” you protested softly. Aemond took your hand in his and planted a kiss to the back of it, his gaze never leaving yours. “To be able to bring you pleasure is the greatest satisfaction I could ever want for, my love. Now…” He finally undresses you, making quick work of your smallclothes. 
The first sight of your bare form has him questioning if he had truly died and went to heaven. You were the most marvellous sight he had ever laid eyes upon: your skin smooth and glowing in the firelight, your gait shy, legs pressed together to hide the growing arousal he had no doubt was pooling between your thighs. “Oh, my love…” 
“Why? Is there something wrong?” you ask worriedly. Aemond shook his head, cupping your cheeks softly. “On the contrary, nothing has felt more right.” He directed you to sit on the bed, and you watched, riveted as he began to undress himself, his eye never leaving your face. He wanted to savour every single expression that graced your features tonight. When he had stripped himself off his doublet and smallclothes, you couldn’t help but admire the sight before you. He was majestic, his frame lithe and muscled. You let out a small gasp when you saw some scars littering his abdomen, tracing your fingers over them. His affectionate gaze followed you as you did. “How did you get these?” you asked quietly, looking up at your husband again. He smiled, threading a hand through your hair, “Just some scars from training at arms, my love. I wasn’t quite as proficient with the sword when I was younger, you know.” You continued tracing over them gently, almost reverently. “Do you…think they’re ugly?” Aemond asked quietly. You shook your head fervently, which made Aemond feel relieved. “Of course not, my love! Like my father likes to say, all scars tell of a story of failure, and how you managed to overcome them.” Aemond looked bemused, “Well, your father was very wise.” Aemond gently pushed your hands away, hands moving to his belt. “But enough of this talk, I think I’m neglecting the main purpose of the night: which is to lavish upon my beautiful wife all the attention she rightfully deserves.” 
You opened your mouth to protest, but you soon felt your mouth running dry as Aemond undid his belt and shucked off his pants. You had seen an illustration of a man’s…cock several times, when you had the misfortune of stumbling upon a copy of ‘A Caution for Young Girls’ and several rather raunchy books by Grand Maester Elysar. But that all seemed like child’s play compared to the man before you. “Aemond, I…” you shut your mouth for fear of blurting out something that was very indecent, although from your state of undress, decency was the furthest thing from your mind now. 
Aemond chuckled, bringing a hand to stroke your cheek gently. “Are you impressed by what you see, ñuha jorrāelagon?” Aemond asked teasingly. “Nuha jorrāelagon?” you wrinkled your forehead in a most adorable display. “It means my love in High Valyrian. I think that’s more unique than simply calling you my love in the Common Tongue. You deserve nothing but the most special things, after all. Which is why-” Your eyes widened as Aemond got onto his knees before you, grinning up at you mischievously. “I plan to make this the most memorable wedding night in history.” 
“I-” you were cut off as Aemond began lavishing kisses on your breasts and chest, fingers nimbly flicking at your sensitive nipples. “Oh, Aemond!” you cried out, as his mouth replaced his fingers, gripping tightly onto his shoulders. “Mmm, and here I thought I would never hear a sweeter sound from your lips,” Aemond hummed gently against your skin, the sensation nearly driving you crazy. “Keep them coming, ñuha jorrāelagon.” 
You gasped as you felt Aemond gently prying your legs apart, exposing your soaked cunny to him. Within a heartbeat, his fingers grazed over your cunt, making you cry out and arch your back. “My love-” You were interrupted by the sensation of Aemond inserting a finger inside of you, while his hot mouth was still sucking at your erect nipples. Your husband was a fan of interrupting you, it seems. “How does that feel, ñuha jorrāelagon?” Aemond asked in a sultry tone. “Good?” 
“Yes, so good. So, so good,” you moaned out, nails digging into Aemond’s shoulder as he added a second finger and began pumping a little faster, encouraged by how wet your cunt was becoming for him. He grinned devilishly, moving his mouth from your nipples to your neck. You let out another cry as you felt Aemond’s teeth sink into the soft flesh just above your collarbone, before immediately soothing it over with his tongue. Aemond let out a groan as he felt you becoming even wetter as he left love bites across your neck, he didn’t even know it was possible for him to get even more turned on by how aroused you were getting from the pain. His cock was growing even more painfully hard by the second, and he gritted his teeth, trying to will himself to calm down. ‘This night is about her pleasure,’ he told himself sternly, ‘You can have your pleasure later, when she is satisfied first.’ 
You let out a whine as you felt Aemond remove his fingers, but a moan soon replaced whatever complaints you had when Aemond latched his tongue onto your cunt, licking and slurping at your juices like a starved man. Digging your fingers into Aemond’s shoulder, you felt an unfamiliar sensation begin building in your stomach as Aemond’s tongue began flicking and sucking at your clit, making you squirm. Aemond kept one firm hand on your thigh, while the other wandered up to play with your breasts. “Aemond…Aemond!” you cried out as you felt your “peak” (Coryanne Wylde had described that in A Caution For Young Girls) hit you, making your orgasm gush out all over Aemond’s tongue. Aemond groaned, feeling his cock become painfully hard as he watched you climax right before him. He continued devouring your cunt, determined to make you orgasm again. The taste of you was just too sweet that he had to have you come undone on his tongue again. You moaned and cried out, writhing as you felt the sensation building up in your stomach again. Your second peak came much sooner this time, in part due to how sensitive your clit was. Aemond dutifully lapped up every last drop of your juices, sucking at your clit before withdrawing and wiping his mouth with a grin. You looked completely blissed out, if not a bit lost as to what had happened. “Are you alright, ñuha jorrāelagon?” Aemond asked softly, hands caressing your thighs. You nodded shyly, and Aemond smirked. “Good.” 
You yelped as Aemond pushed you onto the bed, your back hitting the sheets with a soft thump. The cool silk sheets were a welcome contrast to your burning skin, as Aemond grabbed your legs and hooked them around his waist. He leaned down to capture your lips with his, his kiss nothing like the chaste ones you had shared before. This kiss was messy, filled with lustful need, as he eagerly delved into your mouth with his tongue, fighting the urge to smirk when he heard you moan helplessly into his mouth at the pleasure. And it was about to get better for you, and for him as well. 
You were breathing heavily as Aemond finally broke your intense kiss, looking up at your husband like he was a god. You noticed a hungry gleam in his eye as he leaned in to whisper, “This might hurt a bit, ñuha jorrāelagon. But I swear, the pleasure will overtake the pain soon enough. Do you trust me?” 
You gulped, but you tried to put on a brave face as you replied,  “I trust you, my love..” Aemond bent down to kiss you sweetly. “Thank you, ñuha jorrāelagon. Just hold on to me, alright?” 
Your brows furrowed, but you squeezed your eyes shut in pain at the next moment, when you felt your husband’s cock slip between your folds and inside you. You cried out, the discomfort jarring you as he gradually sunk into you, letting you get used to his huge size. Aemond stroked your cheek softly, kissing away the tears that had formed at your eyes. “It’s alright, ñuha jorrāelagon. It will get better, I promise.” And he was right, you felt the pain ebb away slowly, replaced by a yearning for Aemond to move inside of you. “Aemond,” you whispered, “Husband. Could you move, please?” 
Aemond smiled tenderly at you. “With pleasure, ābrazȳrys.” He slowly rolled his hips, and you felt your eyes flutter shut with pleasure. “Oh…feels so good, my love.” Aemond chuckled softly, moving in and out of you in a leisurely pace, enjoying the sight before him. “I’m glad to hear that, ñuha jorrāelagon. I’m going to pick up the pace now, is that alright?” You nodded, desperate to relieve the ache you felt. Aemond kissed you on the nose, before speeding up, causing your eyes to roll back. “Seven hells,” Aemond swore, panting a little, “You’re so tight for me. So perfect.” You moaned at his words, feeling a hot wave of shame, but also arousal wash over you. His words were so filthy…but you wanted to hear more of it. Aemond moved even faster, his own pleasure overtaking whatever rational thought he had about taking it slow. You whimpered when you felt him hit a spongy spot, tightening your grip on his shoulder at how deep he was going. 
“I love you so much, you know,” Aemond panted out, his silver hair now in disarray and his forehead beaded with sweat as he thrusted inside you. “More than anything in the world. I never thought it was possible for me to love someone to this extent, but you…with you, everything feels possible. I would move mountains for you, ñuha jorrāelagon.” You bit your lip, touched by his words. Moving your hand to the strap of his eyepatch, you murmured, “May I?” Aemond swallowed, feeling reluctant for you to see his actual face, to see the ugly scar that tormented him constantly. But you seemed so genuine, so earnest, that he could only nod stiffly. You pulled it off, setting the eyepatch aside, and ran your finger gently on his scar. You beheld the sight of his sapphire eye without much fear, or disgust, both reactions that Aemond had been fearing, and he let out a sigh of relief, leaning down to kiss you again, before trailing his lips onto your neck and collarbone. 
“You are truly wondrous, ñuha jorrāelagon, do you know that? You make me want to learn every little thing about you…all your likes, your dislikes, what makes you beam and what makes you tick…I just want to never stop learning about you.” Aemond whispered against your skin. “No other books in the world, both known and unknown, could measure up to the enchanting goddess that is you, ñuha jorrāelagon. I love you, so much.” 
You moaned softly, moving to tug at Aemond’s hair as he left more love bites on your neck. “I love you too, Aemond. From now, till the end of our days. You are the sun in my universe. No, more than that. You are my moon, my light, my reason to keep breathing. You are everything to me.” 
Aemond groaned softly, feeling his own release getting closer as he listened to your declaration of love. He leaned his forehead against yours, breathing heavily, “Thank you, ñuha jorrāelagon. Thank you for not turning away from me. For loving me. For not seeing me as lesser than.” You tilted your head upwards to give him a tender smooch on the lips. “You never need to thank me for loving you, Aemond. You are deserving of it. And I promise to show you all the love that you deserve throughout our marriage.” And that was the final straw for Aemond. With a throaty moan, he spilled inside of you, feeling your walls clench around him as he did. You followed shortly after, reaching your third climax of the night as you arched your back in pleasure. Aemond continued thrusting inside you, letting you ride out your peak, as he kissed you fervently. You tangled your hands in his hair, moaning into his mouth. After a while, Aemond finally ceased moving in you, pulling out of you. He broke your kiss and pecked you on the forehead, “Wait here, ñuha jorrāelagon.” You watched, confused, as Aemond disappeared, returning with a wet cloth. He sat next to you, cleaning up the mess of fluids on your thighs, where you noticed a small spot of blood on the sheets. ‘My maidenhood,’ you thought, chewing on your bottom lip. ‘It seems I am well and truly a woman now.’ You watched with wide eyes as Aemond kissed up your thighs softly, before pushing his fingers inside your cunny again, causing you to gasp out. “It’s to make sure my seed isn’t wasted, ñuha jorrāelagon,” Aemond explained, stroking your skin softly. “I hope that it’ll get you with child a little sooner.” 
You felt your cheeks flush as he planted a final kiss over your cunt, smirking as he murmured, “I would like nothing more than to see your belly swell with my child, ñuha jorrāelagon. I am sure that you would be a wonderful mother.” 
He then disposed of the cloth, settling next to you on the bed comfortably and taking you into his embrace. “Did I hurt you anywhere, ñuha jorrāelagon?” Aemond asked you with a concerned look on his face. You smiled reassuringly, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry, I’m alright. You didn’t hurt me anywhere.” “I’m glad,” he smiled, before his expression turned coy. “And was everything to your satisfaction, ñuha jorrāelagon?” You laughed, “It was everything the romance novels promised.” That answer pleased him, and he swept you into another kiss, his thumb swiping across your cheekbones. 
‘And so, Prince Aemond of House Targaryen took Lady Y/N of House Y/H/N to bride in 126 AC, and all who witnessed their nuptials agreed that the match was well made, indeed. Prince Aemond and Lady Y/N’s union would prove to be both happy and fruitful, bringing forth five children: three sons and two daughters.’ 
-from the chronicles of Fire and Blood, on the reign of Viserys the Peaceful, written by Archmaester Gyldayn.
translations: ābrazȳrys - wife, ñuha jorrāelagon - my love 
Aemond General Taglist: @aiyaiy @sylas-the-grim​ 
if you wish to be added to the taglist for all my aemond-related works, you can tell me in the comments or through this form :) 
A/N: And that’s part 2! I hope the people who requested for one are happy with this haha 💗 I’m also thinking if I should turn this into a domestic fluff Aemond series lol, what do you guys think? If you’ve gotten this far, thank you for reading! If you liked this one shot, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated xxx
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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 4 months ago
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Who's watching?
A follow-up to Batting for a draw, the Swordheart AU that I swore I wasn't going to write more of, in which Simon is living a psychological horror story while Charles and Edwin are in the background, basking in the glow of their newfound friendship. You can read the first few scenes below or read the whole thing here on AO3.
Rating: T
Word count: 5k
Relationships: Edwin & Simon; pre-Payneland
Warnings: internalized homophobia; ableist language
Summary: Simon knows there’s something off about Edwin Payne lately. He’s been acting odd ever since that night Simon and his friends tried to play a harmless prank and got their arses beat by a cricket bat-wielding madman. Now, Simon just has to prove it.
***
There’s something off about Edwin Payne lately.
Simon has known it since that night he and the lads were going to play a prank on Payne. It was just going to be a laugh; Payne’s problem is that he can't take a bloody joke, always walking around like he’s better than everyone. Like he's better than Simon. But then some crazy twat with a cricket bat attacked Simon and the lads. Broke Simon's fucking nose, too. He had to tell the school nurse that he fell out of bed, which he knows she didn’t believe. Neither did his parents when she called them.
He didn’t get a good look at the madman who attacked him. Whoever he was, he moved fast, so fast that Simon couldn’t make out his features in the dimly lit corridor. He was tall and Simon thinks he might have been wearing an earring. Simon wanted to report it, but he couldn't. Cheesy’s on his last strike; if he gets in trouble one more time, he’s going to get expelled. And Simon’s Mum says she’ll cut off his allowance if she gets one more call from the school and he thinks she might actually mean it this time. So whoever the crazy fuck is, they just got away with nearly killing Simon and the lads.
In the days that follow the attack, he keeps a close eye on Payne and yeah, he’s definitely acting weird. He keeps doing things like humming to himself while waiting in line in the dining hall and staring into the distance and smiling in class. He has dimples. Simon’s gone to school with him for years and had no idea he had dimples, because he’s usually a miserable, prickly little prat.
He’s hardly ever at his usual table in the library anymore. Simon checks every afternoon after class, but Payne’s hardly ever there. He’s had the same favorite table, in the back corner of the second floor, since their first year at St. Hilarion’s. Usually, when he’s not in class or at meals, that’s where he is, reading or doing schoolwork alone. But now, he always seems to be back in his room. He’s barely at meals either, bolting his food down before heading back to his room. Simon has even seen him sneak out a plate of food a few times. It’s fucking weird.
And worst of all, Payne doesn’t even seem to notice Simon anymore. When Simon and the lads give him a hard time in class when his answers are too long-winded, he barely seems to hear them. He doesn’t get flustered and snappish anymore, just continues to say his piece, unbothered. One day, Simon tries to corner him outside of Latin class and Payne brushes right by him without looking at him, like Simon’s not even there.
Simon doesn’t know what’s wrong with the prat, but he’s going to find out.
***
Simon can’t help but walk by Payne’s room all the time; it’s only two doors down from the room he shares with Cheeseman. Most of the lads on the hall keep their doors cracked so anyone can stop by for a chat, but Payne’s door is always closed because he’s an antisocial twat. A week after the madman with the cricket bat broke his nose, Simon’s walking past Payne’s room when he hears something he’s never heard from inside before: someone laughing.
He stops in his tracks, because he’s never heard Payne laugh before, or even really smile. He didn’t know the prat had a sense of humor.
From behind the closed door, Payne says something too low for Simon to hear. Another voice replies, laughing, and Simon realizes there’s someone else in there. But who else would be in Payne’s room? His only friend is that weird girl from St. Hilda’s and that wasn’t a girl’s voice. And he doesn’t have a roommate; he has a single as an “accommodation” as if being a stuck-up prick is something that needs accommodating.
They’re not allowed off-campus visitors in the dorms except on weekends and even then, their doors have to stay open. Payne’s always been a perfect rule-follower: his uniform neatly pressed, always back in his room well before lights’ out, never getting up to anything more exciting than reading alone in the library. So what’s he doing, sneaking someone into his room now?
Stepping closer, Simon presses his ear to the door and listens. It sounds like Payne’s reading a book out loud, probably one of the stupid detective stories he’s always lugging around. “Do you believe in ghosts, Max?” he hears Payne say, adopting a nasally voice, and his visitor laughs again, a snorting little giggle that’s definitely not Payne. Simon pictures Payne stretched out on his bed, book in his lap, maybe while another boy lies next to him, hanging onto his every word. 
The thought makes something hot and sick churn in Simon’s stomach. It’s bad enough for Payne to be… the way he is. Worse for him to fucking flaunt it about.
Simon has half a mind to bang on the door, but then he hears Barrow call, “Oi, Mouldy, what are you doing? You coming?”
Feeling like he’s been caught with his pants down, Simon whirls around to see Barrow and Cheeseman standing at the end of the hall. Right, football practice. He was going back to his room to grab his cleats when he got distracted by whatever’s going on in Payne’s room.  “Yeah, I’m coming,” he mutters and goes to join the lads.
***
Simon wakes in the middle of his night with his head pounding, his mouth tasting like arse, and the fierce need to take a piss. Cheesy came back from a weekend visiting his parents with a bottle of bourbon and they had the lads over to finish it off. Simon regrets it now; he feels like he’s been run over by a bus. His pounding head isn’t helped by Cheesy’s snores, which are even louder than usual. With a groan, Simon staggers out of bed and to the door.
The long walk down the hall to the loo takes him past Payne’s room, which is as dark and silent as the rest of the hall. When Simon stumbles into the bathroom, he’s surprised to find it filled with steam. One of the showers is running and whoever’s in there is singing in a language Simon doesn’t understand, the tune slow and a little mournful. That’s odd, Simon’s fuzzy brain registers. The only international student on their hall is Michel, and Simon speaks enough French to know that’s not what the song is.
The singing quiets as the door closes behind Simon, but he’s concentrating too hard on not face-planting onto the cold tile floor to pay too much mind to whoever’s in the shower. He does his business, then heads back to his room, cursing Cheesy, his parents, and that stupid fucking bourbon. As he passes Payne’s room, the door opens and Payne steps out into the hallway, blinking in surprise when he sees Simon.
Simon doesn’t feel like talking to Edwin bloody Payne right now, especially when his hair is all fluffy from sleep and he’s not pristine and buttoned-up like normal. He grunts at Payne in greeting and continues to his room, cursing Cheesy, his parents, and that stupid fucking bourbon. Practice tomorrow is going to be fucking miserable and Coach is going to catch on if Simon catches another “stomach bug.”
It’s only when he’s back in his bed that he registers: it’s 1 AM, well past lights’ out. Who the fuck is taking a shower at this time of night?
Simon rockets out of bed, nearly falling flat on his face, and throws open his door just in time to see Payne returning to his room. For some reason, he’s carrying a cricket bat, even though Simon is sure he didn’t have one a minute ago. Payne doesn’t even glance at Simon as he slips into his room, the door closing firmly behind him. When Simon hurries down the hall to the loo, he finds it dark and quiet.
***
You can read the rest here on AO3!
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flightlessangelwings · 2 years ago
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To Your Rescue
Javi Gutierrez x fem!reader (no use of y/n) Word count- 5k Dialogue prompt- “ hurry! take my hand! “ Action prompt- [ TACKLE ]: sender physically tackles the receiver out of the line of fire Warnings- s.mut (18+ only!), protective!Javi, mutual pining, so much pining, action/minor violence, a creeper character, minor character death, love confession, reader is a maid in the Gutierrez compound Notes- June's Year of Protectiveness fic is here and I just had to write one with our dear sweet Javi! @yearofcreation2023​ The idea randomly popped into my head and it was just too perfect and this one was fun to write! And I just love Javi so much!! Enjoy! @flightlessangelwings-updates​ is my update blog so feel free to also follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post!
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As lavish as the Gutierrez compound was, your job was anything but. As a maid in the estate, it was your job to work behind the scenes to keep up that luxury appearance. It was far from a glamorous job, but it was a job you were grateful for. It wasn’t a hard job, and it was stable. You kept to yourself for the most part and it paid well. Plus, the views weren’t bad either…
With the sea as a backdrop, every view out any given window was stunning. The sun made the sea glitter beautifully no matter what time of day it was, and you found yourself staring out the window at times. But, there was something else that caught your eye often… or rather someone else. The head of the estate, and head of the Gutierrez cartel, Javi, was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. His smile lit up the room more than the sun that beamed through the windows. 
“Do not address Señor Gutierrez, entiéndame?” Flora, the head of the household told you sternly on your first day.
“Si señora,” you replied meekly.
Her words rang through your head nearly every day, and you had to remind yourself of your place in Javi Gutierrez’s life. But, even though you weren’t supposed to speak to him, there was nothing against looking at him, especially when you thought he didn’t notice.
But what you didn’t know was that Javi snuck glances at you when you weren’t looking too.
From the day you started, Javi was entranced by you. His heart nearly stopped in his chest the first time he saw you, and he couldn’t help but linger at times to watch you while you worked. Some days it was hard for Javi to keep his expression neutral as he passed by you in the halls, especially when he had to meet with more dangerous people. 
It didn’t go unnoticed that you averted your eyes every time Javi passed by. But, he also was aware of the weight of your gaze when he wasn’t looking. Javi wondered if you felt his own gaze on you, or were you too busy with your work to feel it. Little did he know that goosebumps erupted on your skin whenever you felt his eyes on you.
The stolen glaces went on for some time before Javi finally decided to break the ice. He happened to come into the library where you were dusting, and he made sure not to make any noise. Javi watched with longing in his eyes as you stepped up the ladder to reach higher up. But, as the dust flew into the air, it made you sneeze, and you almost lost your balance.
Panic rushed through your veins as you felt yourself fall backwards and you scrambled to grab onto the shelf. But, you barely fell at all before a pair of large hands grabbed you and steadied you.
“Careful there, querida,” a soft voice rang out behind you.
You gasped as you grabbed onto the bookcase to steady yourself before you hard and found yourself face to face with Javi Gutierrez. Your heart pounded in your chest as you took a moment to study his features up close, and he was even more beautiful than he was from afar.
“Señor Gutierrez,” you mumbled as your gaze dropped. Your skin burned as you realized he still held onto you.
Javi grinned brightly, “Please,” he let out a short laugh, “Just call me Javi.”
You opened your mouth, but closed it as you tried to find your voice, “T-thank you… For saving me.”
“No need to thank me,” Javi said softly as he finally released you.
The two of you locked eyes and time felt like it stopped. The sound of blood pulsing through both your veins felt like it echoed in the room even louder than the waves crashing out the window. The gentle breeze ruffled Javi’s hair, and you found yourself wondering that it would be like to run your fingers through it. But, your breath hitched in your throat when you noticed his gaze dropped down to your lips for the briefest moment.
But, as much as you wanted to know what ran through his head, you heard a different voice in your head: Do not speak to Señor Gutierrez.
You cleared your throat as you turned back to the bookshelf, “I should get back to work,” your voice was hushed as you picked up the duster you dropped.
Javi couldn’t hide the disappointment on his face, “Do not let me interrupt you.”
“Señor Gutierrez,” you called to him as he turned to leave, “Thanks again.”
He smiled at you, “I will always come to your rescue, querida,” he winked at you before he left the room.
From that day on, Javi stole whatever moments he could with you. He liked talking to you, even if it took some time for you to finally carry on a full conversation. As the months went on, Javi found more and more that what he felt was more than just flirting. He was falling for you. And he was falling hard.
For now, though, Javi knew he had to be careful. Between the fact that you worked in the compound and Javi’s role as figurehead of his family’s cartel, he couldn’t take unnecessary risks. He never wanted to make you uncomfortable, and he certainly didn’t want to put you in danger if anyone found out how much you truly meant to him.
There were times when it was hard, though. Like, whenever Javi hosted a fancy party and you worked serving drinks. He couldn’t help the way his fingers would linger over yours when you handed him a fresh glass.
“Gracias, querida,” Javi murmured in your ear so softly that no one else could hear.
“Anything for you, Señor Gutierrez,” you replied as you were sure he felt how warm your skin was.
“Call me Javi,” he quipped back.
Although you didn’t answer, Javi didn’t expect you to. It became a routine for the two of you to end conversations like that. But, the look on your face told him all he needed to know. Javi noticed the way your gaze lingered on him, even when you thought he wasn’t looking. And it certainly didn’t pass him by the way your eyes fell down to his lips once more.
For now, Javi just nodded and raised his glass to you before you turned and went back to your duties. One day, the time would be right. Until then, Javi would just keep you close the only way he could, and at least you were close enough to be kept safe. 
*
Another night, another party.
You let out a deep sigh as you picked up all the discarded streamers from the party. It was a particularly crazy night, and most of the guests had too much to drink and got rowdy. It didn’t bother you, though since you got paid overtime to work the cleanup. You had gotten to the compound late as most of the guests were already leaving, but your heart fluttered in your chest when you saw Javi laughing and having a good time. 
But now, everyone had left and it was just you in a big empty room with only trash to keep you company. Or so you thought. 
“Would you like some help, querida?” a soft voice broke through the quiet in the room.
You gasped and jumped, startled by the sudden presence behind you. But, you instantly relaxed when you saw Javi standing there, “Señor Gutierrez,” you breathed.
Javi smiled brightly at you, lighting up the dimmed room and bringing the sun into the night, “Querida, how many times have I asked you to call me Javi?”
Your heart pounded in your chest as your skin warmed, “Javi…” You finally replied and finally caved into his ongoing request. 
“That’s better,” he dropped down to his knees next to you, “Now back to my first question,” Javi’s tone was soft as he leaned in close enough for you to feel his breath, “Would you like some help?”
Lost in his eyes, it took you several moments to answer. And you were sure he caught the way your eyes dropped down to his lips for a moment before you spoke, “It…” you cleared your throat as you found your voice, “It isn’t your job señ… Javi.”
“I know,” his kindness was reflected in his voice as he covered your hand with his and slipped out what you were holding, “But I want to help. And…” he paused, “I want to spend some time with you.” 
Your mouth dropped open and you were sure Javi felt the heat that radiated from your skin, “Uhh,” you stuttered, “Thank you,” you mumbled as you dropped your gaze down, too nervous to meet his eyes again.
I will always come to your rescue, Javi thought as he let out a short laugh and helped you clean up in silence. The silence, however, was comfortable, and you never felt his warmth go far from your body. Soft rustling was the only sound in the room as you and Javi picked up together. It felt… normal… comfortable. As if the two of you were the hosts and you cleaned up after all your friends left. As time passed, Javi broke the silence with light conversation, and it only made the illusion stronger.
With Javi’s help, you got the space clean enough in no time, “I’ll leave the rest of the glasses for the morning,” you thought out loud, “I think that's it,” you turned to him, “Thanks, Javi.”
He reached out and gently cupped your face as he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, “You are welcome, querida,” Javi said as he stroked his thumb across your cheek. His breath hitched in his throat as you leaned into his touch, and he wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms and hold you tight. 
Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt comforted by his touch. You were sure he could feel the way your pulse pounded through your veins, and when he whispered your name, you opened your eyes to meet his. 
“Javi…” you breathed, lost in your emotions.
The two of you stared at each other, lost in the other’s eyes. Slowly, you both leaned in close to each other, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw Javi’s gaze glance down at your lips. You trembled in his grasp, and part of you wanted to pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming. As his face got closer to yours, you felt his breath on your skin and it made goosebumps erupt on your skin.
But, just as Javi’s lips ghosted over yours, you suddenly got nervous and pulled back at the last moment. You cleared your throat as you mumbled an apology, “Sorry, I…”
But Javi didn’t allow you to complete the thought, “It’s late,” he interrupted, not wanting to hear your rejection, “Would you like to stay here for the night? I do not want you to be out this time of night.”
You fiddled with your fingers, “Are you sure?” you asked in a whisper.
Javi smiled softly at you as he brushed your cheek, “Anything for mi favorita,” he winked at you.
Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes went wide, “O-ok…”
“Come,” he stood and offered you his hand, “I will set us up by the fireplace downstairs and put on a movie.”
“That sounds nice,” you replied as you slid your hand in his. 
With a grunt, Javi helped you to your feet, and when your faces were only inches away again, your both froze. Your lips parted as your eyes dropped down to his lips again, and you saw Javi mirror your action. Together, the two of you stayed still for several long moments. Only this time, Javi didn’t try to close the gap, and instead cleared his throat and led the way.
*
“This is the most comfortable blanket I’ve ever used,” you sighed as you settled onto Javi’s couch. He let you use his shower and you changed into the spare clothes you always kept on the compound just in case.
“Only the best for you, querida,” Javi smiled at you as he poured two glasses of wine and turned on a movie, “I hope this selection is ok for you,” he sounded unusually sheepish as National Treasure started.
You returned the smile as you grabbed one of the glasses, “Only if it’s a double feature with both,” you raised your glass and waited for him to do the same.
Javi’s face lit up with excitement, “Of course!” he didn’t bother to hide his glee as he clinked his glass with yours, “Salud.”
“Salud,” you tapped your glass against his and you both took a sip before you settled in.
Comfortable and exhausted, it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep on Javi’s couch. As your body relaxed, you slumped over in your sleep and your head rested on his shoulder. Javi glanced down and his heart fluttered as he saw you sound asleep against him. Not wanting to disturb you… or move you… he adjusted himself so that he slung his arm around you and he held you tightly until he too dozed off. Neither of you made it through the first movie.
When the sun hit your face, you groaned softly as you yawned before you opened your eyes. Groggy from sleep, it took you a few moments to remember where you stayed for the night. But, you gasped when you realized that you fell asleep against Javi, and that he fell asleep with his arm wrapped around your shoulders.
You shot up with a start, which woke Javi, “Querida!” he exclaimed, “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” you breathed, “I just… I didn’t mean to…” you gestured around you.
Javi softened, “Do not apologize, querida,” he supped your face again, “It was a wonderful sleep… Even if we didn’t make it through the move,” he added with a laugh.
That put you more at ease, “I guess we’ll have to do this again sometime? And actually watch the movies,” you laughed as you suddenly felt more brave around him.
“I would like that,” Javi whispered as his gaze lingered on you for several moments.
Again, you felt captivated by his eyes on you, as if he cast some spell on you that froze you in place. But, it was something you were willing to cave to. And once again, you leaned in closer to him, your lips hovering just over his.
But, this time you were interrupted by the chime of the clock that made you both jump with a gasp. Your eyes went wide as you realized what time it was, “Shit,” you cursed under your breath, “I’m late,” you looked at Javi, “I gotta go.”
Javi looked disappointed, but he nodded, “Go,” he said, “I will tell Señora Flora that you stayed late and not to punish you.”
You gave him a pleading look as you did something unexpected: you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, “Thank you, Javi,” you whispered before you scurried away, leaving Javi on the couch with a dumbfounded grin on his face.
*
“Thank you for meeting with us, Mr. Gutierrez,” a sinister-looking man spoke in a heavy Russian accent, “We look forward to doing business with you,” he smiled darkly.
Javi and Lucas sat on the other end of the table, both on high alert. It was a private meeting, and you only stepped in briefly as they got started to offer drinks and refreshments. As you walked by the leader, he greeted you in Russian and gave you a smirk that made your skin crawl. You thought for a moment that he was going to try and reach for you, but Javi cleared his throat and got his attention before he could.
“We look forward to working with you too, Señor,” Javi didn’t sound like himself. He didn’t look like himself either. He kept a tough facade as a deep scowl shadowed on his face. But it only hid his true feelings, and he killed him inside that he couldn’t just grab you and hold you close, shielding you from these unsavory men.
The Russian looked over at Javi and gave him a nod before he turned his attention to you once more, “You certainly have very pretty help, Mr. Gutierrez,” he commented.
Everything in you told you to run, to slap him, to do something. But, you knew better, and all you did was nod once before you turned and left the room as quickly as possible. You felt the Russian’s gaze on you, but Javi also watched with great intensity. It wasn’t until the door shut behind you that you finally let out a deep breath. 
Javi kept his guard up the entire meeting, feeling even more on edge after the way the Russian looked at you. 
*
The next day when you arrived at the compound, you were immediately greeted by Javi. He looked like he didn’t sleep well, and it was clear by the look on your face that you didn’t either. Both of you were haunted by the encounter yesterday, and Javi had spent all night worrying about you. He wanted more than anything to keep you there overnight, scared that the Russians might find you. 
“Javi,” you exhaled, “Are you ok?”
Javi sighed your name with relief, “Come with me, querida,” he extended his hand, “I want to show you something.”
“But…”
“Do not worry,” he smiled softly at you, “I am the boss, remember?” he winked and suddenly all the tension and worry melted from your body.
“Ok,” you breathed as you took his hand, “Where are we going?”
Javi only grinned at you.
*
“Wow,” you breathed in awe, “This is…”
“Beautiful,” Javi finished your thought as his gaze never left your figure.
Javi had led you to his truck and drove you out into the cliffs, away from the compound, from your lives, from everything. The view of the sea was even more stunning from here, and the calm and the fresh air surrounded you. While you took in your setting and admired the views, Javi never took his eyes off of you.
“Listen, querida,” Javi started as he shuffled closer to you, “About yesterday…”
You felt like your heart was about to explode from your chest, especially when Javi looked at you like that, “Yes…?” 
Before he could voice his thoughts, the sudden sound of a gunshot from the distance made you and Javi jump. Another gunshot went off, and you screamed as the dirt only a few inches away from you blew up into the air. In the distance, you saw a truck with several men inside, all of them armed. Although you couldn’t make out their faces, you had a guess that they were the Russians that Javi and Lucas met with the day before.
“Hurry, querida,” Javi reached for you, “Take my hand.”
Everything happened so fast, you hardly processed it. Javi grabbed your hand and led you through the forest along the cliffs. The sounds of gunshots and shouts in Russian echoed through the wilderness. Javi weaved you both through the trees as the Russian yelled taunts at you both.
“You cannot keep the woman safe, Mr. Gutierrez,” a heavily Russian accented voice called through the forest, “We will find you, and kill you. And then she is mine.” 
The truck spun around and cut off the path that Javi and you ran in. He stopped short, keeping you behind him as they aimed their guns at you both. Thinking quickly, Javi grabbed you and launched you both down a hill.
You both grunted and shouted as you rolled down a short way before you landed in a clearing with a gasp. Javi groaned as he shook his head before he scrambled to his feet and grabbed your hand again, “Quickly, querida!” He yanked you forward as he led you behind a large boulder, “This will keep us safe for now,” he huffed.
“Javi, what are we gonna do?” you huffed, out of breath from running.
Javi stopped his frantic panic for a moment and corrupted your face with both hands, “Look at me, querida,” he waited for your eyes to lock with his before he continued, “I promise, I will keep you safe. Just trust me.”
You swallowed hard, “I trust you, Javi.”
“Good,” his lips pressed together firmly as his hair fell into his face. 
Javi kept you covered as best he could while he pulled out two things: his phone and his gun. You gasped when you realized he always carried it with him, and if the situation wasn’t so dire you would have thought more about it. But, another gunshot from the distance interrupted your thoughts.
“Lucas!” Javi shouted on the phone. He yelped as another shot rang through the air and hit the rock you currently used for cover. Without thinking, Javi pushed you down to the ground as he quickly told his cousin where to find you. “These fucking Russians,” he mumbled to himself as he tucked your head into his chest, “Stay down, querida,” Javi told you, “I promise I will not let anything happen to you.”
All you could do was cling to Javi’s shirt. You hated the helpless feeling and the fear that flowed through you. But, you also knew that Javi would keep you safe, and his strong arms around you was a comfort in the situation. You took comfort in the echo of Javi’s voice from earlier, telling you that he would always come to your rescue.
“There you are,” a thick Russian accent came from behind you and Javi.
You both gasped as you turned around and found the leader had found his way behind the rock and pointed his gun right at you and Javi. Javi hissed a string of curses in Spanish as he pulled you as close as he possibly could.
But, before the Russian could fire at you, a shot rang from behind him and he fell forward, dead.
“Do not look, querida,” Javi huffed as he blocked your vision. 
Your vision was blocked by Javi’s hand over your eyes, but you heard the shouts of Lucas and Javi’s security team. And the barrage of gunfire made your ears ring until suddenly silence filled the air. Just as quickly as it started, all the shooting stopped, and it wasn’t until Javi made sure that the area was clear that he finally loosened his grip on you.
“It's over,” he sighed as he looked you up and down, “You’re alright.” Javi looked around before he stood up and acknowledged his allies.
“Javi…”
“Come with me, querida,” Javi reached out and took your hand once more, “I want you to stay at the compound tonight until I know you will not be a target anymore.”
All you could do was nod as you followed Javi back into the safety of the compound.
*
You spent the rest of the day in a daze as you replayed the chase over and over again. Javi insisted you stayed in his bedroom, and even as you stayed in his large, luxurious shower for so long that the water ran cold, you knew he was just outside the door. Once you opened the door wearing nothing but a robe, you were immediately face to face with Javi, who looked more worried than you had ever seen him.
“Are you alright, querida?” he asked as he looked you over.
“I’m ok,” your voice was hushed as you sounded meek.
“Come here,” Javi rested his hand on your shoulder and guided you to sit on his bed. Once you were seated, he looked at you with the saddest expression you had ever seen, “I’m so sorry, querida,” Javi’s face dropped, “They must have seen how much I care about you, and it put you at risk.”
“Javi…”
“I never wanted you to get hurt,” he continued, looking back up at you with tears in his eyes, “All I want to do is protect you and treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”
You froze. 
“I just…” he sighed, “I cannot lose you… Te quiero, querida,” Javi’s confession came from his heart as he looked at you with those big brown eyes. His hands on you stayed firm and you felt the tension in his grip.
The dam broke, and without a word you launched yourself forward and crashed your lips to his. Javi’s muffled moan vibrated between your bodies as he wrapped his arms around you and immediately reciprocated the kiss. All the months of longing and lingering touches cumulated in his kiss.
Javi murmured your name as you both broke away for a breath before he yanked you close and kissed you again. This time, he swallowed the moan you let out as you both clung to each other as if you were both afraid the other would disappear. 
Neither of you were sure who moved first, but you both simultaneously began to tug at the other’s clothes. Javi stripped you more quickly, with only the robe covering your body, but you made quick work of the button down shirt and linen pants he wore.
As you yanked his pants off, you straddled Javi’s waist and pushed him down onto his back. All the breath was forced out of his lungs, but Javi never broke eye contact with you. He looked up at you like you were a goddess and he was just a lowly worshiper. But, Javi would worship you every day, every night, every moment he could. He would do anything for you. 
“Javi,” you breathed as you leaned forward, your folds rocking along his cock as you did so, “I love you too,” your voice was soft as your lips hovered over his before you closed the gap once more.
He mumbled your hand as he grabbed onto your hips, his hands pressing into the soft flesh of your body. Soft moans from both of you filled the room as you rocked yourself along Javi’s hardening cock until the desperation was too much for both of you.
“Fuck,” Javi hissed as the warmth spread across his whole body. 
You bit your lip as you lined yourself up with the tip of his cock and slowly sank down. A loud moan escaped your lips as he cock pushed into you, stretching you out so wonderfully. Both you and Javi let out a string of curses as his cock filled you more and more until your hips met his.
“Shit, Javi,” you breathed, “Fuck…”
“You feel so good, querida,” Javi groaned as he trailed his hands up your sides and pulled you forward for another kiss.
Slowly, you rocked yourself along Javi’s body, his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside you while his tongue tangled with yours. Javi’s arms stayed wrapped around you, too afraid to even loosen his grip on you while you rode him harder. 
“I am never letting you go querida,” Javi mumbled as your warmth engulfed him over and over again as you bounced on his cock, “I promise, I will never let anything happen to you,” he whispered in your ear.
“Javi… Fuck,” you moaned against his lips, “I’ve thought about this for so long…”
“So have I,” Javi grunted your name, “Fuck… Let me feel you cum, querida.”
You let out a loud moan as your clit rubbed against Javi’s hips and his cock hit spots so deep inside you that you saw stars. You held onto his shoulders as you rode him harder and faster, desperately chasing your climax. Mumbled words of praise spilled from Javi’s lips as his own orgasm wasn’t far behind.
Together, you and Javi came at the same time. Your bodies trembled against the other as you clung desperately while you rode out your climaxes. Loud moans and groans filled the room and skin slapped against skin until you lost all your strength and collapsed down on top of him.
Javi kept his arms around you as he rolled you over onto your side, slipping out of you in the process. You shivered as you felt a sudden emptiness without Javi’s cock inside you and you let out a soft whimper.
“I’ve got you, querida,” Javi whispered as he guided your head to rest on his chest.
You sighed contently as you felt his pounding heart against your body, “I know you do,” you murmured.
Together, the two of you laid in a comfortable silence for some time. Javi tenderly stroked your back, and if it weren’t for your racing thoughts, you would have easily fallen asleep safe in his arms. But, between the attack and the heated confession, you had too much weighing on you.
“What happens now, Javi?” you asked, breaking the silence.
Javi let out a deep breath, “We have to hope the Russians did not get in touch with anyone else,” he sounded bitter, “But we have to assume that there will be others who will try to use you to hurt me,” he paused as he kissed the top of your head, “Do not worry, querida, I will never allow that to happen.”
You shifted yourself to look into his eyes, “I know you won’t,” you sounded confident, “I trust you, Javi.”
He smiled softly at you as he cupped your chin and pulled you in for a soft and tender kiss, “No matter what, you will be safe with me.”
It was a promise, not only to you, but to himself. Javi had never cared about anyone the way he cared about you. No matter what the future held, there was one thing Javi was certain of: he would keep you close and keep you safe. But, the future could wait until morning. For now, Javi just wanted to enjoy this moment here in his bed with you in his arms. 
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sitp-recs · 1 year ago
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hi liv! i was wondering if you have any drarry meet-cute recs? i thought i saw a list of it once but cant seem to find it now :(
Hi anon! Sure thing, here are some fun recs with this trope. JulietsEmoPhase writes a lot of meet-cute AUs, I’d definitely check their AO3!
go to it laughing by oflights (T, 1k)
Harry is a marine biologist and Draco is a beluga whale Animagus; they meet on the St. Lawrence River.
Another Side by flightinflame (T, 2k)
Harry loves teaching at Pigdots Nursery. He knows a child named Scorpius is probably magical, but something about the name feels familiar.
He Whose Hand and Eye Are Gentle by khalulu (G, 5k)
Draco reads poems and sometimes writes them. Harry receives poems and sometimes reads them. Rutherford delivers poems via the scenic route. Wombat snores. Eventually, all comes together, with help from the foxes in red bibs and the sumo referee.
Play Dates by bixgirl1 (E, 8k)
Harry never thought seeing Malfoy as a dad would affect him this way.
And a Malfoy in a Pear Tree by lauren3210 (E, 8k)
Draco works in a coffee shop. Harry drops by every day to get his fix. Of coffee, Ron.
The Interest Here by disapparater (T, 9k)
Draco has his own morning show on the wireless, which he loves; an ambitious assistant, whom he needs; and days in The Tea Shop, where he relaxes. He also has a new caller on the show, whom he finds bloody annoying.
Once Upon An East End by JulietsEmoPhase (M, 9k)
Bistro owner Harry is closing up for the night when a young man stumbles through his door in need of help. The night takes them in a direction neither had expected.
coffee & communication: a (slow) romance by softlystarstruck (E, 11k)
Nearly a decade after the war, Draco has made a life for himself in Muggle London, writing romance novels and hanging out with his cat. But when he spills iced coffee all over a gorgeous man who turns out to be Harry Potter, has he tumbled into the start of his own romance without realizing it? And how difficult can it be to talk about desire, anyways? He writes smut for a living.
My True Love Gave to Me (Six Jars of Chutney) by goldentruth813 (M, 12k)
On his first post-divorce Christmas Eve without his children, Harry goes to Marks & Spencer hoping to find a bit of his past; what he finds instead is a future.
honey milk tea by softlystarstruck (T, 14k)
When Draco runs into Harry at his favorite boba tea shop and gets so flustered he orders the exact same thing, he has no idea how quickly his life is going to change.
Espresso Patronum by tasteofshapes (T, 15k)
When Draco reappears five years after the war and opens a wildly popular coffee shop, Harry’s pretty sure that Draco’s Up to Something. He just has to prove it.
An Improbable Bout of Summer Madness by acari (E, 16k)
Draco had planned a quiet, peaceful summer holiday with his son. The last thing he expected was to find Potter here, in Draco's little Cornish retreat. Making fudge in a shop? The idea was too ludicrous for words.
A Hyperactive Fruit, a Nasty Neighbour and a Love Story by synonym4life (E, 20k)
Potter’s pet Niffler is wreaking havoc in Godric’s Hollow and Draco, the Assistant Head to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, is the one who has to deal with it. Repeatedly. The fact that Potter keeps coming to Draco’s office in grey jogging bottoms - repeatedly - does in no way help the matter.
Black Coffee on a Lonely Night by Femme (M, 21k)
Draco owns a café in the city. Harry's a MP who comes in every morning, newspapers in one hand, BlackBerry in the other, and orders a triple espresso macchiato.
Unexpected Turn by Oakstone730 (E, 27k)
English real estate developer Draco Malfoy is in America to find his long lost cousin and escape a scandal. When his car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, his trip takes an unexpected turn.
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fornshinoyaz · 2 years ago
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HOW TO: LOSE FEELINGS FOR AN IDIOT
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02. HOW TO: NOT GET HIT BY A VOLLEYBALL
series masterlist | previous | next chapter
wc: 4.9 nearly 5k omg
how to lose feelings for a CERTIFIED, government approved idiot. it should be easy right? wrong. you are absolutely, positively, done for. you have no idea why you’re writing the guide book when you can’t even get past the first step! first step, the only important step really: don’t have your best friend be kei tsukishima. then maybe, just maybe, you’d have a chance.
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You had a problem. That was unusual. You were usually the one fixing everyone elses shit. That wasn't the case now. Tsukki, this time, decided he was going to fix it.
“Is Y/N here?”
He appears before Kimura Hikari like a ghost. Her grip tightens around the large stack of books she's carrying. She nearly drops every single one of them in her spook.
Hikari stumbles backward, her voice trembling. “Oh! Hi! Uhm, K-Kei, right? Y/N’s friend?”
Tsukishima’s cold eyes sweep down to your struggling friend, “Mhm. Kimura? Y/N’s here, isn’t she?”
From the way you described him, Hikari would’ve expected him to be like a bundle of flowers, but he’s more like a bundle of rocks. Dead, serious, and with not a single care for anyone. His deep frown made shivers run down her spine. His gaze shifts from Hikari to the series of study rooms behind her. He’s sure you have to be in one of those, and if you aren’t, he’s going to have a few words with you. Not only would you have wasted his time (more than you already have), but you would’ve lied to him about putting in the work to pass your exams. He’s not sure which one would piss him off more.
Hikari fidgets nervously, struggling to balance the books as she points to one of the rooms. “Right in that one! #15!”
Tsukishima’s face flashes with annoyance. Really? You had to pick the farthest room? His body is still a little sore from conditioning yesterday. He gives Hikari a small nod of thanks. He isn’t rude, at least not to people he’s just met.
Yamaguchi once told him he’d changed a lot since high school, in more ways than one. Tsukishima figures your influence would’ve gotten to him one day.
Hikari fidgets herself away, mumbling about how he wasn’t what she was expecting. Tsukishima hums, so you talked about him.
You’re neck-deep in your notes when the door to your study room slams open. You know it can’t be Hikari being that rude. She’s sweet and gentle, always whispering for your attention before even blurting out a curse. But Tsukishima? He’s known you too long to bother with the polite stuff.
He kneels against the doorway, his hand open, and before you even realize, he hurls your light blue lunchbox straight at your head. You let out a pained shriek, clutching your aching head, and he responds with an annoying laugh.
Glaring up at him, you rub your temples. “Thanks, dickface.” 
Tsukishima rolls his eyes at you and lets out a theatrical sigh, pretending to be affected by you, but the glint in eyes betrays his facade—he’s loving this. What an ass.
“I told you to stop leaving your things in my apartment. Especially ugly things.” He replies, taking a step forward into the quiet room. You spent a lot of your time here, relentlessly preparing for your future. It wasn’t something you were the most fond of—the constant studying, the nonstop day to day grind. You preferred being with your friends or taking pictures in the city, to being bogged down in your books. His interruption only made this more unbearable. You were not gonna be able to focus.
Sunlight filtered through the large glass panes, showcasing your friendly chaos of textbooks, study materials, and stationary tools. The usually neat desks are thrown across the room, in favor of your own sleep-deprived design. Hikari’s bright purple book bag leaned against one of the desks. Her side of the room was much neater, with organized tools and textbooks sitting in a circle. Though you both have different approaches, it didn’t matter much, as both of you equally compete for the spot of top student at Karasuno University.
“And I told you to stop showing up where I am unannounced. You almost gave me a heart attack!” You chide. If there was one thing Tsukishima knew how to do, it was interrupt your day. He knew you would stop everything when he came, and it drove you mad.
“Good.” Tsukishima snorts, making you frown. He takes several steps towards you. He's way too tall, it makes you want to cut his legs off with a pair of scissors. He squints down at the sheet of paper in front of you. You instinctively cover your work, already knowing how he gets. But it’s already too late. He’s seen everything he needs to see. Your nose scrunches up as the next words fall out his lips.
“You’re gonna fail the exam. Your notes are wrong.” Tsukishima says, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.
You’re not taken aback by his bluntness; you’ve known him for too long for that. But you are taken aback by the fact that he thinks it’s wrong?! You’ve been working tirelessly for five whole hours! This man, stupid blonde man, can just walk in here, take a split look, and decide the whole thing is wrong?! 
Your eyebrows furrow and your grip tightens on the sheet of paper. “What do you mean it’s wrong?” You rumble, shooting up from the desk.
Tsukishima takes this as his sign to be even more of a dickhead. He turns around and slams the door of your study room behind him, without a single word. You hated him sometimes. Most of the time actually.
Inside the room, you let out an annoyed huff, and while outside, Tsukishima shakes his head. You’re always so forgetful and stupid. While he’s going to graduate on time, you’ll be a whole semester late if you keep this up! All because you never pay attention to him when he dumbs-down very simple problems. 
On the other hand, you hate how Tsukishima always has to have the last word, and worse, that he’s always right! It was like his own super-power. It’s infuriating. You hate it. 
You wind the door open so fast and strong, your fingers nearly fly off, and the door makes a loud bang as it hits the other side of the wall. Tsukki narrows his eyes on the new dent you surely left, then on your hot-and-bothered face. 
“Y/N, are you mad?” he asks. Whatever smart remark he was going to make is overturned by a smirk.
Tsukki has a way of triggering the worst out of you, especially in moments like this. It was the condescension that dripped in his voice. Sometimes, it feels like he reserves the worst treatment for you. But, you know what? It’s mutual, because he’s infuriatingly always right. I mean screaming in a library, how low could you get?
“YES! I’M MAD! FIRST YOU CALL MY LUNCHBOX UGLY, WHICH I SPENT A LOT OF MONEY ON BY THE WAY! AND THEN YOU CALL ME STUPID AND YOU DONT EVEN OFFER TO HELP!”
Tsukishima winces at the sheer volume of your voice. The entire library seems to look up at you both, and the librarian’s frown deepens. She looks like she’s ten seconds from coming over and whacking you both with every single edition of War and Peace. 
“You’re screaming. in a library. Y/N. Do you want to get kicked out?” He asks with a hushed tone.
You glance around, offering sheepish apologies to the annoyed students trying to not fail their exams. But it doesn’t matter, because it’s not your fault!
“Come here!” You spit out. Tsukki groans fills the room as you launch him back inside the room and shut the door (softly) right after you. 
Now he’s leaned against the table you’re working at, staring at you in disinterest as you explain how you're correct and he’s just wrong. Hikari waltzes back into the room and opens her mouth to say something, but stops in her tracks when she sees you both. He doesn’t spare her a second glance, and really neither do you. You’re both preoccupied. 
And this is how you two were. It was why you were forced out of the manager position of the Boys Volleyball Club when you were in high school. Tsukki could never focus up with you there. Neither of you could stand not having the last word.
“When I tell you why you’re wrong, I want you to get on your knees and apologize for being difficult and wasting my time,” Tsukishima says with a huff.
You scoff, disbelief coloring your tone. “Excuse me?” you ask as he walks over to your side of the table.
“You heard me,” he replies. You almost bite out a response, but fuck—your breath catches in your throat. You swear, he does this on purpose. 
Tsukishima hunches over you, his fingers meticulously correcting your mistakes. He’s not doing anything wrong, nothing out of the ordinary for you two. But this time it feels different.
Your heart pounds in your ears. It’s too loud. His proximity is unnerving. You can feel the warmth of his body, scalding and burning, as if colliding with your own. It’s hard to concentrate with him so close. His leans into your neck. Your breath hitches. His hands trap you.
Your eyes linger on his forearms, and you can’t help but notice how much he’s grown since high school. He’s stronger, taller, all muscle. Before, a twig could’ve beat him at an arm wrestling match. 
You try to focus on anything else. But he makes it so damn difficult. His scent is everywhere you turn - woody and fresh like he just came out of a shower. He’s intoxicating. 
For a moment, neither of you knows how to break the silence. You yell at yourself to stop, to not give in.
But you’ve never been one to hold back.
You steal a quick glance at him, taken away by how pretty he looks in the soft light. There’s something about this moment that makes you want to freeze time and stay in it forever. To just forget about the world around you.
The gentle hum of the room and Tsukishima’s soft clearing of his throat finally pulls you back.
“Focus,” he reprimands, his voice breaking the spell.
You give him an annoyed side-eye, trying desperately to hide the way he affects you. He slaps down your pencil, just to be even more annoying, and leans backward, that familiar smirk on his lips. 
“Now look,” he continues, “I was right, you were wrong. Save us both the time and admit it now.”
“I’m not admitting anything,” you grumble. He really was right. You had completely forgotten a step, messing up the whole problem. You groan in frustration, but that only seems to amuse him further. Your pain is melody to his ears.
“Admit it,” he says again, stronger this time. 
You glare up at him, the weight of defeat settling in. This sucks. His smirk is infuriating, yet somehow you love it at the same time. 
“Eat shit,” you say, lacking any real conviction.
Tsukki knows he’s won, even if you don’t say anything, and that’s enough to satisfy him. He gives you a small wave, and you roll your eyes, but can’t help but wave goodbye as the door to the study room clicks shut behind him. 
Hikari’s high pitched voice reminds you that she was there all along.
“Woah?! What was that?!” She asks.
“What was what? Spit it out, Hikari.”
“That tension was crazy! Are you serious?” Hikari laughs, as if she can hardly believe it. 
You sigh, waving off her comments. “Stop. Let’s just focus on this, okay?”
“Okay, okay, focusing,” Hikari nods, going back into her books. You think for a moment, she had truly dropped the subject. 
For five minutes, you're left with peace and quiet. But it’s not in Hikari’s nature to resist asking about a million questions.
“Okay, but did he come all the way here just to drop off your lunchbox?”
“Hikari..?”
“Sorry! Last question!” she squeaks, “but seriously, did he?”
You looked down at the item that been thrown at your FACE and shake your head. You tell Hikari, “It’s nothing, he just doesn’t like clutter,” and you know she’ll believe it. 
Step two, of how to: 'lose feelings for a certified, government approved idiot', is DENY DENY DENY. And it'll work. For the first few times.
After all, Hikari didn’t know him like you did. It’s true; he hates clutter and loves organization. He can’t stand a dirty house. But it didn’t make sense for him to spend his own precious time just to return your lunchbox. If it were anyone else, Tsukki would’ve probably thrown it out or eaten whatever was inside and called it a day. 
But for you, he went out of his way. Why?
Because he hated seeing you go without meals. He’ll waste his own precious time, something he didn’t have much of, just to make sure you could eat. It was love packaged in his own Tsukki way. 
At some point, you were gonna have to stop denying your feelings for him.
But that wouldn’t be any time soon. 
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As the only girl in a group full of guys, it got hard sometimes, especially when it came to introducing your friends to Hikari. 
Kageyama, of course, was surprised, and asked in the most serious voice, “You have other friends?" It made you want to kill him. Nishinoya and Tanaka couldn’t help but flirt with her, acting like they had never spoken to a girl in their lives. But the most annoying part was how nice Tsukishima was to Hikari. It pissed you off more than you’d like to admit.
With your exams done, the yearly volleyball tournament was slowly approaching. The pressure was on, and class rankings were released. You couldn’t help but feel frustrated when you saw your name at the #2 spot. Guess who claimed the top spot? Yeah, no need for an explanation. Of course, it was him—unbelievable as always.
The whole university was decorated with banners flying as you arrived on campus with Hikari. Tons of faces you’d never seen before filled the gym, taking up space in the visitor’s section.
Hikari’s eyes sparkles like stars. 
She excitedly looks from stand to stand, “Wow! I’ve never been to a volleyball game before! Where’s Karasuno?”
You chuckle, finding her reaction adorable. “You’re gonna love it. They’ll be out soon. They take forever to get dressed.” Forever was an understatement. There were several instances where Hinata went missing (taking a shit) and no one could figure out where he was. 
Just as you say that, the doors to the boys’ locker room opened. The gym filled with cheers as they came out. Some girls drop dead at the sight of them. They were good-looking volleyball players, you give them that. But if only they knew how many of them were huge dorks. Hinata is full of power and energy. He is the first to set his hands on the ball. Kageyama set it to him, per usual, and they freak out the whole gym. Hikari’s jaw drops in amazement.
You chuckle and close her mouth for her, “They call it the Freak Quick Attack.”
“It’s definitely freaky! How is Kageyama so good?” Hikari asks.
You shake your head, “He’s a monster. All of them are crazy talented. Even blondie,” your eyes set on him. His usual stoic look lays on his face as they went through their drills. You could hear whispers from the visitor section about him, ‘does he even wanna be here?’ and others that ask, ‘why is he so tense?’ It’s laughable. 
“Are you sure he likes volleyball?” Even Hikari questions as she watches him run (barely) around the court. 
You snort, “That kid? Yeah. No doubt in my head. There was a time he didn’t, but now, he’s hooked for life.”
Your eyes glance to the shot-clock. The boys were finishing their drills. There was no better time than now. You tell Hikari you would be right back and then leave the stands, walking down their side of the court. The older boys - Daichi, Suga, and Asahi give you friendly smiles, your presence as always strengthening them on the court. Kageyama and Hinata are wrapped up in their own world, preparing for the game. 
Tsukishima is off on the side with Yamaguchi. He glances your way as you approach, raising an eyebrow at your interruption. You ignore his annoyed expression and greet Yamaguchi with a soft smile.
“Hey Yams, good serves today?” You say.
Yamaguchi sets down his water bottle and smiles brightly, “Only the best!”
“They always are,” Tsukishima says with a small nod of acknowledgment to his other best friend, and then his eyes settle on you, “you brought Hikari?” he asks.
You ignore the slight pang in your chest. It’s nothing. Hikari is your friend, and so is Tsukishima. Why should you care that he’s asking about her? You should be happy that he likes your friend. You try to push it out of your mind, but Yamaguchi’s knowing expression serves as a painful reminder that you do care—and it sucks.
Yamaguchi knew everything. He knew from the moment you went to him freaking out about your feelings, and how they weren’t going away. It had been years since that conversation, and nothing had changed.
“Yeah, uh,” you clear your throat uncomfortably, “she’s never seen you guys play. Thought I’d invite her.”
Tsukishima hums, but that seems to be where his interest in her ends. 
“I hope Hikari enjoys it! I’ll make sure to do hit double the serves for her!” Yamaguchi says, drilling innocence and light back into the conversation and lifting your mood.
You smile. He always knew how to make you feel better. “I’ll tell her the game plan. Fight well guys I-“
You don’t get to privilege of finishing you sentence because a volleyball comes throttling straight at your face. Huh. For a problem-solver, you often ended up on the wrong side of many problems. Yamaguchi shrieks as the ball takes you out like a bowling pin. You go flailing to the floor. Ow.
Yamaguchi rushes over, eyes full of concern. “Y/N!! Woah!! Are you hurt?”
You manage to give him a thumbs-up, even though your nose feels like it's about to fall off. “Yup! All good! Totally did not get hit by a ball going at 500mph...”
Tsukishima, who witnessed the whole thing, seems more amused than concerned. “You alright down there?” he asks, failing to stifle his laughter. 
You groan, wincing as you touch your sore nose, “Tsukishima..please..?”
“Okay, okay,” he says and reaches for you. You gasp as he lifts you up and back onto your feet. You land closer to him than you would like and your face flushes (from your recent accident, of course haha nothing else).
He looks over you for any injuries. “Are you good?”
“Y-Yeah,” you want to cringe at your own stutter, “completely fine.”
Tsukki didn't miss the tremble in your voice. “You sure?”
“Mhm,” you hold each other’s gaze for a second longer than necessary. Yeah, no. You quickly avert your eyes from his and back to the crowd where Hikari is waiting. It’s like he already knows what you’re thinking and nods. It was a freaky thing you guys did from time to time. It was just like you guys shared each others braincells. As you head back up to your seat, worry etches on Hikari’s face.
“That looked nasty, Y/N! Are you okay?” she asks.
You assure her that it was just a minor accident, and you both focus on cheering for your team. The excitement of the game quickly takes over, and you forget about your experience as a professional bowling pin. The match is intense—as usual, Karasuno gives it their all. You expect no less from your friends. Tsukki finds himself in his own little rivalry with another blocker. You can’t help but laugh when Tsukki gets the upper hand and completely dominates. This was the man who they said ‘hated’ volleyball? 
In the end, Karasuno wins, taking the whole game by the second set. The gym erupts in applause. The visitors side sighs, sad over their reign being cut so short. Among the boisterous crowd, you swear you’re the loudest, and the way Kageyama and Nishinoya laugh at you only confirms it.
As the team comes over to the stands to greet and thank their supporters, you notice Tsukishima’s eyes searching across the crowd. You wonder for a moment, who is he looking for? 
But then, it hits you. 
Oh. 
Your eyes meet. 
He was looking for you. 
With a rush of excitement, you cheer even louder. “Yeah, Tsukki!”
A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he gives you a subtle nod, a gesture meant only for you.
After the game, you all come to together to discuss the following moves after. Of course, your friends are beyond starving (nothing new). Hikari is still buzzing with energy and excitement as you guys move from the gym to a nearby BBQ restaurant. Her first volleyball experience was a good one. Not only had she seen a good game, but now, she was the main attention of several of the players. Nishinoya and Tanaka are annoying as usual, but Tsukishima also seems to be entertaining this? Your eyebrows furrow when he says more than ten words to her.
As the night continues, a pit keeps growing more and more in your stomach.
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Hikari’s laughter fills the air the restaurant, you absentmindedly chew on a piece of lettuce before switching to some meat. The rest of the boys are chatty too, but it feels like Tsukki and Hikari’s conversation is ten times louder. They talked the entire way to the restaurant, and she even chose to sit next to him. What were they discussing you ask? Dinosaurs and geology. You almost forgot that was Hikari’s major—she adores subjects like that. 
You, on the other hand, did not. You’ve always been drawn to the arts—singing, dancing, writing, and especially photography. You could never have these conversations with Tsukki. Not in the meaningful way that Hikari could.
Throughout the night, you catch Tsukishima glancing at you more than once. It’s as if he’s silently observing and noting your behavior. That’s just his way—he wouldn’t say anything in front of others, but he seems to sense that something is off. When you only manage to muster half a smile at one of Hikari’s joke, he's convinced.
By the time the night winds down, you all part ways, some opting for taxis while others head out to tame the night. As for Hikari? She had a bit too much to drink. 
“I love you so much, Y/N,” Hikari drunkenly slurs, hung over your shoulder as you try to usher her into a taxi.
“I love you too, please get home safe,” you say. On the other side of you, Asahi, follows after her in the taxi. You thank him for being willing to make sure she got home. 
As you reach for your phone to call a taxi for yourself, Tsukki unexpectedly takes it from your hand. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion.
“Tsukki..?” 
“Do you want ice cream?” he asks, surprisingly casual.
His offer catches you off guard. Your eyebrows furrow even further, “We just spent like $400 in there…”
“I’ll pay,” Tsukki replies, nonchalantly. 
“Okay…” you agree, still unsure about the whole situation. As you walk, there’s an unnamed tension between you two. It's unnatural. You find yourself wondering about the ice cream parlor—what kind of place is open at 10 p.m.? Nevertheless, Tsukki’s confidence makes you trust him. And sure enough, the ice cream parlor is open (at 10pm?) with it’s door wide open for customers.
The parlor is cozy, definitely a hidden gem in the large city, dressed with old photos and vintage art pieces, creating a charm that made you wish you had your camera on you.
The elderly woman at the front greets you both with a warm smile, her eyes twinkling with kindness. “What can I get you both?” she asks sweetly, her face full of surprise. It wasn’t often someone stopped into a shop for ice cream at 10 p.m., nonetheless her shop. 
“Two vanilla cups, please,” Tsukki pulls out a large bill from his wallet, “keep the change.”
Your mouth waters at the sight of it. Ice cream never got old to you. The woman expertly scoops the creamy vanilla into cups and drizzles a rich caramel sauce on top. You find a cozy corner to sit at.
With each spoonful, you fill with happiness. You can’t help but let out a contented sigh. This was what you needed. Tsukki seems to know that.
“Is this how you bribe me? Through ice cream?” you ask him, as you lick a tiny bit vanilla off your lips.
A chuckle falls off his lips, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a small smile, “It’s working, isn’t it? I might end up stealing your job, Y/N.”
“My job?” You ask through a confused laugh.
“Problem solver extraordinaire? I fixed whatever this…” he points to the distance between the both of you, “was.”
You silently take another spoonful. The power of vanilla.
As the evening further sets in, the ease of being around him washes over you, and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed between you. But deep down, you know that’s not entirely true.
When you both finish your ice cream, you say goodnight to the elderly store owner, her smile widening with knowingness. “You two are a beautiful couple. I hope you enjoyed.”
Tsukishima rubs the back of his neck, almost shyly, “Thank you, but we’re not dating.”
The elderly woman, seemingly unmoved, gives you a playful wink. “Hmm~, okay dears, if you say so. Here, this is on the house.” She hands you a bag of cookies. Delicious. Tsukishima made a good choice coming here. You two bow deeply before heading back out into the night, the pleasant taste of ice cream still lingering on your tongues.
The roaring air pulls you closer to him. You shiver and without thinking much of it, he yanks his own jacket off and places it over your shoulders. You hated him.
“I’m walking you home." Tsukishima says.
“Do I get a choice in this?” you ask through a mouthful of the cookie the old woman had given you, free of charge.
He whisks crumbs off the corner of your lips. “No. Why do you eat so messy?” you stick your tongue out at him.
The warm glow of the evening street lights lead you back to your apartment. You felt like you deserved a long rest after tonight, and several other nights spent studying. A long yawn left your mouth, and Tsukki yawns shortly after you.
"Copier." you say childishly.
"Shut up." he murmurs.
It feels as if you two are the only souls in the sleeping city. The silence between you both is comfortable, but it didn’t last long.
He glances down at you as you near your apartment. His words and eyes are both careful. This wasn't a question he was making up on the spot.
"You were off tonight. Why?” he asks.
You knew the question was coming. It was just a matter of when.
“I don’t know," you lie.
“You’re lying,” he says, stopping in the middle of the street to make it even more dramatic. A groan escapes your lips, knowing he wouldn’t let it go. You hope a random car wouldn’t fly past and kill you both.
“I am. But can’t you just leave it?” you almost plea.
“I can’t. The same way you never can,” he replies.
You sigh. You were far too alike for your own good. Looks like you had no choice. You knew Tsukki wasn't moving a single foot until you told him what was up. It's embarrassing to say it out loud.
“I guess I just… I felt a bit left out, you know? You and Hikari-” you start, but are quickly cut off.
Tsukishima’s face hardens, “Seriously? That’s what you were worried about? Me and Hikari?”
His words ignited a blaze of emotions within you. He didn't have to say it like that. Your cheeks burn.
“Tsukishima, I know, it was silly, okay-”
Tsukishima comes closer. His hands rest on your shoulders. Something is different.
“It wasn’t silly, it was stupid. Hikari means nothing to me. At all. I tolerated her. I love you. You understand that, right?”
Your eyes widen. Neither of you said it often. It wasn’t in your vocabulary—it wasn’t the way either of you were. You showed your love in different ways, but hearing him say it like this, you wished you both said it more.
“Tsukki…” Your heart skips a beat, but you quickly reminded yourself that the ‘as a friend’ was attached. It always would be.
Tsukki’s eyes..soften (?) on you.
“I love you. Okay? So...” it’s like a switch turns back on in his head and he realizes what he’s saying. He averts his gaze, and for a moment you see a twinge of pink dust his cheeks. It's just the cold (the wind, guys?) making him that way. That's the lie you tell yourself.
He begins walking away, nearly leaving you behind, “Stop being an idiot and come on.”
You were doomed.
Maybe that volleyball should've taken you out when it had the chance?
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a/n: ohhhh i had alot of fun with this chapteeerrrr, lmk how you guys felt about it!!!! paramore's still into you, was a huuuge inspiration for this chapter - as well as a bunch of other songs. hopefully will finish the whole fic this month, but i start college rlly soon :(( hope u guys enjoyed!
taglist !!! @kei-tsuki21 @marga-j @xxizuchanxx @horr0rvacu1 @lavenderhotcoco @sami-stable @awkwardaardvarkforever @rorygilmoreclown @rachlubsuu @sixxze @lonelyladyghost @kurenix @nemisimp @doofusthebozo @scarred-keys
© fornshinoyaz 2023. please do not steal my work.
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loptrcoptr · 1 year ago
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Your “my god how out of touch am I” moment of the day is: I keep getting comments on this fic I’m writing that are like “worth waiting for the update”, “this was worth the wait” and I’m so confused because I have been posting chapters… every ten days at most? what wait, that’s a fast schedule, I thought! And the chapters are between 5k and 7k words each! Each! The fifth chapter is currently sitting pretty at 10 fucking k so I’ll probably have to split it in half…
But I’m dying over this I think it is wild lol. Do people not remember what it was like to have fics that updated every six months, if that, for nearly a decade? Is this something no one else remembers? Have we gotten so into instant gratification culture that waiting a week for 5 thousand words of fanfic is a long time?
This is all so wild to me so I guess I’ll go write another 5k about it lmfao
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