#i’m good at these things but it’s good to confirm and not get my ego too high

[kethabali]

i ate very good the last few days

[lovelivision]

BAD ROMANCE.ᐟ

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: gojo satoru/reader

𝐖𝐂: 9.4k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: your love life is in a tragic state, all your dates go poorly and just when you think you found a nice guy you could like, that ends poorly too. good thing you have your best friend gojo to look out for you !

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, f!reader, she/her pronouns used, cheating (not done by reader or gojo), dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, spitting, praise, p in v sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, big dick!gojo, tease/mean!gojo (he likes embarrassing reader), jealous!gojo, gojo is down BAD, use of pet names, that's all !! (i think :3)

Checking the time again, you sigh, it’s bordering on an hour since you first sat down to wait for your date. The thought that you had been stood up entered your mind maybe half an hour ago but now it’s practically been cemented.

Maybe you should just cut your losses and leave but this is a nice place, it’d be a shame to waste the reservation. Hope that your date is going to miraculously show up has left you though. Opening your texts, you think of who to message, the idea to message Gojo briefly crossing your mind before you decide he is the worst possible person to tell about this.

Instead, you message Shoko, asking if she’s free and telling her of your failed date. It takes her a few minutes to reply and when she does, instead of a straightforward response, you receive a cryptic and ambiguous saluting emoji. Deciding to take that as confirmation of her presence, you begin waiting… again.

You think you’ve reached your waiting quota of the year, no more waiting on people. Why do people never seem to value your time? While lamenting to yourself silently, you don’t notice the arrival of someone incredibly familiar, someone incredibly exasperating.

“I’m hurt you know.”

The words startle you and as you look up to find the source of them, you’re confronted with Gojo standing beside you. Pouting like he’s feeling extremely slighted by you for some indiscernible reason.

You almost sputter at him, his presence completely unexpected, “What are you doing here?”

He ignores your question, continuing with his faux pain, “My best friend gets stood up and instead of messaging me… she messages Shoko? That stings.”

Sighing off his dramatics, you ask again, “What are you doing here, Gojo?”

“What else would I be here for?” He smiles big at you, moving to sit in the chair opposite you, flopping down and making himself comfortable, “I’m here to be your date!”

Propping your head up on your hand, you grumble at him, “How did you even know I was stood up?”

“I was with Shoko when you messaged her,” he shrugs easily.

You squint at him, “Why are you here and not her?”

“Because it is my duty as your best friend to be there for you.”

So stubborn about the weirdest things, you’ve known each other forever and sure, maybe he is your best friend, but this is something that has bruised your ego a bit. It’s silly, but for some reason… you don’t really want for Gojo to see you like this.

Sulking, you huff, “It’s not a big deal, I just didn’t wanna waste the reservation.”

“Don’t lie, you dressed up all cute and the dude couldn’t even be bothered to show up?” He frowns like he’ll get angry if he thinks about it for too long, “It’s a big deal.”

“You’re more upset about it then I am,” you play at indifference and while you don’t really care about your failed date, you are thinking really hard about how he said you dressed cute.

“That’s just ‘cause you’re always settling for less than what you deserve,” he grows a little more irritated, like his observation annoys him more than it annoys you.

Defending yourself with a grumble, “That’s not true.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he smiles in a manner that exudes disbelief. Because it does, Gojo has witnessed you settle for less nearly every single day of your lives and every time he has to grit his teeth and cope.

Crossing your arms, you snark at him, “Don’t patronise me, Gojo.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he still has that smile plastered on his face.

You glare at him from across the table but sit in silence, not really having anything else to say to him right now. Annoyed at yourself for losing the back and forth between the two of you for not the first time and definitely not the last.

Gojo, however, is not capable of sitting in silence for too long and so, he whines at you, “Anyways, I thought I was always your first call when things went wrong.”

Looking away from him, you scratch at the back of your neck awkwardly, “You are… for other things.”

Catching onto your meaning, he asks, “So, you never call me when things go wrong on dates?”

“…Correct.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not really something I thought would matter to you this much.” The truth is, you’ve been on much worse dates, dates where they actually show up but prove themselves to be some of the worst people. You always call Shoko though… that or you just brush it off.

Telling Gojo about your dating life feels weird, it’s not like he tells you about his.

His mouth downturns at your remark, “Anything that involves you matters to me.”

“It’s not like you tell me about your dating life,” you counter, starting to feel somewhat badly.

“I would, if I had one,” he leans back into his chair more, “I’m not currently dating though.”

Sheepishly, you say, “Oh…well…I am.”

“I know that now,” his eyes focus on you, “Just how many dates have you gone on recently?”

“Recently?” he nods at you, “Uhm… a few every couple of weeks, not heaps but… frequently enough that getting stood up isn’t the worst thing to happen to me lately.” You laugh slightly at a memory, “You know, on one of them, the guy actually got back with his ex during our date, like he–”

You cut yourself off when you realise Gojo isn’t experiencing the same amount of enjoyment at the recounting of your date a few weeks ago. “Why is this bugging you?”

“It’s not,” his tone is certain but the expression he’s wearing is anything but. Clearly annoyed by something.

Challenging his logic, you ask, “Do you want me to tell you about my dating life?”

He thinks on it for a second, “No.”

Tilting your head at him, “See? That’s what I thought–”

“–But I want you to call me when things go badly,” his gaze even on you, unwavering.

“You’re annoying,” you huff out a breath.

His face brightens up again, “And yet I’m still your best friend.”

You can only roll your eyes at him because he’s right, he’s completely annoying and also completely your best friend.

★

After that failed date that turned into you having dinner with Gojo, you decided you would listen to him and call him whenever a date goes south. He seemed actually bothered by the fact you weren’t relying on him more, so you decided that if something does go wrong, you’d tell him about it.

However, your dating life has been going pretty swimmingly the past couple weeks. You’ve actually found someone you wouldn’t mind being with, having gone on a few dates with him now. You’ve pretty much been exclusively seeing him, he’s taken you out for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Previous dates barely made it through one meal, but this guy managed to appeal to you enough to take you out multiple times.

It’s your fault that you got your hopes up, thinking that maybe he was different but as you sit on the couch in his apartment, his assumed girlfriend yelling at him, you can see he’s just like everyone else in the dating scene these days. It’s that or you just have really bad luck when it comes to your romantic life.

For the third time, you try to leave but he holds you back, “Wait no, please don’t go, this is just a misunderstanding!”

You shrug him off you, his touch making you feel disgusting.

Going to say something in reply, but his girlfriend speaks first, “So now you’re cheating on me and trying to keep her here?”

He sputters, like he forgot she was here for a moment, “No! Babe, I’m not cheating on you!”

Awkwardly, you scratch at the back of your neck, “Listen, I’m going to be so honest, I think you’re a bad person and any interest I had in you is gone. I’d just really like to leave now.”

He’s wearing an annoyed look on his face, “How do you even expect to get home? I drove you here.”

She scoffs at him from by the door, foot tapping impatiently, “Now you’re offering her a ride home? Are you fucking serious right now?”

Walking to the front door, you shuffle around his girlfriend, “I’m just gonna… slide right past you.” Pausing after opening the door and turning back to address her, “Uhm… Just in case he tries lying to you… we went on multiple dates over the past couple weeks.” Standing awkwardly for an extra moment as her face twists in realisation, “Bye!” You rush out the door, speed walking to the elevator.

The screaming and yelling gets louder from their apartment, able to hear them until you finally get in the elevator and start heading down to the ground floor. In the lobby, you pull out your phone and sigh dejectedly, scrolling for Gojo’s contact, you need a ride home.

He picks up pretty quickly, “Hello?”

You get straight to the point, not feeling particularly great right about now, “…I need a ride home.”

“Well, good evening to you too,” he replies, voice full of mirth, “You know. people normally exchange pleasantries over the phone before immediately asking for things, I’ve been told – by you actually – that just asking for things straight up can be read as rude, so–”

“–Satoru.”

The use of his name has him going quiet, stopping his tangent instead to ask, “Where are you?”

You’re tired, your mood travelling through the phone as you answer, “Some apartment, I’ll text you the address…”

“You okay?” He checks.

You can’t help the pause before your reply, “…Yeah.”

His concern for you growing at your seeming uncertainty, “You gonna tell me what happened?”

It’s a little embarrassing, you think, but yeah, you’ll tell him about it, “Later… I just wanna go home now.”

“Alright, I’ll be there soon.” He hangs up before you get to thank him.

You text him the address and then head out the front of the building, waiting for him to get you. While you’re waiting, you find yourself wondering if that girl will stay with him, you hope she doesn’t, she deserves better than him.

When Gojo pulls up, you silently slip into the passenger seat, you’re expecting him to immediately drive away but he turns and looks at you. His eyes examining you carefully, scrutinising you.

Turning your head to the side, “What?”

“Just making sure you’re okay.” His hands reach out and for a second you think he’s going to touch you, but he pulls on the seatbelt and clicks it into place for you.

You mumble out at him, dismissive, “I’m fine.”

He hums at you, in that way that tells you he doesn’t believe you even a little bit but he’s letting it go for now. Instead focusing on getting you home.

Back at your apartment, Gojo follows you all the way inside, you thought maybe he would just drop you home and leave you alone, but he’s followed you into your living room. You don’t know if you have the energy for him right now, feeling so drained. Probably feeling this way because you’re incapable of finding a decent guy to date.

Couch looking so inviting, you flop down onto it face first, mumbling out, “Gojo, will you just be my boyfriend?”

He seems taken aback by your sudden ask, choking on his own spit, coughing out a confused, “What?”

Sighing, you cryptically answer, “I don’t think I’m built for the dating scene.”

When he finishes hacking up a lung, he taps your legs, to which you hold them up so he can sit down. His hand tugging them back down once he’s sat, “What happened, sweetheart?”

Your voice is still muffled by the couch cushions, “Been seeing a guy for a couple weeks now–”

“–The same one?” Gojo cuts you off.

Humming out a, “Yes and–”

Again, he cuts you off, “–That’s pretty serious…”

I know but­–”

“–Why didn’t you tell me about him?” His tone growing slightly alarmed by the apparent seriousness of your dating life.

Becoming somewhat annoyed, you push yourself out of the cushions and sit up to face him, your legs still resting in his lap, “You said you didn’t wanna hear about my dating life.” You point an accusatory finger at him.

“Yeah, but casually dating and actively seeing someone is different–” He’s not really sure if he’s making a fair point or not but sticking to it like he is.

“–Does it matter?” You’re looking at him incredulously, not sure if there is a difference.

He’s steadfast in his opinion, “Of course it matters.”

“I don’t think it should, especially since–”

“–If you’re seeing the same guy multiple times that means you were actually interested in him­–” He’s annoyed at himself for not realising you were seeing the same guy, for not asking questions, not realising how serious you were getting about one guy. So caught up in this one fact that he’s lost sight of his original purpose of being here.

“–Can you stop cutting me off!” You raise your voice at him, getting sick of how much he’s been interrupting you, “I’ve been trying to tell you that he had a girlfriend the whole time,” you purse your lips and look away from him, feeling embarrassed, “That’s why I asked you to come get me.”

“Oh…” He feels bad now.

“…Yeah, she showed up while I was there, and it was really uncomfortable, and I didn’t exactly feel safe.” You sigh, slumping, “And now I just feel really bad about dating.”

Completely serious when he suggests, “Maybe you should stop.”

“Stop dating?”

Consistent in his confirmation, “Yes.”

Meeting his gaze again, “How else am I going to meet someone?”

He rolls his eyes at your question, irritated for reasons unknown to you, “Why do you need to date someone now anyways?”

You don’t really see his point, what does he mean ‘why?’… why else do people date? “Maybe I’m lonely, maybe I seek companionship, maybe I’m like every other normal person?”

“You have me though,” you’d think he was joking if he weren’t so straight faced.

Unsure how to go about answering when it seems pretty straight forward to you, “Gojo… that’s not the same thing, we’re friends, we don’t look at each other that way.”

“Says you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’d date you in a heartbeat,” he folds his arms over his chest, “In fact, you’re the only person I want to date.”

You can’t tell if he’s teasing or not, “Get real, that’s not what I meant.”

His head tilts at you, “What did you mean then?”

“I’m talking about romantic and sexual attraction,” you’re avoiding his gaze again.

So casual in how he bluntly asks, “You think I’m not sexually attracted to you?”

His question catches you off guard slightly, “It’s not just about sexual attraction, Gojo,” you shake your head, “if that were the case, I’d just be having one night stands all the time, I want a relationship with someone…”

He nods his head like he suddenly understands, “Ah, so you think I’m not romantically interested in you?”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

Disbelieving when you look at him, “Are you serious right now? We’re friends.”

“Yeah, we are friends, but I also happen to be romantically and sexually attracted to you.”

How do you even respond to a confession like that? He’s not even flustered, completely nonchalant in how he’s just told you that he’s interested in you. “I don’t think–”

“–Are you going to tell me you’re not interested in me? Even a little bit?”

“We’re friends.”

“Is that the only thing stopping you?” He doesn’t wait for your answer, “Because if it is, then it’s a little arbitrary, no?”

The beginning of a frown settles on your features, “What are you trying to get me to say? That I’d date you if we weren’t friends, that I’d fuck you?”

He smiles at you, “Sure, but if you would if we weren’t friends, I’m saying you should even though we are.”

Frown deepening, “You’re being serious?”

“I’m being so serious,” he leans in slightly, hand moving to your face, thumb smoothing over the crease between your brows.

Looking at his lips before catching yourself and turning your head to the side, away from his touch, away from his enticing lips.

He sighs at your reaction, “You know, I’ve been interested in you from the beginning, and maybe I’m an idiot for not saying anything but watching you seriously try dating someone else might just kill me.”

You had no idea he liked you, you’ve liked him at different points in your life too, but he always seemed so out of reach from you, and you never wanted to ruin the friendship, so you forced yourself to move on. It feels a little unfair that you’re finding out now he’s liked you the whole time, “What are you asking of me?”

“I’m asking you to give me a chance,” his hand gently guides your face to look at him again, “I’m asking you to seriously try dating me.”

You’re trying to make a decision, trying to figure out how to answer him, if you should even give him a chance but the way he’s looking at you, how his gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips is distracting you.

Brows pulling up, voice quieter than before, “Gojo, you need to stop looking at me like that if you want an answer.”

“Like what?” He plays dumb.

“Like you really wanna kiss me,” you murmur back.

“Can’t help it…” he leans in a little bit more, “Maybe if you let me kiss you, I’ll stop.”

“Satoru,” you warn.

“Hmm?” His eyes meet yours for a moment, trying to see what you want.

He’s making you dizzy, “I can’t make a choice when you’re this close.”

Humming at you, “Why not?”

“Can’t think,” you blurt it out before really thinking about how it will come across.

He’s smiling smugly, “Then don’t.”

You don’t know who leans in first, all you know is his lips are on yours and they’re soft. Kissing you gently, trying to learn how you like to be kissed. Growing more insistent the longer you let him kiss you, the years of his need bleeding into it.

One of his hands traveling down your body, resting on your hip, the other cradling your face. He’s leaning into you more, pushing your body down into the couch, him following behind it, never parting from your lips very long.

Hand now holding himself above you, kiss growing urgent, tongue licking into your mouth, meeting yours in a way that makes your body tingle. If you thought his proximity was making you dizzy before than his kiss might have you actually passing out. Skin growing hot at how his hand on your face angles you, how he deepens the kiss effortlessly.

If Gojo were more aware of himself, of the precarious position he’s put himself in, he might be a little bit more careful with how feverish his kisses are and how needy he’s getting but when he’s finally getting to kiss you after years of not being able to, he can’t really control himself. The little control he does have, slipping when you moan into his mouth, his own moan shared in the kiss.

It's you who parts the kiss, it had to be because he certainly wasn’t going to be able to do it. If he had his way, he’d have his mouth on you until he died. In the back of his mind, he knew that kissing you would be good, but he didn’t think he’d get so lost in it. Somewhat embarrassed at himself for how aroused he’s gotten over your lips on his.

Your huffed breaths are intermingled with how close you both are to each other, Gojo hovering over you, speaking into your mouth, “Have you made a decision yet?”

You’re having trouble thinking still, especially with how his lips brush ever so slightly against yours, “I…uhmm���”

When he realises how dazed you are, two things happen. One; his ego grows about ten times bigger and two; he pulls back from you, still close enough that if you tugged on him, you could kiss him again but enough to hopefully give you room to think.

“Come on, don’t keep a guy waiting,” he’s taunting you lightly, taking joy in how hazy your eyes are as you look up at him.

“Okay,” you nod.

“Hmm? Okay what?”

Taking another moment to clear your brain fog, you answer again, “Okay, I will seriously try dating you.”

“Can’t date anyone else while you do,” he conditions.

“Okay,” agreeing easily.

He adds, “Have to seriously think about me being your boyfriend.”

Again, agreeing, “Okay.”

“Have to keep kissing me right now,” smile growing on his features.

“Ok–” frowning at him when you realise, “–Hey.”

“You don’t want to?” His hand tilts your head up by your chin, looking down into your eyes, “Because you look like you want to.”

Pouting at him, “Don’t be cruel.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” his smile evil as he continues to look down at you.

Leveling him with an even stare, you state, “I don’t sleep with guys on the first date.”

“Got a dirty mind, huh? All I asked for was a kiss.”

You glare at him and then try to avoid his gaze, voice smaller than before, “You don’t kiss like that’s all you want.”

His smile is crooked as he asks, “And how do I kiss?”

Feeling your skin flare at his taunting question, at how he leans in again, his mouth right over yours, “Dizzyingly.”

He breathes out an amused laugh before he’s slotting his mouth back over yours, how you described his kiss is accurate. He kisses you in such a way that you can’t think straight even if you really want to, which is why it’s probably a bad idea to keep letting him kiss you if you don’t want to sleep with him before you even get a first date.

Abruptly parting your mouth from his, gasping out, “Wait,” taking a second to catch your breath. Gojo groans softly at the loss of your lips, his forehead resting on yours waiting for you to speak.

“What’s wrong?” He asks when you don’t continue.

“You need to stop kissing me.”

“Oh?” He hums at you in thought, his lips now trailing down the side of your face, only to rest right by your ear, “And why’s that?”

His voice has goose bumps raising on your skin, “If you keep kissing me like that…” your volume gets quieter as you mumble out, “…I’ll wanna have sex with you.”

He has the fucking audacity to laugh at you, “That worked up by a few kisses, huh?” Taunting you like he isn’t the hardest he’s ever been, cock twitching at your confession.

“Shuddup.”

His words are dripping with delight, “At least we know you’re sexually attracted to me.”

He licks lightly at your ear, and you feel like you almost jump out of your skin, gasping at it. Hands reaching out to push back on his chest, “You’re a mean man, Gojo.”

“At this point…” He looks you over, unmoved by your hands, “…I think it would be meaner to deprive yourself.”

“We are not sleeping together for the first time on my couch before we even go on a date,” you’re trying to stay steadfast but he’s making it hard when he keeps looking at you like that.

“So… you’re saying I should take you to the bedroom?” When you look at him in exasperation, he smiles softly, “I’m just kidding, we won’t do anything you don’t want to, but I will point out – for the last time – that you look an awful lot like you want to.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to… I just feel like if you’re gonna make me seriously consider you then I should date you properly too,” you avoid his gaze, feeling unusually sincere.

Abruptly, he states, “It wouldn’t be our first date though.”

“What?”

He’s a little distant when he answers, having trouble concentrating on the conversation when you’re pouting your lips at him like you are, “I count a couple weeks ago as our first date.”

“When I was stood up?” You scoff, “That does not count.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t even planned.”

“No but we ate dinner together and you were dressed awful cute, I count it as a date,” smirk present on his face as he continues to hover over you.

Ignoring his compliment, you continue to try and reason, “We were still just friends then though.”

“So, we aren’t ‘just friends’ now?” He’s being a smart ass, he knows what you mean but he’s not going to let up on this, taking it as a small victory in making you think of him as more than just a friend.

You return earnestly, “I don’t wanna count it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t meant to be you on that date…” before he can get hurt over those words, you clarify, “…don’t get me wrong, I had fun and I’m glad you showed up, but it wasn’t planned to be you… when we go on our first date… I want it to be meant for you.” You’re unsure if you verbalised yourself in a way that makes sense, feeling much more nervous all of a sudden.

He’s looking at you so intently and you’re worried you’ve upset him somehow, “I know you said I need to stop kissing you, but that’s what I want more than anything right now.” He leans in closer, pausing just shy of your lips.

His words make your heart stutter, throwing caution to the wind as you close the distance between the two of you again, kissing him fully. Letting his mouth consume your ability to think critically, all too happy to fall into him.

Your control of the situation is slipping more and more away from you and so is the ability to care, not minding at all how you’re becoming more and more okay with how hot your body is starting to feel.

Hands reaching up and fisting the material of his shirt, pulling him down into you, his hips colliding with yours. Almost entirely instinctually – and somewhat purposefully – your legs wrap around his lower half. One of his hands reaches for your thigh, gripping the fattest part of it harshly.

You both moan into the kiss and he parts his mouth from yours, voice straining when he speaks, “Sweetheart, if you really don’t want to do anything more than this then you need to tell me to get off you right now.”

Looking at him through your lashes, you play coy, “But I like having you on top of me.”

A shiver runs down his spine, “You’re evil,” he grunts, fighting the urge to grind down into you.

He’s been pining after you for years and it feels like torture to be this close to you, pelvis pressed up against yours, having you so pliant and needy under him. He can feel his sanity slipping from him the longer you stay like this, and your words make it harder for him to pull away.

“Satoru–” when you say his name his hips jut into yours, making you gasp against him.

He hisses an apology through his teeth, “Sorry – fuck – sorry, what’s up?”

Deciding to be forward, “Take me to my room?”

Trying to hide the excitement from his face, he checks with you, “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you give a small nod, feeling shy.

You really do want to though, more than anything. Only initially so hesitant because this doesn’t feel like the right way to do things but then again, your whole relationship with Gojo is a little less than conventional at times.

When he determines that you’re sure of yourself, he’s off you in the blink of an eye. Quick in his movements as he pulls you up along with him. Before you can even really register that you’re off the couch, you’re thrown over his shoulder as he walks hurriedly to your room.

“Someone’s eager,” you laugh at how ridiculous he’s being.

The chuckle he returns is humourless, “You have no fucking idea.”

You’re dropped down onto your bed unceremoniously, bouncing slightly at the force of it. Your arms reach out behind you to support yourself, palms splayed against your bedspread. Gojo is already tugging his shirt off and over his head, thrown and lost to some corner of your room.

“Gojo, breathe.”

“Don’t need to breathe,” he smiles large at you, “Do need your pants off though.”

Listening to him, you shimmy your pants down your legs, mumbling to him about how bossy he is.

“You know… I’m hearing a lot of complaining but I am also seeing a whole lot of direction following,” he teases.

You grumble at him, “If you’re going to be like this the whole time then I’m changing my mind.

“Don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart. You’re not fooling anyone, especially not with how you’re rubbing your thighs together.” His large hands grip your thighs, “Feeling horny?”

You don’t really want to answer him honestly but denying it feels like a trap, like he’d do something to prove you wrong and the last thing you want is for him to torture you. You’re already so pitifully slick from kissing him.

Fighting with your embarrassment, you give him your best pleading face, “Mhm, really horny.”

The smugness drops from his face, hands suddenly tugging you down the bed as he drops to his knees. Mouth leaving kisses from your knees to your inner thighs, your breath catching in your lungs. Not expecting him to be so forward, though you don’t know what you were expecting if not that.

“Gojo, you don’t have to–”

“I want to,” his eyes flick to yours, “Plus, if you wanna take me, you’re gonna need the prep,” smile growing at how your eyes grow wider.

Disbelief clear in your expression, accusing, “You’re full of it.”

He’s not worried about your scepticism, “You’ll find out for yourself in a bit.” He shrugs easily, “Now, can I put my tongue on your pretty pussy, or do you have more to say?”

He asks but his attention is already completely on your covered cunt, a single finger moving under the elastic of the waist band just to snap it back against you. A small noise of shock leaving you, “Ah! Do what you want…”

Oh, he looks so excited by your words, “You mean it?”

You’ll be honest and admit you weren’t really paying attention to what you were saying, brain hazy with how close he is to your core, skin pricking at how you can feel his hot breath against you. Feeling so unusually exposed and sensitive and you can’t tell if you’re that worked up or if he just has that effect on you.

“Mhm,” you’re nodding your head at him, giving him a green light, for what, you’re not entirely sure, all you know is that you want him to do something – anything.

“These are some really cute panties…kinda bothers me,” he’s still playing with the edges of them, annoyed when remembering you were with another guy tonight. Were you going to sleep with him tonight?

Pulling yourself up onto your elbows, you question, “What?”

Eyes flicking towards yours, “I’m a bit of a jealous guy.”

“I know this,” he always has been quick to get worked up over things regarding you, though it makes a little more sense after learning he’s liked you for so long.

He smiles at you, but his eyes are humourless, “Of course you do,” he fists at the material of your panties, “But the idea of another guy getting so close to seeing you in these… has me feeling really annoyed.”

The sound of fabric tearing fills your ears, he’s just ripped your panties off you completely. There is no salvaging them, completely useless as he throws them over his shoulder.

“Hey! those were my good pair!” They were one of the nicer pairs you own.

“Who cares about that?” His tone is dismissive, hands spreading your legs obscenely, eyes greedily looking at your uncovered pussy, “Your cunt is much cuter.”

God, you feel like you might pass out, face suddenly extremely hot, “Don’t be crude.”

“Hmm? …but I think you like it though…” his thumb swipes through your folds and you gasp at him, “Got so much wetter when I said it.”

He’s quick to begin rubbing circles into your clit, thumb giving even pressure. The stimulation has your arms shaking, threatening to give out from under you. Biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning, feeling embarrassed at how intently he’s shamelessly staring at your cunt.

Continuing to speculate, he says, “That or you like being praised…” he smirks evilly, “You like being praised, sweetheart? Being told how good you’re being for me?”

Your heart leaps in your chest, brows upturning, trying to hide your outward reaction to his words, “Hah– No…”

“Such a bad liar,” eyeing your face, “Wearing a really great expression right now though.”

Fighting the urge to grind down, you deny, “Not lying.”

He ignores you, “Could be both though,” he’s continuing to ponder on what you react most to, “Which is it, sweetheart? You like how crude I am, or do you like the praise?”

You don’t plan on answering him, eyes closing harshly against his intense gaze, feeling way too exposed. His touch leaves you and you open your eyes in alarm, trying to see what he’s doing. You see his smile before he’s leaning in and licking up the length of your pussy, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

Surprised moans slip from you, arms almost giving out completely, head rolling back. His arms wrap around your legs to hold you steady, face pushing closer into you, tongue flicking at your clit before pressing into your pussy hole.

He’s relishing in your sounds, in how wet you are, how you taste and smell, almost forgetting why he did this in the first place. Pulling away from you with a lewd smack of his lips, smiling big at the whine you let out from the loss of him.

Huffing slightly as he says, “Asked a question, not licking your pussy again until you answer it.”

“I don’t know,” your head lolls forward, eyes wet.

Head moving to the side to nip lightly at your thigh, “Shall we find out then?”

You jolt at the sensation, face twisting in confusion at him.

“You don’t gotta do anything, sweetie, just stay like this,” his hands push back on your thighs though, opening you up to him even more. “Been doing so good for me, sound so pretty,” he coos at you.

Brows furrowing at his words, heart skipping beats at his sudden praise, feeling fuzzy all over.

He hums in thought, “So fucking wet for me, dripping everywhere, creamy fucking pussy.”

You twitch at the switch, wanting to crawl away from him.

“I think I’ve just realised something,” he glances up at you, “Got such nice reactions to both things I said, do you know how much wetter you got, cunt twitching and drooling for me.”

You try pulling from him, but his hold is firm, “Gojo!” You warn.

He might be enjoying this too much but learning about what gets you going is way too enticing, especially when he doesn’t have to do much to have you looking so pathetic. “Trying to run away from me,” he tsks, “But you’re fucking dripping, so reactive, so sweet.” His eyes are glazing over, working himself up.

“‘Toru!” You call for him again, you feel like you’re on fire, beyond embarrassed.

He groans at the nickname, not hearing it from you in so long, you used to always call him that. He liked it a little too much, cock leaking for you. He feels as wrecked as he looks when he looks up at you, “I think you like both,” is his conclusion.

Reaching up, he grabs at your hand and pulls it down to your cunt, his fingers guiding your own through your slick. You gasp at it, not expecting for yourself to be so soaked. Biting at your lower lip when he moves your fingers over your clit, teasing you.

Dazed when he asks, “Ever been this wet, pretty?”

You shake your head, “No… I didn’t know I…”

Fingers moving yours to your entrance, “Poor thing, didn’t know how slutty her pussy was.” Feeling the way your cunt clenches at his words, his face bright with it, “Fucking great though, in love with it,” and again, your brows raising in realisation, “Yeah… you know now, don’t you?”

“You’re making me feel embarrassed,” you pout, head dizzy.

“No, I’m making you feel so fucking horny, not my fault that you like being embarrassed and praised at the same time,” he pulls your fingers away from your core, moving them to his mouth, sucking them clean.

You remove your fingers from him, coming to rest back in the bed, feeling breathless as you look down at him. “What do you want from me?”

“Want you to admit it, want you tell me how much you like when I talk to you,” his hand tickles up the skin of your inner thigh.

“…Like it,” you mumble out.

Humming in thought, “Hmm, not good enough, don’t think I believe you.”

Repeating, louder, “I like it.”

Tilting his head at you, “You like what?”

“I like when you talk to me,” you say with more force, brows furrowed.

He pretends to be unsure of your answer, “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” You try again, but as his expression remains unchanging, you add, “I like when you talk to me, I like how hot and fuzzy your words make me feel, I like just the sound of your voice, makes me want to squirm. Love it even! Is that what you wanted to hear?” You huff.

“Holy fuck, yes,” if he weren’t already on his knees, he would’ve fallen to them again.

You let out a squeal at the way his mouth is already back on you, tongue pushing into your hole insistently. Fervent in his actions, clearly worked up by your words. If he were on the bed, he’d be shamelessly grinding his hips down into it, cock so fucking hard it’s aching. Pulsing so pitifully for you and if he weren’t so completely distracted by how you taste he’d throw caution to the wind and fuck into you right now.

“Gojo! Oh–” His name comes out all broken, ruined and shaky from how he laps at your cunt, drinking down all your slick.

Your elbows officially give out and you’re flopping back onto the mattress, fingers digging into the bed. Struggling to hold in all the little noises he’s pulling from you, hips trying to desperately rut into his pretty face with no luck, locked in place by his strong hold.

Gasping out at him, “M–more. Gojo – hah – more, please.”

Grunting against you, vibrations running up your spine, wanting desperately to kick your legs against the stimulation but unable to. He’s worked you up so much, so fucking desperate for release that his touch is making you crazy.

A finger presses at your hole, slipping inside easily, both his finger and tongue fucking into you. Another finger added, opening you up, scissoring them, tongue sneaking deeper inside your cunt.

He feels drunk, head heavy and brain foggy, tongue fucking you deeply. Delighting in the sounds of your sloppy pussy trying to suck him in deeper, he’s losing his mind. Tongue leaving you only for him to spit onto your cunt, thumb rubbing it into your clit, third finger added to the first two. Determined to have you ready for his cock.

“Need you to cum,” he sounds wrecked even to himself, “Before I do in my own pants – ffffuck –” Can’t help the way he curses at how you tighten around him at his words, “Must’ve been telling the truth about liking my voice, huh?” He teases, laughing breathlessly at how you react to him again.

Pressing out a simple, “S–so mean,” in response.

“You fucking like it,” eyes watching how your back arches off the mattress, “Love it even,” he reminds.

A series of moans leave you unabashedly at how he crooks his fingers just right, consistently hitting the one spot, thighs twitching at it. Stomach pulling tight and toes curling, head moving from side to side, so fucking close now.

“That’s it, sweetie,” he encourages, “Doing so good, just let go for me.”

You’re cumming suddenly, the abruptness of it shocking, like your body skipped the rest of the build up at Gojo’s words. If it didn’t feel good how he was fucking you through it, how his thumb kept rubbing at your clit, you’d feel beyond embarrassed at how you came just because he asked you to.

It’s not lost on him how quick you were to finish after he spoke, his ego big before and now fucking massive. Absolutely thrilled by how you continue to prove your responsiveness to him, if he were ever worried about you not being attracted to him, he can’t possibly remember why. Not when you’re squirming under him, tears threatening to slip from your waterline.

“Such a good direction follower,” he mocks, repeating his earlier sentiments.

His fingers keep stroking at you until your body goes limp, only jerking every now and again with your come down. Pulling them from you and parting them, looking at the way your cum connects his fingers together with white strings.

“Look at that,” his voice dripping with glee, “I was right… got such a creamy pussy,” he hums, shoving his fingers into his mouth.

He wipes his spit covered fingers on your thighs before standing, tugging off his pants and boxers before crawling up the mattress, leaning over you. Fingers skimming at your sides, pulling your shirt along with it, “Can I take this off, pretty?”

Eyes bleary when they meet his, giving a small nod, “Mhm.”

“You okay to keep going?” He checks, leaning in closer to you.

His concern makes you unreasonably happy, feeling genuinely cared for, “Yeah.”

“You sure–”

Cutting him off, “–Yes.”

Shock present on his face before smiling endearingly at you, completely smitten with you and has been for a long time now. It all feels a little surreal to him, being able to hold you, be intimate with you. Leaning in more, pressing soft kisses all over your face.

Showering you in affection as his hands continue to pull your shirt up. Only parting to pull it from you fully, thrown to some corner of your room, joining the rest of your clothes. Shuffling back so he can look at all of you, hands delicately tracing over you, like he’s memorising how you feel under his palms.

“You’re so soft,” he mumbles, hands smoothing over you. He drops onto you, face pressing between your tits, breathing in your scent.

Confused as your voice calls for him gently, “‘Toru?”

“Fuck,” he nips at your skin first and then moves to get back on his knees, “Alright, spread those pretty legs for me, sweetheart.”

Feeling placid from the intensity of your orgasm, you immediately listen to him and open your legs, moving them to the outside of his. Gojo feels like his heart grows in size at how quick you are to listen to him, so docile you don’t even talk back to him.

Your head cocks to the side at him, confused by his stare, “What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head at you, “You’re just really cute.”

He grabs your face, sandwiching your cheeks between his fingers, his lips leaving behind a big and sloppy kiss on yours before focusing back on your cunt. Grasping his cock and groaning at the pressure, squeezing himself to alleviate some of the need crawling desperately up his spine.

You can’t help but stare, he wasn’t full of it, he really is that big. Long and thick and looking so painfully hard, dripping precum so messily down the length of himself, dribbling down onto the bed sheets.

“It’s rude to stare,” he hisses, hand now stroking himself, clearly not even a little bit put off by your shameless staring. If anything, completely aroused by it.

Looking up into his eyes as you apologise, “‘M sorry.”

“Hah,” he huffs in amusement, “So polite all of a sudden, orgasm that good, pretty?”

“Yeah,” you nod, staring at him straight on, aiming to work him up more.

It works, “Fuck– alright,” his hips stutter into his hand and he stops fisting his cock, “‘Bout to give you an even better one,” guiding his dick to your core.

Swiping the head of himself through your folds, letting it collect the slick leaking from you. Teasing you like this for a bit, moving himself up and down before dipping into your hole, only to pull away again.

You whine at him over it, “Please.”

Smile large as he coos, “Don’t worry, pretty. I’ll take care of you.”

Keeping his word, he slowly presses the tip of his dick into you, hissing at the stretch, worried he didn’t give you enough prep. You bite your lip as you begin to take him in, fisting the sheets below, looking up at Gojo. His brows are upturned, and his jaw clenched, focusing so hard on being slow and careful. He pauses when you clench and flinch around him.

“I can take it,” gaze determined as you try to assure him, “You can keep going.”

“Oh, sweetie,” his hand grips at your inner thigh, squishing it under his hold, “I appreciate that,” he smiles, “I do… but you’re gonna want to pace yourself.”

You pout up at him, sulking, wanting to be full and not appreciating his probably – definitely – sound advice.

“Hah, don’t pout,” his thumb moves to your clit, “You’ll take it, know you will,” rubbing circles into it, “Cause I’m gonna make sure of it, but you gotta pace yourself.”

Under his touch, you relax again, and he pushes his hips forward, starting the slow process of opening you up on his cock. His control astounding himself right now, wanting nothing more than to fuck into you completely, feeling your pussy swallow him whole.

He’s not quite half-way yet and already pressing up against the most delicious spots inside you, with that and his consistent pressure on your clit, you’re suddenly so fucking close to cumming like this.

Reaching out to him, your hand lightly slaps at him, trying to warn, “I’m gonna – hah –”

Gojo realises when you clench down on him what you’re trying to say, the small noises you make getting louder, he almost blows his load the second he realises. Ripping himself from you suddenly, you cry out at the loss, cumming around nothing, gasping into your hand.

“Why? Why?” you’re almost incoherent as you ask him.

“I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, trying to make up for the loss of his cock, “Would’ve cum if I hadn’t pulled out, wanna at least fuck you before I do.”

You glare at him, trying to convey how slighted you feel but he only seems to find it endearing, smiling at you over it. “I’ll make it up to you, don’t worry.”

Wasting no time, he fucks back into you, to where he was before he pulled out. Giving shallow thrusts as he keeps pressing forwards, breath stuttering at the small way he’s getting the friction he’s desperate for.

“Such a greedy cunt,” he murmurs, dick slipping deeper, “So quick to cum for me, sucking me in.”

“Gojo–” you whine at him, his words back to embarrassing you.

His voice cracks at how you refer to him, “–No, no, nono, what happened to ‘Toru?” Fucking deeper, so close to being balls deep.

“‘Toru, you’re–” cutting yourself off with a moan, he thrust the rest of the way in when you called to him, “–so deep.”

“Don’t I fucking know it,” he chuckles breathlessly, moving to press his body up against yours, craving the contact.

He’s pressed up against you completely, warm and strong, your legs loop around his waist and he slips in deeper. He groans at it, holding himself back, wanting you to adjust to all of him first. He nuzzles into your neck, leaving kisses and love bites against the sensitive skin there, relishing in the way your pussy jumps around him over such a small act.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you liked me or something,” he jokes, referencing how sensitive you are to him.

Without thinking, you admit, “I have – mmph – I’ve liked you mm–multiple times ah– at different points in – hah – our lives.”

His head snaps back as he twitches inside you, “Seriously?” When you nod, he grinds down into you, “Fuck– had me so stressed, liked you all this time and you’re telling me I could’ve had this pretty, little pussy so much sooner?”

You’re feeling a bit dazed, two orgasms deep and stretched so obscenely around him, cunt making wet noises just from the small way he’s grinding into you.

“When,” his words are hurried, when you look at him like he’s just said something in a different language, he asks again, “When have you liked me?”

“I don’t remember that, too many – hnn – different times,” you shake your head, you don’t even know if you could recount all the times you had feelings for him resurface even if you weren’t split open on his big dick.

He moans, starting to move his hips in shallow thrusts, “Enough that you – mmph – can’t remember specifics,” he groans, “Feels like a sick joke, been pining after you our – hah – whole lives.”

His mouth is on yours, kissing you deeply, sucking your tongue into his mouth, licking at you. The kiss so dizzying, you’re barely able to catch up to him before he’s talking again, “The most recent time– can you – hah – remember the most recent time you liked me?”

He’s desperate to know, wanting to know how small or big of a window he had missed. Failing to realise it doesn’t really matter all that much right now.

“Not – hah – not that long ago,” you’re almost panting now, wanting for him to move with more urgency but he’s still only thrusting into you shallowly.

“When, sweetie, tell me when, please,” his forehead pressed to yours, eyes imploring.

Struggling slightly as you press out, “B– before I started – hah – going on all those dates,” you’re trying really hard to think, “Beginning of the – hng – year?”

Smiling at you, big, happy, “Not that long ago, just gonna make you like me again.”

He’s a little annoyed that you went on so many dates right after having liked him, not completely lost on him that the two are probably connected and feeling frustrated that he hadn’t just told you about his feelings ages ago.

“Gonna charm the fuck outta you, take you to nice places, shower you in compliments, tell you how cute you are,” he’s rambling now, about your theoretical future dates, “Remind you every day how much I like you, how perfect you are, gonna make you like me again.”

“I’d like it if you moved, ‘Toru, please,” you beg, tears in the corners of your eyes from being teased.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he quips, kissing your cheek before complying.

Finally starting a pace that has you going crazy but in a different way, fast and deep, weighted thrusts that make you struggle to maintain focus. Pulling out almost completely before fucking back into you, hammering his hips into yours, lewd squelching filling the room at it.

Your whimpered moans have Gojo’s skin pricking, so turned on he feels insane, like you might kill him, “Got such a great pussy, fucking soaking wet, taking me so well, could die like this and not complain, fuck–”

Clawing at him now, at his forearms, his biceps, shoulders, back, anywhere you can reach, desperately scrabbling for purchase. “Gojo–”

“–No, I don’t know who that is,” he ignores your cry of his name.

Trying again, “‘Toru, want– I want–”

You’re not even entirely sure what you want or are asking for, but Gojo seems to know immediately. His hips moving faster, pelvis slapping into your clit every time he meets yours, cock hitting against your cervix in a way that hurts so fucking good.

Eyes rolling back in your skull with the pleasure, fat tears running down your face at it. Sex has never felt like this, is it meant to feel like this? Have you been doing it wrong? Or maybe he’s just insanely good at it, or maybe you just like him more than you were aware of.

“Feels– feels good, I–”

“Again? Fucking perfect, so perfect for me,” he sounds so excited, “Want it, want you to cum on me, cum all over my cock, fucking coat me in it.” It’s almost like he’s begging you for it.

Luckily for him, you really do like his voice, love how he talks to you and at his borderline begging, you’re cumming all over him. Cunt clenching down on him, sobbing out pitiful moans of his name as you cum. It’s coating him, just like how he asked for, creamy white ring at the base of his cock.

“Fuuck, that’s it, such a good girl,” your cunt jumps around his cock, and he laughs, “Oh? You liked that, should’ve called you a good girl sooner.”

Too dazed to fight him on his teasing, corners of your vision blurry and ears ringing, twitching pathetically under him. He doesn’t stop his thrusts, fucking into you harsher, more shallow, getting close to finishing himself.

Orgasm on the tip of his tongue, the thing that sends him over the edge is how you look up at him. Eyes fucked out and cheeks tear stained, whining out a small, “‘Toru, want it, please.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” his words are choked out, almost whining himself, balls heavy with how badly he wants to cum.

Thrusts faltering as he fucks into you the last few times, suddenly slamming his pelvis to yours, releasing all his cum inside you, painting your walls a pretty shade of white. Hips grinding into you as he finishes.

Fucked out whimpers of your name leaving him as he presses his head into the side of your neck. Biting down onto you, shocking you slightly, the pain unexpected, he lathes over it with his tongue.

He slumps down onto you, his weight too much, your hands push at him, “Too heavy.”

He hums out at you noncommittally but gets up, carefully slipping himself from you, not shy in how he stares at your pussy. At the way his cum gushes from it, the urge to fuck it all back inside you strong. He withholds though, seeing you’re clearly beyond fucked out. Next time, he promises himself.

Gone from you but not for too long, only leaving long enough to clean himself up and bring stuff back to clean you up. Wiping softly at your legs, cleaning you of his spend, “You look cute dripping with my cum,” he singsongs.

“Lewd,” you accuse, too tired to think of something more to say.

“Yeah…” he gets into bed by you, “But I’m certain you like that.”

You snuggle into his side, letting him cuddle you, “Not sleeping with you again until at least the third date.”

“I bet…” he looks down at you, lips hovering over yours, “…You’ll sleep with me after each of them.”

You go to scoff at him and deny it, but he kisses you, deep and imploring. Effectively shutting you up and as you let him kiss you how he likes, you realise, he might be right.

𝐀/𝐍: this got away from me, like it so often does, it was only meant to be a couple k of only smut but i am not normal so it turned into this! i hope you enjoyed <3 thank you for reading!

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[coco-loco-nut]

Father’s Day

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: max is dating an international star

a/n: i literally had this idea last night and had to write a short blurb, i promise i am writing other stuff tho 🫶

masterlist

————————

y/username happy father’s day, daddy. i love you and your big…

maxverstappen1 anything to share with me?

y/username not pregnant, just letting everyone know how turned on you get me

maxverstappen1 love you too, schat

user12 anyone else not getting it, like she is so hot and he is 😬

y/username you know that one barbie scene with the rock? that’s my maxie. also if you think he’s ugly, that’s fine, more of him for me 😍

user98 Y/N BARBIE FAN CONFIRMED

y/username priority 1: old barbie movies priority 2: max

user3 ON THE MAIN?

user33 PR monster got her, I really wanna know what she was about to say

recordlabel we don’t… we actually want bleach for our eyes

redbullracing we will share our bleach if you send us demos of her next album 👀

charlesleclerc Go on, finish the sentence, I dare you.

y/username his big heart, ego, ass, trophy case, therapy bill from childhood trauma, i could keep going on but i don’t want to make you feel emasculated

user62 okay, but like how did he bag her?

y/username he has incredible rizz, and look at him🤤

“Happy Father’s Day, Maxie,” you grin as Max lays on you lap, looking up at you with his beautiful blue eyes.

“You aren’t pregnant, Schat,” he laughs, your fingertips gently scratching his scalp.

“We could change that, get some practice in for after the wedding?” you watch his eyes widen as he quickly sits up.

“Practice makes perfect, why don’t we practice now?” Max suggests, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom.

Your wedding is small, only some close friends and family in attendance. The ceremony takes place in your backyard, no reception beyond a dinner afterwards.

Despite both your respective fame levels, you didn’t want anyone knowing of the marriage. Fans still thought you were dating, so when you got a positive pregnancy test, you were extra careful.

Max was grateful that you had a private recording studio in the house, for when you needed to drop the album. You didn’t mean to choose the surprise drop date to be at the end of your pregnancy, nor Father’s Day, but life worked in funny ways.

“Happy Father’s Day, Maxie,” you softly say, handing the little bundle off to Max.

“This is the best present, he’s beautiful,” Max hold back tears as he holds his son close to his chest.

“I’m not sure if I will be able to top this next year,” you laugh a little, your tiredness making an apparent after a long labor.

“You should take a nap, I’ll be okay with him,” Max runs a hand though your sweaty hair. To him, you’ve never looked more perfect.

“I have one thing to do first,” you yawn, pulling out your phone. Max slides into the hospital bed beside you, you immediately nestle into him, his warmth enveloping you.

instagram

y/username SURPRISE! midnight rain is out now! I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it for the past four years. There is so much in my life that happened, so enjoy my journey through heartbreak, love, and growth. I want to quickly thank Max and my team for making this possible 💙

user1 AHHH this is so good, but didn’t she and Max break up? Why is she thanking him?

user3 dude, i think they are married, did you listen to everything else

user4 yeah, she had some songs about marriage, but she hasn’t been at any races since last year

user10 did y’all see the statement saying there won’t be a tour for the album?? crying in the club

user11 Okay, but Robin?? secret child??

maxverstappen1 endlessly proud of you, schatje

user5 we get it bro, she wrote Dress and The Alchemy about you

maxverstappen1 our little robin decided to hatch 💙

danielricciardo So happy for you and Y/n, mate. Big day for the Verstappen family, can’t wait to hold the little guy!

y/username he will love his Uncle Danny

y/username he’s perfect, just like his daddy

redbullracing what a gift for father’s day! sending our gift to you 💙

user42 guys, y/n’s song credits changed…

user21 OMG MAX AND Y/N ARE MARRIED AND THEY HAVE A KID???

[haikyu-mp4]

Overlooked – Nishinoya x reader wc 799 – f!reader, brother!Atsumu, brother!Osamu

Family functions at the Miya household were already causing quite a ruckus, and adding one Nishinoya to the mix was bound to make things rowdier.

You were lounging in the living room, catching up with some family before dinner and making sure that everyone had been properly introduced to Nishinoya. Introducing him as your boyfriend made you grin with pride, but you could only ignore your brother’s gaze for so long.

Not Osamu, he was in the kitchen helping your parents prepare dinner like the angel he is (he’s stealing the food).

“That sounds like so much fun, you guys,” Atsumu cooed after you finished telling your aunt about you and Nishinoya’s most recent journey to New Zealand. “I wish I could live without goals or ambitions, it sounds so freeing. Just travellin’ until ya run out of money.”

Even as you pinned the blonde with an angry look, he completely ignored you in favour of leaning towards your boyfriend.

“It’s too bad ya decided to stop playing volleyball. Ya used to have some potential.”

“Tsumu,” you warned.

Nishinoya squeezed your hand which he had intertwined with his, lifting the other to point cheekily at Atsumu. “Bet you were relieved I wouldn’t be in the league to receive your new hybrid serves.”

“Relieved?” Atsumu huffed in annoyance at your boyfriend’s positive turn. “Would have loved to see that terrified look on yer face again.”

Instead of giving Atsumu the kind of discussion he wanted, and before you could even retaliate on his behalf, Nishinoya turned his approach to the rest of the family members in the room with a bright look in his eyes. “Atsumu and I played against each other in high school and it was one of the first times a serve had me genuinely worried. Luckily, my team had my back when I needed them.”

“Not exactly how I would’ve told that story, but…” You drove your elbow hard into your brother’s side.

Needless to say, Nishinoya had your whole family charmed despite Atsumu’s continuous attempts at undermining his efforts.

Still, you felt the need to address this. He’s your baby brother, after all.

“Hey,” you greeted Atsumu later that evening, in the privacy of the small children’s bench by the old volleyball net in the backyard. “What’s botherin’ ya, buddy?”

He looked down at where he picked some dry skin from his arm, shrugging his shoulders. “Nothin’.”

You smiled. This was exactly what you expected. With an encouraging hum, you scooted closer and leaned your head on his shoulder. “Come ooon, tell your big sis.”

Atsumu sighed, taking a couple more seconds but eventually opening up. “It‘s just… no one here cares that I’m literally a professional volleyball player,” he said first, taking a quick break to confirm that you wouldn’t laugh at him.

“What makes ya think that?”

“It’s always Osamu and his successful restaurants, y/n and her great travels, and now…”

You hummed, glancing over at where you could see Osamu and Nishinoya talking animatedly inside, sharing a plate of leftovers from dinner. “You feel overlooked?”

With his little sniff, you knew you had struck the right chord. “Mhm.” You picked your head up, slinging an arm over his shoulder and shaking him a bit.

“I can’t really speak for the rest of the family, but you know me and your brother are your biggest fans, right?“

He didn’t answer, but you knew he was listening from his affirming nods.

“Sure, we already knew you would play professionally after high school. And yes, we already knew you would get an offer with the team you wanted because you’re just that good.”

You felt satisfied with the ego boost you had given him and ruffled his hair roughly.

“But you don’t need to punch down at my supercool boyfriend!”

Atsumu cursed at you in complaint, pushing you away way too lightly for it to make you move. You giggled loudly, a big fan of how like himself Atsumu still was.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “Think we could still get along?”

You snorted, pointing a thumb over your shoulder. “Oh, Yu? He thinks you’re the coolest, he got us all new merch for your next game.”

Atsumu’s eyes welled with tears, something nostalgic washing over him and urging him to crush you in a hug. “I’ll dedicate my best serve to him!”

You groaned in complaint but didn’t fight the squish. “Good to see ya back on track, ya big baby.”

“What’s he cryin’ for now?” Osamu yelled from the door, so you and Atsumu simultaneously flipped him off. “Fine, just know ma’ pulled out yer baby album for Noya!”

“Shit,” you cursed, getting up and gesturing for Atsumu to follow. “Come on, stop whining.”

“Yer so mean to me.”

“It’s good for ya.”

masterlist

requested by dearest @cottonlemonade for my event, anything for you <3

[shizuturnspages]

Hi I have a request could you make a yandere gojo with a shy reader who doesn't care that he is a yandere because the reader was in toxic relationships and doesn't see yandere behavior as bad Thank you for reading me ^^

Oh. My. God. THAT IS SUCH AN IMPRESSIVE IDEA. I'm so down for this.

Gojo’s Ego Feeds Off Your Acceptance

❥ When Gojo realizes you don’t see his obsessive, possessive tendencies as a red flag, he feels invincible. Most people would run screaming if they caught a glimpse of the real Satoru, but you? You’re fine with it. That just confirms what he’s always believed—you’re meant for him.

❥ He sees your tolerance as proof of your love. In his mind, you’re basically giving him permission to be as controlling and overbearing as he wants. “You don’t mind, do you? Of course not. You’re perfect, and perfect people don’t need anyone else but me.”

Your Shyness Brings Out His Protective Side

❥ Gojo already sees himself as your protector, but your shy nature makes him feel even more responsible for your well-being. He’s constantly hovering, ready to step in if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way.

❥ He loves that you rely on him—whether it’s for emotional support or dealing with situations that make you uncomfortable. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve got this. You don’t have to lift a finger.”

He Gets a Little… Territorial

❥ Gojo doesn’t like the idea of anyone else getting close to you, especially since you’ve been in toxic relationships before. He’s convinced that only he can keep you safe, so he goes out of his way to isolate you from potential threats (aka anyone who isn’t him).

❥ He’s not subtle about it, either. If someone from your past tries to reach out, they’ll regret it. “Oops. Looks like they had a little accident. Guess you’ll have to stick with me, huh?”

He Twists Your Past to His Advantage

❥ Gojo uses your history with toxic relationships to justify his behaviour. In his mind, he’s not being overbearing—he’s saving you from ever being hurt again.

❥ He’ll casually remind you of how much better he is than anyone else you’ve been with. “They didn’t deserve you. None of them did. But me? I’m different. I’ll take care of you, no matter what.”

A little scenario for having such a good idea <3

You’d barely settled into your seat at the small café when you felt it—the unmistakable prickle of someone watching you. Or rather, someone burning a hole into your soul with their gaze. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Gojo Satoru, with his signature sunglasses and that infuriatingly cocky smirk, was already making his way toward you.

“Hey, sweetheart!” His voice was as loud and unapologetic as ever, turning heads across the room. He dropped into the seat across from you without waiting for an invitation, leaning forward with an intensity that made your cheeks heat up.

“Satoru,” you mumbled, barely managing to meet his eyes. You were shy by nature, but something about Gojo made it even harder to hold your ground. He was overwhelming in every sense of the word.

“Miss me?” he teased, propping his chin on his hand.

You bit your lip, not sure how to respond. Of course, you’d missed him—it was impossible not to miss someone as magnetic as Gojo. But you also knew that admitting it would only feed his ego.

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

His grin widened. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The waitress approached with a nervous smile, clearly intimidated by Gojo’s presence. He ordered for both of you without consulting you, rattling off your favorite drink and a dessert you’d been craving lately. How he knew about the dessert was a mystery, but with Gojo, you’d learned not to question things.

As the waitress scurried off, Gojo turned his attention back to you. “So, how’s my favorite person doing today?”

You hesitated, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. “I’m okay.”

“Just okay?” He frowned, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. His touch was warm, almost too warm, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “Come on, you can tell me if something’s bothering you.”

You hesitated, but the truth slipped out before you could stop it. “I… I ran into someone I used to know.”

Gojo’s grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly. “Someone from your past, huh?” His voice was calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it that made your stomach churn.

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze. “It wasn’t a big deal. They just wanted to talk.”

“And did you?”

“No,” you said quickly. “I didn’t want to.”

His expression softened, but there was still a flicker of something dark in his eyes. “Good. You don’t need people like that in your life. You’ve got me now.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the genuine warmth in his voice. Gojo could be a lot to handle, but moments like this reminded you why you hadn’t pushed him away. He made you feel… safe.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of playful banter and stolen touches. Gojo was relentless in his affection, showering you with compliments and teasing remarks that left you blushing and stammering. By the time he walked you home, you were exhausted in the best way possible.

“Thanks for today,” you said softly as you unlocked your door.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he replied, leaning casually against the doorframe. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

You nodded, your heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his voice. “I know.”

“Good.” He reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your skin. “Because I meant what I said earlier. You don’t need anyone else. Just me.”

There was something about the way he said it that sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t a threat, exactly, but it was close. Still, you found yourself nodding, unable to argue.

“Just you,” you murmured.

Gojo smiled, satisfied. “That’s my girl.”

As he turned to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just made a deal with the devil. But if Gojo was the devil, then maybe—just maybe—you didn’t mind being damned.

[dreamcsc]

your love is written … by the way you cry for me ❧ k.mingyu

morning came earlier than you expected as you pulled your aching body off the bed. it was past seven pm, which meant you had overslept the day away.

it’s a classic at this point. you’d come stumbling way past midnight from a studio session with jihoon because you wanted to ace this final exam for your senior year of college. each promise you uttered out to mingyu that you’ll come home early than the previous days were too many to count.

mingyu stirs under the blanket. “baby? you awake?” you hear him grumble out, his low morning voice making your heart tump.

however, the guilt is still buried deep in your stomach. you’ll probably let it eat you alive if mingyu hadn’t reach over to pull you back into the covers, his neck dangerously close to yours, his heart even closer.

“yeah,” you reply. “how’d you sleep, gyu?” you ask. mingyu hums out and nuzzles closer. “had a hard time falling asleep.”

now the guilt isn’t just filling your stomach, it’s climbing up your chest. you knew you shouldn’t ask why. the both of you clearly knew why, but you still do.

“why? did you drink too much caffeine again?” you humored, but the laugh barely reach your eyes. mingyu shakes his head, “nah, it’s just my classes and stuff.” he attempts but you knew it totally wasn’t because of that.

mingyu was always an excelling student since forever. he had topped top three in his whole class, earning class president all the way up to his current year: senior year. and because of that fact, you couldn’t help but feel the guilt continue its way up your heart now. the heart that is physically close to his, yet something different engulfs it.

“mingyu, i know i said i’ll be back home soon but—” you try to start but only received another head shake. “i get it. uni’s hard, i know. i know you got studios and lessons to get to. i get it all,”

a frown paints your face, heart saddening at his words. “mingyu…” mingyu only cracks a small smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes like it used to. “baby, it’s okay. i’m okay. as long as you’re here now.”

you could only nod, “thank you so much, mingyu. i—uhm,” you hesitation causes mingyu to fully face you now, giving his full attention. “what’s on your mind, baby? talk to me, i wanna know.”

your hand reach behind your nape, slightly clawing at your skin at the words that is about to make its way out of your lips. “jihoon and i had an argument.”

mingyu makes an ‘o’ face, trying to process the new information. just when he was about to speak, you cut him off. “but! that’s okay, haha. it made me realized that i’m too self-absorbed. i’m not aware of others’ feelings. i only focus on myself.”

“what are you trying to say?” mingyu questions with a confused expression. “i realized i’m not being a good partner for you.” was all you said. mingyu only hums in acknowledgment, not letting another sound out.

“i get what you mean,” mingyu says. undoubtedly his confirmation stings you a little bit, but you knew you had to accept this. you had brought this upon yourself and now isn’t the time to chicken out.

“you sure are all talk these days.” mingyu confirms again. and this one made you pierce your lips together, not daring to speak. “and you haven’t been acting on the things you say.” mingyu confirms once again.

now you’re shutting your eyes tightly together, not wanting to see his face anymore. not because of how harsh his words are, but because all of what he’s saying was true. but the pride, hurt, and ego slowly fades away when you feel mingyu’s touch on your chin.

“look at me,” mingyu softly speaks, thumbing your chin that could make you levitate at the softness, care, and love lingering on it. so you opened your eyes.

“come back to me, love. your heart is so pure, i can see that. no—i can feel it.”

you gave him a slight shove, “my heart is not pure, mingyu. all i think about is me. i neglected you because i wanted to be satisfied with myself, my grades, and whether if i’m going to graduate.” you rebutted.

but mingyu gives you a peck on the lips to shut you up. “what you did was wrong, i agree. however, you’re taking accountability right now. you’re talking to me, opening up to me, you trust me. and you’re still thinking of me.” he says ever-so-softly.

you couldn’t help but let a tear out that you never noticed. with lip quivering, you nod your head. “you’re right.”

“now, let’s get all these sad tears aside and cuddle some more, what do you say?” mingyu chuckles while wiping your cheeks before placing a peck on each side. you nod, “most definitely! my turn to give you all the kisses you deserve because you’re truly the best, kim mingyu.”

mingyu cocks his eyebrow at you, “not you saying that while using my full name. you’re making it sound like it’s a bad thing to be the best.” he jokes, earning him a light smack on his shoulder.

“i could cry for you every single second because i don’t deserve you, honestly. you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” you say with a smile that finally reaches your eyes.

mingyu reaches for your cheeks again, his thumb once grace under your eyes, wiping another set of tears you didn’t realize had escaped. “baby, please don’t cry. school’s already made your eyes full of tears. i don’t intend to do the same.”

you giggle at his words, heart full of love receiving from the man you love the most. “that’s different kind of tears.” you start. “this one are tears that was so loved by someone who cares for me. so thank you for making me cry. i love you so so much. i wish there was a better way to say than i love you.”

mingyu engulfs you into a hug before speaking. “the way you cry for me is already enough for me to understand your love.”

[amongemeraldclouds]

Down Bad

Theo runs to the Astronomy Tower to confess his feelings for you before it’s too late.

Theodore Nott x f!Reader

Warning: fluff, no use of y/n, kissing. Inspired by the Taylor Swift song with the same title. The first paragraph may sound grim, but I swear this is a fluff piece!

✿ Masterlist | 762 words

Theodore Nott had really screwed up this time. His lungs burned and his heart pounded as he raced towards the Astronomy Tower where he was about to lose the love of his life. If he was too late, you would never know how he felt. Let alone have the future he wanted with you. No, he can’t think that way.

He allowed himself a moment catch his breath when he reached the top of the Astronomy Tower. When he saw you looking out beyond the ledge, his worst fears were confirmed. He ran towards you and grabbed your waist, holding tight as he walked backwards. You yelped in surprise, struggling against your unexpected assailant.

The struggle sends you both toppling down the floor, away from the ledge. You squirmed beneath - oh, Theo. Your breath caught in your throat when you realized he’s on top of you. Salazar, everything about him was so beautiful. You kicked yourself internally, willing your brain to catch up with your heart.

“What in Salazar’s name, Theo! What are you doing?” You seethed, angry and confused. You had been avoiding him for a week since he broke your heart. Picture this: you finally mustered up the courage to confess your feelings for your childhood best friend only to be met by silence - not even rejection, just silence. Like your feelings were not even worth his words. And now he tackles you?

“No, I should be saying that to you. What are you thinking jumping off from the Astronomy Tower? You can’t just leave me before I tell you that I love you too.” His intense gaze burned into you.

You blinked at his words, confused. “Pray tell, dear genius, what does one do at the Astronomy Tower?”

It was his turn to blink back in confusion. He looked off to your side and noticed your telescope and scattered instruments. He was too stunned to speak.

“I was doing our Astronomy homework, you dolt, which you would know about if you weren’t busy skiving off with Mattheo.”

“But Pansy said you’ve been depressed lately and was alone in the Astronomy Tower,” he thought back at the conversation. Sure, you had been down bad for him and because of him this week. You couldn’t even get through quidditch practice without crying and cursing his name.

And yet - “So you just assumed I’m going to throw my life away for you?” You scoffed. “I’ll get over you someday, but I don’t know how you’ll ever get over yourself,” you teased. It was adorable how his cheeks blushed in embarrassment though you hated how quickly your anger faded.

He buried his head into the crook of your neck to hide in shame just like all those times you’ve cuddled together. Your hands wrapped around his shoulders out of habit. “I didn’t know what I was thinking,” he admitted. 

“So there is hope yet for you and your ego,” you mused before your mind snagged on the rest of his words. “Wait, did you tell me you love me?”

He raised his head and looked back at you, “I did. I’m sorry I froze when you confessed your feelings. You deserved better. I’m not good with these things, but for you I will try. I love you. Ti amo così tanto.”

“Well, you already know how I feel,” you deadpanned, trying to channel your teenage petulance despite the warmth blooming in your chest. 

“I don’t get to hear it again?” He asked with a hopeful expression.

“No,” you replied, tilting your head away from him though you couldn’t hide the grin on your face.

“Too bad, I was hoping to kiss you after you said it.”

You looked back at him, returning the challenge, “kiss me and maybe I’ll say it.” 

So he did. Electric bliss shot through you the instant your lips connected. His lips were soft and warm, the taste of cigarettes and mint mingled together as he ran his tongue along your bottom lip. You gasped at the sensation and he took the opportunity to explore your mouth.

There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It was a hundred ‘finally’s melting together into this one euphoric moment. You ran your hands through his hair, needing him closer. Needing more.

The kiss was over way too soon as he propped himself on his elbows to look at you. He saw everything he needed to know in your expressive eyes. Still, he asked, “will you tell me now?”

“No,” you bit back a smile.

“Guess I’ll just have to kiss you more.”

✿ Masterlist

A/N: A literal Down Bad moment with Theo tackling you bahahaha.

[lauraneedstochill]

Confess the longing you are dreaming of

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was she like?” Aemond carefully wonders.

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

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

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

Aemond is not excited in the slightest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

her laughter enters first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It scares Aemond as much as it spikes his anger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he wakes up painfully aroused.

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

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

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

>>> It doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but she pulls back.

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

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

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

Desire, it seems, has come to stay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cupids-chamber]

@. People I would cheat on my boyfriend with.. . ♡ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Genshin version ## Low quality and low effort slides because finals sucks!

. ROOK HUNT ;

Odd smile or grin, I mean Rook always has this ridiculous oui oui bitch smirk grin on his motherfucking face, but today? It was different. It was more huter-y if that’s even a word. 

The moment you turn away, Rook’s glaring at your pc as you open the slides, as if it’s his mortal enemy.

Bro looks like a fucking hitman with the looks he’s putting out. His facial expression radiates wtf energy.

Aww so sweet, so cute mon cherie..—Now change the fucking slides.

"What's on the next slide my sweet?"

Run bitch run.

Why are you hiding your screen

what is there to hide

you have nothing to hide

what do you even need to hide.

Why hide.

Communication is key :)

. VIL SCHOENHEIT ;

Lowkey glaring at you while you explain the slides, like 'excuse you fuckass am I not good enough for you?'

Will start getting passive aggressive, calm? What is calm? Is there anything truly ‘calm’ in this world?... He’s patiently waiting.. For the slides to load… Standing, posing like your mom outside your door with a sandal core. 

Slowly becoming a nagging housewife as he insults your slow as fuck computer. 

Begins fucking scrolling immediately, legit scoots you over.

Truthfully you're more surprised he didn’t question the picture you choose for the cover but his pacing is lowkey scaring you? You did this on a dare.. And you put a 50 slide gap.. And Vil was going through each slide fast… Hell you even put a compliment on each slide. 

Stroking your little beauty queens ego always worked… except now.. He’s been remarkably quiet.. And that is surprisingly more unnerving and unsettling than anything else VIl could possibly do.. 

Well you’ve done it now.. He’s mumbling.. With gritted teeth, he’s not even glaring.. And frankly you don’t want to see his facial expression. 

And then he starts laughing.. But not laughing in like “LMFAOO LOL SO HILARIOUS”  but more of a lowkey “I’m going to kill you”

“Potato… care to explain a few things?” 

“I- ugh.. um.. have an appointment”

“Not anymore”

. LEONA KINGSCHOLAR ;

Kitty’s got claws, bro finna commit a crime.

Just looks at you and smiles. ‘I control my emotions, my emotions don’t control me’ core 

Was therapy working? Probably not his lazy ass avoids them like the common flu.

You saw his expression soften for a moment and you lean in and give him a hug. Effectively distracting him.. and then you scroll like God’s given you 20 fucking seconds to live and breath.

“WHAT THE FUCK HERBIVORE??” and then the screen fades to Malleus.. 

And then it automatically scrolls to Rook...

"..."

Oh you fucked up.

© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[dekariosclan]

Hello my friend!

So we all know how amazing and wonderful Gale is, how kind, good, caring and funny he is. He is, in so many ways, a perfect man.

He is, however, only human. I have the tendency to idealise him, and forget this.

My question to you is - what do you think his flaws are? Both generally and as a husband/life partner.

💜

Ohhh I love this question so much ❤️ I am a hopeless romantic, and I adore Gale’s charming, sweet, loving adorkableness! He is truly amazing—but I can confirm NOBODY (and no relationship) is ever 100% perfect.

The thing about a long-term committed relationship is that, while your partner’s charms make the relationship wonderful, their flaws are what make it REAL. And that’s just as important.

So let’s talk about our charming Gale’s less-than-charming aspects, shall we?

[warning: this went from a short & concise answer to a rambling dissertation, please prepare yourself accordingly! Also I know this ask/answer was supposed to make Gale a little less perfect and help lessen our obsession, but uhhhh, I seem to have veered hard in the opposite direction 😂]

———

First off: The Pomposity™️ (I’m not 100% certain that’s even a real word but you know what I mean right) So we all know that by the end of the game, (human) Gale has come to accept himself as he is, and decided to henceforth be known as ‘Gale Dekarios, a most brilliant wizard of intentionally limited reknown.’ He’s come a lonnng way in cutting down his ego, but let’s be honest: some of it will never truly go away. And that’s fair, because he IS brilliant, and he IS talented, and he IS extremely passionate about magic.

…but it’s tough to remember all that and give him a pass when that usually-oh-so-adorable-finger-in-the-air is now aimed at YOU, as he declares that ‘after all, he IS an expert on [*insert topic here*] because he WAS awarded [*insert scholarly award here*] from the one and only [*insert impressive Blackstaff Academy professor here.*]’

And all you wanted was for your opinion to be taken into consideration regarding the wine selection at dinner.

———

Second: The Disarray / Messiness. Gale has a brilliant mind, one that he applies full throttle to any and all situations: concentration on magic spells, lance board strategy, calculations, poring over ancient tomes, and even figuring out how to cook something edible out of rotting fish heads and some moldy cheese (no veggies, though!)

The problem is, while his mind is brilliant and he will keep it laser-focused on his chosen subject at that current moment, from a day-to-day perspective he is straight-up scatter brained with all the things he has his hands in. We can see this in his vision of his tower: BOOKS. BOOKS EVERYWHERE. Some stacked in piles, some shoved onto shelves, some left open on the page he was reading when he got distracted, etc.

We also get confirmation of this from Tara in the epilogue:

Tara: The way he leaves his potions in absolute disarray—I know for certain he wasn’t raised in a barn, but you’d never know it.

It’s one thing to have books & potions & scrolls scattered throughout his library and sitting room—you have no complaints against that, you HAVE moved in with/married a wizard, after all—but to find them in the kitchen, wine cellar, even occasionally stuffed into your own wardrobe? It’s a bit much.

TLDR: Our rizzard is a hot mess.

———

Which leads us into perhaps his biggest flaw: The Fussiness.

So about all those books everywhere, on everything, all at once? You didn’t try and ARRANGE them or organize them for him, did you?…You did?! Oh, gods! No, no, he had an ORDER to them, you see, and he knew that the exact spell he needed could be found in the third book down in the stack next to the piano, page 453, why did you ever decide to move it?

Well, you explain as patiently as you can, it was in the way, and frankly you could tell from the dust on it that he hadn’t touched it in several yea—

BY ELMINSTER’S ELBOW, did you ALPHABETIZE his illusion scrolls??! Oh, for the love of—!

You get the picture.

There would undoubtedly be moments when you found yourself fully exasperated by this man and his exacting, fussy nature.

———

All that being said: true fights would be rare.

The occasional huffy remark or quickly-forgotten gripe would occur now and then as in any relationship, but a real, anger-filled argument? With heightened emotions and hurt feelings? Rare indeed.

The only thing bigger than Gale’s brain is his heart. And while his mind is dedicated to a great many things as mentioned above (magic studies, lance board, etc) his heart is 100% dedicated TO YOU, and you alone. So on those rare occasions after a fight has occurred, it does not take long for him to come down from the heat of the moment and realize, oh, hells, he’s been an ass, hasn’t he?

He knows you love him. His anxiety about not being enough for you has long since disappeared, and he’s calmed his worries that you would ever leave him, but still…there’s always a lingering concern that maybe you’ll grow distant from him after an argument.

If you are in the wrong and he is certain of it, he will be stiffly polite until you offer an apology, and then he will be taking you in his arms, kissing you passionately and telling you ‘all is forgiven my love, let’s never speak of this again’ (and trying hard to hide his relief that you apologized first, because he was not sure how long he would be able to hold out and stay mad at you.)

If HE is in the wrong, though? And you are truly mad at him? And he knows he really stuck his foot in it? Oh, boy.

You’ll be treated to an apology so eloquent it would make poets weep, and it will come packaged with hand-holding, pouting, pleading, and Gale getting down on his (bad) knees.

And if you’re still mad at him after that?

Well, then you’ll have to complete a gauntlet harder than anything Shar could ever throw at you. You’ll have to try and stay angry, explain your anger, AND explain to Gale why he won’t be easily forgiven, all while looking directly at this:

And this:

AND THIS:

…

…needless to say you will be failing, and hard.

Not that you mind, because the make-up sex will be absolutely phenomenal. Gale doesn’t just want to repair your loving bond after you’ve had an argument, he wants to improve it. Which requires much study and experimentation, of course.

And for awhile afterwards, all will be bliss again.

…until you find a pile of scrolls shoved under your side of the bed, and some open books scattered across your dresser, and you decide it time to do some organizing. ———

So yes, my friend. Gale definitely does have some flaws, and at some point they WOULD drive you crazy in any sort of relationship you have with him. Gale is wonderful, Gale is loving, but Gale isn’t perfect!!

…but when he takes you in his arms after you’ve made up, and his mouth is hungrily devouring yours, and he’s murmuring words of adoration against your skin as he trails his kisses down your neck, chest, hips—

Nevermind! I take it all back. He’s perfect. 😂

[thehypnone]

HYP. 🫵 I NEED SWISSALPS WITH SERVICE GHOUL MOUNTAIN /SILLY I BEG OF THEE I AM ON MY KNEES 🙏🙏 ANYTHING WITH SWISSALPS COMFORT

you knew what this was gonna be!!! also tagging @everybodyshusband because...you know why heh

No matter who meets Swiss, whether a new ghoul, sibling of sin, a fan, or some random person, the first impression is always that he is an image of pure confidence. Always grinning, walking with his back straight and flirting with people—huge ego would be a second thing that comes to mind.

It’s not wrong, but only Swiss’ pack knows he’s not always like that.

No, when it comes to some things the multi ghoul is an anxious mess, if anything.

One of such things are malls.

Evil incarnate, if you ask him.

So many people up close, so many smells and noises and flashing lights; it’s all way too much. One could laugh considering how it’s nothing compared to performing on stage—and it is nothing in comparison—but to Swiss it’s different. He can’t help the anxiety malls cause him.

Thankfully he has Mountain.

Everybody knows that the earth ghoul just has something calming about him. Whether it’s his element or simply his personality, Swiss needs him if he even wants to have a chance of surviving a mall trip. He’ll cling to his hand with his own, dripping sweat, and he needs the absolute marathon of comfort after it’s all done.

He doesn’t remember why it was so necessary for him to go this time. There’s so many different people that could go fetch whatever had to be fetched, there’s deliveries, there’s online shopping and–

“You’ve got this, darling,” Mountain mutters, squeezing Swiss’ clammy hand. He doesn’t reply, just looks up at his mate’s glamored face and squeezes back three times.

I love you.

It’s all a blur of smells, noises, colors, and lights for the next two hours. Two hours of torture, but at least Mountain is there with him, holding his hand and not letting go for a second. Swiss is repeating it to himself over and over again, Mountain is there with him.

He doesn’t even realize when the earth ghoul has finished whatever they had to do there, suddenly he just feels…air. He stumbles back and his eyes flash with gold as he loses a hold on his glamor a little bit.

They’re outside.

“Yeah, we’re done,” Mountain confirms, “nearly there, the van is just around the corner.”

Swiss all but runs and throws himself into the van once it’s in front of him, crawling over the seat and cowering in the corner as he waits for his mate to get in and shut the door to finally cut them from that horrible place. Mountain does so as quickly as he can and opens his arms for the multi ghoul to fall into. Swiss obliges, nestling his face under Mountain’s chin and pressing himself as close as possible.

“Oh, I’m so proud of you, my heart,” the earth ghoul mumbles into his hair, holding him close and squeezing him with all his might to ground him. “You did so good, you were so brave, darling, I love you so much.”

Mountain keeps whispering into his ear for the entire ride; he tells him how much he loves him, how well he did, how proud of him he is. He’s repeating the same things over and over again, but Swiss couldn’t be more grateful. Just hearing Mountain’s voice and feeling the rumble of his chest against him makes the multi ghoul relax.

The drive is long enough for Swiss to get sleepy—all the overstimulation and anxiety wears a ghoul down. By the time they reach the Abbey he’s mostly asleep and stirs only when Mountain is pulling him out of the van and into his arms. Swiss has half a mind to drop his glamor upon seeing the Abbey from the corner of his mind before his head rolls back against his mate’s shoulder.

The next thing he knows he’s undressed and in their soft nest, surrounded by their combined scents; it makes him instinctively kick up a purr. The earth ghoul snuggles himself against his back and grabs his hand to intertwine their fingers.

“Sleep now, my heart, I’m right here,” Mountain whispers, tucking the multi ghoul in against his chest, “and we’re going to cuddle all day tomorrow, okay?”

“Thank you,” Swiss finally speaks, for the first time in hours. It’s so quiet it’s barely audible. Mountain smiles softly against his hair and squeezes his hand three times.

I love you.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

The Current event makes me smile since it kind of confirms a headcanon I had that the Great Seven have animated movies based on them. Makes me wonder about the plot of the movies

Disney should get on the Twisted Wonderland AU Animated Remakes. What is Ursula was a good witch, what if Scar was right to take the throne and did he take it from Mufasa? (Or whoever is the stand in for him)

The Evil/Beautiful Queen...actually GOOD?

Yeah, it makes sense! Since the Great Seven are historical figures and the stuff of legends, surely there would be popular media made in their image. It’s like how the Disney fairy tales borrow from stories in the public domain or how there are historical retellings and reinventions (Hamilton, anyone?).

I believe TWST has mentioned films based on their own stories and history before too, but purely in the animated sense rather than live action. In book 3, Ace and one of the Atlantica Museum guards talk about an animated movie based on the tale of the mermaid princess and her prince; this movie is said to have come out ~30 years ago, which corresponds with Disney’s animated The Little Mermaid. Ace compliments the movie’s soundtrack too way to stroke your own ego, Disney/j.

Later on in Tapis Rouge, the characters discuss other films based on the Great Seven, including one Queen of Hearts movie. A Sea Witch movie is also mentioned; in it, she “goes gigantic” and also sings as she brews potions. The Octatrio quite enjoy this particular film.

(Side note: Another anon once suggested to me that people probably also write fanfics of Neige and Vil since they’re celebrities… Think like “My mom sold me to One Direction?!” Wattpad kinds of fics, but replace One Direction with Vil or something. You can read those post here!)

It’s… interesting this event specifically has Vil promoting a live action adaption of an in-universe animated film about the Beautiful Queen—an animated film which was the first full-color animated movie AND it originally released close to 90 years ago. They also reference the funding issues that Disney suffered while producing Snow White + inviting bank employees in to preview the movie to acquire more investments, stating that the studio that made the animated Beautiful Queen experienced the same. The in-game live action is even slated to come out “NEXT YEAR”. They’re not being subtle here with TWST’s references to their own version of the irl Disney Snow White (the live action is coming out in 2025, the OG is also almost 90 years old, etc.). I wonder if the EN server will actually get Tapis Rouge around the time of the irl release of Disney’s live action Snow White as part of a promotional campaign? 😂

UPDATE: There are even more not-so-subtle references to Disney animations in part 4 of the event, including discussion of cel animation, rotoscoping, adding blush to the characters, and how Disney brought in real animals/observed the “real thing” to help with animating similar scenes or subjects. They also cheekily say that most animation nowadays is CG 💀

I know some books under Disney publishing try to show alternate tellings or show the villains in a more sympathetic light, but I don’t know that they would ever commit to fully animating a film like that. It definitely would not happen in the style of traditional animation, Disney no longer seems well-equipped to handle that task 😔 I feel like it would also be pretty niche or might not get overwhelming positive reception with recent audience calls for “true bad guys” instead of twist or sympathetic villains (though I’m not sure what percentage of people watching Disney actually have this opinion).

I do wonder how those “AU” films would work though…? It wouldn’t be as simple as suddenly turning the G7 into “good guys”. The scenario and other characters would also have to drastically change. TWST doesn’t necessarily make the original “good guys” “bad” in a world where the villains are historical figures; we still hear plenty of positive or neutral stories about the achievements of the mermaid princess and other Disney heroes.

There are also times when the same story diverges into multiple separate stories that seemingly have no connection to one another. For example, there is a story where a princess marries a street rat (clearly referencing Aladdin) and they live happily ever after in spite of the difference in their social statuses. However, there simultaneously exists a story in which the Sorcerer of the Sands saves a princess from being deceived by a fake prince (also referencing Aladdin). The same goes for the mermaid princess (Ariel)—there is both a story referring to a “mermaid princess” who married a human prince and also a different story (clearly still pulled from the same film) about a mermaid who made a deal with the Sea Witch to find true love but broke her contract in the end.

Very cool idea, just not sure where it would lead or it it’s feasible or worth it monetarily for Disney.

[meryldian]

omg love your writing its so GOOD

do you think you could do some more headcanons about growing up with devilsh

np if you cant have a good day or night ❤

★ Growing up with Devilish & Being Tokio Hotel’s 5th member ★ pt.2

AN: I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE !!

I decided to merge the requests because they overlap with one another and simply work. I hope this satisfies you !! I’m writing this as a part 2 to my first « Growing up with Devilish/Tokio Hotel » post since it just works!

Warning! Underage drinking and Smoking,sexual themes touched non explicitly, that’s about it. Friendly reminder it’s Tokio Hotel we’re talking about

≛ This is set in 2003 til 2005 right before the release of ddm as it deserves it’s own post.

~ Enjoy your read ~ (not proof read I’m sorry I had to get smth out of the drafts)

Bill was so excited to land that Starsearch audition, he came running to your house once he got the confirmation.

It’s 8pm on a school day and there’s a frantic Bill knocking at your door.

Or window, if it happens to be on the first floor.

I love the idea of your room being on the first floor, that way the boys can sneak in for silly night-ins discussing about the future of your band or watching some disney movies on your VHS player.

Or sometimes you’d sneak in beer, weed, all that good stuff that 12/13 year olds should not be doing but you did it anyway.

Your bedroom was a hideout and safe place, especially for Bill who found so much comfort in you.

The days following to Bill’s audition were spent practising his singing and putting up a killer outfit that would shock everyone.

Not many people had faith in him, but I’m sure you were certain he’d make it.

So when a letter got home after a few weeks saying that he was amongst the best 16 in the country, you sticked out your tongue and middle finger up to the other 3 boys. “I told you so”

When it came the time to interview the band for Bill’s section of the show, you guys knew you’d have to be your best.

Bill helped out picking your outfits for sure. You needed to look cool for the camera. Maybe this would be a breakthrough moment?

You even got to do Georg’s hair, much to his annoyance.

It felt glorious, there was a television team in Loitsche and it was just for you guys. You were the kings of the town for a few hours.

Charlotte, the twins’s mom allows you to come with her to the show. You were so excited to see Bill onstage! (The fandom knew Mami Kaulitz as Simone but she legally deleted that name and only kept Charlotte) (from now on I’ll only refer to her as Mami Kaulitz though)

Once Bill came on stage you knew he was meant to be there, and you dreamed for your band to be able to shine like this by his side.

You were clapping and singing along so happily, the crowd loved him.

The same can’t be said about one particular judge.

When Bill lost he came running into your arms. Poor boy was destroyed. You only had a couple minutes to gather his things and leave so while his grandma comforted him you helped out Mami Kaulitz at getting everything together.

Standing awkwardly by a crying Bill, his grandma and a bunch of strangers while waiting for his mom to finish talking to the host is definitely not your best memory.

Needless to say the ride back home was silent.

Everyone was so proud of Bill nonetheless.

In the following weeks you guys mostly practiced your melodies with the band and tried out new riffs. Bill was quite depressed and refused to get out of his house.

Not even a new outfit, new song or a cool Barbie doll could convince him to get out.

You would physically have to get in and drag him out of bed by his ankles.

Once you yanked him too hard and he fell right on his butt, knocking his head while at it. Tom was wheezing in the back while you tried to help Bill up, avoiding to burst at his misery.

Bill has always been arrogant, so the loss on Starsearch was a big bruise to his ego. You would have to help him rebuild his self-esteem.

Dressing him up prettily and doing his makeup.

Bill would imitate your makeup techniques, he finds you fascinating.

This is how his iconic black eyeshadow look was born.

Overtime it all got better and you guys went back to the routine.

In a way, you’re the glue that sticks everyone together in the band. For sure you’d be a pillar the boys rely on.

Whenever things don’t seem to go the right way you tend to climb on the rooftop and just talk the night away with Georg. You two can have the longest and brightest (sometimes not so) conversations man has known.

Back to the “storyline” Starsearch was not useless in the slightest. Bill’s voice, the band’s rogue look in the interview and the angelic beauty of one of it’s members caught a talent scout’s attention.

Sometime between 2002 and 3 you guys had recorded your Devilish demo, that along with Bill’s appearance in the show had gained you some newfound popularity in town.

Things were still hard but, at least they knew those five losers had talent.

It was a hard and exhausting process til you guys finally signed with Universal. But! Before you could record an album, you all needed some proper training. So during the summer holidays you were accommodated into an apartment with everything you may need.

Now imagine an apartment with 5 young teens living by themselves.

Gustav was in charge of the cooking because if anyone else touched the kitchen you would burn the place down.

Tom has managed to burn water. Do not trust him.

We all know Gustav is a total chef now, but back then let’s be honest.. he could make instant ramen noodles and sandwiches. So most of the time you guys settled on ordering junk.

You guys had sleeping arrangements but it never stopped you from all ending in one room playing video games til the late hours of the night or drinking til you passed out.

Nowadays you guys sometimes cringe at everything you were doing at such a young age.

Parties were strictly forbidden in the apartment so you would all sneak to the nearest park to raise hell. There were no parents to run after you and barely any surveillance around. You guys were free.

You once got so wasted that on the way back home Georg crashed somebody’s window. You still wonder how you never got caught.

There were nights that the place would get so cold that you all ended up as a pile when it came time to sleep.

You didn’t stay like that all night though. You’d wake up coddled against Tom’s leg on the floor as he took up the entire couch. Georg was sprawled on the bed, Gustav rested on an armchair somewhere and Bill made himself a blanket cocoon.

Bill and you still have a very special friendship, so some nights you would both get into the blanket cocoon in the living room and watch some vhs tapes of Nena, Queen and Bowie’s concerts.

Oh and Titanic, for sure. Bill loves the film.

He confessed to you that he was crushing on both Rose and Jack (Bill actually said this)

If you happen to also be in the lgbtq community, you’re in for a queer ride when watching films with Bill.

ESPECIALLY, Labyrinth.

You washed Georg’s hair in the sink once. You never talk about it.

The five of you are oddly comfortable around one another so there was no shame in that.

Nor in walking around barely dressed, making the grossest jokes and acts and being complete degenerates.

The fact Bill mentioned in his book that they’d collectively jack off still haunts me to this day.

You just let them be.

Or join if you’re drunk enough, you be you bestie.

You’re not excluded from the after hour porn binge watching though, that’s like watching the news for you bunch of hormonal brats.

Anything totally inappropriate for your age aside, the five of you have such a beautiful bond. It’s amazing to watch you go.

Of course the twins are a step ahead, but it doesn’t change the fact that as a band and as friends you’re so connected to one another.

You can have more than one soulmate, and the five of you are linked together for sure.

Ok i’m being cheesy.

I’m sorry but Tom was the type to ask you to make out to “practice”

He likes to snatch your bras (if you wear them) and mock you while holding it against his chest.

“Georg next time you take a big shit open the windows and spray there’s a lady living in here” “Look I’m y/n and i’m the best musician in this band” “Pull up your pants you looser”

In return, you have hit him with a bra. How is you weaponize it? I have no idea but you certainly did.

Gustav and you were always the ones to do groceries because if you let the other ones do it, they would come back with anything BUT groceries.

A new turtle for georg, king sized box of condoms, cigarettes, a kiss the cook apron, supposedly haunted doll they found in the trash and a pack of hot wheels toys.

Gustav might be the dad yet it doesn’t take his chaos away from him. He chased you guys around the apartment with a water gun screaming like a madman.

He drums on bowls while cooking it’s cute.

You genuinely had the time of your lives.

But you can’t forget that you were located there for a reason.

Writing music.

Turning this into a series! I’m honestly way too into this idea not to cover the band’s evolution in it’s entirety. The inclusion of this fifth member is genuinely very fun to write and brainstorm about! I’ll mostly write them as the rhythm guitarist as it’s logically the easiest position to sneak into the band. As well as I must say that I am definitely more comfortable writing afab readers but no worries I can and certainly will do male reader <3

See you ~

- Meryl <3

[creamhoodie]

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊ Trio ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊

synopsis: Nagi finds out you cheated on him with Reo and the three of you end up having a threesome. Tags: aged up, continuation to my other fic comfort

Nagi knew something had happened between you and Reo the morning he had picked you up. Reo’s call had only confirmed it. 

“Do you ever think about how good the both of us could make her feel?” Reo had asked. 

His best friend had pitched the idea of the two of them fucking his girl, though something told him Reo had already been in you. 

Maybe it had been the way you tasted different or the way Reo had held you a little longer than usual when saying goodbye with your breasts squished cozily into his chest. 

The thought of Reo touching you and making you feel good filled him with a jealousy he didn’t know he could possess. 

“Was that Reo on the phone?” you asked, opening the bathroom door, steam in the air and you were dressed in the bathrobe he had given you for Christmas. 

“Yeah,” he said, noting the worried tone you tried to conceal.

He knew you thought he didn’t notice these finer details because of the way he was captivated  with his video games but the truth is he had every part of you memorized from the way your eyes lit up to how your tears taste when you cried. 

“What’d he want?” you asked, raking your comb through your wet hair. 

Nagi took his time answering, going to hug you from behind and smelling your clean scent, nuzzling your neck. That’s one of the things he loved most about being with you: how your fragrance permeated the hot steamed air after you showered. To Nagi that would always be a comforting smell, the smell of home. 

“Reo suggested that the two of us could make you feel good,” he said, kissing your neck. 

“Oh,” you said, widening your eyes. 

But he knew you better and knew that was your ‘oh how surprising face.’ 

Little slut, had Reo trailed kisses down this very neck last night? 

“Is that something you’d be interested in?” He asked.

He undid your bathrobe and pulled the drape back a little so he could see your bare breasts in the mirror. 

“I’m not sure, Seishiro. Would something like that even be okay with you?” you asked, but he was not oblivious to how the question had made your breath hitch for a moment in anticipation and longing. 

Would he be okay with it? 

He wasn’t entirely sure. Part of him was still filled with jealousy at the thought of Reo touching you but there was another part of him at the corner of his ego that was aroused at the idea of Reo watching him fuck you. 

Sure he had been lazy with the sex lately, letting you ride him and not doing it as frequently but this new element of adding Reo to the mix was stoking flames he hadn’t known existed. 

“Seishiro?” you called his name to get his attention again. 

He turned you around so you were facing him, your hands instinctively placing themselves at his chest. In response, he pulled back the drape of the garment even more so your nipples were fully revealed. He placed his thumb on one and pressed down hard. 

“I think I’d be okay with it, especially if it makes you feel good,” he said as you winced a bit from his touch at both the pain and pleasure. 

“Seishiro, what's gotten into you?” you asked. 

He wasn’t entirely sure himself as he was still discovering this feeling of jealousy and arousal. 

That’s why he couldn’t turn down Reo’s offer, he had to chase down this feeling to the end to find that light at the end of the tunnel. 

— 

Nagi watched as Reo whispered something in your ear causing your face to go red. Though he didn’t know Reo had purred: “I told you, you’d feel me again, doll” into your ear, he had a pretty good idea. 

The three of you were the bed you shared with Nagi. 

From the moment Reo had come over and entered the room, Nagi could tell how you were salivating over him. 

Again that same feeling from before, both jealousy and arousal plagued him. 

You sat in the middle of the two men, each making you feel so small in comparison. 

“Why don’t you kiss her, first?” Nagi prompted Reo.

Besides, you’re practically eye fucking her already, he thought to himself. It was also for his benefit he wanted to see how the act would make him feel. 

Not one to be told twice, Reo kissed you passionately, his tongue intertwining with yours.

Nagi felt his pants tighten watching the two of you. Seeing Reo kiss you with such a familiarity and passion turned him on because it gave him a new point of view of you he wasn’t usually able to see. Yet it also made him jealous because he wanted that passion too.

He broke the two of you’s kisses by pulling you by your hair and making you face him and soon Reo’s tongue was replaced with his. Again you tasted different, a mixture of you and Reo. Now you were creating a new flavor with him added in. 

As the two of you made out, Reo began to leave kisses down your neck and the slope of your shoulder, this time he let himself go and didn’t hold back, gently biting at your skin to leave marks like he had so desperately wanted to last night. 

“You’re so lucky, Nagi. Her skin is so soft,” Reo moaned against your skin. 

His words filled Nagi with both pride and anger. Pride because you were his and belonged to him. Anger because Reo had looted and he knew he had felt your precious soft skin last night. 

“I know I am,” he said between tongue filled kisses. He was ready to take it further, explore this feeling further down the rabbit hole: why did his best friend fucking his girl make him mad and turn him on at the same time? 

He should be angry at the two of you and he was just not in the way he expected. 

“Seishiro please,” you pleaded as you felt your clit beginning to pulsate in yearning. 

“I know,” he cooed but he thought to himself: I know how much of a slut you are and how much you crave to be filled with both of us. 

If that’s what you wanted you’d get it and then some, but this time you wouldn’t feel Reo without feeling him as well. 

Two pairs of hands hurriedly undressed you. It all happened so fast with clothes being discarded. You were positioned on your knees and felt two tips lingering at your entrances: one at your ass and the other at your pussy. 

Nagi was at your ass while your back was turned to him and you faced Reo whose cock lingered before you. 

“Seishiro? What are you gonna do?” you asked apprehensively. 

He kissed your back before replying.

“I’m going to make you feel good, same as Reo. Don’t worry about anything,” he said. 

He knew this was unlike him, usually you would just ride him and he had never fucked your ass before but he intended to show you that he was more than a pillow princess and could make you feel just as good as Reo. 

“You heard him, baby. Don’t worry, we're gonna take really good care of you. Here let me help you,” Reo said to you as he kissed you to relax you. 

Again you were greeted with his soft tongue and his hands were massaging your breasts as he kissed you. You felt yourself pooling in arousal at his embrace and you were just beginning to relax when you felt a sharp pain in your ass. 

You yelped as Nagi attempted to make his way in, the two of you had never done this before and you were extremely sensitive back there. Luckily, Reo understood. 

“Shhh, don’t focus on him. Focus on me,” he whispered so only you could hear. You were next greeted by Nagi’s tongue and spit at your ass as he tried to lubricate you. “I think he needs you a little more wet, angel. Should I show him how wet you can get for me?” Reo asked. 

Not giving you a chance to answer, he stuffed two fingers inside of your pussy, fingers curling while he used his other hand to massage your clit. 

Your breathing hitched, he was just as skilled with his fingers as he had been with his tongue last night. 

All the while, Nagi continued to tongue at your ass, leaving a snail trail of moisture down your crack and at your entrance. Between him and Reo you felt yourself flooding to the point that it was almost embarrassing. The lubrication caused from Reo’s fingering dripping to the back of your pussy as well. 

“She’s ready now, Reo,” Nagi  said as a heads up. The two resumed their positions, tips lingering at entrances. 

You stared into Reo’s amethyst eyes bracing yourself as you simultaneously felt them both sink into you. 

You let out a blood curling moan as you felt Nagi sink himself all the way into your ass. The burning sensation you felt made you feel like he had taken your virginity all over again and you collapsed into Reo’s arms, feeling his cock  warm and familiar in your cunt. 

“Fuck, look at you all filled up,” Reo said astonished as his hands steadied you. 

But you didn’t have eyes for him right now, what you were curious about was the quiet menace that had just sunken his impressive length into your ass. 

You turned your head to meet Nagi’s gray eyes and winced at his expression.

He looked angry and his next words made your blood run cold.

“Did the two of you really think I wouldn’t be able to tell you had fucked last night?” He asked. 

This was it.

His trump card. 

He had intended to let the two of you know when he had you like this because then he intended to fuck you with his full force. If you wanted to be on Reo’s cock how you had been last night by all means go ahead but he’d fuck you so good every time you felt him in your pussy you’d be yearning for his cock in your ass.

“Seishiro I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-“ you tried to protest emotionally with tears now but he cut you off.

“Shut up. You wanna act like a whore you’re gonna be fucked like one,” he said. 

The three of you remained positioned like that, not speaking for a few moments. 

You stared at Reo, who gazed back at you with lust. 

He seemed calm, you wondered how he could be so collected when he had been wrong, he had told you Nagi wouldn’t get mad. 

“Go ahead and fuck her, Reo. What are you waiting for? Fuck her like you did last night,” Nagi said. 

Reo began to thrust in and out of you slowly and soon you were overwhelmed with bliss. 

It was then that Nagi decided to thrust as well, keeping in tune with Reo’s pace. 

Again his anger was turning to arousal seeing you on Reo’s cock and hearing the soft smacking sounds of skin on skin. Both of their balls smacked against your ass and pussy, making lewd noises. He used your hair as a handlebar pulling it back to steady himself as he watched his cock enter in and out of your round ass cheeks. 

Looking over your shoulder, he could also see Reo’s cock disappearing and entering your pussy, each time more soaked with your fluids than the last. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” Reo moaned. He didn’t even try to hide how much he enjoyed fucking you and feeling your warmth on his cock. 

Nagi be damned, you felt amazing the only regret he had was not fucking you sooner. The way you were making him feel now he was envisioning all the times he could have fucked you: when he gave you a ride back to Nagi’s, when the two of you had been alone in the locker room, and when the three of you had watched movies at his place, if only he had snuck his hand under your blanket into your warm folds… 

As Nagi watched this all unfold, the light at the end of the tunnel was coming closer, at last he almost understood why he was feeling the way he did.

Pounding into you still, Nagi watched with half lidded eyes as Reo’s cock entered you again, precum on the tip entering this time. 

He pulled your hair back this time to be able to speak right into your ear. 

“You little fucking slut, I bring you around my best friend and what do you? You go fuck him,” he snarled his pace increasing. 

You tried to stammer another apology but you couldn’t form coherent words too busy making animalistic moans. 

“You’re such a whore and you had the nerve to kiss me after sucking his cock,” Nagi continued. 

Tears were falling down your face both from his harsh words and from the combined pleasure the two of them were making you feel. 

You fell forward into Reo for support, wrapping your arms around his neck, tears free falling down from your skin onto his. 

To Nagi it was such an intimate sight it only aroused him more especially when you and Reo bumped noses from the thrusting and began to kiss again slowly without shame.

At last he understood.

Watching the two of you kiss with Reo’s cock sloppily going in and out of you, he understood where this anger and jealousy was coming from.  He had reached the light at the end of the tunnel.

It wasn’t that he was angry at what the two of you did, he was angry because the two of you hadn’t included him. The jealousy he felt was at the exclusion of not being included in this game where you were the trophy. After all, he and Reo were partners on and off the field. 

Understanding this, he was able to channel that anger and jealousy into making you feel good, he thrusted against you faster now not holding back. 

“Seishiro,” you moaned, breaking free of Reo’s mouth and turning back to look at him. His face was red and you looked down to his thick girth going in and out of you. “Seishiro, I’m sorry,” you finally were able to make out. 

Now he kissed you, savoring the new taste the three of you had created. There was a hint of Reo’s dark chocolate, his ocean breeze, and of course your warm scent from this morning’s shower. 

“Don’t be, this is fun,” he replied genuinely. You turned back to look at Reo who was watching the interaction with hungry eyes and a smug expression that said ‘I told you so.’ 

So it turns out he hadn’t been wrong. 

Reo had known all along, the two were voyeurist and egoists at their core, each gaining gratification from watching the other fuck you. Each gaining pleasure from wanting to outdo the other. 

Nagi’s hands went to your waist now, his fingers digging into the meat of your ass as he continued to thrust into you. 

“I think I’m gonna cum soon, angel,” he said softly into your ear. 

Reo seemed awfully close as well still offering you quick strokes but his furrowed brows and moans showed he was on edge. 

They each felt so good inside of you in their own ways. Nagi was ever so big and he could reach deeper than you had ever thought possible, and Reo was thick and his unique curvature hit your sweet spot perfectly. Both of their moans echoed in your ear. Nagi was more of a whimpering moan and Reo was a snarl. 

In sync you felt the two release in you, and the three of you fell like dominos into the other with you collapsing against Reo’s chest, and Nagi collapsing into your back. 

“Fuck, look at what you did, baby,” Reo panted as he looked down at your interconnected bodies. His cock was a mess with your fluids. Your pussy was leaking with his semen that he had shot into you. It was the first time Reo had ever finished inside of you since last night he had made you swallow it. 

You turned your head to meet Nagi’s dazed gaze, and similarly his cock dripped with leftover cum that he had shot into your ass. 

The three of you stayed there catching your breath. Nagi was the first to break the silence.

“That felt so good. I didn’t know it could be that good,” he said, still breathless. 

It was as if Reo was the missing piece the two of you had needed all along to spice up the sexual aspect of your relationship. Having discovered several things about himself during this whole ordeal he was different from the old Nagi who would have just wanted to lay up in bed after one round. 

He wanted more. 

“Reo, don’t you think we should make our little slut taste us?” He suggested. 

There was a twinkle in Reo’s eyes as he responded: “yes we should.” 

Still fucked out, you didn’t protest as they moved positions. Ironically enough, you felt like the soccer ball they often effortlessly maneuvered and passed between them. Soon you found yourself moved from the bed to the carpet on your knees as the two stood in front of you, this made you feel more like a soccer ball at their feet. 

“Suck,” Nagi commanded, pressing his leaking cock to your face. You were quick to obey him, opening your mouth and taking his big pink head in. You were soon greeted by the unique taste of bodily fluids. 

“Fuck, she looks so hot down there,” Reo whispered as he watched, the burning anticipation causing him to fist his own cock again. 

Nagi’s hands went to your head, forcing you closer and to take more of him in. Your head bobbing up and down on his cock as you continued to suck him off was making him feel so weak especially with Reo’s eyes watching.

 For Reo it was a wondrous sight seeing his best friend so completely at your mercy, Nagi’s knees practically shaking and his usually pale white skin flushing pink and red with his snowy hair matted with sweat to his forehead. 

“That’s it angel, suck me good. Give Reo a show,” Nagi said. 

Reo loved watching your mouth take all of Nagi’s big cock in, he couldn’t believe you could handle it and had been handling it this whole time you had been dating Nagi. Images of you riding Nagi filled his head and he was impressed with both what your pussy and mouth could do. 

You paused for a moment to lick Nagi’s tip and kiss it in the way you knew sent him over the edge, not breaking eye contact with him. At this, he forced your head down again and began thrusting his cock into you so it hit the back of your throat making you gag, the sound of making Reo leak.

Again Nagi came, but this time he finished in your mouth, his slickness flooding down your throat as you swallowed. 

No sooner had you wiped your mouth than Reo pushed you on your back so you were laying on the floor. 

“Reo careful with her,” Nagi warned, his protective tone sending a jolt of heat to your inner thighs. 

“You had your turn, now it’s mine,” Reo replied.

He placed his cock in between your breasts and cupped your tits with his hands, moving them up and down, using the massaging movement from the act to thrust his cock in between your tits.

“Reo…” you whispered in astonishment at the lewdness of the act but your eyes were locked with Nagi’s gray predatory ones. Your breasts were his and seeing Reo place his cock between where he had rested his head and sucked at your nipples many times before had him seething with rage. 

“I want you to use your mouth for other things while I do this. Tell him how good I felt last night,” Reo said. 

Your hands, which were gripping his back, slapped at him a little.

“Reo!” you scolded. Reo continued to thrust between your breasts as he mushed them up and down against his cock like pillows. As he did this while on top of you his golden chain dangled back and forth in tune with your breasts. 

“Tell him how you practically begged for me,” he gloated. 

“Reo stop,” you pleaded, scratching along his back now. 

That only made him chuckle. 

“Good girl, leave me marked up so next time I’m in the locker room our team mates ask about it.” 

You remained watching Nagi who had an expression you couldn’t place. These two were a mystery to you. Maybe this was part of Reo’s strategy. Maybe once again he knew something you didn’t about Nagi, he had been right before after all. 

You didn’t have long to contemplate though because within seconds he was finishing onto your mouth, his cock still in between your breasts as he leaked all over your lips. You licked your lips clean and watched the two closely. 

It was almost as if they were trying to outdo the other. 

That’s exactly what they were trying to do. 

They were, after all, competitive to a fault. Even if they were teammates and best friends they each sought to outdo the other, it would often make the other evolve and discover new talents they didn’t know they possessed. 

This was just part of the fun Nagi had been referring to earlier. 

“My turn again,” Nagi said now as Reo moved off you. 

He knew how to win. 

He had something Reo didn’t have, and that was your heart. 

Nagi placed your legs on his shoulders and his tongue tenderly lapped at your vagina for the first time.

“My baby tastes so good,” he praised against your pussy with emphasis on the ‘my.’ 

“Seishiro?” you asked softly, watching him between your parted legs. 

He had never done this before, and the act tugged at your heart, he was being much more interactive than he had ever been before. It was everything you had wanted and everything you had cried to Reo about wanting when you had sought his comfort. 

“So beautiful, tell me how much you love me,” he said, placing kisses in between your thighs while also continuing to tongue at you.

“I love you so much, Seishiro,” you moaned in bliss as his tongue lapped at your clit. 

Though he wasn’t as skilled as Reo was with his tongue, his tenderness and willingness to do something new to bring you pleasure meant much more. It also had been part of his plan all along that he would be the one who made you orgasm last.

“Who does this pussy belong to?” He asked. 

“You,” you replied. 

“Who’s? Reo Mikage’s? Say my name,” he commanded. 

“Seishiro Nagi. This pussy belongs to Seishiro Nagi,” you moaned your eyes closing but you saw him shoot Reo a smug expression. 

You didn’t care now about either of them as you felt yourself reaching your peak. You felt warmth and anticipation then all at once a sweet release. You laid there in euphoric pleasure feeling several pulses in your body at your temple, at your wrist, and at your clit.  Your eyes were still closed and you felt that you could go to sleep right then and there.

“I think we may have broken her,” Reo said, slightly concerned.

“Nah, she’s a strong girl, she'll bounce back,” Nagi replied, and you then felt him kissing your stomach. 

You heard movement then felt a soft towel between your legs, cleaning you up while another towel cleaned the edges of your mouth. 

“I’ll give you this Nagi, that girl of yours is insatiable,” Reo said, “she’s difficult to resist. I hope we’re okay.” 

You were dozing off to sleep but it still felt weird hearing the two of them talk about you like this but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the attention. Reo had been the first to see through you after all you wanted both of them to want you even if you belonged to Nagi. 

You felt Nagi’s familiar hands move your arms up and place an oversized shirt you knew to be his from the scent of it over your head. You then felt him pick you up and place you back in the bed. He then tucked you gently into the sheets.

“We’re fine, man. Honestly I wouldn’t be able to resist her in your position either,” he said, placing a kiss on your forehead before adding, “oh but Reo?” 

“Yeah?” He asked, his voice sounding closer to the door now so you figured Reo was making his leave.

“If you ever touch her while I’m not around again I’ll kill you.”

___

Tag list:

@wishiknewwhatiwasdoingwithmylife @ayanies @marilover69 @celestair

[alwaysonf1]

leak?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 740

Warning: N/A

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: Dates and times don't matter.

“Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down. Do you see what’s trending right now?”

There’s a sigh over the phone and Iman feels bad, but not enough that her anxiety is subsiding or that she can apologize in the moment.

“Mon ange, it’s not even a good picture of us. Plus, would it be so bad?”

Yes, is on the tip of her tongue, but it wasn’t the truth. Iman had just hoped there would be more time before the world knew. She’s adept at handling the media frenzy because of how it was when the world found out she existed. But this was something so fresh and new. She didn’t want to have to share it with anyone.

“No, I just…” 

There are no words that come to mind. Logic is returning to her brain and she knows she’s being dramatic. Next to K-Pop stans, Formula 1 fans are creepy good at detective work. And one is always going to be around no matter where they are.

Also, she wasn’t completely bothered. There was a part of her that took joy in speculating that they were together. That he was her’s. It just isn’t strong enough to make the biggest impact in her head.

Iman sighs.

“Let them speculate. We don’t have to confirm anything.”

Another sigh.

She knows that he’s right, but she’d deluded herself into thinking that things could be chill. For at least a month. Or a week. But she’d found herself attached to Charles’ hip no matter how in public they were. There was some hope that if anything were to leak it would be her getting her ass handed to her in volleyball by Logan. It was ego bruising because she’s the one who played it through high school, but it was better than this.

“I know.”

“Then why all of this? You knew it would come eventually.”

“Not this quickly,” she mumbles.

There is a sound on the other end that sounds like a scoff. Iman has picked up when Charles is calling her out on her bullshit.

“I mean I could post that video of you falling on your face on the beach. That would get everyone’s attention,” Logan chimes in.

Iman’s eyes narrow as she turns to look at him leaning against her door frame snacking on popcorn. Lewis stands behind him with the bowl of popcorn that he’s been eating from.

Both idiots think her reaction is funny and have been watching her as she fights not to go into a spiral. Lewis has made comments about how she wasn’t even this bad when things got intense with the media after their episode. 

The urge to cuss them out presents itself, but Iman simply raises her hand with only one finger extended. Both of them react in faux shock and offense before falling into a giggling fit.

What she’d done to have this life she wasn’t sure, but goodness did it sometimes test her. 

“Mon ange…”

“Huh?”

Charles laughs. “I asked what you wanted to do. I want what makes you happy.”

For a second, she sits with her lips pursed as she thinks about it. They could get it out of the way, but it is much too soon to be making those kinds of announcements. Even if they’re both sure about this, it feels much too fast. Though Iman has to be honest in admitting that sometimes things move at a different pace when you’ve had years of friendship. And there are a few recent thoughts she’s had that are much faster than admitting to dating Charles Leclerc.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“For now, at least. If they catch something else and it goes crazy, we’ll just admit it. Or after like a month.”

“Okay, but mon ange, I’m not going to change my mind about you.”

Breathing becomes hard and Iman is barely able to tell him bye as they hang up the phone. Her phone drops from her hand and she falls back to fully lay on her bed. Butterflies are how she’d describe what she feels.

Laughter starts. At a speed that could give whiplash she turns her head and glares at the two pains in her ass.

“Get out!”

A pillow sails through the air and hits Lewis square in the face. Logan is gone before the other one can leave her hand and Lewis isn’t far behind him.

“Lord help me,” she says, sighing.

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logansargeant 2x national champ my ass.

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[killymafterdark]

Soap hissed, sliding down the nearby wall to sit on the ground. He was not only sore, hot, and sweaty, but also, because of how his stupid brain worked, he was getting hard. What a life.

“Soap, you good?” he heard over the comm.

“Fuckin’ peachy, Lt. Jus’ bored out of my goddamn mind,” he sighed. And horny, he didn’t add.

“Anything I can help with?” Ghost asked, and Soap looked down at his tenting pants.

“Naw, not really,” he said, experimentally squeezing his bulge to see how bad he had it. The groan he involuntarily let out confirmed he had it pretty bad.

Ghost was set up in the same building, a few flats to the left. They didn’t have to cover each other, so they set up this way to cover more ground instead. But this meant being constantly on the comms, not even a breath taken without the other one knowing. It could get real awkward real fast if he wasn’t careful.

“Actually, would you mind going dark fo’ ten minutes or so? I have, ah… thing to take care of.” Real smooth, Soap. Fuckin’ inconspicuous.

He wasn’t expecting an immediate, enthusiastic answer, but the silence that followed dragged uncomfortably.

“Ghost?”

“That your boredom go-to, or are you just a slut, MacTavish?”

Soap chuckled, busted. “A wee bit of both, if I’m being honest.” With no need to be coy anymore, he risked a joke. The distance made him brave enough to push the limits to just this side of inappropriate. “So, will ye give me some alone time, or would ye like to listen?”

Ghost hummed, and Soap could tell he was smiling. He palmed his cock through his pants, feeling it twitch at the thought of Ghost choosing to listen in. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that the idea of other people getting off on watching him writhe in pleasure was doing nasty things not only to his ego but also his libido.

“Comms on all the time, Johnny. That’s them rules.”

Read the rest on AO3. For the Oxytocin is the first part of my GhostSoap PWP series A Thin Line.