#it may sound silly but it's really important to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chilling-seavey · 21 days ago

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↳ A/N In some of my casual concepting I do in my spare time, this random blurb idea came out of it and I had to flesh it out to post because it genuinely [and embarrassingly] made me laugh out loud.

↳ Summary: Your curious two-year-old son discovers something he shouldn't.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 2.3k

↳ Warnings: Unedited. Mentions of adult related items in not adult situations, possible secondhand embarrassment, honestly it's just a good ol' lighthearted silly blurb

“You never realize how much useless stuff you have until you’re packing.”

George chuckled at your sentiment as he leaned against the open doorway to your shared bedroom, arms crossed over his chest and his skin tight work-out shirt. He had just returned from his early afternoon gym session — skillfully scheduled right over your two-year-old son’s nap time — and had found you amongst another round of attempting to pack up your Monaco apartment for your impending move.

With a toddler and balancing George’s chaotic race schedule, it was hard to actually find time to dedicate to packing so you took any chance you could get. It was a slow but sure process; but also meant you were going to be living out of cardboard boxes for a few weeks. How glamorous.

“As good a time as any to bin anything useless then.” George replied, watching you putter between the dresser and the half-filled cardboard box positioned on the foot of the bed. “Only important things are coming with us.”

Your freshly awake and quite lively two-year-old was blissfully exploring your bedroom, wobbling around your legs and into every corner as he babbled away to himself. His favourite toy car was clutched in one hand (he rarely went anywhere without it) as he peered into open drawers of the dresser and explored the half closed cardboard boxes neatly lined up by the wall.

“The only important things I need are you two.” you replied to your husband with a proud smile.

George’s eyebrows raised as a smirk pricked his lips and he pushed off the doorway to saunter farther into the room, “Oh, really? Well, then, we might as well just live in one of these boxes since we need nothing else but each other.”

You smiled back at him as he approached you, his hands navigating to your hips like second nature. Fiddling with the random cluster of wires you had pulled out of your bottom dresser drawer, you kept his tender eye contact as you replied to him softly, “As much as that is so appealing, I feel we may have Children’s Aid called on us.”

Before George could offer any sort of rebuttal, your toddler let out a giddy squeal from across your room followed by an adorable, “Uh oh!”

You both looked over quickly to see what he had gotten into now (foolish of you both to even take your eyes off him for more than three seconds), only to find your two year old beside one of the packed cardboard boxes, bottle of lube in hand. Except the bottle had been opened by his tiny nimble fingers and he was squirting the clear substance all over his hands and arms. That was NOT something either of you wanted your son to get a hold of.

Your eyes widened in sheer shock, “Oh-”

George felt his heart drop into his stomach, instantly moving away from you with a stern call of your son’s name followed by a, “No, no, no.”

He bent down beside the toddler and quickly grabbed him by the wrist to keep him from spreading the lube everywhere, his other hand snatching the now half-empty bottle from him. George looked back at you, shock and embarrassment written all over his face.

Despite the unideal situation, you couldn’t help the amused smile that threatened to spread across your face and you lifted a hand up to your mouth to try and hide the upturn of your lips.

“Yucky!” your son giggled, clapping his hands together to make the wettest slapping sound.

“Jesus.” George muttered with a shake of his head, reaching over the kid to set the slippery bottle on the bedside table for the time being. He had a toddler now smeared in lube to deal with first and, God, he didn’t know where to start. Staring down at the smiley kid, he directed to you (or the universe), “Why does he have to find the most embarrassing stuff to play with?”

You went back to trying to untangle the clump of cords as you offered half teasingly, “Maybe we should look into drawers that lock for our new house.”

“Yeah, maybe you're right. We should start locking up everything before he goes destroying the whole place before we are even moved in,” George said, a hint of resignation in his voice.

The little boy, with one wrist still in George's firm grip, reached out his other hand towards his father’s face, announcing proudly, “Slimy.”

George leaned his head back, out of the toddler’s reach, with a strained, “Oh, no. No, no, no, don't you dare-”

With an amused giggle, the toddler took his hand back and, instead, went to bring his little fingers to his mouth to taste.

George saw what he was about to do and his eyes widened in horror. The last thing he needed was his son putting lube in his mouth.

“No, hey, stop that!” George exclaimed, quickly grabbing your son’s other wrist with his other hand to prevent him from touching his mouth. “You can't put that in your mouth, mate. It's all kinds of wrong. It's for adults only!”

Threading the cords through your fingers, you offered unhelpfully, “Well, it is safe for consumption, technically.”

George shot you a dirty look, only half truly exasperated, shaking his head in disbelief at your comment. Your attempt to hide your laughter wasn't going unnoticed.

“Oh, yeah, because that's reassuring,” he replied sarcastically, “Safe for consumption or not, our son does not need to be putting that in his mouth. Especially not while it's all over his hands like this!”

“Little one needs a bath, I think.” you said in a gentle voice.

George nodded in agreement, his annoyance quickly replaced by a resigned sigh. He hadn’t even had a moment to wash off from his gym session himself and now he had to deal with a lubed up toddler’s majorly required bathtime.

“Yeah, you're right. He's made quite a mess of himself, hasn't he?” George said, still holding tight to your son’s tiny wrists to prevent him from getting more lube all over the place.

“Did you want me to bathe him?” you offered, easily noting the slight frustration in his voice.

“No, that’s alright, I can handle him.” George relented and cautiously let go of the little boy’s wrists so he could pick him up under the armpits and set him on his hip. He started to walk around the cardboard boxes towards the ensuite, speaking to your son in a stern but affectionate tone, “Alright, mate, let's get you clean. You're sticky and slimy, and Daddy's not too happy about it.”

He barely stepped foot in the bathroom when the little boy smacked a slimy palm against his father’s cheek with a giggle.

George's eyes widened in shock and disgust, grabbing his wrist again with his free hand and a firm huff of your son’s name, “Ugh, seriously? That's gross!”

You spoke before you could think, a smirk playing at your lips at the entire situation, “You've had it in worse places.”

At your comment, George shot you a disapproving look over his shoulder, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. Of course, you had to bring that up at the most inopportune moment. Trying to keep his voice even as he continued into the bathroom, he replied with a flat, “Now is not the time for that kind of smartass remark, love.”

Once they were inside the bathroom, George set the two-year-old down on the ground next to the bathtub. He turned on the water, making sure it was the right temperature before testing it with his hand, not bothering to interact with how the little boy smacked his greasy hands on the front of his shorts.

“Okay, buddy, let's get you cleaned up,” George said, still trying to sound stern despite the underlying amusement he felt from the whole situation. He started to take off the boy’s clothes, one piece at a time, while shaking his head in disbelief.

The little one squirmed, protesting with a little whine, “Nooo bath, Dada.”

George let out a sigh as your son protested against the bath, his toddler stubbornness making itself known once again. The joys of the terrible and trying twos.

“Oh, come on, mate, you need a bath. You're all sticky and slimy. You'll feel much better afterward, I promise,” he said, gently but firmly, trying to keep up a patient demeanor while he removed the last of his clothes. He folded them haphazardly and left them on the closed toilet lid beside the tub.

The toddler tried to put his fingers in his mouth again.

Once more, George caught his wrist just in time, “No, no, no, we don't do that. Keep your hands out of your mouth, you little rascal.”

Without wasting another second, George lifted the toddler up and into the bathtub and immediately submerged his hands to try and get the worst of it off. Of course, he would still need a scrub since the lube somehow got everywhere. George then grabbed a washcloth and started to lather it up with some baby-safe soap.

“You know, I never imagined I'd be bathing my two-year-old son in the middle of the day because he decided to play with lubricant,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief with a faint chuckle as he scrubbed the boy down. The irony of it all wasn't lost on him.

Unknowing what he was really talking about or meaning but still liking the soft tone of George’s voice, the little boy giggled along with him. George’s fingers raked through his son’s hair, only to find remnants of slippery lube somehow streaked through the soft strands too.

“Yeah, it's funny now, isn't it? Just wait until you're a grown-up, and I tell this story at your wedding,” George teased in return to the clueless toddler, gently soaping up and rinsing the boy's hair. “We'll be talking all about the time you decided to turn yourself into a slimy, wriggly little mess by playing with mommy and daddy's private stuff.”

Soon, once the giggly little boy was sufficiently scrubbed and rinsed and clean, George drained the tub and wrapped him in a soft, fluffy towel.

“There we go, all clean and spiffy again.” he said, picking up the toddler and starting to dry him off with gentle pats.

Wrapped in the big fluffy white towel, the little boy looked so cute and tiny in his arms. He stared back at George with only his little face and a small tuft of damp hair poking out from the towel that nearly swallowed him, nothing but big blue eyes taking up most of his face.

George couldn't help but melt at the sight of his son, all wrapped up in the towel, looking at him with those big, blue eyes that were his very own. It was moments like those that made all the stress and chaos and mess of parenting worthwhile. He cuddled his boy close, running his hand gently over the little one’s back over the thick fabric of the towel to keep him warm and dried.

“You're a little troublemaker, you know that?” George muttered against your son’s head before pressing a kiss to the same spot, “But you're my little troublemaker, and I love you.”

Content and warm and cozy, the little boy flopped his head onto his father’s shoulder.

George smiled and felt a warm, protective feeling fill his chest as the toddler leaned his head against his shoulder. He snuggled him closer with a soft and gentle voice, “Yeah, you're all cuddly now, huh? All that exploring and playing and bathing wore you out?”

When he carried the little one back out into your bedroom, you looked up from your packing, smiling fondly at the sweet sight of them. George, somewhat frazzled but still as handsome as ever with your son on his hip in a towel far too big for him but one that made him look ridiculously adorable.

You greeted them softly, “There are my boys.”

George walked over to you, his hands under the little one’s bum to hold him snuggled against his chest, his cheek resting atop his son’s head.

“Yeah, here we are.” he said in a breathy sing-song voice, only ever used around your little one, “All cleaned up.”

Your son’s big blue eyes sought you out and he wriggled away from George’s chest to reach his tiny arms out from the towel towards you instead with a sweet call of, “Mama.”

“Come here, my little love.” you cooed, reaching for him in return.

George passed him over to you, the exchange making the towel slip off the little boy’s body for a moment until you gathered it back from your husband’s hands and tucked it back around the toddler. George chuckled faintly at the sight of the little one just as naked as the day he was born and still searching for the comfort of your embrace.

When your son was snuggled up in your arms instead, you asked him sweetly, “What’s the big idea going through mommy and daddy’s things, hm?”

George tutted in agreement and made sure the towel was sufficiently wrapped around his little body to keep him from catching a chill. The toddler just smiled innocently and batted his long lashes at his father and clung onto your shirt.

George shook his head, amused and charmed, “It's not fair. He's so sweet and adorable that it makes it difficult to stay cross with him.”

“He’s just a curious little explorer.” you said with a smile, peppering a few kisses to your son’s head. “Who can be cross with him for that?”

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hgfictionwriter · 27 days ago

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Self Control: Part Twelve - Doubts

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Your due date is fast approaching, but Jessie has one set of away matches left. Anxiety, insecurity and doubt creep in while she’s gone.

Warnings: G!P content. Slight angst. Phone sex. Mutual masturbation. Praise kink. Preg/breeding kink. Possessive language. General language. Minor gaslighting?? (Nothing nefarious)

A/N: Thank you all for responding to the poll. I’m pretty thrilled you were interested in reading more of the story. Hope you enjoy. Rest of the series is here.

“Sure you don’t need me to stay?”

Before the words were even out of her mouth, Jessie knew the look you’d give her. Sure enough, by the time she set her bag at the front door and turned around, you were frowning sternly at her.

“Jess. We talked about this. And we talked with the midwife. There’s no reason anything should happen while you’re away. We’ve still got a bit of time.”

She took in your words. She still felt uneasy, but you were right, the midwife told her it was unlikely that you’d go into labour in the next week. The baby hadn’t dropped and the time wasn’t right yet either. However, it didn’t stop her from worrying.

The national team had an important set of qualifiers taking place. She’d floated the option of not going a while back and you’d immediately shut it down. She offered again as the dates, and your due date, grew closer, but again you refused.

It’s not that she didn’t want to go - she really did. She had a strong sense of duty not only to her teammates, but to the fans and - it sounded silly maybe - but to the country even. She wanted to represent her country to the best of her abilities and to carry on the legacy that Sinc and that generation had built. But, with the arrival of her firstborn around the corner, she had doubts about leaving you. She’d never forgive herself if she wasn’t around for your labour and the birth of your baby.

Not surprisingly though, you were adamant that she go. You’d always been unwaveringly supportive of her career and understood her dedication to her teams and to the sport in general.

That said, she always wanted you to know that if you needed her - pregnancy or not - she would be there for you. In a heartbeat. She also knew you’d never take advantage of her willingness to prioritize you.

She’d reflected more than once over the years on this. If she’d ever had a doubt that you were the one, this shift in her would’ve been confirmation enough.

She was a caring and thoughtful girlfriend to all of her exes. But, they weren’t top of her list. When she was in high school and university, school always came first. Then, football - her career - always came first. Before she knew it though, she was willing to stay up late to talk to you, skip practice to spend time with you, miss matches - not that you ever let her; which was yet another reason she loved you. But the fact that she entertained the thought told her all she needed to know.

So, as per usual, you told her to go, even though you had to be at least a little bit nervous. Regardless, you didn’t need her apprehension weighing on you or influencing you. So she swallowed her worries and smiled at you instead.

“Okay, love. Call me right away if anything comes up. And call Karina or Kelli if you need something immediately. Don’t hesitate,” Jessie told you seriously.

“Yes, dear,” you said patiently as you cracked a smile. “Just picture me in the stands cheering for you. You know I’d be there if I could. And just imagine, depending on what we want to do, by the time your next tournament rolls around, your daughter may be in the stands with me cheering mommy on.”

Jessie smiled broadly at the thought. She stepped towards you and placed her hands on your rounded belly. She went to say something else but the kick under her palm distracted her, followed by another kick. She looked up at you in surprise.

“Oh gosh, she’s really kicking,” she said.

“Oh yeah. She’s been kicking up a storm all morning,” you said with a hint of a smirk. You mock whispered, “I think she may know you’re leaving.”

Jessie gave you an exaggeratedly sad look and dropped to her knees so she was level with your bump. Her hands were still on the significant swell of your stomach, pushing up slightly to lift your belly and give your back some relief. You audibly sighed and gave her a grateful look as she spoke.

“I’m not going away,” she said apologetically. “At least for long. I’ll be back in a little over a week,” she went on followed by a kiss to your stomach. Her brow furrowed and she spoke imploringly. “You have to stay in there, okay? Please, please, wait until I’m back. Can you do that for me? For good measure - you stay nice and cozy in there for another 3 weeks, alright?”

Jessie smiled up at you when you reached down to tenderly tuck her hair behind her ear. You rubbed your stomach and spoke to the baby though you kept your eyes on Jessie.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m going to miss her, too,” you said with a wink. Jessie made another sad face even if she was probably meant to laugh. She kissed your hand and then your stomach.

“Mommy will be back soon. I’m going to miss you both so much. You two take care of each other while I’m away.”

Jessie forced a smile as you cupped her cheek.

“We’ll be alright, Jess. Don’t worry about us. Focus on the matches.” She rose and you pulled her in for a kiss. “Give ‘em hell.”

———————

Seeing her national teammates was always a joy. She loved her club team, but the national team? She’d practically grown up with half of them. And the highs and lows of national tournaments, along with the pride of representing their country - never mind winning Olympic Gold together - it just bonded them in a totally different way.

She was hit with a barrage of questions, teasing, as well as gifts from them and staff around the impending arrival of the baby. So many gifts she’d probably have to buy another bag to bring them all home.

Normally, Jessie couldn’t stand attention, even from people she was as close to as the team, but when it came to the thought of her daughter, all it did was make her smile. She couldn’t wait to introduce her daughter to these great people. She could tell how they’d shower her with love and care and it filled her heart up.

Before dinner, she went up to the hotel room she was sharing with Janine to drop off an armload of gifts. She set them down in one of the chairs and posed in front of the growing pile and made a funny face as she took a selfie for you.

Selfies. Another thing she didn’t exactly like, but knew you did so she took them for you, especially when she was far away. When she was happy with the photo, she sent it - a follow up to the thumbs up selfie she’d sent you when she landed.

“Should’ve brought another bag”

“How are you doing, love? How’s our baby? I wish you were here. I miss you already.”

The team was just sitting down to dinner when her phone buzzed.

“Omg. You’re kidding lol. Looks like we’re going to need that space in the guest room after all lol. That’s so sweet of everyone. Please pass along my thanks (and ‘hellos’!)”

“Btw you’re so freakin cute. I love you 🥰 “

“I’m doing okay. She’s been restless, which you know, is driving me a bit bonkers. But all’s well. And I miss you too, baby. I hope you have a great dinner with everyone!”

Tomorrow was a bit of an adjustment day. A team walk in the morning, some sightseeing, training in the afternoon and an evening to themselves, so the night went fairly late as everyone caught up with one another.

She was getting ready for bed when she heard Janine snickering as she brushed her teeth. Jessie gave her a scrutinizing look and the girl merely held up her phone. Jessie scowled as she saw a post Julia had put up of Jessie sandwiched between her and Jordyn at the restaurant as they both pinched her cheeks.

“I love when she posts pictures of me,” Jessie said dryly with a halfhearted eye roll. Janine spit out her toothpaste and gave Jessie a teasing look.

“Vanessa, Jordyn, Cloe, Ashley, Shelina…the list goes on. Never mind me. And the admin account.”

Jessie shot her a withering glare. “We’ve been here less than a day.”

“Well if you had your notifications on you’d see all the posts you’re tagged in,” Janine said with a shrug. “And we can’t help it if you’re so photogenic. Plus come on, the fans love you, and you’re, you know, the captain. So of course the staff are going to highlight everything you do.”

Jessie rolled her eyes again but checked her phone, a fleeting disappointment running through her upon not seeing a new reply from you. You two had been texting, but your replies were getting further apart and slightly shorter. Curt even? Aloof? She couldn’t put her finger on it.

She shook her head and dismissed any burgeoning worries.

She sent another couple of texts.

“Just getting into bed. Wish it was next to you. No worries about talking tonight. You’re probably busy or maybe you fell asleep already (which is good! Get some sleep whenever you can!). Maybe we can talk tomorrow night?”

“I’m leaving my ringer on (too bad, Janine), so just text or call me if you’re up and can’t sleep. Happy to talk and keep you company. Anyway. Sweet dreams, babe. Love you.”

It took her a while to fall asleep, her apprehension about leaving you, along with your lack of reply tonight had her mind whirring despite efforts otherwise. However, eventually she dozed off.

The room was still dark when she woke next. She blinked several times as she palmed the nightstand looking for her phone. She checked the time - nearly 5:00am.

More importantly though. A notification from you. She must’ve really been tired if she slept through the notification. She felt the drowsiness leave her body as she unlocked her phone to see.

“Sorry. Got distracted. Hope you had a good night. I love you too.”

Jessie frowned. There was nothing explicitly wrong with what you sent. But it wasn’t like you. Though she was relieved to hear from you, it didn’t exactly settle her. But, she didn’t want to read into things and add stress for you.

“Hi baby. No need to apologize. I just woke up. Will probably try to get a bit more sleep though. I hope you’re having a good sleep. Sucks not waking up next to you. I can never get used to it.”

She managed to get some more sleep, but by the time the team had breakfast together and returned from their little sightseeing tour she still hadn’t heard from you. There was a time difference, so it’d be a bit early for you, but it still felt odd.

Jessie found herself ruminating and it wasn’t helpful or useful, so she made of point of being extra social to keep herself distracted.

She checked her phone again as the bus was pulling into the training facility. The last message in your convo was still the picture she sent you of the skyline and a “Hope your morning’s going well! I hope work’s not too busy today” message.

It wasn’t until a break when Jessie snuck back into the locker room to check her phone that she finally saw another message from you.

“Looks pretty, babe.”

“Morning’s been fine. Lots of meetings.”

Her features felt heavy as she read your messages. Normally, you were warm. Chatty. Inquisitive. These messages didn’t feel that way at all and she felt a pit forming in her stomach.

A few bubbles popped up and she felt herself perk up. She watched and waited.

“Hope practice is going well.”

A small smile crossed her face and she felt encouraged. She went to text you, but changed her mind and tried FaceTiming you. She scurried over to a quiet corner and waited for you to answer.

You didn’t.

A renewed wave of disappointment went through her, which she quickly dismissed. She scolded herself. You just said you had meetings. It was unlikely you were actually free to talk. She exhaled and tapped out a text instead.

“Hi babe! Yeah, it’s nice here. I’d like to take you sometime. Sorry to hear you’ve had so many meetings. Hopefully they’re not too stressful. I know things have been hectic as you’re trying to wrap things up before the baby comes.”

“Practice is going well! We’re trying out some new formations and it’s going well so far. It’s so interesting coming back together after club transfers - you can see how different playing styles have been adopted, the difference that comes from increase or decrease in minutes. All of that.”

She finished with a smirk, knowing that if you were standing across from her you’d called her a nerd and kiss her. Sadly though, that wasn’t the case.

When practice wrapped Jessie was met with a reply.

“Yep. It’s been a lot. And who knows what it’ll all be like when I come back after mat leave.”

“That’s interesting, babe. Glad practice went well. They’re lucky they have your brains.”

“You know you don’t have to text me, right? You should be focused on the team and the upcoming game.”

Jessie frowned. Okay. She had to confront things now.

“Babe, is everything okay? You seem off. And I know I don’t have to text you. I want to - of course.”

It wasn’t until everyone was showered and arriving back at the hotel that you replied again.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just been busy with work. And I’m tired.”

Jessie’s face fell again. While everything you said was logical, it just didn’t feel right. She didn’t know what she’d done wrong and she just wanted to fix it.

She slowly gathered up her things and got off the bus. As everyone got ready for dinner she messaged you again.

“Okay. Well, try to get some rest this evening. The team’s going for dinner soon, but some of us will come back right after. Can I call you tonight?”

Jessie was at dinner when her phone buzzed.

“You should stay out with the others. You don’t need to come back early just to talk to me.”

“I want to talk to you. I’d much rather do that than go out.”

“You haven’t seen some of them in ages. Go spend time with them, Jess.”

She frowned at her phone. You’d been slow to reply all day and she was happy to talk with you in ‘real time’ so to speak, but she wasn’t anticipating this. She felt like you were pushing her away and she didn’t understand why.

“Babe. I can do both. Can I call you tonight? I would really like to. It doesn’t have to be long.”

You didn’t reply right away, leaving Jessie distracted and restless throughout the rest of dinner. She opted to go back to the hotel with the first batch of folks just in case you changed your mind and wanted to talk.

She was playing a board game with Quinn and a few others in their room when you finally responded.

“I don’t really feel like talking.”

The pit in her stomach twisted. Another text came through as she was rereading your last.

“I’m sorry, Jess.”

“Sorry. I’ll be right back,” she mumbled as she got up off of the floor and stepped into the hall, ignoring whether or not her teammates were eyeing her or not.

“Babe. We always find time to talk when I’m away. What’s going on? Now I know for sure something’s wrong. Please tell me.”

“Jessie. I want you to spend time with your team. Have fun. Enjoy yourself. Truly. We’ll talk later. And I’ll still be here when you get back.”

Jessie wasn’t sure why, but she felt tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. She found herself breathing deeply as she tried to steady herself. She swallowed her rising emotion.

“Okay. Well, I’ll let you go, then. Tell me when you’re up to talking and we’ll talk, okay?”

“Sounds good. Good night.”

“I love you.”

The “I love you” was the warmest you’d been all day and though it satiated her to some degree, it also made her chest constrict in a way that was more or less foreign to her in her relationship with you.

Maybe in the future, she’d have the liberty to be amused at the contrast between how she felt in this moment and how she might’ve with any ex. If an ex had been distant or cold, she honestly couldn’t have really cared less. Sure, it wasn’t enjoyable, but it wasn’t going to affect her like this. Right now? She felt terrible and uneasy, and she couldn’t even really voice why.

When Jessie woke the next day, her sleep restless at best, she felt that weight of concern throughout her body before she even picked up her phone. The feeling amplified when she didn’t see another text from you.

She opened your conversation. Sure enough, the last message was her saying good night to you - no reply. Her jaw subconsciously tightened and she wrote you again.

“Good morning, my love. I hope you had a good sleep and our little one didn’t keep you up too much. We have practice this morning, but can we talk tonight?”

She wanted to confront you more, but she didn’t know if she was being unreasonable. Plus if she got angry with you it could just cause you to pull further away.

She did silly media things for the team that day, finished training and still hadn’t heard from you. She couldn’t believe how emotional it was making her. Cloe asked something about you and Jessie had to pull herself together to give a composed answer. In truth she just had this worry and hurt and didn’t know what to do. She just wanted to be at home with you and to talk to you.

It wasn’t until around dinner that you finally replied.

“Sure. I’ll text you when I’m done dinner.”

It wasn’t exactly enthusiastic, but it was something.

The evening wore on and some of the team was starting to go to bed by the time you texted.

“Hey. I got held up at work. The time difference isn’t working in our favour. You should get some sleep. Your game is tomorrow night. You need rest. We can talk tomorrow instead.”

A rush of frustration went through Jessie. She just didn’t understand. You were a pretty direct and open communicator; if anyone got quiet and withdrawn it was definitely normally her, so it was bizarre and confusing for you to be this way.

“I’d like to talk now. I’m worried about you. I’ll sleep better if we talk.”

She chewed the side of her thumb as she stared at her phone and awaited your consent.

“Okay. I’m free now.”

Jessie’s found an empty meeting room of sorts and forewent a chair to instead pace as she called you. Her heart was raced as the device rang in her ear. She didn’t recall feeling like this since you first started dating. And even then it was entirely different.

“Hello?”

Your monosyllabic greeting was impersonal and flat and her throat tightened over it.

“Hi baby,” she said softly, not wanting to meet your aloofness with her own.

You didn’t say anything and she cleared her throat, shoving a hand in her pocket.

“What’d you have for dinner?” She asked, wanting to keep things light for now.

She heard a soft sigh come through the phone and you replied, tone still disinterested. “Just some chicken, rice and veggies.”

Jessie did her best to not be discouraged by your tone. “That’s good. How’d the rice turn out?” She said, attempting to crack a joke over how you struggled to cook rice well and always deferred to her to do so.

“Fine,” you said. A beat passed. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Never mind,” Jessie mumbled slightly as she cleared her throat once more and tried to not get upset.

The call was quiet for another second.

“How was your dinner? Looked like you guys had fun.”

A frown settled on Jessie’s face. “What? I mean, yeah, it was good and it was fun to hang out. But how did you know?”

“Janine and Julia posted a story,” you replied.

“Oh.” Jessie chuckled. “Of course it was them. Perpetually online.”

“Yeah,” you replied flatly before another lull formed.

Jessie scratched the side of her head and lifted herself up onto the balls of her feet as she broached the tension.

“Um. Are you alright, babe? You seem…I don’t know,” she trailed off, now falling back to her heels and kicking idly at the carpet below her. “Off I guess. Like. Quiet.”

“I told you I’m tired, Jess,” you responded with thinly veiled terseness.

“Yeah. But I know what you’re like when you’re tired. And it’s not like this,” she countered mildly.

She heard a huff of a laugh from you. “And I’ve never been 9 months pregnant before, so. Guess we’re in new territory.”

Jessie rubbed her forehead. “Is that what’s going on? I’m sorry I left. I offered to stay, you know,” she said without malice.

You huffed again. “I would never want you to skip this, Jess. You should know me better than that.”

“Well then I’m confused. I feel like I’m in trouble. My best guess is for being here. Yet I offered to stay and you wanted me to go.”

“You’re not in trouble,” you said.

Jessie gave a short laugh. “Yeah? How come you’ve barely talked to me since I landed? It’s painful trying to get more than a two word answer out of you. It’s like talking to me is a chore or an obligation all of a sudden.”

Her brow was heavy as she frowned and waited for you formulate a reply.

“I told you already, I want you to spend time with everyone and to have fun. Go enjoy yourself,” you said, a bit more quiet and subdued this time.

She gave another empty laugh. “I have. I told you I have. But I want to talk to you, too.”

“Why?”

Her face screwed up in disbelief. “Because you’re my fiancée and the mother of my child and I love you??” She asked, her voice rising.

A beat passed and Jessie could feel her heart thumping heavily in her chest.

“Well.” Another moment passed and your voice tightened. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Jessie asked, calming down some and speaking softly.

There was another pause, longer this time, and she was able to inquire when she heard a faint sniffle through the phone.

“Y/N?” She asked. “Are you okay?”

More silence until another sniffle came through.

“Babe,” she beseeched, feeling anxiety start to build in her body. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, your voice thick with emotion this time.

“Baby,” Jessie said gently. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry that instead of just having fun and enjoying everything, you have me to worry about,” you said, voice wavering.

Jessie frowned deeper than ever. “What? Babe, I don’t understand.”

“Jess,” you implored. “I see all of the posts everyone puts up. You’re all having a great time, having these new experiences, new sights. I see how much fun you’re having - and I really want that for you. Please don’t misunderstand. I just feel horrible that you’re being tied down now,” your voice broke at the end and you sniffled more fully.

“Babe-” Jessie’s confusion and surprise was cut off as you spoke further.

“I’m sitting here, big as a house, ready to pop, and I’m seeing you have the time of your life - as you should - and I’m wondering if this is actually what you want. You’re in your prime. You’re travelling the world. Surrounded by gorgeous girls at every turn. And in a few weeks you’ll have a screaming baby at home and with a partner who ties you down.

“We got pregnant - basically on a whim, and you proposed and your whole life is going to change and I can’t help but worry you didn’t think it through and you’ll feel trapped. And I’m sorry I’m the one who did it to you.”

By now, you were sobbing into the phone. Jessie’s jaw had dropped and she was just staring blankly at the ground as she processed your claims.

“Baby,” she eventually said, her voice both purposeful and gentle. “I don’t feel that way. I need you to know that.”

Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to organize her thoughts and address your worries.

“We chose to get pregnant. Emphasis on the ‘We’ and ‘chose’. Meaning I was very much,” she held back a soft laugh, “an active participant. I very consciously chose to try for a family with you. Yes - initially it was in the heat of the moment, but I haven’t had a single doubt about having a child with you. You are the one for me - through and through. Whether we were having a kid or not, but I am beyond ecstatic that we’re having a family together,” she stressed.

“All I do is talk about you and our little one,” Jessie said. “And I’m not sad or resentful of that at all - I’m thrilled. Babe, I love you more than anything. And I love our daughter just the same and I can’t wait to meet her.”

She heard your crying grow quieter and she went on softly.

“Are you perhaps having some doubts?” She asked, forcing past a new wave of apprehension. “I could understand if you did. It’s not fair to you that I’m out here - living the life, as you say - and you have the task of carrying our baby. I know you love work and your career has to be put on hold temporarily. I’m really sorry. And I’ll do everything I can to make that as painless as possible, but it doesn’t change the fact that that sacrifice still falls on you.”

You sniffled. “No,” you replied meekly. “I’m scared, I guess. But I don’t have doubts. I just feel like a burden and like I’ve cut off your freedom.”

Jessie sighed inaudibly. “You are not cutting off my ‘freedom’. I don’t feel restricted and I am going into this understanding that I also need to make adjustments and I really am happy to. I want you and a family together. I love football. Of course. It’s been my life. But it’s not my forever. That’s you. And her.”

“You’re being too nice to me,” you said, your voice hitching.

“No such thing. I love and adore you,” she said resolutely. “Now, can you tell me what’s scaring you? It’s totally valid to be scared, I just want to know more and to help if I can.”

“I don’t know. Some career stuff - the unknown there. If I’ll be a good parent. If you’ll leave me…”

“Your workplace will be counting down the days until you’re back. They’ve even said that,” Jessie chuckled. “And if, for any reason, you decide you want something different, we’ll navigate that when we get there and we’ll do it together. And you’re going to be an incredible mom. I have zero doubts. And I can’t even fathom the thought of leaving you. Not just because we’re having a kid together - in general. In fact, I’ve spent the past couple of days reflecting upon how absolutely different I am with you than I was with any of my exes. Believe me - there is no contest. Past or future.”

You sighed wearily into the phone. “God, Jess. I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have had to deal with my insecurities. Especially during your tournament. God.”

Jessie made a face. “Actually, as your partner that’s exactly what I’m supposed to do. And come on, this is the smallest of reassurances. You are so confident all the time - it’s intimidating, actually,” she said with a smirk. “Which you know.”

You finally laughed. “I know.”

“Mhm. You had me sweating and stammering when I first met you,” Jessie repeated for good measure.

“You did great,” you said with a laugh for which Jessie was grateful.

“I’m very, very happy to reassure you any time you need,” she reiterated.

"Thank you," you said with a small whimper. "I just got in my head. I'm anxious even though I know better." You gave a watery laugh that pulled a smile out of Jessie. "You still love me?"

Jessie laughed. "More than ever. I promise."

"I know I should've just talked to you. I'm sorry," you said.

"It's okay, baby. I'm glad we got that sorted," she told you before she rolled her eyes. "You had me worried that something had gone wrong - maybe the baby was coming early or something."

"Oh. Well she did drop."

"What!" Jessie exclaimed, head jutting forward.

"I think that's also went sent me into a spiral," you said. "It happened the day after you left. Remember she was so active - like crazy active. Then she just shifted and she's sitting so low now. I called the midwife - the timing makes sense and she has no concerns."

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, you need to tell me these things," Jessie said, irritation settling in her shoulders.

"I was going to tell you when we talked...," you offered weakly, surely feeling guilty.

Jessie sighed heavily, pacing once more and trying to let go of her renewed anxiety and irritation.

"I'm sorry, Jess," you went on. "Not my best moment...moments...as a partner. Thank you for being so patient with me."

She hummed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's okay, babe. I know you're dealing with a lot. It's okay."

"I miss you," you said, more like an offer or an olive branch.

She had to laugh as she shook her head. "Yeah, I miss you too."

"If it makes you feel better - I felt miserable not talking to you. Or not being open with you."

"That doesn't make me feel better," Jessie said flatly though she chuckled.

"Mm. Well. I wish I was there with you. I always hate going to sleep without you, but especially right now," you said.

"I know the feeling," Jessie sighed as she leaned against the wall. "I really do wish you were here."

"Me too," you said. "Though I'm sure Janine could live without that," you laughed and she snickered.

"Uh, yeah, she'd pack up her bags and move immediately," she said. A devilish smirk crossed her face despite the weight of your conversation just moments before. "She hasn't fully recovered from that time she caught us on the phone - or me, I suppose."

"Oh my God," you laughed. "That was a lot of fun though."

"It really was," Jessie agreed as she recalled the memory. She cleared her throat as the visuals in her mind became a little too vivid. "Embarrassing, but fun."

"Maybe...we could have some fun like that again?"

Jessie quirked an eyebrow up. It sounded great, but she wanted to be mindful of the distress you’d been in.

"When?" She clarified.

"Mmm, up to you, I suppose. You have your game tomorrow, so you should probably get some sleep tonight," you said. Something in your tone told her you weren't entirely set on that though.

"I'm not tired," she simply said.

"Where are you now, then?" You asked.

"Nowhere convenient. But I can easily head back to the room," she said, already on the move. “You’re sure about this? No pressure or anything. Seriously. I want to make sure you’re okay first and foremost.”

"I’m very sure. I’ve been missing you so much. And you know what emotional intimacy does to me,” you chuckled, drawing the same reaction out of Jessie. “Are you sure? I really don't want to affect your game or state any more than I have."

"I think it would actually really help my game," she said flirtatiously as she got into the elevator.

"Okay, let me get ready too, then," you said. She heard you moving around and then the eventual sound of you rummaging through the nightstand drawer.

"Ugh," Jessie said, mostly facetiously. "That's my job," she grumbled.

"You've been replaced by a machine," you joked. "No, come on, you know these things collect dust when you're around. Nothing compares to having your cock inside of me."

"Jesus Christ, let me at least get to the room," she said through grit teeth as she walked towards her suite.

When she stepped inside, it was empty, as expected, but Janine could be coming back at any point. She grabbed her airpods and connected them as she stepped into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

"How fucking perfect," she whispered with a smirk as she spied the shelving above the toilet. She propped her phone up there and started video. When your face appeared on her screen she lit up. "There's my girl."

You gave a bashful smile, unlike the flirtatious or playful one you'd typically give in response; surely a lingering reaction from your earlier feelings.

"You're so beautiful. I've missed you so much," she said earnestly.

"I've missed you too, baby," you said sweetly. Jessie gave you a teasing look.

"See? Was that so hard?"

"What?" You asked with a small smile.

"Calling me 'baby'," she teased. You rolled your eyes playfully.

"What do I have to do to make it up to you?"

"Oh, baby. Sure you want to ask that?"

"Mhmm," you nodded, biting your lower lip. "I'm very sorry," you said slowly and in an entirely different way than earlier.

"Shit," Jessie said as she started to cup herself through her pants, her length starting to stiffen already. "That's my good girl." You bit your lip harder and she could see you start to fidget.

"I wish I was on my knees taking you into my mouth right now," you said.

Jessie groaned and undid her pants, dropping them to the floor, shortly followed by her boxers. She looked around quickly and spotted lotion on the counter, she stepped out of view - you whining right away - and pumped some into her palm before returning. She stroked her cock up and down, her hand moving swiftly and easily along her erection.

"What are you doing?" You asked with a flirtatious waggle of your eyebrows.

"Imagining your mouth around me," she said matter of fact.

"Well step back a bit, I wanna see," you said and Jessie obliged as she continued to stroke herself. She took off her shirt quickly, standing clad in a sports bra, her flexing bicep and abs on display.

"Oh fuck, babe," you said in want and she heard your vibrator turn on.

"You, too. If you really want to make it up to me you'll have to show me something. I know it's not easy right now, so feel free to be creative," Jessie said, tilting her chin up as she looked at you through her phone.

"Could it be the baby you planted in me," you said as you turned the phone to show your stomach as you rubbed it sensually. "Look at what you did to me, baby."

"Mm, you look gorgeous carrying my baby," Jessie said as she held herself more firmly as she stroked. She felt that primal rush inside of her and she groaned low in her chest. "You're my girl, aren't you?"

You started rubbing yourself with the vibrator and you returned the video to your face. Your cheeks were already growing flushed.

"Of course I am."

"Say it," Jessie demanded.

"I'm your girl, Jessie," you said. "Soon to be your wife. And mother of your child, of course."

"Fuck yes you are," she said through grit teeth as her pace quickened. "No one else's. Ever."

You nodded eagerly, your mouth now open as you pleasured yourself.

"No one else's. My pussy is so wet for you. You're the only one I want. God, I'm making a mess of our sheets already."

Jessie grunted as she clenched her jaw. "God, no one could ever work me up like you. Mm, I wish I buried inside of you right now. Fuck, I can feel how tight and hot you are around me. God, there's nothing and no one better."

"Oh fuck, Jess," you panted, your cheeks deep red and your head thrown back. "I need you to fuck me. Your hands on me, your cock filling me up. I need you so badly."

"You have me," Jessie breathed, her fist riding hard and fast up and down her length to the point her voice was shuddering. "I'm yours to keep. You know I'd be there taking care of you, taking care of my girl if I could."

"I know. No one can take better care of me than you."

"Remember that," she said as she started to buck into her fist. “God, you’re going to make me cum already.”

You shoulders heaved up and down, hitching as you worked your clit. “I’m close too.”

“Yeah?” Jessie asked with a crooked grin. “Picturing me thrusting into you from underneath - the sound of my hips slapping against your thighs as I stretch you out and make you mine all over again?”

“Oh God,” you panted and she could see your body rocking faster.

“Be a good girl and cum for me,” Jessie said. “Cum all over my cock and show me you’re mine. I’ll cum inside you and show you I’m yours.”

Your moans heightened as your eyes fell shut as you carried yourself over the edge. Your jaw was fully slack and you looked absolutely breathtaking as you reached your climax.

“I’m cumming for you, Jess,” you said before you began to whimper and she saw your body tense up.

“God yeah. My beautiful girl, cumming so good for me,” Jessie said as she watched you. She stepped forward and soon she grunted as ropes of cum shot into the toilet as she came. Her cock twitched in her hand as she rut into her hand. She couldn’t help but lament not being able to cum inside of you.

She stroked herself again, her motions slowing and her posture relaxing as she started to come down. She belatedly saw the wince on your face.

“Shit. The Braxton Hicks are intense right now,” you told her.

“Fuck - okay, no more. No more cumming until I’m home. I’ll be damned if you orgasm yourself into labour - especially me being here. No way,” she told you as she started to clean herself up. “Besides, you told me it was my job to fuck you into labour.”

You chuckled through a wince. “So demanding,” you joked. “Fine. As long as you’re ready to get to work as soon as you’re home.”

Jessie smirked. “You know I will be.”

—————

Jessie stood in front of the microphone post-game, shoulders still visibly rising and falling as she caught her breath and sweat still dripping down her face.

She answered the questions with quiet focus, eyes trained on the interviewer.

“…now lastly, you’re very close to expecting the arrival of your firstborn soon. Was that affecting you in any respect going into this win?”

While she wore a serious frown the minute prior, a broad smile now crossed her face and she felt her body lighten and relax.

“Oh, absolutely. My family is always on my mind and motivating me. I mean, the team and I work hard to focus and go into matches, especially ones like this, with a certain mentality no matter what and my fiancée is one of my best supporters. But,” she chuckled lightly, “if I was going to leave this close to the due date, I knew I better make it worth it and win,” she chuckled before her face settled into a soft smile. “But yeah, they’re both on my mind and I miss them like crazy. I know they both want us to rock it out here, and that’s what I intend to do, but I also can’t wait to be home.”

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #canwnt x reader #woso smut #g!p #lesbian breeding

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hopelesslygaysstuff · 1 month ago

Text

October 13 - Roleplay

pairing: dom!Wanda x sub!Reader

summary: Wanda paints you, and you find yourself enjoying your new role as a princess.

content warnings: cunnilingus

word count: 1.4k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

“Be a good muse for me,” Wanda murmurs, and you stifle a giggle.

At first, the thought of roleplay had sounded silly to you. I mean, honestly, why would you want to play pretend? But, Wanda had convinced you to be her muse. She had an art project to finish and needed a figure to paint. So, thus began your first introduction to roleplay.

You stayed still, a sheet draped over your body as you remembered your role. A princess, stuck in a castle with only the painter for company while she waited for someone to rescue her with a true love's kiss.

Sure, it was cliche and sappy. But that’s what you loved about it. It really played into the ridiculousness of the situation, and it definitely eased your worries of feeling silly.

“Is this pose alright?” You asked, sitting casually in your chair. Throwing a leg over the arm of the chair, you make sure that the sheet is covering your nude center before smirking at Wanda.

Her green eyes are wide and hungry, locked on the sheet hiding your supple curves.

“Perhaps you could move the sheet a bit, my princess.”

”How so?” You’re teasing her, your words light as mischievous as she glances up towards your face.

Wanda purses her lips slightly, setting down her paintbrush as she slowly stands. Her steps are sure, a few strands of her auburn hair escaping her bun and framing her face perfectly. A spare pencil holds her hair together, and you long to remove it.

Long fingers gently touch the fabric draping over your shoulder. Green eyes meet yours, and you shudder.

“May I?”

Mutely, you nod. Her fingers are warm and tantalizingly close, sure with their movements as they maneuver the fabric over your body. Wanda lays the fabric over one shoulder, leaving the other bare with a hint of collarbone peaking out. The sheet is soft against your chest, but thin enough to show your nipples poking through when she adjusts the fabric.

A small smile creeps onto Wanda’s lips, and you imagine that you’re a princess, desperate for attention and starved of any touch or affection. Suddenly, the urge to crash your lips against hers rages within you, and you feel yourself truly lean into the roleplay for the first time.

”Do you paint women often?”

Wanda looks up from where she was placing the fabric over your lap, her freckles standing out in the dim lighting from candles around the room. It’s easy to imagine that you’re up in a high cobblestone tower, the solitude surrounding you as you cling to your guest like a lifeline.

“I do, but none have been quite as exquisite as you, princess,” she whispers as if sharing a secret with you. It makes you lean in, your hands clutching the fabric tightly.

Looking back down, Wanda’s hands softly cover yours. She pries your fingers off the fabric, another hand gently pressing against your sternum until you’re seated against the back of the chair.

”It’s very important that you don’t move too much during this process, Your Highness,” she explains, a small smile playing on her lips at your reluctance to sit back. Her hands are warm, even through the cloth, and your skin burns from her touch.

Her hands leave, and you feel oddly… empty.

“Do you really have to sit all the way over there?” You ask, watching Wanda’s head tilt in thought as she looks between you and her easel.

“Well,” she muses, moving her easel closer. You can smell her vanilla perfume, and you grow dizzy with need and anticipation. “I suppose being closer would help with the details. Excellent idea, princess.”

Her hand pats your knee, and you breathe in deeply. God, how were you this aroused already?

”Remember, stay still for me.” Wanda begins painting, her warm green eyes glancing between you and the easel. The sound of her paintbrush on the canvas fills the room, and you find yourself longing to feel the touch of it against your skin instead. Anything to settle the sudden energy simmering in your muscles.

Your mind wanders, immersing itself into this false world you’re acting in. A sort of haze takes over your mind as you begin to dive deeper into the roleplay.

Imagining the loneliness of a princess who awaits her true love, feelings of despair and desperation well up. A warm ball of hope and excitement joins it, beating solidly in time with your heart as you gaze at Wanda.

A new guest. A beautiful one at that, once that actually touched you. It had been far too long since you’d had the company of another.

Wanda scoots her chair closer to you, angling the easel slightly towards you. Her knee touches your thigh, and you suddenly feel dizzy with need. It’s excruciating, trying to remain still while her body heat presses against you and her eyes take in your figure like you’re the most important piece she has to create.

Fuck waiting for true love, you’re pretty sure you’ve already found it. It shows in the small glances Wanda sends your way, in the fluid movements of her hand as she paints you onto her canvas, forever immortalized in careful strokes of a brush.

You lick your lips, desire taking over your body. You watch Wanda glance towards your mouth, her hand hesitating before painting the next stroke. Biting your lip, you smile slightly at the shaky breath Wanda takes.

“You seem distracted, am I boring you?”

Wanda’s eyes snap to yours, surprise coloring her features for a moment before she smirks. She sets the paintbrush down, removing her apron slowly as her knee presses steadily against your thigh.

“Of course not, princess. I just find myself longing to partake in a different art form.” She leans closer, her chair now directly next to yours. You could feel her warm breath hitting your cheek, and somehow manage to keep your composure.

“Oh?” Your voice cracks, and you clear your throat while Wanda moves closer to you. “And what would that art form be?”

Her breath hits your ear, and you feel her lips against your cheek. Your skin is tingling with energy, and you’ve never felt more alive. You can feel the roleplay haze taking over, the idea of a beautiful woman finally touching you after years of isolation nearly sending you over the edge.

“Let me show you.”

Her hand reaches for the fabric draped over your body, caressing your skin through it as you pant and squirm in your chair. Your fingers grip the armrests, your eyes pleading with Wanda for more.

She’s silent, her eyes hungrily roaming your body as she begins to slowly pull the sheet off. It feels almost reverent, the way her fingers graze your hot skin and how dark her eyes are when she looks at you.

Pulling you up from the chair, Wanda ignores the sheet as it falls around your feet, her lips connecting with yours in a frenzy of passion and need. You moan into her mouth, your hands gripping onto her shirt and bunching it up around her waist.

“Bed,” she commands, her voice soft and firm.

You obey, your mind filling with a vanilla-scented haze as you feel your senses become fuzzy. Wanda is everywhere, the smell of her perfume filling your nose as her hands run over your body. You can feel her hair as it drags along your chest and stomach while she kisses her way down your body.

Gasping, you feel Wanda’s mouth on you, licking up your arousal. You’re wetter than you’ve ever been, your hips thrusting against her lips as she builds you up. Her fingers dig into your waist, your hands in her hair as you chant her name.

With a cry, your back arches, and your orgasm rises rapidly. Raising her head for a brief moment, Wanda smiles and says, “Cum for me princess.”

Your brain registers her command at the same time that her lips wrap around your clit and suck, pleasure exploding throughout your body as you throb. The feeling is intense, your mind fracturing slightly as you unravel beneath Wanda, her name flowing from your lips in short gasps.

Somewhere, you think you can hear your name being called, and you blink as soft fingers stroke your face, grounding you. Green eyes meet yours, a smile on Wanda’s glistening lips. She kisses you, and you respond eagerly for a moment before she pulls back again, her fingers reaching down to circle your hard clit. You shudder, and her smile widens.

“Lay back, darling,” Wanda says, her eyes sparkling. “I’m going to make my princess cum again.”

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tojisun · 10 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/tojisun/738535284282638336/a-tentative-hc-of-bimboreaders-insta-acc bimboReader is a penguin lover?! I can picture her calling ‘Simmy’ in tears when she learns that penguins give pebbles as courting gifts 🥰

she is into penguins!! it’s her current fixation, on top of butterfly migration cycles (and selfcare routines – this one is sups important because it’s also meant to give simon a moment of reprieve; just the two of them enjoying a quiet relaxing skincare sesh <33)!! and ahshdhe this made me giggle sm oh this is so adorable and silly, i fear!!!

bimbo!reader mlist <3 // divider by @/plutism ^3^

simon’s focus is splintered at the first chimes of his phone, the sound ringing within the small war room and taking the attention of his squad. his captain trails off into silence, shooting a bewildered look towards simon – it’s not like simon can blame him, after all, this might be the first time he’s actually brought his phone with him during a briefing.

“what…” johnny murmurs but simon ignores him, still planting his focus to his CO as he tilts his head in silent question. john sighs before shooting simon a short nod, giving him his permission. simon turns to leave before john’s even done nodding, his quiet footsteps drowned out by the sound of john dismissing them for the day.

simon doesn’t even need to guess who’s calling him, after all, it’s only your number he’s saved in his work phone. it’s only you who can reach him when he’s out of the city. usually, though, you wouldn’t call him at this time, choosing, instead, to send series of texts about your day or sending over pictures of mittens or anything that could have caught your fancy. so receiving a call from you worries him, the ball of anxiety in his stomach ever-so expanding until he’s all choked up.

he’s barely made it to his room when simon accepts your call, your name falling from his lips with a breathless whisper.

the answering sniffle on your end does nothing to calm him down, the worry simmering underneath his veins spiking up higher. lashing out angrier.

“shh, sweetpea,” simon murmurs, hoping he could do more than just to comfort you over a call. “c’mon, lovie. talk to me, yeah? tell me how i can help.”

“oh, it’s just,” you mumble wetly. “pebbles.”

“…pebbles?”

“mhmm,” he hears you say. “simmy, penguins give out pebbles or rocks as courting gifts!” he hears you sniffle again. “history channel said so.”

“animal planet, sweets,” simon replies automatically before he pauses, blinking.

oh.

“oh, love,” simon wheezes out, the breath coming back to him, feeling his body finally uncoil from the tension that he was carrying. he sags down to his bed and presses the back of his palm on his temple as a chuckle rasps out from his lips. “but y’r doin’ alright?”

“hmm? oh, yes,” you say, sounding less heartbroken and simon wonders if it was because your attention’s been snagged, once again, by the animal planet channel – simon could hear the familiar british narrator droning on in the background.

simon lets out a fond chuckle. “‘lright then.” he licks the back of his teeth. “tell me more about their courting style?”

he hears you gasp before a rapid fire of information is chirped to his ears, the beautiful drawl of your voice chasing away the last remnants of the worry that had choked him up.

you tell him how the documentary was upfront in saying that scientific explanation for the phenomena has yet to be fully explored, so the documentary had honoured, instead, the longstanding theory of female penguins accepting rocks as courting gifts because it shows that the male penguin knows how he can take care of their eggs. “rocks keep the eggs and their nests afloat!”

simon hums and ohh’s and ahh’s at the appropriate times, posing questions that steered the conversation to the right track when you began to mumble distractedly. simon listens in earnest because he may not really care much about penguins but he cares a lot about you. he cares about learning your interests; cares about cultivating his own because whatever his girl wants, simon promises he will learn for her.

and with the way your voice lilts in joy, well, simon knows he’s done the right thing.

(simon returns from their mission with two rocks in his person – one is a polished pebble which he painstakingly looked for when he went down to the beach. the squad insisted on coming with him although the fuckers were not of any help – not like he would’ve accepted it anyway – as they chose to just sit by the local ice cream shop and watched as simon prowled towards the shore in the middle of winter; the one he found was a beautiful hazel colour, mixed greens and browns and even a touch of blues making up the surface of the rock.

the second one he brought with him was a diamond ring.)

this is so silly i love them bad :((

tagging: @honestlyhiswife @ghostsbimbo @kenz-ee @ivymarquis @yannauauau @yaebaal @liwooa @kariiiel @loonalockley @hawsx3 @durkakakayata @littlecellist

#anon #bimbo!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #suns #ask #luv plutisms dividers sm <33

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1-800-kami · 1 year ago

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R U MINE? feat gojo satoru (II)

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it.

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: this is part TWO (and the final part) of the r u mine? mini series. make sure to read part one of this fic before proceeding! :)

content: 5.4k words, afab!reader, rich college frat boy gojo, SMUT (fingering & unprotected sex.. wrap it before u tap it kids!) ANGST, (i listened to deftones while writing the breakup era LMAOO i was in my feels 😔) gojo "everything reminds me of her" satoru is really going thru it, idk how to feel about the ending tbh, cheating implications, kinda proofread ig, more emo gojo (u luv to see it)

author's note: guys. where do i even start?? first of all, thank u for all the support on the first part of this mini series!! we also hit 100 followers on this blog so tysm for supporting me n my writing <3 here's the long awaited part two (n also the finale) as i promised that i would get it out over the weekend! just a quick announcement that i may be a little bit more inactive from here on out.. mainly because classes r starting again nd im starting to get busier. i do have more fic plans though, (and a geto smut in my drafts? 👀) so i'll make time to write when i can! happy reading and thank u for all the support on this silly little series :)

tags: @soley613 @feariteriu @bear-likes-mushrooms @96jnie @keilaq1 @whydohumansss @luftyluft @fatbootymuncher (bold = i'm unable to tag u)

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

everything’s been hazy.

you don’t really remember how you got home– you either waved down a cab or walked until you somehow found your house. either way, the alcohol is worsening the pounding in your ears. the straps of your dress are clinging terribly against your skin–you want to take it off, you want to wear something more comfortable, you want to just go to sleep, preferably forever… but you can’t bring yourself to.

you can’t even bring yourself to move.

so the rumors really were true? but why did gojo pursue so far just for you? why did gojo say those words to you when you spent the night together? why did gojo try so hard to convince you that night that he wanted to have sex with you because he loved you–and not solely because he wanted to have sex?

why did gojo lie to you?

another series of pings sound throughout the room, and you finally move to silence your phone. the noise is all so overwhelming. why the hell is your phone blowing up?

you check your notifications–mostly dms from people you don’t know, either asking if you and satoru were dating, or questioning you about what the hell happened at the party. you know that you’re gonna be the subject of gossip once you’re back at campus, and you hate it.

you were surprised at the numbers once you scrolled down your notification list a little further. ten missed calls from satoru, accompanied by a series of fifteen panicked messages. you open it, and you stare sadly at his contact photo and name, remembering the fond memory behind it. once you two actually started dating, you were merciful enough to add a heart next to his name, and even updated it to “toru”. he was elated at that.

you think you can barely even call him gojo now.

the most recent message was barely sent a minute ago. like it was on cue, you see the bright headlights pull up outside of your door. you wanted to sink into your couch and never resurface ever again.

you hear suguru’s car door open and close, and then frantic knocking outside. you walk to the door while sniffling, looking through the peephole just to confirm your suspicions. it was satoru.

“i can hear you crying through the door, y/n. i know you’re there.” he takes a deep inhale, and the tears start rolling down your cheeks again once you hear the complete and utter vulnerability in his voice. you just don’t know what to believe anymore. “shit, i’m crying too. well, i’m gonna explain myself even if you don’t care enough to listen to me. uhm, believe it or not, what happened at the party wasn’t my doing… at all. when you went to use the bathroom, this girl went up to me and started flirting with me, like she was waiting for you to leave or somethin’. i was g’na tell her to go fuck off but she pushed herself on my lap and before i could do anything about it you walked in and it was just all horrible timing and- god. i know it sounds unbelievable, right? you must think i’m terrible right now.”

“you don’t have to believe me. if i were in your shoes i wouldn’t know what to think either. i’m just… explaining what happened.”

there’s a long period of silence between you and satoru, aside from the occasional sniffling on both ends. you don’t know what to say. you want to believe him. you want to do nothing more than to open the door and let him hold you in his arms again, but you just don’t know what to think anymore. you poured your entire heart out to a man who you knew you shouldn’t be messing with, and now you don’t know who or what to believe. you feel like a fool, and you’re just tired. so damn tired. the silence feels asphyxiating, like it's tearing your relationship with satoru further and further apart the longer it draws on.

satoru is the first one to break the silence. “i’m guessing from the silent treatment that you don’t believe me. it’s okay, y/n. i’ll wait an eternity for you to forgive me because i’ll always choose you- fuck… over anything, and i hope you know that.”

your mind is a mess, and satoru’s words make it even messier.

i’ll wait an eternity for you

i’ll always choose you over anything

you put your head in your hands and sob. it hurts.

a minute passes–gojo hears you get up from where you’re sitting behind the door, and his heart fills with hope.

“i just… i just don’t know how to believe you, gojo.”

his heart breaks when he hears the door–presumably to your bedroom–open and close, leaving him alone with his shattered heart. his heart breaks when he takes in your voice, noticing how weak and exhausted you sounded. he wonders how much you’ve cried just from this past hour alone. his heart breaks once he realizes that he’s alone with his thoughts again, alone with the voice in his head that was berating him for not being able to prevent all of this if he hadn’t frozen up and just pushed her away the second that girl started flirting with him. finally, his heart breaks once it registers that you called him gojo–the last name that he shares with his corrupt and money-crazy family… the family he tries so hard to get away from. it was also the name you called him during the days that you barely trusted him.

now, he’s back to square one, and he has none of your trust again. this time, satoru swears that he’ll do anything in his power to get it back once more.

you didn’t come to school today.

there’s been nothing but radio silence on your end. gojo has sent you countless messages over the weekend asking how you’ve been, with the occasional desperate voicemail where he tells you that he loves and misses you. you’ve turned off your read receipts, so gojo doesn’t even know if you’ve seen his texts or listened to his voicemails. he’s concerned for you, even though he knows that he’s the reason behind all of this. he was hoping to talk things out with you today.. but you weren’t even here.

one thing gojo knew about you is that you cared deeply about your academics, and you wouldn’t miss attendance even if you were sick. it pains him to know that he was the reason that you weren’t here today. you were avoiding him, and he felt helpless.

he’s talked to geto—and the best advice that his best friend could offer was to “find proof that you didn’t cheat on her.” he’s right, though. the last thing you had said to gojo was that you don’t know how to believe if he’s telling the truth or not. gojo has absolutely no idea how to prove his fidelity to you, since words clearly weren’t enough. it frustrates him to no end.

gojo now knows that he feels absolutely lost. all when he’s not with you.

it feels nerve-wracking to walk the halls.

he remembers telling you the night that you slept together that he’d learned over time to drown out the rumors about him. he learned not to care about what other people thought about him, and he eventually became unaffected by the school’s gossip.

however, this time was different.

this time, he finds it difficult to drown out the rumors when he hears your name in them. he flinches every time someone whispers your name and his as he walks the halls, feeling that all eyes are on him. “i heard y/n and gojo broke up…” “they were dating?!” “yeah.. i didn’t believe it at first, either! apparently he…”

he doesn’t want to hear it, so he walks a little faster. it hasn’t felt this suffocating to be on campus in a while.

maybe that’s partially why you didn’t show up. rumors are hard to ignore if you don’t know how to shun them out.

gojo lets out a sigh. he decides that he’s going to ditch the rest of class. you weren’t here, he couldn’t talk to you, and he felt he was gonna go mad if he heard your name spoken by someone again, so he turns to leave, but flinches as he feels a hand lightly tap his shoulder.

“gojo-san?”

he turns around, with a girl that he’s never seen before standing in front of him… not that he pays attention to them in the first place, though. he raises his eyebrow in question, and the girl looks so nervous she might pass out. “i have to tell you something-“

“if it’s a love confession or whatever, i don’t want to hear it-“

“-no!” she flushes a deep shade of red, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes. she coughs awkwardly at his expression. “um, no.. it’s not that. please, just give me two minutes in the library. i have something to tell you.”

he decides to entertain this girl for a bit. he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t curious about what she had to talk to him for. gojo sighs and says, “two minutes. that’s all you’re getting.”

“this is about the party last friday, no?” he says while taking a seat near one of the tables. he feels sick just being here. he’d never gone to the library before meeting you–as he had no reason to go here at all. then, he started accompanying you everywhere as he tried to win your heart. “study dates” were frequent here, and he even remembers forcefully changing his contact name and number on your phone during one of your dates.

gosh, everything literally reminds him of you. he can barely live like this.

she takes a seat across from him, and she shamefully nods at his words. “i went to the party on friday, and i just want to say i’m sorry-”

gojo gets up to leave. he can’t do this. he doesn’t need anyone’s pity. pity can’t change the fact that you still won’t talk to him. she panics as gojo is about to walk away. “wait!”

the librarian tells her to quiet down, and she mutters an apology. still, she persists. “please, just wait for two minutes… i need two minutes to explain myself. you promised you’d give me that.”

she stares at gojo, who hasn’t left yet, and takes that as her opportunity to speak. “i was a friend of… her,” he doesn’t need an explanation to know who she was talking about. “the reason why she came up to you was because of a dare i told her to do. she’s had a crush on you for a while now, so of course she was willing to flirt with you.”

“um, that was the dare, by the way. my friend told me to record it, because we were all drunk, and we thought it would be funny. just another memory to laugh at in the future, right? we didn’t know you were dating the girl you were with at the party. sorry but, we assumed she was just a fling… or something… we didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”

“yeah, i was dating the girl at the party.” gojo scoffs, and he feels his anger bubbling up again. “then your friend had to do that stupid dare, and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.”

“i’m sorry-”

“i don’t need your apologies. is that why you came up to me? to apologize so you don’t feel guilty about what happened anymore?” gojo sneers. he was right, though. guilt is ridden all over her face, and she can’t even meet his eyes. he’s about to leave, thinking that this entire conversation was useless, but gojo thinks back on what she said earlier.

“...my friend told me to record it…”

he turns back to look at her, which surprises her, to say the least. “hey, you said you recorded the dare, right?”

“uhm, yes.”

“so you still have the video?”

“it should be in my camera roll somewhere-”

“if you came here to apologize to me, then you should send me that video.” she looked a little horrified at his words, and gojo could almost laugh. “what? i’m not gonna do anything bad with it, god.”

she thinks about what gojo’s intentions could be with that video, and her eyes light up in recognition as she connects the dots from what he said beforehand. i was dating the girl at the party… then your friend had to do that stupid dare… and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.

she nods in understanding. this is the least she could do for him. she pulls out her phone, looking for the video, and says, “i hope you two make up soon, gojo-san.”

gojo satoru walks- no, runs out of that library with determination. determination as he finally has the video evidence of what happened at the party–his saving grace so he could finally get you to forgive him.

you miss him.

you miss him like hell, actually, and you blink at the messages he just sent you in complete disbelief.

you didn’t show up to class today because you were afraid. you were afraid to see satoru again, yes, but you were also afraid of what everyone else would say about you. the party was one thing, but the after-effects and the rumors were something completely different. you didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that, unlike satoru, so you stayed home. all because you were afraid of what would happen on campus.

you just wish things would go back to how they were before… all of this happened. you didn’t want to admit it, but you’ve read all of satoru’s messages, and you’ve listened to all of his voicemails. you’ve cried to them. and it hurts because you’re still torn apart in the midst of your own feelings. and now, satoru wants to talk to you, because he’s been wanting to do nothing but fix everything between the two of you.

the doorbell rings, and you almost jump out of your skin.

you didn’t even know if you would open the door or not. despite that, you felt your body moving on its own, like you were relying on your own instincts. you washed your face to get rid of the dried tears on your cheeks, brushed the tangles out of your hair, and dressed into something more presentable. the next thing you know, you’re leaning against the wall next to the front entrance. your shadow is visible underneath the door, so satoru knows that you’re here.

“hi, y/n..” he sounded so nervous that you almost laughed, but you felt equally as terrified as him. “i have something to show you… uh, on my phone. if you don’t want to see me, it’s fine, i’ll just send it to you, but i’d really prefer if you open the door and we’ll talk about this inside-”

your hand is already reaching the door knob before you can even think about it. it’s such an impulse decision that you look at him in surprise once you open the door. it’s the first time you’ve seen him ever since you were at the party. it’s only been three days, but you can’t help but notice how his eyebags are more prominent, his eyes are a little redder, and he looks nothing short of exhausted.

“hey,” he manages to breathe out, his eyes meeting yours. “can i come in? please?”

you nod, too stunned to say anything, and he exhales in relief as he walks in. the two of you sit on the couch, and gojo notices how you’re keeping your distance from him. it breaks his heart a little.

he looks for the video on his phone and gets ready to show it to you. this is it. his last ditch effort for your forgiveness. he’s really fuckin’ hoping that this works. “i got this video from a girl who came to the party. it’s a recording of, um, what happened.”

he hands the phone over to you, and you take it skeptically, still choosing to keep silent. you press play, and you watch the recording. a shaky hand holds the camera, and the person behind it says, “holy shit, she’s actually doing it!” they're presumably talking to their friend, and the camera focuses on a girl walking over to gojo. your heart is pounding, eyes widening in recognition as you stare at her... the one who caused all of this in the first place.

the all too familiar girl comes up to him, saying something out of earshot. when gojo looks at her, completely uninterested, she pulls that move. the scene you saw at the party before you ran out. tears fill your eyes again, and you almost want to stop the video, but your interest is piqued at the next part.

..this… this part was something that you didn’t see. gojo angrily reacts at the girl’s move, with her falling on the floor as she looks at him, stunned at how furious he looks. the person behind the camera gasps, continuing to record out of shock as a crowd of people turn to stare at the two. geto eventually comes into the frame and takes gojo away from all the chaos. the video ends there, and you grip gojo’s phone shakily.

holy shit.

tears roll down your face, but this time, they’re tears of relief. you waste no time in hugging satoru, crying your heart out as you bury your face in his neck. you’re happy. you’re so fucking happy, and so relieved knowing that he didn’t lie to you. of course he didn’t.

“m’sorry-” you sniffle into his shoulder. gojo is so shocked at what was happening that it takes him a second to hug you back, but when he does, he starts crying. “m’so fucking sorry i didn’t believe you-”

“shh, it’s okay, it’s okay…” he says, and you only hug him tighter. “m’so tired, you know that? these past three days fucking sucked. i’m just so glad you’re in my arms again, fuck-”

“-i love you, i love you, i love you so fucking much, toru.” you repeat, laughing as you kiss him all over his face. it’s been a while since you said that to someone. you wipe his never-ending tears away, still in disbelief, and whisper, “you’re real. right? you’re actually here with me right now ‘nd i’m not dreaming, right?

“i’m very much real, baby.” he says, putting his forehead against yours as you take in his features again. “god, i missed that pretty face so much.”

he finally closes the gap between you two, pulling you into a much needed kiss. it’s a kiss filled with so many emotions–desperation, happiness, relief. satoru thinks his heart is finally whole again. he’s missed you. he’s missed you so fucking much, and you’ve missed him too.

you’re like an anchor to satoru. the light of his life that keeps him grounded. and god, he’s been apart from you for too long.

you reposition yourself as you’re deepening the kiss. you’re on his lap now, and you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging on his hair in desperation. “oh yeah? ‘y gonna do anything about it?"

“of course i am,” he says, hands roaming underneath your shirt as he caresses your bare waist. fuck. he needs you. right now. especially after thinking that he was about to lose you forever–for something that he didn’t even do. “i’m gonna show you just how much i missed you, baby.”

gojo can’t let you go.

you’re in your bedroom, and both of you waste no time undressing each other. he takes you in–all of you, in awe of every crevice of your body as he trails his hands further down your waist.

god, you’re so beautiful. “i can’t believe i almost lost you.”

his words are shaky, like he’s still uncertain that you’re real and you’re in his arms again. he can’t seem to break himself away from you, almost like you’ll disappear if he lets you go. “but i’m here now, toru.”

“i’m here to stay, and i’ll never let you go again… ‘m yours,” you whisper, and your words set a fire in him, fueling his body with nothing but desperation. desperation to have you right here, and right now.

he wastes no time in plunging two of his fingers in your cunt, and he groans at just how wet you are. “satoru-”

“fuck, you’re so wet… and it’s all for me,” he mutters, spreading your legs effortlessly when you try to close them, thighs shaking in pure pleasure. he adds another finger, and you already feel stretched to the brim, and you haven’t even taken him in yet. the thought of his cock inside of you makes you even wetter than you already are, and you look up at satoru with eyes full of lust and desire. “missed you so much, baby. missed you and your pretty little cunny,”

his fingers are long, and you whine at how full you feel right now. you’re so loud, and you don’t even care. right now, it’s just you and satoru finally feeling each other again. it’s only been three days, but it feels like you’ve been apart for years.

everything about this was filthy. from your erotic moans and the way your cunt squelched against his fingers… not to mention the vice grip you had on them- fuck, satoru thinks he can cum untouched just from watching you like this.

“haa-” you whimper when his fingers curl and hit that spot in your cunt that you can barely seem to reach on your own. it’s exhilarating, and only fuels the growing heat in your stomach. “toru- don’t stop- please, i’m close-”

“really?” he taunts, and it feels so fucking good–your head is numb, and the only thoughts filling your head are thoughts of satoru. the pleasure is too much, and you try to get away from him, but he keeps you in place, curling his fingers faster as punishment. “don’t run away from me, baby… be a good girl and just take it, yeah?”

“toru- fuck- i’m gonna cum, please-” you’re on the brink of release, but suddenly, he stops, ruining your orgasm. “no- wait-”

he pulls his fingers out, and you whine at the loss of stimulation. you were so close–why did he take that away from you? you try and swat at his hands, but he just takes his fingers and puts them in his mouth, locking his eyes with yours with a sly smile. “you taste so sweet, i can’t help it,”

“aww, is my baby mad ‘cause she didn’t get to cum?” he coos sarcastically, caging you in between his arms as he tilts your face up with his finger. “too bad… the only thing you’re cumming on tonight is on my cock.”

and with that, he eases his painfully hard member into your walls. your insides hugged him perfectly–it was like you were made just for him. you gasp once he’s fully sheathed himself inside of you. his fingers were already a lot to take in, but his cock was something completely different. he moans your name, barely keeping his cool. “fuck- you’re squeezing me so tight,”

“missed everything about you, baby. i need to hold you, please,” he pleads desperately, clasping your small hands against his. the size difference alone between the two of you almost makes him cum, but he holds himself back, choosing to bask in this intimate moment. he’s missed every part about this. “you ready f’me?-”

“-just fuck me, satoru, please-” he doesn’t need another confirmation from you.

he can’t bring himself to hold back. next thing you know, he’s fucking you into the mattress, and you feel the headboard shake at how fast satoru is going. fuck–you feel every part of him, every part of his cock as it slams against your tight hole. he’s so big, you feel yourself gasping for breath, and you moan out loud as you notice the prominent bulge forming in your stomach. it’s him, it’s all him, and it’s driving you mad.

satoru follows your eyes in the midst of all of this, and he watches everything in fascination. he decides to be a little mean, and presses his free hand against your stomach–it feels so good, you could almost scream at the pleasure. “you feel that, baby? that’s all me inside of you, hmm?”

“please-” the onset of pleasure feels so overwhelming, and tears fill your eyes. you feel an oncoming orgasm coming, and you know your release will hit you like a tidal wave. your heart is pounding, but satoru only grips your hand tighter and fucks you even harder. “oh, fuck!”

“m close, baby. are you g’na cum too?” he manages to say between pants, and you somehow nod, mind hazy and your release only coming closer. you feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “cum inside of me, toru- please- i need to feel you-”

gojo groans at your words, and you both cum together. you ride out your high, screaming as you spasm around his cock, the pleasure overfilling your senses until you’re trembling from it. he fills you up, staying inside of you as the two of you catch your breath. everything’s hazy, and you’re barely aware of your surroundings… it takes you a few minutes to recover.

“angel, are you with me?”

“yeah, fuck, just… give me a second.” you say, and gojo thinks that he would gladly give you all the time in the world if you needed it. he pulls out of you with a hiss, and his warm seed drips out of your cunny. it makes his cock twitch, but he knows that you’re probably not considering a round two right now.

when you come to your senses, you notice satoru–who put his clothes back on already, wiping your legs down with a rag. his touch is so soft, like he’s afraid to break you, unlike how he handled you just a moment ago. you look down and notice the bruises starting to form on your legs and waist. satoru looks guilty as he stares. “i didn’t go too rough with you, did i?”

“not at all,” you reassure him, and you see him soften up a little. “it felt really good, actually… thank you, toru.”

“s nothing. you know my girl only gets the best,” he teases, and you laugh. “i’m gonna go get you some new clothes and some water… i’ll be back, okay?”

you nod, closing your eyes again as satoru leaves the room. he’s back in two minutes, and he’s gently changing you into new clothes that he found in your drawer. you’re so tired that you can hardly move, so you let satoru do all the work. he caresses all of your bruises, apologizing again even if you already said that it was okay. he’s so gentle, a swift juxtaposition to what just happened beforehand, and so soft with you. once you’re clothed again, he brings a glass of water against your lips, and you greedily gulp it down as he keeps a hand on your back. he places it on the nightstand once you’re finished, and you grab his wrist after, tugging him back to the bed. “lay with me for a bit, toru.”

satoru doesn’t hesitate, laying down next to you on the bed and placing your head against his chest. your breathing is back to normal, and you feel his heart thumping against your ear. you wrap your arms around him, and satoru thinks that this moment is so domestic that he can’t help but daydream. he looks at your face, memorizing every feature about you with a lovesick look in his eyes. you’re so beautiful, so perfect, and he’s just so fucking glad that he didn’t lose you.

satoru thinks he could wake up to this everyday.

“you’re starin.” you say with an amused look on your face. gojo doesn’t even try to play it off. “what’s on your mind?”

“nothing. i just… love you so much, y/n.” he says, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead. satoru would trade anything if it meant that this moment wouldn’t end. “m so glad you chose me.”

“i think it’s the other way around,” you tease. “you chose me. ever since you saw me at the party, you’ve done nothing but try to win my heart.”

“how could i not? there was just something different about you compared to everyone else.” he reminisces about that night at the party, and how far he’s come with his relationship with you. he remembers that night like it just happened yesterday.

you sigh, almost like you were thinking about that night too. you pull him into a kiss, finally finding the courage within you to say a proper “i love you.” to the man who meant the world to you.

“i love you too, angel.” he says, and you snuggle into him tighter. “you know i’ll always choose you…”

“..from this life and into the next. i’m so glad you gave me a chance, y/n. i’ll forever be grateful to now be called your husband. i’m the luckiest man ever knowing that you let me into your life, and i’m the one who gets to read these vows to marry you. i cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you. i love you so much, y/n gojo.” he’s crying. gojo satoru is crying, and he’s hardly ever cried before. though, that changed after he met you.

the last time he cried was during pre-k, and now he’s done it time and time again… all because of you. he cried once during your first argument with him, another during the night he thought he’d lost you forever, and then another when he finally had you in his arms again once he proved his innocence… and now, during his wedding, when he finally gets to call you his wife.

and when you share your kiss at the end of the ceremony to symbolize your togetherness, you hear all your friends cheering. mainly shoko, utahime, and geto. if you showed this very scene to shoko during your university years, she’d call you crazy, saying this would never happen. gojo satoru was once a man who’d never willingly committed in a relationship before, but you came into his life and you changed everything about him. it was like magic.

you pull away from the kiss, wiping his tears away and whispering against his lips, drowning out the crowd, “thank you.”

for memorizing all my favorite foods so you could buy them for me. for walking me to class every day. for making me fall in love with you that one day at the park. for waiting for me to slowly love you even when i was scared to love. for waiting for me even if i didn’t trust you. for loving me. for proving those rumors wrong. for proving that satoru gojo is actually capable of falling in love and pouring his heart out to the one he loves the most.

for everything that you have done to love me.

it was like gojo could hear all of your unspoken words. he smiles, letting one more tear roll down his cheek, and says, “it’s all worth it if it’s for you.”

thanks for reading <3 -kami.

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worriedvision · 5 months ago

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He snaps at you for missing your anniversary dinner - Wriothesley

Angst, gender neutral reader. Lore may not be accurate solely because phones are used as a form of communication. Angst ending

When you had turned up to the nice restaurant, dressed in your finest to match how much you loved your boyfriend, you were looking forward to finally spending time with him. Being in a relationship with him was lacking with the general seeing each other, and dates were even rarer.

At first, you weren't overly concerned that he wasn't there yet - you knew all too well the issues that arise from his line of work. He would usually send you a message to let you know if something happened.

When 30 minutes pass, however, you begin to feel more eyes on you. Pulling out your phone, you call him. He picks up the phone after the 5th ring, immediately a sign something had gone wrong. You hear him huff and puff before he asks you abruptly what on this lovely planet you could possibly be calling about.

"Well, I've been waiting for you at-" before you can finish, Wriothesley cuts you off with a swear.

"Fuck sake, what part of me gave you the impression I would definitely have time for some silly anniversary dinner? If I don't show up after 30 minutes, surely that is the sign I won't be available unless I send you a message." He yells, the fact you happened to be on speaker instead of private mode projecting this to everyone in the restaurant. "Let me guess, 'oh, but I've made a fool of myself because of sitting like an idiot for this long for someone I happen to be romantically involved with', right? Well I've got some news for you, you delicate little flower. The world doesn't stop turning for you, there will always be more important things than you!" He finishes, you unable to hold back the embarrassed tears in front of the fully booked restaurant.

"I just wanted to spend tonight with you, is that too much to ask for? We've not seen each other that much, and I've been looking forward to this for months. It's sounding like you've not realised what date some work problems fall on, and you're taking out your frustration on me." You grumble out, the restaurant deathly silent as you continue. "You know, if you were honest about how you really felt about me from day one, I wouldn't have had my hopes up. There's plenty of fish in the sea that would love a much more casual relationship, but I'm not the one."

"...Wait, I'm -"

Before Wriothesley can continue, you hang up in him. It became clear to you that his role was too important for you to be a part of. You'd probably free up his timetable by ending things with him!

It didn't matter if he suddenly realised how badly he messed up, the truth of the matter was this wasn't a relationship where he could take you on many dates, but the important dates (e.g. birthdays, anniversaries) were the ones he would try his best to keep free. He didn't even tell you in advance today that he wouldn't be able to make it.

As much as it stung, you nod to yourself as you get up, the conversation in the restaurant finally building up again as you apologise for what everyone had heard.

#gender neutral reader #genshin impact imagines #angst #wriothesley x gender neutral reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley

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pia-nor481 · 10 months ago

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Max Verstappen NSFW alphabet

A-Aftercare (what they're like after sex?)

I feel as though he likes to be very sweet and soft so aftercare is very important to him. He's very fond of cuddles and running his hands all over his partner's body, maybe she resting against his chest. He really likes showers together so I think that's really common when at home.

B-Body part (what is their favourite part of theirs and their partner?)

As strange as it sounds I think he really likes his leg (have you seen his thighs and calves? Hot) so I believe he may like thigh riding for that reason. Furthermore, he must really like his girlfriend's thighs, keeping his hand resting on them, slapping them lightly in normal situations. Perhaps fucking her thighs from time to time.

I also think he likes his partner's lips, just so pretty. But also when they're around his cock.

C-Cum (anything to do with cum)

I actually think he likes to cum in a condom. He doesn't like to be messy, so that would help with that. But he would really like to cum in his partner's mouth. However I think he has a soft spot for facials.

D-Dirty secret (just a dirty secret of theirs)

I think, back in the day, he really wanted to have a threesome with Daniel. He never actually asked, but he would still be open to it

E- Experience (how experienced are they)

I think he may actually be very experienced, quite a lot of hook ups too. I'm not sure why I think this but you know. Not to be evil or anything but I think the first few times he would have to be guided a bit.

F- Favourite position

I think a position where he can see her face, so mostly positions where his girlfriend on her back. But I feel as though he would like to hook her legs over his shoulders. Or maybe where she has her legs around his waist and hands on the back of his heads. So things like 'the drop box' and 'counter top'

G- Goofy (how serious are they in the moment)

I think he'd be a lot more serious, even though (off track) he can be a silly, he's a very funny guy. But at the same time I also imagine some very unserious situations- I'll touch more on this in kinks. Over all I think it's 50/50 as his job is very serious all of the time, so he would want something different to that.

H- Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes)

He's one of the odd few whose pubic hair is actually lighter. I also feel as though he's lazy with trimming it, I'm not sure why, but he doesn't strike me as someone who shaves/trims every few weeks.

I- Intimacy (how are they during the moment? Romantic? Pleasure driven?)

He definitely likes to be more romantic, it just in his nature to be caring and loving (not to get into daddy issues or anything) so I see him as someone who really wants to pleasure his partner. But of course there are many times where he just wants to cum, whether that be post race or especially post-interview/ media work. (And he deserves it!!!)

J- Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I don't believe he masturbates very often, if he does then it will be because his partner is not with him, or she just isn't in the mood. (We love a consent king)

I feel like he masturbates mostly in his drivers room tbh, with a locked door ofc. But that's where he needs a quick release

K- Kinks (one or more of their kinks)

Acarophilia- becoming aroused from scratching. This sounds strange however, I think he may have seen a lot of media that expresses "if you've got scratched on your back you've done a good job" so I feel as though it's stemmed from this, and it gives him a sense of pride

Cock worship- he likes praise, give it to him. Both verbally and physically, he doesn't like to be edged though

Snow balling- passing of body fluids from mouth to mouth- but I don't think of it in this context. He likes to make out after giving head, or getting head. Can be kind of linked to a spit kink. At the end of the day he does really enjoy dominance (in all aspects of his life) so this is one of them.

Switch- now, I think he can just about be called a switch, as it is very rare for him to sub. He just likes giving up control every now and then. Mostly in winter and summer breaks from racing. This may link with power/role play, as people who dominate and make a lot of decisions in their day to day lives are like to want to give up control in their sex life to ‘get a break’

Role play- he likes his girlfriend to dress up, his favourite is police woman or nurse. He likes to give her a role that had authority.

L- Location (their favourite place)

I think he might really like hotels as he doesn’t have to clean up any of the mess in the room (he tips real good though) He probably favours more ‘domestic’ places, like the sofa (couch but I’m British so sofa)

Yes he is apart of the mile high club, but he felt as though they needed to be really quiet.

M- Motivation (what gets them going?)

Begging, his girlfriend telling him how desperate she is for him, and that he needs to fuck her, he’s just so pleased with himself, and her, that he can’t help but immediately get hard.

Or just generally getting felt up.

N- No (what turns them off)

Anything actually dangerous. For example asphyxiation- he wouldn’t mind having his hand around her throat, or restricting blood flow to her head for no longer than three seconds, to give that breathless/choking feeling, but he would try to steer away from it.

O- Oral (preference on giving or receiving. Skill)

He loves receiving as much as giving. I see him as a pleasure dom so he loved to eat pussy. But who is he to deny an orgasm from her mouth? I feel like he’s quite confident and capable

P- Pace (Are they fast or slow? Rough or sensual?)

Definitely more slow and sensual as he would really want her to feel how much he loves her. He makes love, he doesn’t fuck. But if you wanted it hardcore he’d be happy to oblige.

Q- Quickie (their opinions on them? How often?)

I don’t think he likes them very much. He’s actually quite patient, and so wants to take his time admiring and giving praise. Ofc he does have quickies here and there, mainly in his drivers room, or if he’s running late but still needs some pleasure.

R- Risk (will they experiment? Do they take risks?)

He won’t try it if he doesn’t think he will like it. His mindset is pretty fixed. However if you were to really explain how much you want it and how good it would make you feel, he would be persuaded. But if he felt genuinely uncomfortable he would definitely say he doesn’t want to do that again. But he’s willing to try a few things.

S- Stamina (how many rounds do they go for?)

Again I think he can last for a long time, just not may rounds. Maybe two in a day. He just can’t cum more than that or he’ll be shooting blanks.

T-Toys (do they own any? Do they use them? On a partner or themself?)

He never used to, but if he found out that she owned a vibrator of some kind he’d really like to see her use it. Then he’d like to use it on her, he wanted to know how different the orgasm felt when he was giving it to her. But I don’t think he’d use many on himself. Maybe a cock ring during a role play or when he’s subbing. He does really warm up to them and is willing to try all different kinds to see what makes her cum fastest or hardest.

U-Unfair (how much do they tease?)

In my mind he hates teasing himself, but he knows a little edging can heighten the orgasm so he would never be apposed to it. However it won’t be a spur of the moment thing, he will need to think about it for a while prior to the sex

V-Volume (how loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

I don’t believe that he is overly loud, very quiet grunts and groans. But he loves to hear his partner, it gives him a sense of pride

W-Wild card (a random headcanon)

A little later into the relationship, where he’s developed a fondness for toys, he though about buying a sex toy advent calendar (he had already bought one before telling her) and he was so excited throughout December as he wondered what was behind the door and how loud her moans would be

X-X-ray (how big are they?)

I think Max is of average length, but he’s very thick. And was very pleased to hear that’s what a lot of women prefer. I think his cock may turn right ever so slightly

Y- Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

I’d say he has a pretty low sex drive, maybe 4/10 he doesn’t see that as a main part of a relationship so he doesn’t think about it as much as people expect

Z-Zzz (how quick do they fall asleep afterwards?)

If he was subbing, he’d fall asleep so quick, defiantly still covered in cum. But if he was dominant, I think it would take a while as he really likes quality time, so he’d like to just talk, whisper sweet nothings, and cuddle for a while, until he gets too hot. (I found that interview so funny)

Let me know any thoughts you have, I’d love to hear.

#f1 x reader #f1 x reader smut #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #33 max verstappen #max verstappen x reader smut #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #max verstappen #MV:33 #f1 fic #f1

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lauraneedstochill · 2 years ago

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Make a move

summary: you think Aemond is too arrogant to woo you, but he’s got some tricks up his sleeve. pairing: Aemond Targaryen x F!Reader words: ~ 6000 warnings: a bit of bickering and teasing, it gets slightly heated (Aemond has a praise kink, but I doubt anyone is surprised), mostly it’s just silly fluff author’s note: this was inspired by “Crazy, stupid, love”, particularly the scene where Emma kisses Ryan (one of my favorite on-screen kisses!) and everything that follows. I recently rewatched the movie and had an idea for this story (also, I may or may not have a thing for men’s hands... you’ve been warned)

You keep mindlessly tapping your fingers on the wooden table, your cup of wine untouched. You don’t really notice the movement, too wrapped up in your thoughts, until your friend Margaret sneers.

“If you don’t stop, I might bite your hand off,” she says, sitting across the table.

“Then I’ll use the other one,” you huff but pause your fidgeting. “Better bite my head off, it will do us both more good.”

“But I like your head very much,” she pouts. “Is this about Thomas again?”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands and thinking back to the conversation you had earlier today with said man. Your emotions are a mix of annoyance and embarrassment as you can’t stop thinking about his words.

“He said the meeting will be of great importance. What if he...? You know,” you mutter, and Margaret huffs.

“I hope he won’t.”

“Hey, you are supposed to be my friend!” you playfully pinch her hand, and she fakes a gasp.

“I am your friend. And as your friend, I think you deserve way more than that sad excuse of a man,” her face gets serious for a second, and you feel your smile waver.

“Mar, you know I don’t have much of a choice,” you breathe out, and your heart sinks at the thought. “He isn’t that bad, really. He’s always been kind to me.”

“Sounds like every girl's dream,” she rolls her eyes. “And you want to settle down for a kind man? Nothing else?”

“What do you think my options are? Please, enlighten me since I’m clearly missing something,” you cross arms on your chest. You know she’s right and she means good, but your frustration gets the best of you.

Luckily, Margaret catches it and gives you a sympathetic smile.

“All I’m saying is that for as long as I can remember you’ve always dreamt of something more,” she extends her hand across the table and lightly squeezes yours. “We’ve been friends since we were little kids, and you are the most loving person out of everyone I know. Should I remind you who taught me how to dance? Protected me against my idiot brothers?” you giggle at the memory. “You’ve got an adventurous spirit and a heart of gold. You deserve an epic love story,” there’s a hint of sadness in her voice.

For a minute you sink into your thoughts again.

“And you think Thomas is not the one?” you sigh.

“He’s epically boring at best,” Margaret takes a sip out of her cup. “I know he’s not the one — and you do, too.”

“My parents approve of him,” you try to argue, but she’s quick to object.

“They only care about your approval. And they mistakenly took your lack of protest for it,” Margaret gives you a gloomy look.

“You are aware that I can’t wait forever, right? I’m not getting any younger.”

“Nor smarter,” she snickers.

“Not everyone is lucky to meet the love of their life at the age of ten-and-two,” you frown. Margaret and Jamie got married three years ago, but they have been betrothed for seven prior to that.

“Fair,” she beams, and you can’t stay irritated for long. They are still ridiculously in love with each other, and you are really happy for her. You just wish to feel that, too. You crave that indescribable feeling of longing and wanting and caring for someone else — and being loved just as much in return.

“Maybe the concept of love is overrated,” you ramble. “It was easy to believe in when I was a kid but... As I am growing older, it’s getting harder to cling to hope, I guess. And I’m trying to make an effort and meet new people and... to show just enough character to not scare them away,” you quote your mother. “Yet all of them just make me feel nothing. At all. And I—” you realize that Margaret isn’t listening, her gaze is on something else behind your back. “Hey, I’m pouring out my heart of gold,” you hiss, and her sight shifts to you.

Before you can question her behavior, she informs. “Someone’s been keeping an eye on you.”

“Margaret, I’m trying to have a serious conversation about my future,” you fight the urge to turn around.

“Maybe this is your future!” she winks, and you grunt at her silliness.

“We are in a tavern out of all places! I’d rather take a kind man as my betrothed than a drunk one,” you’re about to scold her, but your friend’s eyes go wide.

“His hair,” her voice is barely above the whisper. “I can make out the strands of silver,” Margaret slightly leans towards you. “You know what that means?”

“That you had too much wine? Mayhaps we should head home,” you suggest, but your friend protests.

“Sit down!” she shushes. “He is coming over here,” Margaret puts on a smile that looks painfully forged. The never-ending chattering of people around you makes your head hurt, and you’re too tired to play along.

“Mar, it’s been a long day, and the last thing I want is to waste my time entertaining some man’s arrogance and...,” you don’t get to finish because he interrupts your train of thought.

“What if a man entertains you?” his voice is low and cocky. You close your eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. You don’t want to make a scene in a public place so you pull yourself together, thinking that you can talk your way out of this ridiculous situation.

But when you turn to him, your eyes meeting his, your plan is suddenly forgotten.

He is taller than you, a black cloak covering most of his body and his head, so your attention is naturally drawn to his face. He wears an eyepatch, and you look over his sharp features — his prominent nose, high cheekbones that flow down to the curved contour of lips, plump and alluring. Margaret was right about the hair, but she failed to mention the color of his eye. Taking that into account, it’s not hard to guess that he’s a Targaryen. Which means that he definitely is arrogant.

Well, two can play that game.

You ignore his question and pointedly don’t stand up in his presence.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

“I believe the pleasure is all mine,” he is only looking at you.

“We just met, you should not jump to conclusions,” you feel Margaret kicking your leg under the table but dismiss her warning.

“Sharp tongue,” he notes.

“Will this be a problem?” you challenge him.

“On the contrary,” it sounds like he’s actually enjoying it.

It is tricky to read his intentions. But when his gaze is concentrated on you, it makes you feel like there’s no one else in the room, and that sensation is thrilling.

“What brings you here, if I may ask?” you press, trying to ignore the unknown feeling creeping up on you.

“It is a nice tavern, wouldn’t you say so? Since you are here, too.”

“No, I mean what brings you to our table. There are plenty of others you could’ve graced with your presence.”

“Something must’ve caught my eye,” he says, and you see a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Some thing? Well, the interior isn’t very eye-catching if you ask me. But we might have to disagree on that.”

“You aren’t being very agreeable, it seems.”

“That’s what servants are for, and I’m not one,” you’re being defiant yet it doesn’t bother him.

“Please, do tell me more about yourself,” he swiftly pulls up a nearby chair and sits right next to you, his eye never leaving your face.

“Should you pull another one? For your ego, since it takes quite a lot of space.”

He squints at your words, and the corners of his mouth turn into a grin.

“I think we have that in common,” he bites back, but there’s no anger in his voice. If anything, the man looks curious, and you have to admit that you don’t take offense at his wit.

“Are there any other far-reaching conclusions that you managed to come up to?” you turn your body to him, so now you two are opposite each other.

“I only got here a few minutes ago. But I am a great observer should you give me a little more time.”

“Am I supposed to take your word for it? You are not as convincing as you think,” you impugn, so he pauses briefly.

“You don’t trust people easily, do you? How’s that for an observation,” his voice gets quiet, but his gaze is piercing.

“Men,” you correct him. “I don’t trust men.”

“Any of them dared to break your trust?” he gets a little closer, and you instinctively gravitate toward him.

“That would’ve required them to gain my trust first,” you retort.

“And what would it take for me to do so?”

“Do you expect me to make it easy? That’s not very observant of you,” your grin matches his own.

“Nothing good comes easy,” he murmurs, and you involuntarily lay your eyes on his lips. “But I expect it to be worth it.”

You feel a pull toward him, something that’s hard to describe but oh so natural to give into. His confidence isn’t intimidating but rather attractive, and you can’t help but notice how his gaze warms up your whole body. He makes you feel wanted without even doing anything.

But then you think of Thomas. Of the upcoming meeting and your future that depends on it. And you know you can’t throw it all away for some silly conversation with a self-confident stranger. No matter how enjoyable it seems to be.

You bite your lip and look away from him.

“That is enough entertainment for today,” you put some distance between you two. When you give him a quick glance, you catch a shadow of disappointment on his face.

“Didn’t take you for a quitter,” the blond comments.

“You should manage your expectations.”

“Maybe I should manage yours,” he has some nerve.

“That would be very time-consuming,” you suddenly realize that he’s sitting in your way, and it looks like he isn’t going to move.

“Are you in a rush?”

“I am” — “She isn’t,” you and Margaret say at the same time. You feel your cheeks heating up as you give her a death stare.

“Has anyone told you that you look charming when you are embarrassed?” he remarks, and you want to wipe the smirk off his face. Preferably with your lips. You mentally scold yourself and push that thought away.

“Does this usually work for you?” you get up, thinking of a way out.

“You tell me,” he leans back on his chair with a shit-eating grin on his face, clearly aware that he's blocking your exit.

“Cornering women in taverns is your way of courting?” you think how to distract him, but nothing springs to mind. “And then what, you just drag them into your man cave?”

“They come voluntarily,” it looks like your words struck a chord, but he keeps up the facade of indifference. “I happen to live nearby,” he notes casually.

“We both know that’s not exactly true,” you scoff with a tilt of your head. You are positive that the walk to the castle will take at least thirty minutes.

“Want to bet?” he sits up straight.

“And what do I get out of this?”

He looks you up and down before answering:

“Me.”

He’s pushing his luck at this point.

You glance around and take note that the tavern is packed with people, and no one is paying attention to you. You also realize that Margaret already sneaked out and is standing at the door. She raises an eyebrow with a silent question, as if asking what are you going to do.

That’s when you decide you can push some boundaries, too.

Your eyes are back on the man in front of you. Without giving it a second thought, you step closer to him.

“Was that supposed to make me weak in the knees?” you whisper, and his face expression melts into an amused one. Seizing the moment, you yank your dress up and throw a leg over him. He immediately looks down at the exposed skin of your thigh, his mouth is slightly agape as he’s now sitting between your legs. You see him tensing up, his fingers clenching into fists as if he’s fighting the urge to put his hands on you. You think that if he does, you are not going anywhere. You wouldn’t want to go anywhere — the realization makes you tremble, and you know that you don’t have much time.

You boldly place your hand on his shoulder, pressing him back onto the chair.

“I hate to break it to you, but you are not that impressive,” you say, throwing your other leg over him and successfully moving away.

When you get to the door, the look on Margaret’s face is priceless. You grab her by the arm and drag her outside in a hurry, merging into the crowd of passers-by.

“I need you to explain what the h—” she starts, but you interrupt her.

“Please, don’t,” you snarl. “Don’t say anything, just give me five minutes.”

You can’t even explain to yourself what happened back there and why you did that. You think of his gaze roaming over your body, the depth of his voice and the curves of his lips. You tell yourself that you need to get him out of your head as soon as possible. You fail miserably.

One week later, you are dining with Thomas at his house, and yet your mind wanders back to the arrogant one-eyed man. Aemond, as you’ve learned — and it wasn’t that you wanted to, but fate had other plans.

And by fate, you mean Margaret.

Once her five minutes were up, she couldn’t stop talking. By the time you came home, you got his whole backstory — the second-born son of the King, has two brothers and two sisters, rides the biggest dragon in the world. Overly confident, stubborn, wears an eyepatch because he doesn’t want to scare the ladies of the court. Usually doesn’t talk much.

Unlike Thomas who gathered his whole family and can’t stop blabbing. You struggle to participate in their conversation, giving polite smiles left and right. You don’t know what to expect of the evening, and it makes you nervous. And not in a good way. All of a sudden the possibility of marrying Thomas doesn’t seem to be the best.

From the corner of your eye, you catch him standing up, clearly readying himself for a speech. He has a manner of pursing his lips every time he’s agitated, and it looks weird. That’s also how it felt when he kissed you, which is probably the reason you haven’t done much kissing after that. You wonder what it’s like to kiss Aemond. Just thinking of it makes your heart rate speed up, and you nervously gulp half a cup of wine.

“I gathered all of you today to make an important announcement,” he starts his pompous monologue, “that may not come as a surprise to some of you.”

You cautiously look at the door.

“But, as of recently, I received inspiration to change the course of my life. And I decided to devote myself to the service of Gods.”

You nearly choke on your drink. In all the years you’ve known Thomas, he’s never been to the Sept once.

“And I wanted to grant you this privilege to be the first ones to know.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. You wait for any other announcements — literally anything else — but Thomas goes back to chattering, also accepting pointless congratulations. It takes you ten painfully long minutes to get a chance to talk to him alone.

“May I have a word?” you inquire, and the two of you move to the far end of the room.

“It is about your speech,” you clarify. “It might sound silly, but I thought that you were planning... Um,” you’re trying to formulate your concerns. “I was wondering, how would you describe our relationship? Or the prospect of it, I should say,” you give him a tight smile.

“Oh,” his face pales slightly.

Your facial expression mirrors his. Oh?

“I am actually glad you asked,” he awkwardly takes your hands in his, and you notice how sweaty his palms are.

“You know, you’ve been a great companion of mine,” his voice is as weak as his smile. “And I am forever grateful for those moments that we shared as they only brought me joy,” his hands feel like jelly, and you don’t want to hold them. Like, ever. “But now that I’m choosing to follow my destiny,” you do your best to suppress a chuckle at his dramatic phrasing. “I decided that... I need some time to figure out how I feel. About us.”

You look at him, dumbfounded, his words sinking in.

“You need... some time?” you drawl, feeling an emotion bubbling up in your chest. You are not sure what it is. “You? Need to think about us?” you repeat, and he nods, his brows furrowed at your reaction.

There is a moment of silence, and then you hear yourself laughing. You can’t control it as you’re overcome with emotion, your laughter only growing stronger, to the point of you tearing up a bit. The emotion is relief. There’s no way you’ll ever marry this man.

“I am the one who should be glad, Thomas,” you shake his hand while he seems wildly perplexed, all of his guests staring at you. “Thank you for your honesty, really. I hope you will be successful in all your endeavors, marriage included.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but you already turned around.

“Where are you going?!”

You stop for a second, your thoughts rushing back to the conversation with Margaret. To that evening in the tavern.

“I have a meeting, it’s of great importance,” you say and quicken your pace. You reach the tavern when it’s already getting dark, the weather is cloudy, and your coat is wet in the light drizzle. You walk in a daze as you’re torn between being excited and anxious. There is a chance that Aemond won’t be there. That he doesn’t remember you. That he’s with someone else. That he had a change of heart. That he...

You spot him almost immediately after you walk in.

Coincidentally or not, he’s sitting at the exact same table you were at the first time you met. You stay still as his eye absentmindedly wanders around the room and then lands on you. Aemond stands up — way too quickly — and you see a well-known grin growing on his face. Your eyes dart to his lips, and the question pops up in your head again.

You feel the pull — and before you can think, your body follows it.

He keeps his gaze on you, his brows rising at the speed of your approach. You cover the distance in a heartbeat, your hands reaching his face, and he slightly flinches, probably because your fingers are cold from being outside. And then you stand on your tiptoes and crash your lips onto his without any hesitation.

He gasps, surprised and frozen for a moment. It takes just a couple of seconds for him to melt into the kiss, and his hands are instantly on your waist, pulling you closer to him. Aemond’s lips are way softer than you anticipated — and it’s the only thing on your mind. His mouth on yours, warm and exploring, the slow pacing of the kiss that leaves you lightheaded and yearning for more.

He presses your body into his, lifting you up with ease, and your feet leave the ground. You tug his hood further down so it covers most of your face, too, and then you slide your thumb up the sharp line of his jaw. His tongue runs over your lower lip, and you feel a wave of heat rising in your stomach.

You pull away before you can take it too far.

“You remember me?” you ask him, panting.

He hums, his eye focused on your lips.

“Still believe that nothing good comes easy?” you mimic his words, but he ignores your jesting.

“Definitely,” Aemond looks you in the eyes, keeping his hands on your waist.

“Is the bet still on?”

“Yes,” the corners of his mouth curl.

“Lead the way, then.” By the time you reach the castle, the rain is pouring in full force, and your clothes are drenched. The two of you rush through the streets, your hands intertwined, and it feels like it only takes about ten minutes before you sneak into his chambers, both out of breath and giggling.

Only when you take a look around the unfamiliar settings, it suddenly dawns on you that you are all alone with a man you barely know, and your bravery starts fading away.

Whether Aemond notices the change in your mood or not, you can’t tell, but he respectfully keeps his distance.

“You need to get out of these,” he points at your coat and dress. “They’re soaking wet.”

“Is this your way of trying to get me naked?” you eye him suspiciously, making Aemond scoff.

“I just don’t want you to catch a cold,” he honestly states. “I’ll fetch you a shirt of mine.” Sensing your doubts, he adds, “Don’t worry, it is long enough.”

He brings you the shirt and politely turns away, going to the other end of the room to light the fireplace. On his way there, he removes the cloak and the jacket, his upper body only covered by the same piece of clothing he gave you. You watch him carefully, noting the movement of his back muscles as he bends down.

The sparkling glow of fire brings you back to reality, and you hastily remove your clothes, leaving the undergarments on, which are luckily dry. You put on his shirt, and it barely reaches your knees, but the material feels nice and comfortable. While Aemond is still busy with the fire, you glance over his room.

It’s spacious and simply furnished, and your attention is drawn to a couple of shelves nearby. You look at the tightly packed rows of books, some of the hardcovers are worn out from old age. You catch the familiar naming and pull one of them out, gently flipping through the pages.

“You take interest in philosophy?” his voice startles you. You missed the moment he came back, and when you take your eyes off the book, you see him leaning on the nearest shelf, looking at you inquisitively.

“I do, indeed,” you confess. “And I read this one so many times, my own copy pretty much fell apart.”

“You can take mine,” Aemond offers.

You notice that despite his cockiness, his presence is actually very calming. Everything is easy with him — striking up conversations, making jokes. Taking his hand in yours, running in the rain. Kissing.

Your heart skips a beat, and you sheepishly move on to another topic:

“Shouldn’t you change as well?” you refer to his shirt, but he shakes his head.

“No need.”

“Oh, was it the Targaryen’s dragon blood that helped you dry up?” you tend to jest when you’re nervous, and right now is no exception.

“My cloak is too thick for the water to soak through. But I like your version, too,” his lips ripple into a smile.

You can help but smile back. “Thank you for the shirt.”

“It looks really good on you,” the words smoothly roll off his tongue and ignite the familiar burning deep in your core. He keeps his gaze on your face, your eyes locking for a moment.

You look away first, letting out a timid laugh.

“I must admit, I like this way of courting better,” you place the book back. “But you can cut it short. What’s your move?”

“My... move?” Aemond gives you a quizzical look.

“Yes, your big move. Show me,” you request eagerly.

“Don’t know what you're talking about,” he looks down, his aplomb faltering.

“What do you usually do to impress a lady?”

“I don’t really need to do anything,” Aemond shrugs.

“What a humble individual you are,” you chuckle and give him a minute to think. “So what is it?”

“I just told you...,” it seems like he’s trying to dodge the topic, which only sparks your curiosity.

“Oh, come on! You princes always have a move. Let me guess, you speak to her in High Valyrian? Men like to talk big,” he snorts. “No? Try to win her over with your...,” you gesture at his bookshelves, “...precious collection? Although it’s risky because what if she’s not into reading, that would be awkward,” and then it hits you. “Wait, it’s the dragon, isn’t it? You show her your dragon? Got to make sure it’s well-fed, though, otherwise you’ll have a date with a roasted —”

“It’s my sword,” he cuts you off, and you swear you can see him blushing at the confession.

“Um, your sword? Is this a metaphor for someth—”

“Gods, no. I mean the actual sword. The one you grip with your hand and poke people with.”

“That description didn’t help,” you tease, and he groans.

“You know what I mean,” Aemond gives you a pointed look, but his face flushed pink, and you can’t take him seriously.

“I do, you just look really charming when you are embarrassed,” you say cheekily, which makes him huff. “My apologies. Please elaborate on the sword. How does it work?”

Aemond hesitates but then realizes that you will never let it go, so he gives in.

“I bring my training into the conversation. And then I... show them,” he talks with his hands when he’s uncomfortable, and you find it endearing.

“And that’s it?”

“Pretty much,” Aemond nods.

“They watch you train, and that’s what does it for the ladies?”

“I don’t know why, I never gave it much thought.”

“Well, someone should. Can’t imagine it ever working on me.”

You feel a sudden shift in the air as Aemond slowly looks up at you. You’re standing a few feet apart, and he’s yet to initiate anything, but once again, it only takes a look from him for you to feel a familiar flare-up of the tantalizing desire.

“I’m not going to take you to the training yard in the pouring rain,” he concludes.

“But it’s not about the place, is it? Must be something about you,” now you’re the one champing at the bit to see what the fuss is all about.

“I don’t have a sword on me.”

“Opt for something smaller, I am sure it will do,” you hint at the dagger that you’ve seen him carry, and wait expectantly for him to agree.

Aemond reluctantly contemplates your suggestion, then sighs and goes to get his dagger which he left next to the cloak.

You wonder if the ladies are attracted to his competitive spirit. If they enjoy the feeling of danger they get at the sight of steel, the cold shine of it, the clang of swords. Or maybe it’s the urge to take sides and root for the winner?

And then you see Aemond rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, — and your breath suddenly hitches.

The room is lit by fire, the warmth of it illuminating his skin, casting shadows that frame every muscle of his arms. He takes the dagger in one hand, the movement fast and honed, and your eyes follow it. You notice the scattering of his veins that go down his wrist and into his palm, the blue lines tightening with every swirl. The silver blade catches and reflects the light, but you are focused solely on his flexing muscles.

He’s maneuvering the dagger with ease, almost carelessly, yet you know that every motion is well-practiced through years of training. His long fingers grip the hilt, revealing the sharp outline of his knuckles. The steel silently cuts through the air, again and again, but your eyes are glued to his hands. The way they move, the power that he holds in them. The things he can do with them, with his fingers. The way they will feel on your bare skin and in your... You swallow, letting out a shuddered breath.

“Are you weak in the knees yet?” his words bring you out of your trance, and you blink a couple of times, trying to shake the feeling off. Your body is so heated, you’re surprised you are not sweating yet.

“Is this the point when the ladies throw themselves at you?” your voice is hoarse, and you take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself.

Aemond stops his movements. You feel your skin tingling with anticipation, waiting for him to finish what he started, but he doesn’t budge. For a short while, you’re taken aback by the change in his demeanor — and the realization strikes you.

“Wait, how many ladies were here before me?”

“I never said I take them here,” he puts the dagger back in its sheath, averting his gaze.

“But you told me that you do your... thing with the sword for them.”

“In the training yard, with other people around us, yes.”

“So then you just leave them all hot and bothered? Aemond, that is cruel,” his actions confuse you, but while you’re looking for an explanation, he turns back to you and finally meets your gaze.

“It would’ve been cruel to lead them on when I feel nothing for them,” he reveals, and you discern the raw honesty in his words. And you know exactly what he means. It’s the tiresome attempts to find someone who will spark your interest, to spot a connection, all of those efforts leading nowhere and making you feel like you’re the one at fault. But you aren’t — and he isn’t, either.

Aemond looks almost ashamed of letting out something so personal, but you welcome the intimacy of this moment.

“I shall consider myself lucky, then,” you say softly.

He gives you that same look that makes you feel like the world around you disappears.

“You are... something else,” Aemond mumbles.

You guess that he isn’t used to being straightforward about his feelings, nor does he know how to express his affection with words. You really, really want to kiss him again.

The boyish grin reappears on his face.

“Did you mean I left you all hot and bothered?” Aemond narrows his eye.

“I never said that,” you smile coyly. “Maybe you should’ve tried a little harder.”

“I happen to have some tricks up my sleeve,” he takes a step towards you and, before you can ask for details, you feel his fingers on your ribs as he starts tickling you, and you immediately burst into laughter.

His touches are light, fingers grazing against your clothed skin as he subtly moves you further into the room until your legs bump into his bed. Losing your balance, you fall on it, your back met with the fluffiness of thick blankets. Aemond hovers over you, and you can’t stop giggling, trying to wiggle away from his tickles.

Wrapped up in the moment, you make a careless move, your hand brushing up his cheek — and you suddenly see a bright gleam of blue on the right side of his face.

Aemond freezes at the spot, halting his actions, and momentarily flinches away. You are gawking at the sapphire, unable to form a coherent sentence.

He makes a move to fix his eyepatch, but you stop him.

“Don’t,” you catch his hand mid-air, your grip delicate but firm, and he doesn’t fight it. You would’ve been surprised by your own quick reaction if only your mind wasn’t completely occupied with the sight in front of you.

It looks like the gem absorbs all the light in the room, shimmering with various shades of blue. It’s cut in a way to imitate a surface of an eye, the sides of the sapphire polished and blending into each other. There is a depth to it, bright sparkles drowning in a color that’s close to black, and the spillovers are mesmerizing.

You bring your hand closer to his face, to the area that’s been left covered and unloved, and touch the skin with the tip of your finger. He lets you.

“Wow,” you breathe out, gently tracing his scar. “This is the most badass thing I’ve ever seen.”

Aemond looks at you in disbelief, his eye fixed on your face, and his lips parted.

“...What?” he manages to ask.

“You look like a pirate. A really badass... sky pirate?” you suggest, and he lets out a light chuckle, still not entirely sure he believes you.

So you shamelessly continue.

“A pirate with his own dragon. The largest one in the Seven Kingdoms as I’ve heard,” you can almost feel him swelling with pride. “He charms the ladies with his fighting skills — and has a gem for an eye? Incredibly irresistible,” your index finger circles the area around his sapphire.

He listens attentively, holding his breath.

“A prince who is as good with his sword as he is with his wit, fond of reading and isn’t averse to mischief. Any lady of the court would’ve been fortunate to get a hold of such treasure,” you remove the eyepatch and tenderly cradle his face. “Yet I am the one who’s been honored to see all of him,” you glance from the bright gemstone to his eye and back. “Honestly, it’s kind of hard to pick which one I like more...,” you are barely able to notice him sharply lower his head, and your words die down.

Without a warning, Aemond covers your lips with his, the intensity of the kiss pulling the air out of your lungs right away. He’s been holding back the first time, but he isn’t now, and the passion sets you ablaze. His tongue slips into your mouth, easily tangling with yours, and you moan at the contact. Aemond skilfully unbuttons your shirt, and the second his fingers touch your skin, you shiver, the quivering sensation washing over you. His hands slowly slide down your ribcage, tracing the curves of your body, making your back arch, your chest flush against his, your heart pounding. He contours the bend of your hips, then presses his palms there, his touches rough, claiming, burning. You move your fingers up the base of his neck and run them through his hair, and he releases a shaky sigh. Aemond relishes in the feeling of your compliance, the fervor of it, your body being so needy and welcoming, until you are both gasping for air.

“Was that impressive enough?” he rasps, and you look up at him through your lashes, spellbound and breathless. His pupil is dilated, gaze clouded with lust, your noses adjoin.

“Yeah-yes. Yes, very,” you utter, at a loss for words.

“Good. Because I’m about to outdo myself,” he tightens his grip on your thighs, picking you up and moving into the middle of the bed. Your head barely touches the pillow when his lips are on yours again.

🔥 my masterlist

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes

#aemond targaryen x reader #not gonna lie the main reason I'm finally posting this is because a few ppl on AO3 liked it and it gave me a *little* boost of confidence #kinda??? I mean it also took me a few days of trying to convince myself to post it on tumblr #(also I've been staring at this draft for 4 hours)#my confidence is non-existent lmao #my stuff #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond one eye #oh god how many tags can I come up with #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfics #aemond targaryen fics #hotd fanfiction

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