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eraenaa · 7 months ago

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King of My Heart

King Aemond Targaryen x Queen Reader Tag List

Synopsis: Marriage, miscarriage, and the monarchy… how would you and your husband fare to them all?

Warnings: Mature, Softer Aemond, Mentions of Miscarriage, Fluff, 18+, P in V Sex, Not Proofread

Word Count: 5,929

A/N: Final part (maybe) of But Daddy, I Love Him and Mine, but could be read as a standalone. Based on an anonymous request where they wanted "a scenario where the reader enters her period and fears Aemond will be disappointed that she's not pregnant yet but he comforts her and takes care of her" and a photo of a fan art sent by 1ssah-blog

War did not commence, but the heir to the seven kingdoms was altered. As the iron throne rejected your grandsire, Viserys the First, your mother, Rhaenyra, rejected the seat that was promised to her. A shocking turn of events that was an outrage to her loyal supporters and to her husband. Declining her right to the throne meant her heir, Jacaerys, will as well have no claim upon it. In consequence, the throne was given to her half-brother, Aegon, the squandering prince who had no wish for duty, ultimately abdicated the most powerful seat of the realm. Passing the responsibility to your husband, who took the opportunity eagerly.

You were not certain how to take this turn of events. Though you were eased as this not caused further strife and bloodshed upon your family, you did not know how to receive this great responsibility you were never prepared for. You were never readied to become queen.

It was as if all the events, private or otherwise, were tidal waves hitting you one after the other, suffocating and whirling you around. Whatever reservations and dilemmas you had were hidden, for you did not want to dampen the happiness in your husband. He never uttered it, but you knew that deep inside, he greatly wished for the throne. And you believed that it would be entirely selfish of you to make known the doubts that presented themselves the day it was announced that Aemond would be the ruler of Westeros.

“I have a surprise for you,” You hear him say, your mind regaining focus. You placed your gaze upon your King husband, who sat across from you. This was the first supper you had together in private after all the debacle for the throne had been settled. Yours and his new title have proven to take a great deal of both of your time that you started to scarcely have time to enjoy the private presence of one another. “What is it?” You asked, placing a small smile on your lips. “Once you finish your meal, I shall show you,” He replied, and you gave a nod. Once your plate was emptied, you frowned as your husband helped you to stand, placing a cloth on your eyes. “Aemond, what is this?” You questioned, feeling his cold hand take yours as he led you out of your chambers. “Like I’ve said, it is a surprise,” You hear his smirk through his words, and you silently and blindly followed him through the halls of the keep.

When he made you halt in your tracks, you felt the cloth around your eyes loosen. Aemond stood before you in the throne room, obstructing your view from the surprise he had commissioned. When he stepped to the side, your furrowed brows shot up, and your lips parted in surprise. The renowned iron throne that stood lone in the middle of the hall was now in the company of another. The king’s throne was now accompanied by the queen’s. “Is… is that for me?” You asked hesitantly. You hear Aemond let out a chuckle and guide you to step closer to the iron thrones. “Of course it is, you after all are my queen,” He hummed, enjoying the way you were still enveloped in surprise.

You were silent as you gazed at the newly made seat, one specifically made for you. You could not believe that your husband would disregard decades of tradition and alter the most powerful and fearsome seat in the realm to make place for you. Aemond gazed at you as you still gazed at the seat. He knew his decision to add a seat for his queen would not be well received by the others; he could not find care. He could not stand as you were stood by the side during long trials and engagements. He felt uneasy as you stood far beyond his reach, your usual place next to him desecrated and sacrificed when he needed to sit on the throne. He often had the urge to just perch you on his lap during those long days of meetings, restless as he was constantly missing your touch, but he knew that would simply mortify you.

“Come, sit on your rightful place, my queen,” Aemond said, pulling you towards the iron thrones. You bit your lip as he made you sit on the cold metal. Surprised that the swords did not prickle or offer you any discomfort. “How does it feel?” Aemond asked, taking his own seat, his hand finding yours and him intertwining them. “Odd,” You say truthfully. Aemond hummed as his thumb caressed your soft skin, “Best get used to it, my wife. This is your rightful place.” He said, and you were not entirely certain how to receive his words. A part of you was growing warm and familiar with this title, but a bigger part of you was still doubtful as to what it entails.

Aemond frowned as he heard no reply come from you. He turned towards you and saw that your gaze was once again far off. “What is it? What’s bothering you,” He asked, leaning closer, his fingers guiding your head to face him. You show your head and place a tight smile on your lips, “Nothing,” You say, hoping he will be convinced, not wanting to worry him and add to his burden, for he already had to shoulder the burdens of the realm. “Do not lie; tell me, what is it?” Aemond asked, tone now serious. You shook your head again. “Truly, it is nothing. I was just thinking about the preparations for your coronation,” You say, “Our coronation,” Aemond corrected, and you nodded, “Yes, our coronation,”

“Do not fret and tire yourself with the preparations, my light. Another could see to it, perhaps my mother or ma—“ You shook your head for what seemed the hundredth time that day. “No, this is my responsibility,” You say, and Aemond sighs. “You are overworking yourself. You think I have not noticed, but I have. You retire to bed later than I do, and you start your day earlier than I; you must not exhaust yourself,” Aemond fretted. “I am hardly exhausting myself— my responsibilities are nothing compared to yours,” You say, making Aemond sigh. “That is not the point,” he said, your concerned conversation toeing the line to an argument.

“You are quite fragile, my light. The whole of your family— even with their contempt for me, they still warned and accustomed me to the fact of your sensitivity, at how easily you are exhausted and taken by sickness. I cannot have you be overworked and burdened by tasks that could be delegated to others,” Your heart warmed at the concern showed by your usually stoic husband. “I just want everything to be perfect for your day,” You say lowly. “Our day,” Aemond once again corrected, his mind now growing suspicious at the fact that you only recognized his change of title but not yours. “Yes, our day,” you once again repeated.

When the two of you retired to your chambers once more, Aemond studied you with his keen eye. Only now did he realize that something had turned different; there was a shift in you that you had greatly disguised. Greatly so that only now did Aemond come to realize it. He tried to recall the whirlwind of events, from your mother rejecting the throne, then to his brother abdicating it, and finally, him being announced as the successor. He could not precisely point as to when, but as he recalled those days, he realized a spark in your eyes had dulled, and its sudden dullness was not the result of exhaustion or anything in regard to the succession of the crown. Something else was bothering you, and it seems to be of great magnitude, but you did not share it with your husband.

Aemond clutched you closer to his chest, burying his nose in your hair as you slept in his arms. He could not find rest as his mind was running with the thought of what was bothering you and why you had not confided with him. What secrets were you hiding from him? Why had you suddenly felt the need to keep quiet of your thoughts? Aemond’s heart beat loudly in his chest even though he was simply lying down, his thoughts running with the uncertain and devouring his insides. He must know the truth of what it was you hid from him.

You hastily ran through the halls of the keep, tardy for your meeting with the small council as you were preoccupied with your earlier engagements. You stood before the door of the room, hindering the guard from opening the doors as you tried to catch your breath, wanting to be composed as you entered the room. But you frowned as you heard the voices of men discussing you.

“My king… it is just that it has been a year since your marriage, and the queen has yet to produce an heir,” You felt your heart pit as you heard the words of a lord. “The court is starting to question the… the matter, and tongues are wagging that perhaps the queen’s womb is unsuited to carry a child,” You swallowed thickly as you still stood by the doors, listening to their quiet discussion that spoke of your fears that were unknown to anyone but you. Aemond kept silent as he stared down the men before him, “My king, the lineage for the crown has been altered twice in less than a year; its stable foundation created by the conqueror had faltered. And with this talk of the queen unable to produce you a son… it would not take long before the other houses to question the stability of the Targaryen name, as well as her validity as queen.” You felt vile climb your throat as your heart, achingly pitted in your chest. You were supposed to attend the meeting, but after hearing what they had said, you could not find the strength to do so.

Aemond clenched his jaw as the lords before him were threading the line of impertinence. “My wife, your queen, is still young. She is but eight and ten. Our heir shall come in due time; I will no longer hear of such speculating matters when there are other business we must attend to.” Aemond gritted, laying the subject to rest, but a foolishly bold lord still spoke. “Your majesty, your wife’s duty is to produce you heirs— to produce the next king of this realm. That must be her top priority, and as of now, the kingdom is witnessing her flail at this duty that a simple broodmare could do,” Aemond felt his eye twitch in great irritation, his insides alight with fiery rage at the words spoken against you. Aemond turned to Ser Criston Cole, who stood by his right and gave a knowing look, the knight stalking towards the lord who dared offend his queen.

The knight took the lord’s arms and bound them behind him, “You have not only offended your queen but her husband as well; for such impertinence, you shall stay in the dungeons for a fortnight and your house stripped of its title and land,” Aemond relished at the lord’s protest and desperate pleas as he was dragged out of the room of the small councils and into the dungeons. “Let that be a lesson to you all— the moment I hear about such disrespectful speculations about my wife, I will not hesitate to administer such punishments,” Aemond warned and watched as the lords before him nervously nodded.

When the meeting ended, Aemond questioned as to why you did not show. He returned to your chambers in search of you, and there he found you curled in your shared bed. Aemond silently walked towards you, his being wholly satisfied as you took his concern and decided to rest. But that satisfaction quickly disappeared as he saw your tear-stained cheeks and your slightly quivering lips as you slept. Who must answer for your sadness? What had led you to such a state? Why had you not run to Aemond for comfort just like the times before?

Aemond soothingly ran his hand through your hair, making you twitch and lead you to open your eyes. Your eyes widened as you realized Aemond had returned and caught you in such a state. “Why are you crying? What has bothered you?” Aemond asked, determined to know what plagued your mind that caused this unwelcome shift in your demeanor. Your lips agape to speak of a diversion, and Aemond already knew it. “Do not say that it is nothing when it is clearly a lie. Tell me the truth of it, wife.” He said sternly, but he quickly regretted it as tears quickly streamed from your eyes. “I failed,” You cried almost incoherently. Aemond’s eye widened as he made you sit up and took you into his arms, and you cried onto his chest. “W—what? You had not failed,” He tried to reassure you about a matter he was still to know of.

“I have! And the kingdom is starting to take notice!” You wailed, and Aemond took your face into his hands, imploring you to look at him. “I have failed you as your wife… I am failing as queen,” You cried, and Aemond felt his heart twist painfully inches chest to see you in such a state and hear you utter such false words. “I do not understand, my light,” he said quietly as you sniffled and tried to control your sobs. You took in big gulps of air as you tried to form the words explaining the events that happened and were kept hushed during the debacle for the crown.

“I was with child,” You say quietly, feeling the shock in Aemond as the words leave your lips. “During Aegon’s short reign, I learned that I was carrying our child. He was only a moon old, the maesters said, and I was waiting for an opportunity to share with you the news,” Aemond clutched you closer to him as he felt you tremble. “But the lineage was changed once more, and we both were busied to the point where the only time we saw each other was when we slept,” You say as tears continue to stream. “And when the day finally came that we were not too busied with our duties, where I could finally tell you that we were to become parents… I lost the babe,” You cried in shame and tried to turn away from Aemond, who sat before you in great shock.

You readied yourself for his rage and contempt. You knew he would not take this matter lightly; you believed he would blame you for being so careless and for failing, which is why it was a shock to you as he once again pulled you to him, burying his face in your neck as he uttered apologies. “Why are you apologizing? I was the one who had failed you,” You asked. “Failed? My light, you could never,” Aemond said softly as he embraced you tightly. “I was the one who had failed you— I was too busied with the crown that I have neglected my duty to you,” Aemond said in guilt. You breathed out heavily and shook your head, running your hands through Aemond’s silvery locks soothingly.

“Why did you not tell me?” Aemond asked after a short silence. You sighed and lowered your head, “I was ashamed.” You said plainly, “I could not burden you with this matter when you were already burdened by the troubles of the kingdom.” You explained further, hiding the matter because you knew if you uttered it, it would only prevail and actually become true. Aemond removed his face from the crook of your neck, “You should never hide such matters from me. The burdens you carry are the only burdens I truly care to know of and solve.” He said reassuringly, placing a kiss on your tear-stained cheek, tasting the salt that streamed from your eyes. “You’re not angry? Or at least disappointed? I…” You trailed as Aemond hushed you by kissing your lips. “Swear to me you will never hide such matters from me again; promise me that you will always come to me when anything— even the slightest of things bothers you,” Aemond implored and you bit your lip as you nodded your head. Aemond gave a curt nod to your agreement, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“But…” you spoke, “But what if I truly fail? What if I cannot provide you with an heir?” You fretted, knowing that your main royal duty was to provide your husband with a child. Aemond licked his lips at your question, pondering over a future where you two had no offspring. “Then the crown passes to our next of kin,” Aemond shrugged, and you were speechless by his nonchalant manner. “My light, I want for us to have children, I do. But I want you more. If we cannot produce an heir, then so be it; just as long as I have you, I’ll be perfectly and entirely content,” Aemond murmured, and your heart that loved him fell into a deeper love you never thought to be possible. “Do you truly mean that?” You asked, searching his eye. A part of you doubted his words, thinking it was only uttered to comfort you. “Of course I do,” He said genuinely. Though a part of him will always long for a child, to be a father that he never had, a greater part of him longed for you. He would rather have you constantly by his side, without the prospect of an heir, than have his line to the throne secured but without you.

You gazed up at your newly crowned king as he placed a tiara of rubies atop your head, a small smile grazing his face as he crowned you his queen. The eyes of the kingdom upon the two of you who were lost in each other eyes. The cheers that rang loudly died in your as you could only focus upon Aemond. It had been almost two moons since your admittance of what had transpired during the settlement of the crown, and since then, you and your husband had made it your mission to set aside time for each other, to not only focus on the demands of the realm but as well as your marriage. You placed a small smile as your husband guided you to take your seat on the throne next to him, the kingdom bowing and kneeling to show their fealty to their new king and queen. Yours and Aemond’s hands clasped around each other to show your solidarity for the kingdom as well as each other.

“How are you finding the festivities, my king?” You asked with a small smile, your heart pounding happily in your chest. “You out did yourself in the preparations, my light… but as my name day celebration, I am counting down the hours until we are left in the privy of our chambers.” You bit your lip as your husband whispered the words in you ear, your cheeks blooming in heat. “Well, just as I have said on your name day, you must be patient and obliging to our guest, dearest husband,” You grinned, and Aemond felt content to see how the liveliness in you began to return. “Very well then, but I shall deny any lord that asks you for a dance,” You let out an amused breath and nodded your head, “Very well, who am I to go against the orders of my king,” You teased and moved to stand.

“Where are you going?” Aemond asked, his gaze turning upward, his hand refusing to let go of your hand. “To greet my mother and siblings, I still have not spoken to them ever since their arrival,” You say simply; Aemond chewed on his cheek and nodded, reluctantly removing his hold of your hand, but his eye followed you as you gracefully made your way through the hall towards the nearby table that housed your kin.

“My queen,” Your mother greeted with a teasing curtsy, and you bit your lip as a wide smile appeared on your lips. “No titles are needed; I am merely your daughter, mother,” You smiled and embraced her, “Where’s father?” You asked, and just as the words left your lips, you heard him clear his throat behind you, your eyes beaming in delight as he held your sister. The babe soundly sleeping on his shoulder, “Little Visenya,” You cooed. Your father placed a kiss on your temple that was adorned with your newly appointed tiara. Your heart warmed at how he still attended your coronation, even though the debacle of the crown had left him entirely enraged, and the kingdom had begun to speculate that he and your mother had separated; of course, all of those were just mere rumors. The birth of your sister only solidifies your parents’ union.

“I placed them by the fireplace in your chambers, as you had requested,” Your father whispered to you in ancient tongue as he placed your sister in your arms, and you smiled at him with gratitude. “Thank you,” you say lowly and patted the back of your sister, who began to stir in your hold, giggling softly as she buried her face in your neck, her silver hair tickling your skin. You took a moment to catch up with your siblings, grateful to the gods that the change in succession did not alter your relationships with them, especially your bond with Jacaerys. You returned to your seat next to your husband, whose gaze had never left yours, your sister still in your arms and slowly waking, her violet eyes planted on Aemond as they peeled open, but Aemond’s lilac eye was entranced upon you, who presented him with such a sight that made his heart grow warm.

“I believe she wants to go to her king,” You say as Visenya reaches for your husband, her little babbles reaching your ears as her eyes were completely entranced on Aemond. Your husband swallowed thickly as you placed Visenya in his arms, him tensing as your sister was placed in his hold. “She likes you… one of my siblings likes you!” You beamed as Visenya started to giggle in your husband’s hold. Aemond shifted his head as the babe in his arms tried to take hold of his eye patch. You laughed quietly and reached for Visenya’s arm that was reaching for Aemond’s eye patch and placed on kiss on her little hand that smelt of talc and milk.

“She quite reminds me of you when we were children,” Aemond hummed, his gaze shifting between you and the babe. “Why? Because of her adorableness?” You hummed, brushing away the stray hair from Visenya’s face. “No, because she’s already covered in frills and precious gems. A spoiled little princess just like her sister was.” He said, noting the bracelet of gold and opal around her pudgy arm and the fine silk and lace of her clothes. You narrowed your eyes at your husband, flashing him with pretend annoyance that made him let out a laugh, catching the attention of your guests as he never displayed such glee so openly before.

Just like always, with any feast attended, you and your husband were the first to retire for the night. Aemond sighed longingly as you placed a chaste kiss on his lips before you disappeared into the adjacent room to disrobe. “I have a surprise for you,” Aemond heard you utter as he, too, removed the armor he wore. “Really?” He asked in amusement, “Yes,” You answered and returned to the main chamber in just your shift. Aemond raised his brow as he followed you to where you stood behind the fire. The light illuminated behind you and caused him to see through your shift, his needs for you presenting themselves greatly.

You turned to the fireplace and saw the box your father had left, bending down to take hold of it and present it to Aemond. “What is it?” Aemond asked as you stood before him with a rather large box in your hands. “You open gifts to find out what they contain, my prince. Has the late hour turned you simple?” You teased, watching as your husband rolled his eyes. He shook his head as he took off the cover of the box, a frown adorning his handsome face as he saw what you had presented him with. “Dragon eggs? What f—“ You giggled as Aemond’s face fell into shock, his mouth hanging wide in realization of what your surprise was.

“You’re… are you…” Aemond could not form words properly as he was enveloped with surprise. “You’re with child…” he said in amazement as he regained his composure. “You’re with child; you’re carrying our child,” he said once more, eyes wide and delighted. “I am,” you confirmed with a wide smile. Aemond could only move to kiss you as his mind was still discombobulated with the most joyous news. “There are two eggs… why are there two eggs?” Aemond questioned as your lips parted, his eye flying downwards to the box you still held that he then took and set down on a nearby table. You bit your lip as Aemond ran his fingers through the scaled shell of the dragon egg.

“I might be wrong… but I just feel as if I am carrying two babes,” you say lowly, fearing Aemond would find your statement ridiculous. He did not; his smile only grew as he pulled you towards him and kissed you once more. “You’re carry my children,” Aemond stated fondly, joining you in your suspicion that two lives grow in you. “I am,” You confirmed once more and felt him lay his hand flat on your abdomen; you gazed down as your husband kneeled before you, laughing as he enthusiastically placed his ear on your stomach that will be soon swollen with your children.

“Thank you, my light,” Aemond said tenderly against your abdomen. You cupped his cheek and bent down to kiss him. “I love you,” you said against his lips with a smile. “You will make the most wonderful father,” You added, and Aemond rose to his feet with a handsome smile on his lips, but that smile of glee turned to mischief, and your eyes widened as your husband placed his hands on your behind, squeezing the plump flesh. You melted in his arms as his lips met yours in a passionate kiss, your king leading you to your marital bed and laying you upon it gently as his lips kissed your neck. Aemond was conscious of not placing any of his weight upon you, but you missed the feel of his body against yours, pulling him closer to you, even going as far as wrapping your legs around his waist to feel him closer.

“I will crush you and the babes,” Aemond laughed as you whined at the gap between your bodies. You grumbled as you tried to pull him closer to you, but he was insistent on not placing any of his weight upon your body, especially your abdomen. “Aemond,” You whined, wanting to feel him against you. Aemond shook his head with a wide smile on his lips, a devilish thought presenting itself. Aemond tried to move himself atop you, but you circled your arms around his neck and tried to keep him in place. Aemond let out a laugh once more and moved to carry you, him switching your positions, him the one to lay on the bed, and you were atop him.

You stifled your moans as Aemond was underneath you, your core perfectly aligned with his throbbing length, and his hands cupped and played with your mounds. You let out a loud moan as Aemond pinched the buds of your breasts, smirking to himself as your heavenly moans echoed through the room.

“Such a beauty you are, my queen,” Aemond hummed as the dim candlelight illuminated your face. You ground your hips against Aemond’s trousered length, desperate to feel pleasure. “Aemond… please,” You moaned as you still feel him place most of his attention on your tits. “Say what you want, my wife… tell me what you need, and you shall have it,” Aemond hummed as he thrust his hips upwards, watching as your lips turned into an ‘o’. “You, I want you. I need you, please, Aemond,” You said desperately, content as you felt Aemond hastily undo the laces of his trousers, feeling his length against your skin.

You breathed heavily as you slowly sank down on his length, Aemond watching you with great awe. You looked down on your husband through hooded eyes, and you reached forward to take off his eye patch, wanting to see him fully. Aemond hissed in pleasure as the head of his cock brushed over the spot that made your head tilt back, your eyes roll in pleasure, and your moans turn louder. Aemond placed his hands at either side of your hips and felt your cunt clench around him painfully, a sensation he knew all too well and one that meant you reached your peak. “So quickly?” He breathed out in awe, your back arched as you try to regain your thoughts as you were quick to come undone by just sinking on Aemond’s cock.

The thought you tried to take hold of slipped out of your mind once more as Aemond trusted in and out of you at a slow, tantalizing pace. His hold on your hips was tight and quite possibly bruising, but you preferred it that way. You loved it when your husband left his mark upon your body. “Aemond… faster, please, my love,” You pleaded, and Aemond was quick to oblige your request, slipping in and out of you at a faster pace that made you come undone quickly once more. Aemond continued to watch in awe as you bounced atop him. You leaned down and met your lips with Aemond as you feel his cock twitch inside you and his thrust growing sloppy. You caressed the risen skin of his scar as you kissed him and as he fucked you, only parting your lips as Aemond was taken by his release and moaned your name as he came undone.

“I love it when you moan my name when you come,” You say with a grin and place small kisses on his neck and chest. Aemond hummed and tangled his fingers in your hair as you lay on his chest, him still inside you. “Do you wish to hear it again, little light?” Aemond hummed, making you let out a laugh before quickly nodding.

Aemond sighed in contentment as his gaze was planted downward. In his arms was your son, sleeping soundly as he clutched a dragon egg. Aemond gently ran his hands through the small head of your child, Prince Aemon Targaryen. He had his father’s hair and his mother’s eyes, a warm, almost golden brown that had the capability of entrancing Aemond. He placed a chaste kiss upon his son’s head as he walked through the keep, barely paying attention to his subjects who greeted and bowed before him as all his attentions were on your son who will soon celebrate his first name day.

Aemond reached his intended place, the great hall where all were bussed with yet another celebration. “My light, I have warned you time and time again, you must rest,” Aemond chastised as his arm wrapped themselves around your waist. His palm resting upon your swollen belly for you were in the middle stages of your third pregnancy. “I am not tired. And besides, the celebrations are set for tomorrow, and the preparations are still halfway made!” You said frantic, looking around the barely dressed up hall. “Where are the twins?” You asked as you looked around for your children.

You looked towards Aemond, and in the silence, you both hear quiet giggling to your right. You and your husband made quiet steps toward a long table and noted the giggles grew louder. Aemond handed to you your son, Aemon, as he bent down and lifted the cloth cover of the table to reveal the twins, your elder son, Daemion, who you named after your father, and your daughter Elaena, named after your husband’s sister. You smiled widely as their laughter rang loudly when Aemond scooped them in his arms and lifted them off the ground, peppering them with kisses, your husband no longer that conscious in showing his affection out in public ever since your first pregnancy four years ago.

“Did you get my sister’s dragon egg, Father? Can I see it?” Elaena asked, peering at Aemond, her lavender eyes widening in plea, and you walked closer towards them and brushed away a lock of her hair that resembled yours from her face. “Of course, you can, my love,” Aemond said, and he turned your twins towards their younger brother, who clutched the egg whilst he slept. “The baby inside mother’s belly is not a girl! It is a boy!” Daemion then declared, his violet eyes in a furrow as he disagreed with his sister. “No! It is a girl! Mother told me herself! Right Mother?” Elaena turned to you for confirmation, and you watched as Daemion was on the verge of a fit.

Aemond watched with great love in his eyes as the scene unfolded. “I believe what I said was I only feel that it is a girl. We will not be certain until the babe is born, my sweet,” You said and watched as Elaena puffed, “I want a sister!” She whined, crossing her arms and frowning. Aemond chuckled as your daughter was an exact copy of you in childhood. “And you shall have one. Even if the babe in your mother’s belly is a boy, we will shall not cease until we give you the sister you wish for.” Aemond spoke and kissed the cherubic cheek of his daughter, who was on the verge of tears, the little princess unaccustomed to not getting what she wanted.

“And you accuse me of spoiling our children,” You shook your head with a laugh as Aemond set the twins down, who readily ran around the hall once more. You beamed at your husband and fixed the askew crown atop his head, his arms once again circling your frame, and his head moved to kiss your lips. “Do you truly believe it to be a girl?” Aemond whispered as you two parted, him readily believing your intuition about the child you carry because he had come to learn it was impeccable. “I do. And I’ve already had a name for her,” You said, and Aemond raised his brow. “Hm… and do tell me about this name you had not asked my thoughts upon,” He said, and you smiled widely. “Eraena.” You said, and your husband hummed, pondering over the name for a moment. “Is that truly the name you wish?” Aemond asked, and you nodded. “Then Eraena it is,” He agreed and kissed your lips, the great love and joy in his heart that was emptied just years before translated in his kiss.

Here's the fan art sent! (CTTO)

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creamflix · 10 days ago

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IF I WAS A BAD BITCH, I'D WANNA F★CK ME TOO! ( PART 2 ) ၄၃ gojo satoru x female reader x (female?!) gojo satoru

18+ content, minors and blank blogs do not interact. established relationship. threesome featuring m & f gojo. dom! gojo(s), sub reader. bisexual reader. lots of crack. slight hurt & angst with comfort, existential crisis. somewhat rapid scene change. making out. implied quickie. mentions and use of sex toys (suction vibrator). overstimulation. fingering (f. recieving). slight voyuerism & cucking. cum play/eating. (guided) hand job. face sitting (go lesbians!!). p in v (missionary). somewhat marathon sex.

thank you all so much for the love on the previous fic :") i'm so glad you all see my vision, which is why i find much happiness in letting you know we're making this a series - nothing too serious or story driven, just a bunch of porn with plot oneshots for your reading plesure. :D i wrote female gojo with @owwllly's version in mind, so please show them your love xx

dedicated as always to my pookie daph aka @curtins , my fav bi icon @sugoroo & my lovely taglist. now if you'll excuse me, i'm going to take a veeryyy long nap. ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა

— general masterlist ☆ read on ao3 ☆ series masterlist

morning, if you could even call it that, felt like stepping into the twilight zone.

the sunlight creeping through the windows was annoyingly cheerful considering the depraved antics of the night before, and you were dead sure your neighbors were contemplating a noise complaint.

yet, here you were, trying to make sense of the utter chaos that came with two versions of your boyfriend.

it started with a groping. a teasing squeeze to your ass that you didn’t even flinch at — classic satoru.

except, when you turned to glare at him, ready to smack that stupid smirk off his face, you were met with her instead, casually twirling her white hair around her fingers.

“oh, was that not me? so sorry,” fem-toru (you had to call her something) said with the most shit-eating grin known to mankind.

“what the hell, woman?!” gojo bellowed from across the room, instantly at your side and scooping you up like you were a damsel in distress. “she doesn’t get to touch what’s mine!”

“what are you gonna do, sue me?” she teased, leaning against the counter with a smug tilt to her head.

gojo growled, the real one — or, male one? whatever — already dragging you off toward the bathroom. “don’t wait up,” he called over his shoulder.

“ew, like i’d wanna hear that,” she called back, although her smirk said otherwise.

and that was just the beginning.

when you finally emerged from round… whatever that was, the war for coffee mugs was already in full swing.

“that’s my mug!” you groaned, snatching at the familiar blue ceramic, only for it to be pulled just out of reach by fem-toru.

“finders keepers, babe,” she quipped, taking a long sip with a completely unapologetic look.

“you’re not even supposed to be here!” you hissed, trying to snatch it back.

“it’s my house too,” male gojo chimed in unhelpfully, hogging the last clean mug himself.

“not your house —” you paused, narrowing your eyes at the two of them.

“i’m going to need so much therapy after this.”

“probably,” they both said in perfect unison, which was both creepy and infuriating.

and then there was the final straw.

“you don’t need to borrow my bras,” you snapped at fem-toru, watching in horror as she rooted through your drawer, holding up one of your lacy favorites.

“but they’re so cuuuteee!” she whined, shamelessly sliding the straps over her shoulders to model it. “plus, i don’t have anything in my size. talk to him about that,” she added, jerking her thumb toward her male counterpart.

“don’t drag me into this!” gojo groaned, holding his head as though he were already plagued by a migraine.

“both of you, out!” you barked, finally snapping under the weight of their collective nonsense.

but as you flopped back onto the bed after shoving both of them out of the room, you couldn’t help but smile. the chaos, the absurdity — it felt oddly right, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

...even if you had to figure out how to hide your lingerie from a certain someone.

⋆˙⟡ —

you could practically feel the ground begging to swallow you whole as your elderly neighbor — a sweet lady who baked cookies and fed stray cats — stood at your doorstep with an expression that bordered on scandalized and horrified.

"dear, i just wanted to make sure everything was... alright last night," she began, her voice trembling slightly, but it was hard to tell if it was from age or pure shock. "i thought maybe something had fallen. or —" she paused, wringing her hands, "someone had fallen... repeatedly."

before you could stammer out a half-baked apology, both gojos emerged from behind you like twin specters of your shame, looking every bit as debauched as you felt.

gojo, with his signature grin, leaned lazily against the doorframe, his messy hair and unbuttoned shirt doing absolutely nothing to help the situation. "oh, don’t worry, ma’am. just some, uh, vigorous... exercise," he chirped, flashing a dazzling smile that could melt glaciers but definitely not the horror etched into her face.

fem gojo popped her head out next, her wolf-cut disheveled and a hickey darkening her collarbone. "he means cardio," she added helpfully, as if that made it any better.

"cardio?" your neighbor echoed, clutching her chest as her eyes darted between the three of you.

"yeah! it's important to stay fit, ya know," fem gojo continued, placing a hand on your shoulder as if you needed moral support through this ordeal.

"and loud," male gojo added with a smirk.

you wanted to die.

"i-i see," your neighbor stammered, her gaze now firmly fixed on the floor as she shuffled back a step. "well, um, maybe next time you could... exercise a little quieter?"

"we’ll keep it down, promise!" fem gojo called after her as the door gently shut in your neighbor's retreating wake.

as soon as it clicked shut, you whirled around, smacking both gojos on their respective arms.

"are you kidding me? cardio?!"

"what?" male gojo grinned, rubbing his arm. "it’s technically not a lie."

"and honestly," fem-toru added with a wink, "for our age, we're doing amazing."

"you’re not even old," you hissed, burying your face in your hands.

"exactly," male gojo quipped, draping an arm around you. "so no excuses for round two."

fem-toru smirked, leaning in with a sultry whisper. "or round twelve. you’re practically a pro now."

you groaned. this was your life now.

⋆˙⟡ —

you were about two seconds away from flinging the carton of eggs in your hand when you felt her — fem gojo, femtoru, whatever her name was — sidling up behind you like a heat-seeking missile.

“what the — ?!” you whipped around, heart hammering in your chest, only for her to give you that infuriating, all-too-familiar smirk.

"miss me?" she purred, leaning in close enough that her outrageously large rack brushed against your shoulder.

"how the hell did you even get here?!" you hissed, glancing around the aisle nervously as a mom with two toddlers gave you a raised eyebrow before continuing down the cereal section.

she pouted dramatically, looping an arm around your waist as if you weren’t about to die of embarrassment. "what, you thought a lil’ lock and key could keep me away? puh-lease, babe. i invented escapism."

"you’re kidding me," you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"oh, and don’t worry about satoru," she added, resting her chin on your shoulder as if you weren’t vibrating with anxiety. "i tied him up real good before leaving. pretty sure he's still trying to figure out how to untangle his legs."

"you did what?!" your voice cracked, drawing the attention of an elderly man perusing the soup cans nearby.

"relax," she whispered, nuzzling her nose into your neck. "he’ll be here any second. y’know how he is — doesn’t like to be left out."

as if on cue, a loud crash came from the store's automatic doors, and there he was — your boyfriend, his hair still a mess, shirt misbuttoned, and his expression a cocktail of irritation and smug determination.

"sweetheart!" he called, jogging down the aisles with zero regard for the stares he was attracting. "fem-me tied me up with my own blindfold. again. can you believe that?"

"i absolutely can," you snapped, trying to suppress the migraine threatening to bloom.

"soooo clingy, aren’t we?" femtoru teased, pressing even closer to your back. "you couldn’t even let me have ten minutes alone with her, could you?"

"ten minutes alone, my ass!" he barked, glaring at his female counterpart. "you kidnapped her! again!"

“‘s not kidnappin’ when she enjoys my company,” she quipped, smirking as she leaned over to inspect the snack shelf, her cleavage doing things you’d rather not admit out loud.

"you are literally me," your boyfriend shot back, clearly nearing the end of his patience.

“and that’s why she likes me better,” fem gojo said sweetly, tossing a bag of chips into your cart with an infuriating wink.

“both of you need to shut up,” you hissed, grabbing the cart and storming toward the checkout. “and stop dragging me into your circus act every time i try to do something normal — like buying goddamn groceries!”

but, of course, they followed, bickering like siblings the entire time. and you? you contemplated whether life in a hermitage was really that bad.

⋆˙⟡ —

the moment you placed your items on the conveyor belt, you prayed for a quick, smooth transaction. but, of course, with them around, that was wishful thinking.

“hey, y/n,” jess greeted with her usual cheery smile, scanning your items. she was sweet — always polite, never overly invasive, but you could see the curiosity bubbling just beneath the surface as her gaze flicked between you and the two absolute menaces standing behind you.

“hey, jess,” you muttered, trying to focus on the beep of the scanner rather than the chaos looming behind you.

your boyfriend was already muttering to himself, his black glasses perched low on his nose as he glared daggers at his female counterpart.

“goddamn wolfcut copycat... walking around like she owns the place... like i don’t have patents on being hot and annoying —”

“what was that, lover boy?” fem gojo teased, scratching at the nape of her neck, her perfectly styled wolfcut catching the overhead lights just right. her bright blue eyes were unhidden, and they sparkled with amusement as she leaned against the counter like she belonged there.

“lover boy?” satoru spat, his tone dripping with disdain. “you’ve got some nerve calling me that when you’re standing there looking like a discount version of me with tits.”

“discount?!” femtoru gasped, clutching her chest in mock outrage. “excuse me, but these,” she motioned to her ample figure, “are luxury items, thank you very much. unlike your scrawny pecs.”

you buried your face in your hands as jess froze mid-scan, clearly fighting the urge to either laugh or run for her life.

“so, uh…” jess began cautiously, trying to salvage the small talk. “doing anything fun later today?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but fem gojo beat you to it.

“oh, just a casual threesome,” she said with a wicked grin, winking at the poor cashier.

you choked. satoru groaned. jess went so red you thought she might pass out.

“shut up,” satoru hissed, grabbing fem gojo by the collar and dragging her back. “don’t you dare embarrass her in public.”

“oh, ‘m sorry,” femtoru drawled, clearly not sorry at all. “did i strike a nerve, lover boy?”

“that’s it. when we get home, i’m locking you in the closet.”

“aww, das kinda freaky —”

“not like that!”

jess handed you your receipt with trembling hands, her polite smile firmly in place despite her obvious confusion. “have a nice day,” she said, her voice a little too high-pitched.

“yeah, thanks,” you muttered, grabbing your bags and speed-walking out of the store, your two walking headaches trailing behind you, still arguing like children.

as the automatic doors closed behind you, satoru grumbled, “this is why i don’t let you out in public.”

“oh, please,” fem gojo shot back, tossing her hair. “if anything, i made it better.”

you didn’t dignify that with a response. you just kept walking, silently wondering if there was a refund policy for boyfriends — and their alternate versions.

the walk back home was a blur of bickering, your thighs still trembling from the "little assistance" fem gojo had oh-so-graciously offered during your "quick trip" back home. satoru — male satoru, your actual boyfriend, not the ridiculous female menace still trailing after you — was muttering something about how he should’ve strangled her then and there between the bread aisle and frozen foods.

you, meanwhile, were trying to stay upright and hold onto the groceries without collapsing from sheer embarrassment and, well... exhaustion.

⋆˙⟡ —

it wasn’t uncommon for fem gojo to be her usual chaotic self — hell, the woman was a walking hurricane of snark, gropes, and unnecessary comments. she introduced herself as “your lady” to strangers whenever your boyfriend wasn’t around, thoroughly enjoying the chaos that title caused. it was all part of the act, the cocky smirk, the teasing eyes — but you were no fool.

you’d caught the cracks in her facade more than once.

like the way her gaze lingered when you and gojo were tangled together, not in lust but something softer, more intimate. she’d watch the two of you from the corner of the room, her smile dimming for just a second before snapping back into place.

or how she’d stand in front of the mirror when she thought no one was looking. her bright blue eyes would trace her reflection, not with admiration but with a quiet, unspoken question. who am i now?

it tugged at something deep in your chest. for all her antics, you couldn’t ignore the truth — this strange predicament had to be hitting her harder than either of you could imagine.

so, when she sauntered into your room one evening, catching you brushing your hair, you weren’t entirely surprised when she leaned against the doorframe, watching you silently.

“need something?” you asked, keeping your tone light.

“just admirin’ the view,” she said with a sly grin, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

you rolled your eyes but didn’t press her, focusing back on your reflection. she stepped closer, and before you knew it, her hands were on your shoulders, her breath warm against your ear.

“y’know,” she murmured, her voice softer than usual, “i think you’re wastin’ all that sweetness on him.”

“listen, if you’re about to ask for a kiss —”

she didn’t even let you finish before pressing her lips against yours, hands cradling your face as if her life depended on it. it was messy, desperate, and entirely uncalled for.

you pulled back just enough to catch your breath, staring at her wide-eyed. “okay, what was that?”

her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. she looked at you, then down at her hands as if she were trying to piece something together. finally, she sighed, leaning her forehead against yours.

“you and him,” she started, her voice barely above a whisper, “you make it look so easy. being... someone.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden vulnerability. “‘toru...”

“don’t — don’t make this a thing,” she interrupted, laughing weakly. “’m not good at this. i just — wanna say thanks. for, y’know, not treatin’ me like some freak.”

her words hung heavy in the air, but before you could respond, she kissed you again. this time slower, deeper, her hands tangling in your hair as if trying to pour everything she couldn’t say into the kiss.

it was... a lot. but as her lips moved against yours, you decided to let her have this moment.

maybe it was what she needed — a way to feel grounded, even if just for a little while.

before you could even process what was happening, she had swept you off your feet — literally. in one fluid motion, her strong arms cradled you, and the next thing you knew, she was laying you down gently on the bed.

but this wasn’t like the usual antics you’d grown accustomed to. there was no teasing smirk, no biting sarcasm. her eyes, usually so sharp with mischief, were soft, almost glassy, her lips trembling like she was struggling to find the right words.

“please,” she whispered, voice breaking as she knelt beside you, hands hovering as if afraid to touch you too much. “lemme... lemme take care of you. just this once.”

it was so unlike her — so raw, so vulnerable — that it physically hurt to see her like this. this wasn’t the same brazen, overconfident fem gojo who pushed your buttons.

this was satoru, stripped bare of all the bravado.

your heart clenched as you reached for her, pulling her into a kiss, softer this time. you tangled your fingers in her snowy white hair, feeling her shudder against you.

“satoru,” you murmured, her name rolling off your tongue as naturally as breathing.

hearing her name — her name — from you seemed to break her entirely. she melted into you, her body caging yours as she kissed you like you were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.

and maybe, for that moment, you were.

normally, she’d be cocky about this — the teasing smirks, the knowing winks, the flirty little comments about how lucky you were to have her. but now, as she pulls back from your lips, her face hidden in the crook of your neck, it hits you like a truck: she’s not about to kiss you again, or nip at your skin.

she’s crying.

satoru gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive — gender be damned — is crying.

you freeze for a moment, unsure of what to do, until you feel her body tremble against yours.

then the sound comes — soft, stuttering sobs that claw at your heart.

“satoru,” you whisper, threading your fingers gently through her wolfcut, your nails grazing her scalp in soothing motions. “hey, it’s okay. ’s okay.”

her arms tighten around you, her weight completely draped over you as though she’s trying to bury herself in you, seeking solace in the only safe haven she knows.

“’m sorry,” she chokes out, voice muffled and shaking. “i’m... ion even know what’s happenin’ to me.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” you murmur, pressing your lips softly to her temple. “you don’t always have to be strong, you know. not with me.”

her sobs grow heavier, and you hold her closer, shushing her gently.

“you’re okay, satoru,” you reassure her, even as your own throat tightens with emotion. “i’ve got you.”

she clings to you, her tears soaking into your skin as you run your fingers through her hair, murmuring soft words of comfort. for once, there’s no strongest, no cocky remarks, no facade. just satoru, raw and vulnerable, seeking the comfort she so rarely lets herself need.

⋆˙⟡ —

gojo was already halfway through the door, his trademark bravado in full force as he prepared to yell and drag his female counterpart off you. he was ready to reprimand her for trying to get into his girlfriend’s pants — again.

but then he froze.

the sight before him should’ve sent him into a fit of rage: her large frame draped over yours, her hands clutching you tightly, your fingers stroking her hair. it was intimate, far too intimate. but it wasn’t the position that stopped him. it was the sound.

soft, stuttering cries filled the room, muffled against your neck.

his jaw tightened as his eyes flicked to hers — those same brilliant blue orbs he saw every day in the mirror. but this time, they weren’t filled with mischief or lust.

they were red, puffy, glistening with tears. the same look he’s seen reflected back at himself during the rare moments he allowed himself to break.

it hit him like a punch to the gut.

for all her cocky remarks, her sly smirks, her shameless antics, he recognized what she was feeling. he knew it too well.

and when her tear-streaked face turned to meet his gaze, it wasn’t with her usual defiance or teasing. it was raw, filled with an unspoken plea he understood without words.

gojo swallowed thickly, his fists clenching at his sides. for a moment, he hated seeing himself like that — so exposed, so... human.

“you’re just like me,” he murmured under his breath, his voice barely audible as his heart twisted in his chest.

and for the first time, he didn’t barge in, didn’t yell or tease. instead, he stood there, watching as you cradled the part of him he didn’t let anyone else see.

gojo stood there for a beat too long, debating whether to leave or join. he knew what fem-gojo was feeling — hell, it was his feelings, wasn’t it? — but addressing them? with words? that wasn’t exactly his strong suit.

he cleared his throat awkwardly, and both you and satoru turned your heads toward him.

"uh, hey," he started, scratching the back of his neck. "so, uh... group hug or what?"

you snorted, shaking your head. "get in here, you idiot."

“don’t call me that in front of her,” he grumbled, pointing at his counterpart, though he quickly shuffled over. fem-gojo raised her head slightly, glaring through her tears.

“you mean me? the better you?” she snarked, though her voice cracked halfway through.

gojo rolled his eyes but crawled onto the bed, situating himself next to the two of you. "yeah, better at crying, maybe."

"oh, like you don’t cry," she shot back, sniffing.

“never. not once. you’re a glitch in the matrix or sumn',” he said, pulling a face that immediately earned him a smack on the arm from you.

“satoru,” you warned.

“fine, fine.” he let out a long sigh, glancing at fem-gojo before finally reaching out, hesitantly patting her on the back. “there, there, uh... me?”

you burst out laughing despite yourself, covering your mouth with a hand as satoru shot you an exasperated look.

“don’t laugh! it's weird!” he protested, his hand still awkwardly rubbing her back in tiny, unsure circles.

fem-gojo let out a watery laugh through her sniffles, leaning her head back on your shoulder. "god, you’re pathetic."

“pathetic?! i’m not the one crying into someone else’s neck right now!”

“you’re literally crying on the inside right now,” she countered.

gojo froze, his hand stopping mid-pat. "...you shut up."

you rolled your eyes, tugging gojo closer so that he was sitting flush against fem-gojo. "look, you both are disasters. but you’re the same disaster, so maybe... i don’t know, figure it out together?"

satoru frowned, glancing at her again. his fingers twitched. "look, uh... you don’t have to... like, cry or whatever. i mean, i get it. i do."

“wow, deep,” she said, though her voice was softer.

he huffed, crossing his arms. "hey, it is deep! do you know how hard it is for me to open up like this?!”

“you call this opening up?” she muttered, but there was a flicker of a smile on her lips now.

“oh, don’t you start —”

you silenced him with a gentle nudge, smiling as you reached over to intertwine your fingers with his. "you’re doing great, babe."

he narrowed his eyes at you but eventually sighed, letting his head drop back against the headboard. "look, just... we’re the strongest, okay? we’ll get through... whatever this is. together. and maybe with mochi. lots of mochi."

fem-gojo finally let out a real laugh, her tears drying up as she wiped at her eyes. "god, you really are a loser."

“yeah, well, you’re stuck with me. literally.”

you couldn’t help but grin as you looked between them, the two most chaotic, emotionally constipated people in your life finally finding some common ground. even if it was over their mutual awkwardness.

"so... mochi, then?" you teased.

"go get some," they said in unison, both turning to you with the same expectant look.

"oh, you’ve got to be kidding me."

⋆˙⟡ —

you shuffled into the kitchen, grabbing a bag of daifuku mochi — the fancy ones he insisted on buying in bulk from that one upscale japanese market downtown. because of course he had to have the best mochi.

as you made your way back to the bedroom, tired and a little cranky, the sound of gojo’s voice drifted out into the hallway. at first, you thought nothing of it — probably just him and fem-gojo bickering again — but then the words registered.

“oh, and this one — this bad boy’s a classic,” gojo was saying, his tone tinged with nostalgia. “the first time we used it, she couldn’t walk for, like, two days.”

you stopped in your tracks.

“are you serious? that’s what you chose to bring up?” fem-gojo’s voice replied, though it sounded more amused than judgmental.

“hey, don’t knock it till you try it,” he shot back, and you heard a muffled sound, presumably the toy being held up for emphasis.

you slowly pushed the door open, and sure enough, there was gojo, sitting cross-legged on the bed with the most ridiculous grin plastered on his face. in one hand, he held your trusty pink wand vibrator, and in the other, a butt plug with a gem on the end — both of which he displayed like prized trophies.

fem-gojo was lying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, watching him with thinly veiled amusement. “so what’s that one?” she asked, pointing at the silicone dildo beside him.

“oh, that? that’s the one we used during her birthday last year,” he said with a wistful sigh, holding it up like it was some kind of holy relic. “man, what a night. she screamed so loud that the neighbors banged on the wall.”

your face burned as you stumbled into the room, nearly dropping the bag of mochi. "what the hell are you two doing?!"

both heads turned toward you in unison, blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

“oh, hey, babe,” gojo said, waving the butt plug at you like it was a greeting. “we were just reminiscing.”

“yeah,” fem-gojo chimed in, smirking. “your man here is really sentimental, huh? ’s kinda cute.”

“sentimental?” you repeated, glaring at your boyfriend.

he shrugged, completely unfazed. “what? these are like, milestones in our relationship. you can’t just throw these memories away.”

“memories? memories?!” you groaned, setting the mochi down on the nightstand. “‘toru, do you hear yourself? you sound like a pervert!”

“oh, c’mooon, don’t be like that,” he pouted, leaning forward to grab the bag of mochi. “besides, you love me. and her, apparently.”

“barely,” you muttered, though the heat in your face betrayed you.

“aw, don’t be shy, babe,” fem-gojo teased, rolling onto her back and stretching languidly. “you know you’re lucky to have two of us.”

“lucky? my back says otherwise.”

the two of them burst into laughter, and you buried your face in your hands, wondering for the millionth time how you’d ended up in this situation.

and as if they could read your mind, gojo leaned over, patting the space next to him. “c’mere, don’t be mad. let’s eat some mochi and talk about that other toy we’ve been meaning to try.”

you groaned, flopping onto the bed in defeat. “i hate both of you.”

“lies,” they chorused, and you couldn’t help but laugh despite yourself.

⋆˙⟡ —

you were trying — really trying — to enjoy the packet of daifuku mochi as it made its way around the bed. the sweet bean paste was supposed to be a distraction, a way to ground yourself after everything that had transpired over the last 24 hours.

but no, peace wasn’t an option.

"ya know," gojo said through a mouthful of mochi, holding up the wand vibrator like it was a microphone, "this one’s underrated. it looks basic, but the power, babe. remember how —"

"we get it, ‘toru," you cut him off, your voice strained as you grabbed another mochi to shove into your mouth. maybe if you kept chewing, you wouldn’t have to participate in this conversation.

fem-gojo snickered, popping a mochi into her own mouth before leaning closer to you. “you’re bein’ shy, huh? don’t worry, sweetheart, we know how much you looovve this one.” she waggled her eyebrows, motioning at the very wand vibrator in question.

you could feel your face heating up to a level that could rival the sun. “can you two not talk about this right in front of me?”

“but why not?” gojo teased, sliding closer until his thigh was pressed against yours. “’s not like you’re embarrassed, are you? you’ve used all of these.”

"i will throw this entire bag of mochi at your head," you muttered, holding the packet threateningly.

“aw, don’t be like that, doll,” fem-gojo cooed, her voice sugary sweet, though the mischievous glint in her eyes said otherwise. “we’re just reminiscing. plus, you’re blushin’, which means you’re totally into it.”

you glared at her, cheeks practically burning. “i’m blushing because you two won’t shut up.”

but the truth? the truth was much worse. as much as you hated to admit it, their teasing was doing things to you. the way their voices dropped an octave when they reminisced, the heat in their gazes, the proximity — all of it made your thighs clench involuntarily.

and you prayed to every deity you could think of that they couldn’t tell.

unfortunately, subtlety wasn’t your strong suit, and these two were anything but oblivious.

fem-gojo leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “what’s wrong, sweetheart? ya squirmin’ a lot.”

you froze, eyes darting to gojo, who was already smirking. "you’re awfully quiet now," he remarked, his hand casually resting on your thigh. "something on your mind?"

"nothing," you squeaked, clenching the mochi packet in your hands like it was a lifeline.

"reaallly?" fem-gojo purred, her hand trailing dangerously close to the hem of your shorts. "’cuz babe, we can feel how worked up you are."

your breath hitched, and you cursed your body for betraying you. “you two are insufferable.”

gojo laughed, his hand sliding up your thigh to join his female counterpart. “nah, we’re just really good at reading you. isn’t that right, satoru?”

fem-gojo grinned wickedly, her fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “totally. we’re a team, after all.”

you groaned, burying your face in your hands as the heat pooling in your stomach became impossible to ignore.

“look at that,” gojo said, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “our girl’s shy, but she’s soaked.”

“think we should help her out?” fem-gojo added, her tone faux-innocent as her hand slipped higher.

you had shitty luck. definitely shitty luck. and as much as you hated to admit it, you weren’t about to stop them. not when their touch felt this good.

⋆˙⟡ —

you've always thought the saying keep your friends close, but your enemies closer was a decent piece of advice. practical, even.

apparently, the two white-haired nuisances misheard it as keep your girlfriend close, but her sex toys closer, because right now, they were parading around the room with the entire collection of your toys like salesmen at a bizarrely personal convention.

“this one,” fem gojo started, holding up the suction vibrator with a devious grin, “‘s a classic. compact, effective, and i know someone here loves how quick it can get her to cum.”

“oh, but this —” gojo’s voice cut in as she brandished the glass dildo, twirling it like a baton. “this is art. sleek, sexy, and cold in all the right ways. remember that night when —”

“nope!” you interrupted, your face heating up as you snatched a nearby pillow to throw at him. “we are not going there.”

“oh, babe, we’re just gettin’ started,” fem-gojo teased. “don’t forget this bad boy.” she held up the dual-ended strap-on, dangling it in front of you like it was a prized possession.

you groaned, sinking deeper into the mattress as your face burned hotter. “why do you even have that?”

fem-gojo grinned, plopping down next to you with the butt plug in hand. “because you’re adventurous. and we love that about you.”

"and let's not forget," gojo added, leaning over to waggle the remote-controlled egg vibrator like it was a trophy. "this one. great for public and private use. remember that restaurant trip?"

"i will actually scream," you muttered, dragging the blanket over your head as if it could shield you from their antics.

"awwww, don’t hide, sweetheart," fem-gojo cooed, tugging the blanket away. “we’re just brainstormin’ here. picking out what’ll make the day extra fun.”

“yeah,” gojo agreed, dropping the pile of toys onto the bed before climbing on top of you. “but honestly, we’ll probably just use all of them. right, satoru?”

fem-gojo smirked, crawling up beside you. “absolutely. variety’s the spice of life, after all.”

you opened your mouth to protest, but before you could get a word out, your boyfriend had flipped you onto your stomach, his weight pressing you into the mattress as his hands pinned yours above your head.

“we’ll let you pick,” he murmured against your ear, his voice dripping with faux kindness.

“for, like, two seconds,” fem-gojo chimed in, her hands already tracing down your sides.

“and then we’ll do whatever we want,” they said in unison, their voices harmonizing in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

you were doomed. delightfully, utterly doomed.

you barely had a second to process what was happening. one minute, you were watching them bicker like overgrown children, and the next, the suction vibrator was pressed firmly against you, its unrelenting rhythm leaving your mind blank except for one resounding thought:

fuck! fuck! fuck!

your pleas — if you could even call them that — were an unintelligible mess. and to make things worse? they weren’t even listening.

“please — ah! — don’t stop!” you cried, your body trembling as the sensations overwhelmed you.

“oh, don’t worry, sweetheart,” gojo drawled from his spot beside you, his grin sharp as ever. “we don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

“yeah,” fem-gojo chimed in, her tone equally as sadistic as she pressed the toy down harder, watching your body jerk with morbid fascination. “you’re s’cute when you’re beggin’, though. keep going.”

you gasped, your back arching involuntarily as another orgasm crashed over you. your legs twitched, trying to close around the relentless toy, but fem-gojo tutted, holding you open with ease.

and then you noticed it — she wasn’t even paying full attention anymore.

“are you — are you seriously eating right now?” you managed to choke out between gasps, your glazed eyes flicking to her free hand, which was holding a piece of mochi.

“hm?” fem-gojo looked up mid-bite, her bright eyes wide with mock innocence. “what? girl’s gotta keep her energy up. besides, ya got him —” she nodded toward your boyfriend, who was leaning over you with the smuggest, most shit-eating grin ever — “to keep ya entertained.”

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” you whimpered, squirming as gojo replaced the suction vibrator with his fingers, curling them just right to draw out another cry from your lips.

“hey, i’m working here,” your boyfriend said, his tone dripping with faux exasperation as if he were the one being put through the wringer. “she’s just freeloading.”

“excuse me?” fem-gojo huffed, swallowing her bite dramatically. “i set this whole thing up. i’m the mastermind here!”

“yeah, yeah,” gojo muttered, his attention fully on you now as he leaned down to nip at your ear. “she’s not the one ruining you right now, though, is she?”

“as if you could do this without me,” fem-gojo shot back, shoving another piece of mochi into her mouth as she casually flicked the suction vibrator back on, earning a loud, desperate moan from you.

your head spun, torn between pleasure and sheer disbelief. and as another wave of a telltale orgasm built in your stomach, you realized with absolute certainty that surviving these two was going to take a miracle — or at least a lot more snacks to keep one of them distracted.

⋆˙⟡ —

you’d lost track of time, of everything really, as the relentless assault on your body continued.

it had only been — what? three orgasms ago? — when you thought you’d truly reached your limit, but nope. the suction vibrator was living up to its reputation, wringing every last shred of coherence out of you like a goddamn champion.

you whimpered, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as the toy finally stopped. for a brief, blissful second, you thought they were giving you a break.

but no, that hope was short-lived.

“geez, so sensitive,” fem-gojo cooed, tugging the vibrator out of you with an audible pop!, ignoring your weak whines and the way your hips tried to jerk away from her.

“don’t tell me you’re done already,” gojo added from his spot beside you, that familiar shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

you didn’t even have the energy to retort, your body trembling like a leaf. but what had you blinking back into reality was when fem-gojo — your filthy, depraved, down-bad excuse of a…girlfriend? partner? — brought the vibrator to her lips.

and licked it.

“oh my god,” you croaked, your voice hoarse as you stared in abject horror — and, god help you, a bit of arousal — as she practically drooled over the damn thing.

“what?” she said nonchalantly, swirling her tongue over the toy as if it were nothing. “gotta clean it, right?”

“clean it?” you echoed, your face flushing hotter by the second. “you’re — you’re disgusting!”

“am i?” she mused, licking a slow stripe along the edge before popping it out of her mouth with a smug grin. “taste just like mochi. sweet ‘n soft and sticky. good stuff.”

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands as your boyfriend outright cackled beside you.

“she’s got a point,” gojo chimed in, leaning over to smirk at you. “you do have that ‘irresistible dessert’ vibe. maybe we should start calling you ‘mochi.’”

“don’t you dare,” you snapped, your voice muffled against your hands.

“mochi it is,” fem-gojo declared with an exaggeratedly serious tone, popping another piece of actual mochi into her mouth as if to punctuate her statement.

you peeked through your fingers to glare at them both, but the effect was ruined by the way your body was still trembling, and the flush across your skin wasn’t helping either.

“geez,” fem-gojo muttered, her tone too casual for comfort as she gestured toward you with the vibrator. “she even jiggles like mochi. see?”

your jaw dropped, and the absolute audacity of her words was almost enough to jolt you upright — if your body wasn’t completely boneless from the onslaught.

“you’re both insane,” you muttered weakly, your voice lacking any real conviction.

“and yet, here you are,” gojo teased, ruffling your hair like you weren’t on the verge of combusting from sheer embarrassment.

you barely had time to process the chaos unfolding before you — your mind still reeling, your body trembling, and your dignity somewhere in the corner, curled up and crying. fem-gojo, that snarky, insufferable piece of shit, was clearly having the time of her life.

“oh, don’t look so done, mochi baby,” she crooned, her wolfish grin flashing as she grabbed your wrist. “i’ve got a brilliant idea. let’s multitask.”

“what the —” you started, but your words were cut off by the smug gleam in her eyes.

she brought your hand up, guiding it to where your boyfriend sat, already hard and clearly ready for round...what even was it? five? six? you lost track.

“i’m doing what now?” you squawked, but your protest was weak, your voice cracking as she maneuvered your trembling fingers to wrap around his throbbing dick.

“helping your man out,” she quipped, her tone all too chipper as if this was the most normal thing in the world. “don’t tell me you’re too tired to give him a hand, literally.”

“‘toru—” you started to snap, but she cut you off, her free hand sliding down to your already overstimulated cunt, drawing a shocked gasp out of you.

“don’t mind me,” she purred, her lips brushing against your ear as her fingers moved with deliberate precision. “i’ll keep you occupied while you help him out. teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

you shot a desperate look at your boyfriend, who was leaning back, looking far too amused by the situation.

“don’t look at me like that, babe,” he said with a smirk, his blue eyes practically twinkling. “you heard her. teamwork.”

“you’re both the worst,” you groaned, your hand trembling as you tried to follow fem-gojo’s guidance.

your efforts were valiant — or at least you thought so — but your trembling hands weren’t exactly cooperating. and judging by the way your boyfriend’s brows furrowed and his smirk turned into a frown, he wasn’t impressed.

“really, baby?” he muttered, his voice low and edged with irritation. “‘s is the best you can do?”

you opened your mouth to retort, but before you could get a word out, he grabbed your hand, his much larger one wrapping around yours.

“here,” he muttered, his tone dripping with exasperation as he moved both your hands together. “lemme show you how it’s done.”

“oh, wooww, would ya look at that,” fem-gojo chimed in, her grin downright evil as her fingers continued their sinful work on you. “teamwork really does make the dream work.”

your brain was short-circuiting, overwhelmed by the dual sensations of your boyfriend guiding your hand and fem-gojo absolutely finger fucking the living soul out of you. the three of you moving together in this absurdly depraved display of coordination was — god, you didn’t even know anymore.

“you’re — insane,” you managed to gasp out, your voice breaking as you felt your body quiver under fem-gojo’s relentless ministrations.

“baby please, you love it,” she shot back, her voice smug as she nipped at your thigh.

your boyfriend groaned, his hand tightening around yours as he picked up the pace. “focus, babe,” he muttered, his tone commanding.

as if you had any focus left to give.

“therrre we go,” fem-gojo hummed, her voice dripping with amusement as she watched the scene unfold. “’s more like it. look at us, a well-oiled machine.”

you wanted to retort, to say something snarky in return, but all that came out was a broken moan as your boyfriend cums on your hand, his low moan filling the room as the two of you worked together to finish him off.

“teamwork,” fem-gojo teased again, her grin widening as she finally let up on you.

“you’re both awful,” you muttered weakly, collapsing onto the bed.

“and yet, here you are,” your boyfriend quipped, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“mochi baby,” fem-gojo added, and you groaned, throwing a pillow at her face.

⋆˙⟡ —

"wow, six times already, huh?" fem-gojo’s voice broke through the haze of post-orgasm bliss you were floating in, her tone laced with mockery as she leaned against the headboard, arms crossed over her chest. her blue eyes glinted, flicking between you and your boyfriend with the kind of irritation that only her oversized ego could muster.

"must be nice," she drawled, running a hand through her wolfcut in exaggerated frustration. "lover boy here gets to finish, you’re over there makin’ sounds like a damn opera singer, and me? nothing."

"don’t start," you groaned, flopping back onto the bed like a rag doll. your limbs felt like jelly, your body spent, and you were dangerously close to tapping out for the rest of the day.

“oh, don’t start?” she shot back, her eyebrow twitching. “you’re really gonna sit there, lookin’ all fucked out, and say that to me? after all my hard work, this is the thanks i get?”

your boyfriend chuckled, clearly enjoying her theatrics as he tucked himself back into his boxers. "yeah, babe, ’s kinda rude. i mean, she’s got a point."

"oh, shut up!" you snapped, glaring at him. "this is all your fault, you —"

but before you could finish, fem-gojo had already swung a leg over your waist, straddling you with the kind of confidence that only she could pull off.

"what — wait, hold on —" you stammered, wide-eyed as she leaned down, her face far too close to yours.

“nah, sweetheart," she interrupted, smirking as her fingers trailed down your tits. "you don’t get to say ‘hold on.’ not when you’ve been holdin’ out on me."

“what the hell does that even mean?” you hissed, your face heating up as her hands roamed.

“it means,” she purred, leaning closer until her lips brushed against your ear, “i’m gonna sit on your face now.”

“excuse me?!”

your boyfriend burst out laughing, his whole body shaking as he clutched his stomach. "oh my god, this is amazing. please, don’t stop. this is the best thing i’ve seen all day."

“you’re not helping!” you yelled at him, though your voice was quivering as fem-gojo settled herself further down on top of you.

"what’s the matter?" she teased, her grin widening as she reached to tilt your chin up. “don’t tell me you can’t take it. because after everythin’ i’ve seen today, i know for a fact that my pretty girl right here’s a champ.”

“satoru —”

“yeah?” they both replied in unison, and you wanted to scream.

“this is ridiculous," you muttered, though your resolve was already crumbling under her piercing gaze and the way her hands played over your skin.

“ridiculously sexy,” fem-gojo corrected, her smirk turning wicked.

and before you could argue, she shifted her weight, her thighs caging your head, and all you could think was, yea, this is how i die.

your boyfriend leaned back against the pillows, grinning like an idiot as he watched the scene unfold. “yeah, six times is definitely the charm. but hey, babe, looks like you’ve got a seventh in ya after all.”

it was like watching synchronized chaos — if that was even a thing. as if a switch flipped simultaneously in their shared, cursed braincell, both gojos moved in perfect unison, practically tearing at fem-gojo’s top like it offended their very existence. “c’mon, comrade,” your boyfriend cheered, his stupid grin widening as he yanked her shirt up and over her head. “it’s for the greater good.”

“greater good my ass, you’re just horny,” fem-gojo shot back, though she didn’t stop him. in fact, she raised her arms to make it easier, her ridiculously large tits out in the open in all its glory.

“damn right i am,” he quipped, and in the blink of an eye, he was stripped down to nothing but his insufferable confidence.

meanwhile, you were desperately trying to focus on your task. a monumental task. a task fit for a girlboss, because you were a determined woman.

and that task? eating out your insanely hot girlfriend slash partner.

you flattened your tongue against her cunt, trying to ignore the heat flooding your face as her thighs quivered around your head. her hips bucked slightly, and she let out a strangled moan that quickly turned into a string of curses.

“fuck — shit — holy hell, that’s — oh, goddamn it!” fem-gojo gasped, one hand fisting the sheets while the other tangled in your hair. “what the fuck, how — how are you even doing that — fuck — oh my god!”

her cussing was relentless, sharp, and varied enough to make a sailor blush. “shit — fuck me sideways — you’re gonna kill me, holy tits!”

“holy tits?” your boyfriend snorted.

“shut the fuck up, sator — aah! ” fem-gojo snapped, though her voice cracked as another moan escaped her lips.

but you couldn’t even laugh, because you were the one fighting for your life. with gojo gripping your hips like a lifeline, and his cock buried so deep inside you that your vision blurred, outright bruising your insides, it was nearly impossible to concentrate.

"fuck, babe," gojo groaned, his voice low and breathless in your ear. "you’re squeezin’ me so tight — feels so fuckin' good."

and as much as you hated to admit it, tears were streaming down your face, soaking fem-gojo’s thighs as your tongue continued its shaky assault.

“shit — babe, you cryin’?” gojo asked, though his smirk was audible even through the haze of his pleasure. “s that good?”

you wanted to slap him, but all you could do was moan as another thrust hit that sweet spot inside you, making your whole body shudder.

“don’t stop,” fem-gojo whimpered above you, her thighs trembling around your head. “holy fuck, don’t stop — don’t fucking stop — oh m’god, ‘m gonna — fuck!”

and before you could even process her loud, breathy cry, your own orgasm hit like a tidal wave, your walls clenching hard around gojo’s length as you squirted against him.

“oh, fucckkk yeah,” he groaned, his pace stuttering as he chased his own release.

you barely registered anything else, your body shaking with the aftershocks as fem-gojo slumped against the pillows, completely blissed out.

"looks like i win this round," gojo panted, his voice smug as he finally pulled out and collapsed next to you.

"win? win?" you croaked, your voice hoarse and shaky. "satoru, i am literally dying."

and fem-gojo, still catching her breath, managed a weak chuckle. “honestly, me too.”

your boyfriend, the absolute menace, is standing there like he’s giving the keynote address at some unhinged sex expo. with a dramatic sweep of his arm, he gestures to the array of sex toys — sorry, “tools of pleasure” — that he had haphazardly, or as he put it, “meticulously,” arranged while you weren’t looking.

“ladies,” he begins, the same devilish grin on his face that could charm or terrify depending on his mood. “i present to you the greatest hits of our collection: the deluxe rotating dildo 3000 — absolute game changer, might i add — this double-ended masterpiece that got us through valentine’s day last year, and this little number,” he wiggles the suction vibrator like it’s a winning lottery ticket, “for when you need to set a new personal record.”

“oh my god, satoru, shut the fuck up,” you hiss, face burning as you try to hide your mortification behind a pillow.

but fem gojo? oh, she’s eating this shit upp. literally. her blue eyes light up with the kind of crazed glee you’d associate with a sugar-high kid who just got the biggest lollipop at a carnival. it’s neuron activation at its finest, and suddenly you feel a chill crawl up your spine.

“i like this one,” she says, grabbing the double-ended toy with a smirk, spinning it in her hands like she’s about to challenge you to a duel.

“a woman of culture,” your boyfriend says approvingly, holding up a fist for her to bump.

she does, and it’s the single most terrifying moment of your life.

“guys, can we not —” you try to protest, but it’s too late.

“you know what,” fem gojo hums, her voice sultry as she tosses the toy aside, leaning in with a dangerous glint in her eyes. “i was gonna let you off easy after earlier, but…” her gaze flicks to your boyfriend, and the two exchange a look that screams trouble.

“but now,” she continues, her smirk widening, “i’m all charged up. and since my dear clone here is such a team player,”

“we gotta keep the momentum going,” gojo finishes, cracking his knuckles like he’s about to play a round of volleyball.

“no, you really don’t,” you argue, trying to scramble away, but fem gojo’s already got her strong arms around your waist, pulling you back into the fray.

“oh, sweetheart,” she purrs, her lips brushing against your ear, “we’re not stopping until we turn you into a puddle.”

and with that, your fate is sealed.

again.

467 notes · View notes

musaslullaby · 2 months ago

Text

Being a future bride is torture

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: The wedding preparations are starting, and fans believe they’ve officially figured out who the princess is dating.

Face claim: People on Pinterest and Charles Leclerc.

Warning: Fluff, Instagram AU.

A/N: Maybe there will be a third part, i don't know.

Masterlist

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸/

Ynofficial

Description: I’m so honored to introduce you to my future wife.

Liked by charles_leclerc, kellypiquet, and other 6.366.362.

imrebecca: I can’t wait for the big day, I love you so much.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: I love you too.

imrebecca: No, I love you more. ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: And I love you even more.

charles_leclerc: Please, stop.

georgerussell63: Don’t be jealous!

user45: Are the Ferrari WAG and Red Bull WAG best friends?

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Exactly, baby.

04_81: Aww, how cute!

carlossainz55: Rebecca is the most beautiful woman in the world.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Mine.

imrebecca: Hey, the annoying princess is beautiful too.

charles_leclerc: I can confirm that.

francisca.cgomes: Don’t leave out my little star.

carlossainz55: Let me rephrase: these two girls are the most beautiful women in the world.

carmenmmundt: Much better.

lilymhe: We’re watching you, Carlos.

maxverstappen1: Can I have the number of the girl in the red dress?

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Stop it, you're making me blush.

user56: They already act like a married couple.

Ynofficial: Married for twenty years.

lan_: So cute!

maxie_: I wonder where Kelly is right now.

Ynofficial: In the likes.

op81: Do you think they’re on good terms?

04_81: Rumor has it on Messenger that they had a fight.

ynqueen: Maybe.

Ynofficial

Description: We’ve picked the date but are still missing the location. We might end up getting married in the streets.

Liked by charles_leclerc, maxvertappen1, and other 7.766.222

maxverstappen1: The streets of Monaco do have a certain charm.

Ynofficial: With the circuit in the background.

imrebecca: Let’s get married on a yacht! ❤️ Like to author

landonorris: Please no.

georgerussell63: No, please, otherwise Lando might throw up on me.

Ynofficial: Seems like an extra reason to do it.

charles_leclerc: We’ve figured out that Yn loves sunsets.

lilymhe: You’re just figuring that out now?

carmenmmundt: We’ve known for a while.

Ynofficial: Charles, you should be ashamed.

yourbrother: Actually, I didn’t know this either.

Ynofficial: I’d kick you out of the house.

yourbrother: But the house isn’t yours.

Ynofficial: I’ll ask Mom to do it. We all know who the favorite child is.

yourbrother: That’s not true.

Ynofficial: You can leave crying now.

user32: If you ever listen to us, Yn, I like the second location.

❤️ Like to author

race_: It gives off Rapunzel vibes. ❤️ Like to author

f1_: I can totally see Yn as Rapunzel. ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: I’d need to grow my hair and eat a magic flower.

user21: I love you, Yn. ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Love you too.

user21: I’m dying.

Ynofficial: Hold on, I’ll catch you.

Imrebecca

Description: A glass of wine while we wait for Yn.

Liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and other 8,483,939.

Ynofficial: I won’t be satisfied with the next 20 dresses either.

kellypiquet: They all look beautiful on you, darling. ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Thanks for your patience, hello Kelly.

user43: Wait, didn’t these two hate each other?

maxie_: I’m so confused now.

1_11: Maybe we got everything wrong.

mad_max: Impossible, she’s with Max.

cl16: And you invite his ex to pick out a wedding dress? ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Good observation.

user67: Yn, we can’t take this anymore.

user21: Stop messing with us.

Ynofficial: Why should I stop? I’m having fun.

francisca.cgomes: Your face doesn’t look happy at all.

Ynofficial: I still feel too much like a princess.

imrebecca: Off to the next boutique!

lilymhe: I’ll join as soon as I can. ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: I’ll wait for you.

Ynlife: You’re gorgeous, Yn.

Ynqueen_: It’s so strange seeing Yn so elegant.

Ynofficial: It feels weird to me too.

maxverstappen1: Can I suggest a tighter dress?

❤️ Like to author

charles_leclerc: Since when are you a fashion expert?

Ynofficial: Since when do you have the right to comment on my posts?

charles_leclerc: Your brother gave me his blessing.

user45: Poor Charles.

charles_: What do you mean, blessing?

Ynqueenofworld: New couple: Yn and Charles!

charles_leclerc

Description: Elegant men, baby.

Liked by maxverstappen1, Ynofficial, and other 6.862.261.

user32: Charles, no smoking!

Ynofficial: No one will want to kiss you after that.

charles_leclerc: I know someone who would.

Ynofficial: I think you’re wrong.

charlie: Are they flirting?

vroom: No, they’re not.

race_: Yn, what are you doing? You’re getting married!

04_81: Esteban’s proud face though.

lan_: I love the pink suit!

charles_: Can we talk about the pattern on Charles’s shirt?

georgerussell63: Men in tuxedos!

lewishamilton: Never seen them so elegant.

landonorris: Max’s casual photo is hilarious.

estebanocon: Looks like he’s tampering with Charles’s car brakes.

maxverstappen1: Who said I wasn’t?

Ynofficial: I’m surprised you didn’t crash since Charles was driving.

estebanocon: We came close.

carlossainz55: Charles can’t drive at normal speed.

charles_leclerc: You’re exaggerating.

user67: Max trying to get rid of the guy in love with his wife.

maxie_: Charles, back off!

ynqueen: Can’t believe they’re getting married soon!

max1__: Neither can I.

11_1_: Can’t wait!

f1star_: Guys, help! We’re not understanding anything Max is with Yn?

estebanocon: Max is laughing.

francisca.cgomes: So is Yn.

Ynofficial

Description: I didn’t think planning a wedding would be so difficult.

Liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and other 8,483,939.

francisca.cgomes: That’s why I brought you on vacation.

❤️ Like to author

lilymhe: You see Yn looking relaxed, but she’s super anxious inside.

Ynofficial: That’s not true!

kellypiquet: I found you at 2 PM looking for ways to decorate the restaurant.

carmenmmundt: Sweetie, there’s no shame in admitting you’re anxious about this. You’re with us now, away from Monaco and your fiancé, just enjoy it. ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: I hate to admit it, but you’re right, Carmen.

georgerussell63: Not fair, girls!

landonorris: We want to come too.

Ynofficial: Sorry, but no boys allowed.

carlossainz55: I don’t trust leaving all of you together alone.

charles_leclerc: Girls, I want Yn back home in one piece.

imrebecca: Not even a scratch! ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: I have my personal bodyguard.

maxverstappen1: Don’t drink too much.

Ynofficial: You’re not here, so I’ll do whatever I want.

yourbrother: You should listen to him for once.

Ynofficial: Don’t ruin our vacation!

user45: How cute, they all want to protect Yn.

charles_: You need some rest, girl.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Being a future bride is torture.

maxie_: Oops, Max is going to be mad!

Ynofficial: Leave him alone, he’ll calm down eventually.

Yn_max: I find it so funny that Kelly is just relaxing on a lounge chair.

Ynofficial: Not for long, though.

francisca.cgomes: Let’s say she had her share of fun.

op81: Tell us more!

lan_: We need to know!

kellypiquet: They threw a bottle of ice-cold wine at me.

Ynofficial: Sorry, but I won’t apologize!

user21: Oh my god!

f1world: Poor thing!

race: It must have been fun!

Ynofficial: It was!

user67: So, Yn and Kelly are friends, meaning either Max isn’t engaged to Yn, or they broke up and stayed friends.

f1star_: Guys, I think it’s the second option.

ynlife: No, I don’t think so. He wouldn’t have taken her to pick out the wedding dress.

user1: I think Max and Yn are just friends.

maxieeee___: No way, they’re together!

Ynqueen: Okay, but then it wouldn’t make sense for Kelly to be part of the wedding preparations.

11_1max: Maybe she just wants to be a good friend.

Ynofficial: Or maybe you’re all just way off track.

user56: What???

f1racelover: Are we wrong about everything?

Ynandmax: Yn, we can’t take it anymore!

charles_leclerc

Description: This girl wants me dead.

Liked by Ynofficial, carlossainz55, and other 636.261.737

f1lover: I can't believe it, even Charles with the soft launch.

race_: I hate you, Charles.

charles_: Tell us right now who this girl is.

charlos: Also tell this girl we need you alive.

cl16: Look how he looks at her.

user32: In my life, I want someone to look at me like that.

Ynofficial: I could look at you like that.

maxverstappen1: You're creepy.

charles_leclerc: Let her dream.

Ynofficial: You know I can read you, right?

user98: Free abs.

user87: Let's thank this woman for the photo.

Ynofficial: Girls, I know Charles is handsome, but a bit of restraint.

user12: Says the girl who's with Max Verstappen.

landonorris: Dude, did you let her walk all over you?

charles_leclerc: What can I do?

Ynofficial: She appreciates your obedience.

user1: YN KNOWS HER.

Ynofficial: Probably.

f1world: Can you tell us about her?

user99: Please, we want to know something about her.

Ynofficial: No

georgerussell63: Ask "her" why she didn't invite me.

carlossainz55: I wish I had seen everything live.

Ynofficial: I had to help him fasten her bra.

lovef1: You were there?

Ynofficial: Oops.

maxverstappen1: Yn, it's time for you to leave.

Ynofficial: Goodbye!

user54: What the...?

Tag list

@bookishnerd1132 @gigicisneros @lunamelona @raizelchrysanderoctavius @chocolatepoetryfun @imherenows-blog @iamkaku @scopeiguess

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #fanfiiction #f1 x reader #cl16 one shot #cl16 x you #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #charles x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #ferrari #f1 drivers #f1 drivers x reader #formula 1 driver x reader

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aestas---estas · 2 months ago

Text

Loving Hands

“I want you to choke me tonight.” Your voice rings out through the otherwise quiet room.

You and Simon had been having a comfortable evening in your shared flat. He was in between deployments at the moment and it had been great having him back home. To you, he was the sweetest man alive. You knew the broad strokes of what he did when he wasn't home, knew he killed people, probably tortured them too, but he never let that side take over or rear its head in your proximity — the worst of it, if you want to call it that, came when he got jealous and protective. And oh, how you loved his protectiveness.

Simon brought you flowers, paid for dinner on your dates, opened doors, helped you over puddles in the streets; he was the perfect gentleman. Simon was also a master at following orders. Hence the request you just threw his way as you were watching him wash dishes from your seat perched on the counter.

“Yeah?” Simon asked, an amused smile pulling at his lips as he looked at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Yeah,” you reiterate, plucking the plate he had just finished rinsing to dry it. “Not too hard, nothing that will leave marks, but I wanna feel that floaty feeling. I also want praise tonight; tell me I'm good, tell me how it feels, talk me through it.”

“Alright,” Simon answers with a nod, draining the water from the sink, shaking his hands to dry them, making droplets of water hit your arms and face.

You giggle at his antics, wiping the water away from your skin before pressing a soft kiss to the side of his face.

It had taken some getting used to, making your wants and needs in the bedroom known. Before Simon, most of your lovers had been selfish, and the few times you had voiced your kinks they had been shut down or executed so poorly you didn't want to voice them anymore. But Simon thrived with clear instructions. Praise me, degrade me, use me, worship me. So long as he knew what you wanted him to do, he was more than willing to make your wishes come true.

It’s a few hours later, with Simon spreading his legs wide on the sofa, you tucked close under his arm, the TV playing some rerun of an old show you’ve both seen more times than you can count, that he brings it up again.

“Now, love? Or later in bed?” His hand is slowly stroking up and down your arm, nothing overtly sexual but no less intimate nonetheless.

You hadn’t even thought about having sex in the livingroom, had assumed he’d take your instructions from before and utilize them once you’d both gotten ready for bed. But you can’t deny the way your stomach heats and flutters in that all too familiar way.

“I wouldn’t mind now,” you confess, feeling your face heat under Simon’s intense stare. He’s always had a staring problem, never letting you out of his sight more than necessary, and if you ever were to find yourself not right by his side, you could always feel his gaze on you, making you feel safe.

Simon hums his understanding, a sound that vibrates through his strong chest, before redirecting his eyes to the TV; his fingers still wandering up and down your arm softly. You know his focus is entirely on you, on your reactions, even if he is acting like it isn’t, and you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together for a brief moment of relief. You hadn’t been particularly horny, but just knowing that you’re going to get fucked just the way you want, has arousal already pooling in the juncture between your legs.

“You’re always so soft,” Simon murmurs, dropping his face to the top of your head, practically nuzzling you. You smile but say nothing, just lets him voice his thoughts. “Smell fucking amazing too. Can’t believe you’re all mine sometimes.”

You want to echo his sentiment, say that he’s all yours too, that you feel just as lucky as he does, but his hand has dropped from your arm to your thigh, squeezing and massaging your flesh in the way he knows you love.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He punctuates the statement with a kiss to the top of your head, his fingers slipping dangerously close to where you want them — where you need them. The way he pushes your legs apart isn’t rough, but it could never be described as gentle either, and when his hand dips below the waistband of your sweats you don’t suppress the moan of anticipation that leaves your throat. “Eager one, aren’t you?”

He’s teasing you, both with his words and the way his fingers run up and down your slit — inside your pants, but not yet inside your underwear. You don’t answer verbally, already melting against him, giving in to the pleasure you know is coming, only nodding lazily as your eyes slip shut.

You can hear the smirk in Simon’s voice as he speaks again. “That’s it, just let go and let me take care of you, love.” He presses down a little firmer, rubbing tight, slow circles around your clit and relishes in the way you tense your thighs in preparation; you want to grind yourself against his touch, he knows it, you know it, and it takes all your willpower to not give in.

“Please, Simon,” you whine, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, opening your neck up for him to plant open mouthed kisses on. Not one to let his love go unsatisfied, Simon leans down to trace your weak spots with his lips, making your pulse flutter and your breath hitch under his ministrations.

“Sound so pretty when you whine and beg,” he says against your skin and finally, finally, slips his fingers into your underwear. “Already so wet for me, love.” He drags the digits through your folds, gathering some of the slick to smear over your clit. His touch is gentle but precise, he knows just how you like it and is intent on making you enjoy yourself.

“Choke me,” you beg, a reminder about what you're expecting, about what started this whole thing in the first place.

“Patience,” Simon mumbles against the length of your throat, his fingers pressing down just enough to be uncomfortable before going back to the toe curling circles.

He plants more kisses along your heated skin, sucks gently at your pulse point in a way that drags an embarrassingly loud moan from your throat. The TV is still on, but whatever was playing on it got drowned out by the noises of Simon's fingers gliding through your wetness and your panting breaths.

It's Simon that groans when he finally slips two fingers inside. “Fuck you're wet.”

You nod lazily, clenching around his digits, already practically humping against his hand — you love it, love him, you need more.

“Only for you,” you manage to say and you can feel his lips quirk up in a smirk against your shoulder.

You beg for him to go faster, and ever the obedient soldier, Simon does; pulling moans and whimpers from you until you're nothing but a wet, panting mess on the couch.

“Doing so good for me, love,” he says before moving his free hand to wrap around your throat. It's not unexpected, but it catches you by surprise nonetheless; you had been so wrapped up in his pumping fingers, so focused on chasing the pleasure he was providing.

“Fuck,” Simon groans again, teeth scraping the shell of your ear. “You like that, huh? Go on, cum on my fingers, love.”

His palm presses against your clit, his fingers never slowing their constant in and out, and you hump needily against him. It's when he curls his digits just right to rub against that spongy spot inside and tightens his hand to constrict your airflow just enough to make your mind float, that you explode. White hot pleasure shoots through your limbs, your back arching, eyes squeezing shut as you rut against him and cum with his name spilling from your lips.

The hand around your throat eases and you have to take a moment to catch your breath. When you finally turn your head enough to blink up at him, Simon is cleaning your slick off his fingers, eyes closed as he indulges in the taste of you. The sight sends another bolt of excitement through you, making you squeeze your thighs together.

“More,” you say, already swinging your legs over his to straddle his thick thighs, hands searching for the hem of his shirt to pull it up and off.

Simon chuckles but lets you undress him. It takes some combined effort to remove his jeans without getting up from the couch, but you’re both hellbent on not losing the contact between your bodies.

“You want to be on top, love?” He asks, voice low and practically dripping with arousal. His words vibrate through his chest and it makes you grind down on the obvious bulge in his boxers.

You turn it over in your mind; the idea of being on top, of being the one more in control. But ultimately you shake your head in the negative. Tonight was a night for submission, for letting Simon play your body like an instrument, for letting go and giving in.

With strength that always seems to surprise you, he grabs hold of your thighs, rough fingers digging into plush flesh, and flips the two of you over on the couch.

“So fucking pretty like this,” Simon murmurs, placing soft, wet kisses on the length of your throat, nudging at the neckline of the shirt you wore — one of his, Riley stamped across the back. It made him crazy every time he saw you in it. “All worked up, so needy for more.”

“Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your voice enough with words, head already scrambled with pleasure and anticipation.

“So wet and ready for me.” He keeps sweet-talking you, breath fanning over your skin, hands wandering up and down your body until your clothes are laying in a pile on the floor and his hips are slotted between your spread legs.

“Simon,” you whine, fingers digging into his muscular back, hips lifting from the couch in search of friction.

And he has the gall to laugh, a deep chuckle that makes molten hot desire pool in your guts. You're just about ready to explode, to beg for him to just fuck you already, when he ruts against your sopping cunt, the head of his cock nudging against your clit.

“Aching for it, aren't you? Naughty girl,” he says, rubbing his cock up and your folds, coating himself in your wetness before slipping just the first inch inside. It's a stretch, it always is, but you crave more.

Simon mouths his way up your neck, finding your lips and kisses you dizzy. He swallows your moan as he sinks in, filling you up in a way that always makes you ache just slightly.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth, his hips unmoving as the two of you just bask in the feeling of being connected so intimately.

A few more kisses get exchanged, lazy and languid, all lips and tongues and deep moans, but before long you're aching for more.

“Move,” you demand between kisses, hands roaming the vastness of his broad back before coming to rest on his ass, pushing just enough to give him an incentive to follow orders.

He's slow about it, mean even, pulling out until just the head is lodged inside before pushing back in. And when you thrust up against him in an attempt to make him move faster and deeper, Simon grips your hips and keeps you pinned down against the couch.

“Just stay still for me. ‘M gonna make it so good for you, but you have to be a good girl and do as you're told,” he says and a whine passes your lips as you struggle against all the feelings bubbling up inside your chest. It's not just the physical pleasure, it's the emotional intimacy and just everything — you're so goddamn in love with this man it makes you want to explode.

Simon's next move is less of a roll of his hips and more of a snap, slamming his cock inside in a way that nearly punches all the air from your lungs. One of his hands moves from their position to keep you still to instead lock around your throat.

“This what you wanted?” He asks, a quick check in to make sure you're okay before anything threatens to spiral out of control. You had asked for choking, but he needed to make sure anyway.

“Yes,” you breathe, nodding as best as you can with the limited movement your head is given.

And that's all Simon needs to hear, fingers constricting over your throat as he fucks you right there on the couch; other hand still on your hip, making sure you lay still and let him take care of you.

“Feel so good ‘round me, love. So fucking good,” he groans, so low and deep it could nearly count as a growl, punctuating every word with a punching thrust.

Gasps and moans and the filthy, wet sounds of Simon's cock slamming into your cunt fills the room, and the pleasure is all you can focus on.

Your heels dig into the back of his thighs, your chest heaving and you swear you're probably drooling with how your mouth hangs open.

“Such a good fucking girl. Taking my cock so well.” Most of what Simon is mumbling gets lost in the grunts he makes, but just the sound of his voice gets you closer to the edge.

He keeps whispering sweet nothings and filthy words, but it's when he thumbs at your clit that's your undoing. Just a few quick, hard circles around that bundle of nerves has you careening towards ecstasy and your legs constrict around his middle as he fucks you through the orgasm.

“That's it,” Simon growls as your eyes roll to the back of your skull, the hand on your throat squeezing just enough to make you feel light headed. “Cum on my cock, pretty girl.”

Your climax ebbs and flows, a tidal wave of dizzying pleasure that the oxygen deprivation only seems to add to. A garbled noise leaves your throat and it's enough of a tell for Simon to ease his grip on you.

“‘M gonna cum. Where do you want it?” His hips are still snapping against yours, cock racing in and out of your weeping cunt and it takes a few moments as you catch your breath before you manage to register it's no longer rhythmic.

“Where you want it, love?” Simon repeats through gritted teeth, thighs flexing and relaxing with every thrust.

“Inside,” you manage to gasp, fingernails digging into his shoulders, red half moons denting his skin.

“Fuck, fuck!” He groans, spilling inside of you as your inner walls all but milk him dry.

He collapses on top of you, face buried between your neck and shoulder, breath heavy and hot on your skin as you both bask in the afterglow of your shared orgasms. His lips find your pulse point again, just a chaste kiss, but it still sends a shiver through your body.

“No,” you complain when he moves to get off you, cradling his head as you pet his hair.

“Not going far,” Simon promises, hissing from the overstimulation as he slips his softening cock out of your wet heat. “Gotta clean up.”

You make a whining noise of complaint but let him go nonetheless. You make yourself comfortable on the couch, following Simon’s movements with your ears as he disappears into the bathroom for a moment. You can hear the water of the faucet turn on, then off, and then he’s back by your side with a damp towel and a glass of water.

“Drink,” he says, shoving the glass into your hand before carefully swiping the towel between your legs to clean off any excess cum. He settles in beside you, tucks you in close to his side, presses a kiss to the top of your head and throws the blanket that had been draped over the couch’s back across both of you.

“You okay?” He asks. Always making sure. “Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, I’m perfect,” you answer, smiling up at him before craning your neck to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Me too.”

You don’t remember falling asleep, don’t remember making your way to the bedroom, but when you wake in the middle of the night there’s a soft mattress underneath you and a fluffy goose down duvet over your body with Simon’s arm slung across your middle and his warm chest pressed tightly against your back. He’s snoring softly behind you and the rhythmic beat of his heart lulls you back to sleep.

--- Masterlist

#simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #cod x reader #call of duty #call of duty fic #simon riley smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley fanfic #my writing #cw choking

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cressidagrey · 3 months ago

Text

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 2

Summary:

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings:

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Elain Bashing, low Self-Esteem, Cassian is kinda an idiot, mention of murder, mention of stabbing and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

“It’s open!” Eira called out as she heard the knock, her eyes flicking towards the door.

The shadows had just finished playing with her hair, their efforts resulting in an intricately braided updo that she had absolutely no idea how to replicate properly. She wondered who exactly had let the shadows play hairstylist for long enough that they had learned how to pin her hair in increasingly complicated updos, whenever she let them.

For some reason, Eira had the feeling that it amused them for some unknown reason. And they liked doing it. At night, when she couldn’t sleep, they kept playing with her hair, lulling her to sleep…when she was awake, they braided and rebraided it as often as they possibly could get away with it. And tonight, they had tried two different hairstyles, before finally deciding that this one was the one. Now, they were just finished scattering some blooming Asters through her hair, the purple-blue colour matching a dress that had suddenly been in her closet.

It was all…very much like a fairytale.

“Hey,” Feyre said as she entered her room. “Are you ready for dinner?”

"I am pretty sure the shadows keep stealing your dresses for me," Eira said drily, as she nodded. Feyre blinked twice, taking in the dress that the shadows had trussed Eira into. It was beautiful. A dark bluish purple, with spiderweb-thin lace that covered her arms and heavy silk that fell to the floor.

"That's not mine," Feyre answered with a laugh. "It's gorgeous, but definitely not mine.”

Eira stared at the dress, then to the shadows that quickly flitted through the open door away from her. She just sighed, while Feyre giggled. "They do seem to be surprisingly delighted at treating you as their lifesize doll," her sister quipped.

Eira just shrugged. "Well, at least they have good taste," she said with a grin making Feyre laugh aloud.

"Maybe they are just happy that they finally get somebody to dress up. Azriel wears his leathers nearly exclusively after all,” Feyre quipped.

Eira chuckled at Feyre’s words, thinking of Azriel’s usual attire. It was true, the shadowsinger rarely bothered with anything more formal than his leathers. She turned her attention back to the dress, running her fingers over the lacework of the sleeves. "It’s beautiful," she said quietly, admiring the fabric. "But it’s a bit much, isn't it?"

Feyre rolled her eyes at her words. "It’s not, Eira," she said, her tone slightly exasperated. "Besides, I think a certain shadowsinger may appreciate the effort," she added with a wink.

Eira's cheeks flamed. Maybe...maybe that was the reason why she hadn't protested the shadows and their insistence on dressing her up. Maybe that was why she hadn't protested that dress or the updo...or even the lipstick they had very carefully applied.

Eira had initially assumed that the shadows just enjoyed playing dress up, that they derived some sort of twisted amusement from seeing her in fancy dresses and elaborate hairstyles. But, now that Feyre had brought up a certain Shadowsinger... Perhaps the shadows had a more specific reason for their interest in dolling her up...

"Come on, I want to see if you manage to make Azriel's jaw hit the floor," Feyre quipped.

Eira’s heart skipped a beat at Feyre's words, heat rising to her cheeks. She knew it was silly, knew that she shouldn’t get her hopes up. But the thought of seeing Azriel’s reaction to her wearing that beautiful dress...it made her stomach flutter with something.

They had agreed to a courtship but she...she knew that for him the mating bond trumped anything.

That's why he even considered it in the first place, why he was willing to go along with it.

It was...It was something she liked to push out of her mind in a way because she would rather just...enjoy the possibility of having him. Something that she hadn't thought she ever would have. She never thought that she would have a chance.

For just a moment her mind replayed Elain’s vision…They had looked so happy in that vision…had looked so…in love.

So did it really matter why he wanted to court her? If they could build that? The image that had plagued her since the day of the vision flitted through her mind, the image of a daughter that they could perhaps someday have together.

And yet, something twisted in her gut, a pang of doubt creeping into her heart.

Wasn’t she only asking for heartache? Shouldn’t she not get her hopes up too high, shouldn’t she stop herself from building up too many fantasies in her head?

But she had never been good at telling her heart no. It had always been too hopeful...a bit foolish.

And the thought of Azriel seeing her...of seeing his reaction to her in this gorgeous dress, with her hair pinned up...it sent a thrill of excitement through her veins.

So she followed along with Feyre towards the dining room, her heart beating fast in her chest. Just a family dinner...just like they had had so many. Granted most of the time she had sat at the edges and had then rambled to Azriel about everything and nothing but...

This dinner would be the same as all the others, she told herself, just like every other one they had shared in the past...the only difference was that this time, she was dolled up in a fancy dress and an elaborate hairdo courtesy of the shadows.

And the fact that she had agreed to let him court her. The human way.

Well, in the way Azriel probably thought was human. She highly doubted that it would pass as courting for any gentleman, but she didn't care about that. She really didn’t care. She would sit through whatever he wanted if he had the chance of…the chance of having him.

It was so sweet that he was even willing to entertain her like that. He could have just as easily never even thought about it...could have just as easily refused to do anything human because he wasn't human. He was Illyrian...even when she sometimes wondered what Azriel would call himself if she asked. He seemed to have no love for Illyrian customs, much differently than either Rhys or Cassian.

Eira pondered that as they walked. She knew how much Azriel disliked the Illyrian culture, how much disdain he had for some of their archaic traditions, their backward ideologies.

And yet, he indulged her, willing to do it the human way even though he wasn’t human. It filled her heart with a strange sensation, a kind of warm affection.

It was...endearing, in a way. Sweet, in fact. That he would take the time and effort, simply to let her have a taste of that kind of romance.

But all of that was nothing against the way her stomach fluttered as she spied him in the dining room, deep in conversation with Cassian and Rhys...Wings carefully tucked behind his shoulders so that she couldn't see the full, massive span of them...couldn't see their majestic beauty.

And then his hazel eyes looked up and for just a moment it felt like it was just the two of them, everybody else forgotten.

Eira's breath caught in her throat when Azriel looked up and their eyes met.

For a brief moment, everything else around them disappeared, the world slipping away in a rush of colour and sound. It was like the world faded away, leaving just the two of them staring at each other.

She saw the surprise in his eyes, the flicker of shock before his gaze flicked over her figure, taking in her dress, and her hair.

Something flickered in his gaze, something she couldn’t quite place. His stare was intense, and heat rose in her cheeks as his eyes traced over the lace of her sleeves, the shape of her waist, the way the silk hugged her skin. It was...overwhelming, almost, having his attention so completely on her.

Overwhelming and addictive.

Eira's heart leapt in her chest, her cheeks flushing under his gaze. She was suddenly very aware of the way the fabric of her dress glided against her skin, how it clung to her figure.

"Damn," Cassian drawled. Cassian's voice jarred Eira out of the moment, breaking the strange spell that had seemed to fall over her and Azriel.

She jerked her head in Cassian's direction, finding him staring at her with an appreciative grin. "Someone's looking very nice tonight," Cassian drawled, his gaze roaming over her dressed figure.

Eira could feel her cheeks flushing even more under his gaze, the heat of them spreading across her chest and neck, embarrassment settling. She knew that dress had been too much, she shouldn’t have…

And then she heard that growl. Eira's eyes widened at the sound of Azriel's growl, the feral sound making her shiver. She watched, slightly stunned, as he shot Cassian a glare that should have set the other male on fire on the spot.

Cassian just smirked at his brother's reaction, his grin widening with smug satisfaction.

"What's wrong, Az," he drawled a hint of amusement in his voice. "Didn't like me looking at your lady?"

Azriel's eyes narrowed further, the muscles in his jaw tensing. He took a step forward, his wings flaring, as if to shield Eira from Cassian's gaze.

"Enough, you two," Rhys said with a sigh. "Cassian, if he kills you, that's on you. You know exactly how that mating bond feels to him right now."

Cassian just chuckled at Rhys' words, his eyes still sparkling with mirth. "Oh, I know," he drawled. Rhys just rolled his eyes at that, his expression exasperated.

Azriel's wings flared a little further, the movement enough to distract Eira's attention back to him. His eyes were still fixed on Cassian, a silent warning in his gaze.

Eira's heart skipped a beat as she took in the expression on his face, the protectiveness that had taken over his features. But she could also see the other, lurking underneath that protective surface. There was a hint of possessiveness, a hint of something much more primal and instinctual. The sight was enough to send another shiver down her spine.

"You do look very pretty, Eira," Cassian said, his voice growing serious and she couldn't help but stare at him. What? She hadn't expected the compliment, especially not after the way he had been riling Azriel only a moment before.

"Thanks," she responded after a moment, her voice quiet.

Nesta just snorted. "Wrong sister," she told her mate drily. "You are supposed to tell me how pretty I am," she pointed out, making Eira laugh.

"You are gorgeous," Eira told her oldest sister, making Nesta snort, her grey eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Did you make the dress?" Nesta asked as they found their seats, Azriel pulling out the chair for her without a word,

Eira smiled as she took her seat, Azriel's hand on the small of her back sending a strange sensation through her body. She watched as he sat down to her right, his wing slightly flared to block Cassian from her line of sight.

She looked back to Nesta, her cheeks still flushed from Azriel's touch.

"No," she answered, a smile on her lips. "The shadows…the shadows picked it out for me."

Nesta raised an eyebrow at her words, her gaze flickering from the dress to Azriel, who was still shooting warning glances in Cassian's direction.

Rhys and Feyre were also exchanging knowing looks, clearly amused by the shadow's involvement.

"They have good taste," Feyre quipped, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

Azriel's wing twitched, his glare deepening. "Don’t give them ideas," he said gruffly.

Feyre just laughed at that, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"Oh, I think they already have plenty of ideas, Az," she said with a smile. Azriel just grumbled under his breath, his eyes flickering to Eira for a moment before looking back to Feyre.

Eira couldn't help the flush that spread over her cheeks as Azriel's gaze flicked over her again. She could feel the heat of it like a brand, making her skin tingle and her heart flutter.

The shadows that had gotten her ready for the night whispered in her ear, their voices too soft for the others to hear.

He likes it.

Eira barely resisted the urge to shiver at the whisper, Azriel's gaze still on her, his eyes locked on her face. She could see the possessiveness in his gaze, the way he was looking at her as if she were something he wanted to keep all for himself. The shadows' voices purred again.

He thinks you're beautiful.

Eira's heart fluttered at the words, her stomach twisting with a strange sense of...giddiness. She knew it was silly, foolish even, but that possessive gleam in his eyes made her feel...wanted, desired. She couldn't help but smile as the shadows continued to whisper in her ear, their voices soft and sly.

He can't take his eyes off you.

"Would you stop it?" Azriel growled at that moment and she looked up to find the shadows having wrapped themselves around their master, the tendrils of darkness twining around his arms and shoulders.

The sight was both eerie and beautiful, the shadows moving like dark, writhing serpents over his skin. Azriel's eyes flared with irritation as he tried to bat the shadows away, but they seemed to only cling tighter, almost as if they were taunting him.

Rhys and Feyre were watching the scene with amused expressions, clearly enjoying Azriel’s frustration. They really did like to rile him up, it seemed.

Cassian, on the other hand, was grinning like a fool, clearly enjoying the display.

"You just can't keep the shadows in check, can you, shadowsinger?" Cassian drawled, a smirk on his lips. Azriel just growled in response, his eyes narrowing as he shot a glare at the other male across the table. Rhys chuckled at the scene, clearly finding the whole thing amusing.

"It seems like they have a mind of their own," he mused, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Feyre just snorted, her lips curving into a smirk as she watched the shadows continue their dance around Azriel. Eira couldn't help but laugh as well, the sight of the shadows wrapping around Azriel's form while he sat there looking annoyed was truly hilarious.

The shadows were clearly enjoying themselves, their tendrils moving almost playfully over his broad shoulders and strong arms. Eira watched as Azriel seemed to give in to the shadows' antics, his shoulders relaxing and his expression softening. The shadows still coiled around his arms like snakes, the tendrils of darkness wrapping around his wrists and up his forearms.

He seemed resigned now, his eyes flickering to her for a moment before looking back to the shadows.

"You look beautiful, Eira. The colour suits you," he said quietly, his cheeks reddening.

She could have sworn her heart skipped a beat at his words, a rush of warmth spreading through her chest at Azriel's words. She could feel her cheeks flushing even more as he complimented her, her heart fluttering against her ribs.

He liked it?

Azriel let out a huff of irritation as one of the shadows extended a tendril to poke his cheek, his lips pressing into a frown.

He reached up a hand to brush the shadow away, but it just twined around his fingers instead.

The shadow seemed almost...playful, the way it wove between his fingers, the touch surprisingly gentle. "Stop it," Azriel murmured under his breath, his eyes narrowing at the shadow.

But the shadow just continued to wind itself around his fingers, almost like a cat begging for attention. Eira couldn't help but grin at the sight, the shadow's antics adorable, even if they were clearly bothering Azriel.

"I don't think they are going to stop until I give in," Azriel finally said with a sigh. Eira chuckled as Azriel finally spoke up, the shadows clearly intent on getting his attention. "I was going to wait until after dessert," Azriel said quietly, "But they seem to have a mind on their own...so…” he hesitated for a moment. “I apologise. I learned that I did it wrong."

She stared at him, her heart plummeting.

That he did what wrong? Why was he apologising to her? What was… "What did you do wrong?" Eira asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Azriel's cheeks flushed again as he looked at her, the shadows still clinging to his fingers. He took a deep breath before speaking, his eyes never leaving hers. He took a deep breath before speaking, his eyes never leaving hers. "I...I should have given you a gift when I made my first courting overture," he said quietly, his voice gruff with embarrassment. “I am sorry. While I did not know, that is not an excuse for my behaviour.”

Eira's heart skipped a beat at his words, her eyes widening. She hadn’t expected him to give her a gift, let alone bring it up now.

"You don't need to give me a gift," she protested immediately.

Yes, it was true that...that should have been something that happened. But then, if she was still the daughter of a wealthy merchant, she probably would have met her future husband at a ball and there would have been weeks of flowers and pralines before he asked her to court...and a courtship already was fully expected as a prelude to a formal engagement. By the time a man would have asked her to court, he should have already made his mind up if she was the woman he intended to marry.

Eira's mind flickered to the memory of Elain's courtship with Grayson, the wealthy heir sending her gifts for weeks before officially courting her. And the number of gifts and the extravagance increased tenfold when he requested her hand.

She had never expected Azriel to do anything of that sort.

But the fact that Azriel seemed ashamed... that the shadows were so insistent that he followed the proper courting practices...it made something in her chest warm, the feeling almost like a fuzzy, pleasant burn.

She looked up at him, a small smile on her lips. "You didn’t have to get me a gift," she repeated, her voice soft.

Azriel just shook his head, a stubborn frown on his face. “I did,” he said firmly, his eyes locked on hers. “It's part of the tradition, part of your culture.”

Eira felt her heart skip a beat at Azriel's words, his firm tone making something flutter in her stomach. He was taking this seriously, that much was clear. She could see the determination in his eyes, the shadows still coiled around his fingers as if to remind him of his task.

"Alright," she said softly, her gaze locked with his. "You...you really want to follow proper courtship etiquette?" She asked, her voice almost tentative.

"He got like 10 books on it," Cassian said with a snort.

Eira's eyes widened as she heard Cassian's comment, her gaze shifting to him for a moment before returning to Azriel.

"You...you researched this?" She asked, her voice tinged with surprise.

Azriel just grumbled under his breath, his cheeks reddening even more. "The shadows found me books in the Human Lands.," he muttered, his eyes flickering to the tendrils of darkness still wrapped around his fingers.

But it was Nesta's laugh, a high tinkling sound, her older sister winking at her. "Bring out the goods, Az. I want to know what you ended up choosing."

Eira's heart fluttered in her chest as Nesta spoke, her words sending a strange mixture of anticipation and...giddiness through her.

Eira looked to Azriel, whose cheeks continued to redden under the attention, his wings shifting behind him. The shadows around his fingers seemed almost...encouraging, the tendrils coiling and uncoiling like they were urging him to hurry.

“Let me get it.” Eira's heart seemed to skip a beat as Azriel finally spoke, his voice deep and gruff. He extricated his fingers from the shadow's grasp, the tendrils retracting like they had only been waiting for that particular permission.

Azriel stood from the table, pushing his chair back, and Eira found herself holding her breath.

Azriel crossed the dining room in a few quick strides, his wings flared out behind him as if in excitement. Eira's eyes followed him, her heart still fluttering in her chest.

The other occupants of the room remained silent, their eyes following the shadowsinger as he made his way into the next room.

A moment later, he reappeared, carrying...something.

A harp.

Eira's eyes widened as she saw the harp in Azriel's hands, her heart skipping another beat in her chest.

It was...beautiful, the strings gleaming in the light from the candelabras. The wood was polished to a fine shine, each curve and line of detail flawless.

She could just stare at it.

The sight of it brought back memories from her childhood when she had started learning the harp. When she had dreamed of playing for a court, of learning every single song there was...when she had...She had one then...a gift from her father...a beautiful gilded one, made out of light wood. It had been smaller than that one, with fewer strings than the 47 she expected this one to possess. This was the kind of harp professional used in an orchestra setting...the kind of harp she had always dreamed of.

Her harp had been sold off along the rest of their possession to keep their money troubles at bay back in the day...and somehow it had been...it had been the worst loss. Somehow the house and her clothing and any jewellery...that hadn't mattered to her as much as the harp.

"Nesta said you used to play," Azriel said quietly, his voice unsure, as he placed it in front other, carefully. Eira's eyes snapped up to meet Azriel's, her heart still fluttering in her chest.

She took in the expression on his face, the uncertainty and the shyness that had replaced his usual confidence. She could see the...the hope in his eyes, mixed with a hint of anxiety as he waited for her response. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she looked at him.

"I...I used to," she finally replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her fingers itched to reach out and take the harp from him, to touch the strings. To hold that instrument in her hands and...to run her fingers over the smooth wood, to feel the coolness of the strings as she plucked them.

The memory of how they felt under her touch, the sound they made when she had been younger and could still play...the memories that rushed through her mind made her heart beat faster in her chest.

"I stopped after...after our father lost our wealth," she continued, her voice softer now. "We had to sell most of our possessions, and...well, harps aren't exactly the most practical thing to keep in your house when you're struggling to buy food."

But now...now Azriel was holding this harp out to her. Holding this most wonderful, most beautiful thing...this thing she had lost, this thing she never thought she would hold again.

Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at the harp, her mouth going dry. "You-" Eira's words caught in her throat as she met Azriel's gaze again, the tears in her eyes making his face blurry. "You...you got this for me?" She managed to whisper out.

"It's not a human one," he warned her quietly. "You would probably break it without meaning to...it wouldn't withstand your strength. This ones is fae-made. Made out of Ebony. Your magic will interact with the instrument and...the sound should be even more beautiful."

"It's beautiful," she repeated, her voice soft with emotion.

She reached out an unsteady hand to brush the harp, her fingers tracing over the smooth ebony wood. She could feel the hum of magic under her fingertips, the power contained in the instrument, the magic that was just waiting to be released.

She looked up at Azriel, tears still shimmering in her eyes. "You-" her voice broke for a second before she tried again. "You did all this...this is your courting gift?"

Azriel's cheeks reddened even more at her question, the tips of his ears turning pink. He nodded once, his eyes fixed on her face, his expression almost hopeful. "Yes," he said quietly. "It is."

Eira's heart skipped another beat, the tears pooling in her eyes finally spilling over.

She looked back down at the harp, her fingers still tracing over the smooth wood, her lips trembling. This was...this was the most beautiful gift she had ever received, it was...it was more than she had ever expected, more than she had ever hoped for.

And Azriel had gone through all that trouble, researched her culture and the proper courtship rituals, had found this harp...for her.

She took a trembling breath, desperately trying to contain the swell of emotions in her chest, the tears now falling down her cheeks.

She looked back up at Azriel, meeting his gaze once again, her heart thudding loudly in her chest.

She opened her mouth to speak, to try and say something, a thank you, a...a declaration, anything. But the words stuck in her throat.

Azriel just stood there, watching as she tried to speak, the expression on his face unreadable. The worry in his eyes was unmistakable, as if he wasn't sure how she would react.

The room was quiet, the other occupants of the room watching the scene with rapt attention. Even the shadows seemed unusually still, their usual playfulness and mischief replaced by a strange kind of tension.

Eira took another shuddering breath, trying to collect herself. She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, her heart still hammering in her chest.

She looked at the harp again, taking in every detail of the instrument. The smooth wood, the perfectly tuned strings, the magic contained within. The sheer...beauty of it, the thoughtfulness and care that had gone into choosing it.

It was a beautiful harp. A truly perfect gift.

"It's...it's perfect," she finally managed to whisper, her voice raw with emotion.

Azriel's shoulders relaxed slightly, the worry in his eyes diminishing a little. "You...you like it, then?" He asked quietly, his voice tense with anxiety.

"Like it?" Eira repeated, her voice almost indignant. "Like it? I...Azriel, it's the most beautiful, most perfect gift I've ever received."

She rose, her knees shaky, taking a step forward, the tears still trickling down her cheeks.

"It...it's perfect," she repeated, her voice cracking once again. "And you...you learned about the proper courtship rituals, you...you researched my culture," she continued, her voice soft and shaky. "You did all this...for me."

Eira took another step forward. She took another shuddering breath, her heart beating harder and hard in her chest.

"No one...no one has ever done that before," she whispered, her voice breaking again. "No one has ever put so much thought, so much effort into a gift for me."

Azriel shifted awkwardly, looking as if he were torn between wanting to reach out to her and not knowing if it was the right thing to do.

"You...you're worth it," he finally said, his voice quiet and gruff. "You're...you're worth all the research, the effort...the trouble. You're worth it, Eira."

Eira's heart clenched in her chest at his words, her breath catching in her throat.

No one had ever spoken to her like that, ever made her feel as if they were so certain of her worth.

She shouldn't be doing this. It wasn't her place to be this forward, wasn't...but still she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss against his cheek, breathing in cedars and mist and Azriel and then pulled back. "Thank you," she whispered."

Azriel's eyes widened in surprise, his cheeks reddening furiously as she kissed his cheek.

He seemed completely taken aback, his wings fluttering slightly in shock. His entire body tensed, as if he suddenly didn't know what to do with himself.

And then, as a moment later, a small, shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You're welcome," he replied, his voice gravelly and rough.

"So are you gonna play something?" Cassian asked, breaking the silence.

Eira's cheeks flamed bright red as she remembered they weren't alone. She had...she had forgotten the others were there, had allowed herself to get lost in the moment, in the emotions and the...the sheer perfection of Azriel's gift.

She pulled back slightly and looked at Cassian's cheeky smile as he teased.

"Not unless you want to go deaf by my out of practice screeching," she said drily. "I'll need to practice before my playing is anywhere near fit for public consumption."

"Oh, come on," Cassian said with a pout. "It can't possibly be that bad. Let us have a taste of the music you're capable of making."

Nesta smacked his arm with a disapproving glare, but the slight upward curl of her lips made him just grin wider.

"I promise you, it really is that bad," Eira replied, her heart still hammering in her chest. "Trust me, you'll be much happier not having to listen to how horribly rusted my playing has become."

Cassian opened his mouth to response but Nesta's elbow ended in his ribs. "Whenever you are ready," her older sister told her gently.

*****

"You're distracted," Rhys's voice cut through his thoughts, making him snap back to the present. He looked up to see his brother watching him with a smirk and an arched eyebrow.

Azriel huffed a sigh, leaning back in his chair and rubbing a hand over his face.

Of course Rhys would immediately notice. The High Lord had always had an annoyingly sharp eye for his inner circle.

He couldn't help himself though as he stared out of the window. Feyre and Nyx were down in the garden...and he had watched how Eira had joined them a few minutes ago, settling herself comfortably under one of the trees, watching her sister and nephew play.

"I'm not distracted, I'm..." he started to protest, but he knew it was useless. He was distracted, his thoughts had been all over the place the past day, revolving almost entirely around a certain Archeron Sister.

Azriel's mind was still filled with images of the previous night, of the memory of Eira's reaction to the gift he had given.

She had been...he had never seen her so emotional before, so overwhelmed, and...he had caused it. He had made her feel that way.

His mind replayed the memories over and over again, the way she had looked at him, with such wonder and gratitude, how she had...how she had kissed his cheek.

Especially after she had...pressed a kiss to his cheek.

After she had seemed so pleased by his courting gift.

A small, satisfied smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he thought back to that moment, the way she had looked holding the harp, the expression on her face when she had realised what he had done.

His heart fluttered in his chest as he remembered how she had looked at him, how she had seemed to forget they weren't alone for a moment, had pressed her lips against his cheek, so soft, so warm, and had whispered her thanks against his skin.

"You're staring."

Rhys' voice broke through his thoughts, yanking him back to reality and away from the memory of her lips on his cheek, her warmth, her scent.

Azriel realised his gaze was fixed on the window, on Eira outside with Feyre and Nyx.

"I also always have this dreamy expression on my face when I think about Eris Vanserra and the Autumn Court," Cassian said sarcastically.

"Shut up," Azriel said irritably, though with no small amount of truth in his words.

He knew he probably had that 'dreamy' look right now. That hopelessly in love, pining look that Cassian teased him about.

"You are as subtle as a bat," Rhys teased, a smile on his face. "We can all tell she's got you wrapped around her little finger."

Another irritated huff left Azriel, but he didn’t deny it. He was wrapped around her little finger. There was no denying that.

"Though your shadows are worse," Cassian quipped.

"My shadows are not worse," he protested, but his shadows curled and coiled around his fingers, as if in silent agreement with Cassian.

"They’ve been pining for her too," Rhys chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Have you noticed how often they’re clinging to her?"

"Or how they pick out dresses for her...and braid her hair?" Cassian said with some amusement. “I didn’t even know they could do that!”

"And how they preen whenever she touches them," Rhys added, his voice still full of laughter. "They’re as whipped as you are, brother. If not more."

Azriel huffed another irritated sigh, but he didn’t protest. It was true. His shadows practically worshipped the ground Eira walked on. They clung to her every chance they got, they preened whenever she so much as looked at them. He had absolutely no control over them when they were around her.

"Were where Amren and Mor yesterday?" he asked suddenly instead, trying to change the topic.

"Well, Amren still thinks she has done nothing wrong," Rhys finally said with a sigh. "And Mor...that's...another thing entirely."

Azriel groaned.

He could imagine what was going on. Amren was stubbornly refusing to apologise for acting the way she had towards Eira, and Mor...he didn't even want to think about it.

"Amren will come around," Rhys assured him. "It will just take some time, some convincing. She's the most stubborn person I know. And Mor..." his expression darkened. "Mor is being difficult."

Azriel huffed another sigh, running a hand over his face.

Of course Mor was being difficult. When was she ever not difficult? He could guess how the conversation had gone between Rhys and her. She probably saw nothing wrong with how she had acted towards Eira either.

"She's jealous," Rhys said with a sigh. Azriel could just stare at him gobsmacked. Rhys shrugged. "She is jealous, Azriel. She's jealous you've found someone, that you're going to court someone else. And she's decided to take it out on Eira."

"That's a damn shitty reason to be this resentful towards someone," Cassian chimed in, leaning back in his chair with a huff. "Especially when we all know that she was never interested in Azriel in the first place."

"Yeah, well, you aren't available to her anymore either," Rhys said drily. "Mor will need some time to...wrap her head around it."

Cassian just grunted, his expression darkening for a moment. It was true. He no longer was available, no longer an option for her. Not that he had ever truly been an option. It had never been anything more than...passing flings.

"Either way, she'll need to stop behaving like this towards Eira," Azriel growled, the thought making his blood boil. "Just because she is upset with me, doesn't mean she gets to take it out on someone innocent."

"That one," Rhys said, raising an eyebrow and pointing towards Eira through the window. She was still outside, now sitting against a tree. Nyx was curled up against her, asleep. Feyre was sitting next to her, drawing something, a lazy, happy smile on her face. Azriel's chest tightened at the sight. “She is more resilient than you think.”

Azriel swallowed past the lump in his throat as he stared at her through the window.

Rhys was right. She was strong. She was so strong. Stronger than she gave herself credit for, even. And her resilience was something he had…always been in awe off. How whatever happened, Eira just seemed to take it in stride, adjusting.

"I know she is," he said, his voice thick with emotion."But she shouldn’t need to be. I just..." he continued, his gaze still fixed on her through the window. She was laughing about something Feyre had said, her head thrown back, her face lit up with happiness. “I just want to protect her. I want to wrap her up and shield her from everything bad in this world and just…keep her safe.”

"You know you can't do that, right?" Cassian’s voice was quiet, sincere.

Azriel knew he was right. He knew that. He knew he couldn’t protect her from the world, from everything bad in it. That she wouldn’t even want him protecting her all the time.

He knew all that, but still...still the thought of something bad happening to her, still the idea of being unable to protect her…it made his heart ache.

"Welcome to the mating bond," Rhys quipped weakly.

Azriel huffed another irritated sigh.

He knew exactly what he was dealing with. He knew that this...that feeling the need to protect her, to keep her safe at all costs, to wrap her up and shield her from the world...it all came down to the bond, to the instinct.

But that didn’t mean he had to like it. That didn’t mean he had to be content with his hands being tied, with not being able to have control.

It was driving him nuts.

"It gets easier," Cassian promised him. "Just keep in mind, she can hit anybody with lightning."

Yes. If she could control it.

Which she couldn’t.

Neither of them had yet broached the topic of training her power with her. Not even to…hone it into a weapon, but only to make sure that Eira didn’t electrocute any innocent bystanders. The problem was only that if they told her that…she would become deathly afraid of her own powers, which would make training them even more difficult.

And then there was…another matter. "She cries herself to sleep about 4 males that she killed," Azriel said quietly. "I had killed more often than that before I even reached the Blood Rite."

"That’s not the same," Cassian disagreed quietly. "We both know it’s not. You and I are warriors. It’s what we’re supposed to do. Eira is not a fighter. She’s not a warrior. The deaths she caused weigh differently on her, and you know that."

Azriel sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

Cassian was right, of course. The deaths Eira had taken on her conscience…he knew they were different from his or Cassian’s. His own hands were stained a dark red, had been for centuries. They were both warriors, soldiers. They had been conditioned to accept death, to expect and embrace violence. It came with the job. It wasn’t the same for her.

And it worried him.

"How could the cauldron ever think that I..."

"The Cauldron has its own reasons," Rhys interrupted, his voice softer now. "We don't always understand its decisions, but it knows what it's doing."

Another sigh left Azriel.

He knew that. He knew the Cauldron was always right, that it knew what it was doing, even if its ways were not always clear. But it didn’t change the fact that he felt unworthy. He felt unworthy of the gift the Cauldron had offered, of a mate at all. Of Eira in particular.

"I have hundreds of years of blood on my hands," he said, his voice low. "How could the Cauldron pick me for her? How could it think that I am worthy to be her mate?"

“Because you are worthy,” Rhys said softly, his voice almost tender. “More than you give yourself credit for. And because the Cauldron knows things about people that even they themselves don’t know.”

Azriel couldn’t help but scoff softly.

There was no way he was worthy of her. Not in a million years. And it didn’t matter if the Cauldron thought so.

But still, his chest ached as he looked at her, at the smile on her face as she talked with Feyre…Nyx still sleeping in her arms.

Rhys and Cassian were right. He was already wrapped around her little finger.

"You should stay for lunch."

Azriel groaned. He really wanted to, wanted nothing more than to stay for lunch and watch her for just a while longer.

But he couldn’t. The day was already half over, he had work to do.

"I can’t," he told Rhys, the words almost painful to get out of his throat. "I’ve got paperwork to look over, reports to submit, meetings to attend, patrol to"

"Yes yes, we know your schedule," Cassian cut him off with a snort. "And we know that you work yourself to an early grave. You can afford to stay for one more hour or so and have lunch with us. Have lunch with your mate. Aren't you supposed to spend time with her while there are people there to chaperone you?" Cassian wondered. "Isn't that what your books told you?"

Azriel shot him a glare. Cassian only grinned back innocently.

He wasn’t wrong, of course, he was absolutely right.

That was what the courtship was all about, right? He was supposed to show her that he was husband material. That he could provide for her and for any eventual future children.

Azriel shot another look towards the garden, where Eira was still talking with Feyre.

Rhys and Cassian knew they were right, knew that they had him in a corner. He wanted to stay. He wanted nothing more than to spend another hour here, with her.

"Just for that, you and Nesta can accompany us to the symphony this weekend," Azriel said drily. "I got tickets."

Cassian sputtered. Rhys snickered.

"You manipulative bastard," Cassian muttered. "I hate you. You know I hate the symphony."

"Well, as you said, I need to have people around to chaperone me," Azriel pointed out, his voice laced with false sweetness. "I thought maybe you and Nesta would enjoy the occasion." Azriel knew that Nesta would enjoy it. So only because of that Cassian would go along with it.

"I'll get my revenge, don't you worry," his brother hissed.

"I’m looking forward to it," Azriel deadpanned, a smirk tugging at his lips. It widened when he saw Cassian’s enraged expression.

"You’re the absolute worst," Cassian grumbled.

Azriel couldn’t repress a snort, even as Rhys let out an amused huff.

"You’ll survive," he assured Cassian. "...I think.”

"I’m not so sure," Cassian said darkly. "I think I might just die of boredom."

"Well, Nesta is delighted," Azriel said brightly. "I already asked her this morning."

The betrayed look on Cassian’s face was almost comical.

“You bastard,” he muttered. "You’ve used my mate against me. That’s the lowest blow you’ve ever dealt.”

Azriel only grinned back at him, not sorry in the least. "It’s not my fault you’re whipped, brother,” he turned Cassian’s words back on him.

“You should winnow right into the box,” Rhys said quietly. Azriel looked up surprised.

“Eira didn’t do so well with doing outside,” Rhys explained quietly. “It’s getting better…slowly. But it scares her.”

“We would be with her,” Cassian protested. “Nothing would happen.”

“Her brain may understand that, but her heart doesn’t,” Rhys said with a sigh. “It happened outside, so…”

He didn’t end that thought, but he didn’t need to. Azriel understood.

Lunch was served inside, and Eira seemed to flag slightly. An afternoon nap seemed to be in her future. The knife wound had healed well enough but she didn't seem to be up to her usual levels of ability yet.

Still, she smiled as soon as she saw him, something that made his heart painfully constrict. Mate, his shadows sang happily. Her smile made his heart ache, made him want to scoop her up in his embrace and just hold her.

Her face was paler than usual. Clearly, the wound was still affecting her. But the smile on her face, the happiness that lit up her expression as she saw him almost drove his worries away.

Almost.

He took the seat next to her, his shadows curling around her almost immediately, as if as desperate for the contact as he was.

She shot him an amused look, but her hand reached out to greet his shadows, scratching at their invisible heads almost instinctively.

Azriel could hardly keep himself from shuddering at the sight of her fingers running through his shadows. It was almost enough to drive him crazy with the primal, animalistic urges in the back of his head. The urges that urged him to pull her into his lap right there and then, bury his face in the crook of her neck and just hold her. Claim her. Mate.

He shoved them all down as firmly as he could, focusing on his breathing for a moment.

He was painfully aware of how closely Cassian was watching him, a smirk on his face. And based on the way Rhys was watching him, he probably wasn’t doing a very good job hiding his reaction to how she touched his shadows.

Damn it.

Luckily, Eira didn’t seem to realise the effect her actions had on him.

She was still staring at his shadows as if trying to work out how they worked. They clearly loved her. They purred and twirled around her, preening at the attention.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her, desperate for something, anything...to just hear her voice.

She looked up from his shadows to stare at him, her eyes a soft, gentle grey.

"I’m fine," she assured him, her voice so soft it sent a shiver down his spine. "I’ve just been so sleepy all day."

"The wound is still affecting you," he said, his voice low, his gaze studying her face carefully, taking in the paleness and the hint of dark circles under her eyes. "You need to rest." Maybe the symphony wasn't the best idea after all.

Of course, he wanted to spend more time with her. He always did.

But the knife was clearly still affecting her, making her tired, making her sleep longer than usual. The last thing he wanted was to have her exhaust herself with an evening out.

"Well, I hope you are up for an evening out later this week because Azriel got tickets for the symphony," Cassian said, between shovelling food into his mouth. Azriel glared at him.

"...the symphony?" Eira echoed, her gaze switching to him.

"The symphony," Azriel confirmed in a low mutter, shooting Cassian another glare.

He hadn't been intending to spring that on her. He had hoped to ask her a little more subtly She was staring at him, her eyes wide, a little confused, as if she couldn’t quite work out why he had gotten them tickets.

"Nesta and Cassian would accompany us," Azriel said quietly. "If you are up to it. If you aren't..." he trailed off.

Eira seemed to relax slightly at the mention of Nesta and Cassian accompanying them as if the prospect of it not being just her and him but a group event made her feel better. It made some of the tension in his chest ease, knowing that the prospect of going to the evening out didn’t make her anxious.

She smiled faintly, her eyes still a little confused.

"I would love to.".

The tension in Azriel’s chest eased further.

For a moment, he had almost feared she would turn down the offer. He had half expected a protest from her, a reason as to why she really wasn’t feeling well enough to go out. But she hadn’t. She had agreed. She wanted this.

His shadows chittered happily at the thought, twisting around her fingers.

His eyes followed their movements as if drawn to the sight of Eira’s hand touching his shadows.

They were practically writhing around her, as if drinking up the attention, practically begging for more.

Part of him wanted to pull her into his lap right there and then, just to hold her as she continued to pet his shadows.

He suppressed the urge though, forcing himself to look away as Rhys shot him a knowing smirk. He just knew Cassian was silently snickering at him on the other side of the table. Damnit.

He could feel Cassian’s curious gaze on him and knew that his brother had to be noticing how his shadows were acting. They were never so openly affectionate with anyone, except now with Eira.

Azriel couldn’t decide whether he hated his shadows for it or was grateful for them. Hated them for making it so obvious that he himself desired nothing more than to wrap her up in his embrace and hold her close. Or whether he was grateful for them, for getting the little bouts of contact he so desperately craved.

Part of him was tempted to command them to stop, to get them to cool it down so that Cassian and Rhys didn’t notice just how affectionate his shadows were being.

But he also knew how much they loved this, how much they loved her. He could see it in the way they twisted around her hands, in the way they seemed to curl into her touch, as if desperate for more contact.

The rational part of him was screaming that Cassian and Rhys were noticing, that they would have to be blind not to notice it.

The less rational part of him was silently preening, utterly satisfied that not only his shadows but everyone knew that she was his.

But then his brain finally kicked in and he muttered a soft command for them to behave.

To his relief, they obeyed, though not before coiling around her hand one more time. Azriel was half surprised that they didn’t attempt to actually lick her.

He could see Rhys’s lips twitching into a smirk, clearly having heard the command, and based on the grin on Cassian’s face he had also noticed the interaction.

His two brothers were clearly having a field day, noticing every little reaction he had to Eira.

Azriel didn’t care though. Right now, all he cared about was the pleased little smile on Eira’s face.

She seemed blissfully unaware of his shadows acting as they had, completely oblivious to the fact that they were practically worshipping her every move.

It was a thought that both delighted and concerned him.

Delighted, because she still clearly didn’t even know how much his shadows adored her. She had no idea the degree of their devotion to her.

But it also concerned him. It worried him, that she was completely unaware of his shadows worshipping at her feet. Worried him because she had no idea what lengths they would go for her…what lengths he would go for her.

But the only person he could give the fault for that…it was himself.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #Azriel x Archeron!Reader #the prophecy #Looked to the sky

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luvkuvi · 1 year ago

Text

What's so good about him?!

Scaramouche X reader ☆ Smau

synopsis — Your ex boyfriend kuni is in a band called 5wirl and they're pretty well known considering him and his bandmates are still in college but you still hated his guts on how he ended things with you back then in highschool the day before graduation. So whats the best course of action in this situation? make a hate account of him of course.

Genre — SMAU, Gn! reader, 5wirl au, modern college au, ex to lovers, enemies to lovers-ish(its more of the reader disliking scara) slowburn,fluff,crack,angst, cyber bullying, lots of kys + kms jokes and just typical stan twitter behavior. pictures used for the reader isnt meant to represent the reader!! its more of using the pose !!

💌 — first smau!! might be ooc in some and may be cringe due to most of the chapters early on is just basically daily stan twitter but hope you enjoy!! slow and inconsistent updates. Also timestamps dont matter unless stated otherwise

Status — started: 06/15/23 (taglist open)

Chapters:

babygirls + childe ☆ 5wirl

Teaser !

Act one ☆

01 – chill out

02 – dick riders

03 – unfold

04 – apologies

05 – better than him

06 – diversion

07 – diversion successful

08 – why now

09 – no

10 – please

11 – weird

12 – time

Act two ★

13 – curiosity

14 – no wonder

15 – catching up ☆

16 – stupid ☆

17 – coward

18 – selfish

19 – looking at you

20 – all too well

21 – change of mind

22 – interview

23 – quitting

24 – best friends

25 – suspicious

26 – surprise

27 – connecting the dots

28 – ignorance is bliss

Act three ☆

29 – trending

30 – overeacting

31 – well shit

32 – what

33 – hoes mad

34 – invisible string

35 – reunion

36 – oopsie

36.5 – flashback

37 – final show

Bonus ★

bonus – Story of us

Taglist!(closed): @sakiimeo @sagegreenthinks @evsolostheuniverse @ozzierenato @mechanicalbeat1 @bananasquash @admiringfish @misomiis @wolfe02 @msameikanevaeh @yukiipc @magica-ren @r0ttenhearts @vvyeislazzy @yuumaofc @klanxii @darthvada @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @yoyo-yui @deluluangel @katsumikumo @thenightsflower @lazy-sanns @sukunasrealgf @4thnocturne @danhenglovebot @sketcheeee @fumichannorakuen @featuredtofu @mine-lu @karma-gisa @amyena @onmywaytoteyvat @fujimoribaby @eliqusgenma @buubbbbly @reekapeeka @elernity @323jelly @kunikissr @miko1ly @feverish-dove @zuunotsane @pomeiu @yxcade @kascar-chronicle @supercoolusernameomg @otomegame-oneshots @cookieofwishes @swivy123(bold usernames means i couldn't tag you :<) 1/2

#Whats so good about him?!#Scaramouche #kunikuzushi #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #scaramouche smau #genshin #genshin impact #genshin smau #genshin impact smau #kunikuzushi smau #genshin scaramouche

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zer0pm · 2 years ago

Text

Imagine both Leon and Luis offering you their jackets when you start shivering.

“You cold?”

“A little bit, but nothing I can’t handle.”

You say this with your teeth chattering and it was clear on Leon’s unamused face that he wasn’t buying it. The blonde sighs, hiding a slight smirk before his lips return to his characteristic frown.

“Here,” he says, shrugging out of his thick, fur-lined jacket. In doing so, the strong definition of muscles on his arms and chest came into full display and you couldn’t help but note every sculpted line. Those years of secret government training did wonders for his physique and the tight navy shirt left little to the imagination. Your overactive thoughts nearly run wild when his arms flexed out of his sleeves.

Remembering yourself, you shake your head. “Thanks, but won’t you be freezing?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Leon says with a slight smile, his gentle tone echoing yours when you tried to save face in a surprisingly teasing manner. For as long as you’ve known the blond, he was rarely warm and gentle. His stern, straight-laced demeanor and dry sense of humor often overshadows his kinder, sociable qualities. So to see him so openly considerate was a rare treat. This unexpected side of him stirred feelings inside you that are not at all unwelcome, but you found yourself at a loss for words.

He takes his jacket by the collar and offers it to you with an encouraging look that said that he wasn’t going to take “no” for an answer. You breathe out an air of defeat, reaching towards him. Against your will, your eyes roamed over the thick veins of his strong forearm and bicep appreciatively, and you tried to recover by quickly looking up. That was a mistake. He was no longer wearing a grin, but the heat within his eyes intensifies when they meet yours. You felt your cheeks burning under his knowing gaze.

Your fingertips (unintentionally) brush against his as you grabbed hold of the faux fur and was about to accept the weight of the clothing in your hands until you felt something warm and heavy drop around your shoulders. It took you by surprise and you look over to your side to see Luis standing next to you- sans leather jacket.

The Spaniard had his signature lopsided smile on his handsome face as he adjusted the stitched leather around you, making sure that it would not fall. It gave you an opportunity to look him over as well. You knew he wore a white-buttoned shirt, but now that he wasn’t wearing his jacket, you can see how nicely the fabric fitted on his frame.

For a man who considers himself the brains of your group, he was impressively cut. While Luis wasn’t as strongly built as Leon, he had a lean, well-defined waist that would have otherwise been hidden from sight with his jacket on. The sleeves of the shirt hugs his long arms nicely and his broad frame tautly stretches the thin creases that ran across the fabric, accentuating the exposed portion of his scarred chest. It became apparent to you then that Luis left the few buttons undone for reasons beyond just visual appeal.

The dark-haired man chuckled beneath his breath as he caught you staring. “Take mine, my friend. I’ve kept it warm- just for you.”

“Luis,” you started, trying to keep a straight face, “aren’t you worried about getting sick?” Your consideration came from a genuine place of concern and it showed in your voice, but you couldn’t argue the relief you felt wrapped inside the warmth provided by his jacket. You thought the leather would do little against the chilly weather, but surprisingly, it felt wonderful on you- most certainly because Luis’ heat formerly occupied it and the thought of you surrounded in said heat made your already feverish blush deepen.

“Y no te preocupes por mí.” He assures confidently. “I grew up in these parts. This weather doesn’t affect me one bit, so I insist.”

The man doesn’t give you an opportunity to respond.

“Unless…” Luis pauses for a second, playfulness glinting in his grey eyes. He then steps closer to your front. The movement forces you to reflexively let go of Leon’s jacket, leaving it to hang in the other man’s hand to allow room for the Spaniard to step in between you. Now only Luis stands in your full view, his eyes locking yours, all while maintaining his charming grin. “We come in close. Like this.”

The devilish man wraps a daring arm around your shoulders, nudging you closer to him but not forceful enough where you couldn’t pull away if you wanted to. You subconsciously didn’t want to and allowed him to bring you in, stopping to where your chests are merely a hair’s breath away from pressing against one another.

“This way we can keep each other warm,” he continues with a wink. “A good idea, ¿sí?”

Your ears pick up an annoyed scoff and you look over Luis’ broad shoulder. Leon stood with arms crossed, his bored eyes casted to the side as if finding something interesting in the distance. He already had his jacket back on, much to your disappointment.

Before you, Luis wears an amused smirk, addressing the blond without looking at him with faux intrigue, his focused gaze still resting entirely on you. “Something funny, Sancho?”

Leon ignores the obvious jab, “Just making mental bets on how long you’ll last before you start running your mouth. So far, I’m leaning towards two minutes.”

This made the Spaniard take a step back to turn his body sideways, arm still resting around you. Luis hums thoughtfully.

“Such harsh words for a squire,” he dismisses the counter with a casual shrug, squeezing your shoulder. At the time, you thought it to be a warm gesture, not once detecting the possessive undertones blatantly on display at the action. “Never underestimate a knight’s resilience. Or his endurance.”

If you had paid attention, you would have noticed the two men glaring at one another. You would have caught Leon’s challenging snarl and Luis’ taunting gaze. But no, you were too busy settling into Luis’ jacket, slipping your arms into the sleeves and zipping it closed around your form.

Ashley’s voice calls out to the three of you, announcing that she found something. Without a second thought, you start stepping towards her direction, separating yourself from Luis’ heat. You missed the frown he wore at your absence and by the time you looked back at him, he had on his usual charming smirk.

“Thanks for the jacket, Luis. I’ll give it back, I promise.” You say graciously, causing his grin to widen to a genuine smile. You then stop before Leon, also offering him a grateful look as you patted his chest. It was meant to be an amicable touch but the contact sent jolts of electricity from your palm to your chest. His body exuded an inviting warmth that made you hesitant to withdraw as you spoke trying to keep your voice level. “And I appreciate the thought, Leon. You’re always so reliable.”

You missed the subtle redness in his cheeks then too, willing yourself to give space and continuing to move to Ashley’s location. Both men are left staring after you, longing evident in the pools of silver and blue. After what seemed like an eternity of tense silence, Luis is the first to speak up.

“Dos minutos, mi culo.” He grumbles, a hint of amused irritation in his thick accented voice.

Leon snorts in turn. “That was generous.”

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astrxq · 5 months ago

Note

Since your request are open and you want to experiment with jace🫣, I was wondering if you could write modern!jace from best friends to lovers, something fluffy and cute<3

Flickers of Friendship

modern!jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

words: 4.8k

notes: feedback is appreciated!! warnings: making out, aged-up characters.

The gentle hum of the refrigerator filled the kitchen as you stood there, staring blankly at its contents. It was nearly midnight, and the soft glow from inside illuminated your face in the otherwise dark room. You weren't really hungry; it was more of a habitual late-night wandering that brought you here.

"If you stare any harder, you might just melt the ice cream," a familiar voice teased from behind you.

You didn't need to turn around to know it was Jace. His presence was as familiar to you as your own shadow, a constant in your life for as long as you could remember. You could picture the amused smirk on his face without even looking.

"I'm contemplating the mysteries of the universe," you replied dryly, finally closing the fridge door and turning to face him.

Jace was leaning against the doorframe, his dark hair slightly tousled from running his fingers through it – a habit he'd had since you were kids. He wore an old t-shirt and sweatpants, his usual nighttime attire. Even in the dim light filtering in from the living room, you could see the glint of humor in his eyes.

"Ah, yes. The great philosophical question: to snack or not to snack," he quipped, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering into the kitchen. "That is the question."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't suppress the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. This was how it always was with Jace – easy banter, comfortable silences, and an inexplicable ability to make you smile even when you were determined not to.

"What are you doing up?" you asked, hopping up to sit on the counter. Your legs dangled, not quite touching the floor.

Jace shrugged, mirroring your position on the opposite counter. "Couldn't sleep."

"Your Spidey senses tingling again?" you joked.

He grinned, tapping his temple. "They're never wrong when it comes to you."

There was a brief pause, a comfortable silence settling between you. It was moments like these that you cherished most – just existing in the same space, no need for words or explanations. You'd known each other for so long that silence was never awkward; it was a shared language of its own.

"So," Jace said after a while, his voice softer now. "What's really keeping you up?"

You sighed, knowing he'd see right through any attempt to deflect. "Just thinking about that group project due next week. I'm worried we won't finish in time."

Jace nodded understandingly. "The one for Professor Harrison's class?" When you confirmed with a nod, he continued, "Want me to take a look at it tomorrow? Two heads are better than one, especially when one of those heads is as brilliant as mine."

You snorted, reaching out to swat his arm playfully. "Your humility never ceases to amaze me."

"M’just stating facts," he defended, catching your hand before you could pull it back. His thumb absently traced circles on your palm, a gesture so natural and familiar that neither of you seemed to notice. "Seriously though, I'd be happy to help if you need it."

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten with affection. This was Jace – always ready to lend a hand, always there when you needed him. You squeezed his hand gratefully. "Thanks, Jace. I might take you up on that."

He smiled, a softer version of his usual grin. "Anytime. That's what I'm here for."

You sat there for a moment, hands still linked, before Jace suddenly hopped off the counter. "Come on," he said, tugging you gently off your perch. "If we're going to be up, we might as well do something fun."

"Jace, it's past midnight," you protested weakly, even as you allowed him to lead you to the living room.

"Exactly," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Perfect time for a movie marathon. You pick the first one, I'll make the popcorn."

Before you could argue further, he was already back in the kitchen, the sound of popcorn kernels hitting the bottom of a pot following soon after. You shook your head fondly, knowing resistance was futile. This was classic Jace – spontaneous, thoughtful, and always knowing exactly how to distract you from your worries.

You settled onto the couch, pulling the soft throw blanket over your legs as you scrolled through your shared streaming queue. By the time Jace returned with a large bowl of popcorn, you had picked out an old favorite – a cheesy comedy you'd watched together countless times.

"Excellent choice," Jace approved, setting the bowl on the coffee table before plopping down next to you. Without hesitation, he lifted the edge of the blanket and scooted closer, his warmth seeping into your side.

As the opening credits rolled, you felt the tension from earlier slowly melting away. Jace's arm found its way around your shoulders, a casual gesture that felt as natural as breathing. You leaned into him, your head finding that perfect spot between his shoulder and chest.

"Thanks for this," you murmured, your eyes fixed on the screen but your attention on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Jace's response was to pull you a little closer, his fingers absently playing with a strand of your hair. "Always," he said simply.

And as you sat there, wrapped in the cocoon of warmth and familiarity that was Jace, you couldn't help but think that maybe sleepless nights weren't so bad after all. Not when they led to moments like these – quiet, unassuming, yet somehow more intimate than any grand gesture could ever be.

The movie played on, but neither of you were really watching anymore. You were too caught up in the comfort of each other's presence, in the unspoken understanding that had defined your friendship for years. And if there was a flutter in your chest when Jace's lips brushed against your forehead in a fleeting, almost unconscious gesture – well, that was something to contemplate another time.

The first rays of sunlight filtering through the living room blinds roused you from sleep. For a moment, you were disoriented, unsure why you weren't in your bed. Then you felt the steady rise and fall of Jace's chest beneath your cheek, and the events of last night came rushing back.

You must have fallen asleep during the movie. Jace's arm was still draped around you, his hand resting lightly on your waist. The TV screen had long since gone dark, and the bowl of popcorn sat untouched on the coffee table.

You lay there for a moment, not wanting to disturb the peaceful quiet of the morning or the warmth of Jace's embrace. It wasn't the first time you'd fallen asleep together like this, but something felt different this time. There was a flutter in your stomach that you couldn't quite explain.

Carefully, you tilted your head to look at Jace's sleeping face. His features were relaxed, lips slightly parted, dark lashes fanned against his cheeks. A lock of hair had fallen across his forehead, and you had to resist the urge to brush it away.

As if sensing your gaze, Jace's eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times, confused, before his eyes found yours. A slow, sleepy smile spread across his face.

"Morning, sunshine," he murmured, his voice husky from sleep.

You felt your cheeks warm at the endearment, even though you knew it was just Jace being Jace. "Morning," you replied softly. "Sorry I fell asleep on you."

Jace's arm tightened around you briefly in a gentle squeeze. "No complaints here. You make an excellent blanket."

You laughed quietly, finally pushing yourself up to a sitting position. Jace followed suit, stretching his arms above his head with a groan. His t-shirt rode up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin above his sweatpants. You quickly averted your eyes, suddenly feeling flustered.

"What time is it?" Jace asked, running a hand through his messy hair.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. "Just past seven."

Jace groaned again, flopping back onto the couch dramatically. "It should be illegal to be awake this early on a Saturday."

"Says the guy who dragged me into a midnight movie marathon," you retorted, poking his side.

He squirmed away from your finger, laughing. "Hey, that was for your own good. Can't have my best friend stressing herself into an early grave."

The fondness in his voice made your heart skip a beat. You stood up quickly, needing to put some distance between you and the confusing feelings swirling in your chest.

"I'm going to make some coffee. Want some?" you asked, already heading towards the kitchen.

"Is that even a question?" Jace called after you. You could hear him getting up from the couch, his footsteps following you into the kitchen.

As you busied yourself with the coffee maker, Jace leaned against the counter beside you, watching your movements with a soft expression you couldn't quite decipher.

"So, any big plans for today?" he asked, reaching past you to grab two mugs from the cabinet. His arm brushed against yours, sending a small shiver down your spine.

You shook your head, both in response to his question and to clear your muddled thoughts. "Not really. I should probably work on that project some more."

Jace nodded, setting the mugs down next to the coffee maker. "Want some company? I meant what I said last night about helping out."

You turned to face him, touched by his offer. "You don't have to do that, Jace. It's your day off too."

He shrugged, a lopsided smile on his face. "What else am I going to do? Besides, I like spending time with you. Even if it involves boring schoolwork."

There was something in his eyes, a warmth that made your breath catch in your throat. For a moment, you just stared at each other, the air between you charged with an energy you couldn't name. The gurgle of the coffee maker broke the spell. You turned back to pour the coffee, grateful for the distraction.

"Okay," you said, handing him a steaming mug. "But fair warning: it might involve a lot of complaining on my part."

Jace's fingers brushed yours as he took the mug, lingering a second longer than necessary. "Bring it on. I happen to be an excellent complaint receptor."

You laughed, "Well, aren't you just the perfect friend? Sacrificing your Saturday for little old me."

"What can I say?" Jace grinned, taking a sip of his coffee. "I live to serve."

"My hero," you deadpanned, but your smile gave you away.

As you both stood there, sipping your coffee and trading playful jabs, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. This was familiar territory – the easy conversation, the shared laughter, the comfortable silences. But there was also something new simmering beneath the surface, a current of awareness that hadn't been there before.

You found yourself noticing things you'd never paid attention to before – the way Jace's eyes crinkled when he laughed, the dimple that appeared in his left cheek when he smiled, the gentle timbre of his voice when he spoke softly.

It was confusing and exhilarating all at once, and you weren't sure what to make of it. But as Jace launched into a detailed plan for tackling your project, his enthusiasm infectious, you decided to push those thoughts aside for now.

You had a whole day ahead of you, just you and Jace. Whatever these new feelings were, they could wait. For now, you were content to bask in the warmth of his presence and the promise of his company.

The morning sun climbed higher in the sky as you and Jace settled into your shared workspace – the small dining table tucked into the corner of your apartment. Books and papers were strewn across its surface, your laptop open to a half-finished document. Jace sat beside you, close enough that your elbows occasionally brushed as you worked.

"Okay, so walk me through what you've got so far," Jace said, leaning in to look at your screen. His proximity sent a small thrill through you, one that you tried to ignore as you began explaining your project.

As you talked, Jace listened intently, his brow furrowed in concentration. It was a look you'd seen countless times before, but today it made your heart skip a beat. You found yourself stumbling over your words, distracted by the way his hair fell across his forehead, the sharp line of his jaw, the warmth of his arm against yours.

"...and that's where I'm stuck," you finished, realizing you'd been rambling. "I just can't figure out how to tie it all together."

Jace nodded thoughtfully, then turned to face you. His knee bumped yours under the table, and neither of you moved to break the contact. "I think I see the problem," he said, his voice low and close. "You're trying to connect too many ideas at once. What if we approach it from a different angle?"

He reached for your laptop, his hand brushing yours as he took control of the touchpad. You inhaled sharply at the contact, a jolt of electricity running through you. If Jace noticed your reaction, he didn't show it, instead focusing on rearranging the sections of your document.

As he worked, explaining his thought process, you found yourself watching him more than the screen. The way his lips moved as he spoke, the little crease between his eyebrows when he concentrated, the gentle timbre of his voice – it was all suddenly, intensely fascinating.

"What do you think?" Jace asked, turning to you with an expectant smile. You blinked, realizing you hadn't heard a word he'd said.

"Uh, could you repeat that?" you asked, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. "I think I zoned out for a second."

Jace's smile turned teasing. "Am I boring you already? And here I thought I was being brilliantly insightful."

You laughed, shoving his shoulder playfully. "You? Brilliant? Never."

"You wound me," Jace clutched his chest dramatically. "After all my hard work and dedication."

"Your ego will survive," you retorted, but there was no bite to your words. Just fondness, warm and familiar.

Jace's expression softened, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, caught in a gaze that felt charged with unspoken words. Your heart raced, and you found yourself leaning in slightly, drawn by some invisible force.

The sudden blare of Jace's phone alarm shattered the moment. You both jumped, the spell broken.

"Shit," Jace muttered, fumbling for his phone. "I forgot I promised to call my mom this morning."

You nodded, trying to ignore the pang of disappointment in your chest. "Go ahead," you said, gesturing to his room. "I'll keep working on this."

Jace hesitated, looking torn. "You sure? I can reschedule..."

"Don't be silly," you insisted, mustering a smile. "Go talk to your mom. I'll be fine."

He nodded, getting up from the table. But before he left, he paused, his hand resting on your shoulder. "Thanks," he said softly, giving you a gentle squeeze. The warmth of his touch lingered even after he'd disappeared into his room.

You stared at your laptop screen, trying to focus on the work in front of you. But your mind kept wandering back to the moment before the interruption. What had that been? The way Jace had looked at you, the way your body had gravitated towards his... it felt different from your usual interactions, charged with a tension you couldn't quite name.

Shaking your head, you forced yourself to concentrate on the project. It was probably nothing, you told yourself. Just your imagination running wild after a night of little sleep and too much closeness.

But as you worked, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and Jace. Whether it was a momentary blip or the start of something more, only time would tell.

An hour passed before Jace emerged from his room, looking slightly harried. "Sorry about that," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Mom got chatty."

You smiled, understanding all too well. "No worries. How is she?"

"Good," Jace replied, dropping back into the chair beside you. "She says hi, by the way. Asked when you're coming to visit again."

A warm feeling spread through your chest at the mention. Jace's family had always treated you like one of their own, ever since you were kids. "Tell her soon," you said. "I miss her cooking."

Jace laughed. "I'll let her know. She'll be thrilled – you know she loves feeding people."

As Jace settled back into work mode, you found yourself stealing glances at him. The easy familiarity between you was still there, but now it was tinged with something else. An awareness that hadn't been there before, a hyper-consciousness of every move, every touch.

You worked side by side for the next few hours, the project slowly taking shape under your combined efforts. Jace's insights proved invaluable, his unique perspective helping you overcome the roadblocks you'd been struggling with.

As the afternoon wore on, you found yourself relaxing into the rhythm of your collaboration. The earlier tension faded, replaced by the comfortable synchronicity you'd always shared. Yet, there was a new undercurrent to your interactions – a lingering touch here, a prolonged gaze there, moments of silence that felt heavy with unspoken words.

By the time the sun began to dip towards the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you'd made significant progress on the project.

"I think that's enough for today," Jace said, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt rode up slightly, revealing a strip of skin that you found yourself staring at before quickly averting your eyes.

"Yeah," you agreed, saving the document and closing your laptop. "Thanks for your help, Jace. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Jace's expression softened, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Anytime," he said softly. "That's what I'm here for."

There was something in his voice, a tenderness that made your breath catch. You looked up, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you.

The moment stretched, full of possibility. You found yourself leaning in slightly, drawn by some invisible force. Jace mirrored your movement, his eyes flickering briefly to your lips before meeting your gaze again.

Your heart raced, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through you. Was this really happening? Were you and Jace about to...?

The sharp ring of the doorbell made you both jump, the moment shattering like glass. You jerked back, nearly toppling your chair in your haste.

"I'll get it," Jace said quickly, already on his feet and heading for the door. You watched him go, your heart still pounding, mind reeling from what had almost happened.

As Jace's voice mingled with that of your neighbor, asking to borrow some sugar, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. What had that been? Were you imagining things, or had Jace been about to kiss you?

And more importantly, why did a part of you wish the doorbell hadn't rung?

The days stretched into weeks, each one a delicate dance of unspoken words and lingering glances. Your relationship with Jace remained as close as ever, yet there was an undercurrent of something new, something neither of you dared to name.

One lazy Sunday afternoon, you found yourself sprawled on the living room floor, textbooks and notes scattered around you. Jace was nearby, lounging on the couch with his laptop, occasionally mumbling to himself as he worked on an assignment.

"Hey," you called out, not looking up from your notes. "What's another word for 'fundamental'?"

"Hmm," Jace mused. You could hear the smile in his voice as he replied, "Crucial?”

With a nod, you turned back to your essay, you forced yourself to pretend not to have caught Jace looking at you with an expression you couldn't quite decipher. It was soft, almost wistful, and it made your heart do a funny little flip in your chest. But before you could analyze it further, he had already returned his attention to his laptop, leaving you to wonder if you'd imagined it.

The moment passed, as so many similar moments had over the past few weeks. Yet each one left a lingering warmth, like the afterglow of a sunset, building slowly into something you weren't quite ready to name.

Days turned into nights, filled with shared meals, late-night study sessions, and the comfortable silences that only come with true familiarity. You found yourself noticing little things about Jace that you'd never paid attention to before – the way he always made sure to make extra coffee for you in the morning, how he'd absently hum while doing the dishes, the gentle way he'd touch your shoulder when passing by.

One evening, as you both prepared dinner in the small kitchen, you reached for a spice jar at the same moment Jace did. Your hands brushed, and you felt that now-familiar jolt of electricity. You both froze for a moment, eyes meeting over the cluttered countertop.

"Sorry," Jace murmured, his voice low. "You go ahead."

You nodded, unable to form words, and grabbed the jar. As you turned back to the stove, you could feel Jace's gaze on you, heavy with unspoken thoughts. You almost forgot what you needed the jar for, too caught up in the moment.

These moments became more frequent, each one a tiny spark adding to a slowly building fire. A lingering touch while passing the salt at dinner. A shared laugh over an inside joke that left you both breathless. The way Jace's eyes would soften when he looked at you, thinking you wouldn't notice.

You found yourself seeking out these moments, craving the warmth they brought. Yet neither of you took that final step, both hesitant to disturb the delicate balance of your friendship.

As midterms approached, the atmosphere in your apartment grew tenser, filled with the stress of impending exams. You spent long hours hunched over textbooks, your mind a whirl of facts and figures. Jace was equally busy, but he always seemed to sense when you needed a break.

One night, as you sat at the dining table, staring blankly at your notes, Jace appeared beside you. Without a word, he gently closed your textbook and tugged you to your feet.

"Come on," he said softly. "You need a break."

Too tired to argue, you let him lead you to the living room. He sat you down on the couch, disappeared into the kitchen, and returned moments later with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

As you sipped the sweet drink, Jace put on a movie. He settled beside you on the couch, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body. It all felt too familiar, making you remember the last time you fell asleep together.

Halfway through the movie, you felt your eyelids growing heavy. Without thinking, you leaned into Jace, your head finding that perfect spot between his shoulder and chest. His arm came around you, holding you close, and you felt him press a soft kiss to the top of your head.

The movie's credits rolled, but neither of you moved. Your eyes were closed, Jace's steady heartbeat a soothing rhythm beneath your ear. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm, sending shivers down your spine.

"We should probably get some sleep," Jace murmured, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

You nodded but made no effort to move. "Probably," you agreed softly.

Another moment passed in comfortable silence. Then, slowly, you lifted your head to look at him. Jace's eyes met yours, dark and intense in the dim light of the TV screen. Something in his gaze made your breath catch in your throat.

"Jace," you whispered, barely audible.

His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing lightly across your skin. "Yeah?" he breathed, leaning in slightly.

Your heart raced as you tilted your face towards his, drawn by an invisible force. Time seemed to slow as the distance between you narrowed, until finally, finally, his lips met yours.

The first touch was soft, tentative, a gentle press of lips that sent sparks coursing through your body. For a moment, you both hesitated, teetering on the edge of this new territory. Then, as if a dam had broken, the kiss deepened.

Jace's hand slid into your hair, cradling the back of your head as he pulled you closer. Your fingers gripped his shirt, anchoring yourself as the world seemed to spin around you. His lips moved against yours with growing urgency, years of unspoken feelings pouring out in a rush of passion.

You gasped softly as Jace's tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. Without hesitation, you granted it, meeting his tongue with your own. The taste of him – a hint of chocolate and something uniquely Jace – made you dizzy with want.

The kiss was everything you'd never let yourself imagine and more. It was the comfort of years of friendship mixed with the thrill of new discovery. Jace kissed like he did everything else – with full dedication and a hint of playfulness. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, drawing a small sound from you that he swallowed eagerly.

Your hands roamed, one sliding up to tangle in his hair, the other tracing the strong line of his jaw. Jace's free hand found your waist, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to caress the skin beneath. His touch left trails of fire in its wake, igniting every nerve ending.

When you finally broke apart, both gasping for air, Jace rested his forehead against yours. His eyes, when they fluttered open, were dark with desire, but there was also a softness there that made your heart ache.

"Hey," he breathed, a smile tugging at his lips.

You couldn't help but laugh softly, feeling giddy and overwhelmed. "Hi," you agreed.

Jace's thumb stroked your cheek as he gazed at you with wonder. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he admitted.

Your heart soared at his words. "Me too," you confessed. "I just... I was afraid of ruining what we had."

"Nothing could ruin us," Jace said with conviction. He leaned in, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to your lips.

This time when your lips met, it was slower, deeper. A promise and an exploration. Jace took his time, mapping every contour of your mouth with his tongue, drawing soft sighs and quiet moans from you. Your fingers trailed down his neck, feeling his pulse race beneath your touch.

When you finally parted, you were both breathless and flushed. Jace's hair was mussed from your fingers, his lips swollen from your kisses. You imagined you looked much the same.

"Jace," you whispered again, more firmly this time, seeking his eyes. He looked at you with such tenderness that it nearly took your breath away. "What happens now?"

His expression softened further, a small, reassuring smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Jace's smile widened, and he pressed another kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly, giving you space but not letting go. "We should really get some sleep," he repeated, though his tone held a note of reluctance.

You nodded, feeling the fatigue of the long day catch up with you again. "Yeah, sleep sounds good."

With a soft chuckle, Jace helped you to your feet. You both moved slowly, almost reluctantly, as if savoring every moment of this new closeness. He led you to your bedroom, his hand warm and steady in yours.

As you stood together at the threshold of your bedroom, Jace's hand still gently holding yours, there was a moment of hesitation. The unspoken question lingered in the air – should he stay or go to his own room?

Breaking the silence, Jace gave your hand a reassuring squeeze and leaned in, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"I'll let you get some rest," he murmured softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "Goodnight."

You felt a pang of longing at the thought of him leaving, but you knew that tonight was just the beginning of something new and beautiful between you. With a small smile, you replied, "Goodnight, Jace."

He lingered for a moment, his gaze searching yours as if to reassure himself of your mutual understanding. Then, reluctantly, he released your hand and turned to leave. As he walked down the hallway towards his own room, you couldn't help but watch him go, heart fluttering with giddiness.

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