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fartfather · 8 months ago

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Audience of One pt.3

Satoru x fem!reader x Suguru

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Word count: 6.5k

Series Summary: When Suguru first walked in on you and Satoru having sex, it was an accident. But he couldn't say the same about every time after that. He's under the impression that this habit of his is a secret. But you and Satoru have known this whole time and didn't plan on letting Suguru know anytime soon.

pt.3 Info: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, PiV sex, unprotected sex, voyeurism, threesome/throuple, cuck Gojo, hair pulling, morning sex, squirting, praise/degradation kink, spanking, begging, pet names (princess, baby, love, etc), established relationship w Gojo, aftercare, basically 90% porn 10% fluff, Gojo teaching Geto how to fuck you, Geto is no longer shy

pt.1 pt.2 pt.4

˚₊ · »-♡→ I know I said I'd post pt.3 yesterday, but I panicked and rewrote like half of it (oops lol). BUT- I'm much happier w this version 🛐

Also not sure if this would be a good place to end?? or if more parts would be wanted ¿ I would be more than happy to turn this into a series and I even have a pt.4 in the works, but I also don't want this to feel dragged on yk. Please lmk your thoughts because I am incapable of making my own decisions (ノ ° 益 °) ノ

Early hours of the morning came, and the first one awake was Geto. He looked down at you and his breath caught in his throat.

You looked so peaceful.

So angelic.

He couldn't help but press a soft kiss to your forehead.

His mind wandered to last night and he smiled. Everything was perfect. The feeling of your bare body was warm and inviting, and having you pressed against him sent sparks down his spine. Geto had never felt this way before.

He could get used to this.

"Hey," a sleepy voice whispered from beside him, startling him out of his trance.

Geto turned to see a very disheveled Gojo looking at him through half closed eyes, "Hey,"

Gojo’s attention shifted to your resting figure, still curled up against Geto's chest. He couldn't help the smirk that spread across his face.

"She's really out," he whispered with a small chuckle.

"Yeah," Geto replied, "we wore her out."

"Damn right we did," Gojo smiled proudly, "I'd like to see how long it takes to wear her out next time," Geto's eyebrows raised at the mention of a 'next time.'

Seeing the surprised expression, Gojo smiled and reached over, and landed a playful punch on Geto's shoulder, "I meant it when I said you're welcome anytime- In fact, I was thinking, would you want to do this again? Not just the sex, I mean, I that part too, but like, all of it. Hanging out and stuff," he clarified, a hint of embarrassment in his voice, “It just seems like there’s good chemistry between us,” he added trying to explain his reasoning with a gesture that circled the three of you.

Geto thought for a moment, contemplating his answer.

Last night was the best night of his life. And he didn't want it to end. He wanted to be able to feel your warmth against him again and again. To be able to see your beauty, and to experience all the joy and happiness that came along with it.

The events of last night unlocked something deep within him. His desires had surpassed mere lust, and turned into something more. Something deeper.

Something genuine.

And with that revelation, Geto decided to take a leap of faith. "I'd like that," he replied, a bit of nervous enthusiasm coming out in his tone.

Smirking, Gojo nodded and moved to brush stray pieces of hair out of your sleeping face. "Great. Well, I guess we'll have to have a real conversation about this once she's up," he nodded down at you, "but for now, we should probably get some more sleep."

"Yeah," Geto nodded, a smile creeping onto his lips.

With that, the two men fell back into a comfortable slumber, their arms gently wrapped around you.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

A few hours later your eyes began to flutter open, thick with blurriness from the heavy sleep you were just in.

Once your vision cleared, you were met with the sight of Gojo's sleeping figure beside you. His hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction. The sunlight was peeking through the curtains, casting a glow on his bare skin.

Turning to your left, Geto lay fast asleep. His features were relaxed, and his mouth hung slightly open. You couldn't help but admire his beauty.

You couldn't believe how lucky you were. Laying between these gods that walked among men.

You didn't want this moment to end.

Lifting yourself slightly to yawn and stretch, you accidentally hit Geto in the face, waking him. "Oops- I’m so sorry!" you giggled and flashed him an apologetic smile.

"It’s okay, beautiful," seemingly unphased by your elbow making contact his forehead, he smiled, leaning down to press a kiss on your cheek, “Good morning,”

The gesture was unexpectedly warm and sweet. Not that Geto had never been sweet to you before, but this just felt… different. Like it carried a new weight behind it.

You smiled and leaned into the kiss, "Morning," you murmured back, your voice still laced with sleep.

Geto's heart skipped a beat at the sight of your smile. He just couldn’t get over the warmth you radiated.

You felt a hand slide up your side and rest on your waist. "And what about me?" Gojo pouted.

Turning to face him you placed a soft kiss on his lips and mumbled into it, "Hello, baby," He hummed in satisfaction and scooted in closer, not wanting to leave even the slightest gap between you.

“How did you sleep?” Geto asked while massaging your neck that was tense after the events of last night.

"Mmm, so good," you replied, letting out a small sigh as the tension left your shoulders. You could practically feel the aches melting and your muscles turning to malleable putty under his touch.

"I'm glad," he smiled, continuing to rub his thumb into the knots of your skin.

"And you?" You asked, turning to look at him.

"Wonderfully," he smiled, his hands not stopping their massage. You couldn't help the way your cheeks heated up from this simple interaction.

God, his man was truly a treasure.

Gojo watched the interaction and felt a warmth spread through his chest. He liked seeing that you brought out Geto's soft side, and he knew that you enjoyed it too. The three of you stayed like that for a few minutes, silently enjoying each other's company.

Then, Gojo let out a dramatic sigh, and broke the silence.

"Hey, so," he started, looking between you and his friend, "Suguru and I talked earlier," Your brow furrowed at the tone in his voice. He sounded nervous.

Perking up, you raised a brow at him, "Oh?" You questioned.

"Mhm, we had a very productive conversation," Gojo continued, "while you were asleep," he clarified, "and, we think that, well, we- um, the three of us should hang out. Like, outside of sex. Or during. Or after. I mean- not like a requirement, just an option, if you're comfortable," he rambled.

You blinked.

Your face twisted with confusion as you tried to process his words. "Toru, what are you talking about?" you questioned, needing clarification.

"I want to date you too," Geto cut to the chase, his voice surprisingly steady and confident, "you would be with both of us. At the same time."

You stared at him.

Your brain was blank.

You breathed out a surprised, "Oh," The thought of it was interesting and foreign, though, not unwelcome.

"Only if you're comfortable with it," Gojo quickly added, "we know it's a bit... unconventional."

"A bit?" you asked sarcastically with a small laugh.

Gojo laughed and nodded, "Okay, a lot," he admitted, "but, we talked, and we agree. We want this," he said, motioning between the three of you, "Geto has clearly developed something for you, and vice versa. And I figured what better solution than adding Suguru to our relationship?"

You sat in silence for a few moments, mulling over the situation.

"It wouldn't be weird to you?" you asked Gojo with a concerned expression, "sharing me with your best friend?"

"Not if it's Suguru," he replied without hesitation, "we know each other well, and I trust him with my life. Plus- if it was, I would have never been able to enjoy the sight of my best friend eating out the woman I love, right?" he added with a teasing smirk, referencing the events of last night.

Your eyes widened and your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, "Satoru!" you scolded.

Gojo laughed and pulled you in for a quick kiss. "It's true," he whispered against your lips.

Turning to Geto, you gave him a questioning glance, "And you're okay with this?" you asked, wanting to make sure he was certain.

"Yes," he answered without a moment of hesitation.

"You would really want this?" you questioned, "It wouldn't be weird for you?"

Geto let out a chuckle, "I wouldn't be offering if it was weird for me. I'm not going to lie, it's a little unconventional," he stated, "but, I would love the chance to be with you- even if it's not the traditional way," his confession caused a wave of butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

You thought for some time. The two men waited patiently, knowing that you would need a few minutes to process everything.

Assessments of the situation swirled in your mind. You loved Gojo and the life you had with him. And you wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardize it. But they both seemed so certain. They said they trusted each other, and if that was the case then why shouldn't you?

And on top of that, you couldn’t deny how Geto made you feel. Last night was clearly more than a one time deal. It was deeper than just sex, it was intimate. The way he touched you and admired you all night had chills running down your spine from just thinking about it.

The more you thought about it, the more appealing the idea became.

Being able to be with both of them was a dream come true. They were both kind, generous, and made you feel like the most precious thing in the world.

"If you aren't comfortable with this-" Gojo began, but was quickly cut off.

"I want to," you said quietly, "but what if something goes wrong?"

Gojo and Geto exchanged a quick look and burst out laughing.

That was certainly not the response you were expecting when airing your worries. "What's so funny?!" You asked, a bit irritated that they were laughing at your valid concerns.

"Baby," Gojo chuckled, "have you not seen the shit we've been through together? We'll be fine.”

Crossing your arms in defense you Looked between the two of them, "But still- What if you guys get jealous, or something goes wrong and we stop talking, or- or-"

Pressing a finger to your lips, Gojo silenced your anxious ramblings, "Shh, baby," he whispered sweetly with a reassuring smile, "We've got each other's backs. Plus, I'll kick Suguru's ass if he makes you upset," he joked.

Geto laughed and nodded, "I'd do the same," he added, causing a small giggle to slip past your lips.

You gave them an unsure smile, "I know you say that nothing will happen, but what if something does?" you countered, looking between them for an answer.

Gojo took your hands in his and looked you dead in the eyes. "Nothing will go wrong," he said, his voice now serious and full of promise.

"I'll make sure of it," he stated, a fire in his eyes, "Suguru will too."

A heavy sigh escaped your lips and you turned to Geto with a silent question in your eyes. "I'm not gonna let either of us fuck this up," he affirmed, reading the concern behind your gaze.

"We want to make this work," Gojo added, "And besides, do you really think I would put the best pussy of my life at risk?" He squeezed your side, making you let out a giggle.

You gave him a playful shove, "Shut up, idiot,"

"It's true!" He laughed and caught your wrist, pulling you in and placing a kiss on your temple.

"He's right though," Geto smirked, "last night was the best experience of my life. And that’s saying a lot considering I didn’t even fuck you."

Your cheeks heated and you let out a flustered laugh, "So you're in this for the sex, is that what I'm hearing?" you teased, poking Geto in the ribs.

He caught your hand and pulled it to his lips, planting a kiss on your knuckles. "No, sweet girl, its more than that." he said, looking down at you with a tender smile, "I'm in this for you- you know that."

The way his tone softened and his eyes gleamed was enough to make you melt.

And without wasting another moment you looked between the two men and nodded, "I'm in," you stated confidently, "if the two of you are."

Both their faces lit up at your confirmation, and the smile on their faces was bright enough to blind a person.

"Hell yeah!" Gojo cheered and wrapped his arms around you, "we're gonna make this work," he said, placing kisses all over your face. Geto smiled and joined, littering kisses down your neck.

And just like that all previous worries were melted away from the tingles that rippled across your skin after each new kiss. You giggled and melted into both sets of arms that caressed and embraced you gently.

Slowly, their sweet kisses began to get more rough. More hungry.

The way their hands roamed your body and their lips nipped at your flesh sent a spark of excitement through you.

"You're gonna be all ours, aren't you, princess?" Gojo purred into your ear.

A small whimper slipped past your lips as his breath fanned your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. "Mhm," you hummed, your eyes becoming heavy with lust.

Geto's fingers traced your collarbones, moving further down and stopping just above your breast.

"And I'm gonna take such good care of you, give you everything you want," Geto promised, "you're mine too now."

His possessive words sent a jolt of heat straight to your cunt and you arched into his touch.

"Yours," you mumbled, too drunk off their affection to register what was being said.

They both let out satisfied hums.

Gojo's hands slid down your body, his fingertips grazing your nipples, before resting on your waist. "Our perfect girl," Gojo murmured and pressed a kiss to your shoulder, "you're so beautiful."

Geto's fingers dipped down into your cleavage, squeezing your breasts gently, and his lips found yours. "So obedient," he mumbled into the kiss.

You whimpered against his lips. The feeling of their hands all over your body and their praises filling your ears was intoxicating.

"Mm, fuck," Gojo groaned, grinding his erection on your ass.

Gasping into the kiss, your eyes widened and turned to him "Satoru," you whined.

"Shh, Princess," he shushed, his hands gripping your waist, "be a good girl and keep kissing Suguru while I play with you,"

Your breath hitched, but you nodded and turned back to Geto, who was looking at you with a dark lust in his eyes. And instantly, Geto's warm lips were back on yours. They felt soft and plump, like velvet pillows, and you couldn't help but melt into the sensation.

"Good girl," Gojo praised, his hands moving further down your body.

You whimpered when his hands came into contact with the bare skin of your thighs, his touch sending chills through your body.

Gojo leaned down and planted a kiss on your shoulder, then continued peppering kisses along the sensitive skin of your neck, "We're gonna keep you nice and happy, baby," Gojo promised, the vertebration of the words on your neck tickling you lightly.

Your mind was blank. All you could do was moan and let them explore your body. Geto's tongue was slowly swirling around your own. His movements were slow and gentle, taking the time to savor the feeling.

Rocking into Geto's thigh, you chased the pressure, hoping it would satiate the throbbing in your cunt.

Geto's grip tightened on your tits and he pulled back slightly, just enough to break the kiss and allow a string of spit to hang between your mouths. "This desperate already?" he smirked, his thumbs rubbing circles into the hard buds of your nipples.

"Always," Gojo smirked, "she's such a needy little slut,"

You whined and rolled your hips, the need between your thighs growing more apparent with every passing moment.

Geto's eyes flicked down to your mouth, which was parted and breathing heavier, then back up to your eyes. The sight made his cock twitch, and his gaze darkened, "Fuck, that's so hot," Geto groaned, his dick already hard. His hands moved downward to your hips, gripping to hold you still, "Be patient for us, princess."

Gojo continued his kisses along the length of your neck, his lips brushing against your skin, sending goosebumps up your arms. "She loves hearing us praise her," Gojo smirked, "she's always so desperate for any sort of validation. Drives her wild,"

The truth in his words made you whine and looked at Geto, who was staring down at you with lust-filled eyes. "Is that so?" He asked, his hands moving to cup your face.

"Yes," you breathed, leaning into his touch.

His attention turned back to Gojo, "And does she like to be degraded too?" He asked, curious, but already knew the answer.

Gojo opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off from a whimper that escaped your lips. You bit your lip, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you avoided their eye contact.

A mischievous smirk formed on Geto's lips, "Oh?" He tilted your chin up and looked down at you, "Look at me," he demanded.

You did as instructed, your heart skipping a beat when you met his gaze.

"Tell me," he began, his thumb running over your bottom lip, "do you like being treated like a little slut?"

His question caused a rush of heat to run through your body. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears, and you could swear that your arousal was now dripping onto the sheets beneath you.

Gojo couldn't help the chuckle that slipped past his lips. Your obvious reaction to Geto's words was adorable.

"I'll take that as a yes," Geto smirked, his eyes not leaving yours as he pushed his thumb past your lips. "Although, I guess I shouldn't expect anything more from the dirty slut who would let me watch her boyfriend fuck her for months."

The humiliation that coursed through you was overwhelming, and yet, you felt more aroused than ever before. You closed your eyes and took Geto's thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digit and letting out a moan.

You were helpless to the words coming from Geto's mouth, and there was nothing you wanted more than to be completely submissive to him. It was clear to them that this new way that Geto spoke to you was making you dizzy with lust.

"Oh, you like how Suguru is talking to you right now, don’t you, princess?" Gojo smirked, watching your reactions, "He's always so polite, so gentle with you. It's a nice change, huh? Seeing him be a little mean."

You nodded and moaned around Geto's thumb, which was still resting on your tongue.

Gojo was right, you did enjoy the new change. The way Geto looked down at you with a dark glint in his eyes, his usually sweet and caring demeanor nowhere to be seen, was driving you crazy. You wanted nothing more than to be dominated by him.

To be completely and utterly destroyed by him.

"What do you think, princess? Should we have Suguru fuck you? Let him see what a dirty, slutty, cum dump, you are firsthand?" Gojo cooed, his hands roaming up and down your thighs.

You whined, and Geto withdrew his thumb, a string of saliva still connecting it to your lips. "Is that what you want?"

”Please," you begged with an embarrassing urgency, "please, please, please, let him fuck me." you turned to Gojo, who was already beginning to stroke his cock with his free hand.

"Please," you repeated, looking up at Geto with a pleading expression, "I need it, please."

"Oh, you need it, do you?" Geto cooed, "Such a pathetic little slut, begging for my cock, and you don't even know how good I can fuck you," he teased, looking down at you with a patronizing smirk.

You whimpered and looked up at him, desperation clear on your face, "Show me," you begged, "please, show me how good you can fuck me."

The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk, "Well, since you're asking so nicely," he said, "Get on your back. Now." His demanding voice took you by surprise and you immediately followed his instructions.

You untangled your legs from his and laid back, looking up at him with wide, innocent, eyes.

"Good girl," Gojo praised, sitting beside you. He pushed your legs apart and dipped his fingers between your folds. He rubbed his hand sloppily, for his pleasure only, the goal being to collect your juices. Then, he brought it to his dick, using it to help his jerk off.

"So wet," he said, pumping his dick with your slick.

"Toru," you pleaded, arching into his touch that was no longer there.

"Shh, just sit back and let me watch Suguru fuck you, princess," Gojo soothed, his thumb running circles around his slit, mixing your wetness with his pre-cum.

The room felt like it was spinning around you, and the only thing grounding you was getting touched in the place you needed it most.

Geto positioned himself between your legs and placed his cock on your clit. You could feel the hot, throbbing, length rest on your sensitive bud and it made you shudder.

Geto's hand gripped your thigh and he spread you wider, taking in the sight before him. "God, I'm never going to get tired of that view," Geto sighed.

"Just wait until you're in her," Gojo smirked, admiring your glistening slick rub onto Geto's shaft.

He let out a hum and slid his cock between your folds, coating his dick in your wetness. You moaned, your breath hitching as the head brushed against your entrance.

Seeing how needy you were getting, Gojo moved his free hand down and spread your lips, exposing your dripping hole for Geto's viewing.

"So pretty," Geto praised, his tip prodding at your entrance.

You were soaking wet and more than ready for him, and when he slowly pushed in, a loud groan ripped through his throat as he inched deeper into your warmth.

"Oh, god, so tight," he praised, his hips pausing halfway to give you time to adjust, "so perfect."

Your hands balled into fists and you moaned loudly, the feeling of him filling you up was so overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

"Isn't she?" Gojo asked, leaning in to press kisses against your neck, "you're perfect, aren't you? The perfect little fuck toy for us, and us only- Say it."

As he continued to slowly slide in, Geto kept his eyes trained on yours, not wanting to miss a second of your reactions.

Heat rose to your cheeks under his gaze, embarrassment evident in your expression. "I- I'm," you stuttered, a small whine slipping past your lips before you could get the words out.

"Use your words," Geto commanded through clenched teeth, his grip on your thighs tightening as your cunt pulsed around him.

You whimpered and nodded, trying to collect yourself. "I- I'm a perfect fuck toy," you choked out, a mixture of craving and shame washing over you, "yours- just for the two of you,"

"Fuck- Yes, you are," Geto praised, bottoming out and giving you a few moments to adjust. You whined and clenched around him, feeling fuller than ever before.

After your muscles relaxed, you rocked lightly against Geto's cock, to show you were ready for him. Though, just that small movement had you seeing stars as his tip hit your g-spot.

Your mouth opened in a silent scream and your nails dug into the sheets, gripping tightly.

"Oh, did I find it already?" he asked patronizingly, his voice laced with sarcasm, "You must be so sensitive," You could do nothing but whimper and nod, not being able to form words.

"Fuck, do that again," Geto demanded.

You followed his instructions and rocked against him, moaning at the sensation. "Holy shit," Geto gasped, his eyes rolling back as you squeezed his cock.

Gojo watched with wide eyes, his hand slowly stroking his cock as he watched the scene unfold before him. "How does she feel?" Gojo asked with a chuckle. He already knew the answer.

Geto moaned, slowly starting to roll his hips, "Fucking heavenly," You felt a wave of satisfaction wash over you, knowing that Geto was enjoying your pussy just as much as you enjoyed his dick.

"So warm and tight," he added, picking up his pace, "I could fuck her all day,"

"Please," you whimpered, "fuck me all day,"

A satisfied smile crossed Geto's face, and without a word, he started to thrust into you at a steady pace. You gasped, feeling his cock fill you up with each push. Your walls tightened around him, trying to pull him deeper.

"Fuck," Geto groaned, "Such a greedy fucking pussy, doesn't want to let me go."

You whimpered and wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. His hands grabbed onto your waist and his fingers dug into the plush flesh. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, and your moans and whimpers grew louder and louder.

"Mm, look at her," Gojo cooed, "she's so fucking desperate."

"Mhm" you breathed out nodding and looking up at Geto, who was watching your every move. He looked absolutely breathtaking. His hair was a mess, his face was flushed, and his eyes were filled with desire. The sight of him looking down at you like that made your heartbeat quicken.

"You love having my cock buried deep inside of you, don't you?" he asked.

You nodded vigorously, unable to form any words, but the way your hips met his every thrust and the sounds that came out of you told him all he needed to know.

"Oh?" Geto smirked, "You need more? Fucking impatient little slut- You need me to fuck you harder?"

"Yes, please, please, please," you begged, your head falling back against the pillow.

"Such a good girl," he praised, his hand moving to rest on your lower stomach, "such a polite little whore for my cock."

He pushed lightly onto your abdomen while fucking deep into you. The pressure from his hand was foreign and had you squirming and whimpering, biting your lip to hold in your cries of pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, there! There!" You screamed, "Please, don't stop!"

Geto smirked and leaned forward, "Look at me," he demanded, his voice firm.

Your eyes shot open, not even realizing they had been closed. You stared up at him and his lust filled eyes, a look you had never seen before on his face. The sight made you instantly moan and your eyes began to roll back involuntarily.

"Keep your eyes on me," he commanded, emphasizing each word with a hard thrust.

Your jaw fell slack, and a strangled moan slipped past your lips as pleasure coursed through your veins. "S- sorry," you stuttered.

Gojo groaned and his fist picked up pace, jerking his dick in tandem with Geto's movements. "It's okay, baby, you're doing so good," he whispered, leaning forward and brushing the hair out of your face, "so good for us."

Geto's pace continued and the heat in the pit of your stomach began to build dangerously fast. "Fuck, Sugu- I- I-" you stuttered, struggling to form a coherent sentence.

"You're so close already, aren't you?" He cooed, his eyes not leaving yours.

You nodded, and a loud whine slipped past your lips as Geto's hips started to pick up speed. "Fuck," he groaned, "fuck, you're squeezing me so good, baby,"

"Gonna- Gonna cum," you managed to say through heavy breaths and muffled moans.

In response, the hand on your stomach pushed slightly deeper, and that's what threw you over the edge. The pressure had your toes curling and your back arching upwards followed by a strangled scream on your lips as you came hard.

Your vision went white, and a ringing filled your ears.

"Oh, fuck," Gojo groaned, watching your legs shake and your face display your ecstasy.

"Shit," Geto groaned, "keep cumming for me, baby, just like that- fuck!"

Gojo smirked and leaned back, admiring his two lovers. "God, the two of you are so fucking hot," he said, his hand working furiously to match the pace that Geto was now setting.

You could barely register what he said, too overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure crashing through your body. The warmth from deep in your core had overflowed, somehow finding its release- and soaking everything around you in the process.

Geto moaned loudly and looked down at your pussy, Gojo eyes followed, widening and jaw dropping.

"Holy shit," Gojo breathed out, "She's squirting," he said in awe, "fuck- I didn't even know she could do that."

Your juices were flowing freely, coating Geto's cock, balls, and the bed beneath you in a thick layer. It was as if a flood gate had opened and your arousal was pouring out of you.

"Oh, god, oh, god," Geto repeated, "you're squirting on my cock," he groaned and picked up his pace, fucking you through your orgasm, "so good, fuck- So fucking perfect."

Your mind was blank, all you could do was babble and moan, letting Geto fuck you as you rode out the last waves of your orgasm.

"Fuck," Geto growled, his hips began to stutter. "Go on, Suguru," Gojo urged, nearing his own climax, "cum in her."

Geto looked down at you, the glazed over expression on your face was enough to send him over the edge. With a final thrust he bottomed out and painted your walls with his seed, the sensation pulling a long moan from both of your lips.

You could feel his warmth spill into you, filling you up and coating your walls, and causing a brain numbing tingle to run up your spine.

Gojo wasn't far behind, his own cum coating his hand and abdomen. He pumped his shaft as the last few drops landed on his stomach. "Holy shit," he breathed out, leaning back and letting the orgasm wash over him.

"Fuck," Geto groaned, his head dropping to the crook of your neck. Both of you were completely spent, not even bothering to move or say a word. The only sounds in the room were the heavy breathing and racing heartbeats.

You could feel Geto's warm breath against your skin as he took a few deep breaths. You brought a hand up and gently ran it through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly.

The gesture was simple, but it made his heart melt, grounding him from the high he just experienced.

"That was fucking hot," Gojo praised, "You're both so fucking sexy. I loved seeing you two together."

"So good, my beautiful, perfect, angel," he continued, placing kisses on your forehead and cheek, "you did so well,"

You turned to him and smiled lazily, enjoying the praise. Geto looked up and admired your blissed out expression. "You look so pretty like this, sweetheart," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek, "so gorgeous."

You leaned into his touch and hummed, your eyes fluttering, half lidded in tranquility.

Gojo chuckled and placed a kiss on your temple, "Don't get too comfortable, princess, we still need to clean up."

"I'm not leaving this bed," you mumbled, closing your eyes completely and nuzzling into the pillow.

"You're so spoiled," he chuckled and turned to his friend, "Help me out here, man."

"Sorry, baby," Geto apologized, kissing your nose, "he's right, we need to get you cleaned up," You groaned and nodded, accepting defeat. Geto slowly pulled out and stood up.

"Come here, my sweet, precious, girl," Gojo said, lifting you off the bed, bridal style, "Let's go take care of you."

You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck. "M'kay," you replied, resting your head on his chest. Gojo carried you into the bathroom, and Geto followed closely behind. He sat you down on the toilet and you leaned against the wall, closing your eyes.

Once Geto entered, he turned on the bath faucet and waited for the water to warm.

"Do you wanna use a bath bomb, princess?" Gojo offered, reaching into the cabinet under the sink. "Ooh yes, please," you nodded opening your eyes with a tired smile on your lips.

A bright grin spread across Gojo's face from seeing you perk up, "Okay!" He exclaimed, grabbing one of your favorites and tossing it into the bath.

The sweet smell of citrus quickly filled the air, and the sight of the bubble bath and colorful fizzies had you feeling relaxed like never before.

Geto shut the water off and walked over to you. He knelt down and cupped your cheek, his thumb running over the soft skin. "How are you feeling, sweet girl?" He asked, a small smile on his lips.

You hummed and leaned into his touch, "Amazing," you replied.

He chuckled and kissed your forehead, "Good."

After all of the residue made its way out of you, you cleaned up and Gojo lifted you into the bath. He settled in behind you, wrapping his arms around you, and pulling you back to his chest.

"Is the temperature okay, princess?" Geto asked, sitting in the opposite side of the tub.

You hummed, closing your eyes and resting your head on Gojo's chest. "Perfect,"

"Good, we want you to be comfortable," Geto said, smiling.

"Thank you," you mumbled, snuggling into Gojo's chest.

It was a little crammed and you guys probably should have showered beforehand, but in that moment it was perfect and everything you could ever need.

The three of you had become comfortable and content.

As if that's how things had always been

Gojo was playing with the bubbles and making shapes with them on top of your head, while Geto was helping to wash the sweat off of your skin, his fingertips running gently along the curves of your body.

It felt so normal and domestic, and that's exactly what you had always wanted.

"So, how does this feel?" Gojo asked, reaching behind him to grab a loofah, "Is it weird? Being the meat in a Gojo and Geto sandwich?"

You choked on your breath and your eyes shot open, "Ew! It wasn't weird until you said that! Gross," you said, giggling and shaking your head.

"Yeah, Satoru, why'd you have to word it like that?" Geto asked, chuckling and chastising his friend.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that. It was funny!" Gojo laughed, running the loofah across your back, "Now answer the question."

"No, it doesn't feel weird," you replied, a smile on your lips, "I mean, yeah, we haven't done a lot yet, but I'm happy, and I like being with both of you."

"Yeah," Gojo agreed, "it's different, obviously, but, I'm glad it's the three of us. I love the dynamic, it feels like... home. Like the three of us were always meant to be together. Me and my two favorite people!" He threw his arms around your neck, his hands falling just above your chest.

You looked at Geto and he had the most genuine, loving smile on his face. "I couldn't agree more," he said, reaching out to take your hand in his. His hand was warm and comforting, and the way his thumb was rubbing circles into the skin had a warm tingle running up your arm.

Gojo was right, it did feel like home.

A warm, safe, comforting, home.

It was a strange situation, one that you never would have imagined yourself in. But at the same time you knew that the three of you would be able to make it work.

The three of you stayed in the bath for a little while longer, laughing, teasing, and joking, and eventually Gojo and Geto switched places. When the water began to get cold and the bubbles began to disappear, Gojo lifted you out of the bath and brought you back to the bed.

He gently laid you down and dried you off, pressing kisses all over your skin.

Geto emerged from the bathroom and watched the two of you. He could see how much Gojo cared for you, and how you trusted and loved him. It was a sight that made his heart flutter and he could only hope to have that deep of a connection with you one day.

"You're so cute," Gojo cooed, placing the towel over your head and rubbing it gently.

"Toru," you whined, the feeling tickling your scalp, "you're going to make my hair frizzy!"

"Shhh, let me enjoy this," he chuckled, moving the towel and planting a kiss on your forehead, "I love taking care of you, and seeing you so relaxed. Plus, I think your hair is adorable no matter what, and I know Sugu does too,"

Turning to Geto in the doorway, you pouted and tilted your head to Gojo, "Help me out here," you pleaded.

Geto couldn't help but smile. "He's right, sweet girl," he chuckled, walking towards the bed, "I think your hair is gorgeous no matter what," He pulled you into his chest for an embrace, but then scruffled your hair, catching you off guard.

"Hey!" You yelped, pulling away from him and trying to flatten your hair, "not you too!"

They both let out a laugh. "Sorry, baby," Geto apologized, leaning forward and pressing a kiss on the crown of your head.

"Traitor," you mumbled, earning a chuckle from Gojo and Geto.

"I'm gonna get dressed, I'll be right back," Geto said, reluctantly pulling away from the scene, "then, how about I make us a late breakfast?" You nodded and gave him a small smile.

"I knew there was a good reason to keep you around," Gojo teased, earning a slap on the shoulder from Geto before he walked off, "Ouch! Hey!"

Laughing you shook your head at Gojo's dramatic performance of pretending to be hurt by rubbing his shoulder, "I'm so wounded," he joked, flopping onto the bed beside you, "you're gonna have to kiss it better," he winked with a smirk.

"Maybe later," you giggled, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"Fine, fine," he scoffed, rolling his eyes and sitting up.

He smiled as he jumped off the bed and threw on a pair of sweatpants, "Come on, baby," he said, holding a hand out for you, "I'll pick out an outfit for you." You happily accepted and followed him over to your dresser, ready to start your day.

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silent-stories · 3 days ago

Text

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Tw: little bit of angst (fluff is always there, I don't even write it in the tw anymore)

Series masterlist

3 years earlier

Your apartment felt suffocating. You stood by the kitchen counter, staring at the sink, trying to breathe through the frustration that had been building for probably months. Jason was pacing in the living room, the sound of his feet on the hardwood floor sharp against the silence.

"Why is this always so difficult with you?" His voice was rising, the anger behind it unmistakable. "I try to talk to you, to explain how I feel, but it’s like I’m speaking to a wall. You don’t listen."

You turned, your patience wearing thin. "I am listening, Jason. But you can’t just lash out every time things don’t go your way. It doesn’t work like that."

Jason’s face twisted in disbelief. "You think I’m the one causing problems? You think I’m just making this up?" He threw his hands up, exasperated. "You don’t even seem to care when something’s wrong. You shut down every time I try to talk to you about it!"

You let out a slow breath, trying to hold on to the last shreds of calm you had left. "That’s not true. I care. But you’re trying to control everything. You are trying to control me, and it’s exhausting. Every time we have a disagreement, you make it feel like it’s my fault, like I’m the one who’s doing everything wrong."

Jason scoffed, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Oh, so now I’m controlling? That’s rich. I try to make things work, I try to talk to you, but all you do is shut me out."

"Don’t act like this is just about us not communicating," you snapped, your voice shaking with frustration. "It’s not just one thing, Jason. It’s everything. The way you treat me like I’m supposed to be available on your terms, the way you talk down to me like I’m incapable of making my own decisions. You’re always making everything about you and your needs, but you never ask how I feel about anything."

Jason’s eyes darkened, but you saw something else there too—fear. Maybe he wasn’t ready to face what he was losing, but you had already made up your mind. "You’re overreacting," he muttered, taking a step toward you, but you didn’t back away.

"No, Jason. I’m done," you said, your voice more firm than you felt. "This isn’t working anymore. I can’t keep doing this. I don’t want to keep doing this."

Jason froze, his brow furrowed. "What are you talking about? You don’t mean that. I love you. I need you."

Your chest tightened at the words,. "We shouldn't feel the love so painfully. I shouldn’t. You don’t love me, Jason. This isn’t love," you said. "Love isn’t trying to control someone, love isn’t belittling them every chance you get, love isn’t making them feel small. You don’t get to hide behind 'I love you' and make it okay."

His face twisted in disbelief, like he was trying to comprehend what you were saying. "You’re throwing all of that away? After everything?"

You shook your head slowly, the tears you’d been holding back threatening to break free. But you didn’t let them. Not now. "I’m choosing myself, Jason. I can’t keep letting you walk all over me and thinking it’s okay. I’m done with this and I am truly sorry things didn't go in a different way, trust me."

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at you like he couldn’t believe what was happening. His eyes flicked to the door and back to you, his lips parted like he was about to say something, but the words didn’t come.

"Just go," you said, your voice barely a whisper but stronger than it had been in weeks. "Please. I need you to leave."

Jason hesitated, his fists clenched at his sides. "You’re making a huge mistake," he muttered, his voice low and strained. "You can’t just throw this all away. You’ll regret it."

You shook your head. "No. I won’t. I’m not doing this anymore."

He stood there for a long moment, and then, with a final glance at you, he turned toward the door. It clicked open, and then shut.

The sound echoed in the silence of your apartment, and for a moment, you just stood there, your back pressed against the door, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You told yourself you had made the right decision, that you had done what was best for you. And yet, as the seconds ticked by, something inside you twisted.

The tears came in slow waves at first, and then, like a dam breaking, they poured out. You didn’t try to stop them. You didn’t even know how to. You sank to the floor, knees pulled to your chest, burying your face in your arms as the sobs wracked your body.

You had told him to leave. You had closed the door on him. You had made the decision to walk away from a relationship that has never been healthy.

And still, your heart ached like it had been ripped out of your chest. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself that you were done, that you were stronger than this, your heart betrayed you. You had loved him. You loved him.

And as much as you tried to convince yourself that the way he treated you—his lack of respect, his jealousy, his need to control everything—had been enough to make you forget the love you once shared, your heart couldn’t let go.

You loved him. Even if you didn't want to.

One week after he stepped out of your house, you got the news that he left the city to open his shop somewhere else. And you haven't heard from him since.

Now

You were still staring out the window, frozen, as the realization hit you like a punch to the gut.

Jason’s Ink Studio.

The name was loud and clear in your mind, a flashback to everything you had worked so hard to leave behind. You hadn’t expected this, not today, not now. You never thought he could get back in town, and yet, here he was.

Your gaze fixed on him before your mind could even catch up with the shock in your chest. He was standing on the other side of the road, talking to someone, his face in profile as he lifted a package—large, wrapped in brown paper.

His hair, lighter now than it had been back then, was short but messy, like he’d run his fingers through the light brown locks and forgotten to smooth it down. The buzz cut he once wore was gone, replaced with something more grown-up, but still familiar.

He was wearing a simple black sweater with the sleeves rolled up, revealing the tattoos that snake around his forearms, ink you remember well. His skin is still a bit tanned, like it always was.

His eyes, those blue-grey eyes that had always caught the light in that almost magnetic way, were hidden from now, but you knew they were shining under the morning light.

You didn’t want to look, but you couldn’t help it. As he turned, walking toward the door, his eyes flicked up, right toward the window where you were standing. For a split second, you could have sworn his gaze landed on you.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t move.

You weren’t sure if he’d actually seen you, or if you were just imagining it. But in that moment, everything around you seemed to stop. You held your breath. You didn’t want to react. You didn’t want to acknowledge him, not in this place, not now. You were happy with Noah. You didn't want to see him everyday in front of your workplace.

For a moment you both stood there, and then, just like that, he disappeared through the door of his own shop.

You exhaled slowly, the air feeling thick in your lungs. Your palms were suddenly clammy, and you found yourself gripping the counter for stability. He was here. Of course he was. Back there like nothing had changed. But so much had changed. You had changed.

You stared at the door he had just walked through, a sense of unease twisting in your stomach, still trying to wrap your head around the sight of Jason standing outside. It had been years, but seeing him again—especially in front of your café—stirred up a mess of old memories. Why the hell was he back?

Noah’s voice suddenly cut through your thoughts. “Hey, you okay?”

You blinked, snapping back to reality. "Yeah. I'm fine," you muttered, brushing off the question. But before you could add anything else, Grace, leaning over the counter, caught sight of what was going on on the other side of the window.

"Oh well—look who’s back."

You stiffened. Noah looked over, clearly confused. “Who?”

You let out a sharp exhale. “You remember when I told you about my ex?”

Noah raised an eyebrow. "The tattoo artist who treated you like shit and left the town to chase a bigger paycheck?"

“Yeah.”

Grace, without missing a beat, pointed at the window. “Him. Right there.”

Noah turned, following her finger, and the look on his face shifted. His eyes narrowed, “Of course he’s back.” He muttered.

You felt your stomach tighten. “I don't know why he's here. But I don't fucking want him here. Not in front of my café."

Grace, clearly enjoying the situation a bit too much, leaned in with a smirk. “I wonder if he already knows about your ‘charming’ new... rockstar boyfriend with pink nailpolish here?”

Noah shifted on his feet, his expression tightening ever so slightly. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Grace shrugged, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering if the guy’s gonna get jealous seeing you’ve moved on... to someone else.”

You felt the heat rise to your face, and before you could respond, Noah cleared his throat. His voice, though calm, had an edge to it. “Yeah, well, that’s none of his business.”

The casualness of his tone didn’t escape you, but there was something else—something in the way he said it that made you wonder if he was a little too quick to defend you. Or maybe he was just annoyed by the whole situation, too.

Grace watched the two of you, clearly entertained. "Oh, I get it now. High-school reunion vibes, huh? A bit embarassing and awkward?"

You shot her a glare. "Don’t even joke about that."

Noah’s posture had shifted. He was still looking at the window, but the way he stood now had more tension in it. “If he thinks he can just show up and start making trouble, I’ll deal with it,” he said, the words sounding like more of a promise than a suggestion.

You blinked at him, taken aback by the sudden protective tone in his voice. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate it—but why was he getting so worked up?

“I don’t need you to deal with it,” you said quickly. “I can handle it myself, don't worry.”

Grace leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, I’m sure you can. But... still, if he tries anything, I’m pretty sure he’ll wish he hadn’t.” She finished the sentence looking at Noah.

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the tension building between you and Noah. You could feel his eyes on you, but you weren’t sure if it was out of concern or something else entirely. Was he already jealous? Without even seeing Jason yet?

“He’s not gonna try anything,” you said, trying to reassure both you and Noah. “I’m done with him. For good. It's almost been four fucking years. I moved on. He probably did that too. Maybe he moved back with... I don't know, his wife? Who knows.”

Noah just nodded, staying silent. You knew his mind was full of thoughts but that wasn't the right moment to talk about them.

You stared at the window again, watching your ex as he spoke to someone outside, completely unaware of the tension building inside the café. The knot in your stomach only tightened.

You kept working after Noah left to work on something with the band.

The café was busy and you used that as a distraction from the knot of anxiety in your stomach. You couldn’t shake the image of Jason standing outside.

You busied yourself behind the counter as you made drinks and refilled pastries, trying not to look up at the window every few minutes. But every time the door opened, your heart jumped, and you couldn’t help but glance over.

A couple walked in, laughing together. The man’s grin reminded you too much of Jason’s—slightly crooked, genuine, and a little too familiar. For a split second, your heart skipped, and you felt the familiar ache in your chest. But as they made their way to the counter, you saw it wasn’t him. You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

"Can I help you?" you asked, your voice a little shaky as you forced a smile.

The man ordered a cappuccino, and you moved through the motions, trying to push the thought of Jason from your mind. But every time the door opened, you couldn’t stop your heart from skipping. You looked, always half-expecting him to walk through.

The bell above the door chimed again.

The man entering had brown short hair, his face half-obscured by the collar of his jacket, but for a moment, your mind screamed, It’s him.

You froze, watching as he approached the counter, but when he turned his face toward you, your stomach sank. It wasn’t Jason. Just another stranger.

You forced yourself to breathe, to smile. To get it together. You couldn’t keep reacting like this.

Minutes passed. Then another hour. The tension in your chest never quite eased, but you managed to focus on the customers, the tasks at hand, your routine.

Jason wasn’t coming in. He couldn’t be.

And as the day wore on, and the sun began to set, you didn’t see him again, not even outside the window.

You kept working, moving through the motions. But the truth was, the sense of unease wouldn’t leave. Every time you heard the door, part of you braced for the possibility that it was him. The man who had once been everything, but now felt like a stranger.

But he didn’t come. Not today.

Noah was sprawled on the couch in the band's living room, casually scrolling through his phone while Ruffilo sat across from him. The quiet hum of the house felt comfortable, but Noah’s mind was clearly elsewhere.

Finally, after a few minutes of silence, Noah set his phone down with a frustrated sigh.

“What's wrong, man?” Nick asked casually.

Noah ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just... Y/N’s ex is back in town,” he said, his tone less than enthusiastic. “And he opened up a tattoo shop right across from her café.”

Nick’s eyebrows shot up. "Wait, that guy? The tattoo artist?"

“Yeah,” Noah confirmed, leaning back against the couch. “Jason. He’s been gone for a while, but now he’s back. And of course, right across from where Y/n works.”

Nick nodded thoughtfully. "That’s... uh, that's gotta be awkward."

Noah rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, it’s not great. And I can’t help but feel like something’s going to happen. It just doesn’t feel good."

Nick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I get it, man. But, you don’t have to worry about that. Y/N’s with you now, and she’s moved on. She’s not gonna let some guy from her past mess things up.”

Noah hesitated. "I know. But... I don’t know, man. I can’t shake this feeling. Ever since I got involved with Y/N I’ve been scared of losing her. I’ve always been scared of it, after... well, after everything that happened with Hannah." He took a deep breath and looked at Nick, his expression more vulnerable than usual. “But now... with Jason back in the picture, I feel it more than ever. I don’t know what’s gonna happen, and it scares the shit out of me.”

Nick studied him for a moment, then leaned back into his seat, shaking his head slightly. "You’re doing it again," he said, his voice calm but firm. "You’re thinking about things that haven’t even happened yet. I get that you're worried, but listen, you don’t have to keep carrying that fear around."

"I know I sound like a broken record,” Noah said, rubbing his face with his hands. "I just... I love her, man. I don’t want anything to mess that up."

Nick’s tone softened. “I get it. I do. But you don’t have to be scared of losing her. You’ve got a solid thing going. Y/N chose you. And she’s with you now. Jason’s part of her past, and that’s where he’s gonna stay. She’s moved on."

Noah let out a long breath. "I know. But it’s still hard not to worry, you know?"

Nick gave him a small smile. "Yeah, I get it. But trust me, man. You’re enough. You don’t have to live in fear of something that might never even happen. You’re already doing everything right."

Noah nodded slowly. “Thanks, man. I needed that.” He stood up, stretching. “I should go pick up Luna. She’s probably starving by now.”

Nick chuckled, standing up with him. "Good idea. But hey, remember, if you need to talk, you know where I am."

Noah smiled. "Appreciate it."

With a final wave, Noah walked out the door.

Things would work out, he hoped. But he still couldn’t shake the weight of his own worries.

He didn't want to get hurt again.

When Noah stepped into the daycare, his eyes quickly found Luna sitting at a small table in the corner, her little brow furrowed in concentration as she worked on something with a pile of crayons scattered in front of her. She caught sight of him immediately and waved enthusiastically.

"Daddy!" she squealed, bouncing out of her seat.

Noah grinned, walking over to scoop her up in his arms. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Ready to go home?"

Luna nodded excitedly, but before Noah could move, Ms. Harper, one of the teachers, approached with a warm smile.

"Noah, do you have a second?" she asked. "We had a little project today, and I wanted to show you something."

Noah glanced at Luna, who ran off to rejoin a friend in a nearby play area.

"Of course," he replied, following Ms. Harper to the small corner of the room as she handed Noah a folded piece of paper.

"We had the kids draw pictures of their families,” she explained as Noah opened the paper carefully. “Luna was really proud of hers, and we wanted to make sure you saw it."

The paper was an explosion of color, with vibrant swirls of pink, blue, yellow, and green. In the sky, there was not a sun (like it usually was in kids' drawings) but a moon.

The clouds were big and puffy and a small house stood in the middle of the page.

Noah’s heart warmed as he looked at the three main figures in the foreground. One was small, the other two larger. The shapes were simple—a circle for each head, a few lines for arms and legs, but they were immediately recognizable. A man, a woman, and a smaller figure.

"That’s us, isn’t it?" Noah asked, looking up from the drawing to meet Ms. Harper’s eyes. His voice was soft, filled with warmth.

The teacher smiled and nodded. "Yep, Luna said it was ‘Daddy and Y/N.’ She was so proud of it."

Noah’s heart swelled as he looked back down at the drawing. The way Luna included you made him smile. "I love it," he murmured.

As he admired the picture, his eyes wandered to the background. He noticed several small shapes scattered on the horizon, almost like trees but not quite. They looked out of place compared to the other elements in the drawing, and his curiosity piqued.

"What are those?" he asked, pointing at the figures.

Ms. Harper chuckled softly. “She said those are her uncles,” she explained.

Noah’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, a laugh escaping him. "Her uncles?"

"Yes," she replied, grinning. "She said they’re the uncles who love her."

Noah couldn’t help but laugh too, a warm, genuine smile spreading across his face. "Well, I'll tell them Luna included them in the family," he said, shaking his head with amusement. "This is perfect."

Luna, who had been playing with her friend, returned to him just as he was carefully folding the drawing.

"Dad" she asked eagerly, "did you see my picture? What do you think?"

Noah beamed down at her. "I love it, Luna. I think it’s the best drawing ever." He picked her up with one arm and kissed the top of her head. "You’ve made me so happy with this."

Luna’s face lit up, her grin stretching wide across her face. She hugged him tightly, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck. "I’m glad you like it!"

The teacher gave them one last smile before stepping away.

"Alright, Lu," Noah said, shifting Luna slightly in his arms, "let’s go home."

The soft glow from the TV illuminated the dim room as you and Noah lay on his bed, wrapped up in the warmth of his blankets as Luna was already sleeping in her bedroom.

The gentle hum of some anime playing in the background was more of a comfort than entertainment at this point. You were curled up beside him, your head resting on his chest, the familiar weight of his arm draped over you. His hand idly brushed through your hair as you watched the fight happening on the screen, though you noticed he wasn’t quite as engaged as usual.

You shifted slightly, glancing up at him. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, unfocused, almost as if his mind had wandered far away from the bright colors on the TV. You could feel the subtle tension in his muscles, the quiet distance that had come over him.

"Hey," you murmured, your voice soft but steady. "Mrs. Linn asked to come see her sometime, yesterday. We talked a bit when I was about to get into my car to go back home. I forgot to tell you. She seemed such a sweet lady." You smiled, hoping to bring his attention back to the moment, but his gaze didn’t move from the ceiling.

Noah’s lips tugged up slightly, but it was more of a reflex than a genuine response. "Yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve seen her," he said absently. “Maybe we could all go sometime, say hi." His tone didn’t carry the usual warmth, though. His mind was still clearly elsewhere.

You frowned, now fully aware of the shift in his mood. You grabbed the remote and paused the anime, the room suddenly feeling quieter, even more intimate with the absence of noise.

"Is it about Jason?" you asked softly, almost afraid of what his reaction might be.

Noah didn’t look at you, but his head gave the smallest nod, confirming what you already suspected. His jaw tightened, and you could tell his thoughts were running in circles, probably replaying some old memories.

You let out a quiet sigh, lifting your hand to gently trace his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin. "You don’t have to worry, Noah," you said. "I love you. I love Luna. I love the life we’re building together. He’s a ghost from the past, and that’s all he’s ever going to be now." You pressed a soft kiss to his naked chest, hoping the words would reach him, would soothe all his worries.

For a long moment, Noah didn’t respond, but then he shifted, turning to face you. His eyes were soft but looked tired. "I know," he said quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "It’s just... when I realized he was back earlier, I don’t know... it just stirred up a lot of shit that is still there. You are important to me. I don't wanna lose you."

You smiled gently, sliding your hand to his face and cupping it tenderly, your fingers brushing his stubbled cheek. "You’re allowed to feel however you feel. And if you wanna talk about anything, I'm here." you whispered. "But don't think I'm gonna leave you. I’m right here. I'll be here until the day you'll tell me to go away." You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

And as if in response, his lips curved into a smile, a soft, real smile. You moved away slightly, your gaze meeting his.

"There it is," you teased, pressing more kisses to his face, his cheeks, his nose. His eyes closed, and he chuckled, the sound warm and genuine.

"Finally," you grinned. "I didn’t hear you laugh since this morning. I was starting to worry."

Noah’s laughter filled the quiet space between you two, and you thought, in that moment, that everything would be okay.

Even if Jason was back in town, he was still part of your past and that's where he was supposed to stay.

🍪 a cookie for you if you caught the little bmth reference

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @mathfairchild1 @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

TBAF Tags: @aubrey-melinoe @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @alwaysfighforwhoyouare @clickmedead @missduffsblog

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian x y/n #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian #bad omens

169 notes · View notes

ghost-proofbaby · 2 years ago

Text

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWELVE

in which you grapple with new emotions of nothing, eddie makes a few bad jokes, and honesty becomes an illusion again.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 3.8k+

→ a/n: half way point, folks! sorry this one is shorter. blame eddie?

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

12:00 ────────ㅇ───────── 24:00

JOHNNY BOY: No photo, no money, right?

ARGYLE 😎: learn some patience broski

JOHNNY BOY: It's been an hour and they aren’t answering. They haven’t said anything. I want my money.

DINGUS: why the fuck are you guys blowing up the chat right now? someone better be dead.

ARGYLE 😎: the lovers haven’t sent their hourly update.

ARGYLE 😎: maybe they are dead. killed each other with passion.

JOHNNY BOY: So what are we buying with that spare 1k, guys?

BIRDIE: oh fuck please tell me they aren’t dead

BIRDIE: did they seriously kill each other? do i need to facetime them?

DINGUS: @BIRDIE honestly, for once, you have a good idea. facetime them. i would call but… something tells me i need to back off for a while.

JOHNNY BOY: I take it you remembered that night at the bar?

DINGUS: oh fuck off (yes. i did.)

BIRDIE: i’m facetiming them now.

DINGUS: great. i’m going back to bed.

JOHNNY BOY: I think I’m going to buy a new camera with my cut of the money personally.

—

HOUR TWELVE - 3:00 AM

One of you should have moved.

It could have been minutes, hours, decades later. The concept of time is completely lost on you as you focus on the weight of Eddie lying over you. He’s half draped across your back, bare chest sinking into your exposed skin, throwing the brunt of his weight in the sliver of cushion available to him beside you. His softening cock is still inside of you, the warmth of him is encasing you from the inside out. You match each deep inhale of his with your own, exhaling on the same silent beat. An unspoken moment of synchronicity, letting the weight of the decisions just made truly crawl beneath both of your skins.

I hate you.

Good, then this changes nothing.

You wondered if he tasted the sour of his lie in the heat of the moment. You wondered if it was just as metallic on his tongue as it had been on your own.

One of you should have moved. But it takes the realization of your incapability to truly hate Eddie Munson as you should and the twitch of your body that follows to rouse Eddie.

“Fuck,” he sighs out, finally pulling out, turning to fully fit his body onto the couch rather than on top of you. You dangle a leg and arm over the edge of the sofa, keeping your cheek pressed to rough fabric and your eyes turned from him as you bite your tongue.

A million words you want to say in the clarity, all lost and slipping between your fingers with time.

I lied. I don’t hate you. This meant everything. This changes everything. I don’t hate you.

“Fuck is right,” you settle on murmuring instead. There’s nothing you can say now that can change what’s transpired. It’s over, it’s done with. Rather than staying stuck in the past still in your rearview mirror, you need to focus on the road laid out ahead of you two.

The two of you lay like that for even longer than you had the previous position, shifting here and there until you both fit comfortably on the lumpy cushions. Side by side, almost spooning, but space left between you. You don’t think Eddie even realizes his hand is grazing soft circles over your thigh, moving on its own accord and sending shivers of comfort down your spine.

Is the road ahead of you two even paved?

“What now?” he suddenly asks, breaking the silence you two had been reveling in. You had been in your own head, and you wonder for a moment if he had been as well. You can’t find it in yourself to glance over your shoulder and look at him, to solve the mystery on your own, instead clinging to those grazes of his fingertips still skimming your thigh.

With an exhausted sigh, you zero in your focus across the room, looking at the clock on the shelves, “I don’t know. It’s already three in the morning, so-”

“Oh, fuck.”

“What?”

“It’s fucking three,” Eddie is shooting up from behind you quickly, “We never sent a fucking picture.”

You understand his panic immediate, realization settling as he springs off of the couch, echoing his words with sincerity, “Oh, fuck.”

In any other scenario, it would have been comical to see a nude Eddie panicked and rushing about his apartment living room. To see him disposing of the condom, to see him struggling to pull back on his sweats and t-shirt before he’s disappearing into his bathroom and emerging seconds later with a blushing face and a wet rag.

He returns to you in an instant, murmuring the world’s softest apology before he swipes the cold cloth over your sore cunt, making you hiss out in surprise.

“What the Hell-”

“I said I was sorry!” he defends, tossing the rag to the floor before he’s grabbing your clothes, his clothes technically, and handing them over to you, “Figured you’d want to be dressed before we send the photo.”

“I-” you stare at the clothes with a contorted face, still trying to brush off the exhaustion that came with the sudden change in atmosphere. You hadn’t even gotten to maneuver the aftermath of it all, pilferage the rubble and bring up the possible path-not-yet-road that you two had to face going forward.

What did this mean for you two now? What did this mean for the remaining twelve hours?

Nothing, you suppose. Maybe you don’t need to ask those questions, because Eddie already answered them for you. It changes nothing.

“Thanks,” you numbly say and take the clothes from him. He grabs your phone off the floor as you shrug the clothing back on.

What the fuck were you expecting?

It was a one time ordeal. It was just a quick fix to get it out of both your systems. Just because you were needy, because you were craving a conversation about it all, didn’t mean Eddie was. There was no difference here between what transpired between the two of you and some random hookup. No feelings, no strings attached. The only difference was the obligation to spend another twelve hours together, if your friends hadn’t already decided their altruistic grace periods had hit their limits.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie grumbles, looking over your plethora of notifications, “Fifty fucking texts. Seven missed calls. We’re fucked,” When you let out a sharp laugh, he looks up from the screen at you, furrowing his brows, “What’s so funny?”

“Can you imagine making it halfway only to fuck up because we were getting along too well?” you snort, unable to help yourself. Twelve hours. You two had managed what already felt impossible, only to screw it all up because you two couldn’t keep it in your pants. Maybe if you admitted that to your friends, they would let the bet continue. You can already imagine Robin’s yips of glee at the prospect.

Eddie’s worrisome look begins to crack, the corners of his mouth twitching, “I… That would… suck.”

His voice is wavering, barely able to keep it together and withhold his own amusement as you beckon for him to hand over the phone, both of you sitting back on the couch, thighs pressed together.

“Suck is one way to put it,” you giggle, barely glancing at the missed notifications, “Seriously. We made it this far. And it’s not like we weren’t together… We were. A little too literally.”

If this is the closest you two come to talking about it, you can handle that.

Eddie finally barks out a laugh, “Yeah. Maybe we took the bet too literally.”

“Just a little bit,” you shimmy a shoulder against his, forcing all laughter and smiles and drowning out any worries that continued to persist in your chest. Now wasn’t the time. This was enough. You can handle it.

Your phone lights up with a Facetime call, making both of you jump.

Robin.

“Oh, no,” you groan, eyes pinching shut.

“It could be worse,” Eddie notes, leaning into your space. His side presses into yours and it makes you want to die, “At least it’s just Buckley.”

You shake your head, ignoring the burn he ignites in you with every slight touch still, grumbling, “Right, it’s just Buckley.”

The two of you had sex. It should be out of your system. There was no need to continue to feel goosebumps raise when his shoulder knocked yours, when his knee slotted up against yours. It has to be out of your system.

You swipe your thumb to answer the call against your better judgment.

“Oh my God, you two idiots are alive! I swear to God, we thought you two killed each other! I almost had to go across the hall and have Steve predial for the cops if you two didn’t answer, I-”

Robin’s rambling begins without so much as a hello. She’s speaking a mile a minute, taking no breaks, no pauses, no breaths, as you stare blankly at the screen where she’s half hidden in the shadows of her dark room.

“Jesus,” Eddie whispers, eyebrows raising. You watch him through the screen, afraid to turn your actual face towards him. You don’t trust yourself. It should be out of your system, but it isn’t. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone talk so fast-”

“Fuck off, Munson,” despite Eddie’s effort to keep his voice low, Robin picks up on his words mid-rant, “My point is, we were worried. Why didn’t you send your photo or answer any calls?”

“We forgot,” you supply lamely. You catch Eddie’s fight against a smirk as he coughs over the beginnings of a scoff, and immediately shoot your elbow that’s out of frame into his side.

Robin narrows her eyes at the screen, “You just forgot? How? No offense, but I can’t see you two getting distracted, especially with each other. We’ve all been under the assumption you just… sit on opposite sides of the room, and pretend the other doesn’t exist.”

Eddie coughs again, followed by a grunt from another pierce of your elbow.

“Have you considered that we might have been sleeping?”

“You don’t look like you’ve been sleeping.”

“I’m so glad that you’re all-knowing, Buckley,” Eddie says as he composes himself, “Where would we be without a sleep expert?”

You finally turn your head to glare at him face-to-face rather than through the screen, trying to warn him to back off. Robin could go hours in the ring with Eddie, and you weren’t exactly in the mood to listen to the two banter off each other. He meets your warning gaze with wide eyes, almost as innocent as a child caught in the act. You can’t even stay mad at him – the moment those autumn brown eyes meet yours, soft and gooey and terribly laced with tempting gold, you’ve melted for him. All your defenses fall.

You need to talk about it. You need to know if he means it.

“What does that even mean?” You ask as you slowly turn your head away from Eddie, “What exactly are we supposed to look like after sleeping?”

“I don’t know. Messy hair, squinty eyes, maybe some dried drool and appearing more… more… caught off guard?” Robin rattles off her list as she stares at them through the screen, shifting around from where it looks like she’s laying in bed, “Actually, now that I’m saying all this outloud, maybe you guys were sleeping,” you and Eddie freeze up in sync. Technically, you two could pass off as the Facetime being a rude awakening in your mutual dishevelment – both your hair and Eddie’s was messy as could be, shirts looking to be twisted from putting them on so carelessly. Hell, at your own detrimental embarrassment, you bet Robin would spot dried drool on your face if she looked close enough. Just not for the reasons she would believe, “Shit, yeah, okay. I believe you guys. You were sleeping. Our bad.”

Just as you sigh in relief, Eddie’s face blooms with a wicked grin.

“That or we were fucking.”

It comes to your attention now that it is very hard to decipher when Eddie is joking. You wonder just how many times you had misinterpreted his sarcasm, how many times he had said a blatant truth only for you to take it for a grain of salt.

Most of all, you wonder if Robin catches your distress at him actually exposing you two. You don’t even have it in you to shove your elbow especially painfully into his side this time, completely dismayed and unsure of what to say.

She doesn’t catch it. She only snorts, rolling her eyes, “Right. Of course – or that.”

You’re still unable to respond as Eddie continues to grin, laughing along with Robin, including her in an inside joke she had no idea of her involvement in. She has no idea.

Because you guys were fucking. You’d had sex with Eddie, let him use you and throw you around like a goddamn rag doll. And now, here he was, so casually joining around with your mutual friend about it as if it were some absurd dream. Some stupid joke, some unreasonable thought of something that could never possibly happen.

“Okay, well I’ll let you guys go back to bed-”

“Or jumping each other’s bones,” Eddie interrupts Robin.

She makes an exaggerated gagging noise, though the corners of her mouth are pulled up in a smile, before continuing, “And I’ll let everyone know we probably won’t get an update for the next hour. Just… don’t kill each other, alright? Who knows, maybe you guys can even become friends?”

You wait for Eddie to take the punch line of something along the lines of being friends with benefits, to make a spectacle yet again of what had just transpired to an unsuspecting Robin.

It meant nothing to him. It was all a joke to him.

“See ya, Robs,” you offer weakly, numbly, hardly able to raise a hand to wave her off. You know that to her, this is just a symptom of fatigue. The type of tired solved by crawling back into bed and sleeping it off. She’s not worried; she even grins wider as she says her final goodbyes to you and Eddie before the call ends.

Eddie knows better than Robin.

He waits a few seconds after the call has ended and his apartment has fallen silent again, watching your slow movements as you sit your phone down on the arm of the couch.

You lied to yourself, clearly. This incessant ache in you, this question that has begun to run laps in your mind, will never be satiated or sedated through joking discussions of what happened. You can’t pretend like your hips won’t carry invisible scars for the rest of your days from where Eddie’s hands scorned you, you can’t forget how his lips fit against yours in a movement easier than breathing. Kissing him, holding him, filling him had been more effortless than filling your lungs with the air necessary for survival. And you hadn’t caught onto it in the moment, hadn’t recognized your mistake and stopped this train from running off its tracks quicker than you could handle.

That’s all it was. A trainwreck. You and Eddie were a trainwreck, and the only casual so far it seemed was you.

An explosion. A glass wall. A tormented ocean. Every single transaction between you and him ended with you wounded, never him.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks when you suddenly stand from the couch, not really sure of where you were going to go but no longer capable of just sitting and thinking, pondering, drowning.

“Fine,” you curtly reply, deciding the kitchen might be a good place to start. Get a glass of water, gulp it down instead of false hope or fake niceties Eddie was probably going to shower you with now.

Or maybe there would be no face niceties. Maybe he’d go back to being cruel, and in that, not realize he was being kind to you and your heart that had grown too heavy over the last twelve hours.

“You don’t look fine,” he persists, and follows you. It nearly sparks irritation. But of all the emotions rushing through you right now, you don’t have the energy to spare for petty irritation.

“Then stop looking,” you sigh as your eyes trace over his cabinets, trying to remember which one holds his glasses. He gets too close too fast, coming up behind you and opening one of the cabinets as if he was reading your mind. A collection of mugs, plastic cups, and crystal glasses alike line the shelves. You focus on them rather than him.

“What’s wrong?” he insists, actually starting to get on your nerves now.

You didn’t want to tell him what’s wrong, because it was stupid. The most predictable cliche has come to fruition, and you only have yourself to blame. The anger he’s assuming is his fault is just misdirected. You just needed to get your emotions under control – if you could accomplish that, you could survive these last few hours.

“It’s nothing,” you push back, finally looking at him. You worry for a second that you might be teary eyed, but you know better. Your corneas burn, everything aches, but your vision is clear as day. He’s clear as day, and it makes the ache all the more unbearable, “I’ll get over it.”

You’re not supposed to want him this way. You’re supposed to hate him.

He stiffens, “Get over what?”

“It.”

“I-” he stammers at your vague response, mouth pressing into a harsh line as his eyes narrow, “Jesus Christ, how are you still this fucking stubborn? After everything that’s happened tonight? After everything that happened in the last hour?”

“I’m not stubb-” you fruitlessly try to correct, but he bulldozes on without listening.

“I thought after I had been balls deep in you, maybe we had made some progress – maybe we could be friends-”

“Are you fucking joking?” you scoff, trying to properly process the sentence he’d just said and not get hung up on him using the phrase balls deep, “I- No, okay? Sex doesn’t mean friendship, Eddie. That’s not how this works.”

“Then how does it work?” if you were stupid, you’d assume he was begging, “Please enlighten me. How do I get you to trust me?”

“Why do you need my trust so badly?” you snark back. Misdirected anger, and he’d put himself directly in the line of fire, “Why do you want that of me so goddamn badly when it’s clear that after tonight, we’ll pretend all of this never existed?”

He steps back as if you slapped him. As if he hadn’t been the one just making a mockery of whatever was happening between the two of you.

“You said it yourself,” you continue to ramble, waving around a previously fisted hand, “It changes nothing. And it’s not your problem that I struggle with that. I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at myself – there’s a difference.”

“It doesn’t feel like there’s a difference,” Eddie immediately snaps, “You’re mad because I said… I said that? Because I said your words back to you? Because if you can recall correctly, sweetheart, you’re the one that said it all means nothing first.”

The misdirected anger is starting to feel perfectly directly with each word that leaves his mouth, “Because you asked me if it all meant nothing first. They’re still your words, not mine!”

“I only asked that because you’ve made it very clear that you enjoy hating me.”

“You think I enjoy this?” your voice breaks with emotion, taking a step closer to him. Your toes brush his, “You think I enjoy all this fighting with you? You think I enjoy seeing you act like it’s painful to be in a room with me for more than a few seconds at a time?”

His hardening gaze, his hands twitching at his sides, the lilt of his mouth as the corner folds downward. Now that you’ve tasted him, you could never erase yourself of him.

“You really want to know what I think?” he’s not screaming like he should be. The two of you should be shouting to the ceilings, screaming until the surrounding neighbors could hear you. You want to yell until your lungs give out and noise complaints have been filed, but he’s not having it. He’s quiet as he takes the next step closer. His head dips in closer to yours, lips nearing the shell of your ear, “Do you truly want to know what I think about all of this?”

“Yes,” you whimper out, the need for yelling being swallowed down for the time being, “That’s all I want.”

It’s true. You don’t know if he can see it, the crack in your composure as you admit it, but it’s the truth. You want to see inside his mind, watch the mechanics ticking in real time. You need to know his every single thought and feeling so badly, your hands shake.

“I think,” his voice comes out as a husky whisper directly against your ear, chest just shy of brushing against yours, “you never really hated me, baby,” he pauses, and one of his hands come out to your hips, grabbing you and pulling you in closer to him, “I think, you just wanted me so badly, it made you into a dumb, angry slut.”

“You’re cocky,” you shakily laugh. You need to stop this. You need to push him away, save yourself.

You lean into his touch and silent commands, pressing up into him. Going as far as to stand up on your tip-toes so that your nose brushes against his neck.

“Am I?” he chuckles, and the sound shoots straight to your core.

You need to push him away. You need to put distance. You need to remember this means nothing.

“You asked me what I thought, sweetheart,” he goes to pull away, and you follow, “And I’m nothing if not an honest man.”

It means nothing. You can deal with your own ramifications tomorrow. You can work through the catastrophe relief come tomorrow afternoon, nurse away the heartbreak and sore disappointment.

You have him for one night. One night. To let him slip away from you is to waste it.

“Honest?” you try to scoff, but it comes out a breath against his skin, both hands now wrapping around your waist as he turns the two of you and cages you against the counter, “You… You can’t even honestly tell me why you hate me. You have to use some bullshit excuse.”

His hands rake down your sides before cupping beneath your thighs, lifting you to sit on the counter. He’s fucking smirking. Completely unaffected by your words.

“Would you like me to be honest now, doll?” he rasps, leaning back to take you in, “Or would you rather me eat that poor pussy right here, right now, on this counter?”

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#twenty four hours #my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie is such a fuckin idiot

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dreamingundone · 1 year ago

Text

When The Morning Comes

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OFC (could be read as reader-insert, no use of Y/N) Summary: Jake doesn’t do serious. He was really upfront and honest about that. So why is he he one getting really tired of saying goodbye every morning? Rating: PG-13 for swears. Words: 3K+ Author’s Note: Here I am again writing fic in the year 2023 because I haven’t stopped thinking about Jake Seresin since last summer. This is slightly Band of Brothers adjacent because I’m incapable of putting away that particular hyper-fixation but you don’t need to know anything about it to understand this. Disclaimer: I don’t own the character Jake or Top Gun: Maverick. Please don’t re-post or translate my work without my permission. There's probably some inaccuracies here though I did my best to Google a few things, but even so, please be nice.

He watches her as she works out of the corner of his eye. He tells himself that he's not seeking her out every time he wanders the corridors at the hangar, but it just happens.

She's impossible to ignore.

There's a sinking feeling in his gut as she very much doesn't make eye contact with him, and in fact, she brushes by him as she leaves the room without so much as a glance.

"All set?" He asks Rooster gruffly, who arches an eyebrow.

"Didn't think you cared so much, Hangman." He gets up from the exam table, hands brushing over the thin line of stitches near his eyebrow.

Jake rolls his eyes.

"Oh!" Rooster says suddenly, eyes lighting up. "It's not me you're here for--"

"Shut up."

Bradshaw's not lying though, which makes Jake grit his teeth even harder.

"Secret's safe with me." He says with a wink, leaving Jake standing in Sick Bay by himself, questioning basically every life decision he's made to get to this point.

Six months earlier

"Listen up!" Maverick calls over the din, and when he can't get anyone's attention except for Dagger Squad, Admiral Bates does the job with a sharp whistle.

The hangar goes quiet, and they sit quietly as they listen to the mission briefing. Three months of training, and then they'll be shipped out to God knows where for God knows how long.

While he's pretty used to this particular way of life by now, he sees some of the other squads he doesn't know sharing nervous looks.

There's a group standing closer to the door that he's never had the pleasure to interact with - the medical staff from Sick Bay. The doctors look bored, but there's a new medic who's caught his eye from the minute he walked into the room.

She's taking notes or something, and Jake smirks as she looks up, meeting his eyes briefly. She rolls her eyes and looks back to her notebook, which only makes him smile wider.

He introduces himself the first time he gets a chance, later at the Hard Deck.

"I'm Jake," he says, holding out a hand.

"Good for you." She says, not looking up from her phone.

"Waiting on someone?"

"Someone else, definitely."

There's something about the way she says it - there's no heat in her words really, even though he knows she's trying to put him off. Look -- everyone thinks Jake is an asshole, and he knows he can be sometimes, but he doesn't want to stick around where he's clearly not wanted, even if all he wants to do is sit here with her and learn everything there is to know about her.

"Enjoy your drink," he says, and leaves her there looking a little surprised, if the crease between her brows is any indication.

It's a few days later when he has an excuse to see her again, though not under the circumstances he would have wished.

He's being semi-held up between Javy and Rooster, and he's scowling. "I'm fine," he grumbles.

"Sure, tell that to the control panel you smashed your head off of." Javy says, and Jake would roll his eyes, it's just that he can't really see straight, so he thinks he'd just pass out.

Okay, so he had to emergency land. At least he didn't have to eject.

"Put him here." He hears her voice, kind but authoritative. "Lieutenant Seresin, I thought I told you the other night I wasn't interested."

Javy snorts, and Rooster bites back a grin.

"Desperate times calls for desperate measures." Jake says, groaning as he lies back on the exam table.

Then she's there, looming over him, and the irony isn't lost on him that this is the first time she's looking him directly in the eye. Well, her and her flashlight, anyway.

"Pupils a bit larger than I'd like." She mutters. He finds himself really unable to do anything other than watch her as his vision wavers. "Concussion, obviously." She says. "Is the light bothering you?"

"A little." He answers.

She hums in sympathy. "You need stitches. Give me a minute." She says, and then her warmth is gone, and the bright light overhead is all he can see, making him close his eyes.

He sighs. This really isn't the impression he wanted to make.

Dimly, he registers Javy and Rooster leaving the room, saying they needed to go tell the rest of the Daggers how he was doing. He's sure Phoenix and Bob are pacing somewhere. Mav, too.

"Stupid." He mutters.

"What?" She asks, sounding offended.

"Nothing. Not you." He says, eyes opening as she leans over him again, hissing when she wipes an antiseptic over his forehead. "A little warning would have been nice."

"Don't be a baby." She chides, face full of determination. "Stay still."

He lets her work for a few minutes before he tries again. "I meant that I felt stupid for this."

She meets his eyes quickly. "Sounded like you did what you had to do so you didn't kill yourself."

"You were listening?" He asks, surprised. He feels dumber that he didn't realize that. Of course the medics were on standby.

"It's my job." She says. She pauses for a minute, glancing at her wrist. Her wristwatch is turned the wrong way round, so the face of it is on the inside. It's very military, and it makes him smile. It's how he can spot another Navy guy a mile away.

Hers is different than his, though, the face worn and scratched.

"Is that thing even ticking?" He asks as she gets back to work.

Her tongue is between her teeth as she completes the next few stiches, the sight making him a little distracted.

"It was my great-grandfather's."

He feels like he's bothering her, so he doesn't ask any more questions, but she surprises him by continuing.

"He's the reason I wanted to get into medicine. He was an Army medic."

"And that was his service watch?"

"Made it through the drop to Normandy and back."

Jake's eyebrows rise. "A paratrooper."

She nods. "He died before I was old enough to figure out what I wanted to do, but this watch has kept on ticking. Feels like I've got him over my shoulder advising me on what to do."

"That's really nice." Jake says honestly, and again he catches a surprised look on her face.

"I'm sorry," she says, maybe seeing the way his features droop. "You can sit up," she says off-hand before continuing. "I wasn't really fair to you. I've just-- to be honest, I've heard some things. Made me think..."

Jake nods. He knows what everyone says. And to be fair, he's never given anyone other than his friends any reason to doubt the rumors about him. What's the point? He'd rather let everyone on North Island think what they want than spending time fighting his reputation. It's not worth it, especially when he leaves often for months at a time.

"Anyway. That wasn't fair. I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, pasting on a smile he doesn't really feel. "No harm done. I don't really... I don't really do serious. So the rumors aren't far off." He doesn't know why he says it. It's the truth - he's scared of getting attached. He's no good at being someone's boyfriend and he knows it. But still -- it feels weird to say it out loud to her.

"Well. Okay then, Lieutenant. You're going to be grounded for awhile, unfortunately. Come back next week and we'll see how you're doing."

Over the next few weeks, they do more mission prep, which means the medical team and the Daggers are together more often than not. They'll all be together as a wing on the carrier, and it's important that everyone knows all the details of every minute of the mission.

They have enough downtime too, and that's where he really finds himself in deep trouble. All because of her.

Phoenix has taking a liking to her, and really, everyone else has too. It's hard not to like her.

He's watching her now, contemplative eyes as he tilts his beer bottle back to his lips, and his heart does a funny little flip at the sound of her laugh.

He's surprised when she makes her way over to him at the end of the night, elbowing him lightly.

"All alone, Hangman?"

He smiles wryly. "Only got room in my heart for one lucky lady, Doc."

The nickname was her great-grandfather's, and it's stuck to her too. The first time Mav called her that, she got a little misty-eyed, and Jake found it so endearing he could barely look at her.

She rolls her eyes. "You get back up in the air tomorrow."

He nods, having been cleared by the medical team earlier that day. He can't wait. He misses the adrenaline and the sound of the engines roaring underneath him.

"Thanks to you," he says, nudging her in return. She'd been like a drill sergeant the last few weeks, watching him like a hawk to make sure he stuck to paperwork and didn't overwork himself while he recovered from his concussion.

"Just doing my job." Her standard answer. He thinks it's interesting that someone so confident has a hard time accepting any praise.

"No, it's something else." He says, taking another pull from his bottle. "You were born to do this, I think. You've got a special touch."

She blinks rapidly, and for a horrifying moment, he thinks she might cry. She clears her throat. "How many of those have you had?" She gestures towards the bottle in his hand. "I said one beer, Seresin."

"Not even a full one." He assures her. "And I mean that, Doc."

The way she's looking at him sends his heart racing. Is she--? No, he's imagining it, that she looks like she's leaning in a little, her lips parted invitingly. That's impossible.

"Thank you, Jake." She says softly, and it's the first time she's ever called him by his first name. It takes everything inside of him to stop from leaning into her a little bit more, and in the end he doesn't fight it.

They sit there, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, in a comfortable silence for the rest of the night. And if her pinky brushes his just a little on the bartop, he doesn't draw attention to it. He just lets it happen, enjoying the warmth unfurling inside of him.

The briefing where they get their assignments for the mission is tense. This is a dangerous one. Top secret, and not even the medic team is allowed in the room with the Daggers while they get briefed.

There's some speculation that they won't even come along - that this mission is so secret, the fewer eyes on it, the better.

It makes something twist inside him, the thought that he might not see her until he comes home from deployment. He hasn't had that feeling in a really, really long time.

Afterwards, he's wandering the corridors aimlessly when he quite literally runs smack into her.

"Oh!" She says, surprised, and he grabs at her arms instinctively, holding her upright.

"Sorry, Doc."

"Are you okay?" She asks, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Fine. I--" He looks up, meeting her eyes. "Will you go to dinner with me?"

She swallows. "What?"

"Look, I'm not looking for anything serious. I'm starting to think you aren't either. But I also like you, and I'd like to take you to dinner. If you want." It all comes out in a rush.

"Okay." She says quietly.

"Okay?"

"Okay." She repeats.

They don't even make it through dinner.

He's so distracted by the sight of her in civilian clothes that he can barely form a coherent sentence all night.

It must show on his face, and he really feels like an asshole for it, but she also responds to it, so he doesn't stop himself from staring at her, not this time.

Somewhere in the middle of the dinner course, she puts down her fork. "Are you going to take me home now?"

He doesn't think he's ever scribbled his signature on a check so fast in his life.

After that it's all a blur of heated gazes, wandering hands, and finally, mouths meeting. It's all flushed skin and, for Jake, trembling hands. He tries not to examine that particular fact too much.

In the morning, she leaves before he wakes up. He feels a little weird about it, but it's also how it has to be. It's how he's always done things. And if that's good for her too, even better.

They go on like that for weeks. He tries not to think about how each morning it's harder and harder to watch her get dressed in the haze when she thinks he's still asleep.

He tries not to think about how she always looks back over her shoulder before she goes, something soft in her eyes.

He tries not to count down the days between now and his deployment date.

On a Friday morning, he's making no show of the fact that he's awake when she slides out from under the sheets and starts dressing.

"You could stay." He says, voice a little hoarse.

She pauses, but pulls her shirt over her head. "Don't do that." She says, voice quiet but firm.

"Just for breakfast."

"This is what you wanted, Jake. I'm just trying to make this easy for both of us."

His face twists. "And I can't change my mind?"

"Actually, no." She says, voice harsh. "Because you've said to me a hundred times that you weren't looking for anything serious. Staying longer, spending days together... that's serious. I'm just doing what you wanted."

Maybe I don't want that anymore. The thought rattles around in his brain, but he doesn't say it.

"It doesn't have to mean anything." He says without thinking, and the look she gives him is withering.

"You've been doing your best not to let any of this mean anything, Seresin."

"We're going by last names now?"

"For fuck's sake, Jake!" She hisses, tugging her pants on. "I should have trusted my instincts with you. I should have listened to my gut."

He sits up straighter now, hurt lacing his tone. "So you've just been miserable for the last few weeks, right? None of this has been pleasurable for you, and that's my fault."

"I didn't say that."

"You know what? Don't let me keep you. Must have been a moment of insanity." He says, voice hard. "You're right. Keep it simple, keep it meaningless. That's perfect."

She doesn't say anything else as she gathers the rest of her stuff and slams the door behind her.

He doesn't see her again until the final mission briefing before deployment.

They're being deployed to the same carrier. That wasn't supposed to happen. The whole reason he decided to take a chance, to finally act on these feelings that he's afraid to identify... it was spurred on by the idea that he may come back in a year to find her elsewhere.

Their eyes meet across the hangar. There's nothing friendly in them now.

He swallows hard. This is going to be a shit-show.

They're out in the middle of the goddamned ocean when he, yet again, has to race to Rooster's rescue. It's not nearly as terrifying as the last time it happened, but he's still furious at his friend for risking his life once again. Rooster skids into the carrier with his landing gear barely hanging on, and the rough landing has him doing his best impression of Jake himself all those months ago when he nearly smashed his face into the control panel.

He has to help Rooster get to the Sick Bay because he can't do it on his own, and no matter how much he wants to avoid seeing her, he needs to get help, and Doc is the best, there's no doubt about it.

They ignore each other, though he watches her. He can't help it. She handles Rooster like he's the most important person in the room, and it twists something inside Jake, though he knows that's what makes her invaluable.

She leaves before he can say anything to her.

"All set?" He asks Rooster gruffly, who arches an eyebrow.

"Didn't think you cared so much, Hangman." He gets up from the exam table, hands brushing over the thin line of stitches near his eyebrow.

Jake rolls his eyes.

"Oh!" Rooster says suddenly, eyes lighting up. "It's not me you're here for--"

"Shut up."

Bradshaw's not lying though, which makes Jake grit his teeth even harder.

"Secret's safe with me." He says with a wink, leaving Jake standing in Sick Bay by himself, questioning basically every life decision he's made to get to this point.

In the corridor outside Sick Bay, she's lingering. Pacing.

Jake stops. He's not sure how to get past her without speaking to her. And truthfully, he knows he owes her an apology. He owes her more than that, but he doesn't know how.

"He's going to be okay," She says. "Just so you know."

"I know. Had you fixing him up, after all."

"You sounded scared on the comms."

He shakes his head. "He's reckless."

"He's your friend. It's okay to worry." It's okay to feel things, she doesn't say, but he hears it like she shouted it.

He puts his hands on his hips. "I worry a lot, actually. I worry about a lot of things."

She's just watching him warily, and he goes on, actually unable to stop rambling.

"I worried from the second I met you that I was going to fall in love with you, and that's exactly what happened."

Her mouth falls open, and he plows on.

"I worried that if I let myself get too close, I'd never recover when inevitably you found someone better than me. I didn't think we were getting deployed together. I thought I'd never see you again, that I'd come home and you'd have found someone that deserves you. So I put a boundary there, and I never should have. Even when you respected it, I got angry with you. Because I did want more."

"Jake, what the fuck?" She breathes, and he laughs.

"I know. I'm an asshole, and I'm sorry. I just-- I couldn't stop myself. With every little thing I learned about you, I just fell a little harder. And that was never the deal. So even when you acted like... like you could've felt the same way, I didn't give you the chance." He smiles, but it's more like a wince. "Call it self preservation, I guess."

"You're so stupid, Lieutenant Seresin." Her voice is shaky. "As if I would have thought about anyone else for a year, even if we were separated."

His head snaps back up to meet her eyes. "Doc?"

"I've been falling for you this whole time too, you idiot. And the only reason I didn't want to stay that morning was because I'd worked so hard to stop myself wanting more than you were willing to give."

"I'm sorry."

"You keep saying that."

"I can keep saying it, if it helps."

She takes two quick strides in his direction while they're alone, and kisses him. Quick and hard, it sets his skin afire and his heart pounding.

"Back to work, Hangman." She says against his lips as she lowers herself down to her feet. "We'll talk about this later." Her thumb presses into the dimple on his cheek.

"If I have to, Doc." He says, and this time when he watches her walk away, he knows it's for the last time.

He's not going to let her out of his sight for a long time, if he can help it.

#hangman x oc #jake seresin x oc #top gun maverick fanfiction #HELP I'VE WRITTEN FIC AGAIN #you can thank my obsession with G.P. for this one

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onemustalwaysbecarefulofbooks · 7 months ago

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RANT TIME

If I see one more person say that the reason Rhys seemed different and less likeable in ACOSF is because we’re seeing him from Nesta’s POV and not Feyre’s, I’m going to go feral.

I’m sorry, I know we find ways to blame Nesta for absolutely everything under the sun, but are we now also trying to claim that she is able to control Rhys’s words, decisions, and actions??? PLEASE BE SO FOR REAL. I do not dislike Rhys because Nesta thinks unfavorably of him and her mental commentary is somehow swaying me. I dislike him because of the things he DOES and SAYS. Nesta does not like Rhys and makes this clear to everyone. But for God’s actual sake…her opinion of him does not control his choices and actions. The story SJM wanted to tell was going to happen, regardless of who’s POV we see it from.

AND, as if that weren’t enough, there are PLENTY of scenes where he acts deplorable and the POV is Cassian’s, not Nesta’s!!! And as we all know, Cassian is so far up Rhys’s butt he can probably see out his mouth. So explain that one to me, please!

Now, does Rhys appear noticeably different in ACOSF than he does in previous books? Absolutely! I am in complete agreement that ACOMAF!Rhys would never handle Feyre’s pregnancy the way he does in this book (The conversation a lot of people are really not ready to have is that Tamlin would be the one to behave this way while Rhys would be the one who swoops in to let us all know how degrading, condescending, and chauvinistic his behavior was and that he would be the one to treat her with agency and respect and would never coddle her and lie to her about her health and her body because she was strong and she could take it).

(Tell me I’m wrong, I dare you!)

So, is Rhys different from how he is in previous books? Yes. But this is not because we are in the POV of someone who doesn’t like him. It’s because SJM’s handling of him is beyond bizarre, and at this point almost has me convinced he is her tool in some kind of social experiment she’s conducting on manipulation and brainwashing in literature. It’s as if she is testing to see how far she can push, how insufferable and hypocritical can she make him behave while still demanding through the narrative that we love and adore him. I used to swear this was not intentional on her part, that she really did think as highly of him as she appeared to, but his behavior as of late has gotten so absurd, it’s honestly beginning to make me wonder if some of this IS intentional and is part of a bigger process. I can only hope that it is.

So no, Rhys does not seem different and less likeable simply because we are seeing him through Nesta’s eyes. He seems different and less likeable because he IS different and less likeable, and a hypocrite to boot. No matter who’s POV we are seeing it from, he does and says insufferable and hypocritical things all throughout the story. But the cult following that this man has is unmatched, and so many people are literally incapable of admitting they feel any kind of distaste for him or that he may have done something wrong. So instead the response becomes “He just seems that way because we’re in Nesta’s POV and Nesta doesn’t like him.”….as if being in Nesta’s head creates some kind of opitical illusion where Rhys’s behavior isn’t real. Whatever makes you feel better, I guess!!

#acotar critical #acosf critical #sjm critical #nesta archeron #anti rhysand #nesta deserves better #acosf #pro nesta

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yujo-nishimura · 1 year ago

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Red Hair or Red Nose?

Comment: I haven't written anything like this in 20 years, so please be gentle with me and my attempt to be creative. ;) Buggy, Shanks x fem reader - I had the idea that the real reason for their rivalry was a love interest. This is rather fluffy and romantic, I tend to write SFW but I might continue adding some spice later.. ;)

Also don't hate me for the title <3

Warning: English is not my native language, I only write for the enjoyment, I have been a One Piece fan for 20 years, but not as dedicated as I am supposed to. ;)

It has been several years since you made the decision to part ways with the Red-Haired Pirates and embark on your own journey. The initial entertainment of the constant rivalry between Shanks and Buggy, which was funny at first, had gradually transformed into a farce that grew increasingly tiresome. As a young girl, you felt incapable of pledging your loyalty to either of these captains. Instead, you held your own vision of adventure and exploration on the Grand Line.

Having spent some years on Gold D. Roger's ship, you reached a point where you felt it was time to forge your own path. With a heavy heart, you bid farewell to your fellow crew members, leaving behind a profoundly saddened Shanks and a furious Buggy. You recognized that it was necessary to discover your true self and create some distance from those who sought to control and dictate your life.

However, deep down, you held onto the hope that someday you would cross paths with your childhood friends once more. You eagerly anticipated that, as they matured, Shanks and Buggy would overcome their rivalry and conflicts, transforming into an unbeatable duo, renowned as the most daring and fearless pirates on the Grand Line.

Little did you expect that fate would bring you together again, reuniting all three of you in one location. To your dismay, you discovered that nothing had changed in their immaturity and insatiable desire to outdo one another. The relentless competition and quarrels went on, defying your hopes for a more harmonious reunion.

Seated in a cozy pub within a small town, you found yourself taking a break while your modest crew of five ventured out to gather supplies for your journey. Beside you, the navigator quietly sipping his drink, engrossed in studying the surrounding islands' charts. With a sense of tranquility, you sipped on your third whiskey, relishing the calm that washed over you. The previous days at sea had been harsh and tiresome, and this brief intermission served as a well deserved break.

Reflecting upon your role as captain, you couldn't help but acknowledge the absence of a warning about the challenges and responsibilities that would accompany your departure from Gold D. Roger's crew. Sometimes you were just really tired and wished you had chosen a different path. Not being the one to everybody was relying on, but having someone to rely on yourself. Your crew loved you and was loyal, but you knew that it was not always easy to make the right decisions.

Amidst the silence, your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a quarrel coming from outside. A distinct laughter, filled with warmth and familiarity, pierced through the peaceful atmosphere, contrasting against an enraged voice that screamed:

"What did you say? You were lying about the treasure map? Damn you!"

"It was a spur of the moment thing, Buggy!"

As the words reached your ears, a surge of disbelief washed over you, leaving you momentarily speechless. The voice, the name—it couldn't be true! In an instant, you rose from your seat, causing your navigator to stumble in surprise. "Captain...?" With determination across your face, you swung open the pub's door, your eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before you.

There they stood, the two individuals you hadn't laid eyes upon in years. Buggy the Clown, his face split by an angry grin, standing confidently at one end, his blue hair hidden under his hat. Shanks, the charismatic captain of the Red-Haired Pirates, standing at the other end, his trademark red hair shining in the moonlight.

As your gaze fixed upon the grown men before you, disbelief washed over you once more. Both Shanks and Buggy had transformed into striking individuals, tall and muscular. Shanks, draped in a dark cape, possessed an air of tranquility and composure that radiated from him and his charming smile. In contrast, Buggy's flamboyant attire, adorned with vibrant colors, accentuated his clown nose and his face adorned with flashy makeup. They were undeniably stunning.

A gulp escaped your throat as a peculiar sensation stirred within you, similar to fluttering butterflies or perhaps little caterpillars partying in your intestines. It might also just be the Whiskey. When had those two teenage boys blossomed into these charismatic pirate captains? And more importantly, when would they notice your presence, frozen in astonishment, between their encounter?

To be continued...

#buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggytheclown #one piece buggy #red haired shanks #shanks x reader #shanks one piece #one piece

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misc-obeyme · 1 year ago

Note

"i just think barbatos would tease you about being thirsty" HE WOULD BE SO CRUEL ABOUT IT I SWEAR- he would love to see you desperate and begging before calmly asking how he can be "of help" to you

akdflkjfd anon please my imagination can't handle the brain rot and I'm supposed to be working on upcoming kinktober stuff…

I am obsessed with Barbatos just making you beg and being kinda mean by denying you until you can't take it anymore.

Okay okay, I couldn't help myself, here's some quick smut about it. It's short, but if I had more time he would've made it go on for much longer lol.

GN!MC x Barbatos

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: teasing, penetration (reader receiving), a little bit of biting

When Diavolo asked you to stop by the Demon Lord's Castle to pick up some paperwork for Lucifer, you were happy enough to oblige. But when you knocked on the door and it opened to reveal Barbatos, you were suddenly questioning your decision. He had removed his jacket, the sleeves of his green shirt rolled up. It was rare to see him like this. He was even missing his gloves and you couldn't help but blush at the sight.

He smiled at you. "MC. Forgive me. I was just about to begin deep cleaning the kitchen. Would you like to come in?"

You nodded, coming inside and letting him close the door behind you. You couldn't quite look at him, afraid your desire would be too obvious.

"Um," you said. "Lord Diavolo has some paperwork for Lucifer?"

Barbatos hummed a little in confirmation. "Indeed. However, it seems you may not be fit to be in the Young Master's presence at this moment, wouldn't you agree?"

Your blush deepened. As though you weren't already hot and bothered enough, he was telling you directly that he could tell. Your thirst was evident to him and he probably knew it was all due to him showing a little more skin than usual.

"It isn't my fault," you said. "Have you seen yourself?"

Barbatos chuckled. "You are the one who is currently incapable of controlling your thoughts."

You huffed and turned away, the blush still warming up your skin. You took some deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself down. "You could help me out, you know."

You felt a hand on the small of your back. It was a light touch, barely anything, but something about the steadiness of it made you freeze. You shivered as the hand moved around your waist, dipping into the waistband of your pants before retreating again. It rested on your hip and you felt heat at your back as his body came close.

"Do you wish to be a little naughty, MC?" he whispered in your ear.

You almost moaned, but you managed to bite it back. "Please…"

"Please?"

"Please stop teasing me," you said, pushing your body back into his, feeling his erection pressed against you.

His arms wrapped around you easily, caging you in. He pressed feather light kisses up your neck and it was barely enough sensation. His fingertips trailed across the top of your pants again, but they went no further. You squirmed, gripping his arms, your nails digging into his skin.

"It had not occurred to me that removing my jacket would have such an effect on you," Barbatos murmured against your neck.

You reached up and tugged on his tie, pulling it over your shoulder in an attempt to get him just a little bit closer. "Please, Barbatos, I can't take it…"

"How can I be of help to you?" Barbatos asked calmly.

You groaned but it was out of exasperation. "How do you think?" You pressed back into his erection again.

"Very well," he said.

Moments later you found yourself bent over the nearest sofa, moaning as Barbatos finally put his cock inside you. It was so sweet to feel him filling you up after all that desperate desire, his hands gripping your hips as he gave you what you had been begging for.

You held onto the cushion beneath you, your mind going blissfully blank. Barbatos was no longer teasing you, thrusting at a fast pace. He even did exactly as you asked the minute you moaned out, "Harder!"

The pleasure mounted, rising higher and higher, peaking as he wrapped an arm around you to stimulate you further. He seemed to anticipate that you would try to suppress your cries of ecstasy, placing his finger against your lips. You bit down on it hard, tasting a little tang of blood as you did so, but successfully staying quiet as you came undone on his cock.

Moments later his cum was oozing out of you, but Barbatos was quick to clean you up. The teasing smile on his face made you want more, but it was clear from his expression that he expected you to go fetch Lucifer's paperwork.

"I would not normally be so quick to indulge you, but the Young Master is waiting," Barbatos said as he straightened his clothes. "You will have to be satisfied for now, MC."

You wanted so much more, but you knew that he wouldn't give in to you again. You kissed him, lingering on his lips for a moment before making your way toward Diavolo's office.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#you just happened to hit on one of my obsessions anon lol #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me smut #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos smut #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x mc #om barbatos #barbatos obey me #anon asks #misc answers #misc naughty times #misc writes

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flowerandblood · 1 year ago

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The Impossible Choice (25)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, violence, domination ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

She could not hide how much hope and strength the letter from her husband filled her with − she knew that he had not forgotten her, that he still wanted her to be by his side. She thought strenuously throughout the day about how to do this, who to turn to. She realised that after what Aegon had said to her, he would never let her join her husband, terrified of his anger if she passed on him his words.

I fell in love with you from the first sight.

She thought that the King had fallen in love with a fantasy, reinvented it for himself and claimed that if he had her for himself he would be a happy man.

She didn't believe it.

She didn't believe it would make a difference.

She considered asking the Queen for help, but then thought it would be too dangerous − with her approach to loyalty and honour, she would not defy her son-king's orders even if they were wrong.

And then she experienced a revelation.

Helaena.

Everyone underestimated her, thinking that locked away in her world, she didn't understand what was happening aroud her and was incapable of taking any logical action.

They were wrong − the Princess was completely aware of the chaos around her and cut herself off from it of her own accord, devoting herself only to caring for her children.

She will understand me, she thought, feeling warm in her heart.

She will help me.

Her visits to the Princess were her daily routine, so they drew no one's attention − Helaena greeted her with a warm smile and a joy that was now rarely painted on her face. They embraced like friends − Helaena took her hand in hers, directing her towards the carpet where her children were playing.

With a rustle of her brown and gold gown she sat on the floor beside her, watching with a smile as her children played together with wooden blocks, from which they had apparently just constructed some sort of fortress. She looked at Helaena, smiling lightly, trying not to outwardly show how nervous she was.

"My dear Princess, I would like to confide in you about a certain feminine discomfort, that has afflicted me recently. I am ashamed to speak of it −" She did not finish, looking at her meaningfully − the Princess raised a surprised look at her.

Something in her gaze betrayed that she understood her − she turned her head and nodded to her servants to leave.

She swallowed loudly, twisting in her seat, feeling her heart pounding fast. Helaena surprised her by speaking up first, fiddling with a piece of cloth of her gown, that unfolded at her legs.

"− the fire calls to you −" She said softly, and she felt her heart stop at her word. "− the scorched earth will breathe a sigh of relief under the raindrops −"

She looked at her in disbelief − she remembered that she had said something similar at the feast after Aegon's coronation.

Her husband had once told her that Helaena had predicted that he would lose his eye when they were children − she hadn't commented on the statement, not wanting to offend him, but she didn't exactly believe in such things as predicting the future.

Now, however, she wasn't sure if her husband wasn't right.

The fire calls to you.

The scorched earth will breathe a sigh of relief under the raindrops.

She swallowed quietly, gathering the courage to say what she had come for.

"I need your help, Princess. I need to escape from here and join my husband in Harrenhal. You are the only one I trust." She whispered, looking anxiously at the door, hoping no one had overheard them. Helaena looked ahead, thoughtful.

"There is one exit, hidden behind Balerion's skull. You know the place."

She looked at her, shocked.

She had never told her about Aemond taking her to the temple of their ancestors.

"Behind the skull, on one of the walls, there are several niches. Behind one of them is a narrow corridor, leading underground along the Red Keep to a nearby forest." She said calmly, finally looking at her, her bright eyes filled with concern and a warmth from which her heart squeezed.

"− I need a horse −" She whispered, looking at her pleadingly.

Helaena nodded, combing a hand through her son's hair.

"− thank you −"

She returned to her chamber full of energy, wondering what she should take with her; she couldn't weigh herself down too much. She knew that she had to travel in man's clothing − she couldn't draw attention to herself while riding the trail.

She decided that she would pass herself off as one of the servants, accepting jobs with various innkeepers for drink, food and a place to rest. She knew such boys − they often joined her father's company on hunts, serving them, getting food and a little penny in return.

She was glad that she had also brought with her to King's Landing clothes designed for sword fighting − they were much looser and looked boyish, so it was easy by putting on several layers of shirts to hide that she had breasts at all.

She thought of the Witch of Harrenhal, of how, when she got there, she would have nothing more than a training attire to change into.

She knew it was wartime and no one would care, but she wanted to show her who she really was.

She was Prince Aemond's wife.

She decided that she would hide her richest red-brown gown, embroidered with golden threads with beautiful buff sleeves in her bag, along with her most necessary things.

She knew it was her pure feminine whim, but she felt she was entitled to it and smiled with satisfaction at the thought.

What was even more important to her were the weapons − her brother had provided her with a short and a long dagger just before she left, wanting her to be able to at least defend herself in if necessary.

She usually had them tucked away at the bottom of her trunk under her books, but since Aegon's confession she had kept them under her pillow. She dismissed Lyanna early, saying she would go to bed, tired from the day, and began her preparations quietly.

As she had planned, she dressed to look like a boy − she managed to sew a makeshift cap from one of the fabrics, under which she hid her hair.

Looking herself over in the mirror, hidden under layers of different materials, she found with a smile that she really did look like a boy. She had not been so excited about anything since leaving her family home − she could feel the wild blood of the Baratheons rushing through her veins again.

She left the chamber late at night, leaning out uncertainly − she could hear the voices of the guards in the distance who she knew were playing cards at this hour. She moved in the other direction with quiet, unhurried steps, feeling the cold sweat on her back − she knew that one sound too fast and too loud would alarm them and draw their attention.

She turned down the corridor, looking around again, noticing in the torchlight that no one was there. She moved quietly ahead, knowing that around the bend was a staircase that once she ran down, she would be safe − no one would hear her in the underground.

She shuddered when suddenly a guard came out from around the corner − he wasn't wearing armour, so she didn't hear his footsteps. A tall, stocky man with black hair and beard furrowed his brow at the sight of her, surprised and she froze, looking at him with big eyes.

"− who are you, boy? − what are you doing here at this hour? −" He asked in a low, nervous voice, grabbing her arm. She felt her heart squeeze in terror and thought quickly what to say − she swallowed loudly, speaking quickly.

"My father is fighting alongside Prince Aemond in Harrenhal, my Lord. I long to join him − I cannot bear the thought of him being there alone. I am his firstborn son, I should be at his side." She muttered lowly, trying to sound like a boy. The man's gaze dropped to the bag she held in her hands − he pulled out his sword, pointing the blade at it.

"− let me see what you have inside, boy −" He said.

She cursed her stupidity and the fact that she had put her gown inside, knowing that she wouldn't beat him in a fight. She decided that she had to take a risk − she pulled her cap off her head and the man drew in a loud breath, looking at her in disbelief.

"− my Lady − forgive me, I did not recognise you − what −"

"− I must join my husband − he sent me a letter, asking me to travel to Harrenhal, but the King does not give his permission −" She said, pulling a rolled parchment from her pack, looking around, praying that no one else would come across them.

"− my husband believes that my arrival will force my father to make a decision to support his troops − without this, it will take an eternity to suppress the rebellion, even more of our soldiers will die − please −" She lied easily, looking at him pleadingly, grasping his hand in hers. The man was clearly confused − she could see that he was hesitating and she had to take advantage of it.

"− King Aegon has been soliciting me − he has tried to touch me, including in places that only my husband can touch − I beg you, Ser, do not send me back to him, he will take me by force −" She mumbled, tears in her eyes from fear and desperation.

The guard swallowed quietly at her words, evidently understanding and knowing what the King was doing to his servants in his chamber. He looked around the corridor uncertainly

"− gods, have mercy on me − go, my Lady, before I change my mind −" He said impatiently, and she immediately ran down the stairs, feeling her heart pounding hard.

She thought that when she returned she would make this man captain of her guard and shower him with gold.

She ran ahead like mad, putting her cap on her head again, rushing under Balerion's huge skull − she prayed in her spirit that her husband's ancestors would keep her safe.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the alcoves on the back wall and saw that, indeed, behind one of them stretched a narrow, dark corridor, into which she could barely fit. She began to walk down it, until finally there was only darkness around her.

She could hear the strong beating of her heart and felt the terror of seeing nothing in front of her or behind her. She touched the cold stone walls with her hands, exploring the floor in front of her with her feet to make sure that there was no hole she could fall into.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she suddenly felt fresh air and spotted a light around the next corner. She moved swiftly in that direction, feeling like crying out with joy at the sound of rustling trees, spotting the starry night sky ahead.

She let out a loud breath, feeling that she was panting all over, seeing that by a tree nearby stood a beautiful brown horse, saddled and in full gear.

The horse looked completely average and normal, not like a stately steed from a royal stable.

She thanked the gods for Helaena's thoughtfulness.

She tied her pack to the back of the saddle and mounted her horse, looking around. She saw the Red Keep building behind her and realised that she was in the South − she thought with satisfaction that she knew which way to go and set off on horseback ahead, flustered and happy.

She will really see him.

She would join her husband in Harrenhal.

She rode at a gallop, not wanting anyone to stop her, taking advantage of the fact that darkness covered her. She wanted to get there as quickly as possible − she knew that she didn't have much time, and lone wanderers were easy targets for highwaymen.

When she saw the royal road, she thought happily that now the way was easy and she galloped on, wanting to cover the longest possible distance as quickly as possible.

In the morning she stopped at one of the abandoned, burnt-out houses, wanting to take a nap by her horse for a while.

She wondered, looking at this grim sight, if this was the work of her husband.

She woke up once in a while, frightened that someone would spot her − she finally decided it was no use, and her horse rested enough for her to ride on.

She thought that the gods were watching over her, for although she passed carriages and various people, no one stopped her.

It was only near Harrenhal itself, that her husband's soliders with Targaryen crests stood in her way, looking at her watchfully.

"− Who are you, boy, and what do you seek here? −" Asked one of them, riding up to her on horseback. "− turn back if you don't want me to pierce you with my sword −"

She pulled the cap from her hair, the man raised his eyebrows in astonishment.

"− I am the wife of the Prince of Aemond − I come at his request − take me to him −" She said confidently, wrinkling her brows, tired and sleep-deprived after her journey, riding for the last hours in the night and full rain. Several of the men laughed at her words.

"− forgive me, my Lady, but you look to me more like a peasant's daughter than a lord's −" He sneered, looking at her with amusement, her lips tightening.

He wanted to say something already, surely about how he could take care of her body, but he said nothing as she untied her sack and took out a letter from her husband, handing it to him.

"− do you recognise this writing? − do you want to burn in the fire of my husband's rage? −" She hissed, the man looked at each other uncertainly.

"Lead her to the fortress."

The guards rode around her, as if she were a prisoner or hostage. It amused her, but she was also relieved at the sight of the great stone stronghold that she saw before her.

She had made it.

Aegon did not manage to stop her.

She was ushered into a large, larg stone hall, torches lit all around her.

She knew that it was late at night, the sleepy guards looking at her with disapproval.

She felt her heart beating hard with excitement, eager to see his face − nothing else mattered.

She didn't want to listen to his words or explanations.

She just wanted to feel him again.

Suddenly, she heard someone's quick footsteps and turned around, her breath caught in her throat.

He was standing in front of her, staring at her wide-eyed, his lips slightly parted, his chest rising uncertainly in accelerated breathing. She couldn't hold back a smile of emotion, seeing him for the first time in weeks, feeling like bursting into sobs with happiness.

She ran towards him and he moved ahead her like a predator, grasping her in his hands, surprising her with his raspy, almost brutal kiss that took her breath away. She entwined her hand in his hair, reciprocating the caress of his warm, familiar lips fervently, the sticky, loud click of their saliva echoing in her ears like the most beautiful music.

He forced her to step away, her back hit the wall − she felt everything around her spinning, her body filled with nothing but desire, she heard and saw nothing more than his face and his breathing, aroused and accelerated.

She sighed as she felt his fingers quickly untie her corset, spreading it to the sides, his impatient, warm hand squeezed her plump breast and that they both moaned into each other's mouths with pleasure and happiness.

"− get out − all of you −" He hissed out loud, and she felt a thrill of excitement at the thought that he wasn't even going to move to his chamber.

He wanted to take her here, now, immediately.

They were both panting with arousal, her hand ran through his hair, a low, satisfied murmur came from his chest as his lips brushed her neck. She began to breathe faster as the last of the guards left, and he immediately began to untie the material of her breeches. Her fingers reached into his, doing exactly the same, their kisses messy, loud and wet.

She felt her insides clench and pulsate around nothing, craving fulfilment after such a long separation.

Unable to keep her vow, she touched herself almost every night, thinking of him.

"− forgive me − I didn’t mean a word − I swear −" He whispered in low, weak voice, as if emotion squeezed his throat so tightly that he was unable to get anything out. She squealed softly as he lifted her up suddenly in his arms.

She knew what he was going to do and she had never wanted it more.

"− forgive me, my sweetest − it’s all well now −" He exhaled, then with one, sure thrust he opened her wide on his cock, forcing his way inside her − she moaned loudly in delight, clenching her eyes, parting her lips, shocked at how pleasurable this sensation was.

She was so wet that he began to slam into her with ease, imposing an intense, brutal pace on her, his manhood spreading her slick, fleshy walls so much that she couldn't catch her breath.

"− I know − I’m here −" He panted, and she whimpered at his words, giving herself completely to him, writhing beneath him as his fingers dug into the soft skin of her buttocks.

She needed this, needed him inside her, as deeply as possible, to feel again that they were one − her walls pulsed greedily at the thought, her moisture running down her thighs, dripping to the ground each time his body pounded against hers with a sticky slaps.

"− don’t leave me − ah − please, don’t send me back −" She mumbled helplessly, feeling that she wouldn't survive another separation.

She had come such a long way for him, she had done as much as she could, and now all she wanted was to be with him and never leave him again.

She heard him groan low at her words, panting in her ear, his forehead pressed against the stone wall in front of him, his manhood rooting into her with sure, deep thrusts of his hips, making them both groan, giving themselves over to these simple, animal pleasure as if in a trance.

"− never −" He hissed in such a way that shivers run down her spine.

They were both no longer moaning, but almost screaming, seeking their fulfilment, feeling it coming, their sensations so intense that they couldn't breathe, their bodies hot and sweaty.

"− I’m going to fuck you all night − tonight − tomorrow − fuck − the day after tomorrow − do you understand? −" He growled and she whined loudly at his words, clenching her eyes shut, her insides pulsing hard against him, his cock rubbing her where she needed it again and again.

She clamped her hands on his buttocks, letting him thrust into her, panting along with him, sweat running down the back of her neck.

"− yes − please − please − please, fill me −" She sobbed out helplessly, feeling the tension in her lower abdomen reach its zenith, that what she wanted was about to come.

She wanted him to fill her with himself again, to feel that she was all his, that he only wanted and desired her, that nothing else but them mattered.

She felt a shudder run through him, his thighs slapping against her buttocks greedily and loudly, their fingers clenched against their flesh painfully and firmly.

"− g-gods − yes − please − ah! −" She moaned, feeling as a wonderful, overpowering wave of fulfilment and pleasure surged in tickling, hot pulses through her body.

His hands wouldn't let her move an inch, her oversensitive, swollen insides unable to escape his deep thrusts, making her run out of breath in her chest.

"− that’s it − your husband is close −" He whispered so tenderly that she sobbed again, feeling as if she was about to cry, having never felt anything like it before in her life.

It felt like her body was in a state of some kind of euphoria, trembling all over with happiness − she heard his low groan, his hot seed finally spilling inside her.

Gods, she had never felt so fulfilled.

She squealed loudly, gripping him tightly as he fell suddenly to his knees, panting heavily, apparently overwhelmed like her by the intensity of the experience.

They both breathed deeply, embracing one another, cuddled into each other, trying to calm themselves. She closed her eyes, snuggled into his neck, drifting off completely, focusing only on his scent, the warmth of his body and the pounding of his heart. She shuddered when she heard him whisper.

"− we will finish in my chamber −"

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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