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cherryheairt · 4 months ago

Text

Hidden Truths pt.2

Cregan x wife!reader

named reader no description, from house Glover

masterlist

part 1

thank y'all so much for the kind words and eagerness to see this part. Please forgive me for not replying to all asks being sent to inbox, you'll understand with the chap lol. The pressure was so real I had planned to write other things between pt 1 and 2 but I dropped everything to do this between work and sleep lol

changed the og ending because so many people thought it would be more fitting and I agreed lol

anon pointed out my mistake on glover and bolton im so sorry for that confusion yall it is meant to be glover originally. i made too many mistakes im a mess rn

Ernest makes it to Cregan's solar first, Ron not far on his heels. Panting, the younger speaks up first when Cregan Stark shoots them a bewildered look whilst hunched over his oak desk.

"Was Lady Stark due for some business today, My Lord?" He asked, catching his breath as Cregan sat up in his seat, attention fully on the guards.

"Not any that I'm aware of. Where is my wife?" He asked, glancing outside of his small window to the blistering storm outside. There was no way she would be anywhere except her chambers—not after he caught her soothing Brandon to sleep. The sight had melted his heart immediately, glad to see his wife finally finding it in her to go see him, to give him a chance.

Though, he could not blame her, of course. He could still remember the day he brought the Stark babe home, and how he dreaded the meet throughout his months of journeying home to Winterfell.

Aelys had been on the forefront of his mind, even through the slimy politicking of King's Landing. The wait was only made ever longer by the fact that the party Cregan traveled North with had to wait until Brandon was old enough to travel, too. Moons went by painstakingly slow, and Cregan moved to load the carriage for the boy as soon as the Maester gave his word that Bran would not be suseptible to the outdoors during long durations on the road.

Cregan dismounted his grey mare, patting her on the neck in thanks before the stable boy guided her back to her designated place. With a tense sigh, he rolled his shoulders and opened the carriage door that held Brandon and his new wet nurse. Sara, his older sister, would join the family in a few short weeks while she continued her stay at the Blackwood's. He wished she was here to console his wife in the coming days. Gods know that he cannot, not when the news of his betrayal had to come from his own mouth. As he promised himself it should be. The sinner should say his own penance, no one else. A Stark is a slave to his oaths.

Thanking Greya kindly, Cregan picked up Bran in his arms. His onyx black curls shifted against the crook of his arm as he shifted the babe to be held better. The four moon-old babe fussed as he was removed from the woman's comforting hold. As if was, Cregan was more of a stranger to the young babe than his wet nurse was. Unfortunately, the Lord had not spent the amount of time with him as he knew he should have. The thoughts and guilt racked up in his mind and burned at the back of his throat every day, leaving Cregan to promise himself that in Winterfell he would spend more time with him.

Another promise for the list.

Cregan stepped through the courtyard's archway, holding his breath as he watched his beautiful wife standing by the Keep's doors, shivering but still insisting that she come out to meet her husband. Her smile was as lovely and bright as he remembered, a much more contented and relieved smile than she had sent him off to battle with. That day, she could hardly stifle her tears back as she hugged him 'goodbye'. He felt quite the same. Cregan would never leave for Southern business again, not in his lifetime. Once had been enough to last generations, though he was sure the Stark family would not go too long before being summoned again.

Her face shifted from joy to confusion in a matter of seconds. As Cregan continued straight towards her, Bran bundled up in so many wools and pelts that it entirely engulfed the babe. She lifted her skirts to step down to meet him. Originally, Cregan had wished to scoop her up in his arms and place a sweet kiss on her cold lips, but the bundle between them prevented such things. He could not greet her so sweetly and then present the bastard to her. Ripping the bandage off a fresh wound, Cregan would not be deceitful for longer than he had been during his moons of silence in the South.

"Husband," She smiled, reaching out to touch his chilled face, pink in the cheeks and ears from exposure. "You should come inside. A feast has been prepared for you—and your men, of course." She was antsy on her feet, eager to get inside to proper reunite with her husband, no bystanders gawking.

Speaking of bystanders—Cregan's entire party had separated and dispersed around the courtyard. They met their own wives, parents, or children as they laughed and conversed. Though, the loud and joyous clamor soon died down when whispers had been spread around by those who already knew of Cregan's boy. Wives that knew Aelys well stared in pity, clutching their shawls to their chests and shaking their heads quietly at their Lord.

He fought the urge to hang his head.

She had not yet seen the babe, only the cloth surrounding him.

"Cregan?" She whispered, tilting her head with concerned eyes. "What is wrong?" His sweet, sweet wife. Her first priority had been him over anything since the days of their honeymoon—the days she had confessed to be extremely anxious about during their courtship. She was a Northern woman herself, hardened and shaped like an ice sculpture but retaining her warm heart and spirit. Cregan had intimidated her greatly, according to her giggling confession, and she had feared he may be a cruel and selfish man since he could easily do as he wished to his Lady wife. He proved her wrong, apparently, getting to know his wife throughout their private honeymoon. They had a bond like no other, always at each other's side and filling in for the weaknesses of the other during their duties as leaders.

Cregan's brow furrowed deep, blinking away as he felt his nose start to sting.

Only then, when his glossy eyes met hers silently, did she glance down to the cloths. Slowly reaching up a shaky, gloved hand adjusted the pelts so she could peer past them. Gasping at the pale babe, Aelys' eyes sharply met his. A million thoughts raced through her head, clearly showing in her facial expressions. Not assuming the worst, as she probably should have done, Aelys asked, "has one of your men died? Is this babe an orphan?" Always so trusting of her Lord husband, something Cregan had admired and was eternally grateful for throughout their marriage.

"Aelys..." He cleared his throat when his voice came out much too quiet and hoarse. "This is my son." He declared to her, and to the onlooking crowd who did not bother hiding scandalized gasps.

Her eyes blinked in rapid succession, shaking her head lightly and smiling. "Don't jest, Cregan. We have no son."

His silence met her words. When he did not cave and admit to messing with his wife, Aelys shook her head more firmly. "No." She said, whispering. Her eyes clamped shut as she breathed in and out deeply, only opening to glance down at the babe, scrutinizing its appearing and comparing every freckle to Cregan's. "Don't do this to me, please. You would never do this to me." Her words were nearly lost to the air.

"It was one time, I swear it on my honor and Stark name." Cregan told her.

"On your name?" She harshly bit, stepping away from Cregan as if he had burned her. "Your honor? You swore on your honor the day we said our vows under the Weirwood tree. Under OUR Gods. Did that mean nothing to you? Did I—" She gasped out, covering her mouth with the back of her hand and clutching her stomach. A choking sob rippled through her, and Greya stepped forward to gingerly take Brandon from Cregan's grasp. His arms fell to his side, clenching as he stopped himself from holding his wife in comfort. She could find no solace in the man who hurt her so.

"I thought you wished to wait. You told me you wanted it, too. Was it just not me you wanted a family with?" She asked, cranking her neck up to look at her shameful husband.

"Aelys, I did—I do!" He started, stepping forward to wipe a hot tear from her cheek.

Flinching away from his touch, she looked up at him with the same mistrust and solemn acceptance that he found in a dying prey's eyes. Suddenly, Aelys looked to become aware of the crowd. Glancing around self-consciously, she straightened herself upright like the people expected of a Lady Stark. "The feast is growing cold. Enjoy it while it's warm." She loudly adressed the weary party and their families, who awkwardly moved to shuffle inside the dining hall. With a final glance past Cregan's shoulder to the wet nurse, Aelys was gone.

Seeing the shared glances of horror between the two, Cregan cleared his throat. "Where is my wife, boys?"

Ernest swallowed harshly, not daring to look him in the eye. "She—she said that she 'ad business in Winter Town. That you approved of it, I swear!"

Ron nodded so quickly that his head of curls messed about and framed his face further. The snow still on their heads and shoulders had now melted in the warmth of the Great Keep, reminding Cregan of the harsh weather the guards had to bear all day. They were trained and honed for such conditions, Aelys was not.

"Yes, Lord Stark! We couldn't disobey our Lady's words." He insisted.

"You think I'd make my wife go settle business in Winter Town during a blizzard?" He growled out, standing from his seat and storming between them to his doorway, where he turned on them and saw them both flinch in shock. "Which way did she go?"

"Uhm..." they shared another glance. "She said Winter Town, Lord Stark. What other way would she have gone?"

Cursing, Cregan grabbed Ice and lifted the great sword to his shoulder. He left without another word to anybody, knowing every second counted when it came to finding her. "Bloody fools." He scoffed to himself, mind turning and thinking of places she might head to.

Clearly, not Winter Town. She had no business there, not that he knew of, and although they had not been speaking these past moons he still oversaw all of her duties as Lady. Though, her reports of dealings and responsibilities was done through the Maester rather than her own mouth. A middleman, the poor elder had become. Cregan endured the silence without complaint, knowing his own actions brought it upon him.

His actions brought her further away from him than he perhaps estimated. He knew the babe would tear a rift in their relationship, and knew it would take a long time before they could even begin to mend it—but he never wanted it to go this far.

Back to her childhood home, to the Glovers in the Motte? Or, perhaps she found a secret lover that would meet her in the storm like a destined and tragic fairytale. He would not blame her for seeking love in another, though his never faded.

His quickened pace was only interrupted by Sara. "What is the rush for, brother?" The elder woman asked, dark brows furrowed with concern. Other the past four moons she had gained her strength back, looking the picture of health now that she was back home and recovering. Cregan could barely meet her gaze, looking between her and the doors ahead.

"My wife is gone." He told her honestly, shifting impaitiently in place. "I don't know where to, but I'm going to search for her."

Sara's dark eyes saddened, face scrunching up in grief. "This is my fault. I should have—"

Cregan stopped her immediately, taking her firmly by the shoulders and dipping his neck down to level himself. "No. It is mine alone. I made the choice to do this, I shall face the consequences of my actions."

"Cregan..." she sniffed, but did not allow tears to fall so easily.

"I'll be back." He promised. "With my wife."

Was she running away?

Cregan swung open the Great Keep's door, blinking staggardly at the wind gust that slammed into him. Not bothing to close it behind him, Cregan stormed to the stables and tacked his horse up. In a matter of minutes he was off and out of Winterfell's expansive walls.

His only option was to head towards Glover territory. It was a two days ride normally, but the storm would make it double or perhaps longer. She would not be far ahead, not even two hours ahead of Cregan and unknowing of how close he might be on her trail.

There were not even hoofprints left in her wake. The snow immediately covered all tracks and left only pristine fields of white powdery frost.

He would not know where she was until he spotted her amongst the white. Cobalt, her black stallion, was sure to stand out within close enough distance.

Until he did see her, he could only wait.

And it was exactly that; a waiting game. Cregan took only three days to reach the Deepwood Motte, faster than he anticipated. He was weary and exhausted, but still pumping with adrenaline and awake off sheer will. Here, in the safe walls of Harriston Glover's keep, his mare could finally have more than a few measly hours of rest, as well as food and water.

His fingers and toes burned with the edges of frostbite. Even in his thick protective gear, he was not entirely safe. The few, small fires that he built for himself in the cold nights gave him only a semblance of warmth. Each step felt like five as his vision blurred and weaned in and out. He steadied himself on a pole, waiting for his father-in-law to come downstairs to greet him. And, if luck be on his side, his Lady wife.

He owed more than an apology.

Harriston was a stern man, though not unreasonable. He loved his children and ensured they had only the best; education, caretakers, spouses. His eldest two children married long before Aelys was even of age to be wed, both men marrying Northern girls that they'd grown up with. When it came to his youngest and only girl, the man knew Lord Stark would be a most auspicious match. The Houses had long been friends and allies, and keeping the tradition of partnership thriving through marriage was no strange thing. He'd been even happier when Aelys wrote to him weekly, describing how enchanted she had been with her new husband and thanking him profusely for giving her a blessed match.

Now, the greyed man stood in front of Cregan with a deepset frown and a fierce look in his eyes. "Lord Stark. I thought you'd be busy in Winterfell."

Cregan cleared his throat, focusing on him intently. It made sense that the man was cross with him, especially after he assumed that Aelys had sent him a few lengthy letters telling of Cregan's infidelity. "I came to see my wife, and to bring her back home."

Harriston huffed a sarcastic laugh. "You send her back home, only to come yourself first?" He gestured around with his arms up.

Cregan tensed, "first? Is Aelys not already here?"

Lord Glover matched in his seriousness. "Aelys wrote to me three days ago, informing me that you had sent her here to be away from danger."

"I did not send her anywhere."

"You mean you do not know where my daughter is?" He asked, voice low and firm as he stepped closer. Though Harriston was a fine swordsman and a battle-worn fighter, Cregan did not fear the Lord's wrath, for he could easily best him in combat.

He did, however, have the brains to fear a furious father's vengeance.

His heart nearly beat out of his chest. "And she stated that she was on her way here?"

"I think I know what she said, boy." Lord Glover hissed. "Where is Aelys?"

"She must still be out there," Cregan murmured breathlessly, turning on his heel and running out of the fort's doors and back out to the stables. Cobalt was in none of them, confirmed to him that Lord Glover was not simply lying and hiding his wife away from him.

Cregan decided to take another horse—one well rested and ready to travel in the packed snow, unlike his own weary mare. Guiding it to the doors where Lord Glover had exited and looked at Cregan with a fear unlike the learned man usually expressed, he asked: Where are the kennels?"

When Aelys left to brave the storm alone, she had not anticipated the sheer unforgivable nature of it. Living in the North her whole life, she'd long grown used to cold weather and hunting for herself. Hunts often lasted days or weeks, being times of comraderie and companionship when out in the wilderness with your people. She had not been hunting in years, much less alone.

The snow had slowed her travel significantly and clouded her navigational judgment. North became South, and East became West after so long of walking. With the skies so darkened, it was even harder to tell the time of day. With every stop she made and every fire that burnt out too quickly for her to be fully warm, Aelys had grown desperate.

She found shelter in a half-conscious act to preserve her on life. Now, curled up with only her fur-lined dress and the pelt she had brought from Winterfell, she could not help but begin to accept that she would die in this cave.

Aelys thought of her life in a few curt thoughts.

She had only lived twenty and two years. She grew up with loving parents and two elder brothers who doted on her greatly. She married Lord Stark of Winterfell, someone who took her heart quicker than she'd ever thought possible. She would die here, alone and cold because of him.

She thought of all the things she had wanted from life. Not much, for a Lord's daughter. Aelys had always wanted love and gave love in return. Trusted perhaps too much and did not gain from it. She wished for children, eventually, and could never have them now. She wished to see the warm deserts of Dorne and the lush gardens of Old Town in her retirement.

Aelys Bolton would not see anything but the North, nothing but the cold snow and frost-tippes trees around. They had grown familiar and warm.

Warm.

She was so warm, now.

Aelys closed her eyes and fell asleep, dreaming of better days.

"You do not wish to return home to a babe in the nursery?" Aelys asked, voice low and humming as Cregan lay beneath her on their shared bed. Most men did, misliking the process of pregnacy but loving the outcome, for it could only serve to benefit them.

"We will have plenty of time for babes when I come back to you." He replied, brushing his lips over her the crown of her head. "What kind of husband would I be if I left you to deal with the struggles of pregnancy and birth all alone?"

"I won't be alone. Sara is staying, too. I will have a sister to keep me company and complain all my grievances about my missing husband to her." She said amusedly.

Cregan paused in his rhythmic stoking of her spine. "Sara has asked to come, my heart."

She paused, too, lifting her head from his chest and squinting at him. "Sara can come down to King's Landing with you, but I cannot?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "She will be staying at the Blackwood's residence at Raventree Hall, not King's Landing. I would never endanger either of you by bringing you to the capitol. She has been offered guest housing by her friend, Alysanne Blackwood, during my time down there."

She huffed, conceding to his words and dropping her head back down, listening again to his ever-steady heartbeat. "Must be nice to see the Riverlands." She said lightly. "I hear they have fields of flowers growing year-round."

"And the permanent smell of fish and mildew." Cregan added with a snort. "You're not missing anything, I swear it to you. Sara and I will be gone for a short period of time. I intend to leave as soon as things are settled and put to rest."

Aelys hummed her quiet acknowledgment. There was no argument to be had, not when Cregan was set to leave in the morning. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell." She said cheekily, though there was plenty truth to the statement. Alone, she would serve as political head to Winterfell and the temporary 'Warden' while Cregan was missing in action. She had her advisors, consisting of Cregan's trusted councilmen, but the hole that she knew would sink itself into her heart already wore her into her.

Cregan laughed at her words, nodding. "Aye, my love, you will do perfectly. I'm sorry to leave you alone for so long, but I have no doubt you'll do great." He said proudly, kissing her nose. She scrunched it up at the ticklish feeling, allowing a girlish giggle to leave her throat.

"Don't be gone too long, husband. Your wife needs you here." She said, tilting her head up to meet his lips.

"I would never dream of it."

The moons passed by with no reprieve for Aelys. As Winterfell's sole head, her days were busy from dawn til dusk. Letters were exchanged sporadically with her husband while he helped Aegon iii ascend to his place on the iron throne.

Until, one day, his letters ceased. It had already been a full year without Cregan Stark, and Aelys was beginning to grow used to the lack of her husband and sister by her side. Routine had grown to be instinct for her, breezing through her duties like she'd done them all her life. The only thing missing was her lover.

Concerned, Aelys checked in with the resident Maester to ensure Cregan's wellbeing.

When he paused, lips pursed and hands clutching at his cane with a stress unlike the calm elder, he rasped out his own fears. "I, too, have received no word from Lord Stark. Though, no news has come of us death in the capitol, so he must simply be occupied."

Occupied at the end of the war? When Aegon had already been named King and all the men put to trial were either declared guilty or innocent? The brunt of the work was over and done with—told by Cregan himself.

So why was he silent for an entire moon?

It was another fortnite before the Stark wrote back to her. The letter was curt and brief.

My dearest Aelys,

Forgive my abrupt silence these past weeks. Please know that you have been on my mind throughout this entire time.

Sara has grown sick in Raventree Hall, and has not been able to travel with the host of men I have sent back home to the North. We will stay behind for another few moons while she is in recovery. I will return to you soon.

With love,

Cregan Stark.

It was shorter than his other letters by many paragraphs, pages even. Cregan left out no details when describing his miserable times in the capitol. Aelys found herself much enjoying his theatrical melodramatic retelling and was rendered bemused by this letter. Still, she continued to lead with no pause for breaks.

Three more moons later, and Cregan wrote that he was mere days away from Winterfell. Without Sara Snow, unfortunately, as she was still not entirely recovered, but his party could be postponed no longer.

Aelys rushed around Winterfell's Keep in a flurry of excitement. She ordered every room to be cleaned spotless, for rations to be saved for days until a feast could be made for their arrival, for hearths to be extra tended to, and for the courtyard to be prepared to clear the way for the host.

Finally, the days of busy bodies floating around the Great Keep came to a stop. The feast was warm and ready at all available tables. The hearths were warm and ready for sleepy heads to rest within the rooms. The tubs were filled with scalding hot water that would warm by the time they were used. Lady Stark stood for hours at the Great Keep's entry stairs in the courtyard.

She wanted to be there exactly when he walked through the archway. Despite the cold biting at her nose, the Lady stood resiliant and tall.

It was nearly in the afternoon when Cregan's party arrived. He came through first, leading as head of the host as any Lord should. A wheelhouse followed, surrounded by a small league of soliders all around it. She bounced on her heels slightly, seeing Cregan dismount from his ride. Though she found herself bemused and slightly hurt when he glanced at her and made his way towards the wheelhouse instead. Had Sara recovered enough to join and perhaps wanted to surprise her good sister? She hoped so, for she had missed her greatly. After growing up with only brothers, Aelys found a best friend and sister in Sara Snow. The whispers about Lady Stark befriending the bastard of Winterfell followed her around like a dark shadow, but she never paid them any mind.

Bastardry had never bothered Aelys before. Not even when she was a woman of noble birth and was taught that bastards were born inherently lustful, evil, and made of sin.

She waited patiently at the top of the steps for Cregan to fetch Sara.

To her surprise, he only pulled out of the carriage with a bundle of clothes in his arms. Pelts and blankets, it seemed. A plainly-dressed woman from the South stepped out after him but stayed trailing behind. A maid of some sort, though she had no clue as to why a Southern maid would need to follow Cregan back to Winterfell.

As he strided towards her, a strange and unhappy look on his face, she forced her anxiety back down her throat and raced to meet him. "Husband," she greeted with a smile. "You should come inside. A feast has been prepared for you—and your men, of course." Reaching out to caress his face and simultaneously brush flecks of snow from his loose hair, she couldn't help but stop to admire her husband's handsome features. It had felt like an eternity that they were separated, and she had begun to forget the full details of his frame. Forgot his scent in the room and his side of the bed. Nearly forgot the warmth that he provided simply from standing nearby.

The very warmth he is giving to her now, in the chilly courtyard.

His eyes appeared to gloss, his nose and cheeks pinking even more so than they had already grown in the biting air. Glancing over Cregan, she assessed quickly for signs of fatigue or illness.

"Cregan?" she asked gently. "What is wrong?" She prayed he did not catch whatever Sara had caught, or hid a wound under his mass of leathers and pelts.

When he shiftly lifted the bundle in his arms to gesture for her to look at it, she finally spared a look to the mysterious ball of cloth. She had completely forgotten about it until now, noticing the maid still behind Cregan a few yards back, head tilted down and looking at her slippers. Peeking over a fur pelt, Aelys gasped at the sight. A babe, only a few moons old by the looks of it. Her mind raced with possibilities. Why would Cregan bring a babe back instead of leaving it in more temperate climates like the Riverlands that he stayed in on the way up North?

"Has one of your men died?" She asked in a hushed tone, assuming first that one of his soldiers perhaps fathered a bastard babe before perishing in a battle or falling to sickness. "Is the babe an orphan?" Cregan did always have a soft spot for younglings, showcased clearly by his time spent personally training young squires of Winterfell. He had lost his own younger brother in their youth, and the hole had never filled from that loss of kin.

"Aelys..." he started, meeting her eyes with a soft and sympathetic look. "This is my son." Was said loud and clear for any listeners to hear.

A jest. Cregan had seldom liked to be humorous in front of crowds, or anyone but herself and Sara, but he must have been in good spirits today. Briefly glancing at the surrounding people, she found only pitiful looks from the women and severe looks from the men. Shaking her head, Aelys forced a smile onto her face and a shaky laugh. "Don't jest, Cregan. We have no son." She emphasized.

He only stared at her back. No words of comfort, no sudden burst of laughter among his men to tell her that the biggest prank in the world had been pulled on her. Just shameless silence.

He had declared her second best in front of all of Winterfell. Her people and his.

"No." She said firmly, shaking her head 'no'. She breathed in and out deeply, trying to clear her blurry eyes and woozy head. Glaring down at the false babe in his arms, she found many similarities that she wished she had not. The same straight brows that Cregan had, the same scattered freckles, the same pale skin. The only difference was the hair color—black as a midnight sky or dragonglass. The mother must be beautiful.

Moving her eyes to the maid behind Cregan, she found that the girl had a mousy blonde color to her tresses. She could not have possibly bore a black-haired babe. She felt sick, like she'd throw up and choke at the same time. "Don't do this to me. You'd never do this to me." She pleaded out, voice small and hoarse.

"It was one time. I swear it on my honor and Stark name." Cregan promised. But every word was like poison, filling her heart with a heavy black liquid and drowning her from the inside out.

"On your name?" She hissed out, uncaring of the onlookers for this one moment. She was allowed to be angry, callous, and spiteful, even. Any self-respecting woman would be. And she'd be damned if she wasn't. Any Stark woman ought to be when ruling over the entire North. Any Glover woman is.

"Your honor? You swore on your honor the day we said our vows under the Weirwood tree. Under OUR Gods! Did that mean nothing to you? Did I—?" Words spilled from her mouth before she can think properly. But she did not regret any of them, knowing she was in the right. Bile rose in her throat, pushing itself past the forced down emotions. She swiftly covered her mouth, stilling herself to prevent any more embarrassing. Subconsciously, she clutched at her empty stomach with her free hand, both mourning the fact that she'd have no children and thanking the Gods for not giving her any previously. A cry finally escaped her lips, watching the plain maid take the babe into her arms again as Cregan looked on helplessly to his wife.

Aelys found her voice again, though it was ragged and tired. "I thought you wished to wait. You told me you wanted it, too." He was a liar, the worst kind of man. "Was it just not me you wanted a family with?"

She'd rather be struck with his hand than his deceitful mouth. It would hurt much less.

"I did, Aelys—I do!" He pleaded, stepping forward to console her. His arms looked like steel traps in her louded mind.

She took a lengthy step back. She would not share his warmth, nor his love. Or his bed, his room, his damned dining room. His children. Not when he had shared it with another woman. Given her his love, his attention, his son.

She could not bear to keep herself calm any longer. Adressing the entire courtyard, who had made themselves the Stark's own personal peanut gallery, she spoke firmly. "The feast is growing cold. Enjoy it while it's warm." Without a second glance back at the Stark, Aelys excused herself to her chambers, where she emptied the contents of her stomach into the chamberpot until she could only dry-heave nothingness. These chambers had not been used since she arrived in Winterfell, instead choosing to sleep and stay in their marital ones. She would not step foot into those again unless she was dragged kicking and screaming.

Aelys awoke to strong arms lifting her from the stone floor. Groggily, she was stirred from her deep and preserving sleep. How long had she been traveling? How long had she been buried under those pelts? Time was a blur when she was in a near comatose state, dead to the world. Limbs were numbed and her body felt warm after so long in the cold weather.

"I've got you, sweet girl. We're going home." A familiar voice rung in the back of her head. Even the jolting movements of a horse trotting could not fully move her to consciousness as she fell back asleep.

When she fully gained her sense of mind, she could clearly hear the sound of two men arguing. The warmth of a hearth was next to her as she lifted heavy blankets and furs off of her body. Glancing around, Aelys found herself back right where it all started. In Cregan's room, formerly their marital chambers that she had long since moved out of. A large oil painting sat over the heart, depicting a newlywed image of her and Cregan. They both smiled brightly in the photo, much to Cregan's complaint that the painting did not make him look 'serious enough'. She only laughed and tipped the painter extra gold dragons for the accuracy.

She loved that painting more than any others they kept in the Great Keep. Now, the two faces looking down at her only served to remind her of the falsehood she lived every day while Cregan was absent. Taking care of Winterfell and the North all by herself, just to come back and be thanked by his uncouth mistakes.

Shakily standing up, she winced at the feeling coming back to her limbs. Wriggling all twenty of her toes and fingers, she ensured they still all had feeling. Miraculously, she did. The numbess still felt vaguely there, and her throat was extremely dry and achy. But at least she was alive. Even if it was back in Winterfell, she could attempt her return to the Motte as soon as the storm died down.

It had been a dreadful blizzard. Not a rare sight in the North, but usually none lasted so long. Aelys could not help but feel it was the Gods punish Cregan and Aelys for their marital spat. Something like this must be so futile and useless in their eyes and the eyes of the people of the realm, but to Aelys it was her world and her life. No one could help Aelys but herself. She'd leave these spoiled halls even if the Old Gods and the New wished otherwise. If Cregan didn't have to keep oaths, why should she?

Opening the large wooden door, Aelys found the source of the faint yelling. Her eyes widened at the sight of her father in front of Cregan, in all his gruff charm with his silver hair and beard. She hadn't seen him in nearly two years. She stayed at the archway under the door, simply listening in as the men shouted further down the hall. If either turned their heads, they would spot her eavesdropping.

"—cannot even keep her safe during Winter! Am I to expect her to stay safe during a wildling attack, or worse? Or will you be prioritizing the safety of your mistress?" Harriston shouted, veins nearly popping out from his forehead and neck in his fury. Snow still gathered on his pelt coat, meaning he had just arrived recently.

"It is my mistake that she was endangered out there—but I would never let such a thing happen again under my protection. This is her home, I cannot allow her to go back to the Dreadfort. She is a Stark." Cregan emphasized, though had a defensive raised tone.

"Was she a Stark when you bed a whore in King's Landing?"

"The situation is more complicated than that." He responded, clenching his jaw.

"Nothing could ever be more complicated than losing your wit at a brothel, Stark. There is no argument to be had. She is staying with her family, where she was intending." Harriston growled out, a tone of finality to his tone. As he swung on his feet to head down the hall, face set in a worried and seething anger, he finally spotted his daughter.

"Aelys!" He yelled in relief, rushing toward her and scooping her up into his thick arms. "We're going home immediately. We will wash our hands of the Starks once and for all."

"I will not allow that." Cregan spoke from behind. As Aelys hugged her father back just as tightly, it was a battle to keep her tears from flowing in his safe arms. She missed her father more than she knew.

Before Harristone could speak, Aelys nodded. "We will settle this." She said flatly. Her father hesitantly let her go, nodding once firmly after seeing the resolve in his daughter's eyes.

"Very well. I will wait in the dining hall for you." He sighed, walking away.

Aelys shivered in the loss of warmth again. In her bare feet and night gown, she felt the cold of the cobblestone walls and floors start to seep under her skin again. "Here," Cregan murmured, gently shifting his mass of brown wolf pelt over her shoulders and clicking the direwolf emblem into place.

She allowed it, though she did not thank him with words. She took a deep breath, looking him in the eyes. "I want to separate. Divorce, I mean." She said tiredly.

Cregan flinched, jaw ticking and heavily considering her words. "That is entirely my fault. It is in your right to ask that of me." He said, voice dimmed and not nearly half of his assuredness. "But please, hear me out."

"What could I possibly hear you out with?" She asked, exhaustion clear in her tone. She'd dealt with this situation long enough.

Cregan nudged the door back open, nodding for her to enter. Reluctantly, she led the way in and watched as he gently shut it behind them. "I swore an oath, nearly nine moons ago." Cregan started.

Her brows furrowed, bemused. "To whom?"

Guiltily, he looked down at her, looking much alike to a kicked pup. "My sister."

"To Sara? What ever for?" She grew frustrated, knowing he was beating around the bush.

Taking a deep breath, he told her everything. "Sara stayed with her friend Alysanne Blackwood in Raventree hall for the entire time I was aiding King Aegon. In that time—she fell pregnant."

Aelys' heart dropped to her stomach. The same sick feeling overtaking her. She did not say a word.

"Davos Blackwood and Sara had built a bond, much like we did." He said. "When she told Davos of the news, they both went to Lord Blackwood to plea to marry each other. He refused, not allowing his heir to marry a bastard."

"And you legitimized Brandon as your own in turn?" She hissed.

"Sara begged me to. She lived her life as a bastard—she did not wish the same for her own son. I swore to her that my nephew would never be allowed the same treatment. I knew Aegon would do it." He trailed.

"So you bring him home, and humiliate me instead? You didn't even tell me, your own wife! You chose Sara over me. She is your sister, I know, but she chose to be with Davos Blackwood." She could have taken a tea, or moved to Essos or Dorne where bastards were more accepted. There were other options, but neither Sara nor Cregan used them. "That is cruel, Cregan. It is heartless." She cried.

"I never wished to hurt you, I only wanted to protect her. It was my oath." Cregan pleaded, grabbing her hands in his.

She shivered again, though unknowing if it was in chill or her own anger. Part of her was happy that he never truly took another woman to bed—never picked another other her. Though he still hid the biggest secret in the world from her for moons. Allowed her to suffer in their shared home and withstand the pitious looks of the people and court.

"I can't trust you. Not ever again. You could not trust me with your own kin's truth, and punished me for it." She stated. She could not allow herself to cave in so easily, to fall back into his arms.

"I understand, sweet girl." He muttered, softly stroking the apple of her cheek almost mindlessly. "I will sign whatever the Maester's conjure up. You will be free to marry whoever you wish—someone who will not lie to you."

The Starks were known for their loyalty and devotedness to their oaths. If Cregan Stark had lied to his wife so easily, no lesser man could ever make her happy with faithfulness and loyalty. Aelys had accepted her life to be one of loneliness from the day Brandon was allowed into the home.

"I will stay in Deepwood Motte for the time being. From there, I will see where my path leads." She said vaguely, unknowing now of what her heart desired. "Wish Sara well for me." Aelys asked of him, leaving him behind as she wiped any straying tears from her face.

"I love you, Aelys." He said, calling softly after her.

"I know." She whispered to herself.

In the dining hall, Harriston awaited her arrival. Perking up when she entered, he knowingly took her into his arms. "I'm tired, father."

"Let's go home. Your mother has missed you dearly." He said, planting a fatherly kiss to her temple.

Aelys would not yet send word for a formal separation to the Citadel or to the King. For now, time apart was what she declared best for herself.

divider by - @issysh3ll

tags - @palomavz @emithefrog @karinalight @johnshelbywife @tojisrealwifey @baddielizzy @pearldaisy @brookiecookie @jessicar401 @hardkiddonut @littlelilly27-blog @nayaniasworld @just-mj-or-not @flaneurpastel @unsweetenedpeatea @blucesita09 @maxmegara @deeeeexx @masschotch @janniepark1997 @spongelistener @margaaaa30 @paracii @lovebabe18 @rey26 @damneddamsy @yunnifer @kenzcarson @glqmmywhqmmy @arizonadesert @blumin8 @its-your-girl-savy @dreamygirli3 @aemondloverr @zaranobiyuyu @nsr-15 @oxymakestheworldgoround @isansstuff @high-speed-r

so many tags dont work 🥲 will try to tell in comment sec

ending is ambiguous. Will she decide to divorce or eventually mend their relationship? Up to you!

might make an alt ending where he really is just a shitty guy but this had been my idea from the start (many guessed it and i could not reply to them because of it lmao)

sorry if those two scenes got repetitive, but I wanted to show the 'cregan bringing brandon home' from both of their more detailed perspectives. Cregan's shame and guilt and her humiliation and heartbreak.

so many people guessed so close (to the sara part at least) only saw Jace thoughts tho, but he's already dead long before Cregan's walk down to the South. Would have been much more dramatic, but I think Jace would never allow a child of his to be apart from him. Many people swayed me to lead them to separate instead of stick together, and it does make more sense to have her leave him in the end. Although he did not cheat he still lied and publicly humiliated her, even unintentionally, but he's a grown man who is smart enough to know consequences.

#cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #hotd fanfic #cregan stark #cregan stark x oc #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #hotd fandom #hotd fanfiction #cregan fanfiction #fancition #writing

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charliemwrites · 4 months ago

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Hiiiii! So I’m not super thrilled with this but I’ve been having a time of it at work so I worked on this when I could 🙃

Not sure if there will be a second part yet tbh we’ll see!

Edit: almost forgot to add that the gorgeous divider below is by @gildui they have some absolutely beautiful cod themed dividers.

Carrion

Reader comes back Wrong

Content: implied/referenced torture, injury, suicide reference/implicated “pact” (by background character), lack of wound care

The breakup was bad.

Not in the top 3 of Simon’s worst nightmare-inducing memories - but likely top 5. He certainly wakes up chest aching and eyes burning often enough for it to be a solid contender. He’s haunted by tears that dripped like acid and the cracks in your voice deafening him.

On bad days, he thinks he can still see you shuffling down the halls, eyes sunken and red-rimmed, dark circles and chapped lips. Anger giving way to resignation giving way to pain and sadness. The rest of the team tight-lipped and wincing, no sides taken, shoulders and ears offered equally in commiseration.

Your misery wanted no company, though.

You didn’t tell Simon that you were leaving. Gaz let slip over a subdued but obligatory game of cards, you’d be gone for a long time - loaned out to Laswell.

Simon didn’t go to see you off. Didn’t ask why you were leaving or accuse you of being too immature to be on a team with him. He didn’t wish you good luck, stay safe with the rest of the team on the tarmac at 0-dark when you took off.

He should have.

Price says you’ll be gone for six months. Just six. It’s better this way, he reminds them when Johnny balks. His eyes are on Simon, though, when he adds that you need to get your head on straight, and you weren’t able to do it with them.

So. Six months.

Simon stops expecting you on his left. Stops smelling your shampoo lingering on bits of clothes he pretended not to notice you steal. He still dreams about you begging him not to push you away.

183 days come and go.

On day 184, Laswell sends word - your temporary team likes you quite a bit. They want you to stay on for one more month… one more mission… one more…

Six months turns to ten.

312 days since you left; since you were home.

The team hasn’t stopped leaving a space for you at their tables, right between Gaz and Price. You miss your own birthday. Laswell says she’ll pass along well wishes.

The situation changes. A target resurfaces. All hands on deck, including yours.

374 days. Twelve months and some change.

They don’t spend the holidays with you, but there’s a stack of presents waiting in Price’s office. Your mugs have collected dust in the back of the rec room cabinet.

Laswell says you’re still deployed on one last mission, return TBD. Soon, though.

487 days. Still TBD. Soon. Really. Just some loose ends to tie up.

561 days. There was some trouble during exfil but you’re alright. Just a bit of recovery.

You’re coming home.

590 days. You’ll land at 0700 tomorrow.

It’s been 591 days since Simon last saw you. Since any of them last saw you.

Laswell has come to deliver you personally, a kind of apology for keeping you away so long. She’s the first off the transport and you’re right behind her.

Your hair is shorter. Much, much shorter. There’s a new patch on your jacket - memento from your temporary team, Simon figures.

Apart from that, you look… almost exactly how you did when you left. Dark circles under your eyes, mouth drawn and tight. There’s invisible weight compressing your shoulders, urging them in and down. But you’re there again. Just the way he remembers.

(Why are you the way he remembers?)

“Long time, no see,” Gaz calls, reaching for you.

There’s half a beat, you blink. Hesitate.

Then you grin and reach back.

“Missed my pretty face, did you?” you reply.

Johnny laughs and brings you in for a hug. You twitch hug him back, patting his shoulder as you pull away.

“Good to have you back, Sergeant,” Price says, shaking your hand.

You turn to Simon, nod in greeting, expression pleasant. “Ghost.”

So that’s how it’ll be? Alright.

“Sergeant.”

That night, you go out for drinks with the team and Laswell. Simon goes along to show there are no hard feelings.

(Not that you seem to need reassurance. It’s not even that you’re not looking at him. You are. Whenever he speaks, the rare times he does, or if he shifts in his seat. Your gaze doesn’t linger or jerk away, you treat him like you do Johnny and Gaz and Price.)

When Johnny mixes up your usual for Price’s, you don’t even seem to notice. But Simon does.

“When did you start drinking whiskey?” he wonders.

You used to swear you’d never like it, claiming it tasted like boot polish and the “Boys Club” wasn’t worth the indigestion it gave you.

“Someone from my other team,” you say by way of explanation.

You don’t ask for another whiskey. Laswell gets the rest of your drinks for that night.

Simon turns into the rec room two days later and finds you already there. There’s only the light above the sink on, and you’re staring at the steady drip, drip, drip from the faucet. A cup of black coffee cools in your hand. You’re already wearing gloves.

“Sugar’s in the left now,” he calls.

Your head twitches, something pops in your neck.

“Oh, thanks,” you chirp, turning for the cabinet. “Sleep okay, LT?”

“‘Bout as well as I ever do,” he replies gruffly, sidling up next to you for the kettle.

You hum. There’s a yellow packet in your hand. (Didn’t you used to like the blue one?)

“I get that,” you sympathize.

He snorts. Since when?

“Do you?”

When he glances down, you’re not looking at him. Instead, you’re trying (and failing) to get the sink to stop dripping.

“You know that’s been broken for ages,” he says.

At least as long as the 141 has been around. You tried to fix it once when you first joined up, too, with no luck.

“Right,” you say. A little too quickly, a little too agreeably. “Well, anyway, enjoy your tea, Lieutenant.”

You leave the packet of sugar behind. Unopened.

You’re back and it’s like it used to be - not just before you left, but before the breakup. Before there was ever anything to break up.

Your time away seems to have given you whatever space from Simon you were hoping for, because you act like there was never anything at all.

He’s half expecting, dreading, that you’ll pull him aside at some point. Ask for a word after dinner, or swing by his room before bed. Talk about the break up now that cooler heads prevail and 19 months have sanded down the rough feelings. Seek closure, maybe.

But you don’t. The weeks pass until a month has gone and you never exchange more than easy pleasantries with Simon. You give him space, give him privacy. Things you never used to give him much of before, for better or worse.

You fool around with Gaz and Johnny, trade quips with Price, and follow Simon’s orders. Train recruits. Write reports.

You’re back, better than ever.

So why does it feel like Simon’s still waiting for you to return?

You’re always dressed now, head to toe. Day or night, rain or shine. From the neck down you’re in full sleeves, long pants, boots and gloves.

It doesn’t occur to anyone until you’re sweating through your compression shirt in the gym. Wipe your shiny forehead for the dozenth time before Johnny says, “why not just take it off?”

“It’s not that bad,” you laugh, waving him off.

When you lie down to bench press, Simon notes the bottom of your shirt tucked tight into your waistband. He exchanges a glance with Johnny - he’s seen it too.

You used to dress in shorts and sports bras during exercise, a towel over your shoulder. In the common room, you’d mill in tank-tops and boxers. Even used to trot down the hall swaddled in a towel or robe, mumbling that you forgot a razor or some other toiletry before showering.

“What, did ye get an embarrassing tattoo or somethin’?” Johnny asks finally.

You blink at him, expression bemused. “A tattoo? Why do you think I have a tattoo?”

“Yer covered up like a nun on Sunday. It cannae be comfortable.”

You snort. “Just because you’re allergic to clothes, MacTavish…”

“Allergic?! Wha’s tha’ s’posed t’mean?!”

Gaz barks a laugh. You grin and continue your workout.

Simon tries not to be disturbed by the name “MacTavish” coming off your tongue for the first time since you met.

It’s your first mission since you’ve been back. You have new gear, a new handgun. Something’s been carved into the side of the barrel in Cyrillic, Simon can’t read it. A new callsign.

(“What kind of a name is Carry-on?” Johnny teases, but he doesn’t quite hide the unease in his eyes.

You snort and lace your boots tighter. The edge of you sleeve inches up, revealing the curve of a glossy scar that wasn’t there before.

“You’re one to talk Mister Maybelline.”)

Someone painted an upside down cross on the temple of your helmet with their finger. You thumb it before stuffing it over your head.

“You ready for this?” Gaz asks, knocking his knee into yours. The two of you have been paired together for this mission. (Was it Simon’s imagination, or did you look annoyed that you would have a partner?)

“Always,” you reply.

Simon doesn’t hear what happens, but Gaz looks shellshocked when you haul him into the helicopter during exfil. You shake him a bit once everything is secure and the bird’s in the air.

“Garrick,” you shout, “c’mon, where did he get you?”

It takes him a second but he blinks, offers his arm for your inspection. You move with a speed even Simon is impressed by, tearing into the nearby med kit almost viciously. Gaz is patched up in record time and you sit back with blood on your hands, barely even seem to notice as you wipe them carelessly on your pants.

(You used to be more squeamish, weren’t you? You used to be the last one they asked for medical care because seeing your teammates in pain made you nauseous.)

“What about you?” Gaz asks after a small eternity.

You yawn. “What about me?”

“You got nicked too, didn’t you?”

Simon takes a second look at you and now that Gaz mentions it, you’re soaked in blood. Wet patches on your vest, your pants, dripping down your boots. It takes him a moment to notice the tear in your thigh, shredded flesh visible when you rock with the wind turbulence.

“Did I?” you wonder, glancing down like you only just noticed it.

Johnny curses, reaches for you - but you wave him off.

“It’s just a scratch,” you reply. “Barely even feel it, no worries.”

Then why is it still bleeding?

When the team lands, you hop off the heli without so much as a wince. Droplets of blood lead all the way back to your room.

(When Simon asks Nikolai about the hand-etching on your gun, he says the word means “promise.”)

In the after-action report, your callsign isn’t “Carry-On.” It’s Carrion.

Laswell takes you off the mission two months later, a joint assignment with KorTac. They send three operators to work with TF141 - Stiletto, Konig, and Nikto.

On the transport to infil, Simon notices the Russian inspecting his handgun in a seat separated from the rest of the squad. He recognizes the Cyrillic carved into the barrel this time: Promise.

It’s an eerie, creeping suspicion. An anxious fog rolling in.

It’s not one single thing that trips an alarm in Simon’s head, but a steady collation of oddities over months. A single arhythmic beat, a note off key. Just once or twice, but over and over until he can’t notice anything else.

You act just like yourself except for all the minute ways you don’t.

You smile big and wide, sunshine bright, when they make a good joke. Your laugh is still the same, bubbling up in your throat, head thrown back. You smell the same when you pass Simon in the hall, shampoo and soap that’s haunted him for a year and a half.

It’s insidiously subtle; he can’t pinpoint what it is for the longest time. Your mannerisms are almost too practiced, the cadence of your voice too measured. A missing turn of phrase you often used, replaced by something unfamiliar.

Simon dismisses it as guilt-laden paranoia. The two of you ended on bad terms with a year and half worth of space between. He’s hardly one to gauge what’s normal for you anymore.

And besides, the few times someone else has noticed at those tiny yet all-too-obvious inconsistencies, you shrug it off as something you picked up while away.

But he catches Johnny’s brows furrow one afternoon as you light up a cig (after swearing for years that you’d never pick up the habit) and Simon knows he’s beginning to see it too.

“You ever notice,” Gaz begins slowly. You’re the only one missing from the rec room this evening, retired with a drawn-out yawn. “That Carrion always mentions being away, but never talks about it?”

Simon stills. Johnny’s eyes fly to Price, who’s grimly tapping at his crossword puzzle.

“The file’s redacted,” he says. He’s seen it too then, tried to investigate for himself.

“That’s normal for a mission like that,” Simon reasons carefully.

“I don’t mean the mission,” Price says. “I mean Carrion’s file.”

“This is a good movie,” you mumble from the armchair you’ve stolen from Price. “What’s it called?”

Simon exchanges glances with the rest of the team. No one points out that this is (used to be?) your favorite.

Price looks into the team you were loaned out to. All were KIA or remain MIA. All but one. His file has been scrubbed too, the only documents readable are discharge orders and a PMC contract, both associated with the callsign “Nikto.”

They’re running out of time.

Less than 36 hours on the clock with only one lead, and it’s a zealot with a suicide pact. Price and Laswell both took a crack at him with nothing to show for it. Even Ghost has gotten hardly anything and he’s running out of nails. With time, he might get something useful, but they don’t have much of that left.

In the anteroom looking into interrogation, you’ve been observing through the one-way glass with your hands in your pockets, head tilted, expression serene.

Price and Laswell are discussing strategy, contingencies. Gaz and Johnny are throwing in their two cents, but Simon… Simon is watching you.

Like medical, torture used to be your Achilles. You were trained like the rest of the team, but there was never any need for you to step into the room yourself. Hell, you were a last resort even for observation or emergency resuscitation. No one blamed you for having a weak stomach for information extraction.

But today, you glance over your shoulder and make eye contact with Laswell.

“I’ll handle it,” you say with an air of finality.

The room goes silent. Price opens his mouth, but it’s Laswell that speaks, voice hard with resignation.

“Do it.”

You don’t blink. “Yes, ma’am.”

You walk out the door without a backwards glance, shoulders loose but each step steady and purposeful.

“What the hell is going on, Kate?” Price demands.

Kate sighs, looks away as you enter the interrogation room.

“Let’s do this outside. It won’t take long to get that intel.”

The only thing she’s able to share is that you and your team were captured. For a long time. And then you’re already stepping out of the interrogation room, wiping your bloodied hands off on an old rag.

There’s an unusual glint in your eye, an unnatural stillness in your expression.

“Got what we need,” you announce cheerfully.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #angst #reader came back Wrong #simon riley

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 3 months ago

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.⋆｡Deforestation｡⋆.

John Price x plus size reader

Price being mad you shaved your pussy. That’s it

Warnings: smut, Dom!Price, possessive!Price, fluff, established relationship, pussy spanking WC: 840

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You stepped out of the master bathroom feeling like a brand new woman, empty wine glass in your hand and your body practically glistening with the amount of expensive moisturiser you used. This is what you needed, a boiling hot everything shower to wash off the stress of the week. From your shitty manager laying off yet another one of your coworkers and giving you their workload to learning that your fiance was about to be deployed again for the second time in three months, you needed a proper refresh.

The bedroom was significantly cooler than the sauna you turned the bathroom into. Goosebumps bloomed across your exfoliated skin as you eased yourself into the plush chair in front of the vanity John had built for you. The dark green satin robe slipped from your shoulder but you ignored it, your gaze instead on the line of oils just below the mirror.

A pair of warm if not slightly chapped lips descended upon your bare shoulder, he wasn’t quite kissing you, just pressing as much of himself around you as he could. You hummed and leaned your head against his temple, breathing in the smell of tobacco and cheap cologne and something so wholly John that clung to him.

“Good shower?” He muttered, his large calloused hands coming around to rest on your plush stomach, the tips of his fingers barely brushing against the sliver of bare skin revealed by your robe.

“Mmm very good. I needed it so badly.” Your nose trailed along the edge of his hairline, your eyes fluttering shut as his hands began to wander downwards. John released a low sound from deep in his chest as you spread your thighs and granted him exactly what he had come to the bedroom for. He knew just how pliable you got after your showers, barely needing any prep for his thick cock with how relaxed and soft you were.

You held onto his forearms as he finally reached down and… froze.

“Everything ok there, cap?” You teased. John grunted in reply and cupped your pussy in his massive hand, the heel of his palm digging against your clit as he probed around.

“You shaved.”

“I did.” You confirmed, wiggling forward in the seat so he could feel even more of you. “Decided I wanted to clean up a bit.”

You received an almost feral snarl in reply. “I thought I told you this was mine.”

——————

The headboard slammed into the wall with such force that the drywall had begun to crack and flake away but the special forces captain refused to stop, not when he was so close to proving his point.

You wailed and squirmed beneath him, your nails digging into his strong back as he continued to pound into you viciously. “Please!” You cried, your voice broken and hoarse. Your stomach twisted with pleasure and you tightened around him. John glared down at you.

“No.” Immediately, he changed his pace, ripping your orgasm away from you. You sobbed in frustration but John was unforgiving. “She is mine, I know what’s best for her, not you. I know when she needs to cum because obviously you can’t be trusted taking care of her anymore.”

Your body bounced with each thrust, your words only coming out in short bursts. “It’s. My. Pussy.” You ended with a bitten off moan as John slammed into your g-spot, the fat head of his cock making your vision blur.

“She’s fucking mine.” John angrily pressed down on your lower stomach. “I trained her to take me. I know exactly what she needs to feel good. She loves me, she knows I take good care of her.” You grumbled as he once again shifted, lifting your hips from the bed so your shoulders pressed into the mattress.

Your thighs shook violently, the breath being knocked from your lungs by a precise strike to your cervix. John reached forward, his palm meeting your bare cunt with a loud smack. You cried out and he did it again, his lips pulled downwards in what his boys dubbed the ‘Captain Face’. He clicked his tongue and delivered one last slap to your over sensitive pussy.

“Look at her, she’s so cold now. Guess I’ll just have to warm her up.” His thumb flew to your throbbing clit, finally letting you cum around him. Your back arched further up as your jaw dropped open. He huffed out a breathless laugh at the way your body locked up so tightly, he could barely pull out. “That’s it. See, knew exactly what she needed.”

As soon as your muscles relaxed, John readjusted his hips and slammed back into you, his pace immediately picking up again. Your stomach burned with the stretch of his cock and the sensitivity of your first and long overdue orgasm. “John!” You tried to protest but the man only lifted your legs higher onto his waist with a victorious grin.

“Like I said, I have to keep her warm until her coat comes back.”

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youraverageaemondsimp · 10 months ago

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“Thou Shalt Not Covet.” // Angel!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Human!Reader

Summary: An angel's duty is to protect and guide humans; never to desire them, for it is a sin. Yet Aemond, the most trusted angel of God, finds himself yearning and desiring for you, a human.

WARNINGS: nsfw, mdni, smut, dubious consent(?), afab! human!fem!reader x angel!aemond, masturbation (m.) unprotected p in v sex, tiddy sucking, fingering, cunnilingus/oral (f. receiving), forbidden relationship, body worship, blasphemy(?), creampie, cumming inside breeding kink, slightly disturbing content at the end, religious themes. + NOT PROOFREAD

WC: 4.5k

A/N: so I'm officially breaking my hiatus with this piece, I know I haven't posted for over two months and I apologize for that! Exams and everything practically ate my life away! // divider creds to @cafekitsune

God's most trusted angel, Aemond Targaryen, was no ordinary angel. He was sincere, always performing his duties without fail. He was respected amongst his peers, the most obedient angel of god.

Lately there have been rumours about the curse of being God's favourite, whispers about the old tale that all knew very well started resurfacing, the tale of the fallen angel. An incident that is now used as a way to warn angels from disobeying God and trudging the path of temptation.

Must all angels that were favoured by God fall into the way of sin? It has happened before, it might happen again.

Aemond decided that he would never be like that, he wants to prove that he is nothing like the fallen angel and how being God's favourite angel is not a curse, but rather a blessing.

And he did just that. Until a day arrived when he was sent to the land below on an urgent mission.

Aemond was reluctant to descend down to the land of people but he had to on the order of God, his mission was simple, to guide humanity through the famine that was occurring along with the drought that was caused by the devil to wreak havoc amongst the villagers. Messing with God's treasured creations has always been the devil's hobby after all.

And so he disguised himself as a human, helping men, women, children alike to recover, he blessed the land with fertility so that the land could produce crops once again. It was not an easy task, he had spent many weeks on the land, learning how humans function and go about their life which was quite a contrast to angels.

He also learnt how frail the human body is, how much energy is required to perform tasks and an unfamiliar feeling of hunger which he never felt when he was an angel. Every sensation was new to him but he overcame all the difficulties in order to finish his duty.

At least, that is what he had thought…

“Ser?! Are you okay?!” A voice shrieked in shock as he blinked his eye open to see an unfamiliar face with the look of concern staring down at him. You noticed how pale his face was and how dull his features looked, his lips were dry and chapped.

You were just taking a walk through the forest in search of medicinal herbs when you encountered this man lying unconscious in the middle of the path which made you panic thinking he was dead. You sighed in relief when he opened his eye.

“What happened to me?” He asks confused and you furrow your brows, “You fainted.” You tell him and he sighs “Why? I have been eating well though.” He mutters to himself and you clear your throat, you noticed how his face showed signs of dehydration earlier so you end up asking him a question “Did you drink water?” to which he replies with a “No, why?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose in disbelief, “Water is an essential thing to survive, you fainted because of dehydration.” You explain his situation to him and he lets out an annoyed sigh, “Ugh, why are human bodies so frail and require so much material to sustain oneself?” He grumbles and you stare at him confused.

“Whatever, drink this.” You give your pouch of water and he drinks it greedily unknowingly, emptying the entire sac, he hands it back to you. Aemond tries standing up but immediately stumbles, however you catch him just in time so he doesn't fall. “It seems the dehydration was worse than we thought, my house is nearby, let me take care of you.” You offer him help and he just simply nods, “Lean onto me okay?” You instruct him and he does as you say. You lead him to your house.

It was a small house amidst the woods but not further inside, you opened the wooden door with one hand and pushed it with your foot and led both you and the man inside. You opened the door to your small bedroom and took him inside, helping him lay on the bed.

“Please rest comfortably.” You smile at him and he nods, “I will go and prepare medicinal tea so you can recover.” You inform him before getting up and reaching the exit.

“Wait!” He calls out and you turn around with a questioning look, “May I get your name?” he asks politely and you give him a small smile, “It's Y/N” You tell him and he smiles back at you, “ ‘Y/N’ such a pretty name.” He mutters to himself before looking at you, “Thank you Y/N.” He appreciates you genuinely which makes your heart flutter and you give him a nod. “What is your name?” You ask out of courtesy “Aemond.” He replies with a slight smile and your eyes widen, “Oh like the angel!” You affirm and he nods, “Like the angel, yes.”

“You have such an amazing name, that too it being after God's favourite angel.” You compliment him genuinely and he nods shyly. You take that as a cue to leave the room and prepare the tea for him.

Tying your beige apron; you quickly pull out the jar of dried hibiscus petals from the wooden shelf before taking a few of the petals and grinding them slightly, you added those grinded petals into the bot of boiling water and let it simmer for a minute before blowing off the fire and straining the liquid into a wooden cup.

You carry the hot beverage into the room only to find Aemond asleep, ‘his body must've been overly worked without any water’ you smile to yourself before placing the cup down onto the table, the slight noise startling and waking Aemond up from his slumber.

“Oh I apologise, I did not know that the noise would startle you.” You say in a slightly amused voice and he shakes his head, “It's alright.” he replies. “I bought the tea, you can drink it when it cools down.” You point at the cup on the table next to the bed and he nods, “Thank you.” He appreciates your hospitality.

You give him a small smile and he returns it, and then the room falls silent, awkward tension filling the air. You clear your throat in an attempt to break the tension before speaking up “So… I've never seen you around this area before or in the town, are you new here?” You question him.

“Mhm, I just recently got into this town after hearing the news of famine spreading here.” He answers truthfully, he had been going around the area into multiple villages and towns, solving the famine.

“Ah yes, there has been a shortage of food supplies since our land did not produce any crop this year.” You say sadly, thinking about how all the once healthy people in the town now look starved and unhealthy because of the shortage of food.

Aemond notices your sadness immediately and he grabs your hand, wanting to reassure you but the moment his skin comes in contact with yours, he feels electricity shoot up his spine that makes him retreat his hand immediately.

“Are you okay?” You ask concerned, reaching out for his hand. His breath hitches when you touch him, you examine his hand thinking something happened to it, all the while he's trying to control his breathing.

Why does his body feel hot when you touch him?

He gives you a quick nod and pulls his hand away from your grip and grabs the drink in order for the gesture to not seem rude, but luckily for him you don't dwell on it too much.

“Famines and Drought occur when the devil wants to mess with God, something he does for attention while thousands of people are affected.” Aemond grits his teeth, thinking about the reason why many humans are dying and you look at him confused, “And in these times of difficulty, many forget to pray, because all of their time is spent surviving, which further weakens the protection of the land.” He continues.

“So what do we do?” You ask confused.

“Pray, I was going to go to the centre of the village and start praying so that the rain falls tomorrow, but… I ended up like this.” He says embarrassed.

“Do you think God will really help us?” You question and he's shocked and offended by that question but he holds his composure, “He will. Have faith in him.” He tells you and you nod.

“Since you said you were new, you are free to stay in this house, besides you need to recover as well.” You offer him and his eye widens, “I can't, you've already done too much for me.” He refuses but you shake your head, “It's alright aemond, I was starting to stray from the path of God due to the recent problems, but after meeting you, I'm somehow comforted that everything will be alright, a feeling which I haven't felt since the start of the drought.” You admit honestly and he stares at you in awe.

And so you let him stay in your house.

You and Aemond have gotten undoubtedly closer, realising how you both held the same values and opinions, you helped Aemond spread the word of God and soon just like he said, the rain fell and the land began to recover.

You both were currently looking outside the window as the gentle drizzle of rain fell elegantly outside, making the lush greenery of the trees stand out and the smell of wet mud provided a deep comfort to your soul.

“You were right, Aemond.” You smiled at him and he smiled back, using his angelic powers in his human body exhausts him out, especially since the body of the human is so frail and weak, so he often has to recover in your house, but you just thought that it was because of dehydration like the first time.

You looked outside in awe, meanwhile Aemond stared at you instead, your face extremely beautiful as if you had been specially crafted by God himself, your eyes shone as brightly as the stars in the night sky and your hair that cascaded down your back like a waterfall. He couldn't stop admiring you.

He watched as your lips parted when you let out a satisfied sigh, wondering how they'd taste, would they be sweet as they look? He wanted to taste you.

His eye widened in realisation at his own behaviour and thoughts, mind spiralling down a hole knowing that he shouldn't be thinking this way, his closed his eye and took a deep breath, trying to push off all the feelings away but when he opened his eye back again, he was faced with you who looked at him ever so concerningly.

The warm feeling in his heart only growing stronger each and every moment. “Aemond? Is everything alright?” You ask and he nods, “Yeah everything is fine, it's just..” ‘I wanna kiss you.’ He wants to say it so badly, “I just feel under the weather.” He lies.

He lied.

Aemond never lied.

You find it odd but brush it off and leave the matter at that, focusing on the rain outside once again watching as the droplets trailed down the window.

Aemond feels hot on the inside, a burning sensation of itchiness that urges to be scratched, he excuses himself and goes into the bedroom, saying he needs rest, once again, a lie, he shuts the door to the room and you're left alone in the living space.

Deciding not to think much, you began cooking lunch, making soup for the hundredth time.

Aemond leans against the door, breathing heavily as his body grows hotter and hotter every moment, there's a weird sensation between his legs that makes it hard for him to focus on anything else, he looks at the bulge in his pants and touches it, wincing at the electricity that shoots through him.

It's painful.

He knows that whatever he's feeling is wrong.

But it's too painful to bear.

He closes his eyes trying to collect himself but he cannot contain himself, and so he slowly grabs the bulge giving it slight squeezes for it to stop the feeling but not enough to make it go away.

Why is the human body like this?

Why couldn't he control his desires like he did when he was in his angel form?

He slowly pushed his hand down the material of the breeches and held his cock, he grips it which makes him choke out a moan at the sensation.

It felt good.

And so he slowly starts stroking it up and down, curiously experimenting by brushing his thumb against the tip which causes him to whimper, he clasps his own mouth shut at the noise he made but doesn't stop stroking himself.

Muffled noises of soft moans fill the room as he touches himself wondering why the feeling isn't going away, he strokes himself faster which causes him to throw his head back against the door with a loud thud.

“... Aemond?” Your voice makes him stop all of his movements, “Y-yeah?” He replies, trying to sound normal, “I'm making soup, is that okay?” You inquired for his opinion and he replied a choked “Yes.”

He hears your footsteps walk away from the door and he continues to stroke himself, the memory of you calling out his name doing wonders to his imagination as he pictures you moaning his name beneath him, he rubs himself faster, grip tightening on his cock envisioning that he's fucking into your cunt instead of his own hand.

And before he can comprehend the imagery; he feels an immense amount of pleasure shoot through his entire body, making him see white and let out a loud muffled moan of your name o as he feels the wet liquid spurt out of his cock and onto his hand.

He's trembling by the time he's done, looking down at his now unclean hand, white liquid dripping down his palm, the situation of what he had done weighing heavily upon him, the feeling of dread seeping into his body- and so he lets out a soft sigh.

What has he done?

He quickly finds a cloth to wipe himself off and uses the water in the bowl beside the table to wash his hands, he sees his own reflection in the water, feeling disgusted at what he had done.

But it felt so good.

He quickly leaves the room to find you crouching down, tending to the fire as you prepare the soup on top of the heated slab. “Need help?” He asks and you flinch, looking at him with a flushed face, “Hm? O-Oh no need.” You look away quickly. He frowns wondering what happened, you stand up and reassure him that nothing has happened and push him towards the table to sit down. You slightly rub your thighs to ease the tension between them.

You couldn't focus; After all- you just overheard what he did inside the room, the muffled moans, the strokes, and when he called out your name. You heard it all.

The wooden doors aren't really good at covering noises.

A few days passed by quickly after that, the town began to see changes as the crops began sprouting quickly, and soon Aemond's mission was finally completed. Which meant he had to return to the heavens.

But he did not want to.

He actually feels guilty returning to heaven after what he did with his human body.

He was slowly putting his clothes away, ‘packing’ to leave when the door opens which reveals you. Your eyes glance over to the sack of clothes and you quickly realise what's happening.

“You're leaving.” It wasn't a question, but rather a statement which leaves your lips weighed heavily with sadness. Aemond felt something inside him crack as he looked at your solemn expression.

“I have something I want to confess before I leave.” He speaks up and your eyes glint with hope, wondering if he'll confess his feelings to you finally- “I'm an angel.”

…

“Aemond, now isn't the time to be joking.” You furrow your brows but he shakes his head, coming closer to you and holding your hand, “I am not, I came here on a mission to solve humanity's problems and now I have to return to the heavens.” He can't stop speaking, no matter how much the voice inside him tells him that he shouldn't be revealing his true identity to humans. “Aemond, this is not funny-”

“I'm not trying to be funny, I am not lying, here I'll prove it to you.” He lets go of your hand, and moves to the window, and your eyes widen as the sudden sunny weather darkens and rain begins to fall.

You shall not reveal your identity.

You shall not flaunt your powers.

“Is that enough for you to believe me?” He asks and you're shocked, “Are you really..?” You question and he nods. The air shifts and you realise that you're in a heavenly presence which makes you scared- “Be not afraid.” He tells you and your breath hitches in your throat.

He moves closer to you again, caressing your cheek, “I'm telling you all this because- I don't know, I don't want to leave you behind.” He admits truthfully. “But if you're an angel, then we can’t-” You try to speak, but he cuts you off, “I know.”

“Truth be told, I have no idea what it is about you that made me hold such feelings towards you, but all I know is that I want you, I desire you, I need you.” He grips your shoulders, hands digging into your flesh.

You must not seek out a human.

You must not engage in worldly pleasures.

The atmosphere is filled with silence and tension as you look down, unable to form a sentence as your thoughts feel too complicated to process and Aemond just stares at you.

‘Do it.’ he hears a voice at the back of his head.

‘You want her, so do it.’ It encourages him.

‘If you want her, you must claim her.’ It's evil.

‘But I have to return to the heavens.’

‘Will you truly be happy in heaven?’

‘I'm not sure.’

‘Without her? Will you be able to continue to live without her?’

‘I do not know..’

‘If you do not claim her, she will fall in love with another mortal man, will you be able to stand it? Watch down from the heavens with the realisation that she was never yours?’

‘But I must not, I will soil myself, I do not want to give into the worldly pleasures.’

‘Hah, you're a fool, do as you wish, just remember that once you leave, she will never be yours, she will belong to another man.’

‘Stop.’

‘-She will be touched by another man, kissed, caressed, hugged, all the things you want to do to her'

‘Stop.’ Aemond tries resisting the anger that fills him when he imagines another man touching you.

‘She will get fucked by another man, and you'll watch it happen.’

“That's enough!” Aemond screams which startles you, “Aemond?” He looks at you, and your eyes widen when you realise something in his eye has changed, his pupil resembles that of a reptile. “What's wrong—” You're cut off from your words as he presses his lips against you, electricity courses through your body when you feel his soft lips against yours.

His lips move messily against yours, and he tastes just like honey, you try to resist wanting to tell him that this is wrong, and rationalise that he'll be cast out from heaven if he engages in intimacy with you but you aren't able to form coherent words because of the way he's constantly cutting you off with messy kisses.

“I want you, I need you, I can't let you be with any other man other than me.”

You're conflicted on whether you should encourage this but you remain silent, and aemond takes your silence as an agreement, he slowly slides off his robes and fully shows himself naked in front of you.

He's working on your clothes next, pulling them off you in swift motions before you're left standing bare just like him, he cups your cheek and tilts your face towards him, “Aemond… you'll be punished.” Your voice is laced with concern. “Look at you.. Always concerned for me, it doesn't matter anymore, I've made up my mind.” He pushes you towards the bed and onto it before climbing on top of you.

He places the soft pillow below your head for comfort before he trails soft kisses on your face, down to your neck, breasts and stomach.

“Beautiful, my beautiful lady.” He mutters against your skin, pecking and pulling it between his teeth. “Your body is so beautiful, your frame, everything about it is so beautiful.” He praises peppering kisses being placed on your breasts. He watches in awe as your nipples harden and poke up, and so he wets his lips before opening them and taking your nipple into his mouth, sighing softly in satisfaction.

His tongue swirls around your nipple, playing with the bud and flicking it up and down, the suckling noises that leave his mouth are sinful that makes you wet down there, you grind up against him to feel at ease.

The room begins to get hot and your small gasps and whines fill the air, accompanied by his grunts of satisfaction, that he finally got to touch you like this. He leaves your breast with a pop before focusing his attention onto the other one. “Aemond…” You wail and he looks at you, “... need you down here.” Those words leave your mouth unexpectedly as you rub your clit and he immediately listens to you letting go of your breast.

He travels down until he's directly faced with your cunt, he watches in amusement as your essence drips out of your hold which he licks up and brings up to your clit and suckles on it. “Hggnh!” You arch your back in pleasure as you feel tingles all over your body, your cunt pulsing around nothing when you feel his tongue play with your clit.

He nibbles on your clit, his teeth slightly poking it which makes slight pain shoot up your body. His tongue moves up and down, from your hole to your clit, he sucks on the flaps of your cunt harshly that causes you to whimper.

You feel his finger prodding at your opening before he slowly pushed it inside, “Fuck Aemond!” You let out a whine when you felt how his finger was stretching you out whilst his tongue worked magic on your clit.

He slowly pumped his finger in and out, letting you adjust to it before pushing another one inside which made you shriek but he hushed you with a kiss to your clit, and soon enough- the slow licking of your bud and the pumping of his fingers made you reach your peak. You clenched your eyes shut at the impact of your orgasm; feeling as if your whole body was set on fire, you saw plain white as your whole body quivered because of him.

He pulls his face away and draws back his finger only for him to put his fingers in his mouth, loving the way you tasted. He climbed upward until he was face to face with you and kissed you, making you taste your essence.

“So beautiful.” He says softly as he sees your dazed expression and messy hair, the way your lips are parted slightly as you take deep breaths.

He couldn't contain himself anymore.

He wasted no time in lining himself against your entrance and slowly pushing inside, you gasped when you felt how big he was, but you didn't stop him but instead held onto his shoulder as he pushed it inside inch by inch.

His hair cascaded around his face, making him look angelic, he closed his eye; gasping for air when he felt you clench around him. The way your walls were wrapped around him drove him insane; he couldn't hold back any longer as something in him cracked, his pace was messy and fast, almost desperate as if he was waiting his entire lifetime for this.

The sound of thrusts echo in the room as he speeds up, your back arches in pleasure when you feel him hit a certain spot inside you, his hands grip your waist as a leverage as he constantly thrusts deep and deeper inside you.

He feels like he is in heaven again, the feeling of you finally being his and how you're squirming underneath him, moaning his name, not anyone else's.

“You feel so good.” He grunts, “so fucking good— my love.” he places a kiss on your breast, before looking at you once again, your eyes staring directly at him. The sight of you beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist as you try to grind into him, indicating that you want him too makes him go feral.

His thrusts soon become sloppy, he knows he's gonna finish in mere moments, so he angles his thrusts upwards— hitting your sweet spot multiple times— making you see stars when you peak.

He's almost blinded when he feels his orgasm hit him, the intensity of the sensation being way too much to handle, he lets out a loud moan as he slowly rides out his orgasm all the while pumping you full of his seed.

He pulls out moments later and lays down beside you, trying to catch his breath, and you pull him closer for a hug.

Everything goes quiet for a few moments as you both try to recover.

Only for the silence to be broken by Aemond agonising screams.

“Aemond?” You panic not knowing what's happening.

Aemond feels as though his entire body was on fire, and then the flesh on his back distorts as his white angel wings spring out of it, you stand there in awe when you look at them, they're white feathers, but soon that emotion of amusement is replaced by pure horror when you see it be forcefully get ripped apart from his back by an invisible force of nature.

You scream in terror, while Aemond tries to bear the pain, he knew this would happen sooner or later, but he couldn't help but scream as the pain of having his wings ripped apart and pulled from his back is agonising.

Maybe the curse of being God's favourite was real.

And what Aemond is facing right now is God's punishment for trudging the path of temptation.

“Please- it hurts.” Aemond croaks in agony.

You feel helpless, not being able to do anything except watch, you just cradle his face, his hand grips onto yours tightly.

And soon it's done.

You could only watch as tears dripped down from his eye.

His once beautiful angel wings were ripped apart, the feathers all over the room and the only thing that remained of it were the scars of the wound on his back.

The scar that indicates the two wings were pulled out.

An angel without wings.

A fallen angel.

— ! ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

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tojisun · 8 months ago

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!! minors dni; simon x cam girl f!reader; kinda sexting; UNEDITED and RAMBLING // divider by @/plutism <3

yall know those ‘ask me’ thingies in instagram and how theyre not anonymous? mmmprmn thinkin about simon finally giving in and sends cam girl! reader replies (he’s not tech savvy, forgive him 😔)

the questions are always fashioned the same way, he’s noticed. you only ever post those, anyway, when you’re in the middle of editing a new video but it’s taking too long so to keep your loyal viewers interested, you entertain them with little questions.

“which toy next?” you posted, showcasing four different sex toys splayed on your bed—a purple sucking vibrator, that bullet vibrator you’ve made multiple videos on, a rainbow-coloured dildo, and another one that squirts which is simon’s favourite if he’s being honest.

you always did cum the hardest when you’re being pumped full. simon wonders how much more intense would it be if you were properly fucked and filled; stuffed continuously, repeatedly, until your pussy’s all wet and sensitive. until it takes—

overtaken by his desire, he gives in and he types out his answer, “a real prick would look better in you.”

he didn’t expect you to see it, let alone for you to reply, but you did and simon reads it with a huff.

> ok troll

i’d volunteer myself, really. <

> yeah right. like i can trust you

what? you want proof that i can make you feel good? <

your reply doesn’t come in and he knows that you must want the whole interaction to end there, but simon won’t let you—doll, he’s finally managed to talk to the girl he’s been fantasizing about, did you really think he’d let the opportunity pass? you don’t even know how many times he’s fucked his fist to the videos of you bullying a dildo in your sopping cunt or the ones of you squirting while you ride that saddled vibrator that punches out guttural moans from the base of your throat.

jesus, just thinking about you mewling and creaming, your skin shimmering with your sweat, has simon chubbing up in his sweats.

so he gets bolder, changing his accounts—both this and the one he’s used to subscribe to your site—so that you know it’s him. he uploads pictures, exposing enough of himself that it feels real and authentic, and begins to tack on messages to every tips he gives.

it takes about two months until you finally caved.

> so… youre not a troll :(

why the sad face? did you want me to be? <

> course not!

> hby? what do YOU want

simon licks at his chapped lips, his legs unconsciously spreading already.

how about pics? show you what i was volunteering? <

> uh

> you wanna send a dick pic?

yeah. evens out the relationship, don’t it? after all, i just about know how your pussy looks and how it squirts. <

> youre soooo weird LOL

> but sure yea why not ig

simon snorts because try as you may, you don’t sound unbothered at all. after all, he knows you’ve been looking back at him—you followed him back in his socials, you even respond to all his tips and messages, and one time you even moaned his alias out loud during your stream. really, you’re not subtle with your own interest at all.

he pulls his sweats down and takes a pic of his half-chub. it’s a little blurry, and the angle captures more of the tuft of hair than the way his cock’s all flushed and filling-out, but simon knows what a decent dick picture looks like—they’ve all received numerous from mactavish—and this one looks good enough so he sends it to you and watches as his message goes from delivered to seen.

you don’t reply right away, nor after three minutes—he knows because the commercials ended and his game’s back on—and simon wonders if you’re back to ignoring him when—

> oh

> thats a good dick

he laughs, booming.

oh so you want it now? <

a speech bubble appears, then it disappears, then it appears again. this happens for a while and it’s somewhat entertaining to simon, mirth filling him up. then, you finally send your reply and this time simon couldn’t stop the barked out laughter that rumbles from his throat because you sent him your address.

simon’s out the door in minutes, his bike keys clutched in his fist.

#suns #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #basically: i wanted a camgirl/viewer smau but my other phone is dead 🥲 so have this attempt!#''stranger danger!!"' yea but its simon :^( i'll let him do anything to me

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rubiehart · 14 days ago

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being jj’s passenger princess after a long day at work was a god send, especially when he treats you exactly how he should…

“can i borrow your lipstick?”

“yeah, it’s somewhere in here.”

the clatter of items from the two girl's bag's fills the silence of the dingy tikki bar’s bathroom, bringing you back to reality as you blink slowly in the mirror, hands gripping the porcelain sink as you sigh.

rude customers, and pervy old men, mixed with the heatwave the outer banks was currently suffering was a recipe for disaster, leaving you in a fowl mood all night, counting down the hours until you could stumble into your bestfriend’s truck and into john b’s guest bed with him.

at the distant buzz of your phone a wave of relief washes over you, reaching into the back pocket of your jean shorts, eyes landing on the little buzzing screen, lit up with his name.

pressing your back against the wall, you jab at the screen eagerly with a fingernail painted with chipper glittery polish, bringing to phone to your ear, breathing out an exhausted 'hey.’ fiddling with the hem of your uniformed waist apron.

"m’ outback, y’ need me to come walk you out? ‘s gettin’ dark- pretty fast." he hums, the sound of the blinker in background as he pulls into the parking lot.

you nod like he can see you, pressing into the corner of your eye with your ring finger, swiping away an rogue flake of mascara, before settling for an exhausted. ‘uh- nah, it’s fine. be one sec.” before promptly ending the call.

the slap of your sandals against the tarmac speeds up as you approach him, arms folded over his chest with that knowing smirk on his face, leaning against the hood of the twinkie.

you almost groan at the sight, tan forearms bulging unfairly. you practically throw yourself into his waiting arms, leaning your head on his shoulder. he’s startled for a second, eyes going wide, but then his arms are encircling your waist and his lips pressed to your crown, fighting the urge to kiss the skin softly, settling for just inhaling your shampoo.

“i fuckin’ missed you - never thought i’d say it." you hum jokingly, pulling away to look him in the eyes, his hands sliding lower to rest on the backs of your thighs. "missed you too my girl - always do." he says, titling his head down towards you with a teasing pout.

your heart flips at that, his girl, you knew, duh, just nice for it to be affirmed, especially when he’s looking at you like that in an empty parking lot. makes you contemplate if this friendship was worth ruining just to persue your fantasies.

“cmon, gimme some sugar.” he smirks, and it’s joking of course, but who is jj if not persistent? so he leans down a little anyway, doesn’t expect to feel the wet smush of your lips to his jaw, only now does he realise you’re a little tipsy - having been sneaking shots under the bar all day just to deal with your shift.

"that new?" he asks, feigning nonchalance when you pull away, running a gentle thumb across your chin to wipe away some excess gloss.

"yeah- got it last week. don’t you just looove it?" you smile hopefully and he nods, chucking softly as your excited little pout, hands sliding up and down your thighs as he replies, supportive as ever. "damn right- i love it. might cop myself some." he teases, giving a fleeting pat to your denim covered ass, rounding the car to open your door, gesturing for you to get in.

your cheeks heat up at the casual act, following his footsteps. "think y’ a gentleman? you ain’t foolin’ anyone." you grin, taking his hand to hop up into the truck, he averts his gaze, jaw clenching when you stumble, falling with your literal ass in the air.

once you’re situated, hand still in his, so flustered as he presses his chapped lips to your hand, charming smirk on his face, hair all disheveled and looking edible in the orange glow of the streetlights. “i am - only for you though, mama.”

he rounds the car to sink months agoat, turning the key in the ignition and you can't help admire the way his forearms tense at the action. the car kicks to life and you're both off.

after driving for five or so minutes, you were getting a little restless, unable to ignore how perfectly his jawline was highlighted by the streetlights, or how the hand he’d smoothly rested on your thigh was slowly sliding further and further towards where you wanted - scratch that, needed it most.

you weren't even sure he knew what he was doing to you, but you couldn't wait to find out. it was pathetic really, just how easily you could go from 0 to 100, but you were past the point of caring, and all you was for him to make you feel good.

on impulse, you reach for the hand caressing your thigh, his eyes flit to you, unsure of what you're intention was until he meets your eyes. he could recognise that glazed over needy look anywhere, the one you get when you’re scouting out boys at the boneyard, or the beach, or wherever, all this time he’s wanted you to look at him like that, and now you were? he thinks he’s gonna stop breathing.

you drag his hand gently up your body to rest on your tit, which he squeezes on instinct, eyes only half focused on the road. he lets out a gruff, unsure call of your name, clearing his throat, wondering if he should stop.

the action illicites a pretty little whimper from you, which he takes as motivation to keep you making those noises. he darts his eyes between the busy road and you, legs spread and lips parted, eyes fluttering gently as he rubs a thumb over your pebbled nipple through the bobbly material of your graphic tee, scarce of a thick enough bra.

navigating the bustle of traffic was a challenge in itself, but now he'd have to multitask, dipping his hand down between your legs, already feeling the warmth radiating off of you through your denim shorts as you eagerly begin popping the buttons, head thrown back against the head rest, eyes on him. “please, jay..." you mewl, and he knows the risks. but fortunately for you, jj likes a challenge.

#divider by roseraris ♡#i imagine this during the end of season 2 before poguelandia #before poguelandia they mess around but don’t really go further than drunk make outs and dry humping..#꒰ bsf!reader ꒱ྀི #bsf!reader #꒰ bsf!jj ꒱ྀི #jj maybank #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #jj obx #jj maybank blurb #outer banks #jj x reader #jj maybank headcanon #jj maybank obx #obx

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bucketbueckers · 2 months ago

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I'D RATHER PRETEND

CHAPTER TWO

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya | lmk if you want to be added! wc: 7.6k notes: check masterlist for content warnings! honestly a pretty lowkey chap but it's strictly business 🧐 thank you for the love on chapter 1 🫶 i fear this chap and the next couple of parts are slow-ish but i've reread this literally a million times and im sick of it so what do i actually know. no beta we die like brian thompson

'Bueckers and Kennedy, Two Dynasties, Both Alike in Dignity'

College basketball fans are excited for what appears to be the end of the "Tess Kennedy Destruction Tour." After a quiet few days, the South Carolinian guard took to social media where she shared a photo of her and a faceless individual meeting for coffee. The Instagram story was captioned "and a new day will bring about the dawn," a lyric from Frank Ocean's "Sierra Leone." Supporters interpreted this as Kennedy's recovery journey taking a positive turn, but the song lyric was not the star of the show.

Fans were quick to point out the identity of the individual was not as hidden as it seemed. Kennedy's companion was wearing two notable necklaces - one with a silver cross and one with a studded #5. The phone case in camera was also purple with a wallet attached to the back. One commenter pointed out there was a University of Connecticut student ID poking out, and after review, we believe that much is true.

Early speculation declared Kennedy's friend was none other than Paige Bueckers, the star point guard for the University of Connecticut Huskies. Then, roughly an hour after Kennedy's post, Bueckers herself took to her Instagram where she shared a photo of her holding an icepack to someone's left knee. Both Bueckers and the mystery individual are faceless; however, fans noted Bueckers's companion was wearing a silver bracelet with familiar charms and a #25, Kennedy's jersey number.

All of the signs point to Bueckers and Kennedy spending time together, although nothing has been confirmed officially. One fan noted that Bueckers tore her own ACL the year prior, believing that Bueckers flew out to South Carolina to lend a supportive hand to Kennedy amidst her own recovery and hardships. Whether or not this is simply two friends rehabbing together or the most obvious soft launch in basketball history, sports fans are united on two things: Tess Kennedy is beginning to take her recovery seriously, and Paige Bueckers might just be the guardian angel people were calling for.

-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report

MAY 3, 2023

“So, lemme get this straight.”

Tess hums around a mouthful of Chipotle, feeling lighter than she has in weeks. Kamilla and Bree returned to their apartment roughly a half hour earlier and immediately put Tess on the hot seat. Once she made it through her countless apologies and explanations with minimal interruptions, she gave Kam and Bree the green light to ask their questions, and it seemed as though they had plenty.

Kam raises her fingers as she lists off the recent happenings of Tess’s life. “Because you went off a bender–” Tess frowns at the way it’s phrased, “–Amaya is forcing you into mandatory PT, therapy, and a shit ton of PR. Honestly, about fucking time.” Bree snorts, although some of the worry leaves her body. “If all it took was tough love, I woulda been meaner to your ass a month ago.”

“Don’t think it would have had the intended effect,” Tess concedes thoughtfully. She pushes around her rice and chicken, shoveling a pepper in her mouth. “I wasn’t really in a listening mood back then.”

Bree raises a brow. “And you were today?”

The injured guard shrugs a shoulder. “Well, when your manager tells you that your brand deals are about to cut their contracts, and you’re at risk for losing your basketball scholarship for behavior and academic reasons, and you’re slowly killing yourself…that kind of puts things into perspective.”

Kamilla nods solemnly. “And the Paige situation.”

Tess almost flushes under their scrutinizing gaze. She hasn’t forgotten. She has Paige’s receipt tucked into the pocket of her pants, unwilling to throw it away but also feeling weirdly vulnerable for wanting to keep it. It wasn’t a huge gesture by any means. Paige doing PT with her was objectively more intimate than buying her lunch, but the mere idea of Paige saying goodbye to her and sitting in an Uber trying to figure out what Tess likes in her Chipotle bowl is just fucking insane. “Guess I’m not single anymore…so, yay?”

“You’re taking this a lot better than I expected,” Kamilla admits hesitantly. Tess clocks the concern in her expression, like she’s thinking about her next step if she wakes up tomorrow and Tess is back to her old ways. That thought alone makes guilt squeeze at Tess’s heart.

Tess sighs. “It was like a wake up call,” she says after a moment. “Like those stupid ice baths Coach makes us do in recovery.” Kamilla and Bree crack a small smile at the joke. “To me, it was just easier to self-destruct than to let something else kill me. Basketball’s more than a sport to me – it’s my purpose, right? So after I heard I might not be able to play again, I just…let myself sink. And, Christ, people were so cruel online.” Tess huffs out something like a laugh, her throat tight with pain. “It’s funny ‘cause it never bothered me before, but… I just wanted to forget. I wanted them to hurt like I hurt. It was too easy to give into that.” The silence rings out in the living room as Tess searches for her next words. “I don’t think all hope is lost. Today helped me understand that a little better. So, I’m gonna try. I’m just fucking terrified it’s all going to be for nothing, that my knee’s never going to get better and I’m going to put myself through so much pain for a what if.”

“Okay, what if you never play again, but, God, Tess, what if you do?” Kamilla says slowly. “What if you do everything right and you get better and you can play with us again in March? I want that for you. We want that for you. Do you want that for you?”

“I mean, of course–”

“Then do it!” Kamilla exclaims, voice cracking. Tess blinks at her owlishly. She’s never seen Kamilla like this, ever, wide-eyed and desperate. It’s a near 180 shift from the girl she’s spent the last 30 minutes talking to, a complete and total shift from the girl who she’s shared an apartment with for two years. “Please, Tess. Do the PT, your therapy, get back on track; whatever it fucking takes, Tess, you need to do it. We miss you. On and off the court. I know it’s not about me, but watching you throw yourself away like that was the worst thing I’d ever witnessed, especially because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get through to you. I thought I was going to lose my best friend!”

Tess’s jaw falls open as the sudden realization of how badly she’s fucked up dawns on her for the second time that day. “Kam,” she tries, her throat tightening with emotion. The taller woman wipes her eyes, taking in a shuddering breath. Kamilla was never one to be mean, no matter how upset she was – that was a trait of hers that made her such a good leader and role model on the court. She was big on accountability and ensuring that past mistakes would never happen again. Seeing all of the emotion she kept under tight lock and key because she knew she needed to be strong for Tess (even before Tess was aware that she needed someone to be strong for her) is unbelievably sobering.

When Tess and Kamilla first met, they almost instantly knew they would be each other’s best friend. They were alike in so many ways – they were fierce competitors and proud haters of The Office; they bonded over shared struggles of not quite knowing what home was and being just a little too different from everyone else. Tess isn’t sure where she would be without Kamilla. She always prayed she’d never have to find out, but the idea that she nearly subjected Kamilla to finding out where she’d be without Tess feels both arduous and damning.

“Kam,” Tess says again, her mind reeling. “I’m so sorry – I’m so fucking sorry. If I could do it all over again, I would. I’m trying. It’s so hard but I’m trying.”

“I know,” Kamilla says, nodding rapidly. Bree is unnaturally quiet, glancing between the two of them with a conflicted expression. Sure, the three of them shared an apartment, but the bond between Tess and Kamilla exceeded friendship; they were like sisters. Bree knew that and it never bothered her. Now it seems as though she’s unsure where to stand, but she understands that this is a much-needed conversation that Tess and Kamilla need to have. “I know, Tess, I’m just – I’m glad you understand it now. Just… please, please let us help you. Don’t shut us out.”

“I won’t,” Tess vows. “I can’t promise I’m going to be at 100%, but fuck, I’m going to try.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Kamilla concedes.

The living room is quiet for a long while until Bree shifts uncomfortably. “So… PT and mental health counseling, those I understand,” she says. “I’m still a little lost on why fake dating Paige is good for your reputation. Rumors are rumors but…it’s giving new flavor of the week.”

“It’s not like that,” Tess argues, a little too defensively. Bree raises a brow and Tess immediately flushes. She’s not sure why that jab at Paige felt personal. She made a similar jab only a few hours ago. But it wasn’t her business to judge. People have their own reasons to do what they do, right? “Well, she said it wasn’t like that,” she amends, which sounds objectively worse. Tess frowns, wishing she’d just kept quiet.

“Hey, I’m just saying.” Bree raises her hand in surrender. “It’s her vice, right? Her free time is her own, but I mean, she’s Paige Bueckers. It’s easy to get caught up in her. I just don’t want you becoming another notch on her bedpost, even if you’re just fake dating her to make people forget you’re on Twitter restriction.”

Tess wrinkles her nose. “My account is unbanned now, thank you very much,” she deflects, but Kamilla’s knowing expression has her redirecting. “I understand what you guys mean, but you don’t have to worry about that. We’re strictly business.” Bree grins wryly, huffing out something akin to laughter that sounds vaguely like, ‘that’s what they all say.’

“Was the Chipotle strictly business?” Bree asks.

Tess’s face is a perfect picture of confusion, but her heart thrums a little faster at the insinuation. What could she possibly know about that? “What does Chipotle have to do with anything?” she asks casually.

Bree’s smirk widens. “You never order bowls. It’s always a burrito with you.”

“I’m trying something new!”

“Yeah, new like a six-foot blonde hooper–”

Kamilla and Bree break out into howling laughter as Tess buries her head in her hands, blushing again. “Oh, my God. You guys are the fucking worst.”

And, sure – the joke is at Tess’s expense, but she can’t help but feel like everything is aligning once more, that they’re returning to the way they once were pre-injury. She expected that it would have taken her a lot more groveling to earn back their favor. Tess was a huge jerk to them – the more she thinks about what she’d likely said to them under the haze of several shots of tequila, the more she wishes she could take it all back and do it over again. She tore her ACL, a season ending injury for many athletes, and for a smaller few, it changed the course of their careers drastically. Tess wants to find it within herself to have some grace, to understand why she behaved the way she did, but now that she sees it with a clearer mind, she can’t help but be disgusted by herself.

For Kamilla and Bree, it’s probably all water under the bridge. They’re kind people like that, perhaps too kind after the way Tess treated them. Maybe the real gotcha! moment is the idea that Tess didn’t need to earn back their favor, anyhow. Sometimes friendship just works like that – it’s confusing and a great risk, but most times that risk pays off. Sometimes friendship just is, accepting a mistake and trusting that it wouldn’t happen again.

Feeling lighter than she has in weeks, Tess retires to her room for some much needed rest after a long day. She lights a candle, settling against her headboard and adjusting the pillow cushioning her knee. Deciding to face the music sooner rather than later, she begins combing through her mountain of notifications and unread DMs. The apology from Caitlin is touching. Tess feels an odd mix of guilt and appreciation as she drafts out her overdue response: “thank you for checking in, been a rough couple weeks. the injury is not your fault but trust that SC will pick your pockets next year!!!” Caitlin’s own response is swift – a simple 'Bring it on' that Tess can’t help but smile at.

She sends similar responses to some of Caitlin’s teammates and the other college players who reached out. She even had a couple of pros expressing their condolences, which honestly shocked Tess. There was Napheesa Collier, Sabrina Ionescu, and A’ja Wilson – A’ja’s DM made Tess’s Gamecock heart beat just a little faster. She was basically South Carolina royalty. Having that kind of support in her corner fills her with an insurmountable confidence.

Her last post on Instagram was a collection of pictures following their Elite Eight win. The sight of herself from a month ago, healthy and glowing, nearly made her thumb falter as she flicked through the images. It was a simple dump – a couple of action shots, a fierce one of Tess celebrating, one of her setting up for a deep three. It was captioned “nowhere else i’d rather be.” That much was still true. She’s pushed it to the recesses of her mind, but instinctually, she can feel the deep ache and the yearn to get back on the court, even though her knee hardly lets her sleep through the night most of the time.

Her eyes fall to the comments. She knows she shouldn’t look at them. She’s practically memorized each and every single one of them. Her teammates’ comments live at the top, celebrating the win with her; under them, there are newer ones from South Carolina fans, offering prayers and support, confident in their belief that Tess will bounce back from this. She can’t help herself from reading the hate comments, either. Her eyes catch on one in particular. Their username isn’t particularly memorable, but it reads, ‘Upsetting to see how Tess has responded to a normal injury for athletes. It’s shameful that South Carolina has let this go on for so long. Grow up!’

Well, he’s not wrong. Tess’s response was a pretty terrible one and Amaya herself admitted that they made a mistake in handling the situation. Frankly, he should be proud that Tess has grown up! If she read that comment a week ago, she probably would have crashed out. The thought alone makes Tess crack the slightest of smiles. Before she can keep reading, a text message from an unknown number pops up at the top of her screen, inadvertently saving her from a doom scroll.

Yo How’d I do on lunch? It’s Paige btw

Tess fights the warmth she feels in her chest. Honestly, she would have guessed that it was Paige from the ego she can identify through the screen alone, but she saves her contact regardless.

i’m afraid to admit i prefer burritos but the bowl was a 9/10

Paige’s response is swift.

9 cause I’m the 1 you need?

Tess rolls her eyes.

9 bc there was too much pico and bc the girl who ordered it flirts like a 12 year old

That’s insane You KNOW I have better game than that

you have no rizz, just blue eyes and a bunch of nil money like joe burrow if he was a hey mamas lesbian

Gonna ignore that hey mamas comment just cause I fuck with Joe Burrow The Bengals don’t have nothing on my Vikings though

i think i just got the ick im not gonna lie

Are you a football hater???

i don’t watch men’s sports at all i try to protect my peace

Pause So no Lebron???

ok well obviously i’ve watched the NBA

You scared me Don’t say that shit again

why are you so high maintenance

Why are you so mean

someone has to keep you in check settling down, remember?

I think you could be a little nicer!

hmmm i’ll consider ok i decided no

Just plain evil

i need to get my kicks in early if im stuck with you again on friday

You invited me???

i don’t think that’s how that happened

Pretty sure that’s exactly how that happened Paige please come to PT with me 🥺 Please Paige

ok now you’re just being delusional i see how you’re forgetting the whole ‘tess let me buy your coffee 🥺please tess’

Chilllll Did your doctor check you for a concussion after the ACL?? There’s something wrong with your brain

be honest, are you a natural blonde or did you work really hard to be this stupid

Hard work always baby Also, wanted to ask if you wanna come to the airport with me on Saturday, be seen together I fly out at 11:30am so I think it would be good for us The story I mean

you gonna pay for my uber back?

Duh

paige i was kidding

I wasn’t No rizz, just blue eyes and a lot of NIL money, right?

you’re insufferable

So you’ll come?

don’t sound so excited but i will for the story

Of course See you Friday ma 🫶

Tess likes Paige’s message before shutting her phone off with a sigh. She needs a nap.

MAY 5, 2023

Friday arrives after a day and a half of binging 2 Broke Girls, independent physical therapy exercises, and lots of ice packs.

Tess slept like shit Thursday night, though she’s unsure if it’s because of the pain in her knee or because of how badly she wanted to haul her ass to the bar and order a couple of shots to numb the throb. She knew she couldn’t do it, no matter how much she thought she needed it – it was bad enough that she spent half of the night sweating through her shirt and chewing on ice cubes to distract herself from the slow downward spiral of her thoughts. Not addicted, she’d remind herself, nursing a cup with rapidly melting ice as she watched Max and Caroline put themselves in weird ass situations. Psychologically, no. Physically…who knows. Tess certainly doesn’t know what that means, but she’s not addicted, period.

Her first therapy appointment was scheduled for Monday afternoon. She just had to hold out until then. Tess hopes that she would glean something useful from her counselor, but she’s been self aware and independent enough for years that she’s usually good at identifying her problems, though slightly less efficient at figuring out what to do about them. Her typical coping methods included a casual mantra of, ‘Pitbull’s been there, done that,’ and running a couple of drills in the quiet of the gym. And, sure – it sounds weird, but the idea that she’s not the only person facing an issue is comforting enough that she wonders if it’s even that deep. It works most of the time and she’s able to shrug it off. She will admit there’s an eventual crash out one way or the other, but she prefers one big explosion over a series of small, ill-timed ones.

With nothing but time on Thursday night, her Google search history consisted of queries such as how long does it take to establish alcohol dependence and symptoms of alcohol withdrawals. Then, around 3am, she got distracted and switched over to TikTok where she scrolled through edits of herself, but that’s less important. She learned that establishing alcohol dependence usually varies from person to person (Tess hates when something ‘depends;’ why can’t there ever be a straight answer?). It’s less clear if she’s officially ‘addicted,’ but she will concede that after a month of heavy drinking, there’s a little something there. Which isn’t ideal, of course, but hopefully it’s mild at the least. It was only a month and people intervened early…ish – maybe if she sticks to recovery then she should be good and clear within a couple weeks at the most.

Google also informed her of the several symptoms of withdrawals, which usually set in anywhere from six to twenty-four hours after going cold-turkey on the drinks. The withdrawals explained, obviously, the need to ransack the liquor store, but also the restlessness, the slight headache she was nursing for the past twenty-four hours, and the perpetual stomach ache she couldn’t seem to get rid of.

She had some answers. So, things were looking up!

…At least they were until she got the call from Amaya at 9:30 as she was struggling to eat a bagel. Google also mentioned a loss of appetite, which Tess was less than happy about. Much like everything else about her recovery, she would have to force herself into doing a lot of things that her body didn’t want her to do. She’d get used to it. She lets her phone ring for a short moment before she sighs, accepting the call and putting it on speaker, greeting Amaya.

“Good morning, Tess!” Amaya chirps, unusually chipper. The basketball player immediately frowns, brows furrowing.

“You get laid?” she asks, unsure of what else Amaya could be happy about in her life.

She can almost hear Amaya’s eye roll from across the line. “No, not that it’s any of your business, though.”

“Boo.”

“Anyways, back to business.” Amaya clears her throat. Tess can hear the slight shuffle of papers. “So, I really liked what you and Paige did, soft-launch wise. The press is eating it up and so far, both of your brand deals are seeing a slight surge in activity. I’m guessing people are flocking to your accounts for raunchy details and seeing you advertise, um, really cool make up products and homework help.” Tess huffs out a laugh at that. “Good job. Also, Craig let me know you showed up to PT as scheduled on Wednesday and did really well. He said you and Paige worked really well together–”

“Stop,” Tess says, listening to the sound of Amaya’s smug laugh. “Don’t insinuate anything.”

“I’m not insinuating anything!” Amaya says defensively and Tess cracks a smile. “So, we just need you and Paige to keep up what you’re doing. Do the small things for a couple of weeks, then hard-launch. We’re going to give you guys most of the control over that. We want it to seem more authentic and less like two PR agencies trying to salvage their clients’ images.”

“Of course,” Tess says innocently. “She’s coming to PT today. Then I’m going with her to the airport tomorrow.”

Amaya sighs dreamily. “You’re such a wonder to work with when you’re being cooperative.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Tess grumbles, giving up on the bagel and tossing it in the trash.

“Alright, one more thing,” Amaya continues, “then I’ll let you go.” Tess hums. “I need you to draft an apology to post on your socials – and I know, it sounds corny, but–”

“You don’t need to explain why,” Tess interrupts softly. “I got it. I fucked up and I made a huge mess. I’ll email that to you Saturday night.”

Amaya is quiet for a moment, contemplative. “Thank you, Tess. And, hey, how are you feeling?”

Tess doesn’t answer for a beat, considering keeping her thoughts to herself, but she reminds her promise to Kamilla to not shut anyone out, so she sighs. “Um, not gonna lie, I didn’t sleep at all last night,” she admits. “My knee hurt and I really wanted to drink – but I didn’t! I binge watched TV and ate ice cubes. Probably not the best thing I could have done but it was all I had to work with.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Amaya says gently. “It’s gonna be hard for a while, especially when your injury is still new and fresh and you’re all over the place mentally. I’m proud of how you handled it, even if you think you could have done better. Don’t forget you can call that counselor, okay? She’s available at all hours for you.”

“I don’t wanna be a bother–”

“It’s her job,” Amaya states, before adding in a more mother-hen tone, “but she also requested to work with you specifically because this issue is close to her and she really wants to help you. So if you need help, call her. Got it?”

Tess blinks back the impending tears. “Yeah. Got it.”

“Listen, I’m proud of you, I mean it,” Amaya reiterates. “Thank you for being patient and doing this. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Yeah,” Tess says again. “Talk to you soon.”

Amaya hangs up with one final goodbye. Tess presses her head to the cool counter tile and takes a deep breath. She hardly has the time to think before a knock sounds at the apartment door. Already knowing it was Paige, Tess wipes her eyes and slips her crutches under her arms as she slinks towards the door and opens it.

“Mornin!’” Paige greets, far too cheery for barely ten in the morning. She’s holding two cups of coffee in her hands. When Tess glances down, she easily recognizes her coffee order. Then, a frown covers Paige’s face as she walks in and shuts the door behind her. “You good, ma?”

“Just a tough conversation with Amaya,” Tess says as Paige hands her the drink. She takes a long sip, feeling a little more regulated. “Too many feelings.”

Paige smirks at her. “I’m guessin’ she said the same shit my manager called for? ‘Keep up the good work and keep doing couple-y stuff?’”

Tess hums. “More or less. Oh, I also get to publicly apologize, so there’s that.”

The blonde raises a brow as Tess hands back the coffee cup so she can slip into her shoes. “You? Apologize?”

Tess swats her with her crutch, drawing laughter from Paige. “You’re such a jerk. I apologized to you on Wednesday!”

“Yeah, ‘cause you called me a whore,” Paige says with a dramatic pout. “Really hurt my women-respecting feelings.”

“Please walk me to PT and stop talking.”

And Paige does just that. She holds onto both of their coffees as they walk as Tess’s hands are otherwise preoccupied with her crutches. The silence doesn’t last too long before Paige is rambling about all of the questioning she’s getting from her teammates, and Tess can’t help but listen – correction, she has no other choice but to. Paige admits that she doesn’t like keeping secrets from her team, and Tess feels sympathetic enough that she gives Paige the go-ahead to confess their little ruse. Paige’s denial, however, is shockingly mature. “I trust them not to say sum’ maliciously, right? But you never know who’s listening.”

Tess shrugs a shoulder. “If you change your mind, go for it, okay?” she says. “This is our punishment. Don’t wanna fuck up your friendships.”

“S’all good,” Paige says. “Actually, they’re pretty happy about it. Aubrey thinks I’ll play better next season since I ‘got a girl.’”

Tess snorts. “Yeah, you’ll play better until March, then I’ll get cleared to be back on the court and I’ll drop 25 on you.”

Paige wrinkles her nose. “No way, ma. Try 2-point-5. As in 2.5 turnovers every time I guard you.”

Their banter continues until they reach the PT’s office. Craig greets them with an infectious grin and Tess immediately brightens. He helps her take the brace off of her leg and rolls up her pant leg, poking and prodding at her injury. After just a day and a half of actual care, much of the inflammation has reduced.

Craig walks her through some guided exercises, and much to Tess’s silent appreciation, Paige joins them, too. She has a charming smile on her face the entire time, tacking on ridiculous jokes at the absolute worst moments when Tess is out of breath from the stretch and when laughing feels like gasping for air. Paige is strangely helpful. She boosts both Tess’s morale, comforting her in the fact she’s not doing this alone, but she also has a plethora of tips on how to manage the pain and get a better stretch on the exercises. Her hands are warm on Tess’s knee when she adjusts her leg and the way it bends. Craig looks on with an approving nod, though he jokes that Paige is coming for his job, to which Paige huffs, “Tess don’t listen to me.” Tess can only roll her eyes at that, pretending like she doesn’t care about the way Paige’s hands massage the tension out of her leg.

When Craig steps out to grab his wrapping supplies, Paige stretches out her legs and reaches for her phone. “For the gram?” she asks easily, glancing at Tess for permission.

“Don’t call it that,” she grumbles, but nods anyway and pulls out her own phone. “You sound like an old person.”

“You sound like an old person,” Paige mocks, effectively lowering her age by a solid ten years, and Tess rolls her eyes in amusement. She slides a little closer to Tess, reaching for her left leg and draping it over her right one gently, locking their ankles together. “Good?” Tess hums, looking over Paige’s shoulder and throwing a thumbs up into view of the camera. “You’re so unoriginal,” Paige says, but she sticks her free hand in frame and presses her middle and ring fingers to her thumb, raising her index and pinky in the Husky salute.

“That’s basically a hard launch,” Tess says, though she doesn’t really care.

“Everything we do is a hard launch,” Paige retorts. “We got Instagram detectives, remember?”

Tess mulls it over for a second before turning to Paige with a mischievous grin. “You wanna break the internet?”

“Oh, now we’re talking.”

Paige posts her picture to her story, forgoing any sort of caption, and silences her phone. She gives Tess her undivided attention as she plots. Tess pulls Paige closer into her space, hooking her chin over her right shoulder and leaning against her. Setting up her phone at the right angle, she says, “Look to your left,” and Paige does so until her piercings, half of her low bun, and the slight curve of her jaw are the only things in frame. The lights glint off of the diamond studs in her ears – Tess has to resist a smirk at how obvious the picture is, but she quickly controls her expression, her lips drawing into a natural pout as she takes the photo.

“Got it?” Paige asks, tilting her head to look at the photo. A smile covers her face as she takes it in. “Tess, you’re evil. Everyone is gonna flip.”

“My notifications are going to explode,” she says forlornly. “This is the price I pay to be mysterious and sexy.”

“Mysterious, nah,” Paige says. Her eyes linger on Tess’s face for a moment before she breaks out into a grin. “Sexy…? Hell nah.”

Indignant, Tess pushes her away, sending Paige sprawling to the floor dramatically. “Asshole! What happened to those ‘women-respecting feelings?’”

“You just pushed me to the ground!” Paige cries. “Where are your women-respecting feelings?”

Craig walks in just then, his face morphing into amused confusion as he looks between the two of them, wrapping supplies in hand. “Am I interrupting something?” he jokes.

Tess tries to keep the blush off of her cheeks. “Paige is just being mean to me,” she declares. “Poor Tess Kennedy whose left knee doesn’t even work.”

“Bro!” Paige’s tone is exasperated, and it brings a smile to Tess’s face. “You’re full of sh–” Paige cuts herself off with a cough. “...Sharks. Full of sharks.”

Craig chuckles as he examines Tess’s knee one last time before nodding and beginning to wrap it. “Same stuff, okay? Ice it when you do independent exercise, keep using your crutches, absolutely nothing strenuous.”

Tess nods, thanking Craig and heading out with Paige at her side. Even though the PT combined with her lack of sleep the night before has left her exhausted, Tess is in a significantly better mood than she started the day with. It’s likely too early into her recovery to feel any sort of earth-shattering hope, but she can’t help but feel like she’s doing it. She has yet to attend her first therapy appointment and the light at the end of the tunnel is still ten months away, but it feels like she’s making it out alive. And for now, that’s good enough for her.

MAY 6, 2023

Sleep comes easier to her Friday night. The cravings returned in full force as she was getting ready for bed, but Tess was exhausted – she took a melatonin gummy and passed out, although her knee woke her up a time or two. She felt well-rested for the first time in a couple of days. The drinking numbed her enough that she was able to sleep, but the abrupt cut-off has her body in disarray. It’s a double-edged sword. Her body craves it, but every time she thinks about a drink, she’s so disgusted at the thought that she can nearly taste the bile in her mouth. While it makes the cravings subside for a moment, they always return. She takes Tylenol in the morning to ward off the impeding headache and chugs a cup and a half of water, feeling as though she needs to flush all the bullshit out of her body.

Kamilla and Bree are up early and the three of them mill about the kitchen as they prepare a light breakfast. It was a Saturday morning tradition for them, usually consisting of pancakes, bacon, and eggs and a lengthy conversation about their weeks or anything in general. They’ve missed out on it for the past month for…obvious reasons that Tess already nurses a lot of guilt over, but she’s keen on making up for lost time. Kam and Bree put her on bacon duty as it’s the least strenuous. She portions the meat in the pan and slides it into the oven as Kam and Bree bicker over their shared stovetop space.

It’s grounding. Tess contributes where she can, enjoying the peace of the moment and laughing along with her teammates when they say something stupid. It nearly makes her forget about her knee, about the guilt she’s working through as she continues to make amends. Part of her wonders why she’d ever resorted to shutting everyone out and losing herself when all she really needed was to just let them in. She watches Kam shout in indignation as Bree jokingly flicks a bit of pepper into her pancake batter, and all Tess can think about is how could she ever hurt those girls. She remembers her promise. Tess has let too many terrible things become a habit, but she refuses to let mistreating her friends be a continued one.

They all sit to eat and the chatter only stops long enough to pass around their bottle of maple syrup and the butter. Kam and Bree ask how PT’s been going, and Tess is honest when she answers. She’s only two days into it and more often than not, it hurts – but she knows it’s for the better. She doesn’t voice the worry that she might stop taking it as seriously once Paige is back in Connecticut. Tess was only partially joking when she told Craig she had an enforcer. Paige holds her accountable in a way she’s been trying to force herself into doing, but her mind is still such a mess that it’s difficult and all she wants to do is mope in bed all day. She knows Kam and Bree wouldn’t let her live that down and she doesn’t want them to feel like she still needs a babysitter.

They tell her that they're proud of her, and Tess feels the tears well up as she tells them to shut up.

“She’s so back,” Kamilla cheers, high-fiving Bree. “Our little ball of sunshine.” Tess can only roll her eyes.

Breakfast ends and Kam and Bree ensure that they’ve got the dishes. The clock on the stove reads 10:30. Tess knows that Paige is likely on her way. She hugs them both, promising to be back once she’s seen her off, and slips into her shoes just as a knock rings out at the door.

Paige’s brows draw into a dramatic furrow once they come face to face. “Damn, you opened this door mad quick,” she says. “Tryna get rid of me that fast?”

Tess cracks a smile, shutting the door behind them with the leg of her crutch. “The sooner you’re out of South Carolina, the better.” They walk down the hallway.

Paige sighs as she punches the elevator button for the lobby. “You’ll miss me,” she says, assured. “You’re gonna miss me bringin’ you coffee, DoorDashing you Chipotle, and making sure you don’t re-tear your ACL.”

“On the contrary…I’ll enjoy the peace and quiet.” Paige shoots her a dirty look and Tess can’t help but laugh.

Paige escorts her to the Uber she has waiting for them. She holds onto Tess’s crutches as she helps her into the passenger side backseat, laying her leg flat against the leather. Her foot nearly brushes the door. Confused and wondering what Paige is doing, the blonde shuts the door and rounds the side. As she settles in, she drapes Tess’s leg over her lap. “You good?”

Mouth dry, all Tess can do is nod, and Paige leans forward enough to instruct their Uber driver to head to the airport. Her palm falls flat on Tess’s shin, her thumb brushing against her leg, and with the way Paige stares out of the window, it’s almost like she doesn’t even register what she’s doing. Their ride is quiet, save for the driver's soft R&B that Paige bobs her head to. Tess slips her phone out of her pocket and snags a quick photo, flipping her phone screen to show her. Paige smiles at her wordlessly, knowing they shouldn’t verbally scheme in front of the driver, and Tess posts the photo to her story.

She refreshes her feed, combing through all of the shit she’s been tagged in from various college basketball update accounts and Instagram sleuths. She and Paige are the face of a new account named taigeupdates – which Tess is assuming is supposed to be their ship name? Given that the alternative is Pess – not that Tess has given it any thought, because she hasn’t! – she could live with it. The admin already has Tess’s story reposted and the comments are flooding in with many begging for an official hard launch since it’s already obvious.

Their driver parks in the designated drop off lane and Paige helps Tess out of the backseat, ensuring she’s stable on her crutches before she’s looping around to the trunk and pulling her carry-on and suitcase out. Tess can already feel the eyes on them, the hushed whispers of, “Is that Paige Bueckers and Tess Kennedy?” And despite years in the spotlight, she can’t help the anxious flush that creeps up on her neck. Having so many eyes on her makes her feel vulnerable enough, but combined with the fact she has a huge brace on her leg and she’s walking around with crutches? She feels uncomfortable, like she’s a pacing animal behind bars in the zoo.

“Ready?” Paige murmurs, stepping up behind her, pressing her free hand to the palm of Tess’s back. The touch comforts her slightly, but only because she’s accustomed to Paige right now and because they’re in this together. Tess gives her a solid nod, tightening her hands around the bars of her crutches. The blonde moves her hand down to her hip to give her a reassuring squeeze before placing it at the center of her back. Paige leads them into the airport, though she leans down, her mouth close to Tess’s ear as she whispers. “We shoulda talked about this earlier, but…what’s on and off limits right now?”

Tess swallows, trying to ignore the nerves. “Just do whatever feels right,” she answers honestly. “The media knows we just spent three days together, right? Don’t overthink it. I’m your girlfriend sending you off at the airport. Make it look like that and not two strangers trying to look the part.”

Paige grins insufferably at her. “Aw, I think that’s the first time you claimed me,” she says. Tess rolls her eyes, tempted to swat her with her crutch, but decides against it. The last thing she needs is Paige tripping and fucking up her knee even more. “So…nothing's off limits?”

“You wanna kiss me so bad you look stupid,” Tess says, nudging Paige with her elbow. From the corner of her eye, she can see the phone camera pointed at them, so she swallows her pride and looks up to Paige with a grin. “I think we should hug for sure. Anything else is too soon...like I said, we've spent three days together. I don't U-Haul.”

“Fine by me,” Paige says, looking far too comfortable as she walks through the airport. “Don't wanna do nothing you're uncomfortable with. Even if it would break the Internet. I know you like that shit.” Tess shrugs, but she was pleased with the media’s reaction so far. Between the two of them, Paige was definitely the menace and chaos-monger, although Tess enjoyed setting a fire once in a while. They finally reach Paige’s terminal and she leaves Tess’s side long enough to check in at the counter.

While she’s gone, a teenage girl approaches Tess with a shy expression, phone clutched in hand. “Excuse me, are you Tess Kennedy?” she asks.

“Guilty,” Tess jokes, leaning on her healthy leg.

“Do you mind if I get a picture?”

Tess shakes her head, saying, “Not at all,” as she moves to stand next to the girl. She angles the phone and Tess throws up a peace sign, grinning, and she snaps the photo. Before either of them can say anything else, Paige is walking back from the check in counter and the girl looks like she’s about to start doing cartwheels.

“Is that–”

“Unfortunately,” Tess sighs, which makes the girl laugh and Paige narrows her eyes. Remembering where they are, Tess smiles innocently.

“Can I get another picture with the both of you?”

Paige and Tess can’t resist. Paige rarely turns down her supporters in the first place, and all Tess can think about when she’s in these situations is all the times she’s ever met her idols and how it changed her life. Being in a situation to give back to the youth like that is one of the best parts about playing basketball. They pose on either side of the teenager as she takes the photo, and after quick hugs and a lot of gratitude, Paige and Tess are left alone.

Tess checks the time, realizing that Paige is boarding soon. The overhead PA confirms as much and Paige glances at Tess once more, hiking her carry-on bag higher on her shoulder. “You gonna miss me?” she asks teasingly, and Tess taps her chin, thinking.

“Hmm,” she ponders. “Not one bit.”

“You will,” Paige says confidently. “I got motion like that.” Tess rolls her eyes, unable to curb the warm fondness in her chest. She just pretends like it doesn’t exist. “Make sure you eat, alright? And go to PT. And be real with your therapist. Lemme hear you’re bein’ irresponsible and I’ll fly back down to set you straight.”

“Yes, Paige. Anything else?”

Paige shrugs, an easy smile on her face. “I know you pretend like you’ont like me, but I had fun with you. Even when you were mean.”

“Not mean,” Tess argues weakly. She can’t hide how touched she is by Paige’s words. “Just trying to keep your ego at a reasonable level.”

“Whatever you say, ma,” the blonde concedes. She opens her arms and Tess forgets all about the media, their story, whatever it is they’re supposed to be pretending to do as she wraps her arms around Paige’s waist. She could care less about the cameras, about the social media explosion they’re undoubtedly causing. Paige’s hands are warm on her back and her perfume makes Tess’s head spin. “Gimme a call if you need anything, I mean it. Don’t try to do this by yourself. Promise me.”

“Promise,” Tess vows. Paige pulls back ever so slightly, her eyes studying Tess’s face as her hands slide down her back, resting on her hips. Paige smiles at her and gives her a gentle squeeze before pulling away completely. She and Paige are both flushed, though the red creeping up Tess’s neck feels strangely like embarrassment.

“Call you when I land?” she asks quietly. Tess nods, forcing a smile, and they share their final goodbyes before Paige walks away.

Tess watches as she goes, suddenly hyper aware of the cameras and the crowd, and she holds back a sigh. She needs to get it together. None of that was real. She’s just a mess emotionally, touch-starved after a month-long crash out, and she’s letting it get to her head. She’ll feel more regulated after a nap and some stretches.

Hopefully.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers x oc #uconn #uconn wbb #wbb x reader #ncaa wbb

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luvismenu · 1 month ago

Text

stream #04 — underwater

(smau + written chap) ,, pause or play ,, JJK — series m.list

warnings: wet. like, literally wet. cutie moments, flashbacks.

“alright, chat, see you in the next stream,” jungkook says with a grin, waving at the camera before ending the stream.

as soon as the stream is off, you start helping him clean up while he grabs a towel to dry himself off.

you were a little worried when he told you he’d be streaming in his pool today. showing tricks and swimming around sounded fun, but you couldn’t help but stress about how long his streams usually last—being underwater for extended periods couldn’t be good for him. thankfully, though, he wrapped it up earlier than usual.

you’re glad he’s more aware of himself.

“the weather was perfect today, wasn’t it? made for a great stream,” he says cheerfully, shaking his head, water droplets scattering everywhere.

you laugh softly as you carefully walk over, mindful of the slippery, wet floor. “here, let me help,” you say, reaching for his towel.

he lowers his head for you with a little smile, letting you dry his hair.

you’re in your usual clothes, a white shirt and jeans and he’s just in his swim shorts, but this isn’t anything new— you’ve seen him like this plenty of times before.

but for jungkook, this feels different.

his heart is pounding. every time he tries to show you his manly side (as he calls it) it’s like his thoughts spiral. he knows he’s doing too much, but he can’t help it. he just hopes you’ll see him differently… feel something, anything, for him.

“jji…” he mutters softly, barely audible.

you pause, your hands still in his hair, but you don’t pull away. “what is it?” you ask, your voice equally soft as you meet his gaze.

he tilts his head up, slowly straightening to his full height, towering over you now. your hands lower slightly, following the movement of his head, and you notice him reach for your wrist, holding it gently.

you blink, a little confused. “what?” you whisper, the proximity making your heart skip slightly.

he swallows, his eyes searching yours nervously.

“you look pretty,” he finally says, his voice quiet but steady.

your breath catches, and you stare at him, processing his words.

“huh?” you reply, caught off guard.

compliments from jungkook aren’t unusual. he’s always been sweet. but this… this feels different. his tone, the look in his eyes, the way he’s standing so close— it all feels heavier, more meaningful. you can feel your face heat up, and for a second, you can’t seem to find the right words.

his lips twitch into a slight smile when he sees you blinking rapidly, clearly caught off guard.

“i said you look pretty,” he repeats, voice quieter this time as he gently lowers your hand, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist.

“oh. thanks,” you murmur, clearing your throat in an attempt to compose yourself. “lunch?” you quickly ask, hoping to steer the moment away from the sudden shift in energy.

he doesn’t step back, and the proximity feels heavier now. this sort of closeness isn’t new—it’s happened countless times before—but it felt different ever since jungkook started his whole “i’m a grown man now” thing.

you think it began after your breakup with your ex, a few months ago. it wasn’t messy, just two people realizing they weren’t meant to be. it was fine, really. still, you’d had your moments of sadness, and jungkook had been there for all of it, comforting you in his own way.

but somewhere along the line, he started slipping in comments like, “it’s okay, jji. you can lean on me. i’m a grown man now.” it had made you laugh at first— you didn’t think he was serious. but the more time passed, the more you realized he was indeed, serious.

and you don’t know what to do with that.

“yeah…” he mutters, barely audible, but his gaze doesn’t falter. he keeps looking at you, and you find yourself unable to look away.

then, his hand shifts, his fingers intertwining with yours. you snap out of your thoughts, your brows knitting together as you notice him leaning closer.

your breath catches, and before you can think, you flinch and instinctively step back— unfortunately, towards the pool.

“oh—”

the slippery floor doesn’t give you a chance. you stumble, yelping as you lose balance. your grip on jungkook’s hand tightens as you fall, and his eyes widen in alarm.

it all happens too quickly.

your body hits the water with a splash, the cold instantly shocking your senses. jungkook's grip on your hand slips and he drops to one knee at the edge of the pool, his eyes wide with panic.

“jji !! are you okay?” jungkook asks, his voice louder than usual as it cuts through the sound of splashing water.

you blink up at him, soaked and disoriented, water dripping from your hair and face. with a heavy sigh, you mutter flatly, “jungkook.”

his lips twitch, and you can see him trying to suppress a laugh. “it’s not my fault!” he says defensively.

“you— you scared me!” you snap, grabbing the edge of the pool to pull yourself out.

“what did i do?” he argues, kneeling fully to help you.

“ugh, nothing,” you grumble as you accept his help. with his grip, you manage to haul yourself out of the pool, but now you’re completely drenched. your clothes stick to you uncomfortably, and you can already feel the chill settling in.

“well,” he says, glancing at you, “at least you’ve got extra clothes here and..”

but then his words trail off. he stops moving entirely.

you look at him, confused by his sudden silence, until you realize—

oh shit.

your soaked white shirt has turned almost transparent, clinging to your skin and revealing the light pink bra underneath. jungkook’s eyes widen for a split second before his cheeks flush bright red. his head jerks up so quickly it startles you.

“uh—” he stammers, now looking everywhere but at you, “the t-towel!”

your head snaps to the towel lying forgotten on the floor. you grab it immediately, wrapping it around yourself as fast as you can.

“i-i’m gonna go change,” you say, your voice shaky as you clutch the towel tightly.

he’s still turned away, fidgeting as he stares into the void, anywhere except you. “yeah, yep, sure, you know the way!” he rambles, his words tumbling out so fast they almost don’t make sense.

despite the awkwardness, you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

he’s flustered.

so flustered that it’s kind of.. cute.

“jagi, can you also get the tomato sauce? i think we need more,” your mom says into her phone, distracted as she talks to your dad. she looks a little frustrated, glancing between the ingredients for lunch and you playing on the floor with jungkook. his little hands clap excitedly as you build a colorful fort with play blocks.

“aish, jagi, no, not that one! you know, the one with—” her voice fades into the background, leaving just you and jungkook surrounded by his tiny giggles.

“jajji !” he exclaims, pointing at you with a big smile.

you giggle back, his happiness contagious. you gently take his small hands in yours, your slightly bigger hands wrapping around his.

“my dad is my mommy’s jagi,” you explain, smiling at him. “just like my mommy is my dad’s jagi.”

“eomma?” he asks, his head tilting as he refers to his mom.

“yes! your eomma is your appa’s jagi, and your appa is eomma’s jagi,” you say with confidence, proud of your explanation.

“jajji !!” he repeats, laughing at the word, his laugh light and full of joy.

at that time, he was new to the neighborhood. his family had moved in not long ago, but the two of you got along so well that he was already spending afternoons at your place for playdates.

“no, jungkook,” you say sweetly, pointing at your mouth to enunciate the word clearly. “ja-gi.”

he blinks at you, his little head tilting again as he tries to understand. after a moment, his eyes light up like he’s figured out something big.

“jji !!” he exclaims, clapping his hands again.

you burst into laughter. “jji?!”

“you,” he points at you, his grin so wide it shows his tiny teeth. then he points at himself and says proudly, “my jji.”

your face brightens with joy.

“and you,” you say, pointing back at him with equal excitement, “my jji.”

you smile as your eyes settle on a picture frame of a seven-year-old you with a three-year-old jungkook perched on your lap. his tiny arms are wrapped around you, his grin showing his little bunny teeth. your hands are loosely holding him, and your expression is full of joy. you wrap your arms around yourself now, standing in front of his wall of memories, each photo telling a story.

there’s his kindergarten graduation, his middle school soccer team, and his high school prom; with you beside him because he refused to take a date, saying he’d be just fine as long as you could make it somehow. (more like insisted you), and you did— showing up near the end of the prom, and you still remember the way his entire face lit up when he saw you there.

photos of him winning trophies and awards, moments that document every stage of his life, and in almost all of them, you’re right there beside him. you trace the edge of one of the frames lightly—the one with him on your lap—with your fingers, a small smile playing on your lips.

“figured it out jji !” jungkook's voice calls out, breaking your thoughts. you turn to see him walking out of the kitchen, a wooden spoon in one hand, looking triumphant. “i forgot to add sesame oil.”

you chuckle, watching him as he scratches the back of his head sheepishly. he's fully refreshed now after his shower, and you’re wearing the fresh clothes you grabbed after your own dive into the pool.

“need any help?” you ask, tilting your head.

“nope! the only thing i need you to do is eat,” he says, flashing a grin before disappearing back into the kitchen.

you can’t help but smile again. the strange tension from earlier, the moment by the pool, it feels like a distant memory now. right now, it’s just jungkook; your jungkook. the boy who grew up with you, who you’ve always been able to depend on. there’s nothing to overthink, nothing to worry about.

he's just your jji.

next chappie at 120 notes !!

a/n: ive got the plot already written in my notes but it takes time to fully write & execute it ,, pls forgive me for the slow updates 😣

💌 series taglist: @milkk1400 @dna-black-and-blue @vrsltz @jkvamp @dieforkoo @myjungkookthighs

💌 permanent taglist: @annyeongbitch7 @internetrando64 @jkvias @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @jaytheatiny @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee @thvgukk

@134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @hoseokteardrop @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097 @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle @rrosiitas @jjeonjjk7 @remgeolli @ty-moy-ya-tvoy @rpwprpwprpwprw

#jungkook fic #jungkook x y/n #jk fic #jungkook smau #bts fic #jeon jungkook #fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook x you #jk x reader

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j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus · 3 months ago

Text

König x Reader (Happy 100 followers!)

Title: Five roses, a teddy bear, and a cat.

Synopsis: Back from deployment and six months of not seeing you, König is nervous to see you again

Warnings: calling König "Kilgore" (which I guess could be his real name? I looked on his wiki and it said he was called that in one of the games) and SO much anxiety on his end

AN: THIS MAN IS A WRECK 😭 😭 😭

His grip was crushing the stems of the roses in hand, he stopped by the local supermarket to buy you them and a teddy bear. He doesn't even know if Schatzi, your pale orange tabby cat, will remember him, and the thought alone made him *terrified.*

He looks down at the roses and the teddy bear, tears welling in his eyes. Then he looks back up at your door, biting his chapped lip.

He closes his eyes and knocks, the teddy bear shifting from his hand to under his arm.

"Hello?" Your pretty little voice calls, opening the door in about five seconds. His breath hitches when he hears you, his eyes opening and widening and his heart sinking to his stomach.

Then the door opens and he holds the roses out, reaching to grab the teddy bear.

"Hi..." He mumbles out, looking down at his clunking feet. Then he can't see his feet because you've grabbed him, tears in your eyes as you hug him tightly.

"Come in... Please.." you mutter, pulling on König, urging him, the gifts he bought you not even registering in your mind.

"Okay," he breathes out, letting you lead him in the house.

By now Schatzi is meowing like mad, confused by why you're crying and holding König so tightly. Then, she pads over to König and rubs against his legs.

He lets out this gasplike sound, shuddering out, "You- you still love me?"

You look up at him with sheer *horror* in your eyes, I mean, how could you *not?*

"Kilgore.." you mutter, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek. He drops to his knees, an absolute wreck of himself.

You cup his cheeks, holding him there, your eyes so soft, inviting. His brain swirls and curls, tears that had been pent up for half the year finally escaping like a dam had been broken.

You bend over, arms wrapping around his neck and hugging him in that embrace he's been craving. He buries his face in your neck, dropping those roses, the petals falling, the teddy bear now being batted by Schatzi. You kneel, hugging onto the poor man as he sobs, large hands going to grab your waist and hold your body against his. He clutches onto you like a lifeline, like a boy holding his favourite toy, using you as his only source of comfort.

It takes him... A while to calm down. Once Schatzi comes and runs against him, then tries to climb his back, you both laugh so hard that his sadness and relief all mould into this... Joy.

He hands you the flowers, now wilted, "For you.." he mumbles out, your brutish Austrian, one that speaks maybe five words a day. Then he hands you the teddy bear, though Schatzi seems more upset that her new toy has been taken than anything.

You laugh, grinning, "Thank you, Kilgore. They're lovely, I'll go put them in water," you say and stand up, taking the roses and teddy bear, kissing his forehead, and walking away.

And god, does that man fall in love again.

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joequiinn · 4 months ago

Text

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | epilogue

[chap seventeen] | [all chapters here]

Summary | You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

Warnings & Notes | fem reader, slooow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, dysfunctional family dynamics, idiots-to-lovers, smut & nsfw themes

Author's Note | Well, we've finally made it, everyone, and I'm feeling emotional about it. This epilogue is just a lil something I thought up while I was considering what the future would hold for Eddie and ice princess, and I love it dearly.

WC | 3.2k

Epilogue

September 1985

I want to be somewhere big and interesting. New York, L.A.… fuck, even Florida for all I care, I just want out of Hawkins, out of this town.” “Then I guess we’ll be those high school sweethearts that run off to L.A. together after graduation, huh?” “Oh, I’m sure.”

September 1987

Eddie should’ve been home by now. You’d memorized his work schedule within his first week of starting at VIP Records, so you knew his shift always ended at 6pm on Tuesdays - so where the hell was he? It was nearly 8:30, and you’d been getting more and more antsy as the minutes ticked by, worrying over what could possibly be delaying him like this.

So much had happened in the two years since you and Eddie began dating back in Hawkins - your world had changed so much that sometimes you felt like a completely different person. It started with some big things, like reintroducing Eddie to your parents and begging them to start fresh with him - though your father resolved to never show any warmth to your boyfriend, at least your mother was kinder.

You decide that you wouldn’t be going to college following graduation, instead wanting to take a year to work, which was yet another thing your father didn’t warm to. Somewhere amidst that decision and the subsequent string of arguments that followed, you found yourself spending more nights with Eddie and Wayne than you did with your own parents, until one day you realized you had informally moved into the Munson home. So, by the end of summer ‘86, you were out of your parents’ house and working full-time to save up for whatever may come next (and to pay rent, despite Wayne’s insistence that it was entirely unnecessary).

You weren’t sure who proposed the idea first, but you and Eddie had decided one day that you were going to move out to California. Initially, this was just some fantasy for the two of you, something to give you hope that you’d hightail it out of Hawkins one day, but over time that fantasy started to look more and more real until finally you agreed that maybe the idea wasn’t half bad at all.

So, you began to set aside more cash, began to look into neighborhoods and cities around Los Angeles, began to tell everyone that the two of you would be leaving town soon enough. No one really believed you at first - all your friends were in support of the idea, but they didn’t think it was particularly realistic. And when you mentioned it on one of the very rare occasions you saw your parents anymore, your father had the gall to laugh right in your face. That, of course, only bolstered your resolve to get the hell out of Indiana, and a lot of your freetime was slowly consumed with library visits to figure out how exactly to make this move happen.

You and Eddie finally made the leap a few months back, spending a couple weeks road tripping your way across the country, finally arriving in Los Angeles with only your most important earthly belongings and little else. Leaving Hawkins had been harder than you expected - leaving Wayne being the hardest - but you found California to be utterly refreshing, to fit you almost like a glove.

After living out of a hotel for a while, you found this cozy little apartment down in Long Beach, and you’d been content ever since; sure, it wasn’t perfect and the neighborhood wasn’t impressive, but it was your space, and that made it just right for you and Eddie. You both got jobs to hold you over for a while, you started visiting bars and venues, hell, you even found a stray cat that you quickly adopted without a second thought.

You’d been leaving the dollar theater after seeing a re-release of Labyrinth when the little calico found you - something about the film, and David Bowie, had totally mesmerized you when it came out the year prior, and Eddie was happy to take you to the special showing that night. So, when this cat approached you curiously and began weaving playfully between Eddie’s ankles, you were both immediately smitten. You named the cat Sir Didymus only to discover it was female a few weeks later, but it suited her rascally personality just fine, and thus her name stuck.

And now here you were, five months into your new California life and driving yourself crazy over where the hell Eddie was and why he was late to return home.

You called the record store and asked if maybe he was working late and forgot to mention it, but his coworker informed you that Eddie clocked out right on schedule; he mentioned that Eddie seemed eager to leave, but didn’t have any further information for you. On the one hand, it made you worry that something had happened, but on the other, you were annoyed that he had possibly made plans without telling you, as unlikely as that may be.

You’d tried to think of all the places in town that he could have gone to, but nothing seemed particularly viable - he wouldn’t have gone to a show without you, wouldn’t have gone to the store without you, wouldn’t have gone anywhere without you. Not unless he was keeping some kind of secret, but you couldn’t fathom what that might be.

Considering that today was your birthday, you had originally thought maybe he was making a special stop to get you flowers or a cake or a last minute gift; it was so like Eddie to do that, even after you insisted he didn’t need to get you anything at all. But once 7 o’clock hit, and then 7:30, and then 8pm, you began to doubt this original line of thought and assume the worst instead.

Decidedly, a few minutes past 8, you’d thrown on one of Eddie’s sweaters and your shoes, and made the short trek down to the convenience store on the corner - the two of you were in there practically every day, so maybe one of the employees had seen him. The familiar night clerks greeted you, but when you asked about Eddie’s whereabouts, they didn’t have a clue, which made your worries grow even more. As if to put your mind at ease, they gave you a free 6-pack and said they’d call you if they saw him.

You returned back to the apartment to Sir Didymus crying for dinner, which made you realize you forgot to set out food for her earlier. Cursing to yourself, you filled her bowl and began to pace nervously, trying to consider where the hell Eddie could be. Did you forget about a show that he had previously mentioned? Or was he hit by a fucking truck? Maybe he got caught up chatting with a customer like he was one to do, or maybe he got fucking mugged. All possibilities were on the table, and you hated each and every one of them for causing you such worry and distress.

Prying open a window, you crawled onto the fire escape and lit a cigarette, hands shaky with anxiety as you pressed it to your lips. The night was relatively quiet for your neighborhood, which wasn’t saying much - there were always cars cruising up and down the road, music blasting from a nearby bar, and people constantly arguing in alleyways and backyards. But the noise was soothing in its way, reminding you that the world was constantly in motion and that Eddie was probably just caught up in it all.

Sir Didymus came to sit beside you, meowing as if she, too, was wondering where the hell Eddie was and why he wasn’t back home. You considered throwing on some clothes to go searching for him, but aside from the bar and the convenience store, there was nowhere in the area that he would be; moments like these made you wish you two hadn’t sold your car, because it would’ve been really convenient to have right about now.

Each time you heard tires screeching or saw headlights shining down the road, you craned your neck to get a better look, but it was never Eddie. You’d already nervously polished off two cigarettes and were lighting up a third; Sir Didymus had retired to sleeping on the pile of blankets that she commandeered within a few days of moving in.

As you were caught up in your anxious thoughts, you thought you’d heard metal music from somewhere nearby, muffled and far off, but it caused your ears to perk; when you realized that it was specifically a Dio song playing, you immediately shot to your feet, clambering back through the window while dropping your cigarette into the ashtray.

Without bothering to slip on shoes, you rushed out onto the breezeway connecting all the little apartments in your complex, gripping the rails as you tried to find the source of the music, which was obviously louder from this side of the building. The street in front of your complex was crowded with cars, so if the music was Eddie’s, he must have had to park way down the block; eventually, the music stopped, and you became more anxious by the second.

When finally you spotted Eddie walking up the sidewalk towards the gate, you all but rushed down the stairs to meet him halfway; Eddie smiled largely, clearly not able to make out your concern under the flickering lights illuminating the path. A glare grew in your eyes as you realized he looked just fine; in fact, it seemed he stopped by the store, if the grocery bag in his hand was anything to go on. He held up his arms to greet you, but before he could get a word out, you hissed while jabbing him in the chest.

“Where the hell have you been?” Your eyes were alight with panicked concern, and you didn’t realize until that moment that you were on the verge of relieved tears. You swallowed, determined to hold them back, “It’s almost 9 o’clock, Eddie, I was worried out of my fucking mind.”

Eddie’s face fell, arms drooping at his sides; he didn’t expect you to have gotten so worked up over him not returning on time. He thought he could surprise you, that he could do something nice for your birthday, but the utter panic in your expression told him otherwise. He dipped his head down towards yours, hoping that he could sooth all the stress that had bubbled up inside you.

“I should’ve called--”

“No shit.”

Eddie clenched his jaw a little, taking a breath - he wasn’t about to get upset with you, he wouldn’t let himself, “Let’s go upstairs, okay?”

The impulsive side of you wanted to argue with him right here and now, wanted to grill him about why he didn’t come home and what he was doing. The more patient part of you, however, held back, shaky breaths heaving in your chest as you nodded with a twisted expression. You spun around on your heels and marched up the stairs, crossing your arms with a scowl; Sir Didymus sat just outside your open door, curiously waiting for you both.

Following just a step behind you, Eddie sighed to himself as he took in your rigid posture, realizing that he should’ve thought this through - after all, since your move to Long Beach, the two of you were essentially attached at the hip, doing absolutely any and everything together. Of course you would worry when he didn’t come home, when he didn’t call or give you a heads up - but, again, he’d just been hoping to surprise you, and hadn’t considered that a few hours would get you as stressed as you were now.

Back in the apartment, you took large strides towards the open window and retrieved your cigarette from the ashtray. To calm yourself down, you began to pace, watching as Eddie closed the door behind him and waited there a moment as if to collect his thoughts; when he turned to face you, you quickly looked away and took a deep drag.

“God, Eddie, I’m trying not to be mad, okay, I was just so worried and I thought maybe there was something you were keeping from me or that maybe you were in an accident or even dead in a fucking ditch, and I know it’s ridiculous to get so worked up over only a few hours but--”

“You can be mad.” He interrupted the inevitable rambling that was about to commence.

You had always struggled to express emotions considering the household you grew up in, so these past two years with Eddie had been a learning experience for you, which led to your feelings often spilling over when they became overwhelming. You shot him a confused look, still struggling to this day with the idea that it was okay to feel something; you bit your tongue so that you wouldn’t keep babbling, trying to collect your thoughts.

“I should’ve told you where I was,” Eddie started, walking the short distance from the front door to the kitchen, gently dropping the grocery bag atop the counter, “but I wanted to surprise you.”

You laughed smally, feeling stupid for getting so worried over seemingly nothing. Shaking your head, you took a deep drag from the cigarette and turned to face the window, eyes unfocused as you looked around. You dropped your head, beginning to feel more and more stupid the more that you thought about it; you could hear Eddie coming up slowly behind you.

“Get out of your head,” He instructed gently, to which you laughed again, “You’re probably already kicking yourself, am I right? As if you did something wrong?”

You narrowed your eyes at his reflection in the window - fuck, he knew you too well. Slowly, you turned to face him again, but you kept your gaze on the floor. Eddie took another couple steps closer, waiting for you to eventually look up at him.

“I’m sorry, princess.” He said simply, and the pet name nearly caused you to smile fondly; even after all this time, it stuck, and you figured it wasn’t going anywhere. You could tell in his voice that Eddie saw you resisting to grin, “I should’ve called, I just got caught up in the surprise.”

The corner of your mouth pulled up, and you looked at Eddie carefully through your lashes; his smile was gentle and sweet, eyes far more adoring than you thought you really deserved. Swallowing your trepidation, you asked smally, “What surprise?”

Eddie’s smile grew larger as he cocked his head, “Your dual birthday-anniversary surprise.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, relief slowly relaxing your shoulders as you took a final small inhale of the cigarette before tossing it out the window, “My birthday is not our real anniversary and you know it.”

You smiled fondly at the memory of meeting each other at that picnic table behind the football field, at the crazy fake dating scheme you had that ultimately led you to where you were now. It felt like a lifetime again that senior year happened, and yet it still felt as if it was only yesterday.

“So maybe we have two anniversaries.” Eddie teased fondly, his eyes taking you in as if you were still a breath of fresh air to him. Under those soft, adoring eyes, you could feel your ears growing hot even still.

You sighed affectionately with a shake of your head, crossing your arms as a gust of wind came up through the window; being near the beach, the air was always unexpectedly cold at night. As you took in the always pleasant sight of Eddie, you realized he had a bandage just above his collarbone, which caused your brow to furrow with concern as you looked between it and his face.

“What happened?” You asked, closing the gap between you two so you could worry over whatever the hell was on his neck; you wondered if maybe he nicked himself shaving, but the bandage seemed far too large for that. Did he hurt himself at work?

As you reached for the bandage, Eddie laughed, capturing your wrists in his hands before you could touch his neck. You met his eyes with confusion, to which he simply shook his head.

“That’s the surprise.”

Your expression deadpanned, “You getting hurt is the surprise? Geez, babe, how romantic.”

Eddie laughed again, fondly rolling his eyes, “Not hurt in the way that you think.”

Clearly enjoying your confusion, Eddie released your grip and reached for the bandage, hissing a little as he tried to gently peel it off. Your jaw dropped in both surprise and confusion at the injury beneath it, not prepared for what it would be.

It was a tattoo, though that wasn’t the surprising part, considering that Eddie was slowly becoming covered in them. No, what took you aback was that the tattoo was quite clearly your lips, done in a shade almost identical to the lipstick color you’d been trying just the day before. You stared dumbly at it, as if you couldn’t quite compute it, as if you didn’t quite think it was real.

When you finally managed to draw your gaze back up to Eddie’s face, he was smiling from ear-to-ear, eyes twinkling with clear delight at your stunned expression. You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times as you tried to find your voice again, eyes rapidly looking back and forth from the tattoo to his face and back again.

“You… got a tattoo for me?” Your tone was one of disbelief; saying it out loud made the moment more real, and suddenly your throat felt tight as if you could cry.

Eddie nodded with pride, “You like it?”

You stared at the replica of your lips, recalling the evening prior when you’d been testing out make-up samples that you’d gotten from work. Eddie always enjoyed watching you apply make-up, and of course lipstick was his favorite part; when he commented on a shade that he seemed particularly fond of, you leaned over and planted a loud, silly kiss at the base of his neck.

Considering that you crawled out of bed hours before him to get to your shift at the make-up counter, you didn’t see whether or not he’d ever cleaned the lipstick off; evidently, he must have worn it like a badge of pride all day until he could finally get down to the tattoo parlor and make it permanent.

Shaking yourself from your reverie, you looked at Eddie lovingly, your eyes a little more wet; god, you’d gotten so much more emotional since he entered your life, it was nearly ridiculous. Or maybe you’d just become more vulnerable, far less skilled at holding back when it was just the two of you alone.

You cupped his cheeks gently, being extra careful not to go near the fresh tattoo, “God, I love you.”

The smile he gave you was dazzling, mesmerizing even, “I love you, princess.”

You drew his lips down to yours, resting your forehead gently to his; Eddie hummed contently, whispering a tender “happy birthday” against your lips before kissing you fiercely.

addt. Author's Note | I'll try to keep this short and sweet. Thank you to everyone who has read this fic and watched it grow, to those that have been commenting and messaging with each update, and to all the incredibly fic writers I've met through this story! And, of course, a HUGE THANK YOU to my dear @eddiernunson for being so invested - you've helped me developed so many ideas, and it's truly warmed my heart to see someone else love the ice princess as much as I do <3 If anyone would like to be tagged in any future outings these two may have in store, please let me know!

@3rd-conchord @a-queen-blr @adelalaaa @adversary713 @avalon-wolf

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #em

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shaisuki · 4 months ago

Text

❝ SOME EFFORTS. ❞

✞ FEATURING. BULLY! GOJO SATORU AND GETO SUGURU

▶SERIES MASTERLIST

CONTENT WARNINGS. mentions of past abuse.

NOTES. got sidetracked by requests and i didn't really put up with this chap. apologies. i swear i only update when someone asks if i'm still continuing this fic.

SYNOPSIS. the awaited date and some memories ruins it for you.

the bistro was filled with numerous chatters. coming from patrons and customers alike. conversations over good food and the small laughter coming from them. surrounded by the warm glow of the lights like sun rays but more subdued. hitting the wooden interior with its soft light. creating a more laid-back atmosphere where everyone can wine and dine.

you were still on guard. geto sees how you scanned the room more than twice. avoiding eye contact at him and twiddling your fingers in the smallest of manner. he knows you were still wary of him. a bully or a former bully. it sets a bitter taste to his tongue. the knowledge of being one of your tormentors and realizing it later in life how he deeply regretted for hurting you.

he's not his former self anymore. he tells to himself. this date where you reluctantly accepted after many times of convincing you. saying that he'll make up all the years of the misery he caused. proving to you that he's no longer that person who causes you tears and pain but is it when he sees you. sitting across from each other with your gaze who couldn't even look at him and your withdrawn hands not making it nearer to where his rests.

“look at me.” there's tinge of authority in his voice but gentle when he spoke to you. it was like coaxing you to go outside of your box. “can't we unless talk?” rich coming from him who can make you say the filthiest of words while he used to torment you.

“i guess.” you briefly muttered. gathering every nerve to your body to look at him and you die a little bit inside how similar his eyes to his. a complete copy of him but you shake the thoughts. it was just you and him. “thank you for taking me out here.” your eyes briefly landing at the small frame pinned at the door.

a bit distracted and intimidated. gripping your cup filled with tea to prevent from squirming to much. it's not like everyday your former bully would invite least asks you for date. you were reluctant of course but geto is persistent to get what he wants and it earned you.

he picks good. the place didn't scream high-end or some posh place that their menus didn't have a price and the bill ending up as a month's worth of salary.

a ghost of a smile etched in his face at your response. there it is. what he has been waiting for. geto can't help but to admire you. the same round face that used to look at him. there's the softness in it and something new. perhaps determination? he can guess but nonetheless it isn't the time to guess what you're made of now. you've changed just like he is.

before any of you can continue, the waiter arrived with the food you both ordered. placing the plates in front of you and bids you both to have a nice meal.

you began to eat. taking a spoonful of the food and chewing softly. surprised that you managed to work an appetite despite how guarded you feel around him. “you and gojo fucked me up, literally and metaphorically.” you paused in between bites before continuing. “but you two never made me feel bad about eating. i'm kind of glad for that.”

shrugging as you placed your utensils down. taking sip of your beverage. your relationship with food was kind of rocky around in the edges. you never ate in public. afraid of the stares and judgement that strangers give to you when eating and never in front of someone. let alone as cruel as gojo and geto. surprisingly they never made you feel bad about it and encouraged you to eat with them when they're particularly in a good mood. often going as far hand feeding you.

you didn't beat around the bush and geto applauded you for that. it often got you in trouble when you talked back and defy them when you won't do a particular thing they want you to. they were such an asshole to you. “you look happy when you eat. simple gestures like that is hard to come by.”

pouring the creamer in his cup of coffee and adding two sugar cubes. geto stirs it with a spoon. he finds you looking at it. his large hand dwarfing the cup and it was like a teacup rather than a coffee cup.

“is it?” pausing and trying to sink in what he said. somehow your lips curved into a smile. it was rather a pained one. “and you, gojo would take pleasure in hurting me afterwards.” now, you killed the mood. the food gone bland in your mouth. feeling like your eating nails. the memories came flooding and it just made you ache in places. a phantom pain.

putting down your utensils down. your appetite's lost. everything's heavy now just like it was in the first time.

geto freezes at your words. it was like a punch in his gut. you were still stuck at that time but you never made it seem like it affected you and you were doing it just to make thing seems right. for his own comfort.

a pang of guilt hits in his chest. seeing you hung your head low and blinking back the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. he hears you mutter an apology.

he stands up. grabbing the back of his chair and placing it besides you. “hey, it's fine. it was never your fault.” he says, holding your cheek in his hand and forcing you to look at him. “it's been years, sugu. why does it still hurt?” you asked him. peering through your blurred vision of tears pooling at the corner of your eyes. you could have pushed him. recoiled at his touch and when you leaned in. giving up to his touch — you asked yourself why? and you understand it. why some people come back even though they were hurt by the same person and you weren't any different from them cause the best comfort will always come to the one who had hurt you the most.

a stray tear rolls down your cheek. suguru was quick to wipe it with his thumb gentle. cradling your face in his one hand. he looks at you and there wasn't any emotion shown in his face except for the conflicting emotions inside him. pain? guilt? and new emotions he never felt mixes with it and the more he stays with you, the more he feels all of it.

geto wasn't anything remorseful for what he had done. he and gojo had their fun playing around with you and what happened after that night — you disappearing without a trace and shoko's warnings that they shouldn't interfere with your life anymore despite the circumstances that you were working for both of them.

he did fucked you up and reduced you to this mess. the younger him would relish over it but seeing your tear-stained face. he felt worst. everything since you came back is forced. always driving you to a corner and if he really wants to build his relationship with you again. he have to change and he's willing to make it.

the weather's warm. with the slight breeze of wind sweeping throughout the park. the scent of the sakura blossoms wafts in the open air. after that little breakdown of yours earlier. geto decided that you need a breath of fresh air and the park is where he took you.

both of you remained silent. you in the most part. embarrassed at the sudden burst of emotions and thinking that you ruined the supposed date. “i'm sorry.” you softly muttered. glancing at the man besides you.

strands of his hair danced along the rhythm of the wind. he only hums. slowly inching his hands towards you. holding your hands in his. “don't apologize.” reveling in the softness of your hands in his and suguru's mind drifts for a minute. marveling at the sight of your hand in his. if things were just normal and he pursued you in a much kinder approach — is this how you two will be? except for the part where he's the reason why you suffered at his hands.

“i shouldn't have said that.” meeting his gaze and you suddenly felt bothered. “you were making it up to me and i ruined it.” blinking and biting your lower lip in guilt. you should have never brought it up.

geto sighs. he swipes his thumb in your knuckles. the gesture sweet and intimate with gentleness in their touch. “you didn't ruin it. i should thank you for accepting that date. it was pleasant to talk to you about things.....” his words trailed off. referring to what happened three years ago.

you only nod.

“can we start again?” your former bully eyes widened at your suggestion. “no talks of the past and all? just us two adults as friends?” and you have that effect on him. geto isn't easily swayed. it was the opposite he's the one that should be doing this and here you are.

there is no need to know what was his answer. it was a yes. without hesitation.

it was hard to tear his gaze off away from you. despite the earlier dilemma of your sudden outburst everything was going fine after that. you were just eating but why do you look so alluring. your cheeks puffing up in a manner while you ate.

“is something the matter, sugu?” pausing to glance at him and he reached to wipe the cream in the corner of your lip before licking it off with his tongue. your face burns in embarrassment at what he had done before looking away. clutching the hem of your sweater and ignoring the sudden rise of your heartbeat. face warming at the gesture.

geto chuckles at your reaction. his eyes narrowing and his pupils dilating. it is known that there is still the attraction lingering in your body after all the years you're away from them. too used to their touch that your own responds without the will coming from you.

it's going to be sweeter this time pursuing you.

gojo was running impatient.

he has been waiting all day. wondering what happened to the date suguru had scored with you and he did get the full detail of it. geto smirks triumphantly in front of him and gojo felt an annoyance towards him.

“she won't even glance at me, suguru.” he sighs exasperated. running his hand in his hair out of frustration.

“she knows you're in a committed relationship. you're engaged and to sayuri. don't compare (y/n) to your ex-flings and sayuri. she won't do anything that would jeopardize a relationship because of her.” geto explains. he knows all of it. girls didn't care about the others when they really liked someone and when he got the gist of you working under satoru. he quite abandoned the thought of other women. fully commiting to you. trying to get back to your life and make you his.

gojo scoffs. “what's your plan, suguru?” his blue eyes glinting behind his glasses. there's been change of plans. he's not going to woo you anymore. he's going to pursue you.

“nothing really.” he lied. “i know (y/n)'s going to give in to me. anytime if i played my cards right. you should know we're not the only men in her life. we don't know what really happened to her life the last three years.” he didn't lie on that part. geto knows someone in your life is trying to also pursue you. one that you owed deeply.

his friend remained silent. taking a long sigh before going back to his desk. he can hear the cogs running in his brain right now. he's out of it and he just can focus to you and only you. he didn't need to drag his ass to gojo even it was planned from the start that they would have you.

guess he's not sharing you to him.

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#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #anime x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu geto #jjk angst #geto x reader x gojo

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polarisjisung · 2 months ago

Text

LOVE ON THE COURT | 37 REGRET

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing

NOTES | new year in 4 hours and I haven't even finished this smau. gonna write some chaps of my smau in advance next time 🧍‍♀️anyways I'm sure you guys can tell we're reaching the end, so what if jaemy/n never happens 😈

+ I feel like this chapter could've been better (proofreading it mightve helped) but it is what it is 😭

Jaemin looks at Y/n, and despite the double doors of the lockeroom finally being swung open, he looks at her, and only her.

Her tear stained cheeks, her ragged breaths, her bloodshot eyes, they all make the guilt biting against his tongue sharper.

The palm of her hand pressed firmly to her forehead only causes his mind to run, an unwanted whistle stop door down memory lane. Every moment comes back to him, his ignorance, his resentment, his rashness — his incompetence however, is the most haunting.

All those years ago, Jaemin swore he knew Y/n better than she knew herself, her habits, her mannerisms, her likes and dislikes. He knew it all. He knew her, truly and entirely, and yet he had been so quick to assume. He felt incompetent, like those years of friendship had amounted to so little, like knowing her had meant nothing.

What use was knowing her in their best moments when he couldn't recognise her in their worst.

She wouldn't do that to him, he knew that. Y/n wouldn't betray him. But knowing wasn't enough if he couldn't believe it. Her hadn't.

And suddenly the shame and self reproach had never spoken louder to jaemin. He should have known better. Been better.

Truly, Jaemin never felt he had measured up to y/n when it came to their friendship, but something now made him feel so much more lousy than ever before, insecure. And perhaps, he had let those insecurities of his cloud his judgement.

If only he'd heard her out, if only he'd listened. If only he'd acted differently.

Jaemin sure wishes he'd acted differently. Her shouts, teary eyes and desperate screams for him to just talk to her played, a broken record in his mind.

But it was so much more than that, regret that stretched far beyond distinguishing lies from actuality.

It was about all the things he never noticed, all the small details that he should have noticed. A best friend would have noticed.

Sure, Jaemin had been hurt. He'd been through hell and back in the months after the competition, but never once did he go through it alone. He had his friends by his side, his brothers, and Y/n, she hadn't just lost him, she'd lost them too, without so much as a goodbye, never even knowing why.

She'd fallen apart and put herself back together right in front of him, and he'd never noticed a thing. The guilt ate him up inside.

What could have been, what he should've done, it was almost haunting.

Yet again, as he hears the shuffling of feet in front of him, the muffled protests of way too many voices by the door and the increasingly fast footsteps away from him, Jaemin feels like he should have known better.

Y/n was always impulsive.

And when he looks ahead of him, Jaemin realises she's long gone, shouts of her name coming from down the hall, confused eyes latching onto Jaemin.

"What the fuck hapenned in there Na?"

Jake's voice comes loud and clear but the captain in front of him looks just as dazed as before.

"Why was she crying?"

"She was crying?" Jaemin doesn't mean for his words to come out to monotonous, but he can't control it. It feels like everything is moving too fast for him, like he's a couple seconds behind of it all.

"Jaemin?" This time it's chenle, staring mouth agape at him.

"You look like you've seen a ghost what hapenned?"

He doesn't know how to respond, explain it all or find the words to even begin. And it's clear to the two in front of him.

Jaemin feels so far from reality that he doesn't even realise when Jake had grabbed him by the arm and started running, now standing not too far from the rest of their teammates.

That's when they see her, y/n, dishevelled, distraught and for the first time ever, absolutely enraged.

"You really thought we wouldn't find out?" she laughs at him, but somewhere also at herself, for having been so foolish, for not having tried harder.

Her father stands, bruised, but somehow just as proud as before. He smiles, pretentious. It's like he knows Y/n has no intention of letting him speak, because he doesn't even try to respond.

"You tried to break me down piece by piece until I had nothing, you started with Jaemin, my freedom, my childhood, and then you even took away yourself. Not that you ever were much of father. But you know what, you failed."

Watching y/n, jaemin saw her father in her, for just a moment, fleetingly, she stood proud, nowhere near as pompous as him, but just as angry. Still their differences were markable, how she was proud but not too cocky, how his anger seemed to be directed at life, and hers only at him.

"You failed because you never took anything away at all, you should've known the second you tried to sabotage my career you wouldn't win. But you tried anyways, really it's commendable. Your only achievement in life was taking away mine, so at least you accomplished something. But you know what, everything you did, all you tried to take away, it left me with so much more. And Jaemin? You must've been a fucking idiot to think we wouldn't figure this out. "

Jaemin let's a shaky breath out, some part of him relieved that Y/n didn't blame him for anything that hapenned.

He watches the rage bubble in the man across from him, the signs of his age now etched into his skin, he wasn't always like this. But as long as Jaemin could consciously remember, the man had never worn a smile, never made a kind gesture, never been pleasant. He wished he could be shocked at the situation in front of him, but the only word he could find was deserved. Y/n's father deserved it.

Still the tension is high, relief underlying but with a heavy silence laying overtop. The weight of words and memories extortionate. But the audacity of the man in front is unchanged, his hand moving so swiftly towards Y/n

"Ungrateful bi-"

It's Ningning who reaches out to stop the man, pushing him backwards and away from his daughter.

"I hope you don't think she has anything to be grateful to you for"

"I raised her." his protests are loud and obnoxious.

"Barely" Y/n scoffs, with so much more to say, but her tiredness catches up to her, "Just stay away from me, please."

It's easy to notice the sharp edge to her voice. Something that says she just needs a moment to herself.

And despite wanting to scream and shout at him, wanting to question him some more and push him a little further, Y/n walks away from the man, eyes stinging.

The weight on her shoulders is lighter, still present, but enough for her to let her sniffles grow further into full blown sobs with each step she takes away from the man. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

With the tears blurring her vision, she barely had any idea where she was going, her head hitting something hard as she strode forwards.

"Y/n?"

Y/n just wanted to be alone, in fact, the last thing she needed right now was to walk into Jay.

"I was looking fo-" he pauses, concerned as she tries to walk away, "hey it's okay, we don't have to talk about it, just let it all out" he says, soothing her slowly with a hand on her head, cradled in his chest.

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madamechrissy · 5 months ago

Text

Take Me Home Tonight

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ Law Professor Satoru Gojo x Student Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Gojo is like 29 here, reader is like 22 or 23. Nothing too crazy. But is Professor/teacher forbidden type love. In this chap- Fingering, teasing, orgasm denialexplicit sex, breeding kink, desperate needy GOJO (ANGSTY CHAP)

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ 8.8k

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ After passing your LSATs, your friends take you out to unwind. You never go out, so you are awkwardly agree, and you end up in the arms of a super hot man named Satoru. You end up screaming Satoru's name as he drops down on his knees before you, only to lose him in the club. All you have is his first name. Two months later, in your Criminal Law class, your heart stops. Your teacher? Professor Gojo. Or as you soon call him, Professor Dickhead. You can't fuck up your law school, and he won't fuck up his career, not just because he makes you wet in class, no, he's a dick. Right? That pout and blue eyes don't wreck you, right? - Lawyer AU

Chapter 10 ♡ ♡ Masterlist ♡ ♡ Playlist

♡ ♡ Chapter 11 ♡ ♡

Present

You both stand there now, right in front of Dean Yaga, who is sitting at his desk with your fight with Naoya on the damn tv, pausing when you both kiss after you’ve smacked him with a briefcase. Satoru’s hands are in his pockets, and he’s rolling his pretty blue eyes, as you nervously look down at your feet, as you clench your fists, opening and closing them, panic setting in.

Satoru was going to hate what you’ve done.

The evening before

“Hello?” You’d answered the door tentatively last night, after an exhausting trip back home with Satoru, and you instantly recognized these two, there was no denying the resemblance. This woman with snow white hair and dark blue eyes, and the man with silvery gray hair and brilliant blue eyes.

Fuck.

Those are Gojo’s eyes, except where Gojo’s were so kind, these two had the coldest gaze, so cold it made you shiver just to stand near them. They just stand there, too, looking so intimidating you shrink back now, haughty with this air that Gojo certainly did not have, looking right down their perfect straight noses right at you.

Satoru Gojo’s mom is decked out in some white fur coat, giving some wicked Cruella Duvill vibes, and his dad is wearing an expensive suit, arching a brow as he looks you up and down. They both spare you no pleasantries whatsoever, merely crossing their arms and looking at you with disgust.

“So you’re the new little whore, hmm?” His father asks, and it’s your turn to glare as you stand in your dorm, clutching onto this brass knob, your hand sweaty against it as you endure them.

“Excuse me? Watch your tone, I don’t care how much money you have, you don’t get to speak to me that way.” You say then, earning a raised brow and shared look between them.

“You’re the reason our son now has a record, and has embarrassed the family. You’re also the reason he lost that case, and are straining relationships with the Zenin now.” His father says, and you shrink back then.

“The source of all his problems.” His mom says, eyeing you critically. “He’s been talking of marrying you, imagine.”

Your heart drops.

What?

“As if we’d let you be in our family. A commoner, an orphan.” You blink back tears, as they sting your eyes, stepping back from the onslaught of Gojo’s mother and father.

“How…”

“Oh, we know all about you.” They push their way through as Gojo’s father scoffs and shivers like your dorm is so disgusting, shutting the door behind them. You step back, their presence is fucking horrific. “Isn’t hard to get information.”

How had Satoru ever had to endure these people!?

“Sure, let yourselves in.” You grumble, as they stand there, arms crossed, glaring at you. “I’m sorry about that fight, okay? Naoya threatened me and Satoru just wanted to protect me.”

“Why were you even there?” His mom asks. You sigh.

“I’m a good law student, and was helping Gojo with his case-”

“By spreading your legs and making him think he’ll marry you?” His dad asks sardonically, making you damn near sob right then, your heart pounding in your chest so hard you hear it in your ears.

“You have no clue about our relationship, and no clue who your son even is. Do you know all the hard work he puts in!?”

“So we’ll give you two options.” His mom sits now, daintily on your couch, whipping out her purse now, then she pulls out four fat wads of cash in rubber bands and tosses it at you. It hits you in the face, and you catch it, your eyes widening in horror.

“What’s this for, I don’t fucking want that!” You demand as your blood pressure is rising and making you hot, and when Gojo’s mom smiles, it’s so cold it’s eerie it sends shivers down your spine.

“Take this, it’s forty thousand. Plenty to leave and go to some other law school, it’s your best offer. We’ll make sure no one knows about you and our son, and you can start over somewhere else. Far away from here. Far from Gojo. You’ll never see him again, and you will never talk to him.” She says, as Gojo’s dad nods, his eyes unwavering.

You clutch the money, so much you can feel your knuckles pop, your eyes narrowed into slits now with anger at them. At their audacity, at their blatant cruelty, wanting their son so unhappy. “What the fuck kind of option is that!? Why do you get to determine your son’s fate! He’s thirty!”

“If you don't, we force him to quit, and come work for the family, and we’ll make sure everyone knows about the slutty little whore who tries to ruin our son’s career. We’ll make your life a living hell, and Gojo will be at our beck and call. We know people worse than Naoya, we’ll make sure if Gojo doesn’t, you’ll be gone for good.” You feel horror clutching at your chest at their words, especially Gojo’s mother.

You realize now, that they had paid for Naoya to win, and forced Gojo’s hand, a suspicion you had beforehand. They likely knew what the fuck Naoya has done, and that’s why he was acting so smug, because he had Gojo’s family backing him. He’d already made bail mysteriously, it all starts to make more and more sense, as their despicable nature makes you sick.

Fuck them. Fuck all of them.

You toss the money at Gojo’s mom’s face, and she flinches, her nose turning up, and you’re so mad, so mad you want to just scream and beat them to a pulp. “I’d never take a dime from you, and I’m not going anywhere. If you want to keep him out of my life, you’re going to have to go through me, and I dare you to try it.” Her fury radiates in your little dorm.

“You stupid little bitch!” His mom stands up, slapping you in the face then, you suck in a breath at it, glaring, it takes everything in you not to punch Satoru’s mom in her pretty, snobby little face.

“You have no right to control him, and you will never control me. You think just because you have power that you have power over your son’s happiness?”

Their eyes widen, and Gojo’s dad stands, so does his mom, and you realize you’ve made a mistake. You’re shaking so badly you might just collapse. “We’ll ruin you. We’ll tell everyone how you seduced our son, how you’re just a little whore, trying to get what you can get, and you’ll be kicked out of law school. Your career will be over before it started, and guess who will come back to us to save you?”

“Gojo will do anything for you. Is that what you want for him?” His dad says, and you feel sick, like you can’t even breathe as you stare at them.

“You all are fucking awful. You ruin me all you want, leave him the fuck alone.” You stomp over to the door, going to open it, and Gojo’s mom yanks you by your hair, making you gasp in pain and surprise. You glare up at her, and she’s smirking down at you then.

“Sounds like we’ll get him back with us, then, but trust us, we won’t have poverty trash in our family.” She hisses.

“You don’t have a say in his life. He’s done fine without you, fuck I’d prefer an orphanage over you two.” His mom shoves you into the door now, glaring down at you once more, and at this point his father is just looking at his nails so casually, as if this is common for her.

“You have a big mouth. Want it shut forever?” He asks softly, and you look over to him in horror.

“You all are not fucking serious. Death threats?”

“Promises. We need you gone, Dean Yaga already is set to transfer you far away, we paid him off.” Gojo’s mom’s words are like knives in your stomach, you feel nausea rolling over you in waves.

“If you really love him, you won’t put yourself in more danger.” His dad says, and you start to feel your entire body on fire, as they shove that money back in your hands, gripping your hands into fists.

“Why? What have I even done, you don’t even know me. You don’t even know your own son. What sort of parents are you?” You demand quietly, because now you wonder what the fuck they’ve done to him, now Gojo sobbing about how he doesn’t help anyone makes perfect sense.

They’d put that in his head, the insecurity Gojo hides behind shiny white teeth and a cocky attitude, one you now have learned is a cover, an act, so that he doesn’t get hurt. But Gojo could drop that act with you, fuck Gojo had said forever just the other night, and now they want to destroy it, destroy the happiness you’ve found, and if you don’t go along with it…

They’ll hurt him.

“We let him be a lawyer if you go. You want that, don’t you?” His mom asks, and you’re sobbing now, so broken as you imagine what they’ve done to the man you love growing up. How had he become such an amazing person from them?

“Please don’t do this. I swear I would be good to him. I’ll give up school, law, don’t make me give up Toru.” You beg, sobbing now, tears running hot and sticky out of reddening eyes. They show no caring, no remorse, staring at you with cold eyes that look like Gojo’s, but they couldn’t be further.

“Toru, huh? Well if you love him, you’ll leave.” They shove you, and they walk out, and you collapse on the couch, crying into your hands, feeling so damn pathetic, so helpless, so alone. They had so much power, so much control, and here you were, just trying to be with the goddamn man you love, and it’s like the world is against you.

You can’t do this to Satoru. You can’t.

You sob and sob and sob, and ignore Gojo’s calls, until you shut your phone off for the night. How can you do that to him, how can you be so selfish you ruin his life? Remembering that moment he left that courtroom for you, and that now he has damn near ruined his career to protect you…

Were they right?

Were you horrible for him!?

Present

“You’ve made a smart decision, transferring.” The Dean says then, and Gojo’s mouth drops, sputtering as he looks at you in shock. You struggle not to break into the tears you’d been in this morning, as you watch the love of your life slowly lose his mind over your actions.

“What the fuck!? No she won’t be! This is the best law school-”

“In Japan. Not worldwide.” He cuts Satoru off, and your eyes squeeze shut as you know Satoru is going to fucking lose it.

“Excuse me!?” Satoru screams, slamming his fist on Dean Yaga’s desk now, and you can’t control the tears that fall anymore, you just sniffle them up.

“America, Harvard law. You can’t get more prestigious-”

Gojo cuts him off with a maniacal laugh, mirthless as he runs his hand through his white hair. “America! America? The fuck?”

Dean Yaga strokes his beard with his hand, sighing and leaning back in his office chair. “It’s her best shot, she’ll be hugely successful and as far away from you as she can be. Her other option is to never do law again, and forgo any financial aid for school ever again, disbarred for life.”

Satoru picks up Dean Yaga’s papers, flinging them all across the room, floating around in the quiet office. “Then I’ll leave. Then I’ll move with her.”

“You’ll stay here if you even want her to have that chance, or her career is ruined forever.” Satoru turns to you then, gripping your shoulders, staring at you with insane blue eyes, shattering your heart into pieces.

“You can’t have been okay with this, where’s the fighter? Where’s the girl that smacked that piece of shit Naoya with the briefcase? Where is forever?” He demands, tears filling his own eyes as he shakes you, and you just shatter, unable to even look at him, turning away and burying your face, sobs wracking your body as he shouts your name.

“Leave her be, she made the best decision for both of you, and it clearly was not an easy one. If she didn’t you’d lose your license to do law, and both of your careers, Satoru.” He says, and you hear Satoru’s fist punch something then, making you jerk from the noise.

“Fuck that, really after all I’ve done? You don’t have the power to get rid of my license.”

“I don’t, but others do. She made the right decision. If you care about her you’ll support that, and you won’t conduct yourself this way again with a student.”

Satoru scoffs then, as you peer at him through watery eyes. “As if I’d want anyone else. Nah fuck this, I’ll just leave law, then-”

“Toru, you can’t, you can’t.” You say pleadingly, looking at him with growing fear, of what his parents will do if he won’t. “Toru I chose this.”

He glares now, shaking his head and grabbing your face between his hands, palms freezing cold on your face. “No, you didn’t! He did!”

“It wasn’t even-”

“No! You won’t go anywhere.”

“She will be prestigious, it’s an ideal situation for her, a full ride scholarship to Havard law? Kids like her from such a background can only dream of it.” Dean Yaga says, and Satoru goes to punch him then, only stopped by you yanking on him desperately.

“Toru, no. Please.” You whisper, pleadingly holding his shoulders, and he stops then, heaving breaths, shaking his head again as if to wake up.

“This won’t stand.” Satoru says, and Yaga sighs, rubbing old tired eyes. “You want her to leave everything she knows?”

“She already is set to start in a week. She’ll be better off, Satoru. Now, you’re both dismissed.” He says, and you run out, as Satoru is chasing you, but how do you say it? How do you leave!? The only place you ever felt like home.

“Stop fucking running, stop it.” Satoru yanks you then, his eyes full of confusion and hurt, then when you pull out that envelope from your laptop case, and hand it to him, and he opens it and sees the money, his face drops. You watch realization dawn when he opens it and sees the money. “No…”

“I don’t want it. You take it and burn it for all I care. But yes, if I don’t do this, if I don’t leave and never see you again, Gojo they’ll force you back to the company, and they’ll… get rid of me. Forever. This is our best option so you can still do what you love, I can’t take that from you.” You whisper, and his entire face falls, his beautiful face so forlorn it devastates you.

“The fuck, what’d they say? What’d they do to make you run like this?” The courtyard is gathering around the spectacle that is you two now, and he’s just pulling you closer, cupping your face, struggling to understand.

“They were threatening me, and you if I don’t disappear… they’re horrible, those connections with the Zenin, they have too much power, I can’t let them hurt you-”

“Nah, fuck this. Fuck all of this.” He stomps back into the office, and you follow him, trying to stop him as he slams back into the Dean’s office.

“Satoru…” The Dean says tiredly, and Satoru laughs then at him, yanking off the lanyard and slamming it down.

“I fucking quit.” He says, turning then and the dean stands up.

“You won’t quit, or she won’t even go to Harvard. That’s not an option, or part of our agreement.”

“You’re fucking in on this with my parents, aren’t you?” He demands, looking at him, only for the dean to look down.

“I’m sorry, Satoru but-”

“You are, you are with my parents, and for how long!? They were in your pockets, they weren’t deep enough?” He asks through gritted teeth, big fists clenched so hard you see the veins are raised.

“Listen to me, this is how you stay away from charges, of not just being with a student, but purposefully throwing a case and assault on Naoya. You’ll do potential prison time.” He says then, and Satoru laughs, even crazier.

“I’d lawyer my way out of it, who do you think I am? I’m Satoru Gojo, I can do whatever the hell I want.”

“Then your reputation is ruined. At least this way, your parents will fix it and sweep it under the rug, but only if she leaves. Don’t you see she’s sacrificing herself for you? Don’t be stupid, take this opportunity-”

“You think I care about myself? Nah, fuck you. Oh and let my parents know I’m visiting, we’re gonna have a nice chat.” He drags you by the hand as he walks out, rushing past groups of onlookers and eavesdroppers, and he takes you all the damn way until you’re in front of his car, finally letting you catch a breath.

“Satoru just let me go. You’ll ruin your life for me, don’t do that please!” You’re a mess now, feeling your throat constrict, your chest tightening as you beg the man you love to just let you go.

He cups your face then tightly, staring down at you, his eyes a whirlwind of emotions. “I’ll do anything for you, anything. You’re my life, you, baby. There’s nothing else for me. Why can’t you see that?”

“Oh, Toru…” You’re sobbing now, as he slams his lips on yours, as he hungrily pulls you against him, kissing you over and over, and you melt then, how can you leave him, how could you live? “I don’t know how I’d live without you. My oxygen, my sun, gone.” He’s trembling as he keeps kissing you, pressing you against his car, to a growing audience.

“There’s no living without me, brat. You can’t get rid of me.” He says then, and you both laugh through your tears, desperately clinging to him, as his strong arms wrap your waist, as you are terrified of what the fuck was going to happen, but all you can think is how good he feels, how you can’t let him go.

The murmurs of the onlookers are just static in a television to the sound of your and Gojo’s labored breaths as you stare into each other’s eyes. You know he’s upset you thought of it, of giving up, because of your fear of him being hurt, and fuck if that doesn’t cut deep.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I should have told you, I-”

“No, no, I understand. They’re pieces of shit, and intimidating. Did they hurt you, baby girl?” He whispers, caressing your cheek, and you shake your head, throat tight with emotion as he bends low over you.

“Your mom just slapped me and pulled my hair, that’s it.” Gojo’s grip tightens as you speak, his teeth clenching together, pretty features devastated.

“The fuck?” He bites out.

“Nothing harsh, she’s kinda weak. Prissy. A bitch.” Satoru smiles sharply then, through his own emotion, brushing back your hair and taking shaky breaths as if stroking your hair calms him too. As if he needed you to be real, just like you needed him to be.

“You sure could say that. Now go get your shit, you’re moving in with me.” You gasp in shock, he can’t be serious.

“I can’t!” You say, and he shrugs, kissing you softly, over and over, until for a moment you’re just a girl in his arms.

“You sure can. I’m so rich I could never work again, so fuck all this, and they’ll have you out of here anyway. You’re packing your shit today. And I’ll figure my piece of shit parents out.”

“They’re dangerous, Toru.” You whisper, and he sighs, his lips set firmly.

“I know they are, you have no clue how dangerous, but you underestimate me, little brat you know that?” He is opening the car door then, looking back at the growing crowd of students. “We have an audience, how cute… you really want them to watch us fuck?”

“Satoru oh my god, how can you think about that right now?” You demand, sliding in the seat now, a blushing mess, and he smirks, buckling you up, leaning down across you, as you inhale that scent, the one you never want to leave your senses. He slides next to you then, on his side, starting the car with a purr.

“You think I don’t always want you? You think I would let you leave me?” He starts the air, it blows cold on your overheated skin, leaning across to kiss you once more, so deeply, and you exhale, pressing up for more, as he ignites that tension in your tummy. “You won’t leave me.”

“I don’t want to, I’d be miserable for the rest of my life, Toru, but I love you so much I had to try to protect you.” He laughs softly, thumbs brushing aside the fresh onslaught of tears, then over your swollen lip, pulling it from your teeth.

“It’s my job to protect you, not the other way around.”

“No, it’s our jobs to protect each other, stubborn man.” You whisper, resting your foreheads together as he caresses your waist with his long, gentle fingers, hands overtaking it, your breaths intermingling.

“We will figure it the fuck out together, do you hear me? Now, you’re grabbing what you need for the night, we’ll get the rest of your shit out tomorrow.” Your heart races at his insane plan, was there a plan really?

“This is fucking insane. What’s our game plan?” You ask softly, and he just smirks down at you.

“That’s for me to worry about.”

“Satoru, don't you dare try to sacrifice yourself or something! You can’t go work for them.”

“You mean like you just tried to sacrifice yourself?” He demands, raising a brow, then he dials a number as he begins to drive, making you tense. “Yeah, it sure the fuck is me, your favorite son. Heard you met my fiance?”

Fiance!?

You’re staring with your mouth wide open, brows raised, as he winks over at you, so casually controlling the car and the phone, where you can hear the muffled noises of his mother’s screams.

“Mmm, here’s the thing mom, if you remember correctly, at age thirty I get half your company, as long as I get married. Remember? Mmm, so guess who’s hearing wedding bells.”

Your heart stops.

“You’re marrying her?” You hear the shriek clearly, making Satoru’s mouth quirk up at one corner.

“Sure the fuck am, and you knew that, that’s why you went after her. But you’ve gone way too far, smack me all you want but you don’t touch her. So guess what I’m gonna do with my half when I get my shares? Run your company into the fucking ground, till you have nothing.”

Satoru’s voice is so calm it’s eerie, and you realize how much power Satoru has, how much he’s been holding back, and your love for him grows more, as your hand rests on his thigh, encouraging him.

“Oh so now you wanna talk, huh? What a turn of events, you’re so sweet to wanna see me, Mother. Oh she’ll be with me, all right, so you can fix it, you’re gonna fix all this shit if you don’t want me to ruin you.” He hangs up, tossing the phone into the backseat, and you just stare at him, your heart racing, your breathing erratic.

“Fiancé? Did you just say that to piss them off?” You whisper, and he looks at you with a soft smile, eyes full of warmth.

“No, I said that because it’s the truth, baby girl. The best way to protect you, is to marry you.”

“Marry… marry me?” You whisper, and he sighs, stopping in front of your dorm now. “But they hate me, that won’t just go away, Toru…”

His phone rings, and he sighs, scowling at it, as you lean back to grab it, handing it over to him. “Yeah, what? I sure do fucking quit. Oh, did my mommy call you, how charming Yaga. You can fuck yourself with your dumbass offer. Oh I’m so popular suddenly, you wanna meet with me? Well you’ll have to wait, I have to fuck my fiance tonight. She’s not my student right now anyway.”

Satoru smashes his thumb down angrily, chest heaving, leaning his head back then and covering his face. “Toru, baby, look at me.”

He lets you lift his hands from his eyes, which are full of a myriad of emotions, you feel his pulse race under your thumb as you cup his jaw, your thumb right on his pulse point. “Now Yaga wants to make a better deal, but guess what, I’m just in my parents pockets here. Even when I wanted to be on my fucking own.”

“You’ve done this on your own, jesus I don’t know how you turned out this amazing, they’re fucking awful. I couldn’t stand ten minutes.” He places his hand on your chest, over your beating heart now. “So we’re meeting them?”

“Sure are, but you’ll have a ring on your finger.”

“That’s insane talk you know!”

“Is it? Is it? I would marry you right now. They can go fuck themselves, all of it can burn to the ground for all I care if it means you’re safe and happy. They can’t take that from me, they can’t take you from me.” He says, and you feel your heart swell in your chest, feeling a spark of hope amidst the chaos.

“You shouldn’t have to do all of this for me.” You say, forlornly looking down, and he squeezes your leg, bringing your attention to him, as those lights from the sun filter through the tinted windows of his car, illuminating the planes of his perfect features, taking your breath away for a moment.

How could you have left?

But you’re so scared for him.

“What, marry you?” His words alone make you tremble, they seem so insane, you try to process it.

“That can’t be what you wanted, how you wanted-”

“You think I don’t want to? You think this is just for protection?”

“Well it’s crazy, we barely just got together! We…”

“Do you want to?” He says then, softly, and you hear his vulnerability, you see it on his handsome face.

“Do I want to marry Satoru Gojo? Yes, of course I do. But because we want to one day, not forced to.”

“There’s no forcing it, just speeding up the process. You think there’s anyone for me, ever again?” He demands, and you sigh, shaking your head.

“I know you love me, I know how much. And Satoru I love you even more.”

“You can’t. There’s no way. You consume me. I’ll burn the shit to the ground for you, baby. Now, let’s grab your shit and get you home.”

Home.

****

Satoru is pouring you a drink that evening, as he has a marriage licence right on the table, Suguru had sped the process up for him. He’s there now, sighing as he looks at the two of you, and Satoru hands him a drink too. “Stay a while, Sugu.”

“One drink, then I have to go.” He sits next to you, and gently pats your shoulder, smiling sadly. “You okay, love?”

You take a sip of your drink, holding his hand for a moment and taking a shaky little breath. “Overwhelmed, confused, scared… but not even about not becoming a lawyer, more scared for my white haired angry boy.”

He snorts, and Satoru scowls at you both. “You two are chummy.”

“He’s your best friend, didn’t you all cuddle?” You tease, making Suguru scowl now, as Satoru’s scowl turns into a wolfy grin, wiggling his brows.

“We never cuddled, the fuck Toru.”

“Baby boy you were drunk, it’s okay.” He blows Suguru a kiss, and he rolls his eyes, sipping his drink.

“You sure you wanna marry this guy? He’s an idiot.” Suguru says, earning another glare and now a middle finger, Suguru holds back his laughter, and fuck it’s nice to just relax for a moment, in the middle of a shitstorm.

“You’re mad I’m off the market baby.”

“So sad about that. You two really going to do this?” He says then, looking between you both, and you hold Satoru’s hand, letting him squeeze it so reassuring.

Your husband.

Satoru Gojo?

It seems like some silly thing you doodled in your notebook.

“I’m sure, absolutely. I know it’s crazy, but… he’s crazy.” You smile back at Suguru, and he chuckles, sipping his drink again.

“You love it, brat.” He yanks you on his lap then, and you squeal at that, as he sits your right on him, dragging you down for a kiss. “Admit it.”

“No, Professor.” You whisper, and Suguru clears his throat, standing, and you wiggle to get off but Satoru pins your hips. Suddenly you feel so hot, especially as the alcohol is hitting your tummy.

“You two are too much to be around together, christ. But… you know, I have never seen two people like this, like magnets. So you won’t hear complaints from me, even if it’s fucking insane.” You melt at that, at his warm brown eyes smiling at you both. “Fuck if I don’t want that. Just… much less drama.”

“Aww, Suguru!” You stand, fighting Satoru’s hands off then, stepping over to Suguru. “Your support means alot, truly.”

“Of course, he’s my best friend. And fuck if I don’t hate his parents as much as he does. I’m guessing some courthouse wedding?”

“Yeah, that’s how it’ll have to be, we can always do something big later.”

“I am good with a shitty little courthouse wedding.” You say, and Suguru smiles, coming to hug you then.

“It’ll turn out okay, I’ll help as much as I can.”

“You better be there, not like we have many people coming. Need a witness.” Satoru says as Suguru pats your back.

“A witness huh?”

“He means a best man. Don’t you, Professor Dickhead?” You scowl at him, and he chuckles.

“I mean Best Man, absolutely. I know Nanami won’t come.”

“Mmm, let me talk to him. I’m meeting him in a few, he’s pretty upset about what he’s heard. He was worried about you.” Suguru says, and you flush a bit.

“You have the hots for Nanami too? Slutty student.” Gojo earns a smack, simply yanking you back on his lap, so intimate you’re embarrassed.

“Me, slutty? You!”

“Alright lovebirds, or should I say jailbirds?” You both laugh at that, and Suguru finishes his drink, setting it down on the sleek black table with a click. “I’m off to let Nanami know. Call you all later?”

“Thank you for your help, buddy.” He’s kissing down your neck, and you try to pull back, but Suguru is already leaving.

“At this rate I’ll be a Godfather.” He shouts, earning another laugh from Satoru, who is now sliding his big hands up your waist, splaying your ribcage, your body instantly responds.

You’re hot between your thighs, as desire pools in your core, your nipples perk right up for him, and his eyes go right there, as he presses kisses along your chest, making you whine out softly. He moans at the sound, gripping you tighter, his snowy white lashes lowering as his gaze gets lidded with desire.

“You like that idea, being a mommy, don’t you Miss Brat?” He purrs those words, and you bite your lower lip, wriggling just so, earning his eyes shutting tightly, before looking back up at you, his eyes hazy storms.

“You just wanna knock me up and keep me home.” He grins wide, his teeth glinting as he shocks you then, picking you up. You wrap your legs around him, clinging to his shoulders, your fingers gripping on the soft material of his fancy dress shirt, as you’re pressed against him.

“Don’t worry, you’ll still get to be a lawyer, I promise you I’ll make sure it happens, okay baby?” You blink back tears, sucking in a breath as he carries you to his bed, kissing you over and over, until you’re consumed by him, but when weren’t you consumed by your Toru?

“I know. Mnh. I know.” You whisper back, as he lays you on the bed now, eagerly unbuttoning your white blouse, pulling it apart to reveal the black lace bra underneath. He moans softly, licking his lower lip, before lapping at the lace with a hot tongue, lavishing your nipples through the fabric.

You’re moaning at the pleasure, your body arching up, as he yanks the cups down, mouth latches onto one, biting gently, making you whine and writhe as he plays you so well, his hot hungry mouth devouring you. He’s lavishing the other one now, as his hands are moving down, his thumbs hooking under the waistband of your skirt, pulling it down your legs, which tremble for him.

“You’re so beautiful, baby girl. So beautiful, you make me want to break you.” He whispers against your skin, and your eyes widen at that, your body tensing at the tone, it ends up making you even wetter.

“Break me? Toru, you make me sound so fragile.” You whisper, your voice shaky as his hands slide up your legs, pushing aside your underwear, and his thumbs press against your swollen clit, it twitches under his touch, as your hips buck up, your head falling back, exposing your throat to him.

Satoru is kissing down your throat, biting at your pulse point now, you’re soaking his hand as he continues torturous circles, when you want more, you want his cock inside you. You want him to fuck you so good you forget every problem you both have, want him to fill you.

He keeps you on edge, smirking against your collar bone as he feels you getting so needy, so whiny. “You are so fragile, so perfect. You’re mine, all mine. You’re not leaving me again.” He says, his voice a gruff whisper, and you realize he’s still upset about what happened, of course he is.

“I should… mmm… have told you. I was s-scared… Toru, fuck! Please, more, please!” You beg, as he continues his little circles, leaning up and looking at you. You unbutton his shirt with shaky hands, sliding it half way down his shoulders, and he shrugs it off, pulling your underwear down.

Satoru leans back and is spitting on your exposed pussy now, the hot saliva dripping down, his fingers move faster finally as he spreads it around, eyeing your cunt hungrily. You’re wordlessly arching your hips up, begging for his fingers, and finally he slides two in, just barely, making you grind down on them, his eyes watching you, so intense you feel like you’re going to combust.

“Please, Satoru, I’m sorry, I just didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know how to handle them, I just-” Satoru shoves his fingers deep. “Ah!”

“You can’t ever leave me, baby, don’t you know?” He leans over you, that madness on his face, his movements frantic, and your eyes roll back, your legs twitching as he works you so good you’re close, so close.

“T-Toru… yes, there, fuck I- Ah!” He yanks his fingers back then, and you cry out in emptiness, as your cunt now pulses around nothing, staring at him with wide eyes, and he’s grinning. “Please…”

“I think you need a lesson, even if you’re not my student right now. A lesson about always trusting me, yeah?” You take several breaths, overwhelmed, looking into his eyes, then his mouth crashes onto yours, his tongue delving in deep, and your words are stuck, lost into his mouth as you kiss him like your life depends on it, clinging to him.

And it does, his love is the air you breathe.

Your hands are in his silky white hair, and his hot lips are kissing down your neck, down your chest, his teeth scraping over your skin as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking it into a tight little peak again, making you arch up with a cry of pleasure. You cling to him desperately, lost in the madness that is Satoru Gojo’s energy, his passion, his love.

“Please. Please.” You beg now, and he shoves his fingers back in, curling them up and hitting your spot, the spot that blinds you, and you’re shattering, closer and closer to the edge, only for him to pull them out again. “Toru!”

“You’re not leaving me. Do you hear me?” He says those words through his teeth, furious at you clearly, sucking on his fingers and moaning for a moment.

“Satoru, Satoru, I need you, I need-”

“You want it, to cum baby?”

“Please, I’m sorry… Toru I was scared, fuck. I can’t imagine how life would be… please, please fuck me. Need you.” You reach down, and he yanks your hand, squeezing your wrist and shoving it above your head, shaking his own, looming over you menacingly.

And fuck if you’re not even wetter, as your pretty breasts heave with each breath under him. “Beg for it, for me to get you off. You’ve not been a good girl.”

“Please, I’ll be good. I’m sorry, I am. Please. Toru I love you.” You blink out tears, glistening by the lights of the room, embedded in the ceiling, and Satoru shakes his head then, kissing your sticky tears off your cheeks. “Please let me feel you in me.”

“But you’re not getting it yet, not until you promise me, baby girl. Promise me you’re not going anywhere. Promise me you’re mine forever, that you won’t sacrifice yourself like that again.” He speaks through his teeth, furious, squeezing your wrists.

“Toru, you were gonna if I didn’t!”

“That’s different!”

“It’s not, it’s not. It’s not. I need you too!” You yank him by his hair, making him moan out in pleasure, pulling his lips down, arching your hips, feeling his hardness under his slacks against your thigh. He pulls back, exhaling, his sweet breath tickling your swollen lips.

“I protect you.”

“I protect you!”

“No, you’ll be too busy with a baby soon, keep you occupied and keep you here.” You blink rapidly.

“You… what!?”

You’re panting, your eyes searching his, his thumb circling your clit, keeping you right there, right on the edge again, and it makes you pathetic. “You want it don’t you, me to put one in you? You’ll be my wife soon, won’t you?”

His wife.

“Yes, your wife. You… are gonna be… my husband.” You say softly, and he nods just a bit, his blue eyes insane now, his thin white brows knitted together, as he starts kissing down your neck again, then lower, lower. “You… are gonna be my… husband. Mine.”

“Yours, yours baby. All yours.” He’s biting your thigh then, hard, and you wince at the pain, your hands locking in his hair. “You think you deserve to cum?”

“I want to. Please. Please.” You say, head rolling side to side as you feel that hot breath on your eager pussy, as he spreads the plump folds, glistening with your arousal and his spit.

“I don’t know if you deserve to. You were a bad girl.” He smacks your pussy then, making you jump.

“I promise, I promise, I will be good. I fucking love you, I need you, Satoru, I won’t again-”

“But do you deserve to cum? Answer me.” He whispers, his voice so soft, so taunting, and you feel your eyes fill with tears of frustration as he flicks his tongue just over your clit, before smacking it hard again. It stings so bad you scream out. “Maybe that’s what you deserve.”

“Yes, yes I do deserve to cum, I need it, please!”

“But I’m upset with you, baby, I’m upset you’d leave me like that. I need you to need me as much as I need you.”

“Toru, I do! I do! I was… I was so scared for you. Please.” You’re sobbing as he swirls a tongue around the edges of your entrance, teasing but not giving you what you need. When you yank at his hair again he smacks your hand, eyes narrowed as he glares at you.

“No, Miss Brat. You have to need me so much it hurts.” He says, his voice so raw, and you’re falling off that edge.

“I do, I do, please, Satoru, I need you so much, I do! You’re… m-my everything, there’s nothing but you.”

“Mmm, I don’t know.” He’s licking you deeper now, between your lips up that slit that’s soaked, releasing more and more wetness, making him moan. “I don’t know if you’ve learned a lesson.”

“Toru! Please, fuck me. Your dick, please.” You’re desperate as you pull on him, but he only laughs, tickling you more, shaking his head. “Toru now you’re just being mean!”

“Aw, poor baby.” He click his tongue, smirking so goddamn sexy with that mad look making his eyes dilate to pinpoints, making it hard to even look into them. You try to gasp for air as his hand squeezes your throat. “Now you know just a bit of what I felt, but not even close.”

You’re just crying softly, as he chokes you, two fingers back inside your eager hole, which sucks them in greedily. He’s looming over you, working you as only he knows, until you’re drooling out the side of your mouth, until your body is going numb everywhere but your sore little achy cunt.

“Please.” You manage to whisper, before gasping as he scissors you with his fingers, yanking them just as you get close, making you curl up as he releases your throat, laughing darkly.

“Pathetic, but not as pathetic as you make me. You know better than to try to leave me, you’re only mine. No one can touch you.”

“No one would have. No one. It’s all you. It was for you.” You pull at him, unzipping him then, and he groans, burying his face against you as you stroke his cock, so hard and hot in your hands. “Toru I’d have died alone.”

“I’d have never let you leave.” He huffs then, and finally, his cock is shoved inside you, and his eyelashes flutter shut, his full pink lips parted in a gasp, as he stretches you out so fucking good you almost cum, so goddamn on edge from his teasing, so wet from how obsessed he is, how obsessed you are.

“I won’t. I won’t. No matter w-what- fuck! Ah- they do.” You plead, and finally he fucks you in sure, hard thrusts, fucking you with his huge cock, slamming your cervix over and over. You scream out at it, as he’s biting your neck so hard it hurts, you see stars at the combination.

Satoru’s thumbs press into your pelvis, until he shoves your thighs up so high, your knees are backwards on the bed, on either side of your head almost, and you hiss at the stretch, as he presses them even further up. Your ass is in the air, hips raised up, as he licks his lips, hungrily staring at you, drips of sweat beading down his perfect nose.

“This is how I need you, mating press. Perfect for fucking a baby into my wife.” He says huskily, and you wriggle, blinking rapidly, before he fucks into you deeper than he ever has, deeper than you can take it. “You want it, don’t you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” You’re squeaking out those words as he fucks you so good it’s blindig, and you start feeling it build up, you can feel yourself so close it’s painful, as his leaky tip bruises your cervix. Your walls flutter against him, only for him to pull out, and now you’re scowling, as your pussy throbs. “Please, please! It hurts.”

“Then tell me. Beg me.” You struggle to even form a word, your brain is mush, stupid, he’s got you so ready he could blow on your clit and you’d cum. You gulps as you yank on his arms, nails digging into taut, alabaster skin.

“Put a baby in me. Please, Satoru, please. Fuck me so good. Break me if you want to, just- ah!” He’s slammed back into you, his rhythm rougher and more brutal than he’d ever been with you, and you’re fading now, losing all your senses as he works over you, as his heavy weight is against your thighs, pushing so deep.

“Break you, baby, hmm?” You nod, and finally he kisses you, shoving in deep and grinding his cock, making you a trembling mess, making your cunt gush around him as you’re right there, right there.

“Pl-ease. Please. Lemme cum. Please.” You beg more, shameless, you don’t care, you almost lost him, but he’ll never let you go. And you never want him to go. No, as you cup his beautiful face, and watch him through watery eyes, drinking his sighs in, absorbing his being.

You don’t want him to let you go.

How could you have lived a day without him, without Satoru?

“Then you’ll be a good girl?” You nod eagerly, with a neck that’s sore from his choking.

“Good. Good. Swear.” You’re soaking his length, dripping down the veins and ridges of Satoru’s cock, and he licks up your jaw line, to your ear, huffing his words into it.

“Then you’ll let me fuck a baby into you. Won’t you? Never leave me. Stay with me. Forever.” You nod quickly, gulping as you cling to him, as you fall into the abyss that is him, that is you and him.

“Baby in me. Stay. N’leave… ngh…” You’re barely able to form words, as he laughs against your earlobe, tickling it, and you feel that pressure build so high you think you’ll explose.

“Good girl. You can cum, as long as you know who you belong to, as long as you know where you belong.”

“Under you.”

He groans, pulling back and staring. “Good girl.” Finally he slams his lips down, and thrusts into you so hard it’s brutal, but you want it, you want the pain, you want his pain, and it brings you closer and closer.

“Can I? Please!” You whimper out against his lips, and he bites your lower one, making the air sting it as he blows on it now.

“You can cum now.” He says softly, and you need no further urging, so goddamn on edge you can’t stand anymore, you cum so hard he pauses, groaning and gripping you as she pulses around his cock. As she squeezes his shaft, as you’re shaking under him, gasping for breath.

“Toru! Toru!” You sob the words, clinging to his back, nails digging in as you ride the wave of your insane orgasm, the one that rolls in waves around you, and you pull back to look up into those eyes. Insane, emotional, lustful… beautiful.

“Beautiful.” He whispers, and your body wracks as your orgasm lingers, slow and powerful, until it’s sapped everything.

“You’re beautiful.” You whimper as he’s flipping you then, spreading your thighs wide and shoving his cock to the hilt. “Ah- fuck! So big… you’re too big… it’s all too much I can’t-”

“You can, baby, you will. You will.” He’s smacking your ass hard, so hard you black out damn near, shoving his cock in again, gripping your ass roughly with his huge hands, before he’s pulling your hair, yanking you up on your knees, pressing you down hard on his cock. “That’s it, that’s it.”

He’s pulling your hair back so hard it’s painful, your back and neck curved so insane, and he’s pounding your pussy, you hear the smacks in the room, your wet pussy so goddamn loud. “Love you. Need you.”

“Do you need me baby?”

“Yes! Yes!”

He’s exhaling, hips gripped by his big hands as he holds you still. “Arch this ass up.”

You do as he says, and he’s pressing your head into the bed, angling his body so he fucks even harder, so his curved pink tip is wrecking all your spots, as his balls are smacking against your clit. You’re drooling on the bed, losing it internally, feeling that insane build again, until you’re cumming on his cock, and he hisses, pressing in, your cunt drooling wetness like your mouth.

“That’s it. You know who you belong to?” You mumble into the bed, and he lifts you up then, cupping your face tightly. “Who?”

“You, belong to you. You. You.” He’s fucking you every time you speak, hard thrusts that break your mind, that break your body.

“Take all my cum, then, make me a baby, yeah?” You nod, wordless, and he slams your head back down, holding it down with one hand as he fucks you mean, his cock bullying your walls, and you can’t barely make noise, you can barely even breathe while he’s wrecking you, while he’s owning you.

You are his.

He is yours.

You can’t even give a fuck about your college, about your career, about his parents, about anything but that cock, but those hands, but those gorgeous eyes that you get lost in. You see them even as your face is shoved in his blankets, even as your mind is shot, even as you see blackness behind your eyes, as you drink in Gojo’s essence, his everything.

“Make that baby, yeah? Take all of it.” He orders, yanking your hands behind your back, pulling them and using them for leverage to fuck harder, faster, pressing inside and making you cum so hard you are broken. You’re melted, your mind shot, as your walls tighten and quiver, as your body is taut. “Fuck… that’s it, suck it all out.”

At his urging, your pussy throbs more, and now you feel it, hot endless streams of his cum, as he pumps you so goddamn full. You’re burning inside, as you scream into the blankets, breath taken, twitching and trembling legs as he pumps his cum deeper, moaning behind you.

He lays on you then, turning your head to him, breathless as you, pressing his cum in further, until you’re cumming again from just that, from the insane pressure, from the energy of him. His energy that you can’t even begin to fathom losing, the man that’s your everything. The man you’re so fucking scared to lose, but also simultaneously afraid you’re horrible for.

“Don’t… wanna… ruin your-”

“Shut the fuck up, please. You never could ruin… ah… anything. Nothing.” You both are whimpering now, as he’s pumping in you, as you’re dripping his own cum down his cock, as your eyes roll back and he pulls your hair so hard.

“Scared. I’m scared.” You cry out, and he exhales, shaking his head, kissing you so deeply with his sweet lips as he pumps and pumps your sensitive cunt, bringing you to tears.

“I’m here. I’m here. I’ll fix… fix it. Marry you, baby. Marry you.”

“Please, please… forgive me.” You sob, brokenly, and then he’s resting his head in the crook of your neck, clutching you tight with one arm, as the other strokes your hair gently.

“I understand it, I’d do the same. You’re amazing. You’re so fucking sweet, you’re so perfect baby. But I’m selfish.” He cries softly, and you shake your head, looking back at him and kissing him over and over, a hand cupping his face as his weight is firm against your back, as you’re both covered in sweat, in tears, in cum.

“You’re not selfish, you know what you want, you fucking get it. And Satoru, I’m so ready. I am ready.”

“Ready? You sure?” You nod, and he exhales, pouring his love into every eager kiss, as you both have not really any fucking plan, as you’re both completely fucked, as you’re going to get married as a tactic, as a damn whim.

But you are. You are…

“I’m so fucking ready.”

A03 chap: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56895382/chapters/144669811

Chapter 12

#gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #lawyer gojo #satoru gojo #jjk satoru #jujutsu satoru #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jujustu kaisen

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