#there's just some stiff competition | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

biteyoubiteme · 3 months

Text

redlightdesign

fem!reader x hyunjin

synopsis: you get tattooed by your favorite tattoo artist.

warnings: !!!🔞!!! tattooartist!hyunjin, tattooing, needles, pain, oral (f!rec), use of teeth, overstim, multiple orgasms (f!rec), squirting, fingering, pussydrunkvibes, subspace kinda, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 5.2k

an: I want a new tattoo </3 feedback appreciated! [m.list] not proof read sorry ;-;

You didn’t think you would ever get a consolation let alone an appointment with redlightdesign. For over three years you have been submitting a request anytime their books were open. You set timers for when the form dropped to make sure you were one of the first to be seen but everyone was doing the exact same thing.

redlightdesign would make an announcement that the submissions were closed an hour later saying they were booked solid for the next three months. The process repeats itself and every time you pray you get a response.

Thirteen forms later and you finally got an answer. Your dream tattoo will be underway in a matter of weeks. You made sure to keep the perfect space open for the piece. Not a single artist is the right fit to do your idea justice the way Redlightdesign could.

Before you read the email you didn’t even think you would ever be picked, your thigh would just always be bare for the possibility that never would come to fruition. But sitting in a coffee shop on a Sunday morning avoiding finishing your homework for Monday's class you jump on the opportunity to check your phone when it dings. Post notifications for redlightdesign on since you started following them. Every time they announced open books or a dropped appointment you jumped to put yourself up for the running. You remember the magazine article Redlightdsign had been featured in that started your obsession. The anonymous tattoo artist is based in Seattle and New York, traveling across the states to get a wider audience. Not that they needed the help, they were globally known, with people submitting forms all around the world, purchasing plane tickets after they confirmed an appointment.

It was stiff competition and the anonymity of the artist was sacred to each client. There was barely any information about Redlightdesign on the internet besides the finished product, and the address to their studios was only given out just before your appointment. Once the details of the New York studio had been doxxed online and redlightdesign had stopped working for a year, packing up and shutting down in well deserved retaliation. When they came back to their socials they made it clear the next time they wouldn't stop for a year but quit entirely. No one shared any information after, only stating that Redlightdesign was one of the nicest people they have ever been tattooed by and a photo of the beautiful work after.

But there sipping on an almost empty drink avoiding work that needed to be done you felt your pulse race just like every other time you've submitted a form. Only this time your stomach bottomed out seeing the email that popped up in your inbox a few minutes later.

h.rldesign/gmail.com Hi, I love your idea and sketches. I think this would transfer perfectly in my style. If we are to do the piece on the thigh at the size you want I think it's best we split the work into two appointments. My open slots for this would be January 9th and 10th. Let me know if these dates work for you and then I can get started on designing and cleaning up your idea. -redlightdesign

even just knowing their email address was shocking enough, seeing a response could have sent you into a coma. If Redlightdesign needed you on the 9th and 10th you would do everything in your power to be right at their door. You didn't care if you had to call in sick, you would put on the most convincing fake cough known to man; you would sell out stadiums with the performance if need be.

You couldn't type a response fast enough, needing to send in a confirmation just to know it was solidified. Within seconds you got a link for a deposit to hold the dates and a promise that Redlightdesign would be working on your piece asap. You were too excited to even think about your work anymore, sitting in the coffee shop staring down at your phone in disbelief.

It was only a few days later when the first drafts of the tattoo you would be getting were sent over for you to approve. You could tell the work had been drawn in a sketchbook and scanned to send in an email, the charcoal lines and highlights showing the detailed work. It was everything you could have hoped for, redlightdesign taking the amateur rendering of your idea and turning it into the masterpiece sitting in your inbox. They promised to have perfected versions ready when you arrived early on the ninth, reminding you that they would transfer it into the stencil and use a pen to finish drawing the finishing touches to make sure it flowed with your body just right. Make sure to eat before the appointment and don't wear any lotions on the tattoo area. Take care to remember we can take as many breaks as you want you have the day booked up with me so no need to rush through just to get it over with.

You made sure to dress appropriately. A pair of shorts you didn’t mind getting ink on in case any decided to ruin them. It was cold the morning of the ninth, a drizzle setting in as you made your way towards the address you had been sent before you had woken up. Even just seeing the street name and knowing this whole time you’ve been a fifteen-minute walk away from Redlights studio was bizarre. How many times have you driven by the building without ever knowing?

The email with the address had said the door would be open and to take the stairs up to the loft. The separate space on the ground level was a bakery, the sign flipped to closed. But as you felt the first droplets of rain you pulled on the handle for the door only for it to not budge. You check the address again to make sure it is right, you can see the windows to the studio above but the curtains are pulled shut. You were running over the email you could send to redlightdesign, reading it over once more when someone reached past you making you jump. “holy shit you almost gave me a heart attack,” you breathe your phone pressed to your chest.

The soft laugh of the person beside you is muffled behind the black medical mask they wear, long dark hair hanging on their brow leaving only smiling eyes glancing over you. “I'm sorry I was running late and didn't make it in time to beat you here,” they push their key into the lock twisting until it clicks, painted nails wrapping around the handle to hold the door open for you.

You give a weak thanks stepping into the little hallway leading to the stairs waiting for them to step in and follow.

You're trying hard not to make it seem like you're staring at them but it's almost impossible not to. Right in front of you is the person whose identity has been hidden from the public for years. You've tried to imagine what redlightdesign looked like since you read that magazine article. Now with the early morning mist still stuck to their hair you were seconds away from knowing exactly what they were like. Watching how their long fingers flipped over the keys looking for the one to unlock the loft door, how they used their shoulder to push open the door turning back to give you smiling eyes, waving you in.

They moved around to pull open the long cream-colored curtains, the gray light pouring in revealing the space. The walls have tacked up charcoal drawings, painted landscapes, and oil pastel flowers. A worn brown leather couch pushed to one side, heavy white blanket pushed back like someone had taken a nap there against the throw pillows. Tattoo bed next to rows of inks and past designs. On another wall a cluster of polaroids, stepping closer you can see its every tattoo that redlightdesign has done here. You're excited to see ones they haven't posted on their socials, so distracted you don't hear a closet door opening and the wheeling of a cart behind you. “I wanted to be set up so we could get started right away but,” when you turn you see them shrug. The view outside of the waterfront off in the distance matches some of the paintings done during different times of the day.

“It's okay I can wait, we're booked all day right?”

“yes that's right,” they go through their bag pulling out a large sketchbook, “here take a seat and we can go over some of these together,”

they sink into the couch pushing back the blanket to make room for you to follow. Your thighs touching before they hand over the sketchbook. You're amazed by the craftsmanship, and the detail put into each variety of the tattoo idea you have given them. No other artist has given you so many possibilities, maybe one of two but a whole spread dedicated to small details was never on the table. redlightdesign had taken time working through this with passion. “Wow,” you breathe not knowing where to look first.

“do you like it? It's a big thing, a tattoo of this size, and I wanted to make sure it really had all the elements you wanted in it while also not being too chaotic and messy. You see this one has less shading and seems more open but this one is heavy-handed if you're into that kinda style. I see you have other work done on your arms and if you want to go that way style-wise I think this one would be perfect,” they point at the one you've been focused on knowing that it was exactly what you wanted.

“It's amazing, they all are, I'm so impressed redli-“

“Hyunjin, you can call me Hyunjin,” they chuckle, “I should have introduced myself earlier but I was late and it slipped my mind I'm sorry,”

“no, it's okay thank you hyunjin,” you try the name in your mouth, “I think this is exactly what I want, better than what I could have imagined,”

“great I'm happy to impress let me get this printed in a stencil and we can add anything else after we find the right placement,” you watch as they stand moving to the corner with a desk, you can't see their face but know they've taken their mask off as they turn on the printer. “Do you live around here or was it a commute?”

“oh I live right up the street, I was surprised to see how close it was to my place actually,” you say over the sound of the scanner.

“that's good, sometimes I have people coming from all over it's fun to finally have a local visit,”

“I would have come out to New York if that's where you would have been,” you admit.

“I haven't been out there in a while, they are doing construction on the street the studio is on so I've been located here for a while now,” he states pulling out the stencil sheet. “I did a few different sizes to start with,”

he turns around and you're shocked at how beautiful Hyunjin is. In all the time you've thought about redlightdesign never did it cross your mind to account for prettiness but if you did your scale would be broken. You're still seated when he comes over and kneels in front of you.

“Can I?” he asks looking up at you, your hands in your lap covering your thighs.

“oh yeah sure,” you're flustered lifting your hands away.

“left or right?” he asks, holding two of the stencils over each leg.

“right,” your hands sinking into the couch as Hyunjin wipes his thumb over your bare thigh. He shows you the three different sizes and you decide on one before he asks you to stand in front of the mirror so he can place the stencil on.

“Here,” he mutters, being gentle to get the placement right in the first go. “We can always print more if you don't like it here,” he blows cool air over the purple lines traced on to make sure it's dry enough for you to move. He slides his hand behind the pit of your knee tugging your leg. You reach out to steady yourself with his shoulders, the backs of your hands feeling the tickle of his long hair hanging past his ears. He lifts your leg enough so that your foot is resting on his thigh, his hands slipping over your skin checking it looks good.

You love the way he's found the perfect spot on your thigh so that it flows with your body, “I think you got it first try,”

“Look in the mirror first just to make sure,” he lets you go, pulling himself to stand behind you so that you can see yourself.

“yes it's perfect,” and he nods, grabbing a purple pen.

“finishing touches then,” he gets back down in front of you lifting your foot back to his knee so that he can steady you. The marker is cold on your skin as he draws, adding lines and shading in spots to make the work blend better. When he blows on the wet lines of ink you shiver especially when he draws on your inner thigh, your skin so sensitive you swear you could imagine his fingers tracing shapes instead of the pen. “Perfect,” he states, giving your knee a tap letting you know he's done. “Let me set up and if you need the bathroom before we start I'd go now. I have water and a kettle for coffee over under the desk, and we can stop for lunch around let's say twelve or one-ish?”

You nod, taking your seat on the tattoo bed. He's set it up so that you're slightly leaned back but still sitting up. You watch him pull on black gloves and get all of the inks and needles ready, following a system you've seen done before. He clicks on a stereo the soft song playing in the background just loud enough for us to talk if we wanted to or just to listen. you adjust in your seat when you hear the sound of the tattoo gun whirring, hyunjins free hand stretching your skin in preparation, “The hard part will be around the knee so let's get that area out of the way,”

you nod watching as he starts, the familiar burn of the needle digging in but not too painfully. He was right that it was worse than some of your other tattoos but not unbearable. What distracts you is how concentrated he looks leaning over your leg, hair pushed back behind his ears but one strand hangs across his forehead, the corner of his lip between his teeth.

He starts to ask you small questions about yourself, the conversation leading to learning about him and how he got into tattooing. He talks about his art and the little things he likes. Both of you are so invested in one another that you don't even notice how far you've come in the day, lunch already rolling around before you know it. He's gotten through more than half the outline when he starts the loose wrap to keep it clean while you go out for lunch. The bakery is just downstairs offering lunch deals you can't refuse and when you get back upstairs both of you sit on the couch and continue your conversation. Giggling over nothing much but being comfortable in each other's company more than what you could have asked for.

redlightdesign could have been a total dick but you were blessed enough to get someone so genuinely kind and talented. And when you got back in the chair to finish the day's session you were sad to know that tomorrow would be the last time you saw Hyunjin unless you somehow got another appointment. The idea in it of itself was making you dread leaving.

“Could you tie my hair up?” he asks lifting his wrist up to you, a hair band waiting for you to take off. You lean over taking the tie from him and running your fingers through the dark strands. He hums as you brush the hair from his face gathering it all to tie into a ponytail. “thank you,” he nods letting the end bob up and down, a sweet smile teasing his lips before he goes back to the linework.

When he finally declares you done for the day you sigh, his thumb smoothing over the ends of the tape he's put to hold the wrap he put over your thigh. His finger slips across your inner thigh making you jolt harder than when the needle was to your skin. “sensitive?” he asks and you nod, not wanting to think too much into it. You were definitely sensitive but not from the pain, watching his long fingers work over your skin didn't put the cleanest image in your head.

He starts to break down his workstation, cleaning up and wiping everything to disinfect. While you put on your coat he asks, “Do you want to get dinner?” you turn to make sure he is not on the phone but he is in fact asking you, “I know this great spot a block over it's not that far a walk if you're up for it?”

“Sure,” you nod and he rubs the back of his neck.

“You know if you're not busy or anything I don't usually ask clients out for dinner but we were having a good chat and you know if you don't want to,” he drags on his ears pink, it was cute to watch him flustered.

“I'd love to go to dinner with you hyunjin,” you smile following him out.

You share an umbrella as you make your way to the small cafe-style restaurant, outdoor seating covered with a canopy so you won't get hit by any rain. Sitting across from one another, Hyunjin asks to see your other tattoos. You lay one arm down on the table, hyunjins fingertips ghosting over your skin as he traces the lines of all your other work. “I think I've seen this one before, did you get it from Felix? Or what's his username…”

“youg.ink?” you nod, “I actually got it because I saw you mentioned them before and it introduced me to their work. instantly fell in love with this when he offered it up,”

hyunjins not even paying attention to the tattoos anymore as he lets his fingers glide over your smooth skin. Most times after a client was done for the day in his chair he walked them to the door, waved goodbye, and worked in the studio on the next person's design. Most times he had people who he didn't mind not seeing again but you and your laugh, your gentle conversation, made him want to break his own rules for once. He walks you home after dinner and promises to see you tomorrow at the same time.

When you show up for your second session you're double fisting two iced coffees; the door is already unlocked as you make your way up the stairs. Hyunjin is sitting at the desk with headphones on sketching away before he sees the movement in the corner of his eye. He gives you a big smile, all teeth and is so cute. He tugs his headphones off letting them hang around his neck, “you got me a coffee?”

“Maybe or maybe I have a caffeine addiction,” you joke, handing over his cup. You look over to see what he's working on and he leans back to give you a better view.

“The next client wants their back done, it will be spaced out over the next four months. first sessions tomorrow,”

“I wouldn't even know where to start on something that big,”

“the same way I started yours,” he looks down at your legs, the wrap still in place only today you're wearing a skirt instead of shorts. The only other clothing item you felt would give him space to work today. Hyunjin looks back to his sketchbook, shutting it and standing. “let's get you up on the chair and get started,”

you follow his instructions, sinking back into the chair and letting your skirt bunch between your legs to expose your thigh. Hyunjin starts to set up his station, pulling on his gloves after flipping to the sketch of your design to have to glance at while he works. “might hurt today with all the shading if you need any breaks let me know we can go as slow as you need,” he peels away the tape before cleaning your leg with a towel and watered down soap. “It already looks good,” he nods, pressing around the tattoo.

“I think I can handle it,”

“Okay, we can work the bottom to the top again today, get the area closest to the knee and get the most painful bit first,”

and you think you can handle it and you can for the most part but the dragging of the needle over the still red outline from yesterday is painful today. Your hand bunching in your skirt as you remind yourself to breathe. You let your head roll back in the chair not able to watch anymore, focusing on the music playing, the dull hum of the tattoo gun usually comforting you but now a reminder that you're here for a while.

hyunjin is trying to concentrate, he's great at what he does, but what's testing him is how you're flashing your panties at him. he was going to say something, bring up a conversation about anything but when he looked up, a simple glance he was face to face with the dark grey fabric, the outline of you silencing him. You didn't even notice, your neck exposed as your free hand not holding your skirt gripped the armrest.

Tattooing people made nudity and almost nudity normal. It was why Hyunjin preferred his private studio so that he could make people feel comfortable, it was better than having someone who wanted a hip tattoo strip in a shop where anyone could watch. But with you sitting in front of him he forgot that he shouldn't look so close. Because instead of ignoring the view he was imagining ways that he could make your pain more bearable. Imagining how if he reached over and brushed where he knew your clit would be waiting you wouldn't be moaning in pain.

It's not until lunch that your skirt is let go but it's done the work of keeping Hyunjin hard for the entirety of the progress he's made toward the tattoo. When he sprays the tattoo down with the soapy water beads roll back up your leg because of the way the chairs are angled. The cold water feels great against your hot skin and Hyunjin apologizes for the mess passing you a paper towel to wipe any that got too far. You slightly lift your leg to wipe your inner thighs, the movement flashing Hyunjin again only this time the droplets of water had dampened your panties. The gray fabric was dark where he had been fantasizing they would be.

He doesn't even want to think about standing from his stool knowing that the second he does he will have to adjust himself only drawing attention to the fact he is very hard. He tries to make a list of things in his head as he wraps your thigh. To think about how it's almost over, that you will be gone in the next hour or two but that only makes it worse. You would be gone when he was this needy? He wanted to make an excuse to have you come back for another session. But it was quite obvious he would be dragging out the appointment when he only needed to do a small section when the two of you were done with lunch. He could have waited and finished, pushed your lunch back, and waved goodbye but no.

He swiveled his chair away from you, taking a sip from his almost empty cup of coffee as you slid down the bed to stand. Hyunjin takes a breath and prays you don't notice but it's the first thing you see when he turns, the strained outline not very well hidden. You pretend to look out the window, feeling your cheeks get hot. All you can think about is if it was your noises that did it, all the whimpering wasn't usually how you handled tattoos but this one was the biggest piece you've gotten, and didn't know two sessions would make your usually composed self break so easily. it would explain the silence compared to yesterday. So you toy with the idea, how far would he go if you made yourself available?

You grabbed lunch together, hyunjin putting a pillow over his lap to steady his plate of food but both of you knew that wasn't the real reason. And when you were back in the chair you intentionally let your skirt roll up this time. It doesn't help that he's now working on the part of the tattoo closest to your center, how he wraps his hand around your thigh, pushing your legs further apart to reach a spot on your inner thigh. Gloved fingers brushing over your panties for the smallest second, your hips sinking into the seat to keep yourself from moving. Hyunjin noticed but needed to get through the rest of the tattoo, if he stopped now he wouldn't know when he would start again. Your lip between your teeth he watched as you tried to close your legs again to block your exposed panties, now wet with your slick and nothing else. He could see the spot and almost ripped his gloves off as soon as he finished his work. But now he was teasing you. Cleaning the tattoo down and wiping it down. He doesn't even bother with the normal photos he would take right away instead putting on the second skin to protect the tattoo. As he smooths the thin film over your inner thigh he lets his fingers slip up brushing against your center to see your reaction.

Your head rolls to your shoulder watching him through your lashes as he takes off his gloves and tosses them on the cart. He lifts the armrest on the tattoo chair before reaching behind your knees to pull you to the edge of the seat so your legs are dangling off the side. “how is it someone can make the prettiest sounds and sit so still for me?” he leans down and plants a kiss on your tattooless thigh, “because all I could think about was how I wanted to see your legs shaking for me while you whined like that,”

you tried to draw your knees together but he was in the way, kissing up your inner thigh, nipping at your skin with his teeth. When he reached your skirt he flipped it up with a lazy hand giving you no time before his thumb was over your clit rubbing a harsh circle over the fabric. You felt the shock run up to your stomach, your voice breathy as you whimpered his name. He followed the wet line down the front of your panties before hooking his finger along the seam to pull them back. He wanted one taste, needed one taste but knew he wouldn't stop at just one, not when you looked this edible and ready for him.

He ravages your clit, your hands shooting to his head burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks. He's careful of your tattoo but your other thigh is fair game for him to wrap his arm around and push you open, fingers bruising with how he spreads you. His free hand prodded your entrance, circling in your wetness before slipping in knuckle deep. “Hyunjin,” you whine, your hips rocking against his lips, feeling the build up of your orgasm. He curls his fingers pressing up into you enough to make your legs jerk from the new angle.

You're seeing spot before too long, hips stuttering as he gives a final hard suck, fingers still as you clench around them. You're moaning so loud you're sure someone will hear but you don't even care. Hyunjin doesn't stop the flick of his tongue against your clit making you cry out, “I said I wanted to see them shake,” devilish smile covered in your slick before he latches on to your clit again. Fingers pumping in and out of you before he presses deeper into you. You can feel tears at the corners of your eyes, and when he pulls away slightly to let his teeth brush your clit you're done for, legs trembling as you cum. He is persistent and you have to tug his head away, a slight smile stuck on his wet lips as he watches your body shake from the overstimulation. “once more?”

“I can't- I can't do it,” you shake your head but he drags his fingers out slowly before inching them back in, your hips jumping.

“I know you can, you've been doing so good for me already, one more time won't hurt,” he hums, dipping his nose down to brush over your nub. Jolting at the feeling he turns his head to kiss your inner thigh, slowly building up speed with his fingers, “can't you do just one more?” it's the way he asks so softly, the heavy gaze under heavier eyelids that makes you nod.

You're so sensitive that one lick has you shaking, your orgasm feeling so far and yet so close all at once. His tongue laps through your folds circling your clit. Hyunjin is obsessed with the taste of you, completely under the spell of your pussy and how it responds to his touch. He could go all night eating you out, watching as you fell apart again and again before him. Your cries are getting louder and before you know it your back is arching into him almost coming off the seat, your orgasm so intense you don't expect the clear fluid to squirt out of you until it has.

You're breathing so labored you place a hand over your chest to try and calm yourself. hyunjins pleased grin is the only thing you see before he pulls his fingers out of you and sticks them in his mouth to clean them. Every once in a while your legs jerk from an aftershock, the delight in his eyes worth how tired you feel. Your thighs are sticking to the leather seat under you as Hyunjin pulls your underwear back into place leaning down to leave a ghost of a kiss over your clothed clit. “next time I want you to cry this pretty for my cock okay?”

#hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #seungmin #kpop smut #bang chan #lee felix #lee know #han jisung #i.n skz #changbin #stray kids smut #stray kids #stray kids hyunjin #skz #skz smut #hyunjin stray kids #hyunjin smut #Hyunjin smut #hyunjin skz

2K notes · View notes

sweet-as-an-angel · 11 months

Text

Zombie! König NSFW Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Mentions of Breeding, Implied Forced Pregnancy/Eggnancy, Stomach Bulging, Restraining, Unprotected Sex, Monster Fucking, Zombie Fucking, Implied Yandere König, Possessive König, Jealous König, Zombie! König, Human! Reader, Zombie Anatomy, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except You.

Your current condition, that being thoroughly incapacitated, used and spent, had been the result of König’s jealousy, his possession of you.

All it took was for him to see you speaking with another survivor – one which had materialised out of nowhere – a little too enthusiastically.

Not that anyone could blame you; he was the first living person you’d seen in months, and you to him, too.

Until König showed up. Lumbering and mammoth and disease-ridden, he rocked up to you on creaking bones and stiffened joints, his deathly condition apparent in every facet of his being, from his gait to the stale blood staining his tactical gear.

The other survivor took one look at him and didn’t even hesitate before he all but took flight, bolting in the opposite direction.

You weren’t a fool. You knew König had done it on purpose.

He may be undead, but he was smart. Too smart.

Later that evening, you didn’t even look at König, instead bundling up in your room within the decrepit confines of your hideout while König ruminated.

If he could, he was sure his heart would squeeze, his throat would constrict at the prospect of upsetting you.

But, either because of his decaying state or something more carnal clouding his remorse.

The thought of that man, just some guy, touching you…

König’s eye twitched. His teeth gritted together, grinding.

The longer he stewed in the what-ifs – what if he hadn’t been there to frighten off his competition, what if that survivor had had his way with you – the less human he felt. The stronger the parasite’s instincts became, a chanting, goading, incipient voice that urged him to succumb to his feral ways.

Despite his stature, König was deceptively quiet. As much was apparent when you turned, your anger making it impossible to get comfortable, only to see König stood over you, watching you, your bedroom door swung open.

König gave you little time to process his arrival, to process that his appearance was not the extension of an olive branch – an apology – but a siege on your defences.

It wasn’t hard for König to pin you down, both with his weight and his strength as his hands kept your wrists welded to the mattress.

He snarled, his veil doing nothing to muffle the carnality in his tone, the voice of the parasite urging him to act. Now.

You tried to fight him off. Tried to call his name – the one you’d both settled on when you first met — tried to reason with the small part of him that was still human.

Little did you know that he, the last remaining thread which tethered König to the Living, was responsible for this.

You see, König is not the sharing type. A lesson you learned too late, it would seem.

The reason why König was bearing down on you now, trying not to rock his hips against yours as he collared your wrists together beneath his palm and fumbled with stiffened fingers for the zipper of his trousers was rooted solely in envy.

And now, freed of his pants, König’s cock stood stiff against his stomach. His hand, free now, gripped your jeans by the hem. Tore them off. A button pinged into a corner. You yelped.

Despite having dreamt of this moment for almost the entirety of your travels together, nothing in König’s dying mind could have prepared him for the rush he felt as you writhed, tried not to enable him with your whines when his drooling tip caught you.

König stuffed you full of him, and a sword of ice penetrated you, filled you.

You gasped, your back arching and your mouth dropping open as you struggled to take both his size and his piercing, freezing, bulbous cock.

You felt it twitch inside you. Pulse. And the only thought that crossed your mind was that something of a parasitic nature must be crawling through his veins, trying to get to you. Get into you.

Of course, that was not the case. König ever would have acted on his instincts if he’d known you were at risk of leading an almost-eternity of rot like him. He cared that much for you, at least.

Even if he had perceived your talking to that other lone survivor earlier as an act of disloyalty.

Deep down, he knows it wasn’t. You and König weren’t even dating, so how could it be?

Zombie instincts. And König’s naturally domineering, possessive nature. That’s how it could be.

König had to hold back the feeling, the need, to pump you full of his cum right then and there as he saw a long, thick bump form in your middle.

Him.

König growled. You whimpered. Something cold, viscous, tricked into you.

The avantmath of König’s excitement.

König’s eyes, though mulled over with a haze that suggested vacancy, were still an ice blue. Watching and heavy.

As was his cock halfway mounted inside you. It almost pinned you to the mattress itself with just how much of it there was, no doubt enlarged some by the parasite, the disease. Which, if the rest of König was to go by, wasn’t the only thing it engorged.

König’s frame possessed muscularity you didn’t even think possible on a man, his arms bulging, larger than your head, his thighs almost bursting from his pants as he bent over your figure, his trousers pulled taut over his muscles, just below his hips.

You stifled a sob, the air knocked out of you, as König began to move. Slowly, at first, the notion of intimacy having become a lost skill to him.

As he grew used to the motion of withdrawing and plunging back in, he grew faster. Harsher.

He could see from the furrow in your brow, the gritting of your teeth, the clenching of your jaw, that taking him was painful. Un-customary for your…relationship.

And though his chest would have panged with the knowledge that he, of everyone in the wasteland, was the one hurting you, his body was no longer privy to such reactions.

Instead, he pressed his hips to yours, tried manoeuvring you so that he could take you from a deeper angle, and slid further.

He bit back a grunt, his grip about your wrists tightening. You let out a yelp, these new inches of not only length but girth almost splitting you open. At least, that’s how it felt.

König built to and kept his feral pace, fucking you like an animal, giving you little time to breathe and him little time to think about what he was doing.

All he thought about was making you his. About making sure everything, living and otherwise, who came upon you in the wasteland would know you belonged to him.

Though, with what he was planning on doing to you, he knew you wouldn’t be going outside again.

Against your mind’s judgement, your body wanted König. That much was clear in the way you ceased fighting him off, instead trying to push into him, trying to take him deeper.

Your actions were not lost on König. But, given how his face was clouded not only with his veil, but with his lust, you wouldn’t have been surprised if they were.

Eventually, König’s weight and speed proved to be too much.

You cried out, as if for the only other survivor in the city to hear you, to save you.

König released a growl, a howl, as his cold, congealed, thickened cum pumped into you.

You could feel it, like water through a hose. Could feel König’s veins twitching, feel yourself getting full from his load.

Against your better judgement, you wrapped your legs about König’s torso, as if to stop even an ounce of his semen from escaping.

You didn’t have to look down to know that your stomach was filling up like a balloon – that König had completely and utterly made you his from the inside out.

You couldn’t see the way König’s jaw hung open, couldn’t feel the way his fantasy made his body lock up with electric anticipation.

Not that you knew this, but König knew the infection — the parasite — was evolving.

Once it fully matured, it would give König an opportunity he wouldn’t perceive as golden — gold dust — until he met you.

The ability to lay eggs in a host.

Granted, the idea was not to spread the infection in the living host but to enable the birth of more parasites. But for König, it worked all the same.

And, as he looked down at you, taking his load so easily now, he knew this was not just a possibility, but a reality.

You would start a new life. Together. Him as your protector, your sword and your shield, and you his perfect little incubator, swollen with your shared offspring.

It wouldn’t be long until you’d be begging to bear his offspring. And it wouldn’t be long until he could grant your wish.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

6K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 5 months

Note

can i request a reader who can’t admit she’s upset with one the marauders (or all)? like refuses to cry…only if you’re comfortable of course. thank you :)

Thank you for requesting gorgeous!

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

The smell of smoke coming from the kitchen is the first sign that Sirius has tipped over from resentment into remorse.

“Jesus,” you open the front door on your way into the kitchen, eyes watering, “what are you doing?”

“I was trying to make rice,” he says, fanning desperately over your pressure cooker, “but I think I’ve fucked it.”

“Do you think so?” Any other day you’d both grin at the harmless snark, but now Sirius’ expression pinches and you think your own must look the same, your tone more biting than you meant for it to be. “It’s fine, it’ll be fine once it airs out. Help me with the windows?”

Sirius acts like it’s a competition, opening three windows before you’ve finished two and looking at you like he’s expecting a pat on the head for it. You try to give him a smile, and his expression clouds over.

“Sorry,” he says, voice not quite cool but oddly remote, “the idea was to surprise you with dinner, and I’ve broken your rice thingy instead.”

“It’s not broken,” you reassure him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine once I clean it out. Why were you trying to make dinner?”

Sirius grimaces. It’s a full body motion, his eyebrows hooking in the middle while the muscles in his forearms shift uncomfortably and his shoulders migrate upward. “Sort of a shitty attempt at an olive branch, I guess.”

Some of the smoke has cleared, and you brave the kitchen. “I don’t need an olive branch,” you say. “If you say we’re good, we’re good.”

“Don’t do that.” He follows you into the kitchen. “I can tell you’re upset, just because—” Sirius hisses when you take the bowl out of the pressure cooker, transferring it swiftly to the sink “—fuck, baby, don’t burn yourself. Let me take care of that later.”

“I’d rather handle it now,” you say, turning on the faucet. “I’m just letting it soak anyway.”

“I’m trying to handle this.” Sturdy hands wrap around your shoulders, turning you to face your boyfriend. He looks at you steadily. “Don’t pretend you’re not angry with me, because I know that you are.”

A spark of annoyance tingles up your spine as you shrug, reaching behind you to turn off the faucet. “I’m not.”

“Can you stop trying to make me feel like an idiot? I know you. You’ve been all stiff since last night.”

“You were angry last night. Not me.”

“Yeah, well it seems to have caught on.”

You turn away from him and back towards the sink, swishing your hand in the cold water of the bowl to dislodge the charred rice sticking to the bottom. You don’t know where Sirius gets off, acting like you’re holding a grudge when he’s the one who shouted at you last night. Your phone had died while you were out with friends. That was all that had happened. You didn’t think anything of it, because Sirius, the only person who would really worry about not being able to reach you, knew you were out and that you’d be home late.

But when you had gotten home, he’d been furious. Gone on and on about how he’d been trying to get a response from you all night, and how dangerous it was to get drunk when you couldn’t call anyone (nevermind that you’d been with your friends), and how freaked out he’d been. He wouldn’t listen to you. He’d only wanted to yell and rage, and make you sit in your heels on the couch while he did it. He’d even seemed like he might be tearing up a couple of times. And you hated to think of him being scared for you, but since when was it your responsibility to answer every time he called? He knew you were with your friends. You hadn’t asked him to check in on you.

He’d gone to bed still fuming and you’d stayed on the couch rather than try to sleep in a hostile bed. Now, inexplicably, his tune seems to have changed.

“So,” Sirius sighs, “this is you not mad, huh?”

“Yup.” You scrub at the bowl with your fingernails.

“I just want a chance to apologize.”

“You can if it’ll make you feel better, but I don’t need it.”

“Why can’t you just admit it?”

“Because I’m not the one who gets pissy about stupid things.” You dislodge a chunk of rice and your hand slips across the bowl, splashing water onto your shirt. “That’s you.”

There’s a second of dense, oppressive silence. When Sirius breaches it, you can hear the smirk in his voice. “There’s my girl. Tell me about the stupid things I got pissy about, would you?”

“It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not. It wasn’t nothing to me, and clearly it wasn’t to you either. Go on, doll.”

“I don’t want to argue with you.”

“Sure you do.”

“Why do you want to fight so bad?”

“Because,” Sirius says, and you can hear him moving behind you, can all but see him leaning against the counter, the picture of insouciance, “I think you need to get it out of your system.”

You scrub harder at the bowl. Blackened bits of rice float to the top of the water. “Like you do?”

A pause. His voice softens. “It’s not always a good thing. I shouldn’t have shouted at you, last night.” Something in your chest tightens painfully at this new gentle tone. “I’m sorry. I let my temper get the better of me. I was just worried about you.”

“I don’t think that’s my fault,” you say, managing to sound mostly normal. You dump out the contents of the bowl, filling it again with warmer water. “My phone was dead, and I was with my friends. I didn’t need you to worry about me.”

“I just do, when I know you’ve all been drinking, and I can’t talk to you to know you’re okay…” Sirius takes in a breath, breaking your heart with how it sounds like he’s trying to steady himself. “But you’re right, okay? It wasn’t fair.”

“I didn’t know I was coming home to be shouted at.” This time, your voice betrays you, a pitchiness that makes you go quiet fast. You hear Sirius move.

“Sweetheart?” he asks softly. There’s a touch at your elbow. “I’m sorry, baby, please look at me.”

You don’t want to, but you don’t want your embarrassment interpreted as ire. You take a quiet breath before pivoting from the sink. Sirius’ eyes are waiting, sad and fretful as they probe at yours.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, impossibly quieter, and runs his fingers from your elbow up the back of your arm. “It wasn’t your fault, I wasn’t being fair. I shouldn’t have shouted at you.”

You press your lips together, hard. His eyebrows hook up in the middle.

“You can cry, sweet thing. It’s okay.” You shake your head mutely, blinking, and Sirius makes a terribly lovely cooing sound, snaking an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. You hug him back as the first hot tear rolls down your cheek. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Your shoulders jump with a stilted, poorly repressed sob, his grip on you tightening. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby. My temper tantrum really did a number on you, huh?”

You laugh wetly. “Guess so,” you squeak. “Sorry.”

“If you apologize for this, I may shout at you again,” he warns fondly. “You haven’t done anything wrong, lovely girl. Just let it out, if you need to.”

You know that’s not easy for Sirius to say. Know he’s likely close to tears himself, from how agitated seeing other people cry makes him. You appreciate the offer.

You fall into a silence less heavy than any that’s suffocated your home since last night, broken up only by the steady, quiet thumping of Sirius patting your back and the intermittent smooching sounds as he kisses your shoulder or your cheek or the side of your neck. You stand still in your smoky kitchen, wetting your boyfriend’s shoulder with tears and snot, and he lets you.

1K notes · View notes

luveline · 1 year

Note

could you please write something where maybe bombshell!reader hears one of the team members teasing about how she’s torturing spencer and she kinda backs off with the flirting and maybe it’s his turn to hold her hand and call her cute names because even though he always says he doesn’t mind, maybe he does and he just doesn’t want to tell her

tysm for requesting, 1k

Spencer's hair is brown silk in the sun. You bite your tongue to hold in a compliment rearing to come out, saccharine and completely true. Looking sweet, Spence.

You love to compliment him and especially while Hotch is out of earshot. He and Derek play pairs against two agents from a different unit, their tennis racquets a shiny FBI navy. You start to speak and bite it back —a memory flashes, a shouting stop sign.

You'd been teasing Spencer as he left the room, something about his indecisive hair. He's cut it shorter but left his curls without product, and you love it.

Poor guy, Emily'd murmured, lips set against the rim of her coffee cup.

What's the matter with him? you asked, perplexed.

Nothing, just that he spins into a total meltdown every time you guys are within ten feet of each other. He must be exhausted.

She was joking and you know that, but something deep down worries she's right. It's not fair for you to keep winding him up… Especially when Spencer might be going along with you because he isn't sure how to say no.

What if you're forcing yourself on him?

You're sitting together on a small blanket in the grass with Anderson and a few of the other less competitive BAU agents. You bring your bottled iced tea to your forehead to cool down, condensation wetting your hot skin. The top of your head feels as though it has the full concentration of the sun beating against it.

Spencer looks up at your movement. He's been reading a book for pleasure, or so he says, so he isn't going a mile a minute but he's still way faster than the average Joe. "Do you want to go find some shade?" he asks.

"You look comfortable," you say, putting your iced tea aside.

Which is to say, I don't want you to come with me, it would disrupt you. Spencer nods and turns to the brown leather of his familiar satchel, popping the buckle open to dig around inside.

"Do you think this would be okay?" he asks, bringing out his baseball cap.

The fabric is starchy and the brim stiff as you accept it and wedge it over your head. You don't immediately cool, but your heart spins strange loops. "Thank you," you say. Thank you, handsome, gorgeous, baby, all beg to be said.

Spencer stays looking at you for longer than normal.

"Do I have something on my face?" you ask, swatting self consciously at your cheeks.

"Nothing. You look really pretty," he says.

"Thank you." Another loop. You point at his book, fingertip hitting a creamy page with a small thud. "Is this any good?"

"I think you'd really like it, it feels like that last book I borrowed from you, and you loved that. They're very similar. I can lend it to you when I'm done."

"Don't rush it for my sake."

Spencer gives you a private smile. "I won't. Just because you could watch a movie at two times speed doesn't mean you should."

Your returning smile isn't half as nice. No shared lightness, no bright eyes. You're feeling awkward and unhappy —you really like Spencer. Like, you think you could be happy together for a long long time sort of like. He's charming and sweet and no one is ever as kind to him as he deserves, which is why you're trying to be kind now by putting distance between you.

You'll be brash forever. You can't change that, and Spencer doesn't need the stress of dealing with you, not on top of everything else.

His smile fades as yours does. Quiet, without fuss, he scoots back on the picnic blanket, putting you knee to knee. The subtle muscle of his arm presses to yours and his hand wraps gently around your wrist as he dips his head down, his cheek touching briefly to your shoulder.

"I know it's nice, but if the heat is getting to you we should go inside," he says, his fingers sliding across your palm to slot between your own. He squeezes your hand. "Heat stroke isn't obvious at first. Do you feel woozy?"

You stare at your twined fingers. He surprises you again, being this soft with you, and being uncharacteristically forward. Or maybe not uncharacteristic at all; Spencer won't let something like timidity stop him from comforting someone that needs it.

"Spence," you murmur, closing your eyes, face angled down.

"What?"

"I'm sorry if I… If I've been messing you around. But I don't think this is a good idea."

"What's not a good idea?"

You can't make yourself say it. Instead, you rub the back of his hand, more for your own comfort than his, your tongue like a useless lump in your mouth.

"You're sorry? Are you sure you're okay?" Spencer asks, no heed to the people sitting with you as he lets go of your hand to put his arm behind your shoulder like a shield.

"I don't want to torture you," you say.

Your friends love that word. You torture Spencer with your flirting and your easy affection.

Spencer makes a face, eyes squinting and nose wrinkled. "They're just kidding when they say that. Emily, Morgan, they like making fun of me, it's like, sibling bonding or something. They don't say it because there's actually something to feel sorry about." He lowers his voice, bashful but sincere at once, "If you're torturing me, I guess I'm a masochist."

You laugh without thinking, a breathless, girlish sound you'd regret if you had the wherewithal. "You're a masochist?" you ask.

He takes the brim of your borrowed hat and pushes it up to unobstruct the view of your eyes.

"If that's what it takes," he says. A hint of wryness creeps into his otherwise smooth tone.

Despite his brave talk and his steady eye contact, his face has started to blush. A rosy hue kisses the tops of his cheeks and his nose, a dusting of pink splodges stark against his paleness. The curve of his lips seems extra tantalising now. He's very, very pretty.

And he doesn't mind stepping in to take the reins when you're unsure of things.

"We really should sit in the shade for a bit," he says. "Let's get drinks from the gazebo. Yeah?"

You're halfway through a nod when he kisses your cheek too quickly for you to respond. You follow him to the gazebo without any more reluctance, weaselling your hand back into his, and attempt to pull another kiss from him.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

5K notes · View notes

joemama-2 · 4 days

Text

this is not how you imagined your friday night would go.

you thought you’d be watching the stars by now after a nice dinner. maybe some compliments, maybe even a small kiss shared. or some held hands.

but no. because currently you’re seated on the expensive couch, eyes fixated on some random nature documentary because you don’t have the courage to face the six year old boy to your left and demand him to stop staring.

you like kids, but this one oddly makes you nervous, scared almost.

your date is in the bathroom taking way too long and you’re half tempted to up and leave. your posture is stiff, forcing yourself to find the screen interesting.

our of your peripheral, you can see the boy raise his spoonful of ice cream to his mouth, head tilting like you’re one of the animals being observed on the TV.

“are you the one he keeps talking about?”

confusion strikes you as you finally turn your head to face him. your titled head mirroring his own. “um…..i’m not sure.”

a part of you feels flattered by the sudden fact. is satoru really talking about you? but then an unsettling feeling takes place, one of hesitation and jealously. or is he talking about someone else?

“you have the black Cane Corso, right?”

ah, so it’s the former. you smile. “oh, yeah. that’s me.”

“what’s his name?” the little boy asks you, shifting his small body as the talk of dogs gains his attention by the second.

“sunny.”

his brows pinch together. “why sunny?”

“because he was a stray, i found him a box on a very hot day.”

he hums and nods before asking yet another question. you forget how curious children can be. “is he nice?”

you chuckle. sunny has the stereotype of being aggressive due to his breed and size, but he’s anything but. he’s your gentle giant who gets scared of butterflies and plastic water bottles. “he’s really nice, he loves meeting new people and licking.”

you playfully stick your tongue out with a look of a faux grimace. this gets the small boy to crack a hint of a smile. it warms your heart almost instantly. “you like dogs?” you ask him, voice softening.

he nods automatically. “i really like dogs, i have two dogs. one is white and the other is black.”

“oh wow,” your eyebrows raise. “that’s so cool, are they big too?”

“mhm.” he nods.

you do a small look around. “where are they?”

he simply shrugs and answers, “they only come out sometimes.”

you want to ask what he means by that, but you figure satoru would best know. speaking of, he must be shitting a big one or he’s trying to calm his nerves inside that bathroom down the hall.

the little boy hesitates, like he wants to ask another question but isn’t sure if he should. you give him an encouraging nod and he sighs. “can you bring sunny next time?”

—————————————————————

“when you said you were fostering, i assumed a pet or something. not an actual child.” you tell Satoru as he’s walking you to your apartment door.

the two of you stop in front and he takes this time to grin. “do i not look like a boy dad?”

your eyebrow raises with an unamused expression. “no, first off, you look like a girl dad. and second off, does he consider you his dad?”

“nah, not at all. more like an older brother if anything. or maybe that annoying uncle everyone hates.” he reaches forward to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “did he like you?”

“i hope so.” your lips purse. “i wasn’t exactly ready to pitch myself as a good person tonight to some kid.”

satoru chuckles, thumb lingering on your cheek. “don’t need to pitch yourself, just be you and he’ll like you just as much as i do. well—actually—hopefully not as much. i’d hate to have competition.”

you can’t help but roll your eyes. “he did mention a next time, though. wants me to bring my dog.”

“you mean that oversized human on all fours?”

your hand collides with his shoulder. he laughs and intertwines your fingers with his. “kidding, kidding. don’t get violent, at least not now.”

leaning down, his lips kiss your forehead smoothly, they linger for a few seconds before he mutters against your skin. “his names megumi, i hope you’ll get along.”

your stomach flutters during this moment, relishing in the easy and comfortable intimacy. you nod and murmur back. “of course.”

he pulls back and smiles down at you. just as he’s about to speak another cheesy line, you beat him to it.

“so….you talk about me a lot?”

356 notes · View notes

mionemymind · 4 months

Text

Chapter 3: Choosing for You

My Rival Series

Series Summary: The time where Y/n Y/l/n and Wanda Maximoff were academic rivals that fell for each other.

Chapter Summary: The competition is here. Who will be the winner?

A/n: This was a long chapter, honestly might rewrite it, but here it is with all its mistakes and glories. And I'm sorry if you've asked to be tagged and wasn't included in this post, I'm posting this from work because I promised to give y'all something. (Gif credits to @elizabetholsens)

Warnings: Rivals to Lovers, Obvious Feelings, Stubborn Reader, Cursing, Alcohol, Mentions of Puking, Memory Loss, Panic Attack

Word Count: 7.2k

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Fall Semester - Freshman Year

“Why does winning matter so much to you?” Winning hardly had rewards in life. Sure, there was sometimes money involved on the line but other than financial gain, winning was mainly there to feed the ego. For Natasha, she never viewed Y/n as someone that cared about being number one in life. Based on the few phone calls she overheard, the university felt like a getaway from troubles at home. So why did Y/n even want to win?

The brown eyed girl sat in confusion. Her pencil was still as she wracked her brain for an answer. By all means, winning is fun. Back in high school, Y/n would naturally win things that being number one felt like home at that point. But having moved on from that mentality, winning wasn’t quite the same in Evergreen University. Well, it’s not like she had a chance to feel it when Wanda Maximoff was around.

“If I’m being honest…I don’t think I’ve ever worked for a win in my life before.” The two locked eyes as Y/n softly confessed what was long on her mind. She placed her pencil down and gave Natasha her undivided attention. “Studying has never been my thing before up until now. Don’t get me wrong, I quite hate it, but it feels different now. Like if I just beat her once, then that high will be like nothing ever before.”

“Does she really challenge you that much?” The question sunk into Y/n’s brain and into her deeper subconscious. She sat quietly, overthinking her answer.

“I think…she’s the only one that ever challenged me at all.”

Competition Day - Spring Semester - Junior Year

‘Why does winning feel so wrong?’ Y/n looked in the mirror, splashing small bits of water on her face to help wake herself up. Rolling her neck, she could feel how stiff her bones were from last night. Unfortunately, the bus was no help at all, only providing mild comfort on their four hour journey.

Stepping out the bathroom, Y/n wore the tightly pressed and cleaned uniform as Wanda started her speech for the group. “I want to thank you all for joining us today at this competition. For some of you, this is your first time ever attending the conference while for others, you are returning. Regardless, you’ve all earned your spots on this team, so congratulate yourself for that.”

A couple of applauses were heard as Wanda smiled at the team. She briefly glanced to Y/n who was sitting all the way at the back of the bus. “I know that this bus is carrying some of the brightest minds that Evergreen University has to offer. Without a doubt in my mind, I know we can win this competition.”

Y/n looked away to the view of the hotel where the conference took place. The turmoil in her gut was hard to ignore as she focused on other things besides Wanda’s eyes. ‘Winning is a must. If I want to come back to her here, then I need to win.’

“However, winning is not always the priority. Overall, I’ve been more than happy to see everyone grow into their strengths and even improve your weaknesses. Your efforts have been highly noted by both of your captains.” Y/n looked back at Wanda, her stare as confident as ever.

“We want to thank you all for all the nights, practices, and energy you’ve committed to be in this competition.” Wanda looked over as the bus entered the garage of the hotel. “Okay, everyone come in for a quick send off.”

Everyone gathered into a huddle, placing their hands in the middle. “On three - one - two - three - Evergreen! Fight! Fight! Fight!” Their hands lifted into the air as Wanda looked at Y/n with a determined smile.

‘I’m going to win.’ The brunette thought as she stared into those brown eyes, but little did she know the costs of this win.

The hotel was massive. It was honestly a surprise at how many schools can fit into one place. Some had to fly in, having been more than five hours away. The group followed Wanda to the selected tables meant for Evergreen University.

“Break into your groups, Y/n and I will be investigating the brackets to see who we will be versing first. We have about an hour before round one is officially called. If you need to change or use the bathroom, this is definitely the time to do so. If you have any questions or concerns, please let Y/n and/or I know immediately.”

Doing as told, the members immediately broke into their four person group and discussed strategies for round one. When no one came up to ask any questions, the pair walked off out of the conference room, and into the large hall that had many posters hung up with all the different brackets.

There was a small but comfortable silence as Wanda walked slightly ahead from Y/n, focusing on finding out who they were versing first. While Y/n was also thinking of the competition, she wondered if they were ever going to talk about last night.

Walking up to the first bracket they could find, Wanda took a picture of it and sent it to the math club group chat for everyone to see. “Princewell University, Maroon State College, and Gale College, not a bad start. Looks like we’re going to easily make it into the second round.”

Since Y/n was unable to sleep last night, she made use of her time by looking over the bracket. Going over the many possibilities, there was still a high chance of her group making it to the top five. Round one was thankfully full of easy opponents having judged their previous matches with other schools.

“I agree. Looks like our main trouble is with Harford University. But they’re all the way at the otherside. I’m hoping Legacy College takes care of them so we don’t have to,” Wanda comments. She turned to face Y/n, taking a good look at her clean uniform and brushed hair.

“I need you to be on your A-game today.” Unsure of where Wanda’s seriousness was coming from, Y/n nodded in understanding. “If you can give me that, I’ll overlook this morning.”

Puzzled by her statement, Y/n asked, “What are you talking about?” Wanda crossed her arms, trying her best to be level headed at the moment.

“You wreaked alcohol. Last night was a supposed to be a get together, not an opportunity to get drunk.” The judgment coming from Wanda’s tone felt like a slap in the face as Y/n took one step back.

“Are you kidding me? I took one drink. I wasn’t the one that was drunk last night. Are you seriously remembering the same night as me?” The small moment with Wanda was all that Y/n replayed in that moment.

‘Apologize and I’ll forgive you for everything - apologize and I’ll let go of this whole feud.’ Whether Y/n was going to loudly admit it or not, the small ounce that she saw of Wanda’s true personality changed her view of the brunette. Even if the conversation was small, even if Wanda didn’t hear her response, even if it was a drunk confession, Y/n was going to cling to it.

Wanda was always the girl that was number one but in that small moment, Wanda was just a girl who wanted to win for the sake of not disappointing her father. Because God, how could someone ever be disappointed in Wanda Maximoff? And how could they not see just how amazing she was?

But as Wanda rolled her eyes, and hardened her stare, Y/n knew none of that moment mattered to Wanda, not when her green eyes still showed some form of hatred. “I remember last night clearly. Everyone in the group arrived and managed to say check in with me. You were the only one in the group that I didn’t even get to see. Once it was late, I went back to my dorm and slept. But it’s obvious why you avoided me - you were too busy drinking rather than focusing on the competition.”

“That’s not-”

“I don’t want to hear your explanation. Your team deserves a good leader and if you can’t provide that, I’ll make sure that math club will be looking for a replacement captain next semester.” The pounding in Wanda’s head was hard to ignore as she walked away from Y/n, not even bothering to hear her side.

‘Focus. Everything will be alright if you just focus.’ The ringing in Y/n’s ears was louder than the judge in front of her. The question left his lips almost slipped past the girl but thankfully her teammate, Luke, was paying attention, easily answering the question.

“Another point for Evergreen University, which solidifies their victory for this match!” Cheers erupted from the crowd as each group got up, giving the other members handshakes for the great match.

‘I can’t fucking focus.’ Y/n wore a fake smile as she congratulated the other captain on the team, quickly walking off the stage. Ever since her interaction with Wanda, her nervousness and anxiety came back in full throttle. Her mind went from completely tired to panic. And while her drive to win increased, it came with overthinking as well.

“That was a great match everyone! I’m so proud of you all for being so great for these four rounds that I haven’t had to worry one bit.” Well Y/n did worry, just not for her team’s sake. “I’m going to go ahead and let the staff know about our victory. In the meantime, go ahead and relax at our table. After the fifth round, let me know if y’all want snacks. I can go ahead and purchase them for everyone.”

“Thank you Y/n. We appreciate it!” Luke stated, he was a returning member of the competition, one that Y/n knew well. Letting the group walk away, Y/n finally brought her guard down as she walked out of the conference room and to the direction of the staff booth.

‘I can’t believe I fucking froze.’ Y/n knew the question was for her, yet she had to rely on her team member for something she could’ve easily answered. Wiping her frustrations off her face, Y/n tried to compose herself before she approached the staff.

“School, team, and placement?” The lady wore rectangle shaped glasses. She offered Y/n a kind smile, ready to write the results.

“Evergreen University, team two, and we won our match.” Y/n peeped her name tag, Laura, as she wrote down the results.

“Looks like you’ll be versing Apollo College next in conference room seven.” Laura handed Y/n a slip of paper with the information before calling next.

Shoving the paper in her pocket, Y/n walked past several conference rooms, their doors open for anyone to watch their matches. None of them interested her, but her voice certainly did. Stopping at the entrance of the doors, Y/n watched Wanda flawlessly answer the question.

The bright light focusing on her group amplified her natural beauty. Y/n could pick up on every single detail, something she already knew like the back of her hand. Her jaw clenched as she noticed Wanda's smile, the same type of smile she had when she got hundreds on tests.

The anger inside Y/n manifested once more. She could legitimately feel herself start to boil the more she stared at Wanda. It was dangerously coming close to the anger she felt when she lashed out at Natasha that one night.

Clenching her fists, Y/n walked away from the match, unable to stand Wanda any further with thoughts of winning in her mind.

‘You’re making mistakes.’ Wanda stood in the crowd with her arms crossed. The displeased look on her face was hard to miss as she witnessed Y/n make her third mistake of the match, causing another precious point to be missed. Her brain rushed through many thoughts of disappointment towards the girl she used to hold to a high regard.

‘This isn’t like her.’ But the frown on Wanda’s face deepened, did she really know Y/n at all? Yes, she can admit that Y/n was smart. Smarter than a lot of people at their university. But other than that obvious characteristic, Y/n was admittedly someone she only knew at surface level. They’ve hardly spoken outside classes or math club. Essentially, she was just a stranger that was smart.

Shaking away the sadness that was snaking through her, Wanda watched as Y/n sat back in her seat.

The shame that Y/n carried on her shoulders felt massive along with the anxiety that continued to paralyze her more and more. The brown eyed girl was certain of her answer, so when the judge loudly announced that she gotten it wrong, embarrassment flooded her senses knowing that Wanda was in the crowd, silently judging her every move.

It all came down to the final question of the match. Whoever answers correctly will have to verse Wanda’s team. Luke, once again, got up, ready to answer the question. All eyes were on him besides Wanda and Y/n.

As the two finally locked eyes, Y/n couldn’t help but drown further in Wanda’s rage. ‘Forget everything I ever said - I do fucking hate you, Wanda Maximoff. And I hope you never forget that.’

-------------

“We need to talk.” Celebrations for Evergreen University were deaf to Wanda’s ears as she held Y/n’s wrist. Quickly, she led them out the crowd and through the near empty hallway outside the conference room. Dropping her wrist, Wanda stood there fuming with anger.

“What was that?” Y/n didn’t want to speak, unsure of what would be the ‘correct’ choice of words for the brunette. And by the looks of it, nothing was going to satisfy her. Choosing to be silent anger Wanda ever further.

“This isn’t the time to be childish - you’re making mistakes and if it wasn’t for your team, you wouldn’t have had this spot in the finals.” Y/n clenched her jaw as she bit her tongue. Sure she made mistakes, but it hurt Y/n to realize that Wanda didn’t even care for the ways she did contribute to the team.

Mistakes were permanent for the girl that was always perfect. That was something Y/n realized now more than ever.

“Can you not let go of three mistakes, Captain?” Y/n continued to stare off at the other side of the hallway, refusing to make eye contact with Wanda. Her words sneered off her mouth, feeling disgusted at the way Wanda ridiculed her every move.

“Un-fucking-believable. Dean Holloway was right.” At the mention of the Dean, Y/n’s blood ran cold. Her eyes locked with Wanda’s, as the brunette stood there. “You take everything as some type of joke. And to think I stood up for you.”

Y/n’s mind scrambled on what possibly happened between Dean Holloway and Wanda. ‘Does she know about my scholarship?’

But why on Earth would Wanda assume such things if she knew about her scholarship? Pressing for more information, Y/n asked, “What did he say?”

Wanda rolled her eyes. ‘Of course that’s what she would focus on rather than her own mistakes.’ Looking at the time, there were twenty minutes left before the final. The brunette should have been using this time to help practice with her team, yet here she was arguing with Y/n.

“Last week,” Wanda sighed. This all felt pointless to admit but she felt that Y/n needed to know. Maybe this could be what straightened up her act. “Dean Holloway asked me to reconsider your place in this competition.”

“What?” Y/n took a step back at the confession, feeling more hopeless at how rigged everything was. ‘How could he do this to me?”

“I told him that I could trust you - that you were the only person besides me adequate enough to lead the math club. Somehow, he managed to let me know that you were slipping in classes. No longer being at the top.” Wanda looked at Y/n. She focused on all the minor details of the face that haunted her mind. But upon seeing how hurt those brown eyes looked, Wanda couldn’t help but falter slightly.

“I wanted to believe that it was all wrong, but now…” Y/n silently pleaded as her mind went into overdrive. Couldn’t Wanda see how innocent she was? How she had been studying day and night for weeks just to make it another year at Evergreen? Couldn’t she see that this was all for her?

“I think we should go back to our groups. We need to prepare for the final. But Y/l/n…after this competition, we might have to reconsider your place as captain for math club.”

How cruel the world must be for the universe to deal Y/n such a bad draw? And how awful it must feel to know that Wanda was the one that delivered the final blow?

‘I have to win for me.’ Water dripped down Y/n’s face as she stared at herself in the mirror. There was five minutes left before she was expected to take the stage. Currently, Y/n was in the bathroom, hoping to subside the panic attack that was itching to come out.

‘Even if the school doesn’t want me, even if Wanda doesn’t want me, I want this more than anyone.’ Gripping the counter for stability, Y/n slowed her breathing down, hoping it would be enough. She wasn’t going to let the world decide her fate even if it had cheated her of a fair opportunity.

“Welcome everyone for the final match for the annual math club state competition. I’m thrilled to announce that this year’s top two teams both come from Evergreen University!” Applause rumbled throughout the large conference room as the rest of the school's watch in anticipation.

Wanda sat in her seat, overthinking her conversation with Y/n earlier. ‘Did I go overboard?’ Sneaking a glance at Y/n, it was hard to get a read of what the brown eyed girl was thinking. ‘Whatever, she needed to know.’

Pushing her thoughts to the back, the brunette focused back on the competition. It was finally her turn to go up as well as Y/n’s.

“Please find the inverse of the following equation.” Like a switch, everything in Wanda’s mind grew silent as she focused on the question on the screen. In seconds flat, she hit the buzzer to submit her answer.

“And the correct answer choice was…C, point goes to team # 1.” This was Wanda’s element - this was her reason for being. Glancing at Y/n, Wanda knew her purpose. She was number one and god forbid anyone that stood in her way.

The competition went by like a blur. In the first quarter of questions, Wanda’s team led with a gap of seven points. However, after a couple small mistakes by her team members, Y/n’s team was able to catch up and shorten the gap.

Right now, there are only five questions left. The score remained tied as Y/n tried her best to remain perfect. If things were to continue the way they were, the last question would determine the winner.

Before she knew it, it was finally her turn. Standing up to take the podium, Y/n glanced at Wanda accidentally locking eyes. ‘I will be the one to defeat you, Maximoff. I will make sure of it.’

Fall Semester - Freshman Year

“I’ve never seen you study so much before. It’s kinda freaky.” The two roommates sat around the small circular table in the middle of the room, enjoying a couple of drinks and snacks. Natasha begged for Y/n to stop for at least a small break, having missed talking to her roommate.

“Trust me, I hate it just as much as you do.” Y/n stretched her legs at her sat position. Rolling her neck around, a couple of pops and clicks could be heard.

“Why do it? Your grades are fine the way they are.” Y/n looked back at the pile of books on her desk. She never really recalled studying this much before during her high school days. Heck, she’s been able to get by this whole time just by how naturally smart she was. So when she looked back at Natasha, there was this ‘ya know’ look in Y/n’s eyes. “Does it have to do with Wanda?”

Y/n smiled at the mention of the brunette. It was odd at how many classes they were in together even though their majors were entirely different. There was something about Wanda that caught Y/n’s eye. She didn’t quite know what it was and didn’t quite want to delve too much into it.

“And if it does?” Y/n sipped on her drink, a smirk on her face as she avoided Natasha’s question. The red head shook her head, grabbing a chip.

“Well - you speak of her like she’s a God.” Eating a couple more, Natasha watched as the glimmer in Y/n’s eye brightened every time the brunette was brought up. Like the simple mention of Wanda could make Y/n smile instantly.

“Wrong, Wanda’s not a God. Gods make mistakes,” getting closer to Natasha’s face, the red head could smell the faint of alcohol on Y/n’s lips, “and Wanda Maximoff does not make mistakes.”

Y/n leaned back, still drinking the rest of her drink as Natasha looked at her roommate with a puzzled look. “Whatever you say. Just try not to make this a habit now.”

Y/n shook her head, feeling optimistic that she’d beat Wanda soon enough. Probably in the same semester. “I won’t. Promise.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in our state’s history the competition’s fate lied in the last question.” The crowd applauded for the accomplishment as the judges beamed in smiles towards Evergreen University. “.As your judges, we believe this calls for a special problem. We’ve rewritten the last question to make it a more challenging problem.”

“With one point in the lead, if Wanda answers the question correctly, her team will solidify the win. If Y/n answers the question correctly, this competition will proceed to overtime.”

Y/n and Wanda stood at their podiums, anticipation both killing them. “Here is your question.”

As the screen showed off the problem, Y/n could feel herself standing tall as she looked over the problem. It was a multistep calculus problem that involved finding the inverse of a 3x3 matrix. Essentially, a problem that would require two pages of work just to find a solution. And by the looks of it, Wanda was already finished with the first quarter of the work.

Calming her breathing down, Y/n cleared the noise from her head. She looked back at the problem, digesting all of what it told. ‘This is just another problem, Y/n.’ Thinking lightly back to the days where math was just a fun activity to do, Y/n finally smiled, remembering the feeling where math naturally came to her.

Letting the feeling sink in, Y/n started to solve it. The crowd waited with whispers and talks of who was going to win. Many people in the crowd believed Wanda would secure another victory as she did in the past. Very few people cheered for Y/n, simply wanting to believe in the underdog.

A few minutes later, Y/n approached the final bits of her answer, immediately eyeing the answer choice on the screen. Her heart skipped a beat realizing that she could do this - that she could win.

Before she could reach out for the answer, Wanda had buzzed in first with her choice. Suddenly, everything inside Y/n shut down as she saw Wanda smile once again. It was that infamous smile that she grew so used to.

‘This can’t be it. This can’t be the end.’ Feeling herself lock up again, Y/n didn’t dare to look at the screen, hoping to save some of her dignity that was barely left.

Believing the world to be crashing in front of her, she failed to realize that Wanda had made a mistake. The screen glowed in bright red as her answer choice was incorrect. “Y/n, looks like the question is left to you. You haven’t locked in your answer, so what will it be?”

Y/n looked up, unable to digest that Wanda actually messed up. The Wanda Maximoff made a mistake. Fighting back the smile on her face, Y/n reached out for the correct answer choice, her finger tips grazing answer choice B.

The smug look on her face was hard to miss. Everyone on her team knew they would come home with the victory. Wanda’s team sighed in defeat knowing that Y/n would answer correctly.

So why did everything change when Y/n glanced at Wanda? Why did her heart hurt at the sight of Wanda spilling angry and frustrated tears? Why did her breathing stop? And why did all thoughts consume her?

Wanda never cried or at least in front of Y/n or anybody. She was always the strong and confident girl that knew every answer for every question. She walked like she was untouchable. So how did she mess up?

‘Please stop crying,’ she thought. Her heart constricted knowing she was the reason Wanda was crying. Yet every ounce of her brain yelled for her to press the damn answer, to finally prove to Wanda that she could be defeated, to finally get the win that she had been craving for since freshman year.

So why couldn’t she just fucking press it? Looking back at the crowd and at the answer written down on her paper, her free hand crumpled the sheet as her heart overtook what her mind pleaded.

Feeling like time stopped, Y/n held her breath when those green eyes locked with her. ‘I want to win…I want to stay…but at the cost of this…this isn’t a win.’

Beyond logic and reason, Y/n pressed her answer. Confetti blew in the air as the judge announced, “And the winner is team # 1 with Wanda Maximoff as their team captain. Congratulations to Evergreen University!”

Regardless of what Wanda had ever done, said, or thought, Y/n knew that today was all because the school wanted to so badly pin Wanda against her. But Y/n finally knew better. This will not be the day she wins. This will be the day she was finally okay to be second to Wanda.

Many cheers and laughter filled the bus as the group celebrated the Evergreen University win. Wanda had been smiling so hard since the award ceremony that her cheeks started to hurt.

As she looked over the trophy, her eyes couldn’t stop looking at the sleeping figure near the back of the bus. ‘I almost lost it,’ Wanda thought. It was unlike her to make a mistake and if she was being honest, she didn’t know what to blame.

As much as she wanted to overlook her work, she wanted to leave that mistake in the past and enjoy the win. But as she kept looking back to Y/n, who hadn’t said a word to her since the final match, Wanda couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong.

Regardless, the drive back to Evergreen was filled with joy as Y/n finally slept after a long exhausting day.

Finals Week - Spring Semester - Junior Year

Wanda loved winning…but lately, it had a sour taste in her mouth. Finals week came in full swing, giving zero time for Wanda to dissect this weird feeling in her chest. She had helped some of her friends and classmates with studying, making her even more busy than usual.

By the time she was done with tests, the sour feeling still sat in her chest. With only two days left, Wanda couldn’t help but lose some sleep over this feeling. Why was winning suddenly so bad? When did it become something she felt guilty for?

Subconsciously, her mind gravitated towards Y/n. In her dreams, the moment before Y/n answered the final question replayed constantly. It was as if her mind took a vivid recording of the whole interaction. And as she replayed the moment she locked eyes with Y/n, Wanda couldn’t help but feel like the trophy wasn’t meant for her.

Of course she downplayed the scenario, believing that this was another mistake that Y/n had made for that day. And the words of Dean Holloway, this was something Y/n never took seriously. So why did she vividly remember how Y/n’s eyes looked the moment she had chosen her answer? Why did Y/n look so accepting of defeat? Why was there no anger or thrive behind them?

And the more she thought, the more she realized how little she saw of Y/n during the whole week. Friday, the last day of the semester, came around. During the test, her mind suddenly diverted to her. So when Wanda looked up and found Y/n in the crowd, she couldn’t help but want to talk to her, to see what exactly happened in that moment.

Was it something she made up in her head? Was she feeling weird for actually making a mistake in front of people? Was this blown out of proportion?

Regardless, Wanda didn’t dare describe this feeling as part of missing Y/n. Cause if she had, maybe she would have realized sooner that winning felt wrong this time. Because maybe, just maybe, it had pushed away the person that actually understood her better than anyone else.

Last Night - Spring Semester - Junior Year

Y/n Y/l/n,

We regret to inform you that your scholarship has been revoked for the following 2019 fall semester. This decision was not made lightly as the board is aware of the accomplishments you’ve brought to Evergreen University. Nevertheless, the requirement to place #1 in the most recent STEM competition was something we could not ignore.

We do hope you decide to enroll for your senior year. For further information on financial aid or loan applications, please visit the Bursar’s office.

Dean of the College of Arts & Sciences

Cedric Holloway

Evergreen University

The letter sat on the Y/n’s near empty desk as she continued to pack in preparation for tomorrow. It was the last night on campus for every student. While many chose to celebrate it with a party, Y/n chose to spend it alone.

The silence of her room provided some comfort as she cleared her bookshelf. “Why must I have so many books?”

While Y/n never imagined this would be where her college career with Evergreen ended, she certainly never regretted her choice. Then again, she hadn’t been home in forever, so that may change soon once she goes back.

Looking back at Natasha’s fully furnished side, Y/n could feel some guilt rising to her chest as she hadn’t broken the news yet to her best friend. Not wanting to burden the red head with a sad night, Y/n remained silent, hoping tomorrow would be best to break the news.

As for Y/n’s group, none of them were particularly angry about her mistake. Everyone tried their best to cheer their captain up, providing some comforting smiles and words. None of it truly mattered though. This was Y/n’s choice to make and she fully knew the consequences of it.

So for the first time in a while, Y/n was actually alone and not studying. That was until she came. Wanda stood in the hallway, thinking of how she would talk to Y/n, to hopefully apologize. She carried the trophy that was mailed in from the conference, one that actually had her name engraved on it.

But the trophy felt heavy and awkward in her hands, but it was the closest thing Wanda could think of as a conversation starter. Pushing her anxieties away, Wanda walked to Y/n’s dorm, surprised that the door was actually opened.

The first thing she noticed was the pile of boxes that almost blocked the doorway. Looking past it, Wanda couldn’t help but notice how bare Y/n’s side looked.

“What are you doing?” Y/n jumped from the corner of her room, hand on her chest.

“Jesus Christ, Maximoff, can you give a girl a warning?”

Wanda placed the trophy in the hallway, and walked around Y/n’s room, not caring for an invitation inside. Thinking back to the dorm setup, Evergreen University typically had students stay in the same dorm assigned to them from freshman year all the way to junior year. During senior year, students would be upgraded to bigger dorms.

“I thought you couldn’t transfer dorms till senior year was closer?” Wanda turned around to face Y/n, the empty side didn’t make sense as juniors typically left their items alone throughout the summer.

Y/n’s eyes glanced at the letter on her desk. “I’m moving to a new scenery.” She picked up the box with her knick knacks and placed it on top of the letter, hoping Wanda didn’t notice. The brown eyed girl leaned against her desk. She tilted her head noticing the shiny object in the hallway.

“Is that the trophy?” Wanda looked back, almost forgetting what she came here to do. She walked back to the hallway and grabbed the trophy. Their fingers brushed as Wanda handed it to Y/n. “Wow! It’s…it’s really beautiful.”

Y/n rubbed her thumb across Wanda’s name. Wanda Maximoff 2019 Champion. “Congratulations by the way. Sorry I wasn’t able to say it back on stage.” Y/n handed the trophy back to Wanda. If the girl was paying attention, she would’ve noted the odd look Wanda gave her.

Something was different and Wanda hated it. Winning always gave her a high but something about this interaction increased the bittersweet feeling in her chest. “What dorm hall are you relocating to?” Wanda placed the trophy on Y/n’s desk. “I could help you out if you need it.”

Already ready to help out, Wanda lifted the box of knick knacks, her fingers brushing over the letter. “Wanda-,” Y/n startled herself, not expecting to nearly yell at Wanda, “I- I -”

No words left Y/n’s mouth as those green eyes stared back at her. Suddenly, all those times where they yelled in each other's face came to mind. How close were they to ever…?

Y/n sighed, there was no use hiding from the truth now. “I’m actually going back home.” Wanda placed the box back down, still not understanding why Y/n’s things were packed. “I’m-”

Y/n scratched the back of her neck, avoiding Wanda’s stare. “I’m transferring to Langford University.” An eerie silence settled in Y/n’s room. So when Y/n got the courage to look back at Wanda, she hadn’t expected the teary eyes and offended look on Wanda’s face.

“You’re transferring? Why?” Moving off the desk, Y/n sat on her bed as Wanda leaned back on to the desk. “It’s - complicated. I really don’t want to go into it.”

Wanda’s hand balled up into a fist. The lack of details pissed her off. “You’re seriously not coming back?” Wanda hated how bitter everything tasted. The sight of her trophy pissed her off even more.

Y/n opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. She didn’t know what to say. She was leaving what she called home for the past three years. Not only that, she was leaving the girl that has been there since her first day. What could she even say?

Before she could admit anything, Y/n’s phone rang, breaking the tense atmosphere. “Sorry, let me take this real quick.” Y/n walked out to the hallway to answer her phone.

Wanda sighed with her head hung low. What was she going to do now? Being #1 was something her parents always pressured her to do. But ever since she met Y/n, #1 was something that motivated her to get out of bed and start the day extra early. Meeting Y/n meant countless hours studying just to make sure she knew the lessons by heart. Meeting Y/n meant her life revolved around beating the girl in every single thing. And as harsh as it sounded, it was the only way Wanda knew to get closer.

She turned around and glanced at the open box. There was a various amount of figurines, crystals, and journals thrown in. Wanda picked up a green crystal, one that almost matched her eyes. She remembered the day back in freshman year where Y/n had admitted she recently got into collecting crystals. Wanda thought at first it was a waste of money until she stopped by a local shop.

The red head could see why it was intriguing to buy them especially when you believe the auras and specialities that a certain rock can bring to your life. So in secret, Wanda bought a sphere of rose quartz and placed it in her room. She didn’t notice anything different in her life but then again, all her thoughts already surrounded Y/n.

Wanda looked back at the hallway and could hear Y/n still talking on the phone. It felt wrong to steal, especially since that was a no no in the crystal community. But the idea of Y/n leaving her without a single thing to keep for herself felt cruel. So when she slipped on the necklace, as if it already belonged to her, she could feel her heart skip a beat at the thought of Y/n giving it to her.

Wanda tucked the crystal under her shirt when her fingers brushed the letter once more. The school logo printed on the top right called her name. It felt wrong to intrude, but the more she reminded herself of the situation, the less she cared about her morals.

Gently sliding the letter from under the box, Wanda quickly read it. Eyebrows furrowed, Wanda read “We regret to inform you…”

Y/n shuffled back into the room causing Wanda to straighten up. “Sorry about that. I need to get Natasha. She’s stuck at some frat party without a ride back home.” The brunette crumpled the piece of paper and tucked it into her pocket. Y/n was too distracted to notice. “Again, I’m really sorry but congratulations on the win Wanda.” Y/n looked at Wanda with the most sincere eyes. “Incase no one has told you, I’m really proud of you.”

With one last look, Y/n left her dorm, hoping the Wanda would be decent enough to lock it up for her. And all Wanda could focus on was the sound of her name leaving Y/n’s lips. ‘You never call me Wanda.’

‘Like hell I’m going to let this happen.’ Wanda stormed into her father’s office, knowing he would be working another late night. The clear warm glow from his room indicated that he was there.

Storming through the doors caused him to look up from his computer, clearly unexpecting guests at that moment.

“Give her scholarship back.” Wanda slammed the letter onto his desk, crossing her arms hoping to show that she wasn’t messing around. The brunette couldn’t think straight about anything after she fully read the letter, and by now, she didn’t know whether to strangle Y/n for not telling her or for her father to even approve such decisions.

“This decision was not made lightly.” Wanda could read past her father’s sentence and she was not going to take no for an answer.

“Then clearly you’ve made the wrong decision.” Eric sighed knowing just how stubborn his daughter was. It was unfortunately a trait she got from him. Knowing fully well just how smart Wanda was, explaining this decision was going to be a disaster and a headache away.

Looking past the letter and into his daughter’s eyes, he’s never seen her be this angry. Sure they’ve had arguments, but they’ve subsided ever since she started to attend college. Eric was hoping it was because Wanda was getting older and more mature.

But as she stood there, eyebrows furrowed with a frown on her face, it felt like she was 16 all over again. Not wanting to beat around the bush, Eric figured to cut to the chase.

“She’s a threat.” He didn’t like to admit it, but there was hardly anyone on campus that could match his daughter’s intelligence. This was something Eric wanted to keep. But the more he noticed Y/n move up on the Dean’s list, the more he feared Wanda’s spot would be threated. While he was confident in his daughter’s ability, he simply wanted to keep her spot safe. And that meant dealing with Y/n.

“She’s my equal.” All the guilt from the competition finally made sense. And as more things continued to click, the more Wanda stood in horror at the things she said to Y/n. This was all starting to become a nightmare, one that Wanda prayed to go away. But the look on her father’s face pissed her off even more. “If you don’t, I’m transferring. And there’s nothing you can do that will stop me.”

Giving him no time to respond, Wanda walked out of the office. There was no time to think about her ultimatum, not when all she could think about was Y/n.

‘Say something to her, Wanda, for fucks sake.’ It was finally the last day of the semester. Every student was mandated to leave by a certain time. While there was a large crowd of kids with their backpacks and suitcases, all Wanda could focus on was the goodbye happening between Natasha and Y/n.

The brunette had stayed up all night figuring out ways to get Y/n’s scholarship back. At one point, she even considered paying for Y/n’s tuition herself if it meant getting her to come back. But her father would immediately block her allowance if he caught wind of this.

So far, she hadn’t gotten a response back from him. ‘Maybe he needs more time.’ But time was running out as Natasha helped Y/n with the last box. Percy was already in the driver seat, ready for the long drive back home.

She could overhear their goodbyes and that Natasha would visit soon to hear the full story. But still, Wanda stood paralyzed, unable to move. ‘What if she doesn’t want to see me? What if I was too mean to her?’

And as Y/n got into the car, waving her goodbyes, Wanda stood behind the tree, clutching on to the only thing she had of Y/n. Tears quietly fell down her cheeks, a lingering question on her mind. ‘Did I push you away when you needed me the most?’

Taglist: @halobaby @arelyitsherec8 @blackxwidowsxwife @cristin-rjd @madamevirgo @trikruismybitch @paradiselost916 @mmmmokdok @morbid-gaymer @dailyavengering @itsnottilly @helloalycia @randomshyperson @tomy5girls @daenerys713 @ensorcellme @lezzzbehonesthere @imagine-reblog

@sighsam @olsensnpm @tquick99 @feolok @emilyprentisslittlewhore @mvddison99 @iamapotato @yuhloversxx @mjaudrey @upsidedowndanvers @wandavixen @magicallymaximoff @username23345 @coollemonsaresour @littlewinchester15 @aimezvousbrahms @afuckingshituniverse @am-just-a-cosmic-joke-to-me

@ohmygooddamnbisexualmood @diaryoflife @s7uts @newyork1432 @the-anxious-stargazer @hello-mtf @marvelousbelladonna @ima-gi–na-tion @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @the-camilucha

@itsnottilly @171611 @kaitlynroseb @daisybri7 @drpepperobsessed @bemyvitamin @musicinourlips @marvelousbelladonna @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xastrydx @chasethemoon @naixia00 @lostandsearching @stupidsapphicsstuff @haechanana @the-camilucha @severepeanutartisanhands @owloftheshadows @ywuen @mixed-fandom-mess @loomontoia @ilovemarvelwomen @coxmicbabygirl @cyanide-mustard @mrs-avenger3000 @prentisshoe @andrea-stark @simpforwandanat @yourtaletotell @magically-queer-stuff

@imapotatao @iliketozoneout @maximoffbrossupremacy@olsensnpm @psychadelichues @whitelotus00 @taliiiaasteria @tynix @autorasexy @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @hiiraya @reginassweetheart @milkeeteaa @alyciaddict @justgotlizzied

@msmothermaximoff @ielliesitchyeyereposts @nothanksbye07 @unicorniusfallapatorius @misshelchwhen @marvelogic @emiliaisdead @tobiaslut

@fawnedolly @lizzieswife101 @viosblog112 @theenglishswiftie @chickenlittlsblog @starry-night17 @autorasexy @alyciaddict

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #My Rival #Rivals to Lovers #college au wanda maximoff #College AU #college!wanda maximoff #marvel #mionemymind #academic rivals

489 notes · View notes

thevirtualvalentine · 3 months

Text

Challengers

Plot: three young tennis stars find themselves in a sticky love triangle, or, satosugu x reader x Challengers!au, but if you were tashi and had stayed in the hotel room that night in 2006.

Warnings: threesomes (mfm), afab!reader, competitiveness, cunnilings, handjobs n’ oral, switch!gojo, fingering, porn with plot, missionary prince gojo, doggy king geto, they both have a massive crush on reader, banter, praise, degradation, multiple orgasms.

authors notes: I got super carried away and it’s such a long read (6.6k), enjoy! 😇

There was one thing two of these complete opposites could agree on. Y/n L/n was the sexiest tennis player either of them had ever seen. On and off the court.

Satorus' big bright eyes stared at your recent brand campaign on social media in awe as he scrolled through his phone during downtime before practice.

“Can you believe that? Look at this Su” Satoru shows his friend in utter disbelief like you just cheated on him or something. His eyes haven’t left his screen in over five minutes, he looks pained yet fascinated knowing you have no idea who he is. Additionally, he’s oddly defensive over his phone even though he offered to show the raven-haired male.

“Like she’d fuck with a guy like you,” Suguru mumbles quietly under his breath in annoyance, rolling his eyes and leaning further into his stretch. Sometimes he wishes Satoru took this a little bit more seriously considering upcoming dates.

While their favorite thing to talk about outside of tennis was you, they had serious work to do before an upcoming competition that the two of them would be competing in.

“But you know, Masamichi said we got invited to a party of hers before the match..” Satoru makes his way to the lined court, serving some while waiting for his companion.

“Shut up and just do your drills Satoru,” Suguru muses while grabbing his racket, making a face while returning a stray ball right at the white-haired man. He quickly ties his long hair back in a low ponytail before gearing up for practice.

“Ouchie!! Suguru be careful where you aim those,” he pouts, running frantically around the court before dramatically grabbing the net to state his grievances. He can only hear his partner darkly laugh with his back turned to him. Suguru has always had a tendency to be a meanie!

But, before they went to your party, they had wanted to watch you play a match in the exact upcoming competition. Suguru was the most inquisitive to see your infamous backhand the press can’t seem to shut up about in various headlines. Satoru would never pass up the opportunity to see you in motion.

Later that week at the match, the two of them arrive together and wave off various paparazzi looking for interviews before finding their seats. “Look look— is that her?” Satoru voices as you enter the court, they’re watching from their meticulously purchased stand seats as a woman with dark skin and a matching set begins to stretch. Your long curly hair is pulled back in a keen style as you showcase your limber frame.

“Unbelievable,” Suguru cannot ignore the sly smirk that graces Gojo's face as he observes you. There were visible glimmers in his friend's blue eyes that clearly shone for you.

Suguru isn’t sure if he’s jealous about it all, but he interjects nevertheless. “Again, like she’d want you over me.”

The match commences with your serve. The two of them instantaneously manspread in their seats, gazes glued to your every movement. You had absolute domineering control of the court, causing your opponent to run around like a chicken with her head cut off. Even as the ball was smashed to either side of the court, their yearning was fixated on Y/n L/n, the tennis prodigy.

During a particularly electrified set, Suguru rests his hand on Satoru's thigh. He can feel the stiffness of his friends' pants, he recognizes it because of his own growingly awkward condition. Fuck, he knew they were both whipped as they exhaled a long-held breath simultaneously. Neither of them realized they’d been holding it while watching you in the first place.

You ultimately win the match, exclaiming your victory boldly. “Come on!” Satoru doesn’t know if there’s a word for it, smitten maybe? Gobsmacked? Horny? Is he in love? He doesn’t know. He just knows you’re beautiful in that moment, emulating your joy with a smile of his own.

Later on that day, a party was held in one of your family's villas, the two of them couldn’t help themselves from gawking at all the decorations dedicated to you. Their jaws were practically on the floor seeing precisely how successful you were. Satoru’s dick hurt with how hard it was sitting in his pants, khakis aren’t really great for boners.

The duo finds you on the dance floor with your friends, a nice fitting electric blue dress hugs your curvy body while you sway and dance to the beat. It’s effortless, “wooow,” Suguru says downing his bitter drink. They’re not doing excellently to camouflage themselves with hard-pointed gazes, just standing there watching you at a nearby event table.

Their attire pales in comparison to yours, simple slacks with a nice suitable polo. Colors befitting the two of them respectively. Satoru sporting a pretty pale blue shirt and Suguru in muted navy (no doubt stolen from Satoru). You see the two of them watching you, but you don’t really mind. You know they’ll find their way over to you eventually.

In fact, it doesn’t take long. They scamper up to you in a hurry when they spot you sitting down to take a drink in a less densely populated area of the party.

“Satoru Gojo,” the man with short white hair and big bright blue eyes conveys.

“Suguru Geto,” the one with mysterious allure and long black hair articulated.

But, it comes out indistinguishable as they decide to speak in unison. “Yin and Yang, I know you two.” You take an interlude to catch your breath and sip your drink. Their hungry eyes track your hasty mouth to the straw with a similar thirst.

“So, which ones which?” they gulp, but Suguru is eager to bite first.

“Guess,” and it comes out how you would imagine. Flirtatious with a dynamism of sarcasm, you can spot the growing shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

“Your match today was incredible, it was like an entirely different game. I almost felt bad for Mei Mei” Truthfully, in his heart of hearts, Satoru Gojo cannot and will not be beat. Not even by his best friend. His pride runs too deep to face a reality in which he does not win.

You look down at your hands and smile before replying to him, soaking in the compliment. Just like a flower, he thinks you’re beautiful. “Thank you, but don’t she’s a freak, honestly. You should hear the rumors about her and her little brother.”

Suguru almost spits his booze across the small table, he didn’t think you of all people would be the one to say such gossip. Beautiful, athletic, and very witty. He likes it, at least that’s what he’s concluded.

“Hey, come hang out with us down by the beach later. Do you smoke?” He has also decided that he’d act upon his feelings. What’s the worst that could happen? Getting to spend time with you would be fun.

“Uh,” you dart your eyes between them considering your options, “Yeah, sure. I’ll come by.” Not a moment sooner though, your parents call you over to oversee some of your financial business partners at the party. You are whisked away by eager hands, quickly forgetting about the two of them as they’re left to watch you mingle with a sense of want in their chest.

“She totally wants me,” Satoru says full of blind confidence, not even bothering to look at his friend to confirm his thoughts.

And again, there’s that sparkle in Satoru’s eyes. “For the final time, like it’s you she wants. She was obviously flirting with me.” He is always full of fire and smacks the back of Satorus' neck in compensation.

Later on, when most of the attendees have trickled out one by one, the pair finds themselves plotting incessantly once more. Neither of them is able to help themselves in their delusions, discussing to share you like pieces of pie.

“Still here?” You say when you find them sitting off to the side by their lonesome. They always seem to be together, attached at the hip like a husband and husband.

“We were waiting for you. Come down to the beach with us.” Even though it was a question, one which you didn’t have to answer, Suguru's raging confidence speaks volumes making it a statement. smooth, a little too smooth.

You look back once more at your surroundings to ensure your family didn’t need you for any pictures, it would be awkward if they found out you were sneaking around with two guys. Yet, you indulge them, “Uh,” hesitation finds you biting down on your bottom lip slightly, “Sure.” you say, shaking any negative thoughts from your head. this was a party after a great win today, go have fun.

As a trio once more, the three of you make your way to the grainy shores, doing your best to avoid steep drops. Both of them engaging you in conversation simultaneously, almost talking over each other with their boyish charm. “One at a time please, I can’t understand you both when you talk like that,” you say with a huff, sitting down on a dry rock while the twins find themselves perched in chairs.

Soft waves scurry against the sand in droves painting a scenic backdrop for your conversation against the dark blue sky littered with stars. Suguru lights a smoke and the sparks ignite the air around him. He offers it to you and doesn't mind your inevitable rejection. You do have an image he supposes.

“Lemme ask you something,” he says huffing smoke, passing his cigarette to Satoru. You nod, letting your body face the water as the unclear and mysterious man talks.

“What’s your angle about the whole Jujutsu College thing, you’re too good for the collegiate league.” His eyes find yours, awaiting your answer as he leans further back into his seat.

Satoru, unlike his friend, knows the value of education. He also knows you’ll be attending the same institute as him to play tennis alongside your studies.

You answer him in a smooth tone, sure of your answer, “It has classes y’know. I don’t want my only life skill to be hitting a ball with a racket.” Despite the will of Mother Nature, neither of them could hear the sound of the waves over their heartbeats. Hearing you tell them exactly how it is makes them admire you as a player even more.

“I get it, you’re making us wait for you.” He finds himself grinning lightly. “The tennis phenomenon who cares about her education.” You’re exactly the woman they knew you’d be. Smart, cunning, and ambitious. There’s nothing you couldn’t do, and there’s absolutely nothing that could make either of them want you more in that moment. Satoru drones out the rest of your conversation as Suguru gets into morals and life goals on the ethics of tennis.

Satoru takes this time to really study you. He notes the smoothness of your skin, the enunciation of your collarbones through your strapless dress, and the silver hoops that dangle from your ears and sway with every word you say. He can feel himself almost begin to salivate and glow red.

“It’s a relationship,” you assert. That’s when Satoru has half a mind to pay attention again to the conversation instead of ogling you. Suguru has seemed to hit a nerve with you about whatever you were discussing.

“Is that what you and Mei Mei had today? A relationship?” Suguru throughout his career has found himself asking these confounding questions. Wanting to know the true essence of why he plays his sport. Your conversation and mind have intrigued him, he’s going to push you further just for the sake of intelligent conversation.

“Yes, it was like we were in love like we were the only ones there. Maybe somewhere far away.” Still confused, he wants to chatter more but Satoru seems quick on the uptake.

“When you yelled,” the gears in his mind flip to that exact moment during the match when you hit the winning shot. It was electrifying and infectious.

You’re touched he was able to examine your game like that. “Yeah,” you smile at him tenderly over your shoulder. Maybe they both weren’t so bad, a bit rough around the edges you suppose. “Okay, I gotta go before my parents need me. I’ll see you at school Satoru,” you reveal while grabbing your shoes and patting the sand off your dress.

“Do you have Facebook?” Suguru interjects before you can disappear into the night, only to be seen in another brand campaign on their phone before practice. If he didn't seize this chance, when would there be another opportunity?

“What?” You dig your heels in the sand and spin around to face them. There is a moment of silence as the wind gently blows your long curls into your lipgloss.

Satoru decides he’ll be brave too. “He’s asking for your number, and so am I.”

“You both want my number?” A look of incredulity transits your face at the implication. A pair of best friends, seemingly more, who both want you? It seems a little far-fetched.

“Yes.” Quick, concise, unanimous.

“Ok, well, I’m not a home wrecker.” Whatever is happening between them, stays with them. Your eyes are on tennis and your future.

“Whatttt, nooo. It’s an open relationship. Come hang out with us later. We’re at the same hotel. Room 206.” Satoru proposes to lighten the mood. Suguru only chuckles in his chair at your words, coughing up pools of smoke in the process. What a dope.

“Bye,” is all you leave them with, making your way back up the beach to your party with your friends and family. You can audibly hear boo’s following you from the shore from the two boys.

after leaving the party, the two make their way back to the hotel. Coming up with new ideas on how to win your affections. Going as far as to stake their match tomorrow on it. The room's AC had been broken since the two boys got there. Suguru needed the window open anyway if he was going to smoke.

“So, what are the odds you think she’s coming?” Satoru asks for the sixth time this hour alone. He’s dressed only in a pair of boxers feeling the heat, he's lying upside down on the bed observing Suguru chucking cards into the trash can in between punching the AC unit in hopes of it working. They’ve shared a few drinks between the two of them while yearning desperately in their shared hotel room.

Suguru, in typical fashion matching his friend, dons a shirt of his Satorus' with boxers. “She’s not coming,” he says with a mix of disappointment and longing as a way to console himself. Perhaps the two of them had glazed it on too strong.

“Besides, if she came how would that even work? Do we just wait till she kisses one of us and kicks the other out?” The thoughts that have been plaguing his mind now reside in the blue-eyed beauty’s.

Then, three knocks at the door rouse them from their depressive slump, they eye one another to confirm what they both just heard. Had you really come? With another three knocks the adrenaline starts pumping gas.

Fuck. Dumb and dumber run to clean the room, throwing the all cards in the trash can, straightening up the bed sheets, and most importantly putting on a proper pair of pants and a shirt. They practically trip over one another to open the door.

“Hey!” But Geto’s just a little faster.

“Again with the speaking in unison thing. Stop it.” You had been listening to them clamber around in there before opening the door. they laugh before showing you around the room and settling down in a circle on the ground.

“So, did you guys like grow up together?” They snicker and laugh with each other as you join them on the carpeted floor in conversation. “What! I just mean, it seems like you guys are brothers,” you say correcting yourself a little nervously. Now that you’re alone with the two of them it’s all setting in. Your eyes catch their adam's apple as they talk, the bobbing making you swallow hard.

“Well, we went to boarding school together. Been bunk mates since we were 12 years old. That kind of thing.” Suguru answers your question as an excuse to eye you longer. Tiny black shorts strangling your muscular thighs, a hot pink zip-up jacket with probably nothing underneath it, and you have your long natural curls flowing down your back and face. You’re just so tantalizing no matter what you’re in, and he’s sure Satoru feels the same way.

“Oh, and how often does this happen?” You pause, sitting up on your knees making your hips extra plush as you query, “Going after the same girl?”

Yin and yang eye each other before answering as if in deep thought, “Never.”

“Not as often as you’d think. We usually have different types” Truthfully, they wanted to sound sincere.

“Oh, so should I feel special?” but that honesty stung nonetheless. While they didn’t mean to, it came off a bit rude. Why even entertain these two freaks in the first place?

Satoru answers your question to soften the mood, “Aren’t you everyone’s type?” he has a strange threshold of emotional intelligence, more than Suguru. That's what you like about him though, his eyes that see everything.

Both of their stares pining you in place, while they are nice, you can sense a lingering intensity in their terminology. It ignited something in you, sending a tremble through your spine thinking of what they could do to you in the security of these four walls.

Your eyes flicker between the two of them but then fall on the bed, noting the fact the two once separate beds have been forced together. You face back to the pretty pair feeling the tension amidst you all reaching its climax.

“And what about the two of you,” your hands point back and forth trying to say the obvious without saying it. “I’m not a home wrecker.”

“Us?” They ask in unison almost comically. When they realize you’re dead serious they shut up and consider it for a second.

“Well..” Suguru starts, but Satoru stops.

A flush of red overtakes his face immediately, “no, Su, not that.”

He snickers to himself lightly in a teasing manner, but your curiosity gets the better of you.

“Tell me please, I feel like you two at least owe me that.” You can practically feel yourself digging your nails into the skin of your palm in anticipation of their little secret.

“Fine. Ok.” The confession begins. “Suguru taught me how to jerk off when we were 12. I think I was a late bloomer or something,” he says avoiding eye contact still beet red from the neck up. It’s honestly kind of cute but you still find yourself giggling slightly.

Much to Satoru’s dismay, Suguru only joins in on the laughter. The white-haired man places his head between his knees trying to think of some sort of rebuttal in the middle of his embarrassment.

“Whatever, you wouldn’t be the one laughing if it happened to you.”

Suguru attempts to console him to no avail and you slam down the rest of his drink when he isn’t looking, wiping the excess off the corners of your mouth. Shitty beer never sits right with you, but if you were going to go through with your plan you’d need liquid courage.

Rising from the floor you place yourself in the middle of their pushed-together beds. Sitting with your legs crossed eyeing them both from the floor. “C’mere,” you say softly, patting the bed to signal their attention.

Like a moth to a flame, they scurry over, settling themselves on either side of you.

You can feel the heat radiating from them just by being sandwiched between them, their knees confining yours. Their torsos completely turned to face you, waiting to see what you’ll do. Neither of them could face your rejection, who are you going to pick?

You lean towards Suguru giggling, twirling the hair that lays on his shoulder around your fingers. His face light pink as he looks at you expectantly, waiting for anything. It’s like he looks lost, confused as to what to do. It’s cute for someone who always seems so sure of himself. It suits him, you think.

Then, you turn to Satoru, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours with gorgeous white lashes. You’d never really seen them till now, then you noticed how well defined his cupid's bow was, and the light shade of his lips… you couldn’t help it, your mouth was meeting his with unexpected need. You felt him physically relax into you, his enormous palm resting on the fat of your thigh as you held his face. He was kissing you like he was familiar with your taste.

Suguru didn’t know he was going to be this turned on at the site before his eyes, not particularly sore that you kissed his friend before him. Bygones. It’s just thrilling to him how good the two of you look while doing it, he almost forgot he was in the room with you.

But you didn’t forget about him, of course, you have to peel yourself off of the needy man next to you to get to him though. “Can I kiss you,” you ask him.

And he nods, “More than welcome sweetheart.” You simply roll your eyes, what a charmer.

He’s all teeth and tongue, his mouth and hands trying to suck you closer to him. You felt like you couldn’t breathe and it was sending heat straight downwards, making you draw your knees together.

Though Satoru separates them, letting his appendage creep up your bare thigh trying to test the waters. You drag it up further to encourage him, he shows his gratitude by kissing the skin of your neck. He can feel you moan as you kiss his friend and he doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life. There’s just no way this was really happening.

You try kissing them at the same time, but it’s just overwhelming. The roughness of their fingertips makes you groan into their touch. It’s a battle of will and you can’t compete with their hunger as they devour you, greedy hands trying formidably hard to claim you as their own.

Satoru tows you into his lap, placing the plush of your ass directly on his boner. You can see the light pink hue coating his face as he watches Suguru slot himself between your legs, it makes you feel drunk to be between their immense frames like this. He grabs your legs as they dangle off the bed, letting his shoulders hold the brunt of their weight. His dark eyes find yours as he smiles, kissing your soft inner thighs with pepper-light praise.

It almost feels like you’re not yourself, witnessing your chest rise and fall so sporadically in anticipation of what his mouth is going to do next. Satoru's breath hitches as his partner slides your flimsy shorts down to your ankles, eyes locked on the translucent slick connecting you to your underwear.

Your face feels hot knowing they’re both looking at your indecent cunt, but instead they praise you.

“Pretty girl with an even prettier pussy,” Suguru says. Smug bastard.

“No fair. Do something or I will.” The blue-eyed beauty pouts, twisting your nipple from underneath your jacket. It elicits a whine from deep within your chest, their attention making you grow hotter and more ravenous every second.

Congrats, you just made their dicks 12x heavier in their pants. More of that sweet noise, they agree.

Su plants his face in your hot pussy with no shame, licking long stripes up your folds. “Fuck, Satoru you wouldn’t believe what she tastes like,” he remarks wiping your slick from his lips and directly into his mouth.

“Let me try,” his tone is different, all silliness gone, and it's quite dominant. He grabs Suguru by his dark hair, raising the male from his kneeling position to kiss him so he can get a taste of you himself.

The sight makes warmth shoot right to your guts, they’re making out so intensely it almost feels like you’re intruding, but you can’t stop watching them.

“You’re right,” he says with a wicked grin and blown-out pupils, “she tastes fucking incredible.”

You can see the look on their faces, they’re sick and you’re worried you’re going to become as fucked up as them by the end of this.

Continuing their ministrations, Suguru is back to kissing your thighs while Satoru massages your breasts in his large palms. But something’s different, their energy has changed. It’s been replaced with something you can’t quite yet place your finger on.

You start to feel teeth graze your supple skin, on both your neck and inner thighs. They smirk in unison feeling you twitch lightly in their hold, taking it as a sign to continue. “What’s wrong? You’re so shy all of a sudden. Where’s that on the court ferocity baby?”

His voice is smooth and low in your ears, you open your droopy eyes to find him already looking right back at you. “Shut up.” What a bunch of jackasses.

He laughs, pulling your cunt flush to his eager lips. “Fine then,” and damn does it feel good. His wet muscle rolls on your clit in steady waves, never breaking his pace. Suguru's warm breath and open-mouthed pants into your pussy have you crushing his skull between your toned thighs, but his iron grip stops you.

He alternates between flicking and sucking but you can’t follow because Satoru is making you feel limp in his arms. For all his cuteness, he’s really a beast; rutting his cock into your ass as he bites into your shoulder for a better grip on you. You have half to mind to tell him to not be so rough, it’s too hot outside to wear a turtleneck.

It just all feels so good, you didn’t think it could get any better till you feel a finger prodding at your entrance. It’s thick, and you welcome it with no fuss, sighing as you grind down on his worn hand.

“Her pussy is so soft, fuck I need to put my dick in this.” And there’s another finger, it burns but the calloused ridges feel much better than your own hands.

“You are disgusting,” you bark back, but it sounds pathetic as his friend pinches your dark nipples between his fingers mid-sentence.

“You’re the one twitching on my fingers, talk about disgusting.” His words sting and make your face feel hot, but he beams, delving in for more, making out with your sensitive bud as his fingers pump in and out of you.

Satoru feels this is all unsportsmanlike. He doesn’t get to taste you, but he guesses he should be grateful to just touch you. Something in him wants more, and needs to be selfish, “I get to fuck you first, understand?”

Your small face rests in his hand, your head tipped upwards to meet his infinite eyes that tell you he’s not asking. “Please S’Toru, mmn— need you now,” spit pools in the corners of your mouth and he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked sexier.

The darker-haired man merely chuckles, knowing he’s been beaten by the way your pussy is gripping his fingers right now. Only Satoru could do something like that.

But in the meantime, he’ll stretch you out just how you need.

You can only assume there are three fingers knuckle deep inside you, you honestly can’t tell because your eyes are rolled back in satisfaction. They’re caging you, bringing you to a threshold of pleasure you didn’t know before. “Gonna— ah! Wai- gonna cum,” his three digits curve upwards, jamming that spot as he sucks your clit within his velvety lips.

White hot pleasure clouds your vision as you come undone in front of them, their eyes watching every jolt devastate you. If they could make you cum like this, what else could they do to you?

“You’re so perfect for us, jus’ keep cumming princess.” You’re a moaning heaving mess in his arms but Satoru thinks he might be in love with you. He can’t take his eyes away from your face as you writhe so helplessly.

They let you catch your breath a moment before getting into the next position, removing any extra clothes that might prevent them from fully feeling you, kissing your face and thighs whenever you shiver. Despite all the shit you gave them, they were actually kinda sweet.

You let them move you to the center of the bed, Satoru slotting himself between your legs while your pelvis rests on his hips. Suguru innocently sits close by next to you waiting for his set of instructions.

“Do you trust us?” He asks.

“Of course not.” You joke, arching your eyebrow in defiance to them. Satoru slaps your clit with his cock for misbehaving, and you had not realized it before but he’s big. It’s almost to your belly button and you have no idea how you’re going to be able to take all of him.

Like a predator, he senses your fear, “kiss her,” he briefs Suguru.

His mouth and tongue still taste like you, warm and lithe as it seeps into your mouth. You’re distracted flat on your back as Gojo thumbs your still-sensitive clit, wanting to give you a little pleasure for the impending pain.

It’s like him to pick missionary, you think. You can’t see him but he’s biting his own lip to the point it could draw blood as he works his long cock into you inch by fucking inch. It’s torture not just fucking you to the hilt but he’ll be nice.

“So good baby, this pussy’s real fucking good,” he hisses through his teeth. You can only moan into Suguru's mouth, he drowns out and swallows up every cry of pain and pleasure.

They’re shallow and steady strokes that make you impatient, you respond by grinding yourself onto him with fervor. “Stop it, you know I can’t take it if you do that,” he whines, you feel his weight fall close by on the bed. “You’re just so damn tight.”

With his hand propped on the mattress, Satoru hits somewhere deeper inside you, making you reflexively close your legs around his small waist. It’s all a blur, Sugurus' snake-like tongue and Satorus' cannon of a dick.

They’re relentless. You feel like he’s carving a new hole in your insides with how thorough he’s maiming you. “You like it huh, love when I fuck you hard like this?” It’s all but enunciated with a potent stroke behind each syllable.

He knows you can’t answer him with his best friend commandeering your mouth, the sight before him was beyond enthralling. But he doesn’t need you to, each squelch of your cunt providing him with enough proof.

Plap, plap, plap. His heavy balls hitting your ass over and over again. He doesn’t even need to do anything unique with a dick like that, he might be too prideful to use it correctly.

“Su, I-I want you to eat her out as I fuck her, please,” even though Satoru was the one in control of this situation, you don’t miss the submission in his voice to his equal.

He hums, leaving your mouth to pick up where he left off earlier. Memories of your pussy sweet like candy on his tongue flash in his mind as he tucks his long black hair behind his ear to not get in the way of his feast.

It’s so fucking sexy, you moan out a mix of their names too far gone to differentiate at this point. They could be your god for all you care. “Don’t s-stop.”

“Of course sweet thing,” Suguru replies, they’ll service you however you need them to.

Satoru sits on his feet to give Geto space, inching his cock in you deliberately slow. Coupled with Su's stellar oral, you’re good as gone. Twitching and arching off the bed as you’re spread and fucked.

You didn’t know sex could feel this good, they’re so intently focused on your pleasure it’s overwhelming. That familiar fire kindling in your tummy. “Oh! I’m- I’m gonna—”

“Already?” They say in unison, watching as you cum for the second time tonight. Satoru grabs Suguru in support, your cunt is sucking him in so tight that he’s probably going to cum himself if he doesn’t calm down.

Suguru swallows your loud whines, wanting to be a little mindful of the late hour. That has his friend coming undone, “Me too— fuckkkk.”

You’re shivering in aftershock as he shallowly pumps his load in you. Letting you milk his tip as he rocks his hips lightly. It’s the most he’s ever came, and he just can’t stop cumming because it’s started to leak out of you. A foamy mix of him and yourself now coating his frosty happy trail.

“Well, that’s just not fair,” Suguru says, wiping his face and putting his fingers in your mouth. You obediently suck, feeling a tad bit remorseful. After all, he didn’t get to cum, and he’s been so good to you and your cunny.

You weakly grab his wrist, trying to speak with your mouth stuffed. “What?”

He withdraws, letting his hand drag down your body, squeezing your tit in his warm palm before resting on your tummy. The sensation of him tapping his fingers against your flesh lights you on fire all over again.

“Fuck me, I can take it. Or what? Are you too pussy?”

What a damn brat, you’re just like Satoru. At least, that’s what he thinks. After all, you both give him this nauseating sense of frustration to put you in your place for your sheer arrogance.

He just rolls his eyes, amused nonetheless, “Okay.”

He pulls a limp and exhausted Satoru from out between your legs, informing him of his next intentions before they have to go to sleep for their match tomorrow. You watch the two of them converge from on your stomach, trying to collect yourself. The feeling of something new is still so exciting even if you’re acting confident.

After what felt like forever one of them crawls back over to the bed. “Ass up hun, c’mon I wanna see it.” Suguru is hot in a different way than Satoru, as you get into position he starts pumping his cock from somewhere just out of reach. “Wow baby, beautiful arch,” he sneers, but it is genuine. He’s leaking pre just toying with himself while watching you.

“Clean her up,” he commands. Satoru obeys, giving your ass a light smack before positioning himself behind you. You’ve never had someone eat you out like this before, whatever their fetish was with tasting you was; it was heaven.

He spits in your pussy before dribbling it back up gain. Like a dog he’s responsible for cleaning his own mess, groaning at the taste of himself and you coating your thighs and folds. You’re sure it’s been gone for a while now but he doesn’t stop, neither does Suguru. Just standing there, stroking himself with a pink hue coating his face.

It’s mind-shattering at this point how diminutive you feel to their impulses. Incoherent babble about how good it feels and how it’s too much slip past your lips as you’re forced to watch his abs tense and flex in tandem with his sharp v-line, but he’s slow. Just edging himself over there as Satoru devours you. His tongue cooling your worn cunt.

“Careful, don’t make her cum again.” Enough watching, he honestly can’t take much more himself.

Satoru begrudgingly stops and sits on the bed by your head, waiting for further instruction.

“You think you’re ready?” His features are shrouded in a dark halo, raven hair cascading down his collarbones as he mounts you.

You deeply want to say yes but you can feel your pussy clenching questioning it, his broad shoulders looming over you. “Yes..” maybe you bit off more than you can chew. He would be the type to love doggy, you think.

He grins, lining himself up with your slit and coating his tip in your excess juices. “Good.” It knocks the wind out of you with how girthy he is.

If Satoru was length, Suguru was girth. You white knuckle the bed sheet as he fucks the sense out of you. Starting from the tip of your toes to the crown of your scalp he rearranged you.

“Nghhh—” You can’t say or do anything, just accept his intrusion. Tears begin to well up in your eyes, bracing yourself as Suguru picks up speed.

He’s exact, precise, and doesn’t waste a single ounce of energy in his stroke. It’s deep and punctual, powerful in your guts. “Fu-u-uck,” he has you stuttering over your words and the tears begin to spill from his mean dick.

“Aw, you cryin’?” Satoru says, wiping the tears from your face as you look to him for some sort of mercy. You should have known better, his icy eyes and tone betraying any semblance of pity to the brute pounding you’re receiving.

He just grunts behind you, hands bruising your sides surely from his grip alone. That’s the only thing keeping you up, the sheer power in his thrust makes the sound and smell of sex pungent.

Satoru takes your hand and places it on his shaft, he himself is a little envious of the sight and needs tending to again. Your sense of perception becomes needier to please and oblige his wishes, jerking his fat dick as his best friend pounds you.

It’s cliché, but you didn’t expect it to be this good. The two of them totally ruining you in their shitty hotel room, two arrogant rising tennis stars sharing you greedily.

The tension in the room builds, barreling towards completion as desperate moans and groans erupt from you all. A hedonistic sight indeed, chasing after your ends.

It’s Suguru who causes the domino effect, picking up speed and hunching over to rest his body on top of yours. You buckle under the weight which has him even deeper inside you. “Just like that, stay there,” it’s firm.

He’s moaning, driving himself in and out of you with reckless abandon. His hair wild as he mutters obscenities about your pussy. His hips begin to stutter, causing Satoru to follow suit hearing you both scream like animals.

Your hand works over just the top half of his cock as he cums, overstimulating him but he can’t help but buck his hips into your hand for more. Next thing you know, you’re finishing too, the rest of it being a blur from his spent you were.

A disgusting pile of sweat, cum, and spit coats the three of you on that bed. Catching your breaths and seeking warmth from each other after what you just did. “Are you sure you guys haven’t done that before?” You break the silence with a joke.

“We could do it again,” Satoru mumbles, half joking half serious.

“We have a game. Shower then sleep,” Suguru says matter-of-factly, removing his forearm from his eyes.

The three of you stumble to the bathroom, sticky and hot as you pile in the bath. It’s quiet, but it’s nice.

You talk about what went wrong and what went right as you wash each other, even talking about strategy for the game tomorrow. Oh, and of course the infamous bet.

Whoever wins gets to have your heart, right?

461 notes · View notes

venus-maneater · 11 months

Text

a loyal dog’s reward ii. | yan! criston cole

yandere / obsessed ! au

fem! targaryen princess! reader

part i

synopsis. suffering an injury from a tournament, criston has to deal with seeing you alongside his temporary replacement. fortunately, you weren’t interested in teasing too much this time, trying to distract yourself from your sister beginning her labors, and you were happy to cheer your poor mutt up.

note; I’ve decided to make this a series with no real plot lol 😭 if being attracted to criston cole is a crime then lock me up !! this chapter took a mind of its own bc this was not the original plot and it’s twice as long as part i

WARNING(s): obsessive / possessive behavior, manipulation, violence, thoughts of violence, implied murder, blood, injury, JEALOUSY, nosebleeds, talk of bastards and having bastard children, Rhaenyra gives birth, allusions to sex but no actual smut, cole def has a breeding kink y’all

Ser Criston Cole, your ever-so-loyal shield, always said yes when you asked him to enter tourneys. He knew how much you enjoyed them, and relished in your attention as he succeeded in competition. There were only two real downsides to tournaments for him: the hours he had to spend apart from you, and the injuries. Criston had always excelled at anything physical, but he was only mortal. He was just a man who could be maimed or murdered just like any other. It served to remind him of the status gap between you: he was a man while you were born from dragons.

He kept his eyes on your form in the nobles’ box until it was his turn. This was typical behavior from him, he was nothing but devoted to you. Since you’d discovered his true feelings, you gave him more attention than before. You entertained his tendencies, teasing him sometimes but always reassuring him at the end of the day. You wanted no one but him.

“Oh, don’t fret, my Criston.” You’d tut, “I could never replace you. You’re the only guard dog for me.”

You played with his feelings occasionally, trying to get a rise out of him, but he quickly found that he didn’t mind. His reward at the end made all his anger worth it. He never blamed you either, it was never your fault that men didn’t know how to leave you alone.

He wondered now if this was one of your attempts at making him jealous.

The large man who stood obediently behind you was the one taking over Criston’s position as he competed in the tournament. Usually, another Kingsguard member would take over, but this particular Knight had something to prove. He was highborn, from some house in the Vale, with wide shoulders and a somewhat handsome face. The two men looked nothing alike; the Knight next to you was pale, hazel-eyed, and thin-haired.

He doubted it.

You didn’t like men other than Criston Cole guarding you, you’d expressed so before. They’re boring and untrustworthy, you insisted. Your words made his chest puff out with pride. He liked that he was the only one you truly trusted with your life; you knew he would protect you. You chose him to protect you.

To be honest, you didn’t even seem interested in the Knight from the Vale; you looked stiff and bored, which concerned your sworn shield. You loved tournaments, you loved when he won things in your honor. Why don’t you look excited?

Soon enough, it was his turn again. With your flowery red favor around his wrist, he got into position.

You perked up a bit when you saw that it was Criston’s turn once more. You’d been rather stiff most of the event, and you partially blamed it on your boring temporary guard. The man was flat; no personality to work with at all. It bummed you out honestly, he was from the Vale but behaved like a Northman. He was presumably around Ser Criston’s age, but had not even half of his spirit. It wouldn’t have bothered you so much if you couldn’t feel his stare burning into the back of your head. You could give him some credit; at least he’s taking his job of supervising you seriously.

But no, the primary reason for your irritation and lack of focus was your father. He had demanded you to attend this tourney to celebrate Rhaenyra’s labors, not allowing you to be by her side. You and your sister were close, very close, and quite similar as well. To not be by her side when she was in pain had you tense. You didn’t want to be here, not even to see Criston compete.

Criston Cole was facing a member of House Bolton, a rather fierce young man who didn’t scare easy. Most Northerners were like that, but Criston should know best as he just beat another one last round. The tournament today was celebrating Princess Rhaenyra beginning her labors, so competitors have traveled from far and wide. The event had been planned for a month, so it was good news that the Princess was finally giving birth.

“Jessil,” you called to your guard with a smirk, “You should watch closely this round, my shield is competing.”

The man nodded curtly without a word, causing you to roll your eyes. His under-reactions irked you, but you were starting to blame Criston Cole for that fact. He always reacted wonderfully to anything you did, perhaps you were too used to it.

Speaking of your shield, you could see his anger growing the longer you were with another man. It was the only thing keeping you here at this point; waiting to see if he’ll get violent. Criston was the most amusing man you’d ever met, you just knew something was going to happen. There were only two more rounds until the event ended, and he’d been stiff ever since Ser Jessil bent down closer in order to hear your comments about two hours ago.

The two knights settled into their positions across the courtyard from each other, on opposite sides of the tilt. Then, a horn sounded, triggering their horses into a sprint. With their lances aimed, the men collided, wooden splinters flying but neither of them falling. New lances were readily tossed to them and the process repeated. Criston spared you a glance, noticing that Jessil had gotten a few inches closer.

Again, they charged forward. Only this time, when they clashed, Criston was thrown from his horse at the force of the hit. The Bolton fared a bit better, remaining on his horse, but he was hit in the face by Criston’s lance, causing the front of his helmet to cave in just enough to cut him.

What you saw made you shoot to your feet, your hands gripping the railing in concern. Never in your years of knowing Criston Cole had you ever seen him knocked from his horse in a tournament. He was easily one of the best fighters you knew of, it seemed impossible that this could happen. Had you pushed too far with your teasing? You’d never tried anything during a tournament before, perhaps Ser Jessil’s presence threw him off.

The round didn’t end there. Criston was quick to stand despite his obvious injuries, and his morningstar was swiftly given to him. His helmet had flew from his head when he fell, so his bleeding mouth was for all to see. He was holding his right arm close to his body, making it appear broken or incapable of proper use. Although he was right-handed, he gripped his weapon in his left hand and prepared for a fight. The Bolton Knight was also without a helmet at this point, ditching the damaged armor when he jumped to the ground to grab his sword. His nose was bleeding and looked to be broken from the hit.

“Is his arm broken?” You asked aloud, leaning over the railing a bit in an attempt to see better, “he favors his right.”

Jessil ignored your words, but inched closer so you wouldn’t go over the railing, “Princess, you could fall.”

Criston let the other Knight come to him, not willing to waste any energy. He used his time to look your way, not liking the way your guard was holding your shoulder.

The fight began, but didn’t last long. The Bolton may have made a skilled jouster, but not a fighter. He was no match for the angry Kingsguard, even when he had every advantage. Handicapped from his injuries, Criston swung his Morningstar with his left hand, swiftly hitting his opponent in the head while avoiding any oncoming attacks from the sword. The impact knocked the younger Knight out, but visibly broke his brow bone. Due to the force from the spikes, his face was bleeding badly and the area around his eye was caved in, perfectly mirroring the damage to his helmet.

Half the crowd was silent in shock (including yourself), but the other half was cheering loudly at the violence. You were desensitized to such things at this point in your life, but that didn’t mean you welcomed them. You didn’t like that Criston came so close to losing, or that you have to watch some poor Bolton boy bleed out on the ground for no reason, your shield was too injured to continue to the next round anyways. And due to your being a princess, it would be inappropriate to leave early to check on the Kingsguard member. Because your father wouldn’t allow to be with your sister, you’d made Criston your fixation of the day.

The two of you made eye contact as a few servants rushed over to him, helping him limp off to see a maester. It was soon announced that although neither competitor was continuing to the next round, Criston Cole was technically the winner.

“Well that was certainly a show” You cleared your throat, shaking Ser Jessil’s hand off your shoulder and finally taking your seat once again, “I knew something was going to happen.”

“So you did, Princess.” The Knight nodded curtly, recalling your words earlier, telling him to watch closely.

With Criston gone, your mind shifted back to a pregnant Rhaenyra, who was currently giving birth without your comfort. You stiffen up, nails digging into the railing before exhaling deeply and taking your seat. The two of you return to your proper positions and continued to observe the event for the next few hours, clapping dutifully when an insignificant Lannister won.

You made it back to the Red Keep in record time, it seemed. Even Jessil had trouble keeping up with you on your horse as you rushed home. You’d refused the carriage ride, eager to see your sister.

You were sprinting up the nearly infinite steps to her chambers, Jessil following close and maids jumping out of the way. A couple of people tried to stop your entrance, but you only shoved them aside and pushed your way towards your sister.

“Rhaenyra!” You gasped softly, a grin finding its way to your face when you saw her cradling her new baby in bed. After the death of your mother, childbirth was a sensitive subject for you and your sister, you hated being apart during this time. She dismissed the women in the room, leaving just the two of you and her first child.

“I’ve decided on Jacaerys.” She smiled at you as you crawled into the bed beside her.

She’d discussed baby name ideas with you before, with Laenor as well, who suggested Joffrey. Rhaenyra was adamantly against it, and you remembered the distaste you felt hearing it, knowing the implications that would come along if they decided on that name. You’d always liked Joffrey actually, unhappy with his death, but almost all of court heard the rumors of he and Laenor. You’d suggested Jacaerys, a Velaryon sounding name. Rhaenyra didn’t seem overly interested, so you didn’t expect her to choose it.

“Oh, Jacaerys.” You cooed, stroking his little head, full of dark locks. That wasn’t good, not really. Hopefully he took after Rhaenyra in his other features, or else questions of his parentage could arise. Rhaenys was half Baratheon, so that could be used as an excuse. But then the baby boy opened his eyes, revealing big brown orbs that mirrored Harwin Strong’s. You liked Harwin quite a bit, not minding. But the court would mind. You and Rhaenyra would just have to protect him.

“Have you slept yet?” You asked your sister, who hasn’t stopped grinning since you first saw her.

“Not yet, dear sister, I cannot stop looking at his sweet face.”

“Has… his father seen him yet?” You both knew who you meant.

“No. But he will soon enough, when I’m well enough to leave the room.” She gave you a knowing smile, which you returned.

Upon leaving Rhaenyra to rest, you were able to successfully escape Ser Jessil’s supervision with the help of Ser Harwin Strong, and went straight to Criston Cole’s chambers. You found out through your favorite handmaiden that he’d been released from the infirmary, and you took the first opportunity that presented itself to you. You didn’t knock before slipping into his room, but you were sure he wouldn’t mind.

Stepping in, your eyes were drawn to his place on the bed immediately. He was lying down above the blankets, with his arm wrapped and splinted in a sling resting above his bare midsection. His ribs were bruised, but it was apparently nothing bad enough that would need wrapping. Both legs were extended out, with his left pant leg pulled up to the knee to reveal his bruised ankle. He didn’t notice you enter, his eyes were shut and he was likely half-asleep. His face was fine, handsome as always, besides a cut on his nose-bridge that was beginning to darken into a bruise.

“Look at you, my poor sweet thing.” You cooed quietly at him suddenly, waking him from his relaxed state. His eyes shot open, head snapping over to the door.

“My princess.” He gasped. His chambers were much smaller and less impressive than yours, he didn’t want you in such an environment.

“Are you well?” You asked, closing the door as quietly as possible, “The maester says you’ve broken bones.”

“I’m well, I swear it to you. It’s a small break in the arm, everything should heal rather quickly.” He tried to reassure you as you approached, struggling his way into a sitting position, his back against the head board.

You hummed at his clumsy movements, stopping to stand at his bedside. Cute. Criston wasn’t an inherently violent man, at least not with you, so it was easy to forget how strong and dangerous he truly was. It was unnerving to see him injured; weak.

“How quickly would you say?” You asked.

“The maester says a month.” He answered quietly, not willing to admit the extent of his injuries. His primary goal was to get back to you.

You knew the Maester had actually said two months.

“Hm. Who will protect me for a whole month in your absence?” You held back a smirk.

You watched as Criston’s body language immediately changed. Clenching and unclenching his jaw, his leg twitched in frustration.

“I am still fully capable.”

Has he always been this attractive or does jealousy just look good on him?

“My father thinks you should take time to heal.”

He scoffed, shaking his head, “I don’t care what he thinks, you saw what I did to my opponent despite my injuries.”

“You ‘don’t care what he thinks’? He is King.” You said in a mock-scolding tone, lifting your knee to rest in against the bed, close to his lap.

“Yours is the only word to mean anything to me. I listen to no King.” Still seated, he leans forward to get closer.

“Though you listen to me? Only me?” You ask with a smile, batting your lashes at him and leaning in. He doesn’t move to kiss you first, he rarely does. He lets you do as you please, feeling the puffs of air from your giggle on his lips.

“Yes. Only you.” He whispers, his eyes begging you to just kiss him already. But nothing is ever that simple with you, and he knows it well.

You grin at him, leaning in until your lips are just grazing his own, before laughing and pulling away entirely. His face followed yours until you were out of reach, leaving him to huff and fall back against the head board once again. He let out a quiet groan, closing his eyes and tossing his head back so he could catch his breath.

“You’re so easy, Ser Criston.” You snickered. His lips quirked up at your joyous tone, but he resisted the urge to open his eyes. After a few moments of stumbling around the room in amusement, you bit your lip to keep quiet.

Criston went stiff when you fell silent, excited fingers beginning to twitch as the urge to touch you increased. But he was a seasoned warrior at this point in life, and could hear every movement you made. He heard you tiptoe back over to the bed before pausing. The mattress dipped as you climbed onto the bed and landed in his lap, straddling his thighs and avoiding his bruised ribs. It was only when you were on top of him that his eyelids fluttered open to watch you. You gave him a satisfied look. He was happy to let you believe you caught him off-guard.

“Criston?”

“Yes, my Heart?”

“There’s something I have to tell you…” You placed your hands gently on his chest and leaned in, your mouth next to his ear, “and you will not like it.”

“You think me incapable of handling such news?” He asked, a bit breathless.

You smiled, “Of course not. You’re my protector, my strong and most loyal servant. You can handle anything I give you, yes?”

He nodded, unable to speak properly with your lips on his ear.

“My father says that Ser Jessil will be your stand-in as my protector.”

Criston’s good hand immediately moved to your waist, gripping it tightly, “You don’t need anyone else to protect you. Only me.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” You kissed his jaw gently, “but you should heal and rest.”

“I will kill him. Do not doubt me.”

“He would just be replaced.”

“I don’t care, I should kill the next as well.”

“You go against my word?” You pulled back, sitting up fully. He hesitated in his response, so you continued, “Ser Jessil will be your temporary replacement, my King father has said this and I have agreed.”

It was a lie, technically; you didn’t exactly agree to anything. But you weren’t about to let Criston believe he had the power here. He’d started to get a bit too bold.

Your faces were close together now, the two of you holding heavy eye contact. Criston said nothing, though his body language revealed his true feelings easily. He didn’t like that you were taking your father’s side over his own.

“I love you.” He blurted out, brows furrowed in emotion.

Your hands moved up to hold his face, “I know that. I just want you well. You must rest and heal so you can be at your best. Don’t you understand?”

Criston nodded slowly, a satisfied shiver running through him at the thought of you caring so much. His health is truly that important to you?

“Good.” You say with a grin, pecking the corner of his lips and reaching up to pat his messy hair down. His long locks grew wild already, but the style worsened from hours of wearing a helmet.

Giving into you, per usual, the Knight sighed and wrapped his good arm fully around your waist, pulling you close so he could tuck his face into your neck. You cooed at him, returning his embrace and giggling in between your praises.

“I know that this upsets you quite a bit,” You began, gasping in surprise when you felt a warm tongue trail over your throat, “but I don’t mind making you feel better.”

“Feel better you say?” He questioned absentmindedly, more focused on the taste of your skin.

You hummed in confirmation, “I can take care of you in places you may need help with. You know….. here?”

Eyes closed, you placed a delicate touch to the bulge in his pants, smiling when you felt him stiffen beneath you.

Criston Cole was always half-hard around you, your presence alone able to rile him up. He often found himself having to control his thoughts when around other people, not wanting them to notice his… state. As much as he wanted to touch you all over— taste you and love you and worship you— he held a higher respect for you than himself. You were not just a Lady, you were a Princess. He would not dishonor you in such a way, at least not until the two of you were married.

“Princess—” he grunted, mouth dropping open in pleasure briefly before pursing his lips. He pulled his upper body away from you slightly, giving you a bit more space to do what you wanted.

“Oh, it’s fine, Ser Criston. I want to.” You reassured, shrugging because you knew he would end up letting you anyways, “You just look so good bruised up like this, all jealous over some loser, nobody Knight.”

You whispered the last sentence harshly, and Criston loved it. He loved when you degraded other men in comparison to him. He was who you wanted, not that loser, nobody Knight. It didn’t matter that he was low-born or sick in the head, you wanted him anyway.

“You prefer me?” He asked looking up at you, “to him? Tell me...”

“I prefer you to him, Ser Criston Cole. I prefer you to all other men.”

Pulling him by his hair, your lips captured his. Whimpering into your mouth, he now does nothing to stop you from reaching your goal. You smile into the kiss at his surrender.

“… but perhaps you’re right.” You pull away from his lips, but stay close enough to tease, “it would be so dishonorable and you’re injured as well. Hm.”

Criston, his mind in shambles, doesn’t say a word, just sucks his teeth and releases a shaky breath. He doesn’t like to argue with you, he won’t. He’s overwhelmed, you’re so close.

“Can’t think.” He muttered so quietly you almost missed it.

A breathy laugh escaped you before you could stop it, “No? And why is that, Ser? Do I possess you so?”

“Possess? Princess, you are torturing me with your affections. I cannot think of anything else, I cannot focus, I cannot stop shaking.” His voice cracked at the last word and he wasn’t lying, his body trembled.

“Do I dominate your dreams as well?”

“Yes.”

You hum, curious. You knew of his fantasies; his plans to run away, marry, and have many children with you. But you never question the details, allowing them to stay fuzzy so he wouldn’t get too ahead with his scheming. Dreams, however, you could create your own world. “Won’t you share them with me?”

“We ah-” he pauses to take a deep breath, likely attempting to control himself, “You call me by name a lot.”

You tilt your head, a bit confused.

“Not Ser, not dog, not thing— just Criston. The sound of my name from your lips is like music to me. It makes me— I never want you to say another’s name ever again. And uh- a daughter. We have a daughter. She looks like you- so much.”

You begin to shift at his words. A daughter? No Westerosi man wishes for a daughter, at least not before a son, “Daughter you say? Why?”

“She will be you, reborn, carrying my blood. I dream of a baby girl that smiles like you. I will call her my little princess as you are my Princess. A child that is ours.”

“A daughter.” You repeated once more. It was… nice to hear a man express desire for a daughter rather than a son. You and Rhaenyra had suffered due to that mindset, spending most of your lives watching your father desperately try for a son, even at the cost of your mother’s life. He no longer felt that way, but it was too late, the damage had been done. He now had Aegon and Aemond, who he didn’t even pay much attention to. Your mother’s life felt wasted.

“Princess—?”

“A sweet thing it is.” You cut him off, “your dreams are endearing. But I must go now, Jessil has no doubt noticed my absence.”

Criston tensed, “Ab—sence” He croaked, jealousy building.

“Mmhm.” I nodded, “I’ve avoided him thus far, impressively. He may report this to my father if I’m gone any longer.”

Just a few minutes more, his mind screams. But he’s good for you, so he only nods. His jaw is clenched and there’s a noticeable twitch in his expression. His fingertips dig into your sides.

“I don’t want to part with you for so long.”

“Perhaps I’ll visit if you behave.”

“He’s clearly a bastard.” Criston spoke quietly, but plainly.

You’d snuck him into your chambers after a long day of cooing over Rhaenyra’s baby boy, Jacaerys. It’d been a couple weeks since his birth and she finally brought him to court for all to see.

“It is treason to suggest such a thing, Ser Cole.” You bitterly defended your sister as you brushed your fair, before rolling your eyes, “And even if it were true, what does it matter who the boy’s father is? He is Rhaenyra’s true son and her heir. The boy is a Targaryen.”

At the risk of upsetting you further, he held his tongue. Being rather low born, Criston grew up having to prove himself through his ability rather than his status. But when he was young, at the end of the day, he was still a rank above bastard children. He had that, at least. He knew that it wasn’t exactly fair, you can’t control who your parents are, but it was a mindset he was raised with and couldn’t shake so easily.

“What if my father marries me off to some Lord I do not love? Are you saying you wouldn’t fuck little bastard babies into me? Babes that look just like you?” You ask him, standing up from your vanity to approach his spot on your bed, feigning innocence.

Face twitching in annoyance, Criston grabbed your wrist and roughly pulled you to his level. With your faces were inches apart, he reached up and gripped your chin. The action made you bite your lip to hide a grin.

“I will be fucking little trueborn babies into you. I’ll make you my wife before giving you children.” He took slight offense to your words. How could you suggest that? You should know he would not let you be married off.

“Oh, of course, My White Knight. You plan to steal me away.”

“Hardly stealing.” He muttered, lovesick eyes staring into yours.

You don’t voice your disagreements, you only laugh. You did not belong to Criston Cole, you belong only to yourself. His words make you think that this game had gone a little too far; he’s getting too confident in his possessiveness. His hesitancy was one of his initial charms for you, and it’s leaving him. Perhaps it’s best to stop entertaining his ideas of a future with you, no matter how cute and pleasant you believe them to be.

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t like it, even just a little?” You tilted your head, his hand still holding your chin softly.

“No.” That’s a lie, maybe just a small amount. Everyone knowing you belong to him, having his kids, despite your status. But the negatives massively outweigh the positives. Not only would it put so much dishonor on you, but Criston isn’t good at controlling his jealousy. He wouldn’t be able to handle you being married to another or his children not having his name.

You smiled knowingly, teasing, “I don’t believe you.”

He released his grasp on your chin, letting you fall closer into him, “I could never be fond of an idea where you are not mine.”

“Well I would be, only secretly.” You pointed out.

“I want you to be mine openly, in every way. By name.”

You knew that wasn’t possible, not even across the sea. But you didn’t want to burst the bubble he’d been constructing for the last year. You let it go. A short silence takes over, not an uncomfortable one, but not the kind you particularly liked. The two of you had extremely different thinking processes, and it was something only amplified when you discussed your ideas for the future. Luckily, your partner was delusional enough that he didn’t notice your discontent with running away.

“Criston?” You ask, letting yourself fall to lie flat beside him. He lets go of your wrist and his eyes follow your moments, as usual. He lies back on the bed as well.

“Yes, my Princess?”

“Why do you desire me the way you do?”

He looked slightly surprised at the question, like he’d never expected you would ask. The truth is, he hadn’t. It wasn’t like you to care why. You were quick to accept things for what they were.

“You’re special to me.” He eventually whispered, “I was made to love you.”

“Made?”

“The gods constructed me only for the purpose of worshipping you. You have bewitched me with no effort. I do not know whether to kiss the ground you walk on or fall to my knees and beg for your continued attention.”

You stare into his big, dark eyes silently. He’s loyal, like a dog. And he’s hopeless like one too. “You’re not exactly a poet, but I suppose that will do.”

He grins, and you can practically feel his heart racing, “Not a poet, no.”

You tear your eyes away from him to glare at the ceiling. “Do not call my nephew a bastard again.”

He tensed at your words, entirely disliking that he’d upset you, and nodded immediately. He was embarrassed, “Yes, my love, I’m sorry.”

You sighed and looked back at him, sitting up once more. “I think you’ll find him charming. Rhaenyra says he reminds her of me already.”

“Well I’m sure to be charmed in that case, aren’t I?”

“Oh, yes, since you’re more than quite charmed by me.”

“Charmed,” He smiled, pupils expanding as he began to fantasize, “I hope to be charmed by our own children one day.”

“Our own?” You entertained, “How many? Including this daughter of ours of course.”

“Five perhaps. More if you’d like.” He took a piece of your hair between his fingers to play with.

“Is that what our lives would look like if you had it your way?”

“If I had it my way,” His eyes shifted back to your own, darkening, “by now you’d be chasing around our first two children as your stomach swelled with our third. You’d be called Lady Cole.”

“Ah, yes. Lady Cole with her many Cole babes.”

Criston had to take a deep breath at that, practically vibrating at the mere thought of you carrying his children and living as his wife.

You giggle at his visible reaction, leaning down to claim his lips. He sighed into the kiss, hesitant hands reaching for your hair. He tugs, trying to urge you closer, onto his lap, “My princess, please.”

“He begs, ‘Please please please’. You are the wantingest man I’ve ever met.” You grin into the kiss, allowing him to take you into his lap.

“I will never have shame in begging you. My life belongs to you, I am yours.” His words are beginning to slur slightly, “It’s only natural for me to be greedy when you are the one who claims my heart.”

“Always trying to impress me with your words,” You playfully roll your eyes, “you’re nearly healed, you know. Ready to return to my side?” It was a lie, he had good a bit left of healing to do.

“I never should have left.” He squirmed, trying not to show his anger. He never left, not willingly. He was removed.

“Of course, of course.” You tugged on the dark hair at the back of his neck, “The man who’s been with me is utterly serious. Neither I nor Rhaenyra like him.”

Criston listened to your complain about your temporary shield with a sense of pride and giddiness. He was relieved you disliked his replacement. But the mention of your sister disliking him as well did nothing for him, as the princess Rhaenyra didn’t like most men surrounding you, Criston himself included. She never vocalized it much, but he noticed when she tensed and sneered when he got too close to you. He wondered if she knew about your relationship.

“I’m more your taste, Princess?”

A grin found its way to your face and you nodded, “That’s right, I can do whatever I please to you and you only bask in my attention.”

He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, argue with that. While he had his own boundaries of sorts, they were completely disregarded in your presence and he didn’t even mind it.

To prove your point, you began to kiss his jaw, sweet and gentle kisses. Criston hummed, closing his eyes and tilting his head back only slightly. You nipped at the delicate skin, comfortable with leaving just a few marks because he was still out of action; not many people would be seeing him anyways.

“G-gods-” he choked out.

“The gods cannot save you, I’m afraid.” You giggle.

“I beg them not to.”

You giggle at his dazed voice and expression, blowing cool air on his neck and enjoying his shiver. His hands keep twitching. Just to tease, you kept your face tucked into him, kitten licking at the skin until you felt something wet hit your cheek. Pulling away slightly, you quickly identified the source of the warm liquid; blood was dripping from Criston’s nose, falling over his lips down to his chin.

“S-sorry, your grace. I’m overwhelmed is all.” He muttered, hand immediately going up to face to stop the dripping. But you only pull his hand away with a smirk.

“You know,” you begin, thumbing some of the blood and smearing it over his lips, “in the way of Old Valyria, we share blood when we marry.”

“Please, please,” he croaks, big dark eyes boring desperately into your own. They’re shiny and lack any coherent thoughts, “Don’t say such things to me now— can’t control myself.”

“We use dragon glass to cut one another’s lip,” you take your bloodied thumb and swipe red onto your bottom lip, “then we kiss to show we are of the same blood now.”

His leg begins to bounce and he has to look away from your face. His nose continues to drip blood, but neither of you move to stop it this time.

“You like that idea~ i can tell because you’re shaking.” You giggle into his ear.

“M’not shaking-” he replies, but even his voice trembles.

“Well you’re bleeding, is that not a sign?” You tilt your head, “perhaps you’re unwell, should I stop?”

Before he can beg you not to stop, his sharp ears catch the sound of clicking armor in the hall. He tenses, almost forgetting he was in the Princess’ chambers; he doesn’t know how when yours was easily three-times the size of his own. There was no need to panic and hide, people were not permitted to just walk in.

Three hard knocks sounded throughout the room, causing Criston to freeze. Your expression didn’t change, as you’d heard the footsteps.

“Who is it? Do not enter please.” You answered, your eyes not leaving your knight’s. As nervous as he was, Criston maintained eye contact and didn’t move a muscle. With a small grin, your hand traveled back up to his chin, which was now smeared with blood. As your fingers traced his features, you leaned in close to his ear to place a few gentle kisses there.

“Princess, it’s Ser Jessil. Your sister, the Princess Rhaenyra, has sent for you. She is… perhaps you should open the door to let me explain. It concerns your safety.”

Your reactions vary; Criston’s posture is still stiff and he’s growing annoyed at the knight’s presence. It’s almost offensive how this pathetic creature is trying to protect you when that’s his job. But you’re worried, though you won’t show it. Rhaenyra? Is something wrong? But something about it didn’t make sense; if your safety was threatened, then why did Rhaenyra know first and why did Jessil bother knocking at all?

“I’d prefer you explain from where you are.”

You could hear his sigh through the door, an impressive feat, “She is suspicious that a knight of the king is sneaking into your chambers.”

Probably because it was true, you thought, glancing at a stiff and unhappy Criston.

“Let me ready myself and I will speak with her at once.” As you began to shift off of your shield, but he only pouted and desperately hung on. He had the mind to keep quiet, but his heart wouldn’t allow you to leave him.

“… Yes, Princess.”

You turned to him sternly, “Let go, Criston. Don’t be foolish, just hide for now and be gone when we leave.” You quietly scolded and his grip loosened.

He clenches his jaw, the most common hint to his annoyance, and said nothing. He allowed you to pull him up by the hand and drag him over to your wardrobe, shutting him in with a last apologetic kiss.

“Be good.” You uttered, and his gaze softened for a moment before the door shut in his face.

He could hear you shuffle around, dressing quickly to see your sister. He sucked his teeth angry. Did he deserve mistreatment? To an extent, yes, he could admit that. But this wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t you just— stay? Tell him to kill that bothersome knight and be done with him entirely. His fists clenched. He’d kill him— and soon. Right now even. Then he’d take you away and give you a nice little home with sweet little silver-haired babies. Criston was growing sick of waiting, it was eating him up inside. You affected him so severely, it was showing itself physically. He brought a hand up to the crimson liquid that had finally stopped leaking from his nose.

You were gone now— he knew this because he could feel when you were near. But someone was in your chambers, someone closer to his size. He could hear the metal clanking of heavy armor. The person was looking for something, an intruder most likely. But Criston was not the intruder here. The idea of someone who wasn’t him being in your space made him burn with anger. That was fine, he decided, he’d handle it. With balled up fists, he stepped out from the wardrobe.

“Has Ser Jessil been good to you, little sister?”

You shrugged at Rhaenyra, your chin resting in your hand as you leaned on the table. It wasn’t polite, but you were comfortable in her presence, “He’s fine, I suppose.”

“But you prefer that dog of yours.” Your sister teased. You could tell she didn’t like that— didn’t like Criston. You understood.

“He’s good, listens well.”

“Not for long— I can see it well. He’s a sick thing, sister.”

“I can handle him, he does as I ask.”

“He’s greedy, an oath breaker.”

You hummed in agreement, “He has pretty eyes.”

Rhaenyra scoffed with a grin at your reply, “He will try to steal you away. Not just that, but he’s also obvious. Painfully so. If I know, someone else does too. He needs to be put out. Be rid of him.”

“I… understand that he’s got troublesome feelings. But he’s become something of a pet to me now.” You pouted and your sister sighed, not fond of upsetting you.

“When I ascend the throne, he will be gone. I worry he’ll be your downfall.” She wasn’t being dramatic, she’d disliked the man for years and saw every bit of concerning behavior he displayed. She saw clearly his desperation to leave with you. When it comes time for you to marry, he’ll go mad.

You knew whatever you had with Criston wasn’t permanent, but to hear your elder sister give away her intentions of getting rid of him really struck you. “He’s brainless, Rhaenyra. Just a dog, truly. He can hardly read. He’s only a threat physically, and he would never hurt me.”

Rhaenyra sighed, wrinkling her nose in distaste for the man. She used to be like you, still was sometimes, but she would protect you from her mistakes. She would not allow any whispers at court of you being a whore and your children being bastards, not like her. Since the birth of Jacaerys, she’d grown just a bit more serious, and much more protective.

“You needn’t be literate to kill a man.” She replied after a brief silence.

You held back a huff. The truth was that Criston could read fine these days, though not nearly at the level you could. You’d only said that to give the illusion of harmlessness. Unfortunately, Rhaenyra would never buy it; she had seen the knights he’d bloodied during tournaments.

“I’ll be harder on him then, perhaps add a bit of distance. But, sister, he is important. As a member of the Kingsguard, his support and loyalty will aid your claim. One more soldier on our side— a good one.”

“I will not sacrifice you for my cause.”

“I’ve told you, he will not harm me—”

“It’s more complex than that—!”

It felt like you were 13 and 14 again, bickering over something that was caused by your sisters protectiveness.

No, you will not be coming with me. You will sleep in your bed and I will wake you myself come morning!

If that stable boy looks at you that way again, I will have father or Uncle Daemon take his eyes— probably Daemon.

No, sister. You are mad if you think I’m letting you anywhere near a wild dragon—!

You sometimes think that Criston and Rhaenyra hate one another because they are a bit similar.

“Nyra,” you groaned, head in hands, “I will fix it, you’re right, he has become a bit… extreme lately. But you must admit he’d be beneficial to our cause.”

Although Rhaenyra was legally the heir to the throne, there were already whispers of putting Alicent’s son, Aegon, on the throne in her place. Criston wasn’t very powerful politically, but he was a brilliant fighter and his words as a Kingsguard held just a bit of sway.

She furrowed her brows, “You’re too fond of him.”

You shrugged, standing up, “Perhaps. But I’m no fool; you come first. I will never flee with him.”

“And when he realizes that?”

You didn’t have an answer. You passed Harwin Strong on your way out, and bit your tongue to stop myself from calling out the hypocrisy.

What was the difference between her and Harwin vs you and Criston?

Well for starters, Harwin didn’t murder any man who entered Rhaenyra’s vicinity. Criston on the other hand…

By the time you returned to your chambers, the entire stone floor was red, the liquid seeping into your intricate carpet you’d had since you were a child. There was no body, suggesting that Criston had already gotten rid of it or the victim managed to escape. (But that was unlikely, Criston was a beast in a fight, and his temper was unmatched.)

“Princess.” Criston croaked from behind you, in the open doorway. He’d just arrived, and it took only one glance at him to know what he’d done. Blood covered his hands, arms, and chest. It was splattered from his face all the way down to his knees. He was in his civilian clothes still, rather than any armor due to being put on leave. His eyes were shiny, some sense of desperation in them, and he was fiddling with his red hands. Nervous. Why were you back so early? The sling for his arm was gone, though he surely still needed it.

“Is—” You cleared your throat. “Is he alive?”

But judging by the brain matter on the ground, you knew the answer was—

“No.” Direct and honest. He took a few steps forward, shutting the door behind him. You weren’t scared of him necessarily— you knew well enough at this point that he’d never hurt you. But he didn’t look quite human at the moment, so you took a step back.

Your simple shuffle backwards was enough to send him into a panic.

He dropped to his knees, blood soaking into his breeches as he inched closer, “My love— he was threat! He would’ve found me in here—” He babbled on about protecting you, begging for you not to be afraid. You let him talk, focused on the blood.

“Clean this up.” You finally muttered, patting him quickly on the head to avoid soaking yourself with the crimson liquid.

As much as a part of you wanted to coo at him ‘good dog’, you couldn’t. This was messy— emotional and obvious. Risky. He was a bad dog, a stupid one even. He wasn’t like Harwin— manageable. He was something else entirely. You liked him how he was, violently loyal and protective, but you couldn’t have it.

He quickly agreed to clean it and began to calm down, which led him to notice your own unease. He flinched when he saw how much blood seeped into your shoes and skirt, pulling you into his arms and placing you on your favorite stool.

He was cooing at you, “Sweet Princess, don’t worry about this, yes? I’ll rid you completely of this man, I swear it. I allowed his blood to soil your clothes, I’m sorry.”

Criston kissed at your collar bones down your arms to your palms.

“Criston,” his eyes shot up to meet yours. Big brown heart eyes. “No more of this, not in this castle.”

His hands tightened slightly around your wrists, “But you like it.” He muttered.

“It isn’t about that—!” You held your tongue, deciding to take a smarter approach, “My sweet Criston, the people in the Keep will soon notice a pattern, I cannot let that happen. My sister needs nothing in her way of that crown.”

He nearly scoffed, “Is it always about your sister and her crown? I have protected you again! From-from these perverts who wish to—”

“You’re the pervert-!”

“You love me! You love it! How you affect me— how you can physically see every thought that goes through my head about you! You love how perverted I am for only you! I see you— I love every part of you, even the part that gets off on a Kingsguard soiling his cloak for you!” Criston was shaking, “I am sick, and you cannot get enough! Just as I will never tire of you— I need you!”

There was silence, besides his heavy breathing. You didn’t expect such self-awareness, and you didn’t like it. You liked him better dumb, but it appeared he never was fully clueless. His brown eyes were wide and a shade darker than usual.

“Sit.” You commanded and he did, “Just clean this up.”

[taglist] @3abydolll @pearlstiare @caramelcandescence @eilishchaos @watercolorskyy

The Rhaenyra/Criston beef is gonna go crazy in the prequel

im hoping you guys noticed, but this chapter was meant to emphasize the lack of control the reader truly has on criston. like yeah, he worships you and is willing to do almost anything you say, but his urges control him more than anything else ever will. this is going to be a common theme in the future. i also wanted this chapter to show more daily life and readers relationship with rhaenyra compared to part i.

#dark! hotd #yandere hotd #hotd x reader #got x reader #yandere got #yandere criston cole #yandere asoiaf #criston cole #criston cole x reader #obsessive criston cole #dark criston cole #ser criston #targaryen reader

2K notes · View notes

ohimsummer · 11 months

Text

...I CAN DO BETTER

— minors dni, jealous! satoru x virgin! reader, both of them came in their pants lol, dryhumping, consensual recording/photography, teasing because it's satoru gojo, degradation (use of slut), nipple play, biting/hickeys

sequel to “anything you can do…”

If there is one thing a Satoru Gojo will not allow, it is to be one-upped by Suguru, no matter what it was.

He had too much pride. It was so easy for Geto to bait him into a competition because Gojo would do anything if it meant being declared the winner. Shoko would warn him that his pride would be his downfall, and would land him in quite the unfavorable predicament if he kept it up. Judging from where he was now though, Satoru would beg to differ.

His smirk grows wider at your longing whine, pressing his bulge harder against the growing wet patch of your panties. He smoothes a hand over your bare thigh, pinches you out the blue and can’t help but giggle when you flinch and yelp. The camera app open on his phone, Gojo twists and turns the device to get the best angle of little ol’ you.

Satoru was, of course, quite unhappy at the dark spot on your neck. Because who did Suguru think he was marking you as if you belonged to him? And you, how dare you give Geto the privilege of seeing you so pathetic and desperate first? And, even worse, cumming on his thigh? Appalling. Sickening, even. Satoru’s headache got worse every time Suguru rubbed it in his face.

“She was so cute.”, he brags in a soft, nonchalant voice, dripping with delight. “Should’ve been there, Satoru, she came all over me.”

And Satoru doesn’t know that your display wasn’t as thrilling as Geto makes it out to be. You only came on his leg, fully clothed, but Geto can tell by the protruding veins along his friend’s forehead that Gojo assumes you were bent over the dresser and fucked silly. Unfortunately false, but where’s the fun in correcting him on that?

“S- Satoru–,” you whimper, fabric of your skirt bunched around your waist and between your fingers.” Please, please…”

Gojo steadily grinds into your core, and you think you might just fucking die. The firm tip of his dick rubs into your throbbing clit so nicely, though barely satiating the dull ache in your pussy. You clench around nothing, drunk and tense and so lost in such a simple pleasure as you messily rock your hips to meet his thrusts.

“So needy, sweetheart.” His mockery is relentless. “Actin’ like such a little slut. You always this desperate for some dick, baby, or is it just mine?”

The minute your head falls to one side and breaks his gaze, suddenly your cheeks are smushed between fingers and Gojo forces you to look at him again. “Answer me.”

A meek whisper trickles from your mouth, lips littered in indentations where you’ve sank your teeth into them. “Just yours…”

He lowers the phone a little and holds his hand up to his ear, then leans closer, all this while still massaging his stiff cock against your swollen clit. “A little louder, baby, so Suguru will hear.”

Before you can register his words, Gojo gives you a particularly sharp thrust that mashes his tip against your clit so perfectly and you can’t help crying out for him. “J-just yours, Satoru–!”

His free hand runs beneath your shirt, up to your bare breasts underneath, and Satoru carelessly thumbs a nipple beneath his finger. “Aww, Suguru will be so disappointed.”

There’s not a chance to protest, instead he’s mindlessly driving himself into your cunt again, low grunts and broken moans leaving him. Gojo props his phone up on your nightstand and, now that his other hand is free, begins leaving his touch all over your body. He looms over your weak, shivering form, mercilessly humping against you and eager to swallow the saccharine whines that escape your lips. Your legs, on either side of his waist, clench around him and it feels like your body has a mind of its own as you so desperately grind back against him.

“S-Sato-“, he lands another kiss on your lips, interrupting your plea. “Satoru..!”

It’s the way you’re so desperate and needy and so fucking endearing, no wonder Suguru couldn’t keep his hands off you. Gojo had to end this quick, too much longer and he’d be ripping these flimsy, cotton panties off (and they’re just so cute with a little blue bow in the center that’s calling for him) and having his way with you until Suguru’s name was completely erased from your mind, all on another video to add to his now-growing collection. But, he wouldn’t, not yet anyway. Not that he doesn’t want to, but really just out of bitterness because fuck Suguru for having his way with you and fuck you for letting him.

Before Satoru finishes up, he litters your neck in love bites; they’re spread across your collar, up your jaw, and especially over the previous mark Geto made as a big ‘fuck you’ to that man. And shit, why not, on your chest too. Signs of his possession all over your pretty tits, and the sight almost has him immediately cumming in his pants.

He realizes too late that you’ve gone silent, and looks up to see your head thrown back and bottom lip tucked right between your teeth. Your trembling form is enough to push Satoru closer to his own high, though in the back of his mind he refuses to believe that you deserve such a luxury after being naughty with Suguru.

Your little droplets of cum squirt onto his pants, and your release triggers his own before he can relish in knowing he got you to squirt for him and Suguru didn’t. Gojo dumps a hot load into his boxers, which in turn soaks all the way to the front of his trousers. Chest heaving, Satoru grabs his phone, ends the video, and again holds the device above your writhing figure. In all the excitement, he almost forgot what he was doing all this for.

“Up here, sweetheart.,” he sings at you, and he’s satisfied when your lids flutter open to look at the lens.

Satoru snaps a few pictures of your fucked-out form. Some with your soaked, cumstained pussy just cropped out the bottom, some exposing the marks on your tits, and even one where he uses your skirt to hide his cock, which he’s laid over your cunt. He didn’t actually do what the picture implies, but Gojo thinks the look on Suguru’s face when he assumes he fucked you senseless will be worth it. You certainly look the part, gasping and sweaty and quivering all from him just humping your little clit.

“Don’t you look perfect.”, Satoru grins as he taps around some more on his phone, and your eyes widen when he shows you the screen. “You make such a cute wallpaper, babe!”

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut

2K notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 10 months

Text

A Swing and a Miss

Crazy golf with the boys

Landoscar x reader

I'm in such a landoscar//poly-fic mood rn (pls send me thoughts/requests/recs)

"I'm gonna kick your asses," Lando said to Y/N and Oscar as they approached the first hole.

F1 drivers were insanely competitive, both on and off the track. Y/N should have realised they were going to all be in competition together when she suggested crazy golf to blow off some steam.

It was a sunny day, a seaside town. The crazy golf place had way too many different themes, from animal safari to pirates cove and the Jurassic age. There were at least twenty five holes, all of them spiralling out away from a bar that sat in the middle. This was shaping up to be a fun day.

Oscar went first, since it was his rookie season. It had taken Y/N a hot minute to convince Lando to let him go first. The golfer was buzzing - Y/N had to wrap her arm around his waist to keep him there.

The first hole was in the animal safari part of the course. It was incredibly simple, with it being the first hole and all. There were no obstacles, just a couple of plastic lions to the side.

Oscar was no golfer. Lando watched in pain as he missed the hole again, and again, and again. It should have been an easy whole in one (at least for Lando).

"Oh, Osc," Y/N laughed at she wrote a five on the score card. "Baby, that was..."

"Shut up," he groaned as he strode back over, letting an impatient Lando began his turn. "I don't spend my my spare time golfing, like you nerds."

Y/N snorted as she wrote down Lando's very low score. "We're not nerds, Oscar. We're civilised."

It was Landos turn to snort. "Sure we are, cupcake." He smacked her ass as she walked up to the hole, taking the score card from her hands.

Y/N did it in two easy shots and the three moved onto the next hole. For this one, you had to hit it through a snakes mouth for it to come out in the ideal place.

Again, Oscar went first. Again, Oscar did terribly. The Aussie was was visibly tense as he walked back over to his partners.

As Lando took his go, Y/N pit her things down and placed her hands on Oscars broad shoulders. "Baby, relax," she said as she rubbed. "You're all stiff and locked up. You need to be loosey goosey, baby. Loosey goosey."

Loosey goosey. Oscar could do loosey goosey. He watched Y/N (there was no point watching Lando, who took golf way too seriously. He played much more than Y/N and, when they played together, they didn't get much golf done). He watched as she played down her pink golf ball and swung.

Her ball went straight through the snake and out the other side, appearing just beside the hole. When Oscar had tried he'd hit the side of the opening several times before giving up and hitting around it.

For the next few holes, Oscar was still trying to get into the swing of things. He was doing better, definitely, but he was still oh so many points behind Y/N and Lando.

"Drinks?" Lando suggested as they finished the safari section of the golf course.

He left Y/N and Oscar as the first of the jurassic holes as he went to get them drinks. Only beer that'll last them most of the course. When he walked back over Y/N had her hands wrapped around Oscar, helping him to putt. It was an adorable site, one Lando couldn't take his eyes off of.

Not only adorable. It was funny, too. Lando was taller and broader than Y/N, who was having a hard time wrapping her arms around him.

"We're not telling Lando about this, right?" He asked as he watched his ball roll into the hole.

"Of course not," Y/N replied and she reached up to kiss him.

Lando stood back for a moment, letting them have their moment. As Oscar pulled away from her he stepped forward, placing the drinks on a barrel beside the hole. "You two having fun?" He asked as he set himself up to take his shot.

"Yep," Y/N answered, her voice a higher pitch than usual. "Yep, did it in three shots as well. All on his own."

Oscars elbow hit Y/Ns arm, giving her a soft jab to tell her to shut up. But, when Lando laughed, he realised he knew. Lando knew what they had done. And he wasn't saying anything.

As Y/N took her go, Lando wrapped his arms around Oscar. Even with their height difference, Lando was always stood behind Oscar, holding him that way. The boys watched as Y/N hit the golf ball towards the hole.

The three of them drank their beers as they moved from hole to hole. When they moved from the jurassic section to the pirate seconds, Y/N let Oscar carry her golf club as she jumped on Landos back. "Thanks, Lan," she said and kissed his cheek as he walked.

When Lando put her down, he demanded a proper one, not just one on the cheek. And then he insisted she give Oscar a kiss for good luck.

Towards the last four holes, the competition got fierce. There was cheating involved, Lando using his foot to block their balls and Y/N hitting their balls into the shallow water that surrounded the holes.

The day was a day full of joy and laughter. There was a point where Oscar wrapped his arms around Y/N and lifted her up just before she took her shot.

"And our loser is," Y/N began as soon as they had finished the last hole and given back their clubs. "Oscar Piastri!" She called and clapped.

"Well done, Osc," said Lando as he kissed the side of his head.

"Yeah, yeah," Oscar muttered as he turned his head to kiss him properly.

Y/N cleared her throat, regaining the boys attention as she read out the next score. "In second place we have me," she said as the strode forward to give her a kiss on each cheek. And then she got a proper kiss from each of them.

"And the winner is Lando! But, seriously, did we expect any difference."

"No," Lando said as he grinned. He two got kissed by his boyfriend and his girlfriend. To celebrate properly, the day was filled with whatever Lando wanted to do. Which meant more golf, a nice dinner and a night in the bedroom, without much sleeping.

947 notes · View notes

pervertedreams · 8 months

Text

farleigh fingering you during movie night.. yeah

fingering, afab!reader

minors dni. not proofread. feedback is kewl

at his core farleigh is competitive, and also a menace, and a degenerate. so it comes as no surprise when you feel his long fingers creep up your legs. it’s movie night at the cattons, as a way to make oliver feel comfortable and more at home. you’re sat on farleigh’s lap with venetia on the opposite side of the couch. everyone else is spread out or sat on the floor, most of you having some sort of blanket or cover.

its pitch black outside of the tv that flickers before you, and both you and farleigh are fully covered with a thin blanket. you’re pressed snug against his lap and chest, can feel the way his chest rises and falls against your back. you’re nearly a half hour into the movie when you feel him lift his hips up to readjust himself, just now noticing the stiff lump that strains against your upper thigh. your stomach flips at the realization of his hard on, it’s exactly what he wanted you to notice. you almost instinctively rock your hips against his lap, the friction of his pants pulling at his sensitive shaft almost sends him into a frenzy. thankfully to anybody else it just looks like the two of you are repositioning yourselves, maybe from being uncomfortable. little did they know. thankfully at this point james and elspeth have made their way up to their shared bedroom, and the tv volume was loud enough to stifle any moans that slipped up.

you could feel his warm breath repeatedly hit the nape of your neck, noticing his breath pattern slowing down. you can’t help but lean into the hot kisses he presses against the curve of your shoulder and neck. and this time it’s his turn to rut into the swell of your ass, thankful you decided to wear a thin pair of pajama shorts.

his hands have been slowly creeping their way up your smooth legs, almost giggling at the way his fingertips tickle up your thighs. his tip is annoyed and sensitive, looking for any kind of pleasure or release. you can feel his pre-cum grow a wet spot between the two of you, he nearly hisses at a particular way you move your hips, head falling into the crook of your neck to briefly hide. “are you gonna cum already. how embarrassing.” you’re trying your damnest to vocally tease him, but the crack in your voice tells him just how horny you truly are.

silently placing condescending kisses, you feel his knee nudge your thighs further apart and his finger flex around the waistband of your shorts. he’s able to get the down far enough where he can comfortably rub you panty-clad pussy. but to his surprise you’ve decided to free ball, bare pussy on display deliciously for him.

you can feel the vibration of his groan against your skin, fingers already slipping around your slick folds. “my god you’re pathetic. and i’m embarrassing?” he chuckles under his breath, and the two of you nearly have a heart attack when venetia lifts herself off the couch, letting it be known that the movie is boring her and she’s off to bed. the two of you so occupied in your space you’d completely forgot the circumstances you were in, now leaving you with felix and oliver who were thankful back faced to you on the floor.

after your heartbeats go down, you almost throw yourself forward when farleigh’s easily sinking two fingers into your slippery cunt. the pressure from his fingers stretching you out makes you sigh in full bliss, with droopy lids and your mouth salivating. your eyes flutter shut, head resting back on his shoulder when he brings his free hand to rub slow circles around your swollen clit. nub just slipping around his manicured digits. everything below the waist is pure ecstasy and he’s soaking it all up. at this point you had forgotten there was any competition, just allowing yourself to submit to his pleasure.

he’s knuckles deep, and desperately jerking himself against any part of you he can. at this point you’ve made yourself useful by pressing a firm hand against his clothed bulge, and it’s just enough for him to get off too. hot breaths coating over your skin as he slips closer and closer to his desperate release. he quickly makes eye contact with the bag of felix and oliver’s heads, making sure you haven’t rung any attention to yourselves. you nearly cry when farleigh pulls his fingers out, his soaked fingers glisten against the light from the tv and quickly takes a taste before sinking them right back where they belong. the slight sound of a lewd squelch rings in your ears, and you can hear him moan against your ear. “think you can rub your clit for me?” you blindly oblige, messily rubbing your own clit, whiny cause he obviously does it better. one arm wraps around your hips while the free hand sinks back into your spent hole. your lurch forward, silent moans and screwed eyes. farleigh’s pressing your hard against his pleading hard on, shameless rocking his hips. there’s a tiny creak coming from you two but your both to horny and dazed to care. we know farleigh loves a show anyways.

his teeth sink into the flesh of your back, fucking himself harder against you. “i need you to cum with me baby. god i’m close.” his please his choked out and desperate, the pressure blooming in his lower abdomen getting closer and closer to snapping.

“deeper.” is all you can manage to squeak out, and he follows directions well. fingers hitting a spot that nearly makes you shout, fingers slapping to cover your mouth. you have a split moment where you take in your surrounding just to make sure the two of you aren’t caught and realize there’s only a few minutes left in the movie. in a slight panic you fuck yourself harder against farleigh, using all your senses to focus on cumming.

and almost in an instant, his grip on you tightens, sharp thrusts against you pushing him right over the edge. white flashes, and silent orgasms wash over the both of you, he completely soils himself. thick bulbs spilling from his tip and soiling his pants and your shorts. leaving a sticky substance to lie in between the two of you. you cum only moments after, and he’s doing his best not to let your walls push him out, pulsating and spasming around his fingers.

and finally when your high comes down, the two of you slump against each other, tired and spent.

hearts spike and bloom with surprise when oliver’s piercing eyes look over his shoulder whispering, “you’re so obvious.”

kinda rushed kinda sucked ass LMAO but i’m h word

#my work┊ ˚➶ ｡˚#meanie rich bf ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪#saltburn #saltburn farleigh #saltburn oliver #saltburn venetia #saltburn felix #farleigh smut #farleigh catton #farleigh x reader #farleigh start #farleigh x you #farleigh saltburn #farleigh imagine #farleigh start x reader #felix catton #felix catton x reader #oliver quick #oliver quick x reader

769 notes · View notes

absolutebl · 1 month

Text

This Week in BL - Getting hot under the collar and in the kitchen and on the pool table and...

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Aug 2024 Week 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) eps 3-4 of 12 - one of the things I'm enjoying about this show is the fact that the introverted super shy uke is having hot fantasies, and the extroverted seme is having the sweet fantasies. It's another way this show is highlighting God being the world's greenest flagged seme BL has ever produced. (And he's being given stiff competition this year - trend alert.)

Anygay: God is so cute and so not cool and so in love and all the consent asking word salad coming out of this boy. I LOVE him.

Diew: It’s ep 4 so I’ve decided we can talk face-to-face. God: So how many children do you want?

The teaching him to play basketball bit, where God politely asks to hold his hand, is so freaking adorable I can’t.

I'm thinking of calling this show the anti-Mame pill.

Blue pill? Red pill? GREEN pill!

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 11 of 12 - We gotta talk. I do like this version, but it’s starting to feel lackluster. Perhaps it always was by comparison to the bright sparkle uniqueness of the original. Perhaps I didn't notice because I was distracted by G4. But now I gotta say it's become a bit disappointing and even my love for G4 can’t seem to bind me to this. Frankly, this show is making me want to watch either the Japanese version, or My School President. It’s never a good sign when a currently airing BL makes me want to stop that and go rewatch an old one I’ve already seen.

NO SINGING.

Meanwhile, the "locked on the rooftop" trope! I haven’t seen that one in years. Cool. Also cute kisses. They learning.

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans (Fri iQIYI) ep 7 of 8 - I can’t believe this is ending next week. But also I can. And I have thoughts.

I really love SailubPon. They might be one of my favorite newer pairs on the scene right now. But I just don’t believe in these characters or this couple. I don’t feel like they are going to have a lasting relationship. It feels like they’re just using each other for sex and distraction, and that’s how the script to set it up, and as a result they’re never gonna make it as a couple. As soon as the sexual fire between them burns out, what do they have to build a relationship on? Frankly? That would be fine if this were a modern love drama, and not a BL. But this IS a BL.

Putting the health code violators aside, I really do believe in the secondary pair, but they haven’t been given enough bandwidth to develop as a couple. There’s no way they’re going to adequately resolve Methas and JJ in the final episode.

At this juncture, I’m mostly finding this show annoying. Which in itself is annoying, because I wanted to love it.

Why is it that Thailand, the land of the best food in the world, king of BLs, struggles so hard to produce the restaurant set BL of my dreams? I’m really pissed about this.

That said, the Methas & JJ stuff is killer. Loved JJ running away. So good. Plus the age old decision - love or money?

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 2-3 of 12 - The issue was me and I've managed to get hold of this show again. The story within the story is so ridiculously badly written I'm going spare. I’m not sure if the outside show is not ALSO badly written. That said, I do love how the 3 writer friends are all shipping our leads. It’s VERY silly. Meanwhile, cohabitation trope is a go.

I like the side couple too. Stern Daddy + lost puppy is a very cute dynamic, I hope we get more than just crumbs. I actually am enjoying this show now. Ep 3 kinda derailed into this weird chimera novel that they’re all writing together and I’m finding that bit the least interesting, but I adore the domestic components which I think may turn out to be TutorYim's strength (if they're allowed to lean into it).

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 1 of 10 - Man I hope this gets some kind of distribution at some point. It was a pain to find and watch. But I enjoyed it. The focus is more on the seme in Thailand’s version. Which I don’t mind since that's rare in BL, and it’s more August on my screen. It’s all round softer than China’s version but still feels very familiar. I know some fans are struggling with it, but not me.

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 10 of 12 - I like that Sam’s crafty business espionage has paid off. Them teasing Sam & Yo really had me belly laughing. It was so funny.

Legitimate question. Would one put perfume on one’s cheeks in Thailand, as one does on wrist or sternum? Because of the sniff cheek thing? Scented face powders?

I do feel like with MosBank & SailubPon scorching up our screens, we’re being spoiled by some of Thailand‘s best high heat pairs at the moment.

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 5 of 12 - It remains kind of sweet and cute. It's also calm and slow moving. Oddly it reminds me of La Cuisine in its style and execution (if not content). I’m enjoying it more than I thought I would.

The Trainee (Sun YouTube) ep 7 of 12 - I don’t know. I’m getting bored.

Love Sea (Sun iQIYI) ep 10fin - Fort’s acting during the break-up was truly great. But I feel for Rak. It’s rough to learn that someone else is playing a long game with feelings while you were playing a short game with d**k.

Ultimately this is probably a solid 8/10 show but I’m mad I wasn’t madder at it, and I'm mad I was so bored throughout. So it gets a 7/10 and let us not speak of this again. I’d like to simply forget about it. Trash watch.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 1-2 of 10 - OMG a uni student who looks young and a... COP! GAH. The subversion and kink of it all. I had to go grey to get it and I hate everything about what I had to do. But ya know what? Fucking worth every single repeated crash-causing advertisement.

I love it. The grumpy lonely little student cook and the cheerful mature police officer. What a fabulous dynamic. Is the cook looking for a boyfriend or a Daddy, and do we care if it has the same result? It is filmed VERY manga style camp. I’m a little nervous about that, but this means it’s also very fluffy and so damn sweet. It made me squeak with the cute. I’m gutted this didn’t get distribution.

Ironic that Tawada Hideya is in a new BL while Sunspot is re-airing.

Cosmetic Playlover (Japan Tues Gaga) eps 3-4 of 8 - Ah, the gays are doubting the bisexual again. How familiar. I like how this one is paced and moving through time, even if the relationship seems to be going comparatively slowly by contrast. I love the way Sahashi is always looking at Natsume, even when they’re in conversation with someone else. Ah yearning. I think the conflict was kind of inevitable, given the two personalities of the protagonists, and I like that. (No manufactured angst here.) But I still hope they can repair the breach and I’m still interested. Frankly this is so classically Japan - I don’t know what story beats it’s following and I’m not entirely sure where it’s going, but I kinda like that unpredictability. Makes me think it could go into "must you, Japan?" territory but fingers crossed.

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 9 of 10 - I'm enjoying it very much. I could do without the girl character. I know she’s more interesting than most (this is Japan after all), but she’s not really for me. It’s the complexity of the connection between the leads (and why they like each other) that’s being executed so brilliantly in this show (and in the manga, FYI). Both actors are so on point with their roles and the nuanced emotions required of these characters that every time it’s only them interacting I'm riveted. I could do without the rest of the cast tho.

Seoul Blues (Korea Fri? YouTube) ep 1 of 8 - I have a confession to make, I’ve been watching this whole series as it goes along. But this is the pair I absolutely like the most. I’m not sure I would necessarily recommend any of the installments, and I’m not sure how this one is going to go, but I’m VERY invested in this particular couple. They are so pretty!!!! This is a true friends-to-lovers struggle. I like that a lot. (Reminds me of I Cannot Reach You but a different dynamic.) Did I mention how pretty they are? And we already know they gonna kiss well. I bet the uncut version is stellar.

Meet You at the Blossom (China) - It's no one's funeral, turns out! Reports are in - not only are there kisses but it ends happily with wedding plans. So I'm eating crow, binging the fucker, and live blogging. I'm enjoying it. Ya'll know I adored Chinese BL before censorship. It has a certain unhinged quality I very much apreciate (and is the reason I'm so tolerant of the Thai pulps) that I think will marry well with Wuxia's effervescent and ever-present tropes. Watch me suffer here.

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) eps 1-2 of 12 - About a singer with stage fright and his timid fan starring Charles (H4 the puppy one) and Michael Chang (the youngster in My Tooth Your Love), plus side couple featuring a Thai actor Jame (Koh in Gen Y) and Liu Min Ting (of Guardian fame). What a damn team. With their powers combined they are...

fine.

This is a fine BL. The fight scene was fun and I like the meet cute. I’m not sure about the chemistry of the leads, but I think they’ll probably do okay. I admit I’m struggling a bit with a singing and the music. Are you surprised? I think I like it enough, but I’m not wowed.

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 7 of 10 - Oh! Out of the blue attack kiss. What IS this show? I don’t get it at all. Bah. I guess they’re dating now. It’s… so odd...

It's airing but...

4 Minutes (Thai Netflix/Grey) - A rich boy at uni suddenly gains the supernatural power to see four minutes into the future. I have a source, but I've decided to hold off and binge if it ends okay, since it's only 8 eps. I depend upon y'all to tell me if it's safe.

8/16 The Last Time (Thai Fri YT) ? eps - Convoluted story of loss and possible reincarnation or something. Again delayed? Not sure what's going on with this one but the continued push-backs do not bode well.