#what they stood for was horrendous

[possessesnightshift]

.

[mintmentos]

TfL, EMR and Thameslink my beloathed

[f1fantasys]

Riding his pole, when he got pole

Warnings - swearing, blowjob, cockwarming, fingering, m and f receiving oral, p in v sex.

2.7k words

You watched on as Lando had just got pole under the bright lights of Singapore, and you knew that this is just what he needed to boost his morale after last weeks horrendous quali.

He was a burst of energy after that - doing his interviews with a confidence that suited him so well, you couldn't help but clench your thighs together as you eyed him up and down while he was talking to Sky. The heat of the night letting him shine a glorious sheen of sweat that was literally dripping down his face and had his hair sticking to his forehead His eyes had caught you gawking at him, and he sent a smirk and a wink your way. You just couldn't wait to get back to the hotel and have your way with him. Quickly, you sent him a text;

don't shower

Because you wanted him as is. He looked so fucking sexy.

A short while later, Lando had found you waiting with Laila. You had your back to him, so as he approached you he let his arms slide around your body into a tight hug from behind, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

Your instinct had you squeezing his hands that were resting on your stomach, as you turned your head and pecked his cheeks as best you could.

Laila quickly bid you both goodbye as Mick had just texted her saying he was ready to leave.

''Hi baby'' you mumbled, as soon as she left, taking in Lando's scent, a mix of his sweat and musky perfume.

''Hmmm'' he said, smiling with his face still in your neck.

''Back to the hotel?'' you asked, knowing Lando would catch on to how desperate you were.

''Someone's needy'' he said, turning your body to face his fully as he pulled you into a soft kiss, hands running through your hair.

''Huh, and you're to blame'' you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind you.

The drive back to the hotel was filled with chatter about the day, though you really couldn't concentrate on anything Lando was saying.

When at a red light, his hand found your thigh and slowly inched its way up, slipping past your dress and into the elastic of your panties.

Your breath hitched as you turned to look at him, but his eyes were straight ahead, face neutral, as if his fingers weren't running through your folds.

You spread your legs wider as he found your clit, pinching and tugging on it, unable to keep you moans at bay.

''Fuck Lan'' you panted, biting down harshly on your bottom lip as he finally pushed a finger through your entrance, quickening his pace when he realized how slick you were.

But suddenly, when the light went green, Lando's fingers left your body and went straight into his mouth. He sucked them all clean on your juices, and placed his hand back on the steering wheel, driving off as if you weren't a breathless mess in the seat next to him.

''Lannn'' you whined, but he just kept his eyes on the road ahead, so all you could do was clench your thighs as tightly as possible, hoping to relieve some of the pressure he had just built up.

''Patience, baby'' he finally said in his thick British accent, hoarse with how turned on he himself was.

Finally, back at the hotel, before you could even close the door properly, Lando had you pushed up against it, his mouth latching onto yours as if he was a starved man.

It was messy, and dirty. Spit already running down your chin as you pulled him impossibly closer, moaning into his mouth as your tongues battled for dominance. You won.

''Waited all fucking day to do this'' he breathed, lips moving down to your neck as you both stripped each other of your clothes.

You couldn't help but struggle to get Lando's polo and shorts off - they were stuck to him because of his sweat, which you weren't complaining about.

So as he pulled back to take everything off himself, you just stood there taking him in. You watched as his sweat traveled down his chest, defined abs, eventually settling on the top of his waist.

Lando caught you eyeing him up for the second time today, sending you another smirk. ''Like what you see?'' he asked.

You teasingly stuck your tongue out at him as you pushed him backwards to the couch.

He took a seat and spread his legs wide, and you swear you stopped breathing at the sight of him. Of course, he was devilishly handsome, had the hottest fucking body you could imagine, but when your eyes landed on his thick girth, you knew you were done for. It was always one of your favourite parts of his body. It stood there, tall and hard, begging for attention, twitching which caused pre cum to slide down the sides.

''Fuck, please'' he begged, face softening because he knew he was putty in your hands now.

''Who's eager now?'' you asked, sliding on to your knees between his legs before finally taking his dick into your hands and pumping him a few times.

''Fucking hell, you're seriously something else'' he mumbled, more to himself.

As much as you wanted to tease him, you were more desperate to have him in your mouth. To taste him. So you dove straight in, taking as much of his cock as you could, feeling the tip hit the back of your throat, already gagging at the action.

Lando leaned back and placed his hands behind his head, shutting his eyes and concentrating on the feeling of euphoria that you were giving him.

You quickened your pace of sliding him in and out of your mouth, stopping every so often to suck harshly on his tip before bottoming out again.

''Fuck baby, just like that'' he said, leaning down and taking your head in his hands, now guiding your movements as he fucked himself in and out of your mouth.

''So fucking good at this'' he moaned. You, for starters, were a mess. You had spit and precum running down your chin, dripping onto your clenched thighs.

All you could do was moan around his cock as you could feel Lando's actions starting to falter, indicating he was close to letting loose. You held down onto his thighs when his hold on your head tightened, almost painfully so.

''Fuck, y/n, I'm cuming'' Lando barely managed to say as he shot ropes of warm salty cum down your throat, letting out a series of dirty moans and grunts as he emptied his load.

You pulled back for air as you swallowed everything, your hands finding his still on your face as you squeezed on him, tears running down your face.

You looked up to see him with his eyes closed, face scrunched up in ecstasy before leaned forward to properly lick all the cum off his throbbing cock.

Lando hissed at the contact when your tongue swiped over his slit. ''Fuck'' he silently whispered.

Once you'd licked him clean, Lando pulled you onto his lap. You straddled him as he kissed you again, full of urgency and once again there was a battle of domination between you tongues.

You'd both stayed like that for a while, just content with making out endlessly until you needed air to breath so you pulled back and Lando rested his head back on the sofa, both your chests rising and falling to catch up to a normal heart rate again.

You smiled at each other, both exhausted from the day - it was long, hot, pumped on adrenaline - and as much as you wanted to fuck each other senseless, you were honestly too tired.

''Shower then bed?'' he asked. ''I'm exhausted''

''Yeah me too'' you said, quickly pecking his lips before climbing off and heading for the bathroom.

After a lazy shower together, where Lando decided he ''needed to taste you'', and 2 orgasms later, you jumped into bed, you being the little spoon and Lando being the big spoon.

He kissed you goodnight and settled behind you, wrapping you in his arms tightly. Just as you were about to doze off, you felt him shuffle.

''Lan?'' you asked, not liking the feeling of his arms moving to unwrap you.

''Yeah baby'' he whispered. ''Go back to sleep, I'll take care of it'' he said, slowing spreading your legs a little.

Quickly, your mind caught up to what he was doing, and you couldn't help but let out a stifle moan when you felt his rock hard cock brush against your ass.

Finally, Lando let his girth slide through your folds a few times before he slowly pushed himself into you, all the way in as he gave your body a chance to accept the intrusion.

You smiled to yourself and whispered to him ''Hmm, cockwarming. My favourite''

Once he was settled in nicely, he got comfortable behind you again, allowed his arms to wrap around you before kissing your neck a final time as you both dozed off, literally joined at the hip.

At some point through the night when you woke up to check the time, it took your mind a minute to get up to speed as to what was happening. You were still tucked in front of Lando and his cock was still sitting inside you, hard as ever.

As tired as you were, you couldn't help but move you body slightly forwards and backwards a few times to relieve the ache that was in your core. You could feel the slick and sticky juices from the both of you as you heard Lando mumble something but within minutes you both were fast asleep again.

When you awoke for the second time that night, you were on you tummy, and you could feel Lando's wight on top of you.

''Fuck, sorry'' he whispered. ''Needed you baby, go back to sleep'' he whispered, leaning down to kiss your neck before you gentle started sliding in and out of you, this time relieving his own throbbing cock from the ache.

You were in a daze, half asleep, half awake as Lando moved in and out of you. Slowly at first, and when he noticed you weren't fully asleep, he quickened his movements rapidly.

''Fuck baby, you're so tight. So fucking good'' he whispered as you let out a few borderline pornographic moans. your fingers latching onto the bed-sheets and squeezing them.

''Lan, more please'' you begged.

He reached down and toyed with your clit, immediately sending you over the edge with no warning, your body shuddering underneath him as you coated his cock with your cum, and within seconds he followed behind, releasing his load deep within you as he rode you both through your orgasms.

No words, just breathless pants and moans filling the room until he finally let his body weight fall on your back, nuzzling his face into your neck, thanking you for being ''so fucking amazing''.

After you both caught your breaths again, Lando pulled out and quickly cleaned the both of you up before pulling you to his side, and you both fell asleep, more content than earlier.

When you finally woke in the morning, you groaned when you reached to the other side of the bed and found it empty, just as Lando emerged from the bathroom in nothing but a towel.

He gave you a wink and a sheepish smile as you shamelessly eyed him up and down when he let the towel drop to the floor, putting his boxers on, when you sprinted out of the bed and stopped him.

He gave you a shocked look at you sudden movement.

''Fuck, wait.'' you said, gently pushing him to sit down on the chair he was standing next to.

''Wanted to do this last night but was too tired. Need to do it now'' you said, straddling him in the chair, his arms instinctively wrapping around your too naked body.

You kissed him with force, wasting no time in sliding your tongue into his mouth before he could even respond, while his hands roamed your body. He squeezed your ass a few times before running them up to toy with your boobs.

''You're trouble.'' he said, ''And desperate.'' he said when you pumped his cock, sliding your thumb over his tip. ''But i love you'' he finally ended.

Just as you lined him up and were about to sink down on him, Lando stilled your movements from you waist. You let out a groan and gave him a puzzled, desperate look.

''Lannn what?'' he said, leaning down to leave a few wet kisses on his face and neck.

''What is it you wanted to do? This is nothing new? You riding me?'' he asked.

''Fuck, you got pole yesterday, and i wanna ride your pole'' you said softly.

Lando's whole demeanor changed. His eyes quickly turned shades darker, his expression changed to one that looked like he was ready to devour you, and you couldn't help but let out a giggle at his antics.

With no warning he pulled your body down onto him. Your giggles quickly turned into moans as you remembered what you were doing.

You braced your hands on his broad shoulders as you continuously lifted yourself up and down on him, his hands burning holes at how tight he was holding your waist, guiding your movements.

''Uh, Lando oh'' you moaned, feeling his dick throbbing inside of you.

''That's it baby, ride me, fuck me, fuck my pole baby, yeah'' he said through a few breathless moans of his own.

You leaned down and took one of his nipples into your mouth, sucking and tugging at it harshly as Lando was no lifted his hips up to meet your halfway.

''Fuck, Lando'' you moaned when his hands found your own boobs and pinched your nipples, before lowering his mouth to them and repeating what you just did to his.

''Lando I'm gonna cum'' you warned, knowing your orgasm would come soon.

''Fuck let it out baby. Riding me so fucking good, such a good little whore for me'' he said harshly as his fingers found your clit to stimulate you some more.

And with that your body was shaking above him, your orgasm ripping through you as you came violently around his throbbing cock.

''Fuck baby'' he moaned at the feeling of your juices coating him.

You don't know where you got the energy from now suddenly you were riding him faster now, desperate to feel him cum inside of you while you chased yet another high of your own.

''Gonna win today Lan, yeah? you questioned, knowing it would rile him up in the best ways before a race.

''Fuck yes'' he all but shouted, ''And then gonna celebrate with you later, gonna fuck you so hard you won't even be able to walk tomorrow'' he said between gritted teeth.

His word already had you cumming again, this time your body feeling like jelly in his arms, and so it was up to him to chase his high now, muttering dirty words in your ears though you couldn't even make it what he was saying in your fucked out state.

And in seconds Lando was throwing ''fucks'' out left right and center when he finally came undone, emptying his load into you again as you both slowed your movements.

You let your body collapse forward onto his as he held you tight, brushing your hair that was stuck to your face because of your sweat.

''If me getting pole means i get this as a reward, I'll fucking work for it every race. That was incredible baby'' he said, face so close to yours you could feel his breath.

All you could do was smile. ''Even better reward if you win the race'' you cooed.

And guess what? He fucking won the race later that day.

And guess what else? You couldn't walk properly the next day.

[controld3vil]

i'll hex you, i'll possess you

pairing(s): aegon ii targaryen x wife!reader, aemond "one eye" targaryen x reader (unrequited/one sided)

synopsis: Your husband is gone. He perished in whatever was left of the battle, seared flesh, and dragon’s tar. As unbearable as it was, you fight for his throne against his brother. Believing it is for his for the taking.

notes: mentions of s02ep05, i fr feel so bad for aegon :( also cw: hints of obsessed!aemond (bc he's insane :D)

In quite a haste, you sped past all the onlookers like flies. They were nonexistent in your peripherals, your attention was entirely up ahead to the King’s chambers, the Kingsguards who stood by. Your Grace, they would say before allowing you passage past their protection. You took a glimpse, here in the dressing room for the King. Your King.

“Your Grace!” The seamstress chirped, turning to greet your lovely smile. And your righteous presence everywhere you went. It affected all now that you were the face of King’s Landing. It’s a hefty duty, yes, however, it seemed many subjects were willing, if not encouraged, of your subsequent role as the consoling figure for the realm to look to.

In front of a tall mirror was Aegon, in full Valyrian armor. You’d guessed the armor was passed down through his ancestral line, ancient, and beautiful it was kept. All the plates fit him perfectly with little alterations to adjust. Yet absent of the signature helmet paired with it, his blonde hair lay just above his shoulders, gently. 

Ever so kind were your visage toward the King. You could feel the corners of your lips curve warmly at the sight of him. He was handsome and eager to appease the people of his kingdom. Though he may not be the first choice for Throne, you knew he was trying his best to uphold the responsibilities and burden those must bear. You would have to bear it as well if you were Queen. 

“Good morrow,” You breathed, flattening the wrinkles of your dress as an excuse to eye at Aegon, openly. There was nothing to hide, simply it was different from his normal attire. In armor, in all of your lifetime, you never had to experience warfare, for better or worse. 

“Ah, my lovely wife!” In exclamation, your husband turns to compliment your captivating smile as he gleams contentedly. He takes a few steps down from the small stairway from the miniature podium, while some of his personal Kingsguard can be heard snickering. Which you wholeheartedly ignored as your attention laid straight to your King’s beaming face. “Just who I wanted to see!”

“I must speak with you,” Through your expressed delightfulness, the tone of your voice is quickly replaced with a sour one. And it seemed to have caught the attention of the seamstress and others in the room as they all paused at your subtle notion of privacy. “Alone.” Only when you mention it, it’s as though they were a flock of birds, all fleeing from the chambers at once. A few clatters and suddenly the doors were quietly slammed shut with a whisper of a demand. 

However, your husband did not seem fazed at all. He merely shrugged, casually walking to fill a cup or two with wine. Yet a visible glower can be caught right after he steps off the podium and to the table of beverages. Sometimes his reaction to your urgency was comedic. The King was never one to take duties earnestly. It’s one of his eminent flaws that all of the townsfolk and servants knew of. His days by the Silk Roads were but a regular story. But now, he is a changed man, Aegon thinks. They’ve witnessed all of his mistakes and tourneys. He’s young and has never been as interested in duty as his siblings. And now suddenly, he was pulled onto the seat as King. And you would have to sit beside him and watch. As a graceful symbol yet mute on what to say on any matter. 

How horrendous was that? 

“What troubles you, my sweet?” The sound of liquid plops as all of the noise from the outside world becomes muffled. For the past few days, it has been the most chaotic and tragic period of your life. Not just for you and Aegon, but everyone in King’s Landing. Your son, Jaehaerys, was left for dead at the hands of a murderer and false ruler. Panic was running through the streets of Flea Bottom. People questioned the King’s cruel punishment of the rat catchers though Aegon did not care for their grief. 

To you, it was more than sadness. But anger and confusion, all of your pent-up emotions ever since living in King’s Landing have made you become this way. The Capital has changed you. To who you were as a person and figure of nobility. Now you were suddenly the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, yet only moments ago, you were the princess of the firstborn son of the King. You should have expected war to come between siblings over the throne, yet your father persisted that the marriage would’ve led to success. Having lost your child, your son, made the promise to communicate more to Aegon. To somehow seek solace in the empty void of your heart in whatever left the world had. 

“You named Ser Criston Cole your Hand…” You mumbled slowly, the last words faded out into thin air. Was he wrong to do so? You did not want to say. For the little you knew about the battle being played at hand, you knew Aegon’s impulsiveness would come to the cost of many. Especially of the Council when they have refused relentlessly his thoughts and suggestions. So perhaps this decision would cause more upbringing for the noblemen to bleat about. “Why?”

A muffled sound and then a snort comes out of his mouth as Aegon proceeds to sip his wine. As if not a care of the world or your concern over the matter. “And why does this concern you?” 

He does the courtesy to hand you your cup, as you clasped it eagerly to swallow whatever worry your heart must feel. The Queen Regent, Aegon’s brother, Aemond, and even Criston Cole, all look for you in the guidance you have over their King. You’ve yet to make it clear that you don’t control him like many others would consider to do. You’d think it's heartless to manipulate a man of his feelings, especially your husband. 

Eventually, you lay the cup down, trailing your finger around the outer details of the golden goblet. It’s glimmering through the sun, carefully designed with outlines of a dragon and flames that surround the jugular of the base of the cup. It curves and twists under your palm as you proceed to swirl the liquid inside and watch as a mini typhoon is formed. 

“Do you believe your decision on making him Hand was just?” You lift your gaze to be met with his bright purple eyes. It always seemed intense and vivid in color whenever his attention was on you. As if you were the only person that mattered in the room. And if not at this moment.

You looked ravishing, decorated in his house colors with pops of gold from the jewelry and headwear. You had no shame in exemplifying wealth because he would give you everything willingly. No matter the cost or debt, every piece of gold, and diamond was meant to be yours. He watches as your golden droplet earrings jingle when you shake your head, contemplating your next words. “Because I do not think that was the wisest decision to be made, husband.”

“And, care to explain why?” Like every little piece of his childhood, Aegon looks at every objective like a game. Though he looked like he was trying to resist your hesitancy for his new Hand, he was staring into space at the glorious jewels that make your figure and face pop out more. 

You urged, before meeting the King by the tableside where the pitcher lay. “He is a warrior, not a politician,” You set your goblet aside, to look your husband in the eye more closely. “He does not know the ways of the people, especially those who he surrounds himself with. He was born lowborn, making him more naive than aware of tellings.” 

Yes, you make great points, he would say if you did not have that adorable scowl on your face. Aegon would admit, he was getting drunk by the minute. And your presence did not help in his regard to be sober. Regardless, he does take account of your calls, more than most that surround himself with. Everyone at the Council is eager to spout their plans and news, it makes him deaf to the ear when they have nothing to contribute when he suggests something. Nevertheless, you at least are supportive of his thoughts. Despite your constructive nature, he appreciates and craves your attention. 

Your King hums, drowsily and that was when you knew his mind was somewhere else. You would admit, you too were becoming tipsy with alcohol. After the morning Council meeting, you rather have your head hung outside with ratcatchers at the mess of the Council. You glance at his attire once more and this time, he catches you. He sees you, the way your doe eyes wander up and down his figure. He rarely has a chance to wear dragon armor like this. 

“Distracted, are we?” His breath immediately inches away from yours. And the scent of strong alcohol stings. You’re so accustomed to it, that you’re surprised you would still rebuke the scent of it. Apart from that, the look Aegon gives you makes your heart weak. His smile is sluggish but pulls you in like a serpent in water. It’s alluring and hypnotizing, the way his focus wanders in all of you, and the same for him. You can’t help but wonder if the work of the armor was tricked. And you let your desires plunder when you trace his breastplate armor. Of the harsh outlines it’s supposed to represent dragon scales. It’s majestic and divine, fit for a king. 

Almost timidly, your husband giggles at your touch. He separates a stray hair from your cheek, allowing leeway more into your personal space. You can’t feel automatically embarrassed if someone were to barge in. Because anyone could, the seamstress, Kingsguard, or worse, his mother. 

“Wear that armor more often and perhaps you’ll receive more than indecent staring,” A mischievous grin forms as again another jingle of your golden jewelry. Gods, you’re enticing and coy. Had he mentioned that? More than once. 

The first time you were at Court, it was a spur of surprise. Not only had you arrived with Prince Aemond unannounced, but Aegon encouraged it. You would suspect the disapproving faces of the men, especially coming from the King’s Hand and grandsire. How he ploys and plots with every citizen of King’s Landing to do his bidding. To save the Realm, of course, more to have the most influence in the city. You were aware of what he thinks of you. An obedient and dainty princess. The Queen and wife to the King should have no right to speak of politics. 

And yet here you were. 

“You do not have a seat in this Council,” Queen Regent, Alicent urges, gazing at her second son with slight apprehension. In doubt, she feels a quick quiver of fear the moment Aemond strides past the Council table. When it came to you, Alicent could only muster a poor glance. The one-eyed prince proceeds towards the map of Westeros that stands beside the King. He strides in confidence, abruptly ignoring every piercing stare bestowed on him. Other than him, you reached towards the seat at the opposing side of your King, hand delicately trailing down the handles of the chair.

“Aemond is my closest blood and our strongest sword. I welcome him,” Aegon lay unfazed at the subtle shocked expressions on everyone’s faces. “As for my wife, I think it should be customary for her to be by my side even in Council. As my father has allowed you to do for him, remember mother?” A playful grin, all-knowing of his lightheartedness, and carelessness of what others thought of his decisions. Surely his mother would be the most understanding, bestowing the same position many years ago when King Viserys was dealt ill and immobile. Shouldn’t the Queen beside her King as should they in every instance? 

Alicent is silent in her displeasure. There was no reason to refute the King’s wishes and sometimes made you appreciative of Aegon’s power and status. Being King was a risky position however it offered you more freedom and the ability to speak your mind more often than not. Your husband was the cause of this leverage for the most part. You expected the Queen Dowager to give you any kind of sign of comfort except there was none. Only but a forgotten thought and you were dismissed. 

It fills you with dismay, a small black hole for where her approval was meant to be. For the last few days, you’d only wished for Alicent’s consoling eyes.

“We should send troops marching to Harrehal, the Riverlands have the largest force.” Aemond waves his hand over where the location of Riverrun is plastered on the wall. It’s curved in cursive lettering, surrounding soft green fields, most notably of their Southern lands, which was an inhabited place of divided houses and discourse. The largest force, it had many issues of compromises and its lordship. “With them, Rhaenyra’s forces would be left vulnerable on land.”

The accordance of hums coaxed the second son with assurance. A sense of pride if you will, knowing how much more skilled and knowable he was than his brother. But the Hand was quick to question his methods. 

“And what of the small Houses of Riverrun? The Brackens and Blackwoods have been fighting each other for centuries. They would never work together as one,” Otto points out and it brings more skepticism and worry to the other Councilmen. Alliances with the Southerners were awkward. They do not know when or where to stop the fight. And it has become extremely bothersome at the time of war. The Bracken and Blackwoods were examples of that. They proceeded with the war more for themselves and would kill hundreds of their men if it meant to end their rivalry before the war even began. 

“We should negotiate with smaller Houses beyond the River lands then,” Your lips shudder slightly when the immediate eyes turn to you. Even your husband stares at you in astonishment and curiosity the same. Alicent looks at you warily. And Aemond, all too mysterious, holds a neutral look. “Would it not help Ser Criston Cole secure more of the surrounding Houses towards their larger forces? Gaining allies along the way to Riverrun would only add more to our numbers,”

“And in truth, give us a better advantage to overruling Riverrun altogether?” A devilish grin was on Aegon’s face at your suggestion. Your advice seemed promising and seemed risky but it was the most practical. King’s Landing had more advantage on land than the sea or sky, therefore it was evident in their leverage over the smaller Houses close to Riverrun. 

You tilt your head in amusement, all while lowering yourself to sit down. Yes, even though you had no experience in politics or war, you listened. You had ears whenever you managed to walk past one of their meetings. It should be frowned upon but you did not care. You wanted to have more say in protecting your family and House. Most things had been provided for you at an early age. You were a princess with a wealthy father, negotiations were your family’s specialty. You learned early on how to enunciate and please people with the way of your words. And here, you simply voiced what you believed was the safest way to Riverrun. Despite all the demeanors, none of the other Councilmen had anything else to say or disprove of your plans. 

“Good! Then it’s settled then,” The king rises, as well as everyone else who feels startled at his shifted demeanor. “Then Ser Criston Cole should prepare some men for the long journey ahead of us by dawn!” It was then you felt some sort of pride that would solidify your position at the Council. As long as you hold a strong mind, should your advice become helpful towards the men, you’d hoped they would see your presence as a blessing. 

In some midst of it all or perhaps the end, Aemond is quiet. He’s curious and admires you for everything you strive for. Many people would assume he despises you for taking the initiative to aid his king. But he does not believe in that no, you’re a delicate thing and would never be selfish on greed. Merely he can appreciate your ambitious strides from afar. The way you act around the people, the Council, and his mother makes him believe you were born into the role of Queen. You care for your subjects and think of what’s best for them. You do your best to stay by your king’s side even though he lacks the mind for it. 

Perhaps maybe, in some cases, he should’ve had you. 

The words struck right out of his head just when everyone was dismissed. While the nobleman rushes out of the council room, he delays his leave momentarily to catch a glimpse of you. You define the example of his House’s wealth, always proud to dress in colors of black and crimson red as if it was your second skin. However you do not forget about your own House colors, you embrace it all together with his own and it makes him wonder what kind of beauty like yourself can be persuaded by the likes of his brother. You were quick-witted, amusing, and altogether undeserving of Aegon’s love. 

You do not immediately flee the room as his mother or Ser Criston Cole had done. Instead, you slowly rise from your seat and make your way to your husband, eagerly. Aegon sits comfortably in his golden chair, smug with loving eyes at your figure. He could not help but eye at you openly even with his Kingsguard standing beside him. 

“Aemond, may we have the room?” He hears his older brother say. It does not take a blind man to know the following events as the one-eyed prince simply tilts his head in your direction. Before storming out of the room and the slam of the doors. His footsteps clank against the cold cobblestone pavement as he makes his way to his room. But all he could think about was your lively laughter as he disappeared from the scene. 

The day after Cole’s troops arrived back at King’s Landing, you felt a string of worry crawling down your spine. As you pace across your bedroom, you fiddle with the ends of your loose hair to solace the anxiety you feel in your stomach. The pit was too unbearable as more men would be escorted out towards Rook’s Rest. After Aegon removed Otto Hightower as Hand, Criston Cole became the primary candidate for the position. You voiced your concerns before but Aegon had yet to change his decisions on your advice.

Now rumors have spread that by the time Cole invades Rook’s Rest, Aemond would be by his side to counter whatever attack Rhaenyra plans to defend her councilman. It would risk losing one dragon, the biggest and largest female beast you’d seen. Doubt fills your mind when you try to shake your worries away. You shook your hands feverishly and swatted away the sweat building up against your palms. You must speak to Aemond. You should warn him of the consequences of this act. 

You found the prince outside of the castle. Vhagar resides in a shallow space close to the gateways to the city and is attentively monitored for her whereabouts. Very few dragon keepers watch over the powerful beast for her dangerous nature and size. As a cart, full of sheep was being carried by horses, you looked in awe at the amount of necessity the castle must provide for their dragons now. Surely it would impact the people’s living and cost. It worries you how chaotic and unlawful the palace seemed to behave in times of war. Even though you find yourself wanting to question Aemond’s intentions of helping Cole this way. 

Your words settle like a soothing wave in his ears. “Prince Aemond,” And when the one-eyed prince spots you, holding the reins of your horse with a steady hand, he’s not afraid to show his approval of your presence. The colors you wear today are regarded as wealth and beauty. The golden linen stretches along the cloth of obsidian, representative of his House, your House. The gown expands upon your collarbone, allowing the silver necklace you have on to become the ire of his attention. It entices him, brings him into your line of view. Clear cut diamonds you had on your earlobes, they jingle at the slightest movement you make, as you make your way towards him with ease. 

“Your Grace,” He prompts, politely. He is a plain canvas for you to paint over, to inspect over. You should not be afraid of his presence because he behaves well under yours. The prince regent eyes you down carefully and you’re vaguely reminded of the day before, the two of you entered the Council room.

“How was your ride with Vhagar?” You tenderly incite, head tilting towards his beast. Vhagar sits lazily with her entire body blended into the environment. Her muddy green scales combine with the grassy interior. The dragon pits were deemed too small for her size. And more so claustrophobic for a creature of her caliber, as a champion of many wars and destruction, Vhagar is rather docile for being the largest dragon. 

He hums before easily answering. “The morrow dew is not something to be missed during this time. Vhagar could sense it, and the warm breeze is sure to come sooner for summer,” He crossed his arms behind his back as if analyzing your every breath as you walked in irregular patterns, trailing along where his dragon resides. Your attention was not fully on him. No, not that he wouldn’t mind. But it was ignorant on your part to ignore him so easily. “Now save the rest of this nonsense for supper or shall I ask what were your real intentions for coming here? Though I welcome it,” 

You catch onto his coarse tone. Aemond dislikes those who do not take him seriously, like his brother. And you are aware of his estranged heart. You give him a look of consideration. It was the look of someone who had the upper hand. You knew he was becoming impatient with your meddling. 

“What are your plans with Criston Cole going to Rook’s Rest?” Your figure fully faces him now as you cup your hands together modestly. Surely the prince of the realm should respect the Queen’s uncertainties when he meets with the King’s Hand behind his back. A sliver of dread falls on the blonde prince as you take a step closer. “Consoling with the Hand without the King’s presence is extremely demeaning, my prince. Surely you have a right reason to go behind his back,” 

He takes a step forward, as Aemond’s eye moves back and forth from you. “We have a plan,” He is recursive in his thoughts and manners. Yet under your eyes, he feels utterly weak and broken, as if you have put a spell on him. “It is best if the King does not intervene.”

 Shaking your head disapprovingly, you fake disappointment. “Then what do you plan to do?” The longer it went on, the more you could feel his blood rising at the way you glanced and teased at his exploits. “As I, the Queen should know.”

“You need not,” The second son grunts, moving away to leave whatever conversation you were trying to muster with him. You intended to snuff out his plans with Criston Cole and expose them to your King's husband. Your King husband. What would he know of battles and formation? He knew better strategy than him yet you still side with Aegon with his pathetic whims on the townsfolk. 

Unsatisfied, you shot a disapproving grin. “I know you intend on attacking Rook’s Rest as a surprise, why else would you go with Cole?” You heard his mudded footsteps stop momentarily as you continued. “My question to it is, what are you trying to prove out of this act of disloyalty?” It flicks a trigger in him. A quick flash of anger, jealousy, and disgust, all coiled into one hole that explodes. 

“I intend to prove I am the better fit as heir,” His tone is sharp and alert as he stomps back to you with a violent gaze. His one good remaining eye, unharmed and uncut, shoots daggers at your stern face. A small part of you thinks he is handsome. The way you can rile him within seconds gives you a sense of joy and satisfaction that quenches whatever annoyance you had of him before.

“There is no denying that,” Your lips agape still at how much you were able to pry out of Aemond. However, there was one detail you needed to remind him of. “But you fail to recognize that Aegon still has an heir, Maegor.” With that, you close your mouth to form a thin line as you stand more confidently against the prince’s deadly stare. “And as Queen, I hope you do not try to cross your King’s benevolent trust with your anger.” 

It was his turn to remain there motionless. The one-eyed prince repeats your words over and over again. He contemplates them long and hard, glaring at the ground, at where you stood, close to his breath and space. But all of his emotional desires could be examples of an ill temper. You twist and turn his head like a puppeteer to a helpless marionette. And his strings had long sprung and trapped him in an immobile place.

He leaves without a word.

The battle was over. But the war continued. You became increasingly paranoid as no word from Cole’s army of Aegon’s wellbeing. You heard unreliable news. This and that but you wanted the real thing. The truth from a real member who had witnessed the battle at Rook’s Rest. As you twist the ring on your finger, you glance towards the rising crowd in the city. There were so many citizens.  They succeeded and followed like colonies of ants. 

Your anguish was reassured when the sight of the King’s army appeared. Shouts and screams returned you from your thoughts as hundreds of men walked and rode on horseback. Your lively expression did not last long, only to falter when meant with their solemn faces. What a grim battle it must’ve been.

“All hail King Aegon! Who went against and slain the traitor, Rhaenys, and her dragon, Meleys!” Cole exclaims in a harsh and undeserving undertone. From where you stood, on the high mounts of the castle, you saw the horrors of what they’ve done to the traitors. A severed head of the Red Queen, without her rider. Her flesh was torn and burnt. Charred from the attacks of another dragon, you did not believe Aegon had done so. You had doubts and Criston’s indifferent frown proved your intuition. 

Alicent was by the patio where you spied on the citizens of King’s Landing. She observes and feels a familiar dread from the aftermath she has yet to witness for herself. You have taken the position of Queen and in turn, must understand the order of things. Simply because she had a feeling that things did not seem as they were predicted by the townsfolk. 

When the wooden carriage of your husband is delivered to your bed chambers, everyone storms aside for the guards to set it on the floor. You arrived shortly after, nails and teeth clenched in fear as your mother-in-law appeared beside you with the same fixation. And somewhere else, your brother-in-law, Aemond carefully watches your scared position. The lid lifts and the soldiers hold onto the emergency bed that protects their King. In a swift motion, they lift and allow the body to hover over your shared bed.

In patience and precision, Maester Orywle walks into the chambers with several other maesters under his wing to begin a procedure and analysis of his injured body. The room is quickly transformed into a medical room, with various tools and gadgets displayed for the maesters disposal. You had little clue what they were doing, worried about your husband’s awakened state. 

“How is he?” You stumbled by the foot of the bed, where the other maesters scurry to give off Maester Orwyle a scalpel. Gods, the wounds he had mustered. You felt terrified and rightfully so. This could be the last time you see your husband, alive and breathing. “Is he awake?”

“I’m not sure, Your Grace,” Maester Orwlye replies with adequate patience. Knowing the panic and hysteria you must feel for your king, your husband, he pities in your state. You should not deserve such sorrow. “But I must be given time to work on his fatal wounds. Whether he lives or not will be confirmed afterward.” His unflinching face softens when glances at one of Aegon’s personal Kingsguard to escort you outside. The knight nods and walks forward to excuse himself before coming forward.

“My apologies, Your Grace,”

Yet you did not want to leave. Your palms felt hot and guilt-ridden with the idea of leaving Aegon alone to suffer. You urge, taking a step forward for only Maester Orwyle to hear. “How long can you be sure he will survive?” It’s so hushed with desperation in your voice. But the maester could only respond with a sorrowful shake. It breaks your heart wholly, to know not even the best medical professionals had a clear understanding or answer to their King’s expectancy. 

As you feel pathetic tears, ready to fall, the Queen Regent rushes to take hold of your forearm. She drags your pitiful self out of the chambers. The bodies that remained stepped aside for you and Alicent to leave swiftly. A quick flash of silver and black vanishes from your peripherals, but you cannot process anything that is happening anymore. 

The syllables of your name ring against your ears as the Queen Regent tries to bring you back to her. “My dear, please focus on me.” Delicate fingers drape a hold of your jaw, firmly. They smooth over the apples of your cheeks, smoothly and soothingly like a gesture a mother would do for their children. “You need to stand strong for Aegon and yourself. Your children, think of Jaehaera and Meagor! Pray to the gods for his health.” 

With that, you took a deep breath. 

Aemond was avoidant to the whole ordeal. No one besides Criston Cole was there when he found his brother’s scorched body. Alongside his dragon, Sunfrye, it looked as though he was fighting for his last breath. Aemond would’ve taken that chance to send him to eternal sleep if not for Cole’s arrival. A pity for him.

As he watches the scene before him, your grief-stricken features are what caused the most pain. You resembled a tragic painting, so angelic it’s saddening to see you this way. Aemond could’ve done it. He could have killed his brother and taken the glory of killing Meleys. Despite that, he did not and stormed from the scene. Now left in the shadows of what’s to come, he numbly waits for the maester’s work to be done with. The Council meeting will begin shortly. After Aegon’s procedure and Maester Orywle, official confirmation of whether he would live or not would determine whether he would become the true heir or not. 

This was what he wanted, yes? 

Except, everything was bleak now. All the colors he witnessed were suddenly wiped; now all he saw was black and white. Your tragic face comes into mind, along with your fragile sniffles and tears. Gods, he wanted to comfort your sweet little heart. Yet knowing he was the cause of it, made Aemond strangely more devoted to you. If Aegon does not survive, you are bound to be a widow. Your youngest child, Meagor was still but a babe, unfit and too young to understand what an heir was. Therefore he would be the rightful option if all else failed. He would rule in the King’s stead. 

That was what the one-eyed prince considered when he stepped through the doors to begin the Council. The King’s chair was empty as expected, looking lonely and authoritative without its ruler. In the same sense, on the opposite side, you sat soberly with nothing but a blank look. You wore cool-toned colors this morning. It reflected much of what you must be feeling. 

Grief, misery, and blame.  Even in this poor state, he still considers you attractive and alluring. It’s a shame you looked dejected and lifeless despite all your energy and might to stay awake. Your hair was even braided in a simpler style. Knowing you always had a knack for extraverted taste, Aemond takes in your appearance profoundly. Because perhaps, everyone in the Council can understand the emphasis on the wife of the King. As they eagerly await Maester Orwyle’s results, they all gaze at your seat for any kind of solace. 

He takes the chair to your left and sits. While the Grand Maester begins to explain Aegon’s conditions. The longer he spewed, the more you felt your heavy heart fall deeper into your chest. How would the realm react now? Their king suddenly struck and immobile to be by their side. He had defeated Rhaenys in battle however now suffered in a long-inducing coma just as his father did. Who would rule in his absence? It only made sense in your mind but you did not make it become a reality. 

“But he is very much alive, Your Grace,” Maester Orywle gives an earnest smile to the Queen Mother as she exhales with the utmost relief. “Though he will need time to recover, I do not think he will ever be the same.” 

An unfavorable grunt from Aemond brings attention from you and Cole. “So he is unable to leave his chambers.”

“I’m afraid not,” 

“Then we must choose who is to rule in his stead,” Lord Wylde speaks of the obvious, sparing everyone a momentary glance. He clears his throat and rubs his beard, nervously.

“If anyone should come in Aegon’s stead, it is his wife,” Alicent jabs, shooting quick assertiveness when she presses her crossed palms onto the table. Your name leaves her lips as a clear sign of hope. “She was the closest companion to the King and has been since this war started. It is only right for her to continue her husband’s intentions and plans.” 

“And what plans did the King have?” A pompous statement coming from her second son, which surprised you as well. Aemond was known for his restrained nature however it seems as days passed, he was slowly losing his grip on his sanity. “I am the closest heir the King has. Would it not be I who rules in his stead?” In the turn of the tides, the room is divided upon their suggestions. You can tell by the wary looks the lords hold with each other. However, you have been grateful for Alicent’s support regardless of the cold shoulder she has given you previously. 

“You are not fit, Prince Aemond,” Your fingers slide and take hold of the marble ball in front of you. The weight of the object pleasantly gives you a boost of poise to look him in his one good remaining eye. “The King’s line is still secured for my son, Meagor will become the next heir. But he is young so for the time being, I am naturally the next in line to come to his stead. As his wife and Queen, I should have a say as well.” 

It’s what Aegon would’ve wanted.

[lymtw]

The Morning After

(Toji and His Shy Girl)

Toji dreamt of you after the events that occurred between you and him the night before. The dream was vivid, testing his ability to differentiate between reality and a sleep induced scenery.

You were right there in front of him, beautiful as always, in a dress he's never seen you wear before, but for whatever reason, you couldn't hear him as he called for you. You sat at a table in a cafe, looking around as you waited for, what he pieced together to be him, with his jacket being draped on the empty chair in front of you and all. You wore a weary expression. One that didn't suit your usually soft features. The sight pulled at Toji's heartstrings, especially when he saw you turn around in your seat as if you were expecting him to return any second now.

It was torture watching how your foot tapped away and the way your arms were crossed enough to make it seem like you were hugging yourself. He was right there, only a few feet away from being able to hold you, but his biggest dilemma was being unable to move from where he was. He was left to helplessly watch as you continued your self soothing methods. It was agony in its purest form.

After a few more minutes of waiting, you stood up from your seat, looking more defeated than he's ever seen you before. You grabbed his jacket off the empty chair and headed towards the exit. Toji never stopped calling for you, even as your hand reached for the door handle.

Toji woke up the second you opened the door in his dream and immediately searched for you on the bed, wanting to have you as close to him as possible. Was this the universe's way of communicating your remaining insecurity to him? He's done so much to show you he loves you. You got him to comfortably say those three heavy words. He's patient with you, he comforts you, he takes care of you mentally and physically. How is it that he still deserves to be played like that in his head, when he's so sure he could spend the rest of his life making sure you're okay? He felt utterly traitorous for putting an imaginary version of you through that.

You were far on your side of his bed, your back turned to him as you slept. This wasn't the position you fell asleep in. He was holding you the whole night, so he wonders how you even broke out of his arms.

Toji scoots towards the center of the bed, just enough so that he's able to wrap an arm around your waist to pull you back towards him. You hum, slightly disturbed by the abrupt movement and the pressure of being scooped back into his hold. He kisses the nape of your neck, the feeling of your warm skin against his lips bringing him some comfort after the tricks his brain played on him. You presumably went back to sleep, the sound of your light breathing beckoning him to follow suit. Luckily, he didn't dream of anything this time. He would rather have that than dream of something as horrendous as the last one.

Once again, he woke up before you. It was nine o'clock and you still showed signs of slumber, despite him not actually being able to see your face. His arm remained wrapped around your waist, his hand steadily rising and falling as it rested on your stomach. Toji knew you were tired, and he also knew that if it were up to you, you'd sleep until midday, but he wanted you to be awake with him already. He missed you, as his arms kept your body pinned to his. He just wanted to hear you talk and start on his daily privilege of making you nervous with the dumb things he says.

You stir and he takes this as an opportunity to slowly start waking you up.

"Ma," he says, lowly, before you settle. He rubs his hand over your stomach, moving his palm back and forth as he calls for you again with the same volume. "Wake up, mama."

Toji's voice and touch gently pulls you out of sleep. Your eyes flutter open but your vision remains bleary until you blink a couple times. He feels your body tremble when you reach your arms in front of you and stretch to your capability in his hold. The tiniest groan leaves you, as the tension in your muscles is released and your arms return to their previous position—curled into your chest.

"Biiig stretch," he says, under his breath, not expecting to hear your giggle on the other side. "Oh? You're awake?" He asks, innocently, like he didn't lure you into consciousness. "Well, let me get a look at that pretty face, doll."

You sigh and sluggishly roll over to face Toji. Your hair is a mess and you have eye boogers crusted in the inner corners of your eyes, but he couldn't give a single-

"Why are you up so early?" you ask, quietly. You smile, lazily, and squint with unadjusted eyes at the sunlight that shines through the curtains in Toji's room.

He's crazy about you. He thinks—no, he knows he would raise absolute hell if anything or anyone ever tried to come between you and him. You're just one person, and yet you're the equivalent of the entire world in the palm of his hand.

"Promise you won't laugh?" He offers a soft smile, slowly reaching towards your eyes to remove the small clusters that litter the corners of them.

You let out a small laugh at the gesture—a habit you developed because of how nervous he constantly makes you. His focus on you broke your composed bearing for a couple seconds. You blinked with clearer eyes once he retracted his hand. "Sorry. I promise I won't laugh," you utter, sincerity in your expression and tone.

He lets out a small breath through his nose. His hand travels from your sleep worn features to the hairs that stick up all over the place on your head. He smooths them down as much as he can before setting his gaze back on your face.

"I don't even know if it'll make sense. At least not in the way I explain it to you. Barely made sense to me and I dreamt it."

"I'll do my best to understand," you assure. "Dreams are weird. I already have a head start knowing this."

He grins at your optimism. "Yeah. You're so right about that, baby."

He went on to explain the dream to the best of his ability. He described your expressions, your nervous mannerisms, the way he was watching you and calling for you to no avail.

Toji observed your face, noticing that your expression was treading towards the same one you held in his dream. It's a dream for a reason. It's not real. But, if it's not real, why is your serene expression wilting?

"That's not me, baby." He swiftly pulls one of your hands into both of his, as if catching you before you could spiral into one of your overthinking bouts. He wouldn't just let you free fall like that. "I want you here, remember? I need you with me."

The sight of you nodding accompanied by that lighthearted smile on your face, allowed him to breathe again. He kisses your knuckles, and smiles as he realizes it's the first gesture of the day that brings color to your cheeks. He thinks about how it was never hard for him to figure out that he loved you. As time went by, his love for you grew into a wholehearted, irreversible force. He has long accepted that his attachment to you can't be undone.

You on the other hand weren't sad because this dream of his seemed like some sort of foreshadowing of the future. You were sad because Toji seemed borderline distraught as he recounted the first time he felt entirely useless to you. You've never doubted the amount of love he holds for you. You simply can't when all this time he's been so gentle with your heart.

"Well, that's enough to make me never wanna sleep again," he jokes.

"That's insane." Your brows furrow, slightly. "Maybe it's because i'm here."

"Now, that's insane." He sighs. "It's just a coincidence, doll. It had nothing to do with you sleeping next to me." He sets a hand down on your hip, suppressing the urge to push up the material of the shirt he lent you, to feel your bare skin. You can feel his fingers playing with the hem, lifting it and wrapping it around his fingers. His knuckles graze your skin, a light sensation that makes your blood run cold and your heart thump a little faster. Toji can visibly see the tension surface.

"How are you feeling after last night?" He pushes, knowing this conversation will probably make you a little jumpy.

"Um..." you start but fail to progress with the response. A nervous laugh leaves you when you look at Toji. He was right. You're blushing, all flustered over the memory of him making you his that way for the first time.

"Alright, alright." He chuckles, knowing you won't be able to put it into words on your own. "Let me rephrase that for you. Does anything hurt?"

You respond through a fit of giggles. "Just some soreness in my legs and..." you trail off.

"And?" He digs, both with his words and his thumbs as he massages your clothed hip.

"And, um..." you look at him in silence for a few seconds, fighting off a nervous smile when you become all too aware of his intense eye contact. "Mm-mm, never mind." You shake your head, not wanting to elaborate due to the fresh feeling of embarrassment provided in your chest.

"Doll, where else?" Toji prompts. He doesn't want to be left hanging on this, especially if it means the beginnings of you suffering in silence for his sake.

"I don't wanna say it. It's embarrassing, Toji."

"Does it hurt between your legs?" He asks, and he instantly assumes he's correct because you immediately shrink under his gaze and attempt to hide under the blanket. Toji pulls down your defense and continues to observe your flustered face. You're bright red. Warm, too, as he runs his cool knuckles over your cheeks. "There's no need to feel embarrassed about it, baby. I would've figured that out all on my own."

"That's so... ugh, stop it," you whine, the sound foreign to Toji's ears. You have a hurricane of butterflies in your stomach. You bring up your other hand and cover your eyes, no longer able to withstand the look on Toji's face. He's wearing this confident smirk as he tries not to chuckle at your youth-like bashfulness.

"Stop that." He wraps his hand around the back of yours and pulls it down, not letting it go as he drags it into his personal bubble, like he's confiscating it from you. "Don't cover your face, doll. I'm trying to look at you."

"I look a mess, Toji," you say, voice strained as you try to tug your hands out of his grip. You can see he's not even using that much strength to keep your hands secured, but the second you manage to slip one of your fingers out of his grasp, he collects it again and tightens his grip just a little more.

"You've got a twisted definition for messy. It's much different from mine." He grins when you huff and give up on trying to get your hands back from him. "You just look like a sleepy princess to me." Your frustration seems to quickly subside, a giggle chiming out of you, which in turn makes Toji smile more. "There you go, mama." He scoots closer, eliminating any space between you and him so that he can kiss you all over your face. "That's what I wanna see," he murmurs into your cheek at the sight of your smile and the sound of your warm laughter. "Know what else I want?"

"Hmm?" The remainder of your giggles spill as he murmurs his next sentence.

"Your taste... on my tongue." He mixes his kisses with the words, as if they're a chaser for the strong sound of the vulgarity his words hold.

"What?" You laugh at the way he presses his nose into your cheek, but your heart races at the possibility of having heard him correctly.

"You heard me, pretty girl. That little blush confirms it." He smirks, noticing your shift from steadiness to light squirming under his attention. "I'm craving you," he says, as if intentionally pouring gasoline onto a fire.

"Craving... me?" You ask. The neediness between your legs was increasing with every second that he watched you. It was his tone and the volume in which he spoke and just everything about him that had you folding, willingly bending to his will.

"Mhm. Wanna eat you up, baby. Make you cum a couple times before we go out for breakfast." His hand releases one of yours and goes to your waist. You're too flustered to realize that your hand is free, anyway. "What are you thinking?"

"Please," you utter. Your shaky fingertips graze his chest and your heart challenges itself to see if it can keep you alive with how fast it beats.

"Please, what, doll?" His own fingers trace little lines on your waist through his shirt. The languid strokes make goosebumps rise on your arms and legs.

"Please... um..." you start, immediately feeling that wave of embarrassment that keeps you from verbalizing what you want. You want him, and you're frustrated by your inability to get that confirmation out. "Um..."

"Please... buy me breakfast?" He jokes, in an attempt to help you relax. "Please...?" he repeats, slowly luring out what's repeatedly being killed and revived on your lips.

You giggle, a quick blurt of, "Okay, you can do it. I'll let you taste... me. Just... just, please" following.

"Fuck yeah. That was good, baby," he praises, rewarding you with another kiss, this time to your lips. "Gonna take really good care of you, okay?" He says, to which you silently nod.

He takes the time to really make you want him. His lips don't take any part of you for granted, with the way he spends so much time appreciating your neck and chest. If he didn't leave enough marks on you the night before, he made up for it then. He enjoyed the way you grabbed onto his arms when he sucked on your delicate skin, squeezing when his wet lips brushed on the column of your neck.

"What's under the shirt?" He asks, his voice raspy with contained lust for you. He wants to paw at the little peaks that protrude through your shirt.

"You already know," you respond, a small laugh flowing past your lips. "You've already seen all of me. Just last night," you mumble.

"And you were stunning. Absolutely perfect. Can I see your pretty body again, sweetheart?"

You don't hesitate any longer, despite the rush of nerves that courses through you. You trust him. He said he's going to take care of you. "Okay, you can look."

"You're too good to me." He swipes a thumb over your rosy cheek before his hands go down to the hem of your shirt.

It's inevitable. The sight of the wet patch on the front of your panties, is inevitable. It was like his eyes were magnetized to it the second he started rolling up your shirt. He couldn't mention it yet. For your sake, but for his own, as well. The sight gave his dick a heartbeat, and he knew damn well that if he said a word about it, he would cave and start devouring you, immediately.

He felt like he was being graced with the presence of a goddess as he continued to roll your shirt up. It was miles of delicate, palpable, and kissable skin being revealed by the second. "Holy fuck, doll," he says, ogling every inch of the breathtaking sight before him. "Baby, look at you." His palms grazed over your nipples as he rolled the shirt just above your chest, and you had to use every ounce of your composure to keep your breathing at a normal rate.

He grins at the sight of your stomach rising and falling out of rhythm, due to his unwavering attention. It was like you forgot how to breathe steadily or like you were manually trying to create the steady rhythm instead of naturally letting it happen.

"Do I really deserve that reaction?" You ask, cowering behind the small barrier of your bundled shirt.

"Yes. If anything, that was an under reaction because what the fuck, doll?" His hands are drawn to your skin, the rough warmth of them cups your waist. He bows his head and starts many trails of kisses up your stomach, starting right above the elastic of your panties. His hold on you prevents you from squirming too much beneath his touch. He can visibly see the quiver of your stomach as he inches closer to the bottoms of your breasts. "So soft, and delicate." He blows on the bottom of your right one, and watches as your nipples harden, before uttering a sultry, "Sensitive."

"God..." you desperately whimper. "Please. Please, touch me," you say, light, shuddered breaths brushing past your lips.

He kisses the bottom of your left breast, the kiss becoming heated as the amount of his saliva grew on your skin. "Sensitive, sensitive girl," he purrs, anticipating your reaction to his wandering hand. Your panties are soaked as his thumb just barely grazes your slit, thin transparent lines connecting him to you before they snap way too quickly. Toji himself cannot escape the mess of desire, with his boxer briefs feeling damper with pre-cum by the second. His touch is barely there, but you think you'll cum if his fingers ghost around for too long.

He stops. He knows the limit of teasing you before you give him the big reaction he works you up for. You're already shaking with just his tongue swirling around your nipples. Those crumbs of added stimulation down there would lure out your orgasm onto his fingertips, not his mouth, like he's been patiently waiting for.

"T-Toji," you gasp, the air quickly vanishing from your lungs again with a needy ring to it. "I-I'll cum, i'll-" you let out a broken moan, one that makes Toji's dick twitch, a low, muffled groan leaving him as he continues to mouth at your chest. "Please."

"Baby, save it," he hums into your stiffened nipple, kissing it once more before letting up. "Be good and save it for my mouth." The arousal slowly settles, a bittersweet moment for you as all the pleasure slowly dies, leaving you with a dull throb between your legs. You make the sweetest noises as he follows those same trails he made on your stomach earlier, kissing and occasionally biting, just to see the way your body jolts at the sudden sting. A low chuckle rumbles through him, but he's kissing the area like he's mending you, imbuing extra warmth into it.

Then he reaches the elastic band of your underwear, and his heart begins to resist his methods of calming down. "Oh fuck," he utters, like the sight is unreasonable. "Your panties are ruined, mama. For me?"

You nod, silently, glossy eyes meeting feral, moss-colored ones. You feel a pang of embarrassment course through you as he just inspects the aftermath of his very effective touch. Even the lightest touches from him can turn you into putty.

"All mine," he murmurs as he kisses up your thighs. His hands knead your hips as he creates more paths on your skin. His kisses begin to leave color behind, real physical trails that lead him to his own private heaven. "All of this? Mine. Fucking mine." He sounds fazed—delirious over you.

He had one taste. One taste. He licked a single stripe through your clothed folds, and all hell broke loose within him. He was visibly desperate in the way he pulled down your underwear and tossed them aside so fast. He immediately buried his face into your cunt, groans leaving so carelessly as he proceeded to devour you like this was the deciding factor of whether he was worthy of you or not. He's shamelessly rutting into the mattress, heavy breaths released through his nose as he drowns himself in you.

"Toji! T-Toji," you moan, rapid breaths fleeing your lungs as he continues to enjoy you, undisturbed. He revokes your chance to even wonder if you taste any good. Despite him being rendered completely speechless by you, he's confident that you know he's been driven insane. "Oh- gonna cum... gonna-" you whimper, your chest heaving as he lures your pleasure out. Unbeknownst to you, so is he.

You cry out his name, the sound so sinful yet serene to his ears. Your melodies enticed him into looking at you, and even though he knew it was game over the second he got a glimpse of your pretty face, he took the risk and inevitably unraveled. It was those blush-y cheeks, and your glossy lips, and the small pinch between your brows, that had his hips stuttering and his load being blown, violently, into his boxers. The rush of pleasure only made him more fervent in his need for you, his wet lips gliding through your folds in a sloppy, desperate attempt to get even more of your taste in his mouth. Your sounds of pleasure have him rocking his hips into the mattress, despite how sensitive his cock is. You're oblivious to what just happened, but those deeper, more frequent groans from him make your orgasm that much more intense.

Toji slows down when your thighs begin to tremble in his hold. He relishes in the languid licks that connect his tongue to you by weak strings of your cum. After a few more seconds, you can't handle even the slowest pace of his tongue, as it continues to gently lap at your clit despite all your juices having gushed out, already. Your thighs shut around Toji's head and he recognizes that as you tapping out, so he stops.

The sound of heavy breathing fills the room, both of you allowing your levels of adrenaline to simmer down. Toji places a couple wet kisses on your thigh and rests his cheek on it after. His hand squeezes your other thigh as an act of comfort.

"You alright, mama? Kinda quiet up there." He drops his hand lower and draws a line from your knee and down your shin with his index finger.

"Good... I'm good," you mumble. The lazy grin on your face shines through your tone, which immediately captures Toji's attention because of its rarity. He tilts his head up and catches you in the middle of sighing with satisfaction, before deciding not to waste another second just lying there when he could be watching you up close. He goes up your body until he's face to face with you again. Immediately, his gaze is received with a giggle from you.

"What's that little giggle about? Hm?" He grins, and leans down to peck your lips, which seems to lure more laughter from you.

"I missed your face," you confess, your eyes flitting between his eyes and his lips, like you're anticipating another gentle, barely there kiss from him.

"You wanna look at my mug?" His eyes soften, despite his self deprecating way of wording the question. You respond with the sweetest smile, your dulcet voice uttering all the reassurance needed in the span of three words:

"Yeah, I do."

He fell that much harder, even after all the time you've spent together. When Toji looks at you, he sees light, comfort, and despite your nervous habit of fumbling the words you want to say to him, your voice is still one of the most hauntingly beautiful things about you. He could be having the most terrible day—one that seems like he's being tested to see how much misery he can handle— and all he has to do is call you. The sound of your voice stills the shakiness of his hands, calms his breathing, and overall envelops him in a blanket of security that unwinds the bad energy that is coiled around him like a suffocating serpent.

"Good, because I wanna watch you, baby. I'll give you all my attention." He missed your face just as much. "Think you can handle me going inside? I'll be so careful. Promise."

You reach your hands out towards his face, beckoning him closer to you. Without hesitation, he comes closer, grinning when his nose almost bumps into yours. Your warm hands cup his face and you pull him in even closer, until your lips meet the vertical cicatrix that runs through the corner of his lips. You're planting multiple kisses on it, through the blend of fear and love and devotion swirling through you. He holds your shaky hands still on his cheeks and allows you to take everything you want out of this. By the time you're done, he feels like he has sugar dusted on the corner of his lips. "You're okay," you murmur, before separating your lips from the tattered skin. It's for him, and nothing or no one else has anything to do with it. "Let's do it."

"You're gonna kill me with all that sweetness, doll," he responds, his heart racing in his chest. Evidently, he was completely enamored by you. He loved the concentration that etched into your features as you kissed the line that marred his face, like it was something you couldn't mess up, in fear of him never letting you do it again. He would, though. A million times more, if it means that he's allowed to be that close to you every time. He could never push you away when you attempt to be openly affectionate with him. He takes every crumb he can get and holds his palm out for more, every time.

His lips center on yours, your taste still somewhat lingering on his tongue. You can feel his tent brushing against your cunt, the fabric of his underwear providing a teasing amount of friction. Your quiet hums and breaths prove that he's getting to you. To Toji's surprise, your hips were subtly chasing more friction.

"You want it?" He asks, dragging his lips down to your chin. "It's yours, mama, but you have to tell me what you want."

"Please," you blurt, instinctively.

"Yeah, good girl," he coos. "You know how much I love it when you say that, but I'm gonna need you to give me more. Please, what?"

You were doing so well with managing the blush on your face, until then. "P-Please," you try again.

"Uh-huh. You have the politeness down, but, what else? Your begging shouldn't be free. What do you want, my sweet girl?"

You want to shrink beneath the gaze that accompanies his patient silence, but instead you keep trying for him. "Can you- Will you- um... I-I want you inside, please?" You feel uncomfortably warm after getting the words out.

Toji chuckles at your attempt to minimize the vulgarity of your words. "Good. That was perfect, doll."

Embarrassment seeps into every sinew of your being, but there's nothing like the feeling of your heart plummeting into your stomach when you see him looking at you with that much sugarcoated lust. He's sitting back, working his boxers off, yet his eyes never leave your face. The smile he wears communicates 'I got you' in the most loving way, but those greens...

You prop yourself up on your elbows to curiously look at the area he just revealed, only to see the smallest, white glob on his length. Did he...? No. If so, when?

"Shit," he says, when he spots what's got you in a trance. "Thought I cleaned it all up." He laughs off the small wave of embarrassment as he grabs the dirtied garment he wore seconds ago to wipe it off.

You let yourself fall back onto the mattress, flustered at the image of it all. You snap out of it when you feel warm hands begin to ride up your thighs.

"You...?" you say, emptily, though your inquiry was obvious.

"Was hard not to," he admits, hands still kneading your pillowy thighs. "You did that to me." His hands reach for your breasts now, thick fingers maneuvering over your nipples before taking you whole into his palms. "You just taste so sweet." He squeezes. "You were dripping like honey on my tongue."

"Toji..." you say, so low it could be a hum. You wished the small barrier of your rolled up shirt had remained standing, but you knew it would be brought down by him at some point anyway. You decided to pull the shirt off completely. You felt more free, afterwards.

"Aw, look at you. You're ready for me, huh?" He gives you a smug smirk. "Ooh, look at that little smile," he says, loving how it evolves into a bigger smile. "Yeah, i'm ready for you, too."

He releases your chest, and positions himself comfortably between your legs. Even with this only being the second time he's making love to you, he's certain he'll never get tired of that bright sparkle in your eyes when he's running his tip through your folds. He's making a mess on you, smearing all the dribbling pre-cum onto your slit. You're trying—really trying to hold his gaze as he teases you, but it's so hard when you know how vulnerable you are. You feel like your heart is gonna explode just by glancing at him, but when he's looking at you and grinning like he's truly enjoying you, you fear you might end up just coughing up the organ due to the irritation it causes in your chest.

"Tell me to stop and i'll stop," he utters, breathily, as he slowly sinks some of his length into you. He leans forward to be closer to you, and to be able to watch you for signs of discomfort. Your face looks so pretty. You blink and slightly tilt your head in wonder of how he got inside you so quickly.

He groans, a chuckle of blatant disbelief following as he carefully submerges more of himself inside your velvety walls. He often wonders what good deed it took for him to get you. Things are so simple with you. At times, he feels like maybe there's more peace in your company than he deserves. He knows he could never hate you. Never. Not when your eyes twinkle like you stole and kept stars from the night before and are using them as a visual offering to him. He won't accept the thought of him putting them there, this time.

"God- No, I don't mean to. I'm sorry." You sniffle, the back of your hands coming up to wipe your tears. "I'm happy and- and i'm comfortable, I promise."

"It's okay, mama. Am I hurting you? Does it not feel right?"

You shake your head 'no' to all of it. "I'm just... so happy," you mumble. Your breath comes out in a small shudder. You feel so safe and loved around him. It's hard to contain the emotions, even during a time that's supposed to be sensual and arousing.

Toji's heart was pounding. He was so scared. The thought of hurting you... He can't. The dream he had was enough hurt to last him a really long time, even if it wasn't real.

He sighs, a smile curling onto his lips as he reaches for your wrists and gently pulls them away. He looks into your eyes and relocates those stars again before he leans down and peppers your red, dampened cheeks with kisses.

"Ready?" He murmurs into your cheek, to which you respond with a small "mhm".

With that, you're both back on track. Toji pushes the rest of himself in, both of you releasing your share of breaths as you relish in the feeling of being as close as can be. He picks up a rhythm that's perfect. It started out slow but worked up to a pace that wasn't too fast or too sluggish. It was comfortable for both of you.

"Fuck..." he pants. "You're so pretty, doll." He wants to hold you so tight, maybe crush you a little bit in his arms. "Put your hands on me. Don't be afraid to touch me, baby," he says, noticing the way your nails dig into your palms again, like the night before. He would gladly take a look at your scuffed up hands again, afterwards, but that would be dismissive of his desire to be caressed by you. To want to feel your hands over his arms, his shoulders, and just have another source of proof that he is in your arms just as much as you are in his.

You continue to prove your angelic status to him by giving him the perfect amount of your comforting touch. Your knuckles ride up the warm expanse of his arms until they reach his biceps. Your hands unbend from their halfway fist positions, and wrap around the muscly forms. His skin is soft, despite the appearance communicating the contrary. He's nicked and grazed with scars on some areas and on other areas the scars are larger and more frequent. You love him, so you aren't squeamish at the sight or frightened by these scars, but it doesn't tap at your heart when you realize that it's difficult to find a blank space.

"T-Toji..." you call, meekly. He's abusing your neck all over again. His lips are sucking and biting on the scraps of unsavored skin that he didn't get to last night, as well as polishing over your already marked up skin. All you get is a low hum and the sound of him breathing rapidly through his nose, as a response from him. He's repeatedly prodding into that sensitive spot within you. You feel hot, like you'll orgasm if things keep going this way. You're a little nervous because you're not sure if he's there yet.

"Fuck," he groans. "Feeling good?" He can't believe the stinging sensation he feels of your nails on his shoulder blades. You can't respond with anything other than bitten back moans that come off as whimpers, and the smallest hitches of your breath. "Aw, are you gonna cum, mama?"

"Mm-mm. No," you shake your head and dig your heels into the mattress.

"You sure?" He says beneath your ear. He can feel you the way you're frequently clenching around him. "If I look at your pretty face, right now, you won't cum within seconds?" You give yourself away when you almost tear his skin at the sound of those words. "Yeah, I know, doll," he grunts at the feeling of you clenching so tightly around him. He pulls away from your neck and grins when he sees how you're falling apart. "I know you like being watched by me." You feel like your heart is in your ears, rather than your ribcage, with how loud it echoes on your head.

His dick throbs mercilessly at the sight before him. Your reddened cheeks, the tears that brim your lower lash line, the quick rise and fall of your chest—he could practically see your heart trying to leap out. "Let me see it, princess," he rasps, his own resolve rapidly crumbling, like an unstable sandcastle. He puts both of his hands to use. One goes above your pelvis, his thumb outstretched to rub your clit, and the other glides up your waist and splays across your breast.

It's overwhelming. His touch is making you burn up. You can feel it coming closer as your eyes rake over the handsome features of his face, saving the best for last. The second you look at his seemingly calm eyes, you snap. Your entire body trembles as you gasp for air like you've been punched in the chest. Your toes curl and your back arches in a way that makes your stomach tense so hard that you can already anticipate the soreness that will come.

You're crying out Toji's name and trembling beneath him, while he tries his best to composedly watch you bear everything he offers you. You really are fragile. Even your voice is fragile when you're vocalizing your pleasure, the cutest little whimpers and hiccups freed from your chest for him.

He can't hold off any longer. He can't even find it in himself to be ashamed for how strongly his pleasure is linked to yours. It all comes down to you and the way you love him. The way you sometimes hide your mouth behind your fingers when you giggle, the way you glance at him on and off when you crave his attention, the kind smile on your face when he swoops in and steals the perfect bite of food you set up for yourself, the blush on your face when he makes you nervous-

He groans, loudly. Loud enough to make you jolt. Partly from the volume, the other part from the surprise of the warmth that shot into you so abruptly. It was the fact that he didn't have to imagine that last part, that brought on his release. The image was right in front of him. Your rosy cheeks, your bashfulness, the contradicting feelings of being nervous when he watches you, yet wanting him to watch you. It's all there for his eyes to consume.

Your back is against the mattress again, and you're writhing, now. He picks up on your sensitivity, noticing the way your thighs try to squeeze his hips and jerk away from the overflow of stimulation.

"That's it," he pants. "That's all, mama." He stills his movements at the sound of your quiet little grunts. "Good girl," he praises, a sigh of satisfaction following.

The room goes quiet as both of you try to regulate your breathing again. Toji won't separate his hands from your body, even after pulling out. He has one hand massaging your hip while the other one is set on your stomach. He likes rubbing and gently squishing your stomach, a lot. You have no complaints about his need to keep his hands on you, when it's like you're receiving more praise from him, or like he's trying to soothe you.

You giggle. It's the first sound made since you both finally caught your breaths. Toji pauses the movement of his hands and looks at you. You lure out a grin of his own with the way you're beaming.

"What's that?" He asks, focused on you.

"It's so quiet," your voice is unstable as you try to keep in your laughter. "You could probably hear my stomach growling."

He wants to keep you forever. When that happens, he'll use up a sliver of all that time to continuously wonder how someone like you ever crawled into his arms and found refuge in them.

"Well, that's not good. Can't have you running on fumes, can I, doll?" You laugh as you sit up and pull his shirt over your head, again, to cover up. He follows your lead and pulls the bed sheets around his lower body. "We'll go out to eat after we freshen up, alright?" You smile and nod in response, before sitting next to him on the edge of the bed in search of your underwear.

"Have you seen my-"

"These?" He holds your panties by the edges of the waistband.

"Yeah..." Your eyes widen, slightly. "...those."

"They're adorable, doll," he says, dropping them into his lap and feeling up the texture. "Can I have them?" He asks, as if he wasn't going to stash them away, had you not asked about them.

"Um..." You feel that familiar warmth resurfacing on your face.

Toji grins at the way you look at your underwear intently, like you're embarrassed by him casually holding them. "How about we trade? You keep my shirt and I keep this cute little piece of you."

"Want me to wash them, first?" You ask, thinking of what the garment went through a little while ago.

"Nah, that's okay," he says, before he swiftly pulls you into his side. You felt like a stuffed animal, the way he just moved you towards him like you were weightless. His chin rests on your head and he closes his eyes, like what he's about to say is the most honest and wholehearted thing he could ever say to you.

"I'm happy, too, you know?"

[starmocha]

to: my true love [Sylus/Reader ★ 1680 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Sylus receives a special surprise in his study. A/N: The Sagittarius in me told me to do something impulsive again, and I lowkey already regret it lol So…a mini series of twelve days of Christmas/winter-themed standalone ficlets with all four LIs (3 mini stories for each; no Caleb, sorry, I want to wait until I’m more familiar with his character before I write him). This lowkey may be me trying to find joy in Christmas again lol ヾ(✿˶◡‿◡)ゞ Tag list: @miudle @alfredosaws @nezukoo-channn @voidsylus @rose-tinted-kalopsia 【 request to be added 】

You were going to kill Luke and Kieran, you decided decisively, as you stood outside Sylus’ study, your hand wrapped around the doorknob, trembling uncontrollably and filled with anxiety worse than any other instances in your life.

A bet was a bet.

And you lost.

Tremendously.

They must have cheated, you thought, positive that those no-good tricksters definitely rigged the card game. Of course, you knew you were also a complete dumbass for ever having faith that residents of the N109 Zone would ever play fair in anything.

You were still going to kill them.

Knock-knock.

Your fragile heart practically burst out of your chest when you heard the knocking. Immediately, your head whipped up, completely mortified to see Luke looming over you and cheerfully rapping against the door with the back of his hand while you were silently fuming just seconds ago. Even though he was wearing his mask, you were positive he was sporting the most nefarious smirk ever.

“Come in,” Sylus’ calm, deep voice called out.

You gasped, feeling a hand over yours. You looked to your other side just as Kieran ‘helped’ you opened the door, and before you knew it, both twins gleefully shoved you into Sylus’ study before slamming the door shut. You stumbled forward, barely catching your balance before you realized what had happened.

“Who is it—”

Sylus looked up and paused. His expression didn’t appear to change, staying neutral just as always, but perhaps someone with a keener eyesight would notice the gleam of intrigue in his scarlet eyes the moment he had laid his sight on you.

You kept your eyes lowered as you stood in Sylus’ study, dressed in a bright red sleeveless Christmas dress with white fur trimming that lined around the bottom of the skirt and over your bust. Around your middle was a thick black belt and atop your head was a matching Santa Claus hat, its end dangling over your downcast face. You stared down at the black knee-high boots you wore, feeling completely mortified. You could practically feel your soul leaving your body as you felt Sylus’ intense stare on you.

“J-Jinglegram,” you greeted meekly.

You flinched when you heard Sylus’ amused chuckles.

“I-I see,” he responded, a hint of bafflement heard in his tone, but overall, he seemed delighted.

You, on the other hand, wanted to die. Preferably instantly.

Sylus cleared his throat, his voice sounding extra cordial than normal. “So…what is a ‘jinglegram’?”

You whimpered pathetically, nearly glowering when you could have sworn you heard the bastard twins snickering outside the room. Clearing your throat, you started to sing very stiffy: “On…the first day of…Christmas…my true love gave to me…”

You peeked up and you felt your face had instantly turned crimson. Sylus was leaning against the armrest of his chair, his fist held over his mouth as if he was stifling his laughter, but his eyes betrayed his amusement. They were practically sparkling with delight.

“…a partridge in a pear tree…” you finished glumly.

He clapped, seemingly encouraging you to continue. You felt a horrendous knot in your stomach, but you soldiered on.

“On the second day of Christmas…my true love—”

You fumbled, catching Sylus’ eyes brightening even more as you sang this one particular verse.

“…gave to me, two turtle doves,” Sylus helped you with his unique singing voice.

“…And a partridge in a pear tree,” you both finished together in a cacophony of mismatched notes and melody.

You winced, unsure if it was because of how mortified you were, or of how the lack of harmony between the two of you could easily be used as a form of torture. Not caring to find out, you quickly whirled around, intending on bolting right out of Sylus’ study and seeking a hole you could throw yourself into and just die in peace.

But Sylus had other plans.

“Not so fast, Miss Hunter.”

Dark red and black misty tendrils coiled around your waist and lifted you into the air with ease. You squeaked in shock as you were carried across the room and before you knew it, you landed with an undignified “oof” in Sylus’ lap.

Your hat fell, covering your eyes, but before you could react, Sylus had already helped you readjusted it. You looked up timidly, seeing his face full of joy. The way he was laughing and smiling almost reminded you of the night he and you had set free that little white dove he had cared for.

“So cute,” he murmured, almost as if he was speaking to himself, and you blushed. His thumb glided over your shiny red-glossed plump lips, admiring the way they trembled, almost as if they were beckoning him to steal a kiss or two, but he restrained himself. He continued in his soft, steady tone, “What have I done to receive this charming…‘jinglegram’?”

“Um…nothing…” you mumbled, feeling the heat spreading from your cheeks to the rest of your body. You squirmed a little, but Sylus held you firmly in place, not allowing you to leave his lap for even an inch. You looked down, seeing how one of his hands was absently caressing your thigh. You continued miserably, “…I lost a bet.”

“A bet?”

“To Luke and Kieran.”

“Ah.” Everything seemed to click into place, and Sylus leaned forward, burying his face into your hair as he laughed. “Perhaps I should give those two a Christmas bonus…”

You frowned. Pulling away, you turned to look at him, your faces just mere inches apart. “Do criminal organizations do Christmas bonuses?”

Sylus shook his head. “Of course not, sweetie,” he answered, “But…I think this warrant some sort of…rewards for them.”

“Rewards? For humiliating me?” you demanded, irate.

You gasped as Sylus lifted your chin lightly and kissed you deeply, his earlier self-control forgotten. He chuckled when you unconsciously gave in, returning his kiss with equal passion. He parted, but he pecked another kiss to your cheek. “Are you humiliated? But you look absolutely adorable in this outfit.”

Your face felt hotter. “You’re enjoying this way too much,” you griped.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed in agreement, unashamed. “Now…isn’t…‘Mrs. Claus’ here missing a ‘Mr. Claus’?”

Your stomach lurched at the implications in his teasing words. You covered your face with both hands. “No…no…no…we are not doing this!”

You felt the hat on your head yanked off. You looked up and saw Sylus had donned the hat he had just swiped from you. Plastered across his stupidly handsome face was the most insufferable smirk ever. He was completely enthralled by this entire ludicrous situation. You were definitely going to kill Luke and Kieran.

“Now if I recall,” he began, his tone light and playful, “the song is far from over. We still have quite a few verses to get through, don’t we, sweetie?”

You gaped, not quite registering his words just now.

He…looked really good with this hat on his head. Very cute. Very, very cute.

Maybe with a matching bright red coat that would be fitted to his deliciously toned body, and a pair of pants that would highlight his juicy ass, he could pull off that look. Would...would Sylus be willing to have a bit of a stubble, you wondered, already imagining him with one, and his face nuzzling against you, feeling the prickly hair against your smooth, soft skin, and oh shit—

You were doing a horrendous job of hiding your feelings today, because Sylus immediately noticed your reaction, his teasing growing increasingly merciless.

“Now, sweetie, have you been a… ‘good girl’ this year?”

You flustered. “What are you—”

“Since you’re already sitting on my lap,” he said suggestively, “don’t you want to tell… ‘Santa’ what you want for this year?”

“You are such a prick.”

Sylus laughed. “Naughty, naughty,” he chided, giving your thigh a light smack and making you yelped in surprise.

“We are not doing this, Sylus!” you protested, face redder than your dress.

He shrugged and leaned back in his seat with a defeated sigh. “Very well,” he conceded, a hint of disappointment heard in his tone. He smiled at you half-heartedly before speaking, “You really are a good girl, aren’t you, Miss Hunter?”

You knew he had meant it genuinely this time, but you couldn’t help but felt something when he had called you a ‘good girl’. This was getting out of hand. Was this what those no-good twins wanted to happen? For you to be down bad for their boss. What on earth was their endgame—

Sylus was humming the earlier Christmas song again, the sound cutting your raving thoughts to a grinding halt. He smiled at you pleasantly, apparently unaware of your inner turmoil.

“On the third day of Christmas,” he ‘sang,’ his jovial tone hinting for you to join him. There was a noticeable pause, and Sylus gave you a gentle nod, silently encouraging you to pick up where he had left off.

You smiled helplessly, his genuine happiness spreading to you. “…my true love gave to me,” you continued.

“Three French hens / Two turtle doves,” you both sang together, half-laughing, before finishing strongly, “And a partridge in a pear tree!”

You slumped against him, giggling and forgetting your earlier embarrassment. Sylus’ arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to his body, the familiar, comforting warmth calming you instantly. You gazed up at him, an idea forming in your head.

“Sylus?”

“Hmm?” He peered down at you, his eyes meeting yours, and his smile soft and sweet.

“We should give the twins a fruitcake,” you said, smiling wickedly, elaborating, “For their ‘Christmas reward’.”

“Two fruitcakes,” he corrected you with a knowing smirk, “One for each mischievous twin.”

You leaned up and kissed him, “Ah, my ‘true love’ is correct.”

He stifled a chuckle, his face buried in your hair again, as he husked, “Then are you my Christmas present for this year?”

“I’m yours for always.”

“How cute,” he whispered, tightening his hold on you, and you stayed like that, humming the rest of the song softly as you enjoyed each other’s presence.

[mysticmoosenger]

thinking about a gojo that is horrendously down bad for his new girlfriend and a horny mess

on your first ever movie date gojo couldn’t focus on the movie. honestly… he couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t you. saying that he was obsessed with you would be an understatement. he had been waiting for a chance to take you out on a real date for years, ever since he first sat next to you in that dumb freshman year gen ed class.

once you found your seats gojo quickly realized that sitting through a 2 hour long movie just mere inches from each other was putting himself at risk for a heart attack. when he first accidentally brushed his hand against yours when reclining the seats he could have swore he got struck by lightening.

his problem only worsened when the lights dimmed and he was holding the shared popcorn for you both. you reached over, fully invested in the movie, not looking for where your hand was going. you had missed and brushed against his lower abs, barely noticing and just reaching back up to the bag. while you may not have noticed, gojo sure did.

it was getting difficult for him to conceal his massive hard on, just an hour in. he had just started to shift his focus towards a particularly drama filled scene when you had leaned over, “hey I’m really sorry I’m gonna run to the bathroom quick, let me know if I miss anything!!” you stood from your seat and shuffled through the small walkway in front of him. the addition of a great view of your ass at eye level worsened his situation even more.

while you were pretending to be a bit clueless, you had known at least some of what you were doing to torture the poor guy. you couldn’t help it, his big blue puppy dog eyes were too cute, and his blush was too enticing. the combination of him basically begging to fuck you and him having a massive crush on you was just too much fun.

dont worry though, after you made the first move in the parking lot he quickly had you riding him senseless in the backseat of his car. it really was worth the wait.

[readwritealldayallnight]

Hello, I love your writing and I'm so sorry to bother you but I'd like to request... it may sound stupid and feel free to ignore this, maybe I'm just venting. Could you do a ghost comforts reader about their hair. Went to the hair salon today and the hairdresser cut off 7inches of my hair 😭. I know it's been said many times before but I literally feel like someone clipped my angel wings. Haven't stopped crying ever since. Hope you're doing good :,)

You were meant to call Simon to come pick you up after your hair appointment was finished, but after the stylist finally spun you around in the chair to face the mirror, you decided you needed the almost 30 minute walk home to be alone with your thoughts

You didn’t want to make this into a big deal when you saw him, it was just hair after all, you could practically already hear his deep Manchester accent telling you that it would grow back in no time

But another part of you was feeling slightly heartbroken, having gone in to the salon for what you hoped would only be a trim, an inch or two off the ends, and instead walked out with an entirely new haircut, wondering if the hairdresser had even been paying attention when you specified you wanted just a small cut

You haven’t had hair this short in a long, long time. Long before you knew Simon. And while you doubt he would ever have anything negative to say about, especially once he sees how bothered you are by it, small part of you can’t help but to worry about what his reaction will be

You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, taking your mind off your pessimistic thoughts for a moment. Glancing at the screen, you see Simon has texted you

Si <3 : ‘Nearly done?’

You : ‘I’m almost home actually, decided to walk’

Si <3 : ‘???’

You : ‘You’ll see’

You : ‘:(‘

Turning the corner and spotting your building, you steady yourself with a deep breath, figuring it’ll be easier to just rip the bandaid off so to speak, and get this stupid reveal over with

Walking up to your front door with keys jingling in hand, you’re surprised when the door swings open before you even have a chance to find your right key, your mountain of a man evidently stood there waiting for you

“What are you doin’, walkin’ home for-” He cuts himself off when his eyes notice the change, irises darting from shoulder to shoulder, over your head again and again before landing on the sour expression on your face

“She took off so much more than I wanted.” You try not to literally whine as you squeeze past his hulking frame to slip into the flat, knowing he’ll be following right behind you. “It was only supposed to be a trim. Now I look-”

“Beautiful.” He cuts you off this time, your head whipping around to see if he’s truly making fun of you right now, but you find no trace of teasing or joking across his expression. Instead, you almost think you see the faintest tint of red creeping across his pale cheeks, his eyes constantly moving as they have trouble deciding where to land on you, taking in your new appearance in a way similar to someone admiring art work in a museum

“What?” You question, wondering if you’d misheard him. Or maybe the countless head injuries were finally catching up to him and he’d confused beautiful with horrendous

He takes a tentative step closer to you, reaching a hand out to slowly run his fingers across the newly cut ends of your hair

“You look beautiful, love. Don’t ya think?” He asks you, digits still gently playing with your locks

“I mean- not really, no. I didn’t want it this short.” You say, though your distaste for the cut is slowly diminishing as you witness just how much the man in front of you adores you

“Think it’s pretty.” He mutters, bringing his other hand up to join the exploration of your hair now. “Haven’t seen ya like this before.”

“You like it?” You ask timidly.

“Mhmm.” He hums in confirmation, stepping even closer to you now, coming around to stand behind you with his hands on your shoulders. “Makes it even easier to do this.” He adds, gently brushing your locks away from your neck before pressing a kiss as gentle as a butterfly below your ear, venturing his lips down tot he side of your neck, your collarbone, any skin his mouth can find

“I- I guess so.” You agree, slinking your own arm back to wrap around his neck, holding him closer to you. “Didn’t realize you’d like it. Was sure you were just gonna tell me ‘it’s hair, it grows back’.” He snorts at your weak attempt to mimic his voice, utterly butchering the accent. You can’t help but let out a small chuckle as well, feeling much lighter now than you did when the stylist first picked up their scissors.

“You’re a smart girl, lovey. Don’t need me tellin’ you that.” He replies, muscular arms coming to wrap around your middle, keeping you as close as he physically can. “You’ll need to show me how to write a review online though. They can’t have my girl coming home this sad and not expect consequences.”

First of all, thank you so much for the love and don’t you or anyone ever apologize for sending in requests or just ranting to me, I always love to hear from you

Second, I’m so sorry your haircut didn’t go the way you wanted :( that can be so tough, but hopefully this short lil drabble puts a smile on your face

Hope you’re doing well!

- M 🫶🏻

[supernatural-bias]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: let's misbehave—cole porter and others

↳ notes: the fact i don't even care for the show and this is my second fic. save me alastor. save me.

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• It had been something of a shock when you found out that the giant joke of a hotel up the street was housing one of your oldest friends

• Alastor and you had run into each other during one of his first years in hell. A time when people still felt brave enough to point and laugh at him on the street without fear of being slaughtered

• You weren’t anything important at the time. Not an overlord or anything of the sort; just a regular sinner that died unexpectedly ended up face first on the concrete. Nothing to bat an eye at, really

• But for some reason, Alastor had been curtious to you all the same. Maybe it was the apologetic tip of your head you offered after accidentally running into him, or perhaps something else. Whatever it may be, the two of you wasted no time becoming fast friends. As long as you didn't mind the gore or screams of terror that is.

• And decades later, there you were, knocking slowly on a grand front door to pay him a long overdue visit

• Charlie and the rest of the hotel guests had been positively floored when you showed up in modern clothes and an easy-going ‘hello’, looking nothing like any friend of the Radio Demon

• “There has to be something wrong with you!” Angel Dust exclaimed, peering down at you in a stripped pink suit as he stood slack jawed. “No way Al has a normal friend. I mean none of us do either, but Alastor??”

• You think they were just shocked that Alastor had a friend outside of other overlords. And one he wasn’t using to make a deal with, nonetheless

• Husk and Nifty were the only ones that seemed unaffected by you. Not surprising, considering that you had met them both on separate occasions

• It only took one look from Husk behind his bar before was hopping out of the booth, mumbling to you that he would go get his boss. You just chuckled as he left

• Alastor was quick to materialize from behind you mere seconds later, wearing one of his larger smiles

• “My old pal! Oh how wonderful it is to see you again! It has been too long, I must say. Too long indeed!” The powerful demon laughed good naturedly . He held a hand out to you, and shook your arm with vigor as you returned the notion

• “Good to hear your voice again.” You said honestly, and smiled slightly at the familiar static pouring from his speech. He always has a way with words. “But really Alastor. Redemption? What are you up to this time.”

• “Hah! You know me too well, my dear.” He smiled deviously, twirling his staff from hand to hand as Charlie’s expression formed an offended pout behind him. You ignored it in favor of laughing with Alastor

• The demon wasted no time ushering you around the hotel for a good old fashioned walk-and-talk. It had been so long since he had last truly seen you, and there was just so much to catch up on! Of course, his events were a bit more exciting, so to speak, than yours, but the point still stands

• “— and oh how absolutely wondrous her screams were!” He cooed to himself, curling a clawed hand around the top of his staff in mirth

• “Alastor, you know how much I love your storytelling," You hummed slowly. "But mind telling me a bit about this hotel instead? Like what exactly you're doing here?”

• “Oh right! Of course!" He cleared his throat. "It all started when I saw this horrendous advertisement in one of those blasted T.V windows —"

• "Hey!"

• Judging from the shocked gasp that could be heard from behind you, Charlie didn’t take that too well

• More visits were made to Hazbin Hotel over the coming months. The more you came, the longer you stayed. Sometimes, you would just listen in on Alastor’s broadcasts like old times, or take to sitting at the bar as everyone else ran around like their heads were on fire

• Which happened more than you'd like to admit

• In the meantime, you became acquainted with all types of new faces; from a trio of bizarre eggs to the lord of hell himself

• Alastor had been very cagey that day.

• "Great to meet you, sir. Charlie’s talked about you before, and it's very nice to put a face to the name." You said politely while taking one of Lucifer's hands in both of yours to shake it. He just grinned uncontrollably response and made star eyes at the thought of his daughter mentioning him

• "Alright I think that's enough for introductions!" An irritated voice rang from beside you, practically overflowing with an aggressive amount of static

• "Oh shut up Alastor. I'm shaking the king of hell's hand. Let me have this."

[fictionismyreality3]

Learned your lesson? (18+)

Simon Riley x Reader

Tags: Smut, daddy!simon, angry!simon

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, thigh riding, daddy kink, face slapping, slight impact play, spanking, face fucking, hair pulling, choking, exhibitionism if you squint

Notes: absolute dEBaUchErY 🤪 but I have no regrets 🤭 gimme a chance and I’d let Simon ruin my-

In hindsight, the situation you were in was probably your fault.

You hadn’t meant to make Simon angry, and he wasn’t really, but you were being a brat. In your defence, having him away from you all the time got a little lonely, and you could only fuck yourself with the dildo he got you so many times before you started wanting the real thing.

That’s why you had blown up his phone all day, sending him video after video of you fucking yourself in every room of your apartment, moaning his name as you came. In the back of your mind, you knew it was a bad idea, but it felt so deliciously good to imagine his eyes widening as he stood on base and got all your little gifts, especially when you were riding the dildo with his t-shirt on.

Your hands gripped the black marble countertop of your shared bathroom as you bounced your ass back against the wall, the hyper-realistic dildo hitting you just right. When Simon showed up with a clone-a-willy kit in hand before a long deployment, you nearly spat out the soda you were drinking.

“What the fuck is that?” You managed to sputter as you coughed, trying not to spit soda all over the living room carpet.

“Your stress reliever, luv’.” Simon’s eyes sparked behind his balaclava as he chuckled with mirth.

The rest of that night consisted of you whispering in his ear and tracing his neck with your tongue, keeping him hard as you carried out your diy sex toy production.

And now, as you fucked yourself on your clone of Simon’s cock, your phone propped up to record, the dildo did its job, but it wasn’t Simon.

It wasn’t him.

That’s why you made sure to look directly into the camera as you felt the familiar sparks building up in your core, and when you came, you let him know how much you missed him.

What you couldn’t have known, was that the wifi on base was horrendous. You’d think with the budget going towards the military, they could at least invest in a new router, but no. Simon often had to struggle through paperwork, which he already detested, waiting for the tiniest files to load. In your eagerness to tease him, you sent all the videos at once, but couldn’t have known that they’d take ages to get delivered.

By the time they reached their destination, blowing up Simon’s phone all at once, it was hours after you’d initially hit send. It was nearly impossible for him to be away from you as it is. As soon as he saw your face the day you met, he knew that he’d be needing you for the rest of his life.

He didn’t like leaving you and he didn’t like sharing.

Two weeks away from the only reminder of having a normal life was already painstaking. It was the last day on base and Simon was counting down the minutes till he could get home and show you how much he missed you. The time spent rubbing himself in the barracks bathroom, jerking his cock to the thought of you, all it had done was provide temporary relief. He needed the real thing.

He needed to be buried so deep in your tight little cunt that he made himself a part of you with each thrust.

Simon was counting down the minutes as he sat through the last briefing of the day, just a few hours away from getting to let out all his pent up tension, when his phone began to buzz endlessly. His heart spiked, threatening to burst from his throat as he saw the texts from you. Instantly, the worst case scenarios of what could’ve happened ran through his mind. He wasn’t a paranoid man by any means, but when it came to you, the only thing that mattered more that keeping you happy was your safety.

What if something happened? What if you were hurt? What if you’d been taken hostage and someone was sending him videos of you being tortured?

Okay, so, maybe a little paranoid.

Not wanting to wait in agonizing curiosity, he clicked open the attachment.

Within seconds, sounds of your wanton moaning filled the room, your breathy whimpers of his name silencing the rest of the 141 who had been debriefing. All eyes snapped to Simon as he fumbled with his phone, dropping it to the floor in his haste to mute the video. This interrupted Soap’s guffawing, as his eyes locked on the screen, the video of you riding the dildo he got you playing on repeat.

“Jesus Christ, Lt! Tha’ yer woman? She’s a sight to-” Gaz smacked him upside the head as Price tried to avert his eyes, clearing his throat.

“Watch your fuckin’ eyes, Johnny, before I rip ‘em outta your skull.” Simon snapped.

Finally, he managed to switch the video off, but the damage was done. Even though he sat as still as a statue for the rest of the brief, his balaclava hidden face betraying no emotion despite Soap’s repeatedly cheeky comments, Simon was livid.

From the time he first took you, he ruined you for anyone else. Nobody could replace him, nobody could break you or make you scream like he did. But you’d ruined everything else for him too. And just the thought of someone else getting to have you, getting to touch even an inch of your skin, was enough that he had to ball his fists so as not to throttle Johnny’s neck.

He trusted his guys with his life, even if he’d never tell them that. But this was different.

This was you.

While you giggling conspiratorially to yourself, thinking about the fun you’d have with him when he got home, Simon was whiteknuckling the wheel of his truck, trying not to break the speed limit to get home to you faster. His cock was achingly hard as he ran over how he planned to punish you again and again in his mind. You’d love every second of it, he always made sure you did, but he wanted to tease you just like you did him.

This is what he loved about you. How you were so eager to please, but so eager to rile him up, it was the perfect combination to make Simon’s cock scream at him to fuck your pretty throat.

He nearly ran a stop sign imaging cumming in your greedy mouth.

His dirty girl.

His greedy girl. He definitely couldn’t give you the usual treatment this time. The thought of your ass marked up with his handprints after a spanking was tempting, but you would enjoy it far too much. He wanted to see you struggle to get even the slightest bit of relief after the stunt you pulled.

The rumbling of his truck signalled his arrival to your keen ears, and you jumped up from the couch, running to the front door of the cozy house you’d bought together to stand on the porch waiting for him.

Simon got out of his truck. He knew you were standing there, where you always were to welcome him home after a deployment, but he didn’t look at you. Getting his gear bag from the back, he slung it over his shoulders and trudged up the front stairs. His kit was well over 100 pounds, but he still managed to carry it with one hand. The other hand shot out to wrap around your throat, causing you to stumble on your feet.

“Simo-” Your greeting was cut of by your now restricted air supply, and your hands instinctively clawed at his grip on your throat. He didn’t utter a word, only reached around you to open the door, pushing you inside as he followed, closing it with his foot.

You were pinned up against the wall as soon as his gear bag had hit the ground, and you could already hear his ragged breaths.

“D’you have any idea,” He huffed, trying to restrain himself from just fucking you against the wall. “how much shit you’re in for… love?” He ground out the pet name like it took effort for him to keep from swearing even more.

You quickly ran through everything that you could have done wrong in your mind. Sure, you’d been a brat all day, but Simon liked when you were bratty from time to time. Nothing you could think of could explain the tightly contained anger that was rippling off of him.

“What? Did you not like the videos?” You managed to say breathily, the grip on your throat keeping you perched on the edge of loosing your breath. “Did I not like the-” Simon stopped to let out a low, raspy chuckle, his head dropping to the crook of your neck.

“I loved the videos, sweetheart. An’ so did the boys.” He whispered slowly into your ear.

Immediately your face scrunched up as you tried to decipher what he meant.

“What do you mean, Si? I only….oh.” The reality of your mistake hit you all at once.

Oh.

How could you have forgotten that Simon would probably be around the rest of the 141, not to mention how inept with technology he was. No wonder the rest of the team saw you. Your swirling thoughts were broken up by Simon releasing your throat, only to grab your arm, and roughly drag you over to the couch.

“‘Oh’ is right, luv’.” He murmured as he sat down, pulling you on top of his lap to straddle him. Your hands instinctively went for his balaclava, wanting to take it off and see his face, a permission only you were granted.

Before your fingers could even meet the fabric, Simon was grabbing both your wrists with one hand, pinning them to your lap. You really had poked the bear in all senses of the word. Simon was utterly massive, and he could easily palm any part of you that would take most people two hands to hold.

With his free hand, he pushed his balaclava up so it rested just underneath his nose, his lips free to kiss you. Your stomach was churning with a mix of apprehension and excitement. You knew the look in his eyes, the look he only got when he was going to break you. It was nearly impossible to keep from leaning down and pressing a kiss to his inviting lips, but you knew that you were already in as much trouble as it was.

With the way you were straddling his lap, the thin material of your shorts allowed you to feel his cock growing ridged underneath you. Heat bloomed in your core and Simon’s grip on your wrists suddenly felt electric.

“You’re a greedy cockslut, aren’t you?” He slipped the hand which wasn’t keeping your wrists trapped underneath your shirt. “So desperate you jus’ had to be a brat, hm? Had to let everyone see wha’ a needy girl you are.”

The low, condescending tone of his voice made your head swim, and your breaths began to come faster and faster as he palmed your tits, beginning to play with your nipples. You couldn’t exactly be sorry when he was making you feel so good, but there was still some guilt in the back of your mind for putting him on the spot.

“Simon, I’m-” Simon’s large hand slapped you lightly across the cheek, tugging your hair to refocus your gaze on him. “Don’t fuckin’ call me that.” He pinched your nipple hard, causing you to reel forwards into his chest.

“What’s my fuckin’ name, huh? Only good girls get t’call me Simon.” He dug his fingers into the skin of your wrists, the pain warning you of what would come if you weren’t more obedient.

“…daddy?” You tried quietly.

Simon’s grip on your wrists lessened instantly, and his hands began to tease at your tits again. The whiplash of pain to pleasure was something that he had perfected, and he loved the way you’d bite your lip as you struggled to catch up. All it took was just getting you to call him daddy and he could already feel you melting in his lap, your eyes getting half lidded and foggy.

“That’s right, bunny. And daddy teaches his baby how to behave doesn’t he?” Simon said expectantly, beginning to peel off his t-shirt you were wearing.

“Y-yes, daddy.” The cold air hit your skin, sending a shiver through body as you were left in just your thin pajama shorts, straddling your hulk of a boyfriend. Without the t-shirt in the way, Simon had easy access to your gorgeous tits, and took the opportunity to take a nipple in between his teeth, his other hand running up and down your back.

He was rock hard by now, the feeling of your soft skin on top of him sending his mind into a buzzing haze of desire. All he wanted to do was rut up into that precious pussy of yours and make you cum around his cock. But he had to be patient. He had to make sure you knew what you did wrong.

As soon as he felt you begin to rock your hips, a movement so imperceptible that only those who knew you would realize what you want, he gripped your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. Simon’s eyes were narrowed in warning, and a dark chuckled left his throat.

“You’re so greedy.” He growled, his fingers digging into your thighs. “Show daddy you’re more than jus’ a needy little girl.”

“How, daddy?” You breathed.

A whine fell from your lips as you slipped further away from being rational, your head fuzzy with want as you felt Simon’s cock pressed underneath you.

“Can’t get off without my cock, hm?” He thought back to the videos of you fucking yourself on the dildo he got you. Simon loosened his grip on your hips, allowing you to move, only to shifted you so that he could tear your pajama shorts off. He lifted you slightly so that you were straddling one of his thighs instead.

“You wanna cum s’badly? You need it s’much that you’re a brat?”

“Fuck yourself on my thigh then, luvie.”

Your breath left you in one big whoosh, and the moment Simon gave you permission to move, you were grinding down on his thigh. The fabric of his jeans rubbed against your clit, sending little jolts of pleasure through you.

Simon watched as your eyes got droopy, half opened through your haze of pleasure. He was still angry but right now all he could focus on was how pretty you looked. Your cheeks all flushed from his words and the exertion of grinding on him, your little hands holding onto his shoulders, and the wet spot on your panties.

“That’s it, pretty. Jus’ like that.” He groaned.

His cock felt impossibly hard, raging with need every time he looked at the way your tits bounced. Fumbling with his belt, he pulled his cock out. The noise caught your attention, and you faltered, going to reach for him. You didn’t get very far, because as soon as Simon felt you stop moving, he delivered two quick spanks to your ass.

You cried out in surprise and pain as he fisted one hand in your hair, and the other around his leaking cock. His hands were so big it made him look normal sized, but you knew he was easily almost ten inches.

“Such a whore.” He whispered, pulling your hair so your head was forced back. “Jus’ had t’get my cock in your mouth.”

Simon stroked himself lazily, savouring the wave of heat which coursed through him every time he ran a thumb over his tip. It wasn’t your touch, but it would do for now. Your gaze was forced to the ceiling as Simon kept you locked in position, observing you like his own personal work of art. The sound of his quiet groans filling your ears was torturous knowing you weren’t allowed to touch him. You could feel yourself leaking into his jeans, and knew he no doubt felt it too.

“Are you- oh, gonna be a good girl f’me?” His mouth latched on your exposed neck as he sucked a hickey into your skin, marking you as his. You were panting, practically trembling as he forced you to keep still. Simon was closer than he’d like to admit. It had been weeks since he’d touched you and just seeing you writhing on lap, trying to get whatever friction you could, made his cock leak.

“Say it, bunny.” He rasped into your ear, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

“I’ve learned my lesson, daddy. Please, can I…” You trailed off, afraid that if you asked for his cock you’d seem ever more needy.

But Simon was thrilled.

Having the love of his life, almost naked on his lap, desperate to touch him was like a dream. The hand in your hair pushed your head down, his palm big enough to cover the back of your head.

“Suck.” He growled.

Rubbing the head of his cock along your mouth, demanding entrance, you parted your lips. Simon pushed inside of your mouth, heavy on your tongue as he let out a long, drawn out groan you wished you could have on repeat.

“Shit, sweathear’- oh, fuck..” He hissed. You could feel him twitching in your mouth.

He tried to focus on anything but the warm, wet-

Oh, god.

Simon bucked his hips up and began to fuck into you without warning, sending your hands shooting out to his stomach to catch yourself. His cock hit the roof of your mouth and your throat tightened on reflex as you tried not to gag. You could feel Simon’s nails digging into your scalp as he bobbed your head up and down.

“Sorry, luv’ I jus’,” He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the feeling of your lips around him. “Been achin’ for you, bunny. All those videos y’sent me.” He moaned, no longer able to keep himself from being gentle.

“Let daddy cum in y’mouth, sweetheart.”

The words flooded your pussy with heat, and Simon took notice of the way you moaned around his cock. He was strict, but he wasn’t cruel, and you had been good so far. Taking a little pity on you, Simon used his free hand to grab your hip, bouncing his leg so you could get a little relief. The sudden stimulation sent your dripping cunt into overdrive, and as Simon rammed his cock into your throat, you began to rut against his thigh.

He would’ve told you to keep your eyes on him, but they looked so pretty rolling back into your head.

“Yeah, yeah jus’ like that.” He said, his voice raspy as he tried to hold himself back. “Be good for daddy. Get close, luv’.”

You didn’t have to try with the way your cunt was clenching around nothing. Every bounce of his leg rubbed your clit against his jeans, and he pushed you further by holding your hip to help you grind against him. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of release, and Simon knew it too with the way you were moaning around his cock. Every noise you made sent a vibration through him, and he began to fuck your mouth with abandon, his balls tightening in anticipation.

“Oh, god. Oh f-fuck, bunny keep-” He spasmed in your mouth. “Keep suckin’ just like tha’. Daddy’s gonna cum in your pretty lil’ mouth.”

His words made your head spin. The only thought on your mind was drawing as much pleasure from him as you could, so you took his balls in your hand, rolling them a few times to push him over the edge. Your core was fluttering with need as you rutted against Simon’s leg, which he kept bouncing, hitting your swollen clit mercilessly. It was too much for both of you after weeks without each other.

Simon’s hand left your hip so he could tangle both hands in your hair, the need for his own pleasure taking over. You managed to glance up, wanting to see his face as he came.

“Luvie.. luvie, oh sweatheart.” His mouth hung open as he let out a noise he didn’t know he could make. The sight of you grinding desperately against his thigh tipped him over the edge.

“Oh, fuck. Bun-”

Ropes of hot, thick cum shot down your throat, filling your mouth and spilling past your lips. The taste of Simon on your tounge was enough to break you. Your mind shattered as you began rutting on his thigh, not caring how needy you looked, the heat in your pussy sent you spiralling. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, and you gushed all over Simon’s leg as he pressed himself so deep into your mouth that your nose hit his stomach.

He sent the last of his load down your throat and pulled your head up as you gasped for air. The world was fuzzy, but you felt two big, strong arms pulling you up from where you’d collapsed forward onto Simon’s stomach.

Taking you into his lap, he ran a hand through your hair as he rubbed your back in slow, comforting circles. His cock lay resting against his stomach, big even when it was getting soft. Simon’s hand found your chin and he turned your gaze to his, helping you come back to reality by taking off his balaclava to let you see his face.

“Did so good f’me, pretty.” He pressed a kiss to your nose, making you giggle.

“Thank you, daddy.” You managed to say, your eyes getting droopy as sleepiness began to creep in.

“I think you learned your lesson, sweetheart.” He mused, noticing your breaths begin to slow. “Jus’ rest here, luv’.”

“Daddy’s got you.”

Simon watched with reverence as your head rested against his shoulder, your flushed cheeks making you look even cuter than you did choking on his cock. This was good. This was right. He’d take care of you forever, he knew it from the moment he saw you. You didn’t realize yet, but you had one hell of a guardian angel on your side.

[dandylovesturtles]

Made myself emotional over the “Leo and Donnie chose to be twins” headcanon.

———

“By the way, it’s Leo and Donnie’s birthday next Thursday. You’re coming, right?”

Draxum looked up from his work organizing next week’s lunch schedule to look at Michelangelo, sitting on the counter and swinging his feet. Celebrating individual birthdays wasn’t a thing that the yokai did, but Draxum had been forced to accept that the boys could not be dissuaded from this human tradition. He’d been to two birthday parties now, for Michelangelo and Raphael respectively, eating cake and presenting them with some small trinket he purchased.

He’d known that he would have to go to more birthday parties at some point. But he wasn’t expecting two at once.

“Why on the same day? I can’t imagine the blue one wanting to share.” Actually, he couldn’t imagine Donatello wanting to share, either.

“Oh,” said Michelangelo with a laugh. “That’s ‘cause they’re twins!”

Draxum stared at him. “Twins? What kind of nonsense is that?”

Mikey tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“They’re entirely different species, for starters,” Draxum pointed out.

“I mean, we all are, but we’re still brothers.”

“Yes, by virtue of your shared DNA donor and the circumstances of your raising.” Draxum waved that off. “But “twins” refers to a situation where two children are born at once, especially as the result of a split of a fertilized egg. Which is absolutely impossible in the case of Leonardo and Donatello. Even if I were to be charitable and simply consider them “twins” for having the same hatch day, I can tell you they do not.”

“Uh, okay,” said Michelangelo, unimpressed. “But they’ve always been twins, so I don’t think it matters to them.”

“Why not? I would think it would matter to Donatello especially, since he claims to be scientifically minded.”

Michelangelo laughed. “Not everything is about science, Barry. Not even to Donnie.”

“Then his decisions about when to apply science and when not to are inconsistent and confusing.”

“Well, it’s their birthday, so they get to pick.”

“I am certain that is not how birthdays work.”

“It’s how it works for us!” Michelangelo slipped off the counter. “We’ll see you on Thursday, right? It’ll mean a lot to them if you come!”

Draxum was fairly sure Leonardo in particular would prefer he didn’t, but that didn’t matter. Now he had a mission: he had to correct this strange incongruence.

“Yes, I will be there.”

“Yay!” cheered Michelangelo. “Okay, see ya Dad!”

He squeezed Draxum around the waist on his way out. Draxum was finding he didn’t mind that as much as he used to.

———

Leonardo and Donatello’s party was just as loud and obnoxious as the other two. Blue and purple decorations covered every inch of the old subway station, strange music blared from unseen speakers, and a horrendous amount of junk food was spread out over a table. It was the same group of people present today as there ever was, the eclectic mix of humans and yokai that the boys considered family, but it felt like a crowd three times the size with the amount of noise being made.

Draxum stood off on his own for most of it, his slim birthday present already delivered to the table stacked with gifts. He’d been a little shocked when Donatello and then Leonardo came by to say hello, since he’d been prepared to be ignored by both of them. It was… nice, maybe, that they did that. Even if Leonardo just wanted to make jokes at his expense.

For most of the party, the two birthday boys seemed to be competing with each other for attention. In fact, the longer he took it all in, the whole affair seemed like a clash of ideas. The purple decorations were neat and tidy, geometric patterns and hard angles. The blue decorations were whimsical, uncoordinated, and haphazard, and there were places it seemed someone had deliberately covered up some of the purple with the blue. Leonardo wanted to play rock music and Donatello wanted to play techno. The cake was a mess because they’d both requested different themes for the decorations. There were arguments between the two of them every few minutes, and according to the human girl April this was “typical behavior.”

But why? They weren’t really twins. They didn’t have to share this day.

Hopefully Draxum’s plan would fix all this nonsense.

When it was time for gifts, Leonardo loudly declared that he was going first, sparking an argument. They squabbled for a bit before agreeing to play rock-paper-scissors, which was apparently what they did every year.

Leonardo won the game and celebrated obnoxiously while Donatello scowled at him. Then he gestured at the gift table - which Draxum, in his efforts to stay out of the main throng, was closest to.

“Hey, Barry! Grab me a gift! Make it a good one.”

Draxum sighed but reached over to take one of the blue packages, checking the tag to make sure it was for Leonardo. “This one is… to Leo from Donnie,” he read.

“Oh no, not that one. Our presents to each other are always last.”

“Because they always get sappy about it,” said April with a laugh.

“Do not!” yelled Leonardo at the same time Donatello hissed, “You take that back!”

“Uh, yeah you do, and you know I’m right.”

Draxum ignored the petty argument to look back at the gift table. If they weren’t going to be satisfied with his choice, he might as well give them his own gift.

He lifted it, in its sensible brown packaging, off the table and handed it over.

“Why not start with this? It’s to both of you from me.”

“Both of us at once?” asked Leonardo. “Oh man, you’re throwing off our whole system, Barry.”

“Yes, but he’s giving it to you,” Donatello pointed out, “which means my turn is still next.”

“Uh, no, if it’s for both of us then it counts for both of us, which means it comes back around to me!”

“Ooooh no, you do not get to loophole your way into opening two presents in a row-“

“Ahem!” Draxum loudly cleared his throat, getting their attention. “Would you please just open it?”

“Yikes,” said Leonardo. “Touchy.”

“Some people just don’t understand the sanctity of opening birthday gifts,” said Donatello with a sniff. But he leaned in to watch as Leonardo tore off the wrapping paper and opened the box.

They were both silent for a moment, staring at it. Then Leonardo said, “Uh, no offense, Barry, but what is this?”

“It’s a… scientific study on how twins are formed during the gestational period,” said Donatello, pulling the paper clipped thesis from the box. “Oh, there are more in here… Also about twins.”

“Uh…” Leonardo blinked at it, clearly bewildered. Well, he was always a bit slow. “Thanks…? I think?”

“Not that I don’t appreciate the scientific literature,” said Donatello, “but this isn’t really my area of study and Leo does better with training manuals and textbooks than research papers.” He looked up at Draxum. “Is there something about this we aren’t getting?”

“Yes there is,” said Draxum, sweeping his hand around at the entire party. “I am here to correct your mistaken assumption that you are twins.”

The room fell silent. Donatello set the paper back in the box, staring at him. Leonardo’s brow creased in anger.

“We are twins, though,” he said, setting the box aside like it was burning him.

“No, you are not. There is simply no way that the two of you could be twins. It is biologically impossible.”

“You think that I’m so stupid I don’t know that?” Donatello demanded, getting up from the chair he was sitting in. “Are you doubting my intelligence?”

“Yes, if you honestly think you are twins with him, then I am.”

“Uhhh, Draxum,” said Michelangelo quickly, stepping between him and the now furious Donatello, “this was a… funny joke, but you can stop now-“

“This is not a joke. I am simply explaining the facts.”

“Yeah, well,” now Leonardo was on his feet, too, “the facts are that me and Donnie are twins. Always have been, always will be.”

“You are not,” Draxum insisted. “And given what I have seen here today, I’d think you’d both be relieved, since you clearly don’t enjoy being twins!”

Both boys looked like they’d just been slapped in the face. The rest of the room had gone completely silent, like everyone was collectively holding their breath.

Donatello broke first, turning on his heel and marching out of the room, his hands balled into fists and his shoulders hunched up as high as they could go. “Dee!” called Leonardo, and then he was scurrying off after him. There was the sound of a heavy door slamming, then silence.

It didn’t last long.

“Draxum!” roared the rat, actually getting up from his chair to get in Draxum’s face. “You come in here and upset my boys on their own birthday!?”

“Seriously not cool, Drax,” said the human April. Cassandra shook her head in shared disappointment behind her.

Draxum pushed Lou Jitsu back, scowling at his accusers. “I was only explaining reality! This is really the rat’s fault for letting their delusion go on so long.”

“Delusion!?”

“Barry!”

“Rat!?”

“Ooookay,” said Raphael suddenly, stepping his way into the middle of the fray and starting to herd Draxum back toward the exit. “That’s enough of that for now.”

“I am simply trying to explain-“

“Trust me, hoss, you wanna step away from this one,” said Raphael, and his tone was angry but surprisingly measured. “Come on.”

They retreated to the sewer tunnels outside the subway station. The smell was much worse out here, and Draxum wrinkled his nose.

“Alright.” Raphael heaved a sigh, folding his arms. “So here’s the deal. Mikey likes you, and I guess I kinda do too, so I’m gonna try to help you before you completely torpedo your chances with the rest of the guys. Which, you kinda did already, but maybe we can turn it around.”

“I still don’t understand why they’re so upset,” said Draxum. “Surely it was obvious they aren’t twins.”

“Uh, yeah, they know they aren’t twins by bio-whatever,” agreed Raphael. “They ain’t stupid.”

“Hmm.” Draxum turned up his nose. “Donatello isn’t stupid, maybe.”

“Leo ain’t stupid, either, he just pretends like it.” Raphael pinched his brow. “Listen, that isn’t the point - the point is they already know they didn’t come from the same egg or hatch the same day or whatever. They’re just twins anyway.”

“But how? That doesn’t make sense!”

Raphael sighed again. “Alright, look. Dad didn’t know when we hatched, right? But we all wanted birthday parties like we saw on TV, so he let us pick.”

“Yes. And for some reason Leonardo and Donatello chose the same day.” Draxum could figure that much out on his own.

Raphael nodded. “I was the biggest and oldest, and Mikey was the littlest and youngest, and Leo and Donnie were just kinda sandwiched in the middle. I think at first they just wanted a thing. Somethin’ that set them apart from me and Mikey, ya know?”

“Not really,” said Draxum. Raphael glared at him, and he sighed. “But go on.”

“So they picked the same birthday and called themselves twins. I think Pops just so glad they were actually getting along that he agreed to it. And I think he thought once we got to the day, and they realized they were really gonna have to share it, they’d both demand their own day instead. I know I thought that was gonna happen.” He smiled at the memory. “But the day came, and… they fussed the whole time just like they do now. Arguing about what kind of cake they wanted and who got to open their present first. But they didn’t ask to split. They kept it the same day, and they kept calling each other twins and it just stuck, until we didn’t question it anymore.”

“…They are both stubborn,” Draxum pointed out, and Raphael laughed once.

“Yeah, guess they are. But that’s not what this is.” Raphael shrugged. “They chose each other back then. Maybe at first it was just to have a thing, but then it became real. And every single year they keep choosing each other. That’s why they’re twins.”

Choosing each other as twins… Draxum furrowed his brow. “It’s not normally a choice,” he pointed out finally.

“Yeah, well, our family doesn’t get a lot of choices, so just let ‘em have this one, okay?”

“…Fine,” Draxum finally relented. “As long as it’s noted that this is purely a social designation, and not a biological one.”

“Uh, sure, whatever.” Raphael rolled his eyes. “Glad we got that cleared up, though. Think you can come back to the party and behave?”

Draxum wrinkled his nose at that phrasing, but nodded. “Yes. I will not bring it up again.”

“Good!” Raphael’s smile abruptly transitioned into something much more dangerous. “Because if you make my little brothers upset on their birthday again, I’ll remind you what it was like when we were enemies.”

Then the smile was back. “Now let’s go in!”

He walked back to the subway station, leaving Draxum to follow on his own. Draxum couldn’t help but sigh wistfully.

Raphael would have made a great general for his army.

———

The boys had already returned by the time Draxum got back. They were opening more gifts, and he noted they were wearing hoodies now - though they had apparently decided to swap their signature colors. They were smiling and chattering, and any hint of their earlier upset was gone.

Until Draxum stepped into their line of sight, and both of them went rigid, wary of him.

Apparently just talking to the red one was not enough. Draxum would have to do more. What a pain.

But he didn’t want the boys to hate him. So he sighed and launched into it.

“I… am sorry. I shouldn’t have said you aren’t twins.”

The boys looked surprised at that; slowly, their posture loosened back up.

“And… to make up for my present, I will… take the two of you wherever you want to go in the Hidden City.” The next words were painful, and he ground them out. “My treat.”

Leonardo and Donatello shifted their gaze from him to each other. They were silent, but it didn’t seem like they needed to talk to have a conversation.

Then they finally looked back at Draxum, slow grins growing over both their faces.

Eerily matching, very evil grins.

“Oh,” said Leonardo, happily menacing. “I think we can think of something.”

“I concur,” said Donatello in the exact same tone.

Oh, thought Draxum. Maybe they really are twins.

[pretentious-blonde]

soft spot

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: after being drenched by the rain, steve just wants to take care of you whilst reminiscing over his “king steve” days

warnings: none

a/n: it was raining so here you go, also steve is a gossip you can't change my mind

The stairs leading up to your apartment were usually a challenge, but today they felt endless. Each step you took was accompanied by the squelching sound of rainwater trapped in your shoe, only irritating you further as you climbed. Your hair was plastered to your face and you could tell how horrendous the strands looked as they stuck to your skin, drops of rain that still clung to your eyelashes blurred your vision. You started to regret your ambitious decision to walk home, Steve had insisted on picking you up but of course, it had to start pouring halfway home. Typical. 

You let out a sigh as you reached the top floor, rummaging in your bag before your hands managed to snag your keys, shivering slightly from your soaked clothes, the coldness seeping into your bones. The door let out a gentle creak as you entered, stepping inside and savouring the warmth of the flat as you allowed it to flow over you. 

“Steve?” You called out into the empty room. 

Within a few seconds, his head poked out of your shared bedroom, brown hair falling over his forehead from jumping up so quickly. His brown eyes widened as he took in your drenched state. 

“Oh, honey, what happened?” His voice was laced with concern, his question answered by the loud crash of thunder that rumbled loudly from outside. 

“You said you would call. Look at you! You’re soaked through.” His large hands flew to your coat, heavier due to the rain, peeling it off your body like it was tissue paper. 

“I was fine—“ You began to say, only to be cut off by his excessive fussing. 

“You’re clearly not,” he shook his head as he hung up your jacket, a small puddle already forming underneath that he would have to deal with later. “I can hear your shoes from here, sweetheart. And your hair—“ he brushed a wet lock out of your face and behind your ear, his concerned expression making you giggle. “You’re shaking, honey. Gonna get sick like this.” 

You just smiled at him through your waterlogged lashes, his over-the-top worrying making you laugh more are you batted his hands away. “I’m fine, Steve. Really. It’s just rain, it happens all the time.”

“Nope. No way,” he said, not letting you respond as he was already halfway to the bathroom. “You’re gonna catch a cold and I’m not gonna let that happen.”

His voice was playful but still firm, the sound of running water became audible as he returned to your side. 

“Bathtime,” he said teasingly and you knew there would be no point in arguing, not when he was in full-blown protective mode. God, he could be so stubborn sometimes. 

The brunette boy led you into the bathroom, muttering under his breath about how you should have just phoned him as you trailed behind, wet clothes dripping onto the floor. You stood patiently in the doorway as he rummaged in underneath the sink, his furrowed brows relaxing as he found what he was searching for. He straightened up with a playful grin and held two bottles, bubble bath from one of those birthday sets you got ages ago and forgot about, finally being put to good use. 

“Alright, angel, we got options here,” he said as he inspected the labels on both. “Lavender or…this one’s called ‘Sunset Bliss’. I guess they are bottling sunsets now.”

You roll your eyes before tapping your finger against the small orange bottle, trying to hold back a smile. “Sunset Bliss, obviously.”

“Good choice,” he said whilst nodding as if you passed some sort of test, opening the cap and pouring it into the tub. “Gotta get some sunshine back into today, right?” His voice was light as he leaned over the bath, holding his hand underneath the faucet to check the temperature, adjusting it just how you like it. Just shy of scalding.

He stood back up and hesitated as he looked down at you. “Do you want me to stay with you, or should I wait outside?” His tone was gentle, so as to not pressure you. Just that lovesick gaze that was laced with a hint of concern. 

You shrug your shoulders at his question, still shivering slightly as you respond. “You can stay. I still have to tell you what Robin and I got up to.”

Steve’s eyes softened as he nodded, stepping towards you with a tender smile. His fingers were gentle as they brushed against your skin, treating you with care as he helped you out of your rain-soaked clothes. He was so sweet as he worked, treating you as if you were the most precious thing to him. To which he would probably agree. 

There was nothing suggestive in his movements, no expectation—just the quiet intimacy you had come to associate him with. He adored being close to you in this way. 

Once you were free of the drenched clothes, he held onto your arm as you lowered yourself into the water, feeling a sense of pride as you sighed in relief. The water was soothing to your freezing skin, helping thaw out your numb fingers and toes. He took a seat on the bathmat next to you, resting his chin on the edge of the tub as he gazed at you expectantly. He always had a soft spot for your ramblings. 

“So,” he began as he drew out the word, an amused look on his face. “What did you and Robin get up to while I was slaving away at work? Any trouble?”

You splash a bit of water on his face at his teasing before sinking deeper beneath the bubbles, beginning to babble about your day, not leaving anything out as he loved hearing all the small details. No matter how mundane. He listened, amber eyes focused as he nodded along, occasionally throwing in a sarcastic comment and then laughing at his own joke. God, he was a dork. 

Steve reached out and traced small patterns on your arm with his fingers, his touch light. “Do you want me to wash your hair, sweetheart?” He asked you with eager eyes—he always wanted to do things for you. Things you really didn’t need help with. He was constantly coming up with excuses, helping you made him feel good. He liked to feel needed. 

You shook your head with a chuckle. “You don’t have to.”

He scoffed and you knew he would not take no for an answer, already reaching out for the shampoo bottle on the side of the tub. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.” He said with finality, popping open the cap and allowing the scent of citrus to fill the steamy air. “Besides, I’ve got hair down to a science,” he said with a wink as he moved behind you. 

You tilted your head back to look up at him and he placed a soft kiss against your lips, gently moving you to face forwards, careful not to get any water in your eyes. His fingers were firm as they massaged your scalp, blunt nails moving perfectly as you shut your eyes, leaning closer to where he knelt. 

“You do have great hair,” you tease, eyes still shut, focusing on the motion of his hands. 

“Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was my nickname in high school,” he smirked, you don’t see how proud he looked of the title at that moment. 

“Part of your charm huh?” You poked at him. 

“Oh, absolutely,” he agreed as he carried on with his movements. “Speaking of charm,” he continued, “any updates on Robin and Vicky? Has she finally made anything resembling moves?”

You groaned as you recalled the previous conversation you had earlier that day, the hour spent listening to Robin pining. “She is still being awkward about it. I swear she panics every time she talks to her, and you know how she talks too much when she’s nervous.” 

Steve snickered, a sound so boyish you couldn’t help but join in. “Robin? No way.” His sarcasm earned him another splash to the face, making him laugh even harder. 

“Hey! I’m just stating the facts!” He said. “But seriously, she needs to just ask her out already. Vicky is clearly into her.”

“I know right? They would be adorable together,” you agreed with him, enjoying the playful sass he was giving. If there was one thing Steve secretly loved, it would be gossip. He ate it up just like he did back in school, he always knew the drama from listening to people talk in the hallways. Plus he could never keep a secret, that’s what he had you for. You pretty much knew what every citizen of Hawkins was going through based on their movie choices at Family Video, he always kept you up to date on those. 

“She better not mess it up,” Steve added, rubbing conditioner through your hair, making sure to focus extra on the ends. “Might have to step in. Play matchmaker.”

You scoffed at the statement. “Like you’d do any better?”

He shoved your head playfully. “Honey, I have excellent matchmaking skills. You’re looking at the guy who got Nancy and Jonathan together—but maybe that’s not the best example.” He paused, thinking for a second, before the both of you burst into laughter.

You felt his hands slow as he finished working product through your hair, you turned your head to find him looking at you warmly. “I’m not worried about Robin and Vicky. If they’re meant to be, they’ll figure it out. Just like we did.”

Your heart clenched at the look on his face, all soft eyes and adoring smiles. The expression that was reserved for you and you alone. 

“Yeah,” you whispered as you turned back around, allowing him to carefully rinse your hair for the final time. “Just like we did.”

He finished up and shifted to your side once more, fully facing you. “All done, angel. Feeling better?” His voice was low and sweet, like syrup. Sticky and saccharine. 

“Thank you,” you tell him honestly, as you move to get up. He rose as you did, hands outstretched to help you climb over the ledge of the bath, making sure you were steady on the bathmat before reaching for a towel. Wrapping you up with exaggerated care.

“Alright, sweetheart, wait here. No running off,” he said as he finished tucking the towel around you. 

You giggled, watching him scoop up your pile of wet clothes from the bathroom floor. “And where exactly would I go?”

He walked to the door and held a finger up, pointing at you. “Knowing you, you’d probably find some trouble to get into. Plus, I don’t want to mop up any more water from the living room, so stay put.”

He disappeared into the hallway and you could hear the familiar beep from the dryer, along with him talking to himself about what buttons to push. He always complained about how many setting the damn thing had. 

Not wanting to keep you waiting for long, he reappeared, holding a pair of your pyjama bottoms and—of course—one of his old school jumpers. 

He handed them both to you with a small smile. “Vintage Hawkins, what do you think?”

You raised an eyebrow as you inspected the item. “Didn’t think you’d want me wearing something that is so… ‘King Steve’”

Barking out a laugh as he helped you into the soft material. You had spoken a bit about his past, he openly disclosed that he may not have been the best person then. You withheld using the nickname, usually reserving it for when you wanted to rile him up. 

“I don’t mind,” he said with a shrug. “You would’ve been way too good for me back then. No way we’d be friends in high school. I was kind of a dick.”

You hummed as you wriggled into the dry clothes. “Kind of?”

Steve held a hand to his chest in mock offence. “Wow, okay! That hurts, honey. I’m nicer now aren’t I?”

He helped you tug up your pyjama bottoms, taking a step back to admire you, as if you were dolled up for a date. He loved you like this. Warm and comfy, wearing his clothes. “You are very nice. Maybe too nice.”

He flashed that beautiful, boyish grin once again. “Too nice? No such thing.” He pulled you closer to him. “I had to change my tactics to win you over. I’m whipped for you, just ask Robin.”

Leading you to the couch and pulling you down next to him, he grabbed a blanket and draped it over you both, looking over your shoulder to make sure your feet were covered too. 

“You know, I don’t think I would have liked you much back then,” you teased, poking his side and earning a surprised yelp from the boy beneath you. “Mr. ‘I’m too cool for everyone.’”

Steve ruffled your drying hair playfully before continuing. “Yeah, I was pretty insufferable,” you can hear the cringe in his voice as he looks away, cheeks heating slightly at the embarrassing memories. “But look at me now, completely reformed and with a gorgeous girl looking all pretty in my lap.”

It was your turn to blush as you hid your face in his chest, TV playing softly in the background as you let yourself melt into his embrace. He always made it easy for you to unwind around him. Completely relax. It was simple with Steve, it always was.

“I’m glad I’m not that guy anymore,” he said, his quiet voice laced with sincerity, fingers running through your hair. “Because now, I get to be here with you.”

You tilted your head upwards, eyelids beginning to droop, surrounded by his warmth. “I’m glad too,” you tell him as you feel your body getting heavier.

The white noise from the TV and Steve’s embrace lulled you into a gentle sleep. He smiled down at you, seeing you completely at peace on his chest. He placed a soft kiss on your temple, inhaling the smell of you mixed with the citrus shampoo he had used earlier. He felt content, full. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered, not speaking too loud at the risk of waking you. His fingers drew shapes across your back as the TV droned on, but he wasn’t paying it the slightest bit of attention. Way too focused on the sweet girl in his arms, and nothing in this world could make him want to move. 

[pha55ed]

Is It Casual Now? || F2 (good ending)

type :: hurt/comfort tw/cw :: none contains :: ollie, kimi, paul, arthur, summary :: after getting heart broken by the boys, you're shattered. but the space between you two make him realize how dumb he was being - PART 1 HERE

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

Ollie Bearman | 03

After watching you run into your house with tears streaming down your face - Ollie instantly felt a pang in his heart. But he wasn't sure what it was. He thought it was just empathy, he always hated seeing you upset, so knowing he caused the pain was harsh on his heart. But, he thought it was for the better.

He didn't want to risk ruining your friendship. You were basically part of his family and entire life. Dating you would mean risking a nasty break up which would permanently change everything. His family loves you, if you broke up they would most likely side with you instead of Ollie. You got along with all of his friends, dating would change the entire group's dynamic. And even worse, if you did ever break up on bad terms: Ollie knew he would be shattered.

But his entire thought process was proven to be stupid. Saying no to your confession made all of those fears come true. You needed space from Ollie, to heal from the embarrassment and hurt you felt. While Ollie was dealing with every fear he tried to prevent by rejecting you.

So he did what he knew he needed to do: chase you down and get you to come back into his life. He learned that he needed you more than anyone else, even his own family. Once he finally put together all the dots, he came to your house a week later and knocked on your door.

But you weren't done healing yet, still puffy-eyed and snotty from crying your heart out. Like a true heart broken girl, you ordered some take-out to eat whilst sobbing. You didn't bother to check the cameras outside, assuming it was just the delivery man.

So imagine your shock when you're met with a driver, but not a delivery driver. Instead it was Ollie, looming over you with his height as he was holding a large box filled with gifts of your favorite things. But you couldn't ever get a peak at the box, since you instantly tried to slam the door shut - not wanting to see Ollie whilst looking like a mess.

But you weren't able to shut the door since his large hand pushed against your force. So now you were stuck there, looking up at him in week old pajamas and messy hair while he looked even more handsome than usual. You peaked at the gift bundle he made you - filled with your favorite snacks, flower legos, face masks, and almost every makeup and skincare product that you've ever talked about wanting.

"Please?" Ollie said, his voice soft. "I know I'm a jerk for rejecting you, and I don't expect you to forgive me or accept my confession but - I just want to give you something..." He said, looking at you with no pity in his eyes but instead a look of yearning.

"I don't need the gift," you say, not wanting to give in so easily. You wanted to say something cool, to reject his confession. But in your current state, it was going to impossible to fake confidence and reject him while looking homeless. "But um... thank you?" You said, unsure of how to reply to him.

"No no, please take the gift" Ollie said, pushing the door further as he handed you the gift bundle. And by pushing the door further open, you wanted to go curl up in a ball and hide - you looked horrendous.

And as Ollie looked at you, you could see his face soften even more. "When's the last time you showered? Or cleaned your face? Or gone outfside???"

All of his questions were way too embarrassing to answer. And as if the universe was doing it's best to give you a 13th reason, the delivery man came up to the door. The delivery man stood directly by Ollie and for some fucking reason he began to read out your order.

"Two cheese burgers with extra cheese, large fries, large sundae, side of chicken nuggets, and a soda?" The delivery man said, before putting the food into Ollie's arms and went off on his marry way. The man probably assumed you were sharing the meal... Ouch.

And as Ollie held the food, looking at you in such poor shape, he gave a small smile. "Can I have some?? And maybe help you tidy up?" And who were you to deny him any longer.

Kimi Antonelli | 04

It's been almost a month since you talked to Kimi. The interaction left you cringing in your head for hours on end, no matter the time or place. Although you loved learning Italian, it was impossible for you to do lately since you couldn't even speak it without feeling your throat close up from the thought of Kimi.

But luckily, you were able to heal with the time. You weren't over him, not quite yet, but you were able to focus on yourself for the time being. So you wanted to treat yourself out, going on a small shopping spree. Getting new clothes, makeup, even cute blind-boxes that you knew was a waste of money.

So when you came home, only to be met with a huge bouquet on your doorsteps, you were shocked. You put all your shopping bags down and picked up the large rose bouquet. And instantly, your eyes widened as you read the small card that was attached to it.

"Please unblock me. I miss you and want to make things right. But I understand if you don't feel comfortable. - lots of love, Kimi"

You completely forgot that you blocked Kimi on instinct! You felt like an idiot. All those nights you spent crying, hoping he would text you back and take it all back weren't able to happen because you blocked him. Without hesitation, you unblocked his number - getting hit with over 500 messages. If someone didn't know what was happening, they would have assumed you had some crazy ex boyfriend.

As you scrolled through the messages, you were met with paragraph after paragraph with apologies, begging to meet up, and more apologies. It made you feel awful to know that you were grieving over Kimi for no reason when he literally was sending the most heartfelt messages ever.

But you were hesitant. How could Kimi be so cruel and laugh in your face at the idea of dating only to spam you and beg for you. It was such a fast 180 that you were hesitant. So you agreed to meet up at your old favorite Italian restaurant in a few days.

As you sat down in front of Kimi, who seemed to arrive an hour early since the drinks and appetizers were already prepared. You felt your heart sting just at the sight at him. It made you feel the urge to cry yet again, even though you worked hard to become more confident without him - he just softened your heart.

And it seemed like he felt the same, he was absolutely star struck at the sight of you. His jaw was left hanging slightly, his eyes were sparkling with either tears or admiration, and his chest didn't move - you literally caught his breathe.

His breathe so stuck in his throat that he couldn't even speak, so you had to break the silence. "Um, hi?" You said awkwardly.

"Hi." He said, finally taking a breathe. "Um,,," He hesitates to dive too fast into the topic. "I got your favorite appetizers,, you should eat it before it's cold."

You simply nod, taking note of his care. He watches as you eat and you feel so awkward. "So uh, what did you want to talk about?"

"Well, I wanted to apologize - not really talk." He started, "I realized that what I did was so so SO stupid. Ever since you've been gone, everything has been so different. I can't eat anywhere we liked, can't go parties without them asking where you are - I can't even see my family without them asking where you are!" His voice got louder slightly at his annoyance at himself.

You just sat there listening, giving him time to say everything he needed. He continued, "And I kept trying to convince myself that I didn't need you and that we weren't serious, but who am I kidding, of course we were dating. I just never asked you to be mine and I feel so stupid for that! And then once you left it made me realize how much I missed you, now much I needed you."

As he spoke, rambling at an extremely fast pace, you realized he's been holding this in for a while. The way that his face and voice were still so angry at himself made it clear that he's not forgiven himself. But you were still wondering if he was trying to get forgiveness or actually date you.

"And then I got kind of depressed... I wasn't going out anymore, not working out, not socializing. And I guess my final breaking point was when my sister," He pauses, thinking back to what happened, "My sister asked where you were, and when you would play with her again, and I just - I just broke then and there" His fast rambling came to a halt as he looked down in shame for being so weak in front of his sister. "And um, as dumb as it sounds, she was the main person to encourage me to get you back."

You were always close with his little sister, playing dolls and dress up with her. She always wished she had a sister, especially since Kimi was only into masculine hobbies. You were that older sister that she's always dreamed of, so it broke her heart to not see you for so long. Now you felt even worse, knowing that she probably just thought you left her for no reason - not even saying good bye to her.

"I'm not trying to use her to guilt you. I'm just being honest. But I realized everything I did wrong. I'm sorry for saying I would never date you, I can't name a single person better than you. I'm sorry for leading you on for ages and never putting a title on us, I was just, scared, I guess. I wasn't confident in myself and just assumed you were too good for him - that my flirting was all one sided." He says, making you realize you didn't ever flirt with him back - it was mainly him.

And that when it clicked in your head, he was slightly right. You never once called him amore back, never reached for his touch in public, never once started anything romantic. He most likely saw this was him pining after you while you were just going with the flow. So now you felt like an even bigger asshole.

"Kimi," You spoke for once, "I'm so sorry that you went through all of that, I felt the same way. I do like you, that's why I asked in the first place."

"I realized that now. And I feel so stupid for what I did." He said, "Please let me make it up to you."

Paul Aron | 17

Going to the paddock has never been more nerve racking. Not because you were preparing for your home race, but because you would see Paul. You've been able to ignore him and leave him alone thanks to your extreme luck. But now you were forced to be with him for interviews, photos, and race discussions.

Once you arrived, your plan was to just say that you were having a tummy ache or head ache. Some type of pain that was bad enough to excuse you from doing your duties but not bad enough for them to tell you couldn't race. But before you could even speak to anyone - he was right there, in front of you.

You knew you should have come an hour or more early just to avoid him, but you overslept on accident. So now you were stuck standing their awkwardly as you looked up at him. You gave a small head nod, a sign of acknowledgement but also a sign of not wanting to speak to him.

But you knew Paul was stubborn, always the type to fight until he got what he wanted. So he just stood there and shook his head. "Nope," He said, "You can't ignore me forever. It's been 4 WEEKS (Y/N)."

You were avoiding his gaze, not wanting to look at him after how embarrassing it was to get rejected. You knew it was immature but you genuinely weren't sure how to respond to him, giving him a weak shrug as you kept your head turned away from him.

"(Y/N), please." He said, his hand reached forward and he held your chin gently, pulling your face to look at him. And that's when you saw how sincere he looked, as if he was in pain. His voice didn't convey his emotions, but his eyes surely did.

"What?" You say, not wanting to assume too quickly that he actually missed you as a person, "You want to fuck or something?" Trying to seem tough, as if his words from the weeks before didn't shatter you.

"No." He instantly said, his lack of hesitation made you surprised slightly. "I want to talk, tell you everything."

"About what?" You say, still trying your best to hide the fact that your heart was racing. You desperately wanted it to be good news, but that last time you hoped for good news it ended with you both splitting paths.

"You." He stared at you, "You, for fuck sakes, you. It's all I've thought about since, forever. I'm so so sorry, I'm sorry for being such an idiot when it comes to you. I know that we promised to not catch feelings and just be friends with benefits, but if I'm being honest I fell for you a LONG time ago."

His confession was shocking to you. If he fell for you first then why would he reject you? Why didn't he confess to you first? It was nice to hear him say he liked you back, but you were still lost.

"But I didn't think it was possible because - and I know it's so cheesy and embarrassing but - I know I'm not the best guy out there. So I thought that maybe just staying friends with benefits until I became someone I'm proud of would be smart. So I could be the perfect guy that you deserved and so when you confessed I just didn't feel ready and wanted to seem cool but I ended up sounding like a dick head-"

You cut him off by giving him a tight hug. Although you wanted to kiss him to shut up, his fast rambling made it impossible to get a good spot to kiss him. Your hug around him was tight, as tight as you could possibly give him. Telling him that you didn't care, that you wanted him as he was right now. And that even if he wasn't proud of himself yet, you were.

And he understood perfectly, giving you a tight squeeze back. He couldn't help but smile and kiss the top of your head. His large hands then slipped out of the hug and held both sides of your waist.

"I promise, once we're both not busy, I'll take you out on a nice date - one that's honest." He said, looking at you with a new light in his eyes.

Arthur Leclerc | 65

I'm gonna be so fr I don't know how to redeem Arthur... I've been stuck for weeks...... So if you have ideas, send it! But for now uh, you guys are still broken up LOLLL

[enwoso]

Lovie and alessia taking on dc, Lovie overheating at the games and having a horrendous time because she’s too warm and the girls on the bench are very worried and trying to cool her down

WATERFALL — alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

america was hot in august. washington dc in august was sweating. your tiny little body was basically melting. alessia had been constantly, since the day you arrived, been covering you in sunscreen and making sure you had a hat on and a bottle of water with you at all times.

the half time whistle had just blown at the game against washington spirit, you’d been sat with kyra and steph for the first part. steph making sure your cap stayed on your head as the sun was blearing down on the subs bench. each of the girls sat with a cold towel around their necks to keep cool or their sub bibs over their heads to create makeshift shade.

kyra and steph had been instructed to warm up and with your mummy gone down the tunnel for half time to get changed, alessia being subbed off now and not playing the second half. you followed steph and kyra down to the sideline.

the two australian girls doing their warmup wanting to get most of it done before the sprinklers came on, to refresh the pitch for the second half.

“you coming tiny?” kyra asked as she pointed to where the girls where walking which was back towards the bench so the two could finish getting changed to be subbed on after half time.

you staring in awe at the two sprinklers in the middle of the pitch, your tiny little head telling you to go and run in them.

“we play in that waterfall?” you asked, pointing to the water that was shooting in the air. kyra looking at your small pout really trying to find it in her to say no but she couldn’t instead she asked steph, she was responsible.

“tiny wants to know if she can stand under the sprinkler?” kyra asked with a similar pout to the one you had asked her with, you coming to stand next to steph you giving her your signature puppy dog eyes knowing that not many of the girls could resist your cute face. you having quite a few of them wrapped around you little finger.

“yeah but she’s gonna get soaking- what will less say?” steph rambled on as both you and kyra stayed in position.

“but it’ll cool the kid down, it’s boiling!’ kyra pointed out as steph hummed before mumbling a yes. you and kyra jumping in excitement as you ran off towards the pitch.

“your telling less it was your idea!” steph called out as she watched kyra run after you, the young australian lifting a thumbs up to steph as she watches as the two of you were in the light spray of the sprinkler it being nothing but refreshing.

you played in the spray of the sprinkler, squealing and laughing every time it would pop back out after being gone for a few seconds. alessia had been told by steph that you were playing in the sprinkler and alessia wasn’t too fussed about it much to the australians surprise.

you were having fun, it was cooling you down and it was helping to tire you out meaning you’d probably be asleep by the time the team got back to the hotel. that sounded like too many wins in alessia’s head.

half time was just about to be over as kyra raced you back to the touchline, you cheekily sticking your tongue out at her when you beat her back to the white line. kyra definitely not letting you win.

alessia was stood waiting, a small towel in her hand she’d found in the changing room waiting to scoop you up after your fun.

“have you had fun lovie?” your mummy questioned as a bright smile was on your face as you ran into the blondes arms, nodding quickly.

“yes! it so fun. it like a massive waterfall! we get one for our garden?” you asked, your brain thinking of all the fun you could have with one of them in your garden. the possibilities were endless in your mind.

a laugh leaving your mummy lips as she smiled wrapping the towel around you and taking you down the tunnel to get you changed, “we’ll see”

[seraphicloves]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐭

⊱✿⊰ summary: your ex boyfriend is supposed to be dead, so why isn't he?

⊱✿⊰ warnings: mentions of death, tortue, jason is more aggressive, reader is shorter than jason, this is kinda short sry

⊱✿⊰ notes: i tried my very best and I hope you like this! I loved the idea and I hoped to make this angsty and cute at the same time. Ily all

he was standing in front of you, all bulking muscle and all entirely alive. he was supposed to be dead, jason todd was supposed to be six feet under because you watched him get buried.

"did ya miss me?" he drawled, after the silence had stretched on for far too long. his lips spread into a grin, sharp teething glinting in the streetlights.

you stood silent, feeling like that person you were when you found out he died. it was like a piece of your soul was shattered, like jason took a chunk of your heart with him when he got kidnapped by the horrendous clown.

"what? cat's got your tongue?" he asked, squatting a bit so you were face to face. you stared at his face, examining every detail of his very alive person. his eyes were deep and haunted, if you delved in you'd surely drown in the despair he holds.

"how are you alive?" you asked, clutching your shirt as though you could prevent your heart from bleeding out of your chest. he shrugged, trying to hold onto his cocky and malicious attitude he was showing you.

"why does it matter? aren't ya happy to see me?" he grinned, hand brushing against your cheek. instinctively you leaned in, craving his touch even if he felt different. his once warm and loving hands were now cold and sinister. he had changed.

"of course i am, i just....don't understand what's happening. i was at your funeral, jason." you whispered, letting your arms drop to your sides. to his credit, his expression faltered like he was finally letting you see a glimpse of the kind boy he used to be.

"it's complicated. but im here now, baby." he said, softer this time, curling his hands around your face and resting his forehead against yours.

he was different, big and harsh, cold and traumatized. but he was loving the same, pressing you against his body and filling your heart with comfort you hadn't felt in years. he was the same boy you knew under all the rough layers of trauma and hurt.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[aesthetically-dying101]

My home is with you

A/N: idk i just love nanami so much i had to write some fluff for him, he comes home injured to his wife.

warnings: blood mention/injury mention, pre-established relationship (they're married)

don't repost/copy my work on other websites thx

Masterlist.

The quiet hum of the kettle simmering on the stove filled the dimly lit kitchen. Shadows stretched long across the walls, the soft glow of a lamp casting a golden haze over the room.

You sat at the small dining table, papers sprawled in disarray—essays from your students at Jujutsu High, meticulously penned with their observations on cursed energy theory.

You’d tried to focus, truly you had, but your thoughts wandered incessantly to your husband.

Where is he? He’s never this late. Did something happen?

Nanami Kento. Your husband. Your world.

The clock ticked louder with each passing moment, mocking your growing unease. You’d checked your phone twice already—no missed calls, no messages.

You knew the life he led.

You both did. As a professor at Jujutsu High, you understood the risks better than anyone- yet understanding didn’t make the worry any easier to bear.

Then, at last, the faint sound of the front door creaking open.

Relief and anxiety collided as you bolted from your chair.

“Kento?”

There he stood, framed in the doorway like a ghost returning from battle. His suit was torn, dirt and blood streaked across the fabric. He held one hand pressed tightly to his side, and his glasses sat askew on his face. But his eyes—his eyes softened the moment they met yours.

“I’m home,” he said, voice steady but laden with exhaustion.

Oh, Kento. “You’re hurt,” you whispered, hurrying to his side.

“It’s nothing serious,” he replied, ever the stoic. But the way he swayed on his feet betrayed him.

“Nothing serious? You’re bleeding,” you shot back, wrapping an arm around his non-injured forearm to guide him toward the couch. “Don’t argue with me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured, and you caught the faintest flicker of a smile.

Once he was seated, you darted to grab the first-aid kit, your thoughts racing. How bad is it? Why didn’t he call me? What if… No, stop. He’s here. He’s okay.

You have to focus.

Returning, you found him leaning back with his eyes closed, his hand still pressed to his side.

“Let me see,” you said gently, kneeling before him.

He opened his eyes, watching you for a moment before relenting, his hand falling away to reveal a jagged tear in his shirt and the angry wound beneath.

Your breath caught.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice horrendously calm.

“A grade-one cursed spirit,” he explained. “Its reach was longer than I anticipated. A mistake I won’t repeat.”

Your hands moved on autopilot, cutting away the ruined fabric.

“You shouldn’t be making mistakes at all,” you muttered, the edge in your voice betraying your worry. “You push yourself too hard, Ken.”

He sighed softly. “It’s my responsibility. But… I’m sorry for making you worry.”

You froze for a moment, meeting his gaze. His sincerity was almost overwhelming.

“Just promise me you’ll be more careful,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I promise,” he said without hesitation, and you believed him.

You cleaned the wound with practised care, each hiss of pain he let slip cutting into you.

“I hate seeing you like this,” you admitted.

“I know,” he said softly. “But it’s worth it, if it means protecting others. Protecting you.”

Your heart ached at his words. You finished cleaning up the wound, then helped him out of his torn suit jacket and into a soft sweater. He grumbled half-heartedly, but you ignored him, too focused on making sure he was comfortable.

Once he was settled- you didn't bandage him up, since you knew you'd force him to shower, you brought him a steaming cup of tea, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. He looked at you with something like awe, as though he couldn’t quite comprehend how much you cared for him.

“You’re spoiling me,” he said, though his tone was more grateful than teasing.

“You deserve it,” you replied, sitting down beside him. “You work so hard, Kento. Let me take care of you for once.”

The tea had barely cooled when Nanami's hand found yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. The simple gesture, so tender, sent a wave of warmth rushing through your chest. He was always like this after a rough day—quiet, a little raw, but so achingly sincere in his affection that it left you breathless.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice softer than you were used to, like the weight of the day had stripped away his usual reserve.

“For what?” you asked, a small smile tugging at your lips as you met his gaze.

“For this. For you.” His amber eyes, tired but impossibly warm, held yours. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Oh, Kento. You make it sound like I’m some miracle. You’re the one who comes home like this and still has the nerve to apologize for worrying me.”

“I mean it,” he said firmly, his hand tightening just slightly over yours. “You’re my home. My solace.”

The sincerity in his words stole your breath, and for a moment, you couldn’t do anything but look at him. How was it possible to love someone this much?

But then you noticed the way he winced as he shifted, his exhaustion pressing heavily against him.

“Alright, enough of that,” you said, standing abruptly. “Come on. You need a shower before you fall asleep on my couch.”

His brow lifted, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Your couch?”

“That’s right,” you replied with mock sternness, grabbing his hand to help him up. “You’re just a guest in this house until you stop making a habit of getting stabbed.”

A small chuckle escaped him as he rose, but the motion made him grimace, his hand briefly going to his side. “You’re ruthless.”

“And you love it,” you teased, guiding him toward the bathroom.

He didn’t deny it. How could he, when the truth was written plainly across his face every time he looked at you?

Once inside, you flicked on the light, illuminating the modest space. Steam quickly filled the air as you turned on the shower, testing the water with your hand until it was just right.

“Alright, off with the rest of it,” you said, motioning to his clothes.

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that an order, Professor?”

“Damn right it is,” you shot back, unable to resist the grin spreading across your face. “Hurry up, or I’ll start charging you for medical care.”

His lips twitched in amusement as he carefully pulled off the remains of his shirt. You tried to keep your eyes on his face—key word: tried—but it was impossible not to notice the defined lines of his chest and shoulders, even marred as they were by bruises and scars.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked, his tone dry but teasing.

You smirked, stepping closer. “Oh, absolutely. It’s not every day my handsome husband lets me ogle him half-naked.”

“You’re shameless.”

“And you married me anyway.” Your grin widened as you helped him step out of his slacks, your hands lingering on his hips for just a moment longer than necessary. “What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.”

He gave a soft laugh, the sound low and warm. “The worst, huh? I think you’ve got it backward.”

As he stepped into the shower, you leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, your eyes still on him. He noticed, of course, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement.

“You’re going to stand there the whole time?”

“Maybe,” you replied, shrugging nonchalantly. “Unless you’d rather I join you.”

Partly to ogle, but mostly to make sure he didn't faint and hit his head.

His gaze flicked to you, a spark of something dangerous and teasing in his eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you love it,” you repeated, winking.

“I do,” he admitted, his voice softer now, the teasing fading into something more earnest.

For a moment, you just watched him, the water running over his broad shoulders, his exhaustion seeming to melt away under the soothing warmth. He was beautiful, even like this—especially like this. Strong, vulnerable, wholly yours.

When he finished, you handed him a towel, your fingers brushing his as he took it. “Let me help you,” you said, your voice gentle as you moved closer.

“I’m fine—” he started, but you silenced him with a look.

“Hush. Let me take care of you.”

You dried him off carefully, your touch light but lingering, and you couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to his Adam's apple when you were done. He shivered under your lips, his breath hitching.

After that, Nanami sat on the edge of the counter, a towel draped loosely around his waist, while you stood beside him with the first-aid kit. The gash on his side looked angry and raw, the edges of the wound still faintly oozing despite the careful cleaning.

“Hold still,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm as you opened a fresh packet of antiseptic wipes.

Nanami winced slightly as the cool disinfectant made contact with his skin. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t flinch away, his gaze fixed on you. “You’ve got a steady hand,” he said, his voice calm despite the discomfort.

“Years of practice patching you up,” you replied, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “If you didn’t come home in pieces so often, I’d probably be out of practice by now.”

“Touché,” he murmured, the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes.

Once the wound was thoroughly cleaned, you applied a thin layer of antibiotic ointment, your fingers deft but gentle.

“Alright,” you said, reaching for the roll of bandages. “Hold your arm up just a little.”

He complied, the movement causing a slight hitch in his breath. You frowned, but he gave you a small shake of his head, silently reassuring you he was fine. Wrapping the bandage around his torso was methodical but intimate; your hands lingered just slightly as you secured it in place, your fingers brushing against his warm skin.

“Not too tight?” you asked, looking up at him.

“It’s fine,” he replied, his tone soft. “You always do it perfectly.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately but didn’t comment, moving on to his left arm, which bore a nasty scrape from elbow to wrist. “This one’s not as bad,” you said, wiping it clean with care. Still, the tension in his shoulders didn’t escape your notice.

As you worked, he watched you in silence, his eyes tracing the concentration etched into your face. When you finished wrapping his arm, you sat back on your heels, inspecting your work.

“There,” you said, meeting his gaze. “All patched up.”

Nanami reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

You leaned into his touch, your fingers covering his hand. “Of course I did. You’re my husband, Kento. It’s my job to take care of you.”

A small smile broke through his usual stoicism. “And you do it better than anyone else ever could.”

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand before standing and offering him your own. “Come on, let’s get you dressed and comfortable before you decide to pass out on me.”

“Still worried about me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Always,” you admitted, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “But I love you more than I’ll ever be scared for you.”

His hands found your face then, cradling it with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

When his lips met yours, it wasn’t tentative or fleeting—it was full of the kind of depth and longing that left no room for words. Nanami kissed you like a man who had faced death and walked away with the singular thought of you driving him forward. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as if to memorize the texture of your skin.

You melted into him, your hands sliding up to tangle in his damp hair, pulling him closer.

He didn’t resist, he never did.

Instead, he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a desperate kind of gentleness that made your chest ache. The world outside disappeared, the worry, the fear—it all faded, leaving only the warmth of him.

When you finally broke for air, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathing heavily. His hands slid down to your waist, steadying you as if you might slip away.

“Kento,” you whispered, your voice trembling just slightly.

His eyes opened slowly, his gaze soft and unguarded in a way only you ever saw. “What is it?”

“I hate that you keep getting hurt,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hate that you come home like this, bleeding and exhausted, and I can’t do anything to stop it.”

“You do more than you know,” he replied, his voice steady but full of emotion. “You’re the reason I come home. You’re what keeps me going.”

Before you could respond, he kissed you again, slower this time, his lips moving with a deliberate tenderness that unraveled something deep inside you. His hand slid up your back, tracing soothing circles that made your breath hitch. He kissed you as though he had all the time in the world, as though he wanted to make sure you felt every ounce of his devotion.

“Kento,” you murmured again, his name a soft plea on your lips.

“Hmm?” he replied, his lips trailing down to your jaw, then lower, pressing soft kisses along the curve of your neck. Each touch was electric, but it wasn’t rushed—it was grounding, comforting, a reaffirmation of the bond between you.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, and smiled. “You’re lucky you’re charming, you know. It’s hard to stay mad at you.”

His lips quirked upward, the faintest hint of a smile gracing his tired face. “Charming? That’s a first.”

“Don’t act so surprised,” you teased, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “You’ve been my weakness since the moment I met you.”

“Then I’m in good company,” he said softly, leaning in to kiss you again.

This time, it was different—deeper, more insistent. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you couldn’t help the soft sound that escaped you. He swallowed it greedily, his lips never leaving yours, his touch both firm and reverent.

You felt the tension in his shoulders slowly ease as the kiss stretched on, his weariness giving way to something softer, something purely you and him. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a refuge, a reminder that no matter how brutal the world outside became, this was still yours.

He was still yours.

When you finally broke apart, his thumb brushed over your swollen lips, his expression tender. “You’re everything,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

“So are you,” you replied, your hand sliding up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “And I’ll remind you of that every day if I have to.”

For a moment, you both simply held each other, the warmth of his body grounding you. Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, you grinned mischievously.

“You know,” you began, your fingers teasing at the hem of his sweater, “if I weren’t your wife, I’d say this whole half-naked, battle-worn thing you’ve got going on is really working for you.”

He gave a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’d say that even if you weren’t my wife?”

“Oh, definitely,” you said, your grin widening. “I’d probably make some terribly inappropriate comment about wanting to take care of you and then throw myself at you.”

“Sounds familiar,” he teased, his tone dry but warm.

You laughed, your head falling to his chest as your shoulders shook with mirth. “Touché.”

The laughter softened into something quieter, more intimate, as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, “you’re the reason I fight as hard as I do. It’s not just about protecting people—it’s about making sure I get to come home to you.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and you leaned up to kiss him again, slow and lingering.

“And I’ll always be here waiting,” you whispered against his lips.

For a while, you simply stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, exchanging soft kisses and quiet words. It was only when you noticed how his eyelids drooped, exhaustion finally catching up to him, that you pulled back.

“Alright, Mr. Nanami,” you said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “Time to get you to bed.”

He grumbled but didn’t protest as you helped him up and guided him to your room. Once under the covers, he pulled you close, his arm draping over your waist as if to keep you anchored to him.

“Goodnight, Kento,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, his voice heavy with sleep. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you replied, your heart full and warm as you drifted off, safe in the arms of the man who was your world.

A/N: anyways yeah, hes so babygirl, major slay, i want to like.. eat him or smth (in a nice way)

:)