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wisteria-lodge · 16 hours ago

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SORTING DISNEY LADIES (1999-2004)

Part 1 - Disney Ladies 1937-1985

Part 2 - Disney Ladies 1988-1993

Part 3 - Disney Ladies 1995-1998

I’m going in chronological order, and doing both A Squad and B Squad, because I’m interested in tracking how the ideal “disney girl” has changed in the last (almost) 90 years. Right now I’m only looking at the human-shaped heroines of Disney animated theatrical releases. A more detailed break-down of the system I’m using is right here, but the basics are these:

PRIMARY (ie MOTIVE)

BADGER ~ Loyal to the group.

SNAKE ~ Loyal to yourself and your Important People.

LION ~ Subconscious Idealist. Ideals are linked to feelings and instincts.

BIRD ~ Conscious Idealist. Ideals are linked to built systems and external facts.

SECONDARY (ie METHOD)

BADGER ~ Connect with the group. Make allies, work steadily and well. Be whatever the situation calls for. If you find a locked door, knock.

SNAKE ~ Connect with the environment. Notice things. Tell people what they want to hear. If you find a locked door, get in through the window.

BIRD ~ Collect skills, tools, knowledge, personas, useful friends. If you find a locked door, track down the key or learn to pick the lock.

LION ~ Be honest, be direct, speak your truth. Either the obstacle is going down or you are. If you find a locked door, kick it in.

JANE PORTER (1999)

(& Tarzan, Kerchack)

Disney’s Tarzan is a ridiculously Snake primary movie. Like, just to make this really, really clear, the first thing we see - the absolute cold open, is -

Burning ship! Storm! Fire! Tarzan’s parents get into a lifeboat! He looks at her. She looks at him. Phil Collins --

PUT YOUR FAITH IN WHAT YOU MOST BELEEEIVE IN!!!!!!

We get it. You can lose literally everything, but if you’ve still got your Person, you’re going to be OK.

And this movie’s ethos is definitely Snake, not Loyalist. Badger primaries do not get a flattering edit. The antagonist for the first half is Tarzan’s adoptive fatherKerchack, who is deeply protective of his band of gorillas (all girls, by the way. He's the only guy. Which is how gorillas work, and the film doesn’t exactly bring attention to it, but still. Interesting detail.) He’s a loud Badger primary: the only thing that matters is keeping his family out of danger, and from his perspective Tarzan is a problem from day one. He is too obviously an outsider, not a true member of the community, and Kerchack makes it clear that Tarzan is not his son. “You can’t learn to be one of us," he says.

The antagonist for the second half of the film (it’s a weirdly structured film) is the Jaguar/Clayton. They are 100% the same entity. Clayton shows up immediately after the Jaguar dies, and shows up wearing the exact same color palette. There is a recurring misunderstanding where Tarzan refers to the sound of a gunshot as ��Clayton.” This is not supposed to be a person, this is violence personified.

Clayton is also our visual representation of The British Empire/Colonialism, with his spats and his khakis and little pencil mustache, and Brian Blessed doing his voice. He is there to grab the resources (gorillas) and take them back to England. So… that means we’ve got some more Toxic Badger going on here too.

In this film, the Badger primary idea of “community” is framed as stifling, artificial, at odds with nature. Clayton, Jane, and Jane’s father show up in the jungle dressed all wrong, and while the sympathetic Porters gradually shed layers, Clayton’s character design never changes. He does not learn to adapt to the jungle, he is only England™

There’s also the recurring joke of Jane’s “Proper Victorian Lady” persona. It’s very useful for getting Clayton specifically to do things for her… but she also brings it out in moments where it seems false and not terribly appropriate. Like when she’s talking to monkeys, or to Tarzan. The second she realizes that Tarzan can speak English she snaps into “Proper Victorian Lady” instead of following up on the attraction that’s clearly there. She’s holding him at arm's length, and why??? The moment where he comes out dressed in European clothing is bittersweet, like Tarzan is hiding or losing part of himself. “Society” is at odds with instinct/freedom/love, and in terms of Primary, that’s the major conflict between Tarzan and Jane.

JANE. Tarzan, you can't imagine what's in store for you. You're going to see the world. Everyone's going to want to meet you. Kings, scientists and famous writers. (...) TARZAN. And I'll be with Jane.

Jane is talking like a Badger (you’ll be part of the community.) Tarzan is talking like a Snake (I’ll be with you.) And Jane DOES feel like a Badger through most of the movie. She talks a good game. But right at the end - when it really comes down to it - that’s not the call she makes.

JANE. I belong in England, with you and people and — PROFESSOR PORTER. But you love him. Go on.

At which point Jane joyfully jumps off the boat and swims to shore, implying that her Badger primary was a model, and she was always a Snake primary underneath.

Jane Porter might model Double Badger extremely well, but she’s actually a double Snake like Megara. She’ll go all Proper Victorian Lady to flatter Clayton, but she’ll also manipulate the baby monkey (“Oh I can’t believe you fell for that one”) before commenting on how its performance isn’t quite up to her standards (“Don’t give me those crocodile tears.”) She’s also something of a Single-Player Environment snake. When she gets comfortable, she starts learning how to use the things in her environment. She’s delighted when she learns she can use her parasol as a weapon. Jane also seems to pick up that Tarzan is a Bird secondary, and interacts with him accordingly. She puts together an entire slideshow of buildings and customs and art from the mainland, and he is riveted.

(Tarzan is definitely a Bird secondary: he's an inventor, he makes weapons, he loves teaching himself things. He’s much more tactical than Kerchak, who uses his lion secondary to literally charge into fights. Phil Collins tells us all we need to know about Tarzan with the lyrics: “I want to know / Can you show me?” Perfect Snake Bird anthem.)

When we see Jane at the very end of the film she’s entirely improvisational and fluid, surfing the vines with Tarzan, the two of them so in sync and moving together so beautifully. It’s a gorgeous bit of animation. I definitely get a sense of the joy she feels at being so unconstrained and evenly matched, which is another thing that makes me say Snake secondary.

KIDADIKASH “KIDA” NEDAKAH (2001)

(& Milo, King Kashekim)

Atlantis is so close to being a really good movie. All it needs is a slightly longer runtime, and like… two less characters. (Mole and Cookie. Don’t need them.) Kida gets comparatively little screen time compared to some of the other ladies on this list, but she has enough presence and a cool enough design that she easily earns heroine status. It also helps that she’s basically the plot.

Kida wants to restore the traditions and knowledge her people have lost, and that motivates pretty much everything she does. She finds the history and culture of her ancestors deeply important, comforting and grounding in a very Badger primary sort of way, and laments that “We were once a great people. Now we live in ruins. The kings of our past would weep if they could see how far we have fallen.” She is very much not Jane, who needs to shake off “civilization” in order to live her best life.

The problem though, is that Kida falls into a very Badger primary trap. When she’s asked to give up everything to protect the group - including her well-being and identity - she does it without a second thought. She gets turned/turns herself into a magic crystal in order to power her civilization while it’s under threat, and I cannot think of a better metaphor of what it means to be an Invisible Badger, who is only the group with no identity outside it.

The ‘Heart of Atlantis’ crystal that “thrives on the collective emotions of all who came before us [and] in return, provides power, longevity, protection” is just a good metaphor for a ‘Badger Primary’ in general. Also, the way that the Atlantean King tries to weaponize it, ultimately destroying his civilization, is a good metaphor for the way a Badger primary can Explode, becoming authoritarian and harmful to the same people it is trying to protect.

Clearly the film itself is not a fan of this decision, as our protagonist Milo loves Kida and does everything he can to un-crystal her. I think it’s implied that his love is one of the main things tethering her to humanity? Still, I would say that this film, unlike Tarzan, has a pretty Badger ethos. King Kashekim is our tragic misguided Snake primary, willing to let his whole civilization crumble so long as he gets to keep his daughter, and our villains seem to be mostly Hedonist Snake treasure hunters, willing to destroy a culture so long as they get paid. The film is definitely critical of certain types of Badger primaries, but ends on a note of collectivism. Milo has finally found a community that values him, and he stays behind to help Kida, now the Atlantean Queen, rebuild her civilization. She’s still a Badger, just one with better boundaries.

She’s also a Lion secondary. Kida moves in straight lines, speaks her mind, and doesn’t care if you have a problem with that. She does the thing where she’s so honest and blunt it’s almost rude. I suspect that her father is also a Lion secondary - we know that he was reckless and militaristic when he was young, and he seems positive that if Kida even knew about the Heart of Atlantis, she would make the Lion secondary call and dive headfirst into it. Sadly, in the main timeline of the movie the King’s secondary is extremely burned, and he’s basically incapable of any kind of action.

Milo has an idealistic Lion primary that is a bit Burnt at the start of the film. When we meet him, he’s spent years being told that everything he believes is a joke, and he’s finally starting to doubt himself, scraping by just using his Bird secondary. Like a lot of Burnt Lions, Milo latches onto someone (Kida) for their confidence and their purpose. Luckily, once he unBurns his primary there's a Paragon Lion underneath there that matches up very well with her Badger.

LILO PELEKAI (2002)

Lilo is an interesting one to sort, because she’s little - and also kinda going through it. Her parents died in a (fairly recent) car crash, and even though they’re not *on screen* and honestly mentioned very little… their absence is felt. Lilo's unofficial family motto is “Ohana means family, family means nobody gets left behind.” But objectively, Lilo’s parents did her behind, and she spends the entire film trying to reconcile that.

Lilo is very young, dealing with a tragedy, and I also think the interpretation that she’s on the autism spectrum makes a lot of sense. We see her having meltdowns, struggling to transition from one activity/location to another, she clearly wants to make these connections with kids her own age, but it’s just… not working out. All of that could absolutely point to a five (six?) year old on the spectrum. So the question becomes - okay, so is Lilo acting this way because that’s her personality, or is she acting this way because of the autism/trauma? That's a question I get a lot, and my answer is… I don’t think the traits this system is interested in are created out of nowhere. But, circumstances can absolutely make them louder or softer.

Like, Lilo has a number of very strict rules that tip over into magical thinking. She can only eat peanut butter sandwiches because she has to feed part of her sandwich to her fish, and she can’t feed her fish tuna (dead fish) because that’s “an abomination.” It’s very important that she keeps her fish happy because he controls the weather. And THAT’S important… because her parents died in a rainstorm. All of this is 100% a coping mechanism: Lilo is trying to create rules in a chaotic world to feel safer. She’s after a sense of control. This also ties into her fascination with 'goodness' versus 'badness:' she’ll say things like “I’ll be good I promise,” worry about being an “abomination,” and make voodoo dolls because “my friends need to be punished.” It’s something she's focused on, and I think it’s because she is aware that… she’s kind of a problem.

Her older sister Nani loves her… but Nani also loses her patience (she’s 21, 22 at most) and Lilo is aware that she stresses out her sister and makes her life more difficult. But, she has trouble changing her behavior because she's, you know, a traumatized autistic six-year-old. Which is really important when it comes to understanding Lilo’s relationship with Stitch. On one level, she identifies the way he leaves all this destruction in his wake. He makes her look better by comparison, and I think she also sees a path towards redemption in teaching Stitch to be “good” (ie - useful and less weird.) When she tells him “You wreck everything you touch, why not try to make something” - I think she’s projecting, and really talking about herself. If Lilo is teaching Stitch to be good, then she has a purpose, and a way to affect the world. We know that feeling powerless is a big thing for Lilo.

So, if I’m putting her in the SHC system, she is definitely an External primary. None of this is about being true to your heart or even being true to another person, this is trying to figure out the rules of the world and putting together a workable system to live with. This focus on morality and punishment is also something I see a lot with young External primaries. While this trait might have been exaggerated by the events of Lilo's life, I do think it’s something that was just in her the whole time.

At first I thought she was a Badger, because of the way Lilo focuses on the importance of family. Also, her first instinct is to outgroup Stitch when she thinks he betrayed her: “You’re one of them - get out of here.” But “Ohana means family” seems like it was something her parents said a lot, and ‘Stitch isn’t one of us,’ is something she’s heard from Nani (absolutely a Badger primary.) I think a big reason Lilo values hula dancing is because hula dancing is important to Nani.

So now I’m leaning towards Lilo being a young Bird, trying to cobble together a system for understanding the world under non-ideal circumstances. She’s very comfortable believing fantastical things, and is cool with accepting that Stitch is a weird kind of dog. Like Atlantis, Lilo and Stitch is lightly critical of that Badger ethos: the group is wonderful, yes - but the group will not always be there. The conclusion Lilo (and the film) comes to is ‘Ohana means family, family means never getting left behind… but sometimes people leave. Either because they want to, or because they have to. What you have to do is remember them. You make them part of yourself. As Lilo puts it, "I’ll remember you, though. I remember everyone that leaves." I think this is such a lovely way of understanding Bird primaries, which unfortunately have a reputation for being cold and detached.

In terms of secondary, I think Lilo is probably a Lion. She’s very direct, very honest, terrible at lying, and unintentionally trails destruction. Nani tries to give her a kind of script to follow when the social worker comes over - but even in the moment she seems to know it’s kind of a lost cause. However, Lilo is also really young and the narrative doesn’t give her the opportunity to solve many problems. So I would not be surprised if Lilo's secondary looks different when she gets older. She is fascinated by Stitch, and Stitch is a shapeshifter-mimic. He’s kind of a cartoon version of a Snake secondary. Maybe that's a clue that Lilo's best self is a Snake Secondary too, but she hasn’t built a bridge to that part of herself yet. Eh, I could see it either way. Definitely an Improvisational secondary though.

NANI PELEKAI (2002)

Nani is a very Burnt Badger primary. There’s this recurring thing with her and her love interest David, where they’re kinda dating, or were dating… either way, Nani can’t quite bring herself to let him into her life. Even though she likes him, he likes her, and he even gets along with Lilo. She spends a lot of the film looking like she’s 100% focused on her little sister in a Snake primary way… but Burnt Badgers look like miserable, stressed-out Snakes, and that is absolutely Nani. She clearly used to have a big community - at one point she even tries to leverage it for a job. But I think she responded to the death of her parents by closing up, refusing to let anyone new close to her. She might lose them too, and that would hurt too much.

This film is also really good at putting Nani in situations that would be really rough on a Badger primary specifically. Nani clearly feels deeply connected to her Hawaiian culture - she’s an accomplished hula dancer, she loves surfing, and in the most heartbreaking scene of the movie she sings “Aloha Oe” to Lilo, when she thinks child protective services are going to take her away in the morning. This is famously a song written by deposed Hawaiian Queen Liliʻuokalani, after she was forced to leave her people. These are all things that Nani pulls on to give her strength. However… she is also working as an honestly quite objectified waitress/hula dancer in a theme park-ified version of Hawaii catering to tourists. She’s clearly not happy there, and it's an important moment when she leaves.

Even when she’s in really serious trouble, Nani can’t bring herself to tell anyone what’s going on, to get help or even just emotional support - and that's the Burnt Badger talking. When she is absolutely at her wit’s end and has no idea what to do, she grabs David and she grabs Lilo and they all go surfing. It’s that Badger primary need for community, even if there’s no way that community is going to help.

Nani is probably a Bird secondary. She practices when she's nervous and has a lot of skills - but is much more overwhelmed during the wacky finale than Lilo, and definitely needs a second to get it together and figure out the situation. She conceptualizes ‘dealing with Lilo’ as a skill that she has learned and gotten better at: she’ll build little ‘traps’ to catch her younger sister, and can translate things into “Lilo.” I think she may have constructed a bit of an Actor Bird model for dealing with Lilo (and another for dealing with her boss.) Lilo will use bits of her system to argue with Nani, and clearly expects this strategy to work.

LILO. Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind, or forgotten. NANI. I hate when you use ‘ohana’ against me.

CAPTAIN AMELIA SMOLLET (2002)

If Nani and Kida's share a deep connection their cultural history, Captain Amelia and Kida share this incredibly direct, blunt, borderline rude Lion secondary. Only Amelia's is is less 'cultural misunderstanding' and more just... British.

Captain Amelia absolutely rubs Jim Hawkins and Doctor Doppler the wrong way at first (an occupational hazard of being a very loud Lion secondary.) But she also comes off as extremely trustworthy. Amelia is a version of Robert Louis Stevenson’s Alexander Smollett (just also a cat girl, and in space) and this bit from Treasure Island suits Treasure Planet equally well: “Contrary to all my notions, I believe you have managed to get two honest men on board with you, that man [Captain Smollet] and John Silver.”

Of course, Captain Amelia wins over Jim and Doppler once they understand that she wants her crew to be equally direct right back at her. She wants all the information, as quickly as possible, so she can make the best decisions. Her eyes light up when Doppler tells her she’s wrong about how supernovas work... because she’s able to use the new knowledge to create a daredevil way to escape the situation. Near the end of the film, Jim comes up with a crazy solution that involves a piece of alien tech. He knows how the tech works, doesn’t have time to explain it. But because they’ve had enough practice being honest with each other, Amelia just does what he says - no questions asked.

This is also why she gets so offended when John Silver tries to flatter her… and Silver’s good at flattering. He’s good at telling people what they want to hear. But Amelia tells him to “keep that kind of flim-flammery for your space court floozies” because of course the two captains on opposite sides of the mutiny are foils. Silver charms Jim, makes him feel special. Captain Amelia tells him point-blank when he’s being an idiot and gives him no special treatment. The nuanced position this film takes is that Jim… kinda needs both.

In this movie about treasure hunting, Captain Amelia is the only person who doesn’t seem to care about the “Loot of a Thousand Worlds.” She is here to do her job. Her speech at her First Mate’s funeral makes her priorities very clear: “Mr. Arrow was a fine spacer. Finer than most of us can ever hope to be. But he knew the risks, as do we all. Resume your posts. We carry on.” Her highest praise is that Arrow did his job well... and part of doing your job well is making peace with the fact that you might not make it out alive. She takes her job, her title, and her ship extremely seriously.

So, Amelia is definitely an Idealist primary, and her Cause seems to revolve around being the best Captain possible and… going on adventures. This is also the case with Doppler, who she ends up with at the end. He frames his treasure-hunting trip in very Badger primary language when he’s talking to Jim’s very Badger Primary mom… but in reality he just wants to go on an adventure.

I could honestly see either Lion or Bird primary for Amelia. But, the fact that she’s ex-military and still in good enough standing to write Jim a recommendation letter makes me lean Bird. (I think a Double Lion Amelia would have burned more bridges.) Also, the rules and organizational system she lives by seem to exist outside of her in a very Commodore Norrington sort of way. It’s not something she feels internally, and this is comforting. Honestly, Amelia gives off very Commodore Norrington energy in general, and he’s a pretty loud Bird primary.

HELEN "ELASTIGIRL" PARR (2004)

( & Bob/Mr. Incredible, Edna Mode)

Helen’s superpower is ‘flexibility,’ so of course she’s going to be an Improvisational secondary. I'm going with Lion instead of Snake because - like Captain Amelia and Kida - Helen is very comfortable being incredibly direct. She actively sets up confrontations, waiting in the dark for Bob after he stays out late with Frozone, then actually getting in a plane to confront him when she thinks that he’s having an affair.

Bob Parr is also a Lion secondary, and unlike Helen (who is able to turn down the volume during Dash's parent-teacher conference) he has trouble even softening what he says, phrasing something in a way that’s palatable to the person he’s talking to. That trait gets him in trouble with Buddy/Syndrome, then his boss at the insurance company, and there’s also the implication that the government keeps relocating them because Bob keeps blowing their cover. (This is 100% the case in a cut scene set at a neighborhood barbecue where Bob appears to cut off a finger, and instead breaks the knife.)

I also think the fact that Helen and Bob are both Lion secondaries is a big part of what makes their relationship functional. Lion secondaries seem to really value the opportunity to have arguments and fights… while also knowing the interaction is fundamentally safe, and isn’t going to spill over into the other parts of their life. When Bob gets back late, he and Helen fight in a way that honestly just seems like their way of blowing off steam. They’re both able to turn it off completely when the kids walk into the room.

Helen also calls herself out for “overreacting” and has to force herself to take a moment to think when she first figures out that Bob is lying, a very Lion secondary moment. She gives Violet the insanely Lion secondary advice that “When the time comes, you’ll know what to do. It’s in your blood.” Edna Mode is also a cartoonishly loud Lion secondary, and I'll bet that shared secondary is a big part of the reason she adores the Parrs. Also, Helen loves her motorcycles, which at least in fiction are very Lion-secondary coded.

Helen’s flexibility extends to her primary as well. When we first meet Elastigirl in the “documentary” prologue, she’s completely happy doing the superhero thing while Mr. Incredible is already thinking about settling down. But, in the main timeline of the movie, Helen seems perfectly happy doing the suburbia thing and raising the kids. Then in the sequel, after the Deavors convince her that she can do the most good by being a poster child for non-threatening Supers, she has a fantastic time doing that. The fact that she’s able to change her worldview so easily without having a big emotional crisis about it (the way that Bob does) makes me think she’s probably a Bird primary. That difference in primaries seems to be where most of the friction in their relationship comes from.

Helen actually tells us her philosophy in the sequel: “If laws are unjust there are laws to change them, otherwise it’s chaos” and “World is what it is, we have to adapt.” It’s a bit Badger flavored - work within the system, adapt to the system - but the way she lays it out is Bird. And then she gets a little tipsy and starts debating philosophy with the villain for fun. Which is a very Bird primary activity.

VIOLET PARR (2004)

(& Dash)

Violet feels very at odds with both her family and her world… and since she’s a Badger primary, that’s especially rough. She wants to fit into a community, but there is no community for her. She’s the only member of the family who actively does not want her powers: “We act normal, Mom! I want to be normal (...) What do you know about normal? What does anyone in this family know about normal?” We also get the line, “Mom and Dad’s lives might be in danger, or worse - their marriage.” Which is definitely a joke about Violet’s slightly cartoonish Badger primary priorities.

It makes absolute sense that she’s so hung up on the idea of popular dreamboat Tony, at the center of so much community. It’s exactly what she wants. And because she herself is very not normal, she tries to hide - both with her superpower and with her hair. Violet is the first computer animated character who wears their hair long and loose, and the animators put in the effort because it’s so tied in with her character. As she gets more and more in tune with her family over the course of the film, the way Violet wears her hair changes. Her mom tucks it behind her ear, her dad comments that he likes this new way she’s wearing it better. She eventually pushes it back with a headband because she’s not hiding from them anymore. Violet is happy and effective being a part of the superhero team that is her family. It’s interesting that her powers (invisiblity, creating force-fields around herself) are incredibly useful support and team-attack powers, but not that useful on their own.

However, another source of friction between Violet and the rest of the family is the fact that she’s the only one who isn’t a Lion secondary. Her little brother Dash absolutely is. (He’s probably a Double Lion like his father, they’ve both even got a little of that Glory Hound Lion primary thing.) But Violet’s powers keep her out of sight, the opposite of confrontational. It took me a second to recognize her as a Snake secondary, because most fictional Snakes are much more comfortable around people… but Violet is also in a less-than-ideal situation. Still, she is smart and observant, good at picking up on what’s going on around her, and using those things to solve problems. It’s her idea to track down Syndrome using the coordinates he’s put in the rocket, and in the sequel she’s the one who figures out how to use Jack Jack like a gun, then successfully turns the out-of-control ship around.

Violet is sneaky, and uses her abilities to spy on her parents, and to stow away on her mom's trip. She doesn’t like using her snake secondary at other people - she’s a very self-contained person - but she is more than happy to direct it out at the world. Violet is also perceptive when it comes to people, and will often just come right out and say things like “Are we going to talk about it… the elephant in the room” or “I think Dad has made some excellent progress today, but I think it’s time we wind down now.”

Tl;dr

Jane ~ Snake / Snake, models Badger / Badger

Tarzan ~ Snake / Bird

Kerchack ~ Badger / Lion

Kida ~ Badger / Lion

King Kashekim ~ Snake / Burnt Lion

Milo ~ Burnt Lion / Bird

Lilo ~ Bird / Lion (possibly Bird / Snake)

Nani ~ Burnt Badger / Bird

Captain Amelia ~ Bird / Lion

Helen/Elastigirl ~ Bird / Lion

Violet ~ Badger / Snake

Dash ~ Lion / Lion

Bob/Mr. Incredible ~ Lion / Lion

Edna Mode ~ Bird / Lion

(art credit to Cursed Concepts for the beautiful pins I have used to illustrate this series. They're actually having a charity sale right now (December 27th-30th) to benefit Make A Wish, so head on over if you like their style and want to maybe snag a deep cut like Jane, Giselle, or Eilonwy.)

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koolades-world · 2 days ago

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for the secret santa with @obeymeholidayexchange, i wrote something for Pen! (you can find them over at twitter and insta at PensAerts :)) i also uploaded it to ao3, which you can find here!

sorry this is after christmas! i intended to have it to you on christmas but i thought i lost everything thanks to an issue with the program i use to write. no clue what happened but basically everything recent just vanished. it eventually fixed itself, but by that point, i'd already restarted so i had two half finished pieces. i decided to combine them and just have it be longer. tried my best to get it to flow! i decided to go with the prompt of purgatory hall members decorate the common room together! really hope you enjoy <3

December First

While the sun never rose in the Devildom, Luke rose out of bed at what was presumably the crack on dawn on the first of December without an alarm. His internal alarm knew that the time had finally come. Without being so silent, he dashed around his room, getting ready for the day. Once he was changed, he flung open the doors to his closet, searching for one box in particular. Usually, he'd ask for help getting it down, but he didn't have time for that today. Not when he had Christmas cheer to spread.

So, he carefully moved the chair from his desk, and placed it near the shelf that held his special Christmas box. He had to stand on his tippy toes, but he was eventually able to reach the box. Luke placed it on his bed, and opened it with glee. He was so excited, that he didn't bother to return the chair to its proper place. The first thing he did was don the cute reindeer headband he'd dug out. He made sure each of the bells attached worked by ringing each one individually. He also tested the lights, and ran through each setting. The second thing he did was gather three more festive headbands for his housemates. If they weren't awake, they would be soon. They had a lot of work to do, after all!

He hurried off to the bathroom to brush his teeth and comb his hair. He was in so much of a rush, in fact, that he had forgotten to take off his headband, and almost combed it in his haste. Once he was done there, he scurried down the stairs.

Good, he thought. He was the first one awake. That meant his plan would be much easier to execute. He knew his housemates were much less enthusiastic about decorating for Christmas as soon as December rolled around. He'd actually been ready weeks ago, but Simeon had asked him to refrain. This was one of the few times they openly disagreed. Simeon thought Christmas ought to be just for December, while Luke wanted Christmas to start as soon as Halloween was over.

Luke had always been very enthusiastic about celebrating birthdays. At least a month before someone's birthday rolled around, Luke was already planning exactly how to make their special day perfect. If you took a step back, Christmas was a birthday! So, really, he was just doing as he normally would. It just happened to be the birthday of his boss' son that he didn't personally know, nor would any of the presents or decorations be for him. A little odd, but he tried not to think about that too hard. He just wanted to enjoy the holiday.

The first step of his plan involved making a festive breakfast. How could you be in the true Christmas spirit without a hot chocolate? He dragged his little stool, which Barbatos had bought for him so he could reach the kitchen appliances, over to the stove so he could start preparing an entire pot. He expected all three of his housemates to partake, so he needed enough to share with everyone.

As he was pouring the milk into the pot, he heard a heavy sigh behind him. Luke jumped and slowly spun around with a guilty grin on his face. His headband jingled as he moved, making him feel like a little clown. He was greeted with a very exasperated looking Simeon. "Hello." Luke waved as if he wasn't standing over the stove at about six in the morning in a reindeer headband.

"Good morning, Luke." Simeon smiled knowingly. He didn't ask what Luke had been up to, but they both knew that the other knew what was happening.

"Do you want some hot chocolate?" Luke weakly offered.

"Are you already preparing for the holidays?" Simeon already knew what his answer would be.

"Yes…" Luke hung his head, as if he had been caught doing something he knew was wrong.

"Is there anything I can help with?" Instead of giving whatever answer Luke had been expected, Simeon offered his assistance. When Luke's eyes sparkled, he couldn't help but let any stern facade that might have reminded slip away.

"Thank you!" Luke threw his arms around his mentor. With a chuckle, Simeon squeezed him back. "For breakfast, I was thinking confetti pancakes, but with festive sprinkles." Luke reached as far as he could to try and reach a canister of sprinkles that was sitting out on the counter. Simeon grabbed them for him, and read the packaging.

"Extra festive holiday sprinkles?" Simeon questioned.

"Is there something wrong with them?" Luke narrowed his eyes, feeling a little insecure about his choice.

"No, no. They're very adorable. Just what makes them 'extra' festive, though?" Simeon made sure to quickly dispel the younger angel's obvious worries.

"Oh. I'm not really sure." Luke furrowed his eyebrows. The pair bounced ideas off each other as to what made the sprinkles extra festive as they made breakfast. The pancakes turned out well, besides the fact that for whatever reason, the color from the snowflake sprinkles leeched out. Luke said it looked almost like snow had fallen on their breakfast, and Simeon much preferred to look at it that way over mulling over why that had happened.

However, by the time everything was ready, their other two housemates weren't awake yet. The idea of starting to eat without them made him feel guilty. He'd started making the breakfast with the intention of sharing it as a surprise. It was less of a surprise, considering Simeon had helped, but at the very least, it could still be a surprise for the other two.

"Should we go wake them up?" Luke asked. Each plate was set out, and the pancakes were set out on the table.

"Go see if they're awake." Simeon stepped back into the kitchen, waving the younger angel away.

"You don't want to come with me?" Luke gathered his remaining festive headbands. After a little debating, he decided to give the candy cane headband to Simeon. Candy canes were his favorite, after all. Simeon took it from him without a second thought, and put it on.

"I'm certain you and Mc are the only two that can safely interrupt Raphael's beauty rest." Simeon chuckled nervously. "Besides, I know Solomon will ask for bacon. Do you know if we have any?"

Luke wasn't sure if what Simeon was saying was true, but went along with it anyways. "I think we do." After that, Luke ventured off up the stairs in search of their other housemates. To his shock, he ran into Solomon in the hallway as he was exiting the bathroom.

"Good morning, Luke!" He exclaimed. In his arms was a damp towel, and a couple toiletries.

"Good morning! I was looking for you. Simeon and I made breakfast!" Luke looked between the two remaining headbands, and passed Solomon the one that resembled a Christmas tree.

"These are cute. You don't mind that my hair is still wet, do you?" Solomon paused before putting it on.

"I don't." With Luke's affirmation, he snapped the headband on.

"Thank you. I'll be down shortly then. I have to attend to something I was working on first." Solomon seemed eager to escape the conversation in order to get back to his room. Luke was left alone in the hall, wondering what could've been so important that he wouldn't rush to festivities. He could hear the door snap shut.

With a shrug, he continued down the hall the Raphael's room. He'd never been worried about waking him up in the past, but Simeon's aversion to doing so made him rethink his choice.

No, what was he thinking? Raphael needed to know about the festivities he had planned for the day, and he needed to know now. He gently knocked, and waited to hear back. When he heard no response, he knocked harder. "Raphael?" He pushed open the door slightly. He was astonished again to find that he wasn't in his room. His bed was neatly made, meaning that he likely wasn't there anymore.

What could he be doing at this time of day? Maybe he was out training? That seemed the most likely. But, he needed to find him to be sure. He started his search outside, but that turned up nothing. Besides, Luke would've seen him exit the house. Raphael must've stayed inside, then. He peeked into every room in search of him, and followed every noise in hope it would give him any clues. After about ten minutes, Luke felt as if he'd checked everywhere.

Luke sat down in the hallway with a huff. He felt his stomach rumble mid-thought. He wasn't sure where Raphael could've gone, but he needed to figure out fast. Otherwise, his stomach might start eating itself like he heard Solomon mention one time. This thought clouded his mind, but he still wracked his brain for any ideas. As he was doing just that, he heard the ceiling above him creak loudly, and a cloud of dust rained down onto him. Luke let out a loud sneeze, and moved out of the way, just in case it happened again.

The only possible origin of that could've come from the attic. The thought of going into the attic made him shudder. It was so dark and dusty up there, and it felt like something was looming in each dark corner. Behind him, one of the attic doors swung open, and the ladder fell down with a bang. Luke almost jumped out of his skin, and he promptly ducked behind the nearest hall table. He peaked his head from behind the table, observing to see if anything might happen.

There must've been a reason it opened as suddenly as it did. In his waiting with baited breath, he realized he hadn't checked up there yet. There was no reason to, right? The last thing he wanted was to check in the creepiest place known to angels. Who knows what could be up there?

But then he remembered the reason he had been looking in the first place. What if Raphael needed his help? What if something had dragged him up there, and he needed Luke's help? With the stakes in mind, he sucked in a deep breath and started up the ladder.

After he pulled himself up the final rung, he felt consumed by the darkness. "Hello?" He carefully stepped forward, and turned the lights on his headband back on. It wasn't much, but Luke needed all the help he could get. Behind him, he heard the shuffling of boxes. He whirled around, searching for the source of the sound. It was too dark to see exactly where it had come from, though.

"If someone is there, come on out." He bravely squared his shoulders and stood as tall as he could. A terrifying figure came out from behind a large stack of boxes. It was large, and was shaped like a spike. Various other spikes protruded all over. Luke couldn't even begin to imagine what that thing was. The Devildom was full of odd and dangerous creatures, but he'd never seen anything like this one.

He immediately froze. He hadn't expected anything to actually be there, or for his demands to be respected. He silently said his goodbyes to everyone he loved, and braced for whatever was about to happen. He took a step backwards, and nearly tumbled back down to the previous floor. The last thing he expected, however, was for this figure to reach out and snag him by the front of his shirt. He was yanked back up and towards the mystery figure.

"Luke. What are you doing up here?" Raphael asked, dusting him off gently.

"What are YOU doing up here? I thought I was about to die." He let out a deep breath, clutching his chest.

"I'm setting up the Christmas tree." After looking closer, Luke realized the spiky thing he'd been carrying was the pieces of their tree. "I figured you'd want the help, so I got a head start." He tossed the pieces down the opening on the floor, letting them clatter to the ground. The sentiment warmed Luke's heart, despite the fact that he'd given him a heart attack in the process

"I thought you were a monster." Luke admitted shyly. Raphael didn't respond, but Luke knew he was amused. "Oh, right! Simeon and I made breakfast. I was looking for you to tell you." He felt stupid for forgetting the entire point of his mission.

"Let's head down then. The rest of the decoration can wait until after" Raphael descended the ladder. Luke went down after him, and although he made it down safely, Raphael seemed ready to catch him again if needed. In return, Luke helped him carry the parts of the tree down the stairs and together, they staked out a spot to put it. Before they headed back to the dining room, Luke threw his arms around Raphael's middle.

"Thank you." Luke then put the last headband on Raphael's head, which was gingerbread themed, with a little help from Raph himself.

"For what?" After realizing that Luke wasn't going to be letting go, he hugged him back, the ghost of a smile on his face.

"For being in the Christmas spirit, of course! And saving me, too." Luke was grateful for him, and he felt like he didn't say it enough. "In general, too. You're always there for me!" Raphael seemed like he was at a loss for words, and when Luke looked up, he was silently smiling down at him. With one more tight squeeze, Luke let go.

"Breakfast has been getting cold for forever now! Let's go eat so we can put this together." Luke began to tug Raphael back towards the kitchen, where hopefully the others were waiting. Raphael followed without resistance.

Once they finally arrived at the kitchen, it felt like hours had passed. Simeon and Solomon were in the kitchen, like he'd hoped. The distinct, biting smell of coffee filled the air, cutting through every other scent with ease. Simeon was enjoying the homemade hot chocolate, while it seemed as if Solomon had made himself a coffee. When Luke finally came back with Raphael in tow, they could all enjoy breakfast together. Luke recounted the story, mouth half-full of pancake the entire time. He was glad everyone was so receptive to Luke brining Christmas to the Hall as soon as possible.

As soon as he was finished eating (which was at record speed), Luke popped out of his chair, washed his dishes, and moved his legs as fast as they would go to the living room. He and Raphael had decided the tree would look best in the corner of the living room. That way, they could enjoy it every time they sat there as opposed to putting it somewhere like the foyer. He did what he could until someone taller came to help him out. With the help of Solomon, they assembled the tree, and plugged it in. The lights glimmered a pale blue. While Luke liked it, he decided the tree needed much more color.

Again, with Solomon as an assistant, he headed back up to the attic. Together, they dug around before realizing Raphael had already done that for them. All the Christmas related box, labeled or not, had been sorted into a pile in the center of the attic. However, finding the boxes was only half the work. To get it out of the attic, Luke was able to kick back and relax as Solomon used magic to transport them back to the living room. Once they were there, they were able to sort through them. Once they found the garland, tinsel, and ornaments, the fun was able to begin.

Luke decided they'd be putting up extra lights on the tree first. Working as a team, they wound the tree up with lights. The process was repeated with a couple strings of tinsel in different colors, because they couldn't find anything that matched. Since Luke wanted to save the tree topper for last, they then worked to put all the ornaments up. Spacing them out proved hard for Luke and Solomon, while Raphael and Simeon watched on in amusement. It felt like no matter where they tried to put them, there was always something else too close. When Simeon helped upon Luke's insistence, he was able to place them perfectly every time.

Finally, it came time to place the star on top. While magic could be used, Solomon insisted Luke do it. Solomon said it was hard to ignore the grin that appeared on his face every time the star was mentioned. After Raphael placed him on his shoulders, Simeon passed Luke the star. He gently placed it where it belonged.

"How'd I do?" Luke asked as he was placed back onto the ground, barely keeping his excitement from creeping into his voice.

"It looks great. You did a superb job!" Solomon gave him a thumbs up. Raphael nodded in agreement.

"Yay!" Luke did a little jump for joy.

"Do we want to take a short break before we get to decorating the rest of the common room?" Simeon took a seat on the sofa, looking more winded than it seemed like he wanted to admit.

"This is the perfect time to tell you about our plans for the rest of the day!" Luke jumped at the chance to let them in on what he was doing. He'd made it with the intention with doing it alone but, he knew they'd help no matter what. It would be easy for onlookers to tell just how much the elder housemates cared for the younger one. It was clearly one big, happy family.

"We're listening." Solomon took a seat. Simeon looked at Luke like a proud father might at his son during a big moment.

"Before I do, I'd like to thank you guys!" Without further explanation, he caught all three of them in a hug. Solomon and Raphael seemed stunned, but Simeon was quicker to reciprocate. "I love you guys." Luke muttered.

"We love you too, Luke." Simeon was laughing, but Luke knew he meant it.

He'd never thought coming to the Devildom would mean so much love. But, going was easily the best choice Luke had made. He would've never met Beelzebub, Barbatos, Mc, or Solomon, nor would his bond with Simeon or Raphael grown that much tighter. Christmas was a time to spread the love, and he intended to make sure each demon, angel, or human close to him knew, starting with the three most important to him.

"I know it's only December first, but Merry Christmas you guys!"

"Merry Christmas Luke."

#obey me #obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #omswd #obey me solomon #obey me! shall we date?#obey me luke #obey me simeon #obey me raphael #oneshot

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greenlantrns · 6 months ago

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You don’t actually have to share the ‘bad’ parts of your regression btw. It’s okay to create a space to appreciate the good parts of your regression without dishing out your trauma to strangers on the internet.

#idk I keep seeing posts like #’agere isn’t all sunshine and rainbows but people pretend it is’#which is half true but what exactly are you looking for?#should I post the next time I have a panic attack after I involuntarily regress?#should people tell you whenever they tried to regress to soothe themselves and it did the opposite?#ofc people should feel free to vent and talk about traumatic regression #but why do people feel so entitled to hearing those stories?#mora of the story: age regression is deeply personal and can be deeply traumatic #so maybe instead of asking people to bring their trauma into their safe spaces we respect each other’s boundaries 🥳#:P #sfw agere #age regression

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tinylittlebab · 2 years ago

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ill be skinny. it will happen. ive been trying for so long now. once it was just trying to eat less and be smaller but not much real focus on my physical appearance. now its all about that. 11 years of my ed and 7 years of wanting what i want now. i dont live with my parents anymore. i have more control. i will achieve it.

there was a time where id eat 300-700 consistently. ill get that back. i will.

#most of the years ive had an ed i had no access to a scale so it was very jard to track progress #maybe i did lie my ass off and fool ppl around me into thinking its actually healthier for me to have a scale bc ill restrict worse without #one which is half true. not that kts anyones right to make that choice at this point. at least not in 2 months when im 18 its not #part of the problem im having is i wanna be small but i have so little muscle that ill have to be very dangerously underweight to look even #close to how i want. many peoples ugws are under that line. mine was once. before i learned that its genuinely very very dangerous #and a lot of the people who look the way i wanna look are only just below that line which is where id like to be #they look that way bc they have more muscle. most ppl cant maintain a bmi of 14 or less for that long. eventually your body freaks out #ppl use instances like eugenia coonie as proof that you can actually do it but like. most peoples bodies wont hold out that long #and many of the ppl in thinspo pics eother only maintained it for a short bit before gaining or getting really sick or they weighed more #and had more muscle. and like. my goal isnt to be all bone. i dont wanna push it that far. bony people arent physically nice to hold anyway #i just wanna be light enough that somwone cpuld carry me and people might view me in a certain way #i wanna be seen as cute and fragile and shy and like. young and sweet. ots hard to explain exactly what i want peopel see see me like but i #want when people look at pictures or videos of me for them to think i look sweet and wanna be gantle and nice to me #and when i walk around places instead of seeing an awkward weirdo they see a timid cute girl whos really tiny and pretty #i know ill never be that but. maybe if i lose enough weight and dont have much acne and leave my hair down then maybe i can come close

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fioiswriting · 8 months ago

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Muña | one shot

Summary : Marrying your bastard nephew to mend fences between your families wasn't exactly what you had planned. But when you realise that Jace has grown into a strong and handsome man, you might be ready to rethink your plans.

Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x Aunt!Reader (Reader is Alicent and Visery’s daughter. She’s one year younger than Aegon)

TW : p in v sex, mommy kink, sub!Jace (kinda), Dom!Reader (but they both switch tbh), inappropriate use of the word muña, oral (f receiving), afab reader, incest, unprotected sex, not proofread

Words count : 8064

AN : hi everyone!! I’ve been very busy lately so I haven't had time to update BUT I’ve been working a bit on various fics. Sorry to all my Aemond girlies but today it’s time for some Jace x reader. It’s a fic I’ve written for my gf who’s turning into a Jace girlie 🤭 It's full of indecency and inappropriate things.

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

The gardens had become your refuge over the past few days. Under the shade of the trees, on the soft grass, you had found a peaceful haven away from the excitement caused by the arrival of your half-sister and her herd of bastards. The Red Keep made you feel suffocated. And seeing your mother pacing back and forth, running left and right, didn't help. You had to calm her down. You had to keep an eye on your older brother, making sure he didn't slip away into the maze of Flea Bottom for the umpteenth time. You had to hold your family together, and you were tired.

You almost envied Daeron, in Old Town, away from the hustle and bustle of the court.

At least no one would think of looking for you where you were now. And you could enjoy a moment's respite, poring over the thick book you had borrowed from Aemond's library. Had he known that you had entered his room without warning, had he known that you had dared to disturb the perfect tidiness of his precious bookshelves, he would probably have threatened to feed you to Vhagar. But what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. Besides, you could perhaps find a way to pay him back later.

For now, you just needed to be left alone.

You stretched out, arms reaching for the sky. The sun's rays crept through the leaves, their warmth leaving a pleasant sensation on your face. Summer was back and you were delighted. The gentle breeze that ruffled the corners of your book and occasionally lifted the silver curls around your face gave you a sense of freedom. You deftly kicked off your shoes and lay back for a moment, your eyes closed.

Footsteps echoed on the cobbled floor, and you sighed in annoyance. You didn't have to open your eyes to see who it was. You recognised his footsteps. So, you kept your eyes closed. With any luck, he would continue his way and leave you alone to find someone else to annoy.

"Hey, my favourite little sister," Aegon exclaimed as he landed heavily beside you, his body brushing against yours. You opened one eye to acknowledge him, then closed it again, your arms crossed behind your head. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?" he insisted when he saw you weren't answering him. "You know, make sure I don't run off or end up drunk somewhere…Stuff like that. Which our mother probably asked you to do."

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. It was true that Aegon was terribly annoying. But of all your siblings, Aegon was still your favourite.

You resigned yourself to rolling onto your stomach, your chin resting on your hands and your head tilted sideways to face him. "My dear brother," you replied sarcastically. "Unable to occupy yourself, as usual." He rolled his eyes before reaching out to remove a leaf that had gotten caught in your hair. He subtly ran his fingers through one of your curls, his touch as light as a feather. "And why have you decided to come and disturb my moment of peace, tell me?"

He blew the leaf away and you watched as it flew away on the breeze. Your big brother's eyes shone with mischief. "Why would I need a specific reason to spend time with my favourite sister?" he added, and it was your turn to roll your eyes. He moved to lie next to you, his body practically pressed against yours.

If you moved a few centimetres, your elbows would touch his.

You'd always been inseparable, and the habit had stuck over time, even when the teenage years had driven you apart. But in those moments, you were like two children again, ready to run away from Septa lessons to get into mischief in the castle.

“Because you always have a reason for everything,” you replied, and he looked at you with a fake hurt look that was greatly exaggerated. With Aegon it was easy. It had always been easy. He wasn't as serious as Aemond, he wasn't as strange as Helena, and he wasn't as far away as Daeron.

"I just wanted to make sure my little sister was all ready to meet her betrothed tonight." He paused. "And also, that she hadn't suddenly decided to become a pious woman and follow the path of the Seven." His voice lowered. You poked him in the ribs. "See? I'm a caring big brother. I care about you."

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied. He laughed. Then he rolled onto his back, arms crossed behind his head, one leg bent, and he closed his eyes. The golden rays caught in his long lashes made him look like an angel.

Everything he wasn't.

'Well?' He added. “Excited to see Jacaerys Strong?”

You sat cross-legged. The bracelets on your wrists clinkled. Aegon knew how much the idea horrified you. You had no desire to marry Jace, to sacrifice your freedom for your half-sister's bastard eldest son. You had no desire to leave the Red Keep, to follow him to Dragonstone and spend your life bearing him children. It was your mother and Rhaenyra's idea, of course.

The union of the eldest daughter of one and the eldest son of the other, as a way of repairing the rift that has grown between your families over time.

As if you were destined to mend fences, to undo the mistakes of your own parents.

It wasn't that you hated Jace. But he was your older sister's son, a bastard who had pretensions he shouldn't have precisely because he was a bastard. He was the model son, the perfect son, the prodigy son, the one who always did everything right. It irritated you. He irritated you with his brown curls and his awkward posture.

It wasn't fair that your father showered him with praise when he could barely remember your own name.

You stood up, smoothing the folds of your red dress to make yourself more presentable, and you caught your brother's eyes on your body, his eyes riveted on the thin fabric that revealed your delicate shapes. God, you loved to play with that. You knew how to get men wrapped around your finger with your sweet, innocent air, and Aegon was the first victim. You approached him and held out your arm to help him up, which he accepted by pulling himself to his feet heavily. After putting your shoes back on, you bent down to pick up the thick book in your arms. If you lost it, you could be sure that Aemond would be angry with you. And that was a risk you didn't want to take.

"Perhaps you're right, lēkia. I'd better go and make myself more presentable for my betrothed. I wouldn't wish to disgrace our family." And with that you turned back, your hair swirling in the air behind you as Aegon watched you go with a small smile on his face.

You knew how much Aegon hated being ignored, and even more so when it came from his little sister. You knew that he would return with his tail between his legs and a pleading look on his face. Between his constant whining and his dirty jokes, he gave you little respite, but it was a game that had developed between you; a game that, deep down, you enjoyed.

He was so predictable.

“If I had known you liked strong men, I would have dyed my hair,” you heard him shout from behind you. Aegon wasn't the least bit shy. You shook your head, your silver locks bouncing.

"Get lost, you moron," you replied without even turning around.

The meal in honour of your betrothal promised to be exciting.

***

As soon as he saw you, your nephew rose to pull the chair beside him in a gallant gesture, and you found yourself watching him. Really watching him. His long, broad fingers on the back of the chair. His dark locks falling around his face. His precise features; his straight nose and deep eyes and square jaw. You hadn't realised how much your nephew had changed. He'd grown up too, and he was now a good head taller than you.

He had become a strong man, indeed.

But you refused to admit that Jacaerys Strong had become quite pleasant to look at.

"Princess," he said, pushing the chair back for you to sit down. Fingers brushed the skin of your partly bare shoulders. The touch had lasted a fraction of a second, enough to make you wonder if it had been a figment of your imagination.

"Lord Strong," you replied in greeting. If the words hurt him, Jace didn't show it. Always the perfect son. What would it take to push him over the edge? To crack the shell he'd built around himself? To shatter the image of the gentleman?

To your right, Aegon was already seated. He was holding a glass of wine between his fingers while Aemond seemed to be lecturing him about something you couldn't understand. The exchange between you and Jace had obviously not escaped his notice, and the corner of his mouth had already curled into a smirk. You knew what it meant.

His silence was full of implications, louder than any words.

Your mother had lectured him before dinner, warned him to behave because that was what was expected of him, and she was counting on you to make him obey.

But your older brother didn't say anything. He simply raised his glass in your direction, his lips forming a word that you couldn't read. You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed.

You looked at your nephew. He had donned a gambison in the colours of the Velaryons, and you couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation.

After all, a bastard in blue was still a bastard.

"Enjoying King's Landing?" you asked your betrothed, in an attempt to start a conversation. His attention turned to you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“It's quite different from what I remember,” he replied, his voice a little lower than usual, his warm eyes meeting yours. “But of course it all depends on the company you are with."

You hesitated, suddenly unsure.

You hated what the sound of his voice did to you. You hated the way his eyes suddenly made you feel vulnerable.

Fuck.

“It all depends on the company, indeed. And do you find yourself in good company tonight, nephew?" You gave him a defiant look, as if to judge his reaction.

As if to unveil what he held within himself.

“I'm not quite sure. Should I?” He paused, one eyebrow raised. He had taken the bait. “What would yousay?”

His eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite put your finger on. It wasn't the malice you usually found in Aegon's eyes when he wanted to tease you. It wasn't the gleam that animated his mind when he came up with a new plan for you to cover.

"I would say I'm in pretty strong company," you replied as you took your cup, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of your lips that you hid behind the glass.

You were cruel, giving him no respite, you knew. But you admired his composure. He hadn't cracked yet.

You knew men who were less patient.

Jace leaned towards you. A slight tilt of the head, just to make sure you were the only one to hear him. As if he wanted to share a secret with you. “Careful, Aunt,” he began, his voice suddenly quieter than before. It was almost a whisper. “I might begin to think you enjoy my company.”

You know I don't, you wanted to reply, but Jace had already straightened up as if nothing had happened, his head turned away from you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Baela give him a questioning look, and an unfamiliar sensation stirred in the pit of your stomach.

An unpleasant heat.

A hint of irritation.

You were annoyed, and you didn't know why.

“Look how handsome your betrothed has made himself for you,” Aegon sneered as he reached for the decanter and leaned in close to your ear. “A true Velaryon, isn't he?” He huffed.

You wanted to slap him on the thigh, make him swallow his mockery.

“If you think he's so handsome, I can happily leave him to you,” you replied, and Aegon's eyes widened. You saw him take a sip of wine, and something deep inside you told you he probably wasn't opposed to the idea. His usual mischievous smile was hidden behind the wine glass, but there was no mistaking his eyes.

Aegon had that tendency to give himself away, and you could read him like an open book.

The meal proved to be as boring as you had imagined. Small talk exchanged over fake smiles. An illusory moment in which everything seemed to be going well for one evening.

You weren't fooled, and you knew it was all a facade. You knew your family well enough to understand that the slightest spark could set things alight. You knew your brothers well enough to realise that all it would take was a simple glance between them to liven up an evening they found dull.

You just hoped they wouldn't cause too much trouble tonight.

To your left, Jace was still deep in conversation with Baela. They had that kind of complicity that made your blood boil inside; a shared laugh that sounded in your ear like the squeaky music you hated. You frowned. It was you, his betrothed. It was you, not Baela, and you didn't understand why that statement was suddenly so important.

After all, you despised this union. You hated Jace. You had no desire to promise him the rest of your life.

Jace was a bastard, and you deserved better.

So why did the sight of him touching Baela's hand cause a twinge of jealousy in your body?

His fingers brushed over hers absently. A light touch on her knuckles.

And all you felt was fire.

And then. Then, your fingers slipped under the wooden table.

You knew you were playing with fire. And you knew that if anyone paid too much attention to what you were doing, they would see that you weren't exactly behaving like the perfect Princess Targaryen you were supposed to be.

But you didn't care.

You let your fingers wander, running along the outside of Jace's thigh before moving up to settle in the hollow that connected his thigh to his hip. With a faint touch, your fingertips brushed the inside of his thigh, and then lower, tracing small circles through the fabric that was already beginning to tighten.

Jace almost choked.

He spat out the contents of his glass, his dark gaze fixed on you. Everyone had fallen silent, their heads turned towards him. Rhaenyra's eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

And you hadn't removed your hand.

An innocent smile lit up your face, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You wondered if Aegon could read you. If he could see that look on your face, so similar to his own. That distinctive feature you shared.

Deciding to play with your prey a little longer, you put on your best fake concerned face, pretending to be worried about his health.

"Are you all right, Jacaerys?" you asked, your voice a little higher than usual as your nails dug into the fabric of his breeches. Not to hurt him, of course. Just enough to wake a certain part of him, just enough to remind him that you were his betrothed.

He cleared his throat and coughed again.

“I swallowed wrong,” he replied.

Your fingers crept a little higher, trying to explore his upper thigh, where you knew your nephew would be sensitive. You didn't want to be rational tonight, you wanted to let the fire take over and consume you.

You wanted to let the sleeping dragon within you awaken.

The taste of the forbidden was divine, and the heat spreading through your lower belly was too delicious to stop now.

"Be careful, mandianna. We're not married yet." you said. We're not married yet and look where I've got my fingers. You kept your thoughts to yourself. "I wouldn't want to find myself a widow already," you replied in High Valyrian, amused, and Jace looked at you with his big brown eyes, somewhere between anger and excitement, embarrassment and curiosity.

Under the table, out of sight, your hand brushed the stretched fabric where you could read the confirmation of what he was feeling, the manifestation of his desire.

He was hard.

Perfect.

It was you who provoked this.

He responded to your touch.

You felt a familiar breath on the back of your neck and realised Aegon was leaning against you again. He was pretending to serve you some of the vegetables that had just been brought in for the starter, taking the opportunity to whisper in your ear as he did so well. "Try to be more discreet, little sister," he chuckled softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper to make sure no one heard you. Discreetly, he nodded to where your hand still rested on your nephew's thigh. He tilted his head. "Rhaenyra is right in front of us. Do you think she can see what you're doing to her son under the table?"

He put on his best disinterested face. As if the words exchanged between you were nothing more than banalities.

As if he weren't commenting on the indecent deeds you were doing under the table, unworthy of a girl of your rank.

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied, trying to keep a straight face. You didn't want him drawing any more of your family's attention to you, especially when you hadn't finished playing.

Your big brother gave you a knowing wink, as if to promise you that your secret was safe with him.

And you decided to continue entertaining yourself with the new game you'd invented.

You were bold, and you decided that if Jace didn't already know it, he would find out soon enough.

***

It wasn't that Jace was disappointed with his betrothal. You were divine, and the dress you wore made you so regal that he couldn't keep his attention anywhere but on your body, on your cleavage so gracefully offered to his gaze.

It was precisely why he had turned to Baela, why he had tried to distract himself with their conversation, why he had desperately tried to find something else to hold on to.

Because you were making him lose his footing. And that was a feeling he hated.

No, Jace did not regret his betrothal. You were everything a man could want; you were beautiful, you were regal, you were clever, and above all, you were a Targaryen. A princess. The king's daughter.

The only problem was you were distant and elusive.

Jace remembered your pretensions and mockeries from his childhood. He remembered the little brat you were, following in your older brother's footsteps. He remembered a little girl with a strong temper, who knew what she wanted. He remembered the pranks, not just the ones he'd taken part in, like the Pink Dread, but the ones that had turned against him because of you and Aegon, too.

It was clear that the little girl you had once been, taller than him, with long silver curls and an air of self-assurance far too confident for her young age, had grown into a beautiful young woman.

And that was something Jace hadn't considered.

He couldn't concentrate on his conversation with Baela, not when your fingers were digging through the linen of his breeches into the flesh of his thigh, as if to remind him to whom he had been promised.

Your fingers, slender, light, burning against his inner thigh.

He clenched his jaw.

All around him, the words and faces of the guests mingled in a swirl of sound and colour. Fuck.

Fuck.

His breeches were really becoming too tight.

You'd dared to do that. You'd dared to slip your fingers under the table, in front of everyone, and Jace didn't know whether to admire your audacity or wrap his fingers around your wrist and force you to take them off.

Suddenly he felt hot, a familiar warmth spreading between his loins.

He wasn't sure he could get up, not with his member pulsing between his thighs.

Fuck. You weren't supposed to make him feel like this. He wasn't supposed to feel such a desire for you when you weren't officially married.

This dinner was about officially declaring your betrothal, not consummating a union not yet pronounced.

He was trying to calm down. He tried to ground himself back into reality. Perhaps by staring intently at the contents of his plate he could ignore the sensation of your fingers rising dangerously high; the desperate need to finally have your fingers wrapped around his manhood.

His knees slammed into the table in a sudden movement.

Your fingers had just brushed the bulge that had formed between his thighs.

And he needed more, infinitely more.

You couldn't have the cruelty to arouse such lust in him and then leave him like that. He would never forgive you.

"Stop that," he growled in your direction, low enough for no one else to hear.

But you still had that damn innocent smile, that damn audacity to act as if nothing had happened.

"I don't know what you're talking about, mandianna." Nephew. The sound of the High Valyrian rolling off your tongue sent a wave of heat between his legs. Seven hells, you were going to be the death of him.

He wanted more.

He needed more.

More of your fingers around him, more of your tongue against his length, more of that innocent look on your face as you knelt before him, more of your tight cunt.

Jace was on the verge of losing it. You'd made him a slave to his own desire. You had closed your claws around him and he knew there was no turning back now.

“If you play with fire too much, you might get burned, muña," Jace retorted, leaning towards you, and he felt the imperceptible movement of your hand twitching at the threat. Aunt.

Despite his dwindling strength, King Viserys tried to make a speech about family, betrothal, and a whole host of other undoubtedly honourable values, but neither you nor Jace paid any attention. You were caught up in your own game.

Then Jace stood up, forcing you to remove your hand.

You could see he was uncomfortable, for you knew where to look, for you knew what you had done.

You knew he had a painful erection between his thighs, and it was all because of you.

But you could only admire your nephew's composure.

“To my uncles, Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. I have fond memories of our shared childhood.” His glass between his fingers, he raised it in the direction of his uncles, then turned to you. "And to my sweet and beautiful bride-to-be, who I'm sure will never cease to surprise me with her daring and surprising side. May our marriage be filled with joy and satisfaction".

The toasts continued, as did the meal. The servants had brought the rest of the dishes consisting of steaming meat and tasty garnishes. It was almost too joyous, almost too happy to be real. As if there was a threat lurking somewhere in the corner.

But Jace still had to teach you a lesson.

The music started, the sound of instruments filling the room. Jace apologised to Baela and walked over to his aunt. His other aunt. Your sister.

And you felt the anger return; the same inner turmoil as before.

Jace had held out his hand to Helaena and led her to dance a little further away. You immediately exchanged a questioning look with your brother, who had also stared at Jace in disbelief as he had walked away on your little sister's arm.

"So?" Aegon began. "It seems your betrothed didn't appreciate your little game?" You glared at him, but he just scoffed. "If he changes his mind... You know I like it."

You wondered if you could do the same. You wondered if you could ask Aegon to dance and if Jace would feel the same bubbling inside him, the same jealousy coursing through his veins.

You hated that feeling.

You shouldn't feel that kind of emotion, especially not for him.

You obviously didn't see it, too focused on your own annoyance, but Jace kept glancing in your direction, as if to make sure you saw him.

He wanted to make you jealous. He wanted to fuel the feeling he'd identified in you. He wanted to catch you at your own game. And one thing was certain, Jace hadn't played all his cards yet.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

After a moment that seemed an eternity, your betrothed returned to sit beside you, Helena going back to her own seat. You were less and less able to hide your annoyance, and no doubt Jace noticed, for he leaned towards you, a satisfied look on his face. "Your sister is very sweet," he murmured. He knew very well that this simple phrase would be enough to send you over the edge.

You liked attention. You liked compliments. You liked to be praised.

You said nothing back. But Aegon had his trademark grin, the one that stretched his lips when he had a devious plan, and he was already getting up on the pretext of serving Baela some wine so he could whisper in his nephew's ear. "I know my little sister can be particularly demanding.” He paused. “And difficult to tame. So if you ever need any advice... Or demonstrations…"

Jace was fuming, but he knew he had to keep his cool. It was Aegon, typical Aegon, to push his buttons, to succeed in making him suddenly unsure of himself, to make his mind confused. His fingers closed around his cup, his jaw clenched, and it took all his self-control not to throw the contents in his uncle's face.

He didn't even look at Aegon, who had returned to his seat with a triumphant smile.

But you felt something under the table. Something slipped between the folds of your dress, along your skin, discreetly, lightly, a delicious touch against your skin that made you want more.

Your eyes widened.

Jace.

Jace the perfect son. Jace the model son.

Jace slipping his fingers under your dress, touching the skin of your thigh, rising dangerously high where you could already feel the wetness forming in the crease between your thighs.

This was the moment he snapped, you knew it. You hadn't heard your brother's words, you had only seen him lean towards your betrothed, but you knew he must have struck a chord with Jacaerys Velaryon. That he had probably touched his weak spot.

Or perhaps you were just getting your comeuppance. After teasing him, after making him hard and desperate.

Jace moved his hand, tracing the space where your skin was soft and tender, all the way up your thigh, with a slow, gentle touch. His hand moved further towards the centre of you, where you were sensitive, and he brushed against your crotch. He didn't even need to apply any pressure with his fingertips to tell that you were wet.

Your hips automatically moved towards his hand in search of more contact, causing you to wiggle in your chair. All you wanted to do was grab his wrist, force him to slide his fingers under the fabric separating you, force him to touch you right here. But you were still at dinner and the game was becoming far too dangerous.

"I told you to be careful," Jace whispered as he withdrew his fingers and resumed his serious gaze, his fingers fidgeting on the wood of the table. “Two can play at this game.”

And then perhaps the Seven heard you. Perhaps they were offering you a way out. To be honest, you weren't sure if it was a miracle or a curse. For Aemond had risen, and he had done what he did best; he had made a mocking and provocative speech to his nephews.

Everything happened quickly. Jace and Luke leapt to their feet to answer the provocation, Aemond and Aegon were ready to fight back, and even Baela and Rhaena were prepared to defend their family. You had no time to move, no time to react, for dinner was already over, and so was your little game of cat and mouse with Jace.

This was your way out, you knew it. You were tired of sitting around a table listening to boring speeches. And the entertainment that had consisted of sliding your fingers under the table to push Jacaerys Strong over the edge had now turned against you.

"I shall rest," you warned your mother, who was deep in conversation with Rhaenyra, her features wrinkled with worry. "Tonight's events have left me somewhat tired. And I think a night's rest would do me a world of good." She nodded, stroking your hair, and you knew instinctively what she was thinking. Always the perfect daughter.

And as you passed through the heavy door of the dining room, you hurried off in a direction that was not that of your room.

Oh, but if she knew.

***

Thankfully, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the slightest desire to run into a guard who would ask you where you were going or escort you to your room for security reasons.

Your steps were as discreet as possible on the stone floor, like those of a small mouse. You moved quickly, stealthily, almost on tiptoe.

Only the crackle of the fire broke the heavy silence between the cold walls, where the dancing shadows of the flames distorted.

You slowed your pace. You had a doubt. You weren't sure which door was the one you were looking for.

And then suddenly, as you reached the end of the corridor, you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you against the wall, away from prying eyes. A strong grip, as if it didn't want to let you vanish again.

Jace was holding you between the wall and his own body. Despite the darkness, you could see his eyes shining in the candlelight, fueled by a devouring hunger you didn't know he possessed. He stared at you for a moment. His eyes in yours. A tension hung between you, burning, ready to consume you both, and you were completely willing.

Gently yet firmly he turned your body. Your chest against the cold wall, your back against his warm chest, and you pulled your hips back to provoke him. You wouldn't succumb so easily, not to Jacaerys.

He pressed himself against you, moving his pelvis forward so you could feel his hard member against the top of your buttocks.

"Do you feel what you're doing to me?" Another thrust of his hips. "Can you feel the effect you're having on me?" He pressed harder against you. Through the layers of fabric between you, you could almost feel him throb. Gods, he seemed big. "Teasing me all evening... Such a tease, aren't you?"

If it wasn't the consequence of your own actions.

You stifled a moan with your arm so as not to attract any patrolling guards. What you were doing was dangerous. At any moment you could be caught. At any moment you could be in big trouble.

But you couldn't stop now. Not when the best was yet to come.

You moved again, seeking more contact, seeking to make Jace harder and more painful than he already was, and you turned your head to challenge him. "What if it's you who's just too weak?"

You felt his hoarse breath against the back of your neck, at the base of your hair. He seemed to be hesitating, thinking. About what he was going to do to you, about what he was going to do to make sure you were responsible for your actions. Again he turned you so that you had your back to the wall, facing him, and you recognised the gleam of desire in his eyes.

Towering over you, he lowered his gaze to you, your faces inches apart. For a moment he let his eyes devour you, wandering from your eyes to your lips, from your lips to your breasts, visible through the fabric of your dress. He wanted to keep this image printed behind his eyelids; your half-open lips, your pleading gaze, like that of a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

You looked ravishing.

"Tell me to stop," Jace murmured. And you knew it was the sensible thing to do, you knew it was better to stop everything now, while it was still possible to turn back. For you weren't married yet.

But you had no desire to be responsible.

His fingers curled around a lock of your hair and tucked it behind your ear, waiting for your answer before continuing.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" you replied, your eyes locked with his. He felt your hand against his cheek as you detailed his face, tracing his well-sculpted cheeks, and he longed for more contact, his face seeking the warmth of your palm.

You put your arms around his neck to draw him closer, to close the distance between your lips, to feel his warmth against your body.

To quench this desire, this need that was becoming uncontrollable.

And your lips met in a feverish, urgent kiss. He pressed you further against the wall, his fingers running down your sides, brushing against the breasts he so craved.

He found your hips and his fingers worked frantically up the bottom of your dress in a crumpled ball of fabric to reach your core. "Look at how wet you are." His fingers brushed your folds through your undergarments. "All of this just for teasing me." He pressed one hand against the wall, still leaning against you, but not giving you what you wanted: his hand had stopped, and you tried to wiggle your hips to force him to continue, to force him to give you what you wanted.

Deep down, you loved the way he was losing control.

You loved that side of Jace you didn't know.

So you grabbed his wrist, guiding his fingers under the last barrier that separated his skin from yours.

The sensation was delicious.

The touch of his warm fingers against your folds sent a wave of heat from your lower belly through your entire body. You didn't want him to stop. "Here." You breathed against his lips. "This is where muña needs you." Aunt. He tensed beneath you, and you wondered if it was the ambiguity of the family tie, uttered in High Valyrian, that had such an effect on him.

You let your lips brush against his.

He collected your wetness on his fingers, exploring the slit between your folds up to your little pearl. You were soaking wet. And you desperately needed him inside you.

His fingers slid down to your opening where he applied a little pressure with the tip of his index finger without ever penetrating you.

"I know," he murmured, drawing small circles before abandoning your opening to return to your bud. "But I can't give you what you want now."

You whimpered under his cruelty, against his lips.

You could see through his game.

He wanted to make you beg, but you weren't the kind to beg. You were the one with the power and you were going to show him.

"We shouldn't stay here," you muttered, rubbing yourself against your nephew's hand. "If someone catches us..."

Jace nodded his head in agreement, withdrawing his fingers glistening with your juice, which you guided to his own lips, spreading the stickiness against his lips.

"If you're a good boy, I'll let you taste me."

And with that, he pulled you into his room.

***

Lying on the bed where you'd pushed him, Jace watched as you removed your dress, his prominent erection stretching the fabric of his breeches. The dress fell to the floor, forming a red puddle that you stepped over, one foot after the other.

Your nephew couldn't look away from your hypnotic figure, but his eyes inevitably wandered back to your breasts. You'd seen him glancing at your cleavage all evening, you could tell he wanted to run his fingers over your soft flesh, his lips over your nipples, and now that you were completely naked in front of him, you could see the unmistakable desire in his eyes.

You walked up to him. He clenched his jaw when he saw you. You, and the perfection of your shape, your little pointed nipples, the tantalising path that led from your chest to the space between your thighs where he knew you were soaked for him.

The flat of your hand pressed against his chest, forcing him to lie down between the pillows. He complied, never breaking the eye contact between the two of you, and you took your place on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. His husky breath escaped through his parted lips, lightly caressing your face.

You were naked, he was still dressed, and you had infinite power over him.

You lowered your hips against his covered crotch, the essence of your desire staining the linen of his breeches as your hips began to move slowly.

You leaned down and traced his jaw with the tip of your lips, planting kisses along his throat. Underneath you, his member twitched. Mimicking what he'd done earlier, you let your fingers rest on the painful bulge between his legs and whispered, "I know." You applied a little more pressure, drawing a moan from between his lips. "I know it's painful. But I can't give you what you want right now."

Jace growled. He wanted to turn you over, slam you against the mattress, pound into you and make you swallow your insolence. But he wanted to see how far you were willing to go. He wanted to see you keep control for a while longer.

You deftly undid his breeches to make it easier for your hand to slip through. You found his hard member, warm and heavy between your fingers.

It was a new sensation. As a model princess, you'd never ventured into this territory, saving your maidenhood for your future husband.

But Jace was your future husband.

You closed your fingers around him, your thumb collecting the sticky beads that had already formed at the tip of his cock and spreading it along his length.

"First I want to come on your tongue," your lips articulated against the skin of his throat as the hand that was in his breeches moved up his torso to close around his jaw, your thumb caressing his lower lip to emphasise your words. "Will you let me?" you added. In response, he let the tip of his tongue slip between his lips, touching the pad of your finger. "Let me show you," he whispered.

And indeed, Jace worked devotedly between your thighs, his tongue tracing the length of your slit, drinking in your essence as it flowed from your entrance like a delicious nectar. His tongue tickled your little knob, his thumbs spreading your folds to gain access to the treasure he coveted.

One of his fingers found your hole clenching around nothing, tracing small circles against it to force you to voice what you wanted. "Do you need me here?" he whispered against your flesh, the vibration of his deep voice sending shivers through your core. Your hands buried themselves in the dark mass of his hair and you moved your hips against his face, urging him to maintain the contact of his mouth against you. "Use your words, muña," he added, despite his nose being buried between your folds.

When you gave him the answer he was waiting for, he let a finger enter you in a delicious stretch. You held back a moan, your fingers digging deeper into his hair, not caring if you were hurting him or not. He continued to explore your cunt with his tongue, like a thirsty man, like a devoted man.

You wouldn't last long, your release close.

Jace then added a second finger. The sensation of his fingers inside you, against that rough spot, combined with that of his tongue between your folds, against your pearl, was simply divine.

"Go on," Jace started, but you immediately cut him off. "Shut up." You didn't want him to speak. You wanted him to continue with his damn tongue, with his broad fingers inside you. You didn't want him to stop. "I am... I am close."

And your climax washed over your entire body like a wave of warmth. Your legs closed around your nephew's face.

It was probably one of the best sensations you'd ever experienced.

Still between your legs, his fingers gripping your thighs, Jace collected your arousal on his tongue, sending shivers of overstimulation down your spine, and your whole body shuddering in a brutal spasm. You straightened up, knees still bent, your hand returning to your nephew's hair to guide him over you, his face close to yours. You stroked his cheek gently, as if to let him know he was a good boy, and your thumb picked up the sticky fluid that was smeared all over the bottom of his face.

You were both out of breath. You from the intense release you'd felt, he from the dedication he'd shown.

A smirk formed at the corner of your lips, and you pressed your thumb between his lips to ensure he didn't waste anything. Jace tilted his face close to yours. "You taste divine," he breathed, turning your cheeks red. "But now I need to be inside you."

His fingers slipped between your thighs, where your centre was pulsing, still far too sensitive from the ministrations he had given you.

"You can give me another, can't you?" He asked, and you nodded, so sore.

After he undressed, Jace pushed on your shoulders to make you lie down, but you skilfully changed positions, taking him by surprise.

You were unwilling to give him the power he wanted, not yet.

Straddling him, you moved your hips to rub your crotch against his erect manhood, spreading your wetness along his length. Beneath you, his torso rose and fell rapidly, and the grunts he let out conveyed his need for more. So your hand sought his hard member, guiding it to your entrance without letting it penetrate you. "So?" you asked playfully. "Do you think you've been a good boy ? Do you think you deserve to be inside me?" You wanted to make him beg, and Jace could see right through you. "To be the first?" you added, lowering your voice slightly, as if you were telling him a secret.

But he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer.

So he capitulated, giving you the defeat you'd been waiting for.

"Yes." he breathed. "Please." Your victorious smile stretched your lips and you guided him further against you, pressing his erection against your opening. Fuck. He was massive.

He was about to breathe a sigh of relief, ready to feel your velvet walls tighten around him, but you blocked his hip movement.

It wasn't enough.

"Please who?" you asked, your fingers moving back and forth around his manhood. He glared at you. You were gloating. "Please, muña," he finally begged, and you gave him what he wanted.

You lowered your hips to let him slide into you in a long thrust that stretched you around him. He was indeedmassive, and the new sensation of having him inside you was a delicious mix of dull pain and burning pleasure. You stood still for a moment to adjust to his presence inside you, your core throbbing around him. The initial pinch gradually dissipated, replaced by a pleasant sensation that sent a wave of warmth through your body.

And then he began to thrust in and out, pushing up to sink into you. "Fuck...fuck, you're tight," Jace growled. Your loose hair cascaded down either side of your face, tickling his cheeks, and he caught it in a messy bun to hold it behind your head.

You could feel the same pleasure as before building up in your lower abdomen.

Gods, you could feel him so intensely. So deeply too. Bouncing rhythmically against that particular part of you.

You buried your head in his neck, his woody scent filling your nostrils.

It was primal. Animal, between the two of you. All that mattered was the here and now. Your body against his, the sweat beading between you, the moans filling the room.

Jace tugged at your hair, causing you to throw your head back, freeing access to your chest, and he straightened up into a sitting position, his member still deep inside you, to find your breast. He buried his face in it and your hand instinctively found the back of his head to stroke his hair. Jace's lips traced a trail of kisses down the valley between your breasts, following the curve of your flesh before closing around your nipple, which he sucked gently. One of his arms wrapped around you to hold you tight against him, his other hand resting on the breast he wasn't devouring.

You stayed like that for a while, your legs on either side of him, his mouth seeking solace in your breasts, the divine sensation of being full, with him inside you, in the softness of the night, the flames rocking your lovemaking.

One of Jace's arms finally found your back and in one swift movement he reversed position. He desperately needed more, sensing that he wouldn't last long.

He pinned you beneath him, against the mattress, your legs immediately closing around him and the pace quickened. His thrusts became more messy, more sloppy because of your two combined essences. "You're mine, now" he grunted, and you shivered. His index and middle fingers wandered between your folds, caressing the spot where you were joined before moving to the pearl hidden at the top of your slit. "Am I?" you replied teasingly. You could feel him throbbing inside you. "Then be a good boy now and give muña your seed."

That was the spark that ignited the fire. Jace quickened the rhythm of his hips, his fingers still buried between your folds, his movements erratic. With each of his thrusts, you felt his member hitting that sensitive spot against your spongy inner walls. You tensed and for the second time that evening, your release flooded your entire body. You were followed by your nephew as Jace spilled into you, his seed painting white ropes against your womb.

He lay still inside you for a moment, his cock softening as you both caught your breath, your hands in his dark curls, his head at the nape of your neck.

You winced as he withdrew from your still sensitive core, his now cold seed flowing between your thighs. Jace dropped down beside you, satisfied. Then you turned to him. You grabbed his wrist one last time and guided his fingers to your centre, where your folds were smeared with the remnants of your lovemaking.

"Look how much you've left inside me," you whispered into his ear, making Jace collect his own seed on his fingertips and push it back into you. "I'm going to keep it all inside me, would you like that, sweet boy?" you whispered again.

And Jace pulled you against him to kiss you, his member stirring between his thighs, against you. It was true that he'd given you the upper hand this time. But he was ready to show you what he could do. You snuggled up against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

"Perhaps…We should bring the wedding date forward."

And he smiled.

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace x reader #jace velaryon #hotd x reader #jacaerys smut #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys x fem!reader #jacaerys velaryon fanfic

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sttoru · 7 months ago

Text

[ 𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐒 ]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. the king of curses cannot fight off his primal urges and thus you suffer the consequences.

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut, angst (w/ comfort), p.orn with mostly plot. mäting press. choking. rough like.. condescendingly rough. objectification. toxic relationship? yes. small hint of creampiē. double cawks. reader gets called ‘slut, girl, woman’ wc: 3.9k

“look at that slutty cunt takin’ my cock. think i wanna try fitting both at once in that lil’ hole. keh,” sukuna grunts as he looks down at you from above. your legs are burning from being folded in half—matter of fact—your entire body is aching.

any normal person would call out their safeword in a situation like this. you’re overwhelmed to the point that your brain doesn’t know what to do. you’re experiencing euphoria, yet feel like your doom is right around the corner.

you’re playing with fire whenever you’re intimate with the king of curses.

it’s too addictive to stop. being his favorite concubine has given you enough motivation to push through any difficulties. any discomfort your body feels, is automatically discarded and replaced with drowning pleasure. it’s like sukuna has put a spell on you; one that’s unbreakable.

“fffnghh—my lord,” you gasp for air as one of his big hands wrap tightly around your throat. your airway is blocked, nearly crushed by sukuna’s immense force. you get a flashback to the last time he’s choked you, how sukuna nearly lost control of his own strength.

your eyes are watery as your insides follow each thrust. back and forth, in and out. it is a simple rhythm, but you cannot get enough. the harsh and sticky echoes of skin slapping against skin are nearly ear deafening. his heavy balls bounce against the plush flesh of your ass with every move, ready to unload everything they’ve stored.

“shut up,” sukuna spits, looking down at you like you’re but a mere insect. perhaps you were exactly that to him in the heat of the moment. his red eyes show that he’s losing himself. that cruel yet greedy look only intensifies with the second, “you only speak when y’re spoken to—or did y’ forget your damn place?”

you swallow your words and resort to simple moaning after you apologise, “i’m sorry, m’lord.” your blurry vision creates a trippy illusion, giving sukuna eight arms and eyes. not only are you seeing double, the feeling of ecstasy is twice as strong. you feel like you’re being ripped apart from the inside.

you can’t speak about it. you’re not allowed to open your mouth unless it’s to moan or breathe. perhaps even the latter is too much to ask. your fingers shake as they wrap around sukuna’s wrist. you try to tug at the hand that is wrapped around your throat, but your strength is gone.

your body is shaking violently with each thrust. you can’t keep up with anything that’s happening. you’re unable to process the feeling of sukuna’s second cock trying to prod its way into your cunt as well. you’re going to break — he’s going to break you.

you want to speak up and tell him you can’t take both in the same hole at once. it’s an impossible task; one can’t even fit that easily. he’s girthy and got an immense length, an inhuman one you’ve never seen before. you swear you can feel him in your tummy. the tip feeling like it's nestled right underneath your belly button.

sukuna scoffs as you tighten up around his lower cock. you’re weak; a weak human who he can’t seem to get out of his mind. he wants to exploit that obedience of yours today—to ruin you mentally and physically.

he can’t ignore those urges to ruin that what causes him weakness. he wishes to regain the power over himself again. that can only be done by consuming you, removing you from existence.

“i can’t fuckin’ stand you,” sukuna growls, his eyes darkening beyond imagination, “y’re always in the way.” you’re scared of the king of curses, which rarely happens. the last time you were afraid of his monstrous aura was during your first encounter in the woods. his manly hand squeezes your throat until you’re genuinely struggling to breathe.

there’s an unmistakable sense of danger boiling in your guts. this is the real nature of the curse named ryomen sukuna. the man above you, who’s drilling his cock into you while you’re suffering, is the real deal.

the true face of the man you thought you knew.

“i’m gonna get rid of you, y’hear? after this, y’re nothing,” sukuna pants, sweat droplets falling onto your cheeks from above. he looks like he’s internally fighting with himself. the expression on his face tells you enough. you want to reach a hand out towards his cheek and hold it.

he looks beautiful, even when he spews such serious threats at you. your cunt is burning and holding tightly onto his cock, even when you realise it may break you.

you’ve stayed for so long with him, even when you know you’ll one day die at his side or by his hands.

locks of his pink hair stick to his forehead. sweat rolls down those black tattoos. all four red eyes are burning with a carnal desire to claim you as his property—to destroy you like his property. as is his right. that’s the only way to satiate that overwhelming feeling inside of sukuna.

whenever you’re around him, he finds himself drawn by your presence. he wants you to stay by his side all day, and if you aren’t, it’s like gravity is pulling him towards you. sukuna despises it—he craves to possess you, yet also get rid of your entire being. that way he can return to his normal self. the monster he's known as.

“i’ll throw ya away—gonna get a new toy to spend more time with,” the king of curses digs his nails into the back of your knees. the tip of his upper cock glides back and forth over your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves until it’s burning. you’re losing yourself in both pleasure and pain.

the hurtful words don’t seem to affect you. you still look up at him like he’s your everything—like he’s the reason you exist. sukuna turns furious the moment he notices that his threats don’t seem to work. you’re impossible and he hates that which he cannot control.

he cuts off any air that may enter your lungs. your eyes widen and your fingers tug at his wrist so he’d let loose, but alas. you’re going to lose consciousness without a doubt. tears stream down your cheeks, though not because of the hopelessness you’re feeling.

“i do not need you anymore,” sukuna says gruffly, trying to convince himself of that statement as well. he never needed anyone else during his entire lifetime, so why would he need you? he can replace you with any another woman.

your body goes limp. sukuna’s voice is muffled as you enter a state of half consciousness. you’re at the bridge between life and death. your eyes catch a glimpse of the faint struggle in his eyes.

he looks like a monster through and through, visibly acting like one too. though you’re able to catch a glimpse of an underlying vulnerability. that part of him that always shows itself when you two are alone—making you feel special because you’re the only one allowed to witness it.

you crack a faint, weak smile. even if you perish right then and there, it’s going to be at the hands of the man you’ve learnt to love. the sorcerer who’s made you feel on top of the world, without him realising it. you’ll forever be thankful for the moments you’ve spent together.

you’ll never forget the times where sukuna has made you feel safe in those same arms that will now be your death.

a tear slides down your temple. you look sukuna in the eyes while you’re seconds away from meeting your end. you show no signs of struggle as he gives you your final command;

“die.”

you close your eyes. your fingers loosen their grip around sukuna’s wrist before you let your hand fall at your side. you’ve accepted your fate with a weary smile, honored to have sukuna be the last thing you see, “understood, my lord.”

you’ve lost feeling in all limbs and your eyelids droop. all you can do is await for death to come collect your soul. it’s dark and you can’t hear a thing anymore. you’re confused when the burning sensation in your lungs returns.

your eyes fly open the moment some oxygen is able to reach your airway again. the harsh fingers around your neck have disappeared, though not without leaving aching marks. you clutch your chest as it hurts to breathe after not being able to for the longest time.

you gasp and cough uncontrollably. you wince and blink the tears away from your eyes, refocusing your vision on the large stature detaching from your side. you’re bewildered to say the least—not realising the reason behind sukuna’s sudden change of heart. he’s sworn to get rid of you, didn’t he?

he told you to die and yet he let you live.

“fuck,” the king of curses groans after he snapped out of the dangerous state he was in. he’s panting snd staring at the hand that was once wrapped around your throat. he’s not looking at you at all.

you feel him pull out which makes you hiss. you sit up, the adrenaline helping your tired body move itself. sukuna is silent, with no emotions apparent on his face. however one thing you can conclude for sure is that he’s caught off guard by his own actions.

he can’t get it out of his head. the vision of you laying beneath him, accepting your doom as told. even on the brink of death, you oblige. you accept his every word. why? sukuna’s head is filled with unanswered questions.

you’re an enigma that he cannot solve.

“out of the way, girl,” sukuna easily shoves you to the side with one hand. he’s still not looking you in the eyes. he refuses to look in the eyes of the one woman whom he tried to kill. the sole woman who seems to accept him for who he is.

you’re the only one who’s able to understand him and yet he tried to get rid of you. perhaps he’s afraid of being understood and accepted. sukuna is fine on his own—there’s no need for anyone by his side.

you manage to get your breathing under control after a couple seconds. you’re still hyperventilating, but it’s getting better. your body shakes as you cover yourself with the sheets, your hair messily covering your vision. you reach a hand out to sukuna, curious about what’s gotten into him, “i’m, ngh- are you okay, m—”

“i said, get out,” the man raises his voice before harshly grabbing your wrist. sukuna pushes you towards the exit of his chambers. you stumble forward and manage to catch yourself by grabbing onto the nearest wall. everything is happening so fast.

you simply nod and grab your robes from the floor. you hurriedly cover yourself before stepping out of the room. you fall to your knees not two steps away into the hallway. your hand flies up to your neck, touching it as if making sure that you’re still alive.

you can’t believe sukuna spared you. if he changed his mind one second later than he originally had, you’d be a lost cause.

tears well up in your eyes as the gravity of the situation settles in. you may have accepted your fate in the heat of the moment, but now that it’s over, you’re left trembling on your own. you can’t shake off that intense look in sukuna’s eyes as he pounded you into the mattress.

he was hungry for your soul. to consume you and not leave any of your bones—to get rid of you so you’re out of his sight and mind.

you sniffle and can’t bring yourself to stand up. you’ve lost strength in your legs because the adrenaline levels in your body have dropped. you slowly crawl over the floor and hope that no one catches you in a pitiful state like this.

you manage to get a couple metres away, though soon find yourself staring at a pair of socks that come into view. you lift your head and the owner of the tabi eventually appears in sight.

“uraume,” your voice is hoarse. you make eye contact with sukuna’s personal chef as they stand before you, their expression unreadable.

the sigh they let out tells you that they’ve expected such an outcome since long ago. without a word, they reach a hand out and help you up.

. . .

it’s been a week since then. uraume has helped you recover from that unfortunate experience. the other concubines didn’t dare talk to you. they’ve noticed the change in sukuna’s behavior after that night he spent with you.

he’s gone on more rampages than he usually does. he’s been killing innocent servants who walked past him while on duty, and visiting nearby villages only to commit mass destruction. his emotions are uncontrollable at this point and no one has a clue on what to do.

the best option is to stay out of sukuna’s sight. and not to mess with you, just in case.

you’ve personally tried to approach him a couple times, but either chicken out or get totally ignored. you really want to talk it out, though it may seem impossible. you’ve evaded death once, you’re not sure if you can do that twice.

you’re currently sitting on a bench in the courtyard as uraume is applying an ointment to your throat. your neck still hurts with every move you make. the strength of sukuna’s hand is not to be underestimated, you know that.

you flinch as they rub the cold liquid over your achy skin. it helps numbing the pain, which is god sent for when you want to sleep. you can easily rest without having to suffer the unbearable discomfort in your neck muscles.

it’s a bit quiet in the garden. it isn’t unusual for uraume to be silent, but you’re aching to talk about what’s bothering you. of course, the oh-so-important subject includes no one other than the king of curses.

you sigh and start rambling about your failed attempts to reconcile your relationship with sukuna. you’re getting frustrated and sad at the situation. you want nothing more than to go back to how things were—with you receiving special treatment.

you miss his voice, his touches, his hair, his skin, his muscles, his eyes, his hugs. . . it’s all too much to bear with. you want the sukuna you know back. you don’t care if he tried to get rid of you. you’ve long understood that it was his primal, unspoken urges that had taken over his brain.

“i don’t know.. he doesn’t want to talk to me nor see me,” you shrug and pout. uraume nods and tilts your chin back gently to get the ointment in every little cranny. you stare up at the bright blue sky, the gentle breeze being comforting, both mentally and physically.

your ears pick up on footsteps behind you. heavy footsteps which you recognise as sukuna’s. you whip your head to the side, perhaps a bit too fast, causing the pain in your neck muscles to return. you hear uraume sigh as they see their hard work go to waste in under a split second.

your eyes are focused on sukuna’s large stature filling out the layout of the garden. uraume politely bows at their master after taking a few steps away from you. they don’t lift their head as sukuna walks past you both.

he doesn’t spare you a glance. it’s like you’re not there at all. you frown and pout, though know better than to make a fool out of yourself and speak up. you watch the man walk into the main building of the estate, his sharp eyes focused on the path ahead, his hands resting inside the sleeves of his black kimono.

once sukuna disappears from your vision, you sigh and slump back against the bench. you look at uraume as they move close to you again, taking a glance at your neck. you huff and cock your head to the entrance of the building, “see! that’s what i mean!”

you’re clearly fed up. you just want to make up. you don’t care about the fact that he nearly killed you in that moment. you simply desire to feel that connection between the two of you again. a complicated relationship with its many ups and downs. it may be toxic, but you crave it.

uraume hums at your worries. they radiate a sense of peace that inevitably calms you down as well. they take a quick glance at the direction where sukuna was last seen. they’ve been serving him ever since decennia back��way before you became his concubine.

they’ve never seen him this conflicted, but they don’t tell you that. uraume looks back at you with a simple nod, trusting that you’ll be fine. if your life has been spared when sukuna was in such an indescribable irrational state of mind, then there’s nothing to worry about.

you’re the only one who’s ever escaped death by his hands. that is an incredible feat by itself.

uraume rubs the oil over your neck again, getting the last spots as they reassure you with one simple sentence; “i’m sure lord sukuna simply requires some time alone.”

. . .

you take uraume’s comment seriously. if sukuna needed time, you’ll give him as much space as possible. and thus it’s been another week ever since then.

it’s a sunday night and you can’t sleep. you get up from your futon and wrap a simple blanket around your body. you can’t be bothered to brush your hair or look proper. no one will be up during this ungodly hour anyway.

you sneak out of your chambers and walk down the long hallways. you slide the door to the courtyard open and step out onto the pavement after putting on your geta. it’s a chilly night with a full moon, perfect weather to take a breather.

you walk around the familiar scenery and crouch down near a patch of flowers. they’re your favorites. sukuna had personally ordered his servants to plant them in the garden after he found out you like them. the memory brings a fond smile to your face.

such small yet meaningful actions never fail to melt your heart. it’s another reason why you want to make up with sukuna. you want to help with whatever he’s struggling with, however you know that man will never accept the aid.

you wish to support him at the very least. you want to show your devotion to him, if that already wasn’t clear to him.

you sigh and stand up. you’re caught up in your own thoughts to realise that someone’s been watching you the entire time. you walk straight forward until you reach the koi pond. you stare at the fish as they float in the clear water.

you wish you could be as carefree as them. you turn around to walk back to your room after it’s getting a bit too cold. you did not expect to bump your head against a hard surface. “ow,” you rub your forehead and look up.

there he stands; the man you’ve been dying to see and speak to. sukuna stares down at you without uttering a word, his sharp eyes finally looking into yours.

“ry— my lord,” you stammer, switching to a more polite stance. you’re thrilled, but the excitement quickly dies down as you remember uraume’s words; he needs time. you don’t want to disturb him, as much as you want to jump into his arms. you bow your head at him, “have a good night.”

your heart hurts as you force yourself away from sukuna. you step away from him and look at the ground as you walk. simply seeing him from up close again has been enough for now. though, your body yearns for more.

a simple touch will suffice. . .

you’re surprised when you feel a tug at the blanket around your shoulders. you stumble back and nearly fall on your bum if it wasn’t for sukuna holding you up. you feel an arm sneak around your waist from behind, surprisingly gentle. much gentle than ever before.

sukuna lowers his head to whisper in your ear. he lets his wet tongue slide over the shell, nibbling at the skin as if reminding himself of your taste, “stay.”

it’s an order, that you can tell. you’re weak for him and thus you obey without a single sign of protest. you feel a sudden sharp sting on the side of your neck which makes you remember what caused it. sukuna seems to notice the same thing.

it’s been getting better, but you still randomly get tingles near your neck area when you move it around too much. you silently push through the pain, which only lasts about a few seconds.

sukuna doesn’t comment on it, but takes a mental note of the sight. he’s recalling that time when you’ve nearly died at his hands. his eyes darken at the memory. he’s been trying to process the fact that he’s lost control over himself. those dark urges had taken over his mind and body, nearly consuming him whole.

they’re still hidden inside him—the desires to possess you, crush you, consume and devour your heart, body and soul. they intensify when you’re with him. it doesn’t happen with anyone else.

sukuna still cannot comprehend why you. what does that feeling in his stomach mean whenever he’s with you? it’s irritating, because it confuses him. confusing things which he doesn’t hold the answer over, annoy the king of curses.

an urge to claim someone as his forever, going as far as to want to consume them, is a new feeling to sukuna. it’s an unhealthy obsession that’s started because of you.

is that what humans call love?

he’s thought about it. perhaps, that is the case. but it must be a different type of love—one that’s so overwhelming that it’s dangerous. for both parties involved.

sukuna sighs. thinking about emotions and feelings isn’t his forte—it never really was. it’s stupid and foolish. and yet sukuna feels like a true king whenever you’re with him. your devotion to him sends shivers down his spine in a good way.

it showed two weeks ago. he saw how you accepted your position; your death. it turns him on to see you so submissive and obedient. maybe that’s also a reason why he nearly lost his mind that day.

lust is a scary thing.

sukuna’s lips avoid your neck. he rests his forehead on top of your shoulder, simply standing still against you from behind. the chilly breeze is long forgotten as his large stature protects you from the cold air. you don’t even need your blanket anymore.

you smile in content as you finally get what you want. you don’t even need an apology. hell—you don’t even need any words. this moment is more than enough to rebuild your relationship with the man behind you.

“y’re not going anywhere, yeah?” sukuna says in a low and possessive tone. it’s another command you follow without hesitation. he’s never going to tell you directly, but the lack of your presence has definitely been felt. now that he has you, his favorite concubine, he’s not going to lose you again. he won’t allow it.

you nod at sukuna’s words with a chuckle. you’re happy to be back in his warm embrace. you know that sukuna isn’t one to talk about his own inner turmoil, so you don’t push it.

those dark urges of his are to be discussed another day, if sukuna allows it. for now, this fleeting moment is more than enough. you reply to his order as you always do, to any command that leaves his lips;

“understood, my lord.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #jjk angst #sukuna angst

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lovelivision · 8 days ago

Text

FLIRTY SKIRTY ♡

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: ꒰𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞꒱ fushiguro toji/reader, geto suguru/reader, gojo satoru/reader, kamo choso/reader

𝐖𝐂: 5.8k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: wearing a skirt around your boyfriend? you better be ready for some delicious consequences!!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, swearing, dirty talk, (slight) overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fingering, p in v sex, cunnilingus, creampie, f!reader, no use of y/n, the typical depravity to be expected of me atp <3

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 ★

Wearing a skirt around Toji is like his kryptonite, you know it, and he knows you know too because every time he’s even a tiny bit annoyed by something you’ve said or done, there you are, suddenly wearing your favourite little skirt. Prancing around the apartment and practically rubbing it in his face how good you look as the material flutters with your every step.

Toji sits on the couch as you move from room to room tidying up, his leg bouncing as he pretends to not notice you. The argument was stupid, and you weren’t even completely in the wrong but here you are trying to tempt him into forgiving you even though he would’ve been over it by dinner.

It’s not like you particularly need or want his forgiveness right now though, you just know that the sex you have while he’s annoyed and unbelievably turned on is always the best sex you have. So, yeah, you both would’ve been fine and over the disagreement in a few hours but why waste the opportunity to turn your boyfriend on when it’s right in front of you?

He doesn’t last long which is entirely predictable of him, his hands reaching for you as you pass by, resolve quickly snapping. A slight gasp slips past your lips as he tugs you into his lap, landing on him with a huff, thighs straddling his.

His lips press against your skin hurriedly, teeth nipping at your neck lightly, leaving behind small marks. Hands large on your hips, grabbing and pulling at your flesh, creeping under the skirt you’ve been flaunting yourself in.

“Toji, slow down,” you laugh breathlessly at his impatience.

He grumbles against you, “Your fault, wearing that stupid skirt–”

“–You like this skirt,” you half-heartedly pout back.

“Mhm, like you better out of it,” he snarks back.

You smile knowingly at him, “I think we both know that’s not true.”

His tongue clicks at you, not able to deny something you both know to be obviously true, “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Does that mean you’re not angry anymore?” You caress his face, thumb tracing his lower lip lightly.

“You do look damn good in this skirt, doll.” His hand creeps up your inner thigh, under aforementioned skirt, “And as a bonus,” his smile grows, “Ease of access.”

His thumb presses against your covered cunt, rubbing right on top of your clit, “You’re such a – mmph – tease, Toji.”

He feigns innocence, “Me? I think we both know it’s you who is the real tease.”

“Do we?” You question his logic.

“Yeah,” he’s pulling your panties to the side as he answers, fingers slipping through your wet slit, “We do.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, becoming wobbly, “Proving – hah – yourself wrong right now.”

“You talk too much, doll,” he prods at your entrance, slowly slipping a single digit inside, “I’d really rather hear you moan instead.”

Your head tilts towards him, biting into the material of his shirt as he begins fucking his finger into you, thumb circling your clit so perfectly you could swear you’re seeing stars. A drawn-out moan stutters from your chest, whined and pathetic for how little he’s done. His chuckle is self-satisfied, clearly already getting exactly what he wanted.

“That’s it, just what I wanted to hear.”

One of your own hands slips to the front of his trousers, cupping his very prominent erection, a gruff moan stifled from him at your touch. “Toji, please–”

“Oh? You want my cock, doll?” Tone smug but clearly slowly losing his fucking mind at how your hand squeezes him, thumb teasing the tip of his dick, “You know you gotta ask for it.”

“Please – hah –”

A second finger is added to his first, stretching you wider, scissoring his digits before slipping deep. Rubbing deliciously against your walls, crooking towards him, your slick dripping down his fingers towards his wrist.

He hums at you, gaze focused on how his hand has disappeared under your skirt, “Hmm? I didn’t quite catch that?”

“Please fuck me,” words panted, struggling to get out a full sentence with the way he crooks his fingers just right every time you open your mouth.

He slips his digits from you, keeping your panties tugged to the side, “Anything for you,” he coos sweetly.

Taking initiative, you pull him from his pants, his cock flushed a pretty pink, tip leaky. He shudders a breath at your grip on him, thumb swiping teasingly over where he’s most sensitive. Shuffling in closer, you hover over his dick, taking your time to torment him like he did you.

“Come on, doll, taking your sweet time,” he groans at you.

“Oh? You want my pussy?” You mimic his words from earlier, “You gotta ask for it.”

He chuckles humourlessly at you, baring his teeth for a moment before asking begrudgingly, “Give me your sweet little pussy, doll.” He tacks on for good measure, “Please.”

“Anything for you, baby,” you repeat his sentiments again, tone light and singsong.

He grins at you, tight lipped, “I really do prefer it when you’re moaning–”

Words getting cut off as you sink down on him, cunt greedily taking his cock, “I feel the – mmph – same,” you smile back, mouth dropping open at how his hips thrust upwards.

His head rolls onto the back of the couch, eyes glazed as he looks down at where his dick is stuffing you full. View blocked by the cute skirt you’re sporting, the fact you’re taking him so perfectly and nobody would be able to tell from a first glance making him stupid. Dick twitching inside you as he works himself up at the thought of fucking you in a room while everyone else was none the wiser.

Not missing his gaze, you reach for the hem of your skirt, lifting it up to show him how you’re sitting on his cock. Cunt full and fucked open by him, a guttural groan comes from his chest, like he’s been gut punched. The way you’ve lifted your skirt to show off for him driving him wild, he’s shooting up quickly, arms wrapping around you and pulling your body close to his.

“Fucking hell, doll, you really are gonna kill me,” he whispers in your ear, breath hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“Toji– ah!–”

Words cut off by how he starts fucking up into you relentlessly, lewd squelching noises of him ruining you filling the room. Pussy obscenely wet and taking him so well, your hips meeting his thrusts eagerly. His arms wrapped around you firmly, his hold on you being leveraged to use you to fuck himself. He’s taking control of your pace, making you keep up with him.

He’s in complete control, hips wild as he bucks up into you while also pulling you down into him. Your head tucks into him, fingers pulling at the material of his shirt. Gasps and moans pouring from you freely at how he hammers into you over and over. You’re not even sure you’re thinking let alone speaking, anything you might be saying completely unintelligible.

“Can’t even stay mad at you – hnn – not in this – hah – fffucking skirt,” his hands move to your ass, grabbing at your flesh, pulling you open as he keeps insistently fucking into your tight pussy.

His groans reverberate through his chest, you can feel it with how you’re pressed up to him, every sound he makes pricks at your skin. Turned on beyond belief as you let yourself get fucked blissfully, eyes rolling as you drool onto his stupidly tight t-shirt.

Getting exactly what you wanted from him, his unrestrained pace and desperate thrusts just what you needed. Cunt pulsing around him obscenely as your orgasm gets closer and closer, tasting it on the tip of your tongue.

“So close aren’t you?” he sounds completely fucked out, words almost slurring with how good it all feels, “Need it, doll – hah – wanna feel the way you fucking squeeze – mmph – me as you coat my dick.”

“Toji, feels so– oh! Feels so fucking good,” you cry out at him, eyes beginning to water.

He bites out at you, “I know it does– fuck– I know it does.”

“I– I’m gonna–”

He smiles bright against your skin, “That’s fucking it, let go for me.”

Your body nearly locks up at the force of which your orgasm washes over you, whines leaving you pitifully as your pussy spasms around him, tight as you cum all over his cock. Toji moans at how you grip him, his face turning to the side, teeth latching into the skin of your shoulder. Biting down and leaving behind a mark, his moans stifled into your skin. His own orgasm wracking over him, triggered by yours.

He's cumming so deep inside you, dick twitching as he lets himself fill you with his seed. Hips not stopping as he keeps fucking up into you, his cum leaking from you and down into his lap. Forcing the two of you into overstimulation but not stopping, not until you’re whimpering at him.

“Toji– too much,” you pant against his chest.

He pulls you back so he can look you in the eye, you can see when he notices how wrecked you are by the way his gaze lights up, proud of himself. Your cheeks tear stained and drool caught on the corner of your lip.

His hand is reaching up, thumb rubbing at the spit in the corner of your mouth, “You look really pretty right now, all fucked full, dumb look on your face while in that fucking skirt.”

You smile stupidly at him, “So you’re not angry anymore?”

“Be careful, doll, if this is how you apologise I might start pointless arguments with you more often.” He’s grinning at you like an idiot, like he might actually start a fight just to see you in this skirt again.

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 ★

The feeling of eyes on you has been prevalent all day, specifically, Geto’s eyes have been on you all day. Not able to make nearly any move without the feeling of him tracking you closely, you don’t even know what’s wrong with him or what you did. The only thing you do know is that your boyfriend has been watching you very intently today.

As you fold your laundry you can feel him following your movements, he’s watching you from the bed, observing how you carefully fold and put away your clothes. Normally it wouldn’t bother you but you’re beginning to feel a little unsettled by all his quiet staring.

Without sparing a glance, you continue what you’re doing, “Are you feeling okay today?”

“Hmm?” he hums at you distractedly before registering what you’ve said, “Yeah I’m fine, why?”

“You’ve been staring at me all day,” your brow raises at him.

He throws back at you, “I can’t gaze at my girlfriend?”

“Not when you’re starting to freak her out… no.”

You don’t notice him getting off the bed, his movements quiet, only realising when he’s suddenly behind you and his hands are dragging over your body. Groping you over your clothes, his lips leaving soft kisses against your neck.

Bending your head down, you give him more access, “Ahhh, I see what’s happened now.”

“And what’s that?” He sounds amused.

Spinning in his grip, you loop your arms around his neck, “You’re looking to get some, huh?”

Geto laughs at your words, a pretty sound that makes your heart flutter.

“Am I wrong?” You pout back at him.

“Nope, dead on.” He kisses your lips softly before picking you up and carrying you over to your bed.

You can’t help the giggles that slip as he carries you over to and drops you on top of your mattress, bouncing slightly with the force used. He’s undressing in front of you, and you follow his lead, pulling off your shirt before reaching for your skirt. Not getting far though because his hands are reaching out and stopping you.

“Keep the skirt on, pretty.”

His request flusters you but you nod at him, keeping it on like he asked. Your panties on the other hand are being tugged off by him in one swift motion. He’s moving so quickly, clearly impatient as he manoeuvrers you into the position he wants.

“Hands and knees, baby– tha’s it,” He’s quiet after that, apparently admiring the view.

“Sugu, what are you– ah!”

Just as you started asking him what he was doing, his fingers slip through your folds, spreading your slick all over your cunt. His fingers lingering at your slit, enjoying the way your knees buckle before pushing into your entrance. It’s hard to keep your noises contained, your arms struggling to keep yourself up at how he stuffs you with them.

Not lingering long before he’s pulling his digits from you, using your wetness to coat his cock. Soft wet clicking sounds coming from behind you at how he leisurely strokes himself.

“You’re so fucking wet already,” he notes crudely, a sick kind of joy in his tone, almost like he means it as a compliment.

You can’t even tell him to stop being a tease because he’s swiping his dick through your folds, probing at your hole, gliding to your clit and back again. Repeating his motions, only so he can make you twitch and have your breath catching in your throat. The small whimpers you let out his favourite song.

“You’re being – mmph – cruel,” Your voice is pathetic, and you can’t help it, he got you all worked up only to be mean.

He slaps his dick against your pussy a few times, “I’m sorry, baby, you want me to fuck you now?”

Such a condescending tone, if you weren’t already on all fours and needy you’d tell him to shove it, “Please.”

“Not very convincing…”

“Sugu–” you stop short, whine bubbling in your throat, “Please~”

“So cooperative,” he coos at you.

At your pitiful plead, he pushes into your tight cunt, stretching you open on his cock. You jolt forward at it, arms barely holding up, the stretch tingling up your spine. Moans tumble from your lips as he rocks into you, his dick sitting heavy inside you.

Geto’s cock jerks inside you, his head dizzy at how you feel wrapped around him. Pussy so snug it’s making his teeth clench, your skirt bunches around your waist. The sight of his dick shoved inside your hole while you’re wearing it making his heart pound, barely able to focus with the thumping in his ears.

He’s so still and it’s driving you wild, your walls pulsing around him, your hips wiggling back to hopefully get his attention. It works, he’s pulling back oh so slowly, letting you savour the hot drag of his cock as it leaves your needy cunt. Not so gentle on the way back in, hips thrusting forward harshly, the air knocking out of you as your arms finally give in.

Back arched meanly, your hands gripping the sheets. The new angle has your breathing speed up, suddenly so much needier. You spread your legs further apart and push back, your pussy desperate for more.

He laughs breathlessly at the sight, a single hand pressing into the arch in your back, “Someone’s – hah – eager.”

You grind back into him, “N–need it– hnn– Sugu!”

A shudder runs down his spine at the want in your tone, not expecting you to be so needy. Feeling benevolent and just as desperate as you, he starts a harsh pace. His cock drilling into your gushing hole, the sloppy sounds of him fucking into you the only thing heard aside from your shared moans.

You keep trying to fuck back onto him, his hand holding down harder as he hisses through his teeth, “J–just fuckin take what I give, greedy little thing.”

He’s pinned you so you can’t wiggle back onto him even if you want to, his pace feeling so much more brutal when you’re forced to just take it. Eyes rolling with how he manages to hit every spot inside you perfectly, fat cock reaching the right spots without even having to try. Drooling onto the bed sheets with the pleasure running down your spine.

Geto can’t take his eyes off how your ass jiggles every time he stuffs himself back into your pretty pussy, hypnotised by how your cunt bludges while taking him. Dick so unbelievably hard as your skirt ruffles around your waist, moving with each thrust back inside your tight heat.

You can’t think properly, brain too foggy to even verbalise your oncoming orgasm. Not that he needed a warning, fully aware of how close you are by how you shake and your walls grip him impossibly tight. His fingers reach around to thrum at your clit, making you finish suddenly. Somehow your back arching even deeper, your whines pitchy as you cry into the sheets.

The feel of your cunt convulsing around him triggering his own end, pulling out and stroking himself. Just so he can cum all over your ass and skirt, the material no doubt ruined by the sheer amount he’s managed to cum all over it. Twisted pleasure filling him at having coated that pretty little skirt in his cum, proof of how diabolically he fucked you in it.

Knees giving out, you flop onto the bed, head spinning in your come down. Everything feels fuzzy, a lovely kind of fuzzy. “You’re putting away the rest of the laundry for ruining my skirt.”

Geto leans down, front to your back, pressing kisses to your shoulders, “Worth it.”

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 ★

Today had been a nice day out with Gojo, visiting your favourite café and going shopping afterwards. The weather was perfect, and you’d found some really cute goodies while out. The only thing of special note aside from Gojo’s insistent compliments on how good you looked was his otherwise uncharacteristic quiet.

Normally so ready to tease and talk about absolutely nothing replaced with a quiet and soft blush. Daydreaming while you ate, off in the clouds as you walked ahead of him on the streets, he seemed to be overall a little spacey today. It’s endearing albeit concerning, something clearly taking up all his thoughts.

Even in the elevator up to his apartment floor he’s not quite all there, though a little more fidgety, something you read as being keen to get home. You feel a little guilty for having such a nice time if he’s been waiting to get home the whole day, a fact that’s almost cemented when at the door he sighs frustratedly as he struggles to find the right key.

Cautiously, you take them from him and easily navigate to the right key, unlocking and opening the door. The apartment warm and empty as you step through the threshold. Once you’re through the door, Gojo is hastily shucking off his shoes and dropping all your bags. Impatiently waiting for you to take off your shoes.

As soon as they’re off and you’re bending back up straight, he’s on you. Lips hot against your skin, messy in how he kisses your mouth. Tongue so quick to push in and brush up against yours, suddenly so dizzy at the speed of which he’s moved. Your hands brace on his broad shoulders, shocked by his need, taking you off guard completely.

Pulling back, he speaks between kisses on your neck, “You looked so fucking pretty today, so pretty, beautiful!”

“W–what’s gotten into you?”

“You.” He huffs against you, “You got into me.” His hand trails up your leg and under your skirt, “You and this damn skirt.”

He’s so flustered, a pretty shade of pink dancing along his cheeks, hungry look in his gaze. Suddenly all his daydreaming and lingering behind makes a whole lot more sense. He walks you backwards until you hit the wall, resting against it. Hand dancing along the waistband of your panties under your skirt.

“Gojo–”

“–So mean…” he pouts.

“Satoru…” A force of habit to use his last name, still not quite used to the switch, “…Did you at least have a nice time out?” Still feeling a little worried he didn’t.

“I had a fantastic time,” he smiles, “Loved thinking about fucking you in this skirt the whole day…” His fingers slip into your panties, “…And now I’m going to have a fantastic time making that reality.”

Quick to circle around your clit maddeningly, your head knocking back against the wall with the stimulation. Soft and pleased hum coming from him at your reaction, always so happy at how sensitive you are, it makes it easier for him to drive you insane.

“You are so cute,” he compliments again, “Are you gonna let me fuck you here in the entry way?”

As much as you try for them not to, your words still come out a little wobbly, “I– hnn– whatever y–you want~”

“So good to me,” he sounds proud, of you or himself you can’t tell.

He rewards you by dipping his fingers down to your hole, almost pushing inside. You wiggle your hips down into his hand, desperate to be filled, his teasing beginning to be too much. All worked up and ready to be fucked but he has different plans.

“Want you to cum first,” he tuts, “Want it extra messy when I fuck you.”

After this long, you’d think he wouldn’t fluster you so much, but his words have you bristling, face burning at his comment. His fingers draw back to your clit and repeat his earlier motions, though he gives you more pressure this time, building you up so carefully, as if brick by brick.

Your legs shake under you, starting to struggle to hold yourself firmly with how good it feels. So quick to get you close, it’s almost embarrassing how easy it is for him to make you cum. Chest stuttering as you struggle to draw in a steady breath, soft moans interrupting the motion.

“G– Satoru, I’m so close,” Your lower lip shakes with your words.

His eyes glint, excitement in his expression, “Good. Cum.”

Your insides pull tight, stomach doing flips as he insistently rubs over your clit, not changing a single thing about how he’s touching you. Head lolling on your shoulders as your fingers dig into his shoulders, legs shaking so much more as you struggle to keep hold of him. Mostly being supported now by his free hand on your hip. Orgasm washing over you, eyes unseeing for a moment as your hearing goes dull.

Cunt contracting around nothing, pitiful whines falling from you at the disappointment, always feeling so much better to cum around him. He doesn’t grace you with much of a come down, ripping your panties off before tugging down his pants just enough to pull his cock out of them. He’s so hurried, you’re surprised he was so patient when he’d been daydreaming about fucking you the whole day. Your skirt is bunched around your waist as he lifts you up, guiding you to lock your legs behind him.

He sounds so ruined already, “I don’t think I can be patient, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

One of your hands leaves his shoulder and slips into his hair, gently scratching at his scalp, “Tha’s okay.”

“I’m in love with you,” he moans, his tip dragging through your folds.

Your cum leaving you so slick, dripping down your thighs and onto his dick as he runs it between your pussy lips. He doesn’t think he can physically handle anymore teasing, choosing instead to angle himself at your entrance. Giving you one final glance to make sure you’re okay before stretching you open, his cock splitting you damn near in half as he spears you with it.

Gojo almost folds into you at the initial feel of your snug cunt sucking him in, guttural groan leaving him. He’s trying so hard to go slow, to not give you too much at once but it’s really hard when you have such a greedy pussy. His dick twitches pathetically inside you, so sensitive from how hard and desperate he’s been.

With borderline hearts in his eyes, he huffs, “Think I– fuck– I’m in love with your cunt, sweetie.”

You bite your lip as you lock down, watching the way he’s sliding into you, pussy budging around his big cock.

“I– hah– love you, too, ‘Toru.” It’s meant to be facetious, but it loses it’s meaning when you’re moaning so pitifully for him.

The nickname you use has him stuffing you to the brim all at once, his dick sitting deep inside you. He almost purrs with how snugly you squeeze him, all wet and tight and so so perfect. If he had even a little bit less self-control he’d have cum in you just from being balls deep. Feeling so sensitive to every reaction he pulls from you, abs pulling at how you flutter around him, the cause of it being you looking down at how deep he’s in you.

Just to tease you, he pulls out so slowly, both of you watching how shiny his cock is. Coated in your previous orgasm, he shudders at it, jerking as he pulls out.

“Now the fun part,” he winks at you before shoving himself back in quickly, the force of it nearly knocking the breath from you.

Grateful for his hands on your thighs because you don’t have faith in your ability to cling to him. His pace is relentless, desperation that reflects his patient waiting for this moment. Fucking you so perfectly, to the point you can’t speak. Only thing leaving you are moans and his name, all slurred and barely comprehensible.

It’s obscenely messy how he fucks into you, your thighs wet, his dick slick, exactly how he wanted it. The sloppy sounds of him fucking your sweet little pussy making his brain buzz, high coming on so quick that he can’t help but feel a little disappointed, wanting to stuff you full forever. Not ready to part from you.

His thumb reaches for your sensitive clit, your body flinching at it, too much too soon but he needs you to cum again, he needs to feel it around him this time. Easily pulling a second orgasm from you like this, your whole body trembling in his arms, eyes rolling as you coat his dick with your cum.

Big dopey smile on his face as you finish around him, continuing to play with your clit just to watch you jolt in his hold, finding it adorable. Eventually pulling back when you pout at him, all dazed and bordering on overstimulation.

“Sorry, sweetie,” his head falls back for a moment, almost whining, “Y–you just look so– hah– fuck– cute shaking while I fuck you.”

“Cum please,” you murmur, voice weak, “’Toru, I wan’ it.”

“Ohh you’ll get it– hnn–” His voice cutting off with his orgasm.

Stuffing himself inside you, hot and deep as he pumps you full of his cum, hips grinding into yours to ride out his pleasure. Cumming so much that he’s leaking from your hole, down his cock and onto his pants and then the floor. He’s made a proper mess, just like he wanted.

Fucked out, he grins at you, “Round two in the bedroom?”

He’s insatiable…

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 ★

Cooking with Choso is a pleasant evening activity, prepping dinner together as you chat about your days. Something you’re happily doing, recounting your activities today and paying no mind to your boyfriends distracted chopping. Not noticing how he’s checking you out in your new skirt, one you hadn’t yet worn around him, he knows because if you had he’d have gone fucking wild ages ago.

“New skirt?” He cuts you off.

“Hmm?” You’re confused for a moment, “Oh, yeah, I got it the other day. Do you like it?” You step away from the bench and spin for him, showing it off.

A light blush dusts his cheeks at how you show it off for him, “Yeah… you look really pretty.”

It’s your turn to feel flustered at his compliment, going back to what you were doing before you spun for him.

A little after you’ve prepped everything, he’s hanging off you, leaving kisses to your neck. His breath against your skin sending a shudder down your spine. Turning to face him, you indulge in making out with him, his tongue licking into your mouth, humming as he does. His hands wander slightly, growing provocative in how he’s touching you. Small moan pulling from you at how he’s groping at you, at how insistently he’s kissing you.

Suddenly he’s dropping to his knees, his eyes glassy as he begs, “Lemme put my mouth on you, please.” Hands already pushing your skirt up, face pressing between your legs.

“I– okay, Cho, take what you need,” You offer in a comforting voice, not expecting his need.

Nose to your panties, he inhales your scent, purring with it. Pleased with how wet for him you already are, pressing his tongue to your cunt through your panties. The material soaking with his saliva and moulding to your pussy lips, his tongue beginning to lick at you. Spreading your folds with it, your pleasure muted as he lightly licks over your clit.

The dull pleasure making you feel insane, wanting so badly for him to remove your underwear, wanting his hot tongue against your sensitive skin. Something he seems unwilling to give you yet, you’re not sure if he’s teasing himself or you more by doing this. Your hands brace against the bench top behind you, needing stability, already knowing he’s going to have you a mess in a few moments.

Your panties are coated, wet and sticking to your cunt with his drool and your slick. Face hot as you watch him suck at the material of them, his eyes already so dazed and unfocused, drunk on your pussy and he’s not even had the chance to put his mouth directly on it. When you put this skirt on today you had no idea you would be torturing your poor boyfriend with it, never having seen him this depraved and horny.

Dark spot seeping into his pants where his tip rests, so turned on he’s leaking into them, precum coating his clothes in a desperate display. Heart leaping in your chest at the realisation that you’ve done this to him.

“So beautiful, always so beautiful, so cute in your skirt…” His praises are murmured and slurred as he continues to lap at your cunt through your panties.

“Cho~” you whine at him, “Please take them off.”

He barely even pulls his mouth from you, just enough to rip the soaked article from your person before his tongue is lapping at your slit directly. Loud and obscene whine leaving him, pitchy moan leaving you too. The feeling of having his tongue on your skin dizzying after he’d played with you for so long. Almost intense how he eats at you, legs trembling as your arms fight to keep you up.

Soft growls tumble from his lips as he continuously laps at your sloppy cunt, shoving his face deeper between your legs, tongue pushing into your hole. Stretching around the muscle, walls fluttering snugly around him, his head buzzing with the feeling. His nose knocking into your clit as he vigorously makes out with your pussy.

Not able to help himself, he rubs over his pants, hand giving him minimal relief. Watching him rut into his hand as he drinks down your slick has a feral need clawing at your insides, wanting so badly to sit on him.

“I– I wanna ride– ohh fuck!–”

He shakes his head no at you, not willing to part from you yet, the action making you cry out. Tummy flipping at the pleasure he just gave you from it, fingers gripping the counter so hard it almost hurts. What does you in though, is Choso pulling his dick from his pants, needing the relief of being released from its confines.

Tip so pink and weeping precum, so hard it looks painful. You could help if he’d let you but with how one hand has you pinned to the counter and how his mouth is happily slurping you down you don’t think he’s going to stop now. His free hand grabs his cock, it twitches pitifully, so worked up. He barely focuses on stroking himself, mostly squeezing to offer some kind of pleasure.

The whole thing is overwhelming, your orgasm rocking through you suddenly and unexpectedly. You nearly fold with it, fighting to keep yourself upright. Mind so hazy as you cum into his mouth, vaguely registering his whimpers as he revels in your orgasm coating his tongue. He continues to lick you into overstimulation, body jerking as he doesn’t stop. Not stopping until your hand tugs at his hair and pulls him away.

He’s such a mess, lips and chin covered in your cum and slick, his eyes beyond pussy drunk. His dick absurdly hard and leaking obscenely. Getting to your knees you push him back onto the floor and straddle his lap, hovering right over his dick. Taking a few breaths before lowering yourself to sink down on him. His hands grip at your hips, almost shaking with his need.

The stretch is a lot, his cock fucking you open lewdly, if you weren’t one orgasm deep and so unbelievably turned on you doubt you’d be able to pull this off. When you take him to the hilt, Choso makes a sound like he’s been gut punched, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“So perfect, feel so perfect, taste so perfect…” again mumbling nonsensical praise to you, his words blending together at the feel of your snug cunt so hot around him.

You return his praise, knowing he wants to hear it, “Did s–so good– hah–, Cho, m– make me feel so good.”

He asks, “Yeah?”

You nod back at him, “Yeah.”

After a moment of adjusting to him, you begin bouncing on his dick. Ending each bounce with a grind into his pelvis, the movements have butterflies in your tummy, the stimulation against your clit making your head ring. Below you, Choso looks drunk, eyes lost as he gazes at you, to your cunt swallowing down his whole cock and back to you, not quite able to make up his mind on what he wants to watch most.

When your pace starts faltering, he’s gripping you tight and planting his feet on the ground. His harsh and fast thrusts up into you have you falling forward into him, taking the proximity as chance to kiss him deeply. Your tongue in his mouth licking up against his, swallowing down his moans and whines. One particularly harsh thrust has you parting from him with a shocked moan, instead tucking your head into his shoulder to whine and drool onto him. Brain going stupid as he fucks you so well.

Again, you’re cumming so suddenly, three perfect thrusts and his tip hitting so deep inside you and you’re finishing on him. Cunt convulsing around him as you coat his dick this time, the squelching sound of him fucking you through it almost embarrassing. He’s cumming at the same time as you, seed spilled deep inside you only to be pulled out with how furiously he fucks you both through it.

A mix of your shared mess coating the other, the display depraved and lewd and no doubt a bitch to clean up but so worth it for how fucking good you feel right now. Spine tingling and head fuzzy as you press soft kisses into his neck. His breathing heavy from under you, matching your own. His hands move from your hips to your back, running up and down in a comforting manner.

“So…” You begin, “I’m gonna make a note to wear this skirt more often.”

He smiles but his dick jumps inside you, “Please.”

𝐀/𝐍: i hope you guys enjoyyyeddd !! have beautiful days/nights <33

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

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perpetuallyfive · 1 month ago

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God, I'm so happy with what they did with Maddie Nolen.

I'm sure there will be plenty of people mad because obviously there was a weird backlash over a character who has sex with one half a ship, so I'm sure some people worry this will lead those people to feel justified in their initial response.

But ignoring people who can't emotionally regulate for a second, because those childish impulses aren't worth dictating the fun things a narrative can do: Maddie is SO INTERESTING as a character and she fills in a lot of the questions people seemed to have about the rest of the season.

Consider for a moment that it wasn't Caitlyn who convinced Vi to be an Enforcer. It was Maddie.

I know that some people took this line to be about Zaunites, a sort of obvious connection to the very racist idea of "one of the good ones," but since Maddie is talking about Marcus and his betrayal of the Enforcers just before this, I'm pretty sure her framing here is something else. The point she's making is specifically targeted at Vi's own beliefs and weaknesses, her desire to protect. That seems clear to me now with all we know about Maddie's capacity for manipulation.

She's not saying, "You're good, for a poor."

She's saying, "Wow, I agree with you, the Enforcers are really bad; it's so upsetting. I think you might be the only one who can change it, but only if you join us." This is what convinces Vi to do something she never thought she would.

Well, this and the fact that Caitlyn believes in her so much which, again, is information she gets fed to her directly from Maddie. It even seems like Maddie seeks her out just to say this, which on first viewing felt oddly convenient. Wow, Vi just happens to meet this naive girl who just happens to say exactly what she needs to hear to do something so out of character.

Except obviously none of it was coincidence. Everyone already knew how much Vi meant to Caitlyn and getting Caitlyn under control would require either controlling Vi or removing her from the equation. This was a push in that direction.

Then there's her more obvious role as the spy in Caitlyn's bed, there to reassure her that the Noxians are only trying to keep all of them safe. Then when Caitlyn expresses larger doubts, she's immediately ready to lay out an alternative. You could just give up, Maddie seems to whisper gently in her ear. Just reestablish things as they were before.

But she knows Caitlyn isn't going to go for that. She's not going to go back to the council as it was, because it's only going to remind her of the empty place her mother left behind. Maddie knows that Caitlyn isn't going to take this offer, which is precisely why she suggests it. She frames quitting as the only clear alternative to going along with everything Ambessa wants because she knows that Caitlyn will refuse, which leads her right back into alignment with Ambessa. She makes continued obedience into an active choice that Caitlyn affirms she's making.

Even Maddie's comments that suggest direct opposition to Ambessa — "you're our leader... I follow you" — are designed to frame herself and her true leader in direct opposition, just as Ambessa's own warning about entanglements is there to further that point. They both make a point of reminding Caitlyn that they are her true ally, isolating her further from anyone who isn't the devil and (other) devil on her shoulders.

This way Maddie and Ambessa can both tug at Caitlyn, pulling in what feels to her like opposite directions, all so that she lands precisely where they wanted her all along but with the illusion of active agency.

And look, I'm not saying my read on her is gospel, because I think they intentionally gave us enough room to really speculate and wonder about her, someone who could have been just a background nothing character but ends up being such a huge part of the second season. That's so interesting!

I especially love that she comes across as really naive and innocent, just some poor little thing swept up in the fervor, when in reality she's a true believer who has been manipulating things to go her way from the start.

#maddie nolen #arcane #arcane s2 spoilers #arcane spoilers #when maddie first showed up my immediate feeling was ''oh noooo they made a sweet and innocent cop''#BUT NOPE.#they did NOT and that's so fucking funny

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theroundbartable · 2 months ago

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Arthur is used to the comments about him taking a servant along wherever he goes, he really is, but usually people talk about how he's needlessly risking Merlin's life. About how dependened he is, how smitten. And really, he's used to it, patially because it's true.

This is different. These new knights are taunting Merlin.

Knight A: Wow, the King must care very little for you

Merlin: *raises brow*

Knight A: Risking your life like that just for a little comfort. Do you even know how to wield a sword?

Merlin: I manage just fine, thanks

Knight B: Now, why so moody? We're just concerned for your wellbeing.

Merlin: ... I have work to do

Knight A: Are you afraid you may not have enough underwear with you, in case we run into bandits?

Needless to say, Arthur is fuming. But he decides not to interfere. Merlin can take care of himself. In fact, during the next patrol, they'll see. They'll fucking see.

I takes more than one hunting trip and loads of patience, but eventually it pays off.

Merlin: *raises hand*

Arthur, alarmed, does the same. The knights halt.

Arthur: Merlin?

Merlin: There is something in the forest

Knight A: aw, is our dear little servant scared?

Arthur: *about to snap, despite the fact that he usually says the same things-*

Suddenly, an arrow flies past Knight A's face and is stuck in the bark behind him.

Knight A, young, inexperienced, swallows hard.

Merlin: *louder* Bandits!!!

A fight errupts in which Merlin grabs a sword, but not to the confusion of the Knights, but as their sign to defend themselves. They seem awfully lost and unsure what to do. Hesitant, as they have the chance to kill a bandit, Merlin steps in and does it for them. Arthur will never forget the look in their eyes.

Much later

Knight A:...

Knight B: I feel sick

Merlin: *quietly hands them some stew*

Arthur: The first kill is always the hardest. Give it some time and you'll be ready to face sorcerers with us.

Merlin: *twitches*

Arthur: Merlin, stop being such a worryward. You've faced dragons with me, you can handle little sorcerers.

Merlin: Sometimes I wonder if you're doing this on purpose.

Arthur: if you don't like it, you can always stay home in Camelot

Knight A & B: *surprised*

Merlin: and who, pray tell, is supposed to protect your royal arse? If you stayed home, I wouldn't be in half these situations!!!

Arthur: *rolling his eyes fondly* Will I ever be rid of you?

Merlin: no, don't think so. Stew? *Hands Arthur the plate*

Arthur: yes, thanks.

Merlin: prat

Later

Knight A: did... Did Arthur teach you how to fight with a sword?

Merlin: he tried, but I'm stoically allergic to improvement

Knight B: but... You killed that bandit

Merlin: ... He would have killed you. Bandits don't exactly hesitate the way you did

Knight A: we're... Sorry

Merlin: no, it's fine. That you hesitated means that you have some morals. Also, because of your irritating insults, Arthur listened to me for once

Knight A: what?

Merlin: yeah, he wanted to prove something to you. I don't exactly know what tho.

Knight A: you mean... When you made us halt... You always do that?

Merlin: and I'm usually right

Knight A: ... Is the King a fool?

Ah yes, Arthur thinks. That's more like it.

#bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #merlin bbc #arthur #concept

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clockwayswrites · 5 months ago

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A bird what now? part 9

birdritch masterpost

"It will make him easy to keep an eye on,” Tim said.

Bruce sighed but gave a little nod. That was true. Even if this was nothing nefarious, they would have to keep an eye on Danny just to make sure that it wasn’t a reoccurring event. After all, with those running around like Clay Face, Man Bat, and Killer Croc there are plenty of people who had gotten turned into creatures and inhuman beings through: both their own fault and not. Bruce certainly hoped whatever was going on wasn’t the result of something being worked on at WE, but he would certainly have to meet with Lucius soon and double check that. It could always be something that Danny was working on in his own time or could have nothing to do with the company at all.

Gotham wasn’t exactly the safest place as far as chemicals in the water and air went. Though Bruce had been doing what he could through his own funds, initiatives at WE, and through his connections with the mayor. At least this mayor seemed like a good one (or as good as Gotham could hope for at the moment).

Progress could be slow, which was sometimes hard to accept.

“Put the bag on the table, Red Robin,” Bruce said with a little bit of a sigh in his words. Enter

“But B come on—” Tim started with a little furrow of his brow.

Bruce crouched down a little to meet Tim’s eyes. “I understand your inclination, Red Robin, you know I do. But we have enough information to look into this without invading what little privacy he has after waking up in the situation that he just did.”

“Oh,” Tim looked down at the bag and closed the flap over. “I guess I just… hadn’t thought about it like that.”

“I know, chum,” Bruce said. He squeezed Tim’s shoulder gently. “Go put the bag on the table for him and get yourself some coffee.”

“Coffee, coffee sounds amazing,” Tim said, mostly to himself, as he went to follow orders.

Bruce stuck his hands in the sweat pants he was wearing and trailed after Tim. He’d let his kids who needed the coffee go first, but he could really use some himself to deal with this morning. He stopped by Jason where the other was leaning against the meeting table and rubbing at the edges of his domino.

“Who thought Bat paranoia would pay off with us all putting these stupid things back on after showering,” Jason grumbled.

Bruce gave a soft ‘hm’.

“You got that good cream in stock? Cause this shit is going to itch wearing these all night.”

Bruce gave a little nod. “I’ll make sure you have a tub to take with you. Thank you for staying last night to watch over the family.”

“…yeah, sure old man.”

With a brief clasp to Jason’s shoulder, Bruce stepped up for his turn to get some coffee. Contrary to the easy jokes, Bruce didn’t enjoy his coffee dark and brooding like his soul and added a decent amount of cream to his cup.

“I don’t suppose that there’s enough in the pot for me?”

To his credit, Danny Fenton didn’t flinch as multiple white lensed gazes turned towards him. There was some water dripping off his hair, landing at his bare feet next to the too long sweatpants legs. Nightwing’s pants, Bruce’s mind supplied, just based on Fenton’s build. Though oddly the sweatshirt was definitely Bruce’s and absolutely swallowed Fenton.

Fenton reached up up and pulled the collar of the sweatshirt up over his freckled and scarred shoulder.

Scarred?

“Certainly,” Bruce said and reached for a mug. “Cream? Sugar?”

“A little of both, thank you,” Fenton said. He looked to his side as Cass came up to him and let her herd him to the table with a soft huff.

The rest of the Bats made their way there. Bruce set the mug down in front of Fenton and took the open seat to his left.

“What do you remember from last night.

Fenton took a long sip of his coffee before he spoke. “I left work about eight twenty.”

“That’s pretty late,” Tim interjected.

Fenton shrug and a gave half smile. “I have a habit of losing time, much to the annoyance of my boss. He’s who sent me home. I stopped and grabbed some food before I headed through Robinson park towards the station on the other side. Normally there’s no issue, but suddenly the vines were active and there was some sort of commotion off to my left.”

Bruce glanced towards Dick who gave a slight incline of his head. The commotion must have been them.

“My phone was dead— s’why I didn’t get my alarm to leave work, so I couldn’t check out if it was anything major,” Fenton continued. “I tried to back up and get out of the park but I was pretty surrounded. I wouldn’t have been too worried, but there was this flower, big and bold red. It popped and that’s the last clear thing I remember. After that it’s just… panic? I remember the flower was bad, my lungs felt like they were burning. I had to protect someone? Someones? And then there was a level of comfort. Then I woke up here.” Fenton’s hands hand tightened around his mug as he talked until he had a white knuckled clutch on it. “I’m hoping you all can fill in a few pieces.”

“Some,” Dick said. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “Red Hood, Red Robin, and myself, Nightwing, were dealing with some criminals who were trying to bury a body in the park.”

“Really?” Fenton said incredulously. “Why did they think Posion Ivy would be okay with anyone digging in her park? Like sure, technically fertilizer, but really?”

“Right?” Dick agreed with a smile. “She was pretty unhappy. I’m assuming that’s what made the vines agitated. Sorry about that.”

Fenton gave a little shrug. “Not like you all were trying to bury a body. At least not this time?”

Jason barked out a laugh at that that Bruce’s look didn’t quell at all. He just flicked Bruce off.

“Nope,” Dick continued, undeterred, “we just stopped then and then were trying to calm Pamela— Ivy down. That’s when you showed up, except you weren’t exactly… you.”

With excellent timing as always, Tim pulled up a still from his camera onto the monitor of the bird entity. Fenton paled to an alarming degree.

“What?” he croaked.

“This bird creature— you— crashed onto the scene,” Dick said as Tim let the video play. “Don’t worry, you were nonviolent. Well, at least not to anything other than Ivy’s plants.”

On screen Fenton’s bird form was wailing on a carnivorous flower as he pulled Nightwing to safety.

“Oh Ancients,” Fenton said and buried his face in his shaking hands.

“Mostly you just collected us. Cuddle pollen causes people to need living warmth and it was obvious that you were dosed as your feathers were covered in it, which then affected all of us also.”

“Most of us. I’m smart enough to wear a fucking mask,” Jason said.

“I always thought that was smart,” Fenton said weakly as he pulled his gaze back up to the screen. “I really didn’t hurt anyone?”

“Only Robin’s pride,” Tim chirped.

Damian growled back.

“Okay. Okay that’s… that’s good. I, um… yeah, that’s new. The bird thing. That’s new,” Fenton said as he watched the video play out until Red Robin’s camera was obscured by feathers.

Bruce reached out to rest his hand across Fenton’s shoulder blades, tapping out a rhythm for him to breathe to.

Fenton sent him a shaky smile.

“Unsure about what you were, but knowing you had been affected by cuddle pollen and were… collecting my children, bringing you back to the cave seemed the best action,” Bruce explained. “As most of us were affected, it was easiest to stay close. It was unexpected to wake up to you being human.”

“Yeah, yeah I bet,” Fenton agreed. His gazed was glued to the screen again, the new now from Black Bat’s camera. “I wouldn’t have expected it either. That’s… yeah. That’s new.”

Bruce caught Cass’s attention and got a subtle assurance back. Fenton didn’t know why he had become a bird either. At least that decreased the chance of the man having been experimenting on himself.

“Do you work with chemicals at work?” Bruce asked. He would of course find this out from Lucius, but Fenton shouldn’t suspect that.

Fenton blinked at him. “What? Oh, no. Basic things, solder and acetone and the such. Nothing that should have any wild effects.” He hesitated then, chewing on his lips as his eyes flicked from Bruce to the screen where he was currently snagging Black Bat with one of the many legs. “But I was exposed to a lot of weird stuff as a kid. My parents had… poor lab safety and I really didn’t know any better. I guess that something in the flowers… reacted really badly? If there was some other triggers or something around in the air. That’s all I can think, but it had to be one hell of an environmental cocktail and not one I want to repeat.”

Bruce could believe Fenton’s aversion with the way he trembled under Bruce’s hand.

“You’ll be alright.” Danny wasn’t sure if that was a question or a statement, so he nodded and put on the best smile he could at the moment. “Well, I’m currently not a giant bird entity so I think so.”

They were tucked away in an alley close enough to home that Danny could walk it. The attempt at privacy didn’t make it any less weird to be standing there in borrowed clothing and talking to Batman who sat atop an intimidating looking motorcycle. Danny hoped it was still hellishly early enough to avoid most of the scrutiny of his neighbors.

Batman went still for a moment in a way that had Danny tilting his head before the man reached into his utility belt and handed over a black keyfob of some sort.

“It’s an emergency beacon. Twist it one-eighty and press the button for three seconds and we will have your location. If you’re exposed to something odd or fear you might shift, use it.”

“In case I’m a danger?”

“In case you need help, including if you’re irrational and need a safe space to calm down.”

Danny chewed on his lip for a moment before he held out his hand. He tried to ignore the tremor in it, even if the shaking was blatantly obvious. Batman set the fob in his hand with surprising gentleness.

“Use it if you need it.”

“Okay.” Danny took a step back. “Thanks for the ride back, even if I had to be blindfolded for it.”

“Precautions.”

Danny just shrugged. “You have a family to protect, I get it. Keep them safe.”

Batman gave a little nod and Danny took that as his chance to head out of the alleyway and quickly down the street to his apartment. He needed food and to call Sam.

No, he needed to push up that visit to see Frostbite.

---

AN: Can't believe there's 3 chapters of this silliness now. Didn't expect to get this far, but really needed something with no stress to write after the morning I had. Doing my best to hang in there. Stay delightful, darlings.

#dp x dc #birdritch #eventual Bruce/Danny

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prettyboykatsuki · 7 months ago

Text

✮ tags ; pwp, fem + afab!reader, dubcon (reader is drunk af), dirty talk, rough-ish sex, the liiiightest yan undertone. 18+

✮ a/n ; im not a kiri fucker but i . had a thought in the shower

Kirishima fucks like he has something to prove.

That part of him hasn't changed, you think. It's a bad time to be reminiscing about such a thing, especially since your brain can't think of anything other than how good it feels to have such a thick cock buried in your sore, weeping cunt.

Kirishima has stopped briefly, just to bottom out and press his navel to your sex - so your brain has a little space to think. You don't know exactly how you've ended up here after thinking about it for a long time. The alcohol is making your head feel fuzzy and your lower half is weak, might melt into Kirishima's nice king size bed if you're not careful.

An hour ago, you had come off of work and joined some friends in an izakaya. Kirishima was there too, seemingly with his own friends. You hadn't seen him since middle school, when he shorter and more negative. You had a crush on him then, back before all the hero stuff.

It was refreshing to see a boy your age obsesses over something like being a perfectly chivalrous man. You were friend though not closely, and had a dopey school girl love affair that never came of fruition. You didn't speak to him after that, weren't close enough to ask - and watched him grow into a hero through televised events and news.

He's a pro now. He was much bigger than you thought he'd be. You didn't think men could get that big, unless they played basketball or something. He was shorter than you in middle school but when you saw him again in person, he was double your height. You had to crane your neck up just to get a good look at his face. Defined jaw and rugged, boyish charm that made your cheeks warm like you hadn't grown out of being a girl.

You thought he wouldn't recognize you since he's basically famous now, but he did. Flagged you down and whisked you away for drinks and catch up time. Your friends pushed you to go, so you did. You drank and spoke about nothing in particular and Kirishima seemed so enraptured with you - you thought the alcohol had fried your brain. Thoroughly tipsy and giggly, you admitted to having a crush on him in long and unnecessary detail. That you liked him, and seem to still if this feeling is anything to go by.

You hadn't expected anything of it. But he kissed you in the corner of the bar and asked if you had anywhere to be, hauled you into a taxi when you said no and made out with you on the way home. Put his hand underneath you shirt and squeezed your waist, said something about how cute you are. Always have been.

No one seemed to think anything of it when you left. Pro-Hero's escort drunk girls all the time, but you wonder if it's normal to fuck them? You wonder if Kirishima has practice in bring home drunk girls who are too big for their boots and too needy to be anything but sincere.

He's so good at fucking you, you aren't sure you'd mind that being true. Not like this.

He didn't give you any time to adjust to what was going on, every breath had him chasing more of you like he'd run out of time if he didn't rush. He carried you inside, licked your pussy while you laid against his kitchen counter and finger fucked you until you could take all eight inches of him. Was he always this relentless? You know he was never kind, no matter how much he seems it. He was always critical and cunning, but you didn't expect him to be so ruthless.

He doesn't let you off of his cock after he gets you on it. Makes you wrap your arms around his shoulders even though you barely can because he's so big. Makes you wrap your legs around his waist and tells you to hold tight as he walks you up the stairs with his cock still twitching. The whole thing makes your eyelids burn with pleasure, your body yearning to keep him inside of you for as long as you can stay conscious which is barely when you're this wasted.

He dropped you in his bed and fucked you in missionary. You think in the span of a few hours, you've spent more of it feeling his cock throb inside of you longer than you've spent without. He's too big, and fucks mean. There's no chivalry in it, just pure primal desire behind weight and heavy thrusts that make you gasp involuntarily.

You haven't stopped cumming. You've never done that so much in a row. Your body feels nearly numb as you think on it. He's been keep you like this for so long and the alcohol is making you lightheaded. You can barely understand what he's saying except that he's loved you for so long. You wonder if that's true. Your pussy likes it though, clenches every time he groans into your neck after the headboard hits the wall with his thrusts.

He fucks you like he wants to prove something to you. You don't know what exactly. You're drunk and floaty and you can't stop cumming and you can't think of anything other than how much you want him to fuck your brains out. How much you want him to cum, so deep in your pussy you'd have to push it out to get rid of it. How much you want to cum around his cock until you get so fuckdrunk you pass out on it.

A little pleasant catching up and now you can't unfurl your spine from the way it's raised, and your toes hurt from how tight they've curled. You feel ditzy with it. Didn't know cock could make you cum so much you turn stupid and babbling. It's all you've been doing and Kirishima doesn't seem to mind it all. Just laughs at your nonsense words and kisses you with sharp teeth and fucks you.

And fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, with your knees to your ears and your eyes blurry and hazed.

"Kirisihima-kun," You gasp at him, breathless and hot.

"Eijirou," He corrects with a nip to your mouth. "We won't leave each other now. Not anymore."

He punctuates with the promise with a thrust so deep you can't do anything but agree. You wonder if all this is trying to prove his love for you, but how you could that be true? It's been years.

Another thrust makes your lower belly clench, and something squirts out of you mid thrust. You're too hazy to feel self-conscious of it and Kirishima only laughs.

You close your eyes and let him have you. Again and again and again.

#kirishima smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #writing tag #dubcon cw #aha nooo kirishima dont take advantage of me while im drunk and out of it haha nooo #<- SORRY LAMSDOFJKD

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appocalipse · 9 months ago

Note

heyy if ur taking requests could u maybe do like bestfriends steve + reader where steve, eddie, nancy and robin have to pick up reader from a party and she’s like REAL drunk and just idk super clingy w steve and doesn’t wanna not be touching him. maybe eddie, nancy and robin all make fun of him for it but they acc find it rly cute.

thank you for your request! ♥♥♥ | 2.2k words

"Stevie!"

You collide into him suddenly, nearly knocking him back a step or two with the force of your momentum; there's a smile on Steve's face when you look up at him through eyes that are more than a little hazy with inebriation. You're drunk. Probably way past drunk, if the way the world won't seem to hold still is anything to go by, but you don't care. There are other things vying for your attention—like how warm he feels against you, how safe he makes you feel, how pretty he looks from up close...

"Whoa," Steve says as you lean even further into him and loop your arms around his waist in a tight hug. "How much did you have to drink, exactly?"

He doesn't mean it in a mean way, which is why you grin up at him from where you've got your cheek pressed firmly to his chest. You can feel his heart beating under the palm of your hand now, a steady and calming rhythm that soothes something inside of you.

"Dunno," you reply, grinning stupidly when you catch sight of maybe three copies of Eddie Munson standing off to Steve's left; all of them have identical amused looks on their faces. "Might've had, like, a couple..."

Steve sighs deeply, though there's no exasperation or disappointment to be found in his expression when he tilts your face upwards to look you over properly. You just beam dopily at him, because he's so pretty right now you don't know what else to do.

"Dude," Eddie speaks up, drawing Steve's gaze away from you while your own attention goes back to pressing yourself even more snugly into him, "she is totally sloshed."

You frown, shaking your head in fervent disagreement.

"Am not!"

"Sure you aren't, sweetheart," Eddie agrees placidly, but you get the impression he doesn't really mean it.

Before you can point this out, however, the blurry shape of Robin Buckley steps forward. The room is dark with flashing strobe lights and smoky with incense and cigarette smoke, but you'd recognize her voice anywhere.

"Who let you drink this much?" Robin asks as she lifts a hand up to brush some hair back from your forehead.

It's oddly soothing and so you lean into the contact with a happy hum. Robin and the others laugh — but then again, it sounds kinder than mean, the kind of laugh that bubbles up when you find something unexpectedly endearing, and so you don't mind as much as you maybe should.

"Nobody," you mumble as you press your face into the side of Steve's neck and take a deep breath in; his scent is the same as always, earthy and warm with an underlying hint of that stupid spray he likes to use sometimes. "I'm here alone. 'Cause Steve here blew me off for you guys, but that's okay," you say, even though, to be fair, it sort of isn't true — he didn't blow you off.

"Hey," Steve starts, sounding half-indignant and half-apologetic all at once. He's got an arm around your shoulder now, supporting you and keeping you upright, which makes you want to tangle yourself up in him completely. "You didn't tell me you wanted me to come hang out with you tonight!"

You sigh mournfully against his skin, feeling wistful all of a sudden. It's true. You hadn't told him. That was partially due to the fact that you had been trying to prove to yourself that you weren't so desperately and helplessly infatuated with him that you needed his presence constantly, but that plan had obviously backfired on you spectacularly.

"No," you mutter unhappily as Steve moves the two of you towards a nearby couch. "But I missed you. Don't wanna miss you."

Nancy, Robin, and Eddie, who are watching the two of you with expressions of varying degrees of amusement, exchange looks. Steve pretends not to notice, probably because he knows he won't like what they have to say if he hears it, and instead guides you down onto the cushions next to him. "You're drunk."

"You're pretty," you reply without hesitation, even though you're very clearly changing the subject. "It's unfair, y'know?"

You hear Robin snort, followed by a quiet thud like someone's just been slapped on the arm, and you know it's her who laughed, and that it must have been Nancy who'd shut her up. You don't know where Eddie is; you're not even sure when he wandered off, to be honest. You're too focused on Steve and the way his face looks under the colorful flashing lights.

"Oh yeah?" he asks, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too widely at your comment. His eyes are bright with laughter when you meet his gaze and nod confidently. "How do I get 'unfair', exactly?"

"'S all in the face," you say matter-of-factly, your own fingers trailing down his cheek in an almost absentminded gesture. "Kinda makes it hard to think about anything else sometimes, if I'm being real here. Like, it's not really fair, 'cause then what are we supposed to talk about? Oh, oh—and then there's your hair!"

"My hair?"

Robin wheezes somewhere behind you, which would have made you giggle if you were still paying attention to the people in the room besides Steve, but you're not.

"Mmhmm," you hum, your eyes running over the soft brown locks on top of his head. "Love it. Wanna touch it all the time. Y'see, Steve? You see? This is why it's not fair at all. And, and—" you trail off here for dramatic effect, squinting at him theatrically before leaning closer with your hand cupped to the side of your mouth, as if you're about to share something private. "—the way you make my insides feel? So, so unfair. Totally your fault, buddy."

"Wha-" Steve croaks out, looking alarmed and caught off guard by your drunken confession. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh," you regain your serious tone, frowning at him in a somewhat bemused manner when he continues to gape at you. "Not 'sposed to tell you. S'not the rules."

Eddie barks out a laugh somewhere off to your left, but Steve ignores him. "Rules?"

"Yeah, 's against the rules, dummy," you say, like he should've already known that. "Gotta follow the rules! Duh. Steve."

"Yeah, Steve, duh," Robin pipes up, earning herself a glare from Steve as well as a smirk from Eddie. "Oops, sorry. Please, continue."

"Can I touch your hair? Like, please, 'cause I might die if I don't, 'kay? If that's okay. Gotta test the theory. Just a little bit, though." You can tell by his expression that he wants to laugh, and that he's also mildly worried that you've lost your mind. "Please?"

Robin, Eddie and Nancy have their hands clapped over their mouths to contain their laughter. You're too drunk to notice, but Steve narrows his eyes at them in warning. "Yes," he says. "Just—yeah, go ahead."

With a little noise of excitement, you reach out to card your fingers through his hair. He smells really good — like clean laundry and fresh pine trees — and the feel of his hair in your palm is exactly what you had imagined, though you're loathe to pull your hand away now that you've felt it.

Steve goes unnaturally still as you press your face into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, a move he should have expected but didn't, and you sigh happily when the scent of his cologne hits you full force. He's like a living, breathing, cuddly teddy bear, you think, a combination of warmth, softness, and comfort all rolled up in one gorgeous, handsome, unobtainable package.

"You're warm," you mumble, feeling like you could fall asleep right now. "So, so warm. 'S like you've got a space heater in your chest, 'n that's like, so awesome."

He blinks a few times, momentarily speechless as he tries to come to terms with the fact that you are, in fact, drunk enough to be saying whatever the hell comes to your mind. "Uh, thanks?"

"Smell nice too," you murmur, hugging him tighter to you. "Like, wow. Love your hair, like, love love."

His cheeks are burning hot now, his heart beating erratically in his chest when he notices Eddie staring at the two of you with a knowing gleam in his eye. "That's—thank you, but, hey, come on now," Steve says, his voice faltering a little. "Let's get you home, okay?"

"I don't wanna."

"Don't you wanna sleep in your bed?"

You pause, considering his words, and eventually concede that, yes, your bed does sound lovely right about now, so you give him a brief nod in response. "I guess, but can you come too?"

He chokes on air, but manages to play it off by clearing his throat. "What—to your bed? No!"

"Why not?"

Steve shifts a little under your intense, alcohol-addled scrutiny; he feels strangely guilty, as though he's letting you down by saying no. "Because you're drunk?" he says, feeling flustered and unreasonably nervous all of a sudden.

You scrunch up your face in a pout. "Oh, that's a dumb reason."

Steve chuckles and you sigh happily again, because you love his laugh and everything else about him, and he seems to realize this, given the way his expression softens. "Come on, you drunkard. Let's go home," he says gently, tugging on your arm in an attempt to get you to stand.

You resist at first, shaking your head stubbornly as you hold onto him. "Can't. My legs don't work anymore. They're all wobbly."

Steve closes his eyes for a moment, huffs out a soft laugh, and you can't help but grin up at him. He's so pretty that, like, how is that even allowed? How can you be around him and not spontaneously combust or something?

"Well, what if I carried you?"

"Like a princess?"

Steve looks at you with an expression you can't decipher — it's halfway between incredulous and endeared, and it makes your heart feel too big for your rib cage.

"How romantic," Nancy observes.

"So long as she doesn't throw up on him," Eddie adds, nodding sagely in agreement.

"Oh, I hope she does," Robin says, with a devious smile, "he'd deserve it for being such a coward."

"I'm...right here, guys, and I can still hear you." Steve finally says, throwing them a scathing look that only makes them laugh. "If you're not going to be helpful, you can wait in the car."

"As if," Eddie counters.

Steve opens his mouth to tell him where exactly he can stick his opinions, when you grab the front of his shirt and drag him closer.

"Steve," you say, the smile falling from your face as a sudden thought occurs to you. "Are you mad at me? Because I can go home by myself. That's okay."

"Hey, no," he replies softly, "I'm not mad at you, sweetheart. Not ever."

"'Sweetheart'? Really?" Eddie mutters to Nancy, who elbows him in the ribs when he doesn't lower his voice in time. "Ow, okay, okay—just saying. Don't want them to keep dancing around each other forever, is all."

"I'm not dancing," you tell him, completely unaware of Eddie's snickering, "I don't have any shoes on, Eddie. Wouldn't be able to dance without shoes on. Silly."

"My bad," Eddie says, his lips twitching with badly concealed laughter, "forgive me."

Steve scowls at him before turning his attention back to you, his face so close to yours that you can momentarily feel the tickle of his breath against your skin. "Okay, come on," he says, "up we go."

And then, in one swift movement, he slides his arm under your knees and scoops you up into his arms. You let out a squeak of surprise and automatically wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself.

"Oh, oh, oh," you say excitedly, "you really are gonna carry me."

"Told you so." Steve adjusts his grip on you and makes his way towards the exit. "Are you good? Am I hurting you?"

You shake your head slowly, grinning as you stare at him from a whole new angle. "No," you tell him, feeling much more awake than you were moments before. "This is...this is like, actually kinda cool."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you repeat, smiling shyly back at him. "Feel like a real life Cinderella now. Whoa, you're, like, super strong."

"Yeah, Stevie, you're 'super strong.'" Eddie teases, waggling his eyebrows when Steve sends him a quick glare. "Aw, don't look at me like that. It's cute. The two of you."

Nancy doesn't tease like Robin and Eddie do. She walks behind Steve, making sure to stay a couple steps behind to give the two of you some privacy. Even so, when you look over your shoulder to make sure nobody's listening, she gives you a wink and a small thumbs-up that makes you smile.

The parking lot is filled with teenagers all wandering aimlessly in groups, so it takes Steve a while to navigate his way through the crowd. By the time he finds the spot where he parked his BMW, you've grown drowsy enough to rest your head on his shoulder.

Eddie immediately pops open the door to the backseat, slapping it a few times as he looks over at Steve and grins. "Hurry it up, lover boy," he drawls out, "she looks half-asleep already."

"She's fine," Steve shoots back, frowning in annoyance when Eddie and Robin both pretend to yawn exaggeratedly, "shut up. I hate you guys."

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kamiversee · 6 months ago

Text

˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

4 | be true.

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | language, oral sex (f!recieving), dirty talk, mild filth, pet names, sexual tension, etc.

❧ Word Count | 6.1k

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——Upstairs, your back was meeting a wall as soon as you and Gojo were out of anyone’s line of sight. Lips crashing into yours, an eager set of hands latched to your waist, and a large body pressing into yours, Gojo was all over you within seconds. You could hardly process what was going on with how fast he was moving.

His lips were on yours one moment and then your neck the next moment– sucking, licking, kissing, and even nipping at your skin like he simply couldn’t get enough of you. Gojo had his hands touching every inch of your body from your waist to your thighs, squeezing and gripping onto the fabric of your dress that stood between him and your soft skin.

Maybe it was the fact that he finally had you to himself for a moment or maybe it was the way you sounded as he touched you but either way, he was hungry for you. “Fuck,” Gojo practically seers into your skin, his breath hot as it trickled down along your neck.

Then there was the way you were reciprocating his eagerness, your arms all around his neck, gripping onto him and tugging him closer as if his body wasn’t already sandwiched against yours. You’d slide a hand up into his hair and grip onto him as he worked a careless hickey onto the side of your neck and he’d groan against you.

Everything about you was so damn intoxicating– from the way you smelt to the way you felt, Gojo just wanted more and more and more of you. Simply kissing you and marking you up like this was never going to be enough, he’d lose his damn mind at the rate this was going. Which is exactly why he’s crouching down a bit just to grab ahold of your thighs and lift you up, your legs wrapped around his waist as your body slides up against the wall.

At that point, Gojo’s hips grind forward and you moan far louder than you mean to at the way his hard cock presses against you through the layers of clothing.

“S-Shit, you’re so-,” You couldn’t even get the words out before he was lifting from your neck and crashing his lips into yours yet again, nodding his head to acknowledge your unfinished statement and letting out a grunt as he rolled his hips forward.

Hell, he had half a mind to fuck you right then and there against the wall in the middle of the hallway, despite his bedroom being just a few steps away. And he might’ve actually done that if not for the sound of his mother’s voice coming from the stairs. She sounded as though she were making her way up and Gojo pried himself away from your lips with a huff.

“Fuck.” He curses, rolling his eyes before glancing over to the stairway. Gojo takes a moment to think before he’s looking at you again, watching the way you’re panting and catching that lustful little look in your eyes.

Yeah, he wasn’t about to let his parents stop him from getting something-, anything from you by the end of the night… even if it was a little risky. So, with that thought, he holds onto the underside of your thighs a bit tighter before carrying you away and rushing toward his room.

He’s pretty sure he heard someone, most likely his mother, call his name from somewhere down the hall just as he kicked his bedroom door shut but he’s all too wrapped up in you to care.

So when your back hits his mattress and his lips collide with yours again, you’re far too dazed to care about anything aside that’s not Gojo Satoru. His lips are wet against yours, tongue slipping and slotting so perfectly into your mouth while he rolls his hips down into your clothed cunt yet again– groaning into your mouth due to how hard he is.

Gojo eventually pulls away from your lips and a loud and wet smack echoes into the air. He’s panting, you’re panting– both of you sound as though you just ran a damn marathon and all you’ve done was make out with each other. As your eyes meet him, you notice how starved he looks.

“Satoru,” You utter in a small little whisper, to which he starts to sit back on his heels and reach for his tie.

Cocking his head to the side, Gojo raises a brow at you, “Hm? What? Y’need me?” His voice is so husking and aroused that it alone makes you want to squeeze your legs together.

You gulp, “Uhuh…”

The slightest smirk pulls at the corner of his lips just as his tie is tugged completely off and tossed to the side. Narrowed blue eyes never leaving yours, Gojo sighs, “Where?”

Your lashes bat up at the man almost in disbelief. Such a question had a very obvious answer to it and yet he wanted you to be vocal about it. You don’t think you’ve felt this shy in the face of someone in a long time. So much so that all you could do was start trailing your hand down along your body.

Almost in slow motion, Gojo’s eyes are steady to leave yours and follow your hand, smiling at your lack of words to him. A little scoff escapes him and just as your hand reaches riiight past your abdomen, he grabs ahold of it and lifts it to his face, planting a light kiss on your palm.

“I asked you a question, pretty girl,” Gojo whispers all too gently, “I want you to tell me where, not show me.”

You end up pouting ever so slightly and his cock twitches. “You know where, Satoru…” You utter to the man.

He nods, “Mhm, I do. But I want you to say it. Tell me where you need me,” As he talks, he’s releasing your hand and reaching down along your leg, steadily working your heels off of your feet and maintaining eye contact with you. “You want me to make you cum, don’t you?”

Your throat is so unbelievably dry right now that it’s almost embarrassing, “Y-Yeah…” With another gulp, you try to sound as confident as you can but your voice still comes out small, “I want you to-”

He’s cutting you off all over again, your shoes tossed elsewhere just as his tie was before he hovers his body over yours again. A finger is placed to your chin and he forces you to keep looking up at him, “Speak up,” Gojo orders, “I wanna hear you loud ‘nd clear, sweetheart. What do you want me to do?”

“Anything,” You practically breathe the word out, desperation dripping off your tone just as you were dripping between your thighs.

Gojo raises a brow, “Anything?”

“M-Mhm,” You couldn’t think straight enough to voice your needs by this point.

As such, he stares at you for a few more seconds, teasing you by looking back and forth between your lips and then your eyes before he cracks a lazy grin. Then Gojo’s leaning down to you again, gently pushing his lips into yours one last time.

After which he slides over and down to your jawline, peppering your skin with wet and warm kisses. Then it’s under your jaw, then your collarbone, and then his hands are exploring you again. His fingertips are light against you while he moves to the straps of your dress, carefully slipping them down your shoulders. His fingers then find their way under you just to unzip your dress and you swear he’s moving slowly on purpose.

Gojo kisses down along the center of your throat as your dress is unzipped and you help him to get the item off of you completely. To which he practically loses any sense of slowness once his eyes are met with more of your skin. Lips are all over you in seconds, opened-mouthed kisses pressed into every inch of you whilst he relishes in your soft little gasps and the way you squirm once he starts kissing your stomach.

The lower he gets, the more eager you become– parting your legs further for him and reaching your hands behind you to unclasp your bra. Gojo had his eyes closed for a moment but they snapped open once your bra was removed and his lips were wrapping around your nipple without second thought.

His free hand gropes your not-so-forgotten breast and he sucks hard at your sensitive bud, listening closely for that small whine leaving your lips. Oh if you weren’t every bit of perfection then he doesn’t know what is. Gojo can’t even think about himself when you’re like this underneath him.

All that he can process right now is making you feel good and having you moan his name as soon as possible. Which is why his hand eventually leaves your tits and trails down, fingers dancing over the fabric of your panties just to tease you with a firm press against your cunt.

“‘Toru,” You gasp and so badly did you want to snap your legs shut but he was positioned right in between them so that surely wasn’t happening.

Gojo pops off of your, now saliva-coated, nipple and flashes a smile at you, “‘Toru, huh?” He teases, his finger pressing more firmly in between your folds and against the fabric as your slick seeps through and coats his fingers, “Yeah, keep callin’ me that, pretty girl.”

He feels the way you immediately twitch against his fingertips and he can’t help but see just how worked up he can get you from his words alone, “What? Y’like that, huh? Like it when I call you pretty?”

You let out a small hum, “M-Mhm…”

Gojo starts feeling around with that finger of his, slipping against your folds and wetting up his finger with a small smile on his face, “Y’like it when I talk to you too apparently…” He comments before glancing down at his hand to see the way your hips keep lifting ever so slightly, “Hah, didn’t know my voice would make you throb this much.”

“Shut up,” You gasp and he rubs over your cunt in small maddening little circles

“Why? You’re wettin’ up my fingers ‘nd I’m barely even touchin’ you but you want me to shut up?” Gojo scoffs at you, “C’mon, baby, admit it,” His smile only grows the more you pout and furrow your brows at him, “You like my voice.”

You let out a little groan, “Satoru…”

Gojo simply stares at you, raising his brows ever so slightly as if to test you, “I’m not gonna do anything ‘til you admit it, pretty girl.”

“Okay, yes,” You sigh as you reach a hand down to his and try to guide him further against you, “I like your voice.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, glancing down at your poor attempt at forcing his fingers to move beneath the fabric of your panties.

Nodding, “Uhuh,” You mumble out, both of you meeting each other’s gaze at the same time.

He looks so enamored by you and how every little touch earns a cute reaction from you, “What else do you like about me?”

“I like your fingers,” You utter softly.

Gojo quirks a brow, “Do you?”

“Mhm,” You start nodding and a small smile grows on your face, “You should put ‘em to use instead of teasin’ me s’much.”

He nearly groans at your words alone but manages to swallow it down. Instead, Gojo tilts his head and chastises you with that damn grin of his, “Ohh, she remembered how to talk, I see.”

Your eyes roll in the slightest bit of annoyance, “Satoru, please.”

“Please what?” His hand starts to retract from your body and you think you let out a whine, “Use your words ‘nd be specific, c’mon.” Gojo says.

Huffing an all too impatient, “Touch me,” He gulps at the sound of your voice already as breathy as ever.

“Touch you?” He echoes, eyes searching your face for something. You just nod and he smirks again, finally slipping his hand under your panties and quickly finding your clit with his fingertips. “Like this?” Gojo hushes out to you.

“Fuck, y-yes…” You’re stammering already, a fuzzy sensation of pleasure shooting throughout your body at his raw touch against you, “Like that.”

“Mmh,” He hums as if to mock you, his fingers rubbing such careful circles over your clit, “Couple’ kisses got you this wet?” He asks.

You let out a sigh, “You know it was more than the kisses.”

His eyes are all over your expression as he eases his finger further down, slipping one into your hole and watching the way your breath hitches. “Was it?” Gojo whispers with his breath tickling the side of your face.

He’s so close to you that it’s hard not to be hyper-aware of every sensation he brings you. That single finger of his is steady to work a slow pace in and out of your pussy whilst he takes note of every furrow of your brow and each breath he steals from you.

Gojo soon murmurs out your name and he feels your cunt twitch around his finger, faint slick sounds hitting both of your ears as he fingers you, “You’ve been drivin’ me crazy all day,” He grunts near your ear, “Haven’t stop thinkin’ about you for even a second, y’know.”

You nearly crack a smile at that, “T-Thinkin’ about me or… hah, or this?” Your voice is a bit breathier than you would’ve preferred as his fingertip presses firmly into your g-spot.

“Am I allowed to say both?” Gojo hums. His voice is so soft with you now— obviously aroused, but soft nonetheless.

That is, until he drags his finger out of you and brings it to his lips. Popping his digit into his mouth, Gojo sucks the taste of you off of his skin and releases a satisfied hum.

Nearly moaning, he pushes himself up and you watch as he seamlessly repositions himself in between your legs with his eyes glued to your cunt twitching behind the fabric of your panties. You were so soaked and breathless that he simply couldn’t get enough of you.

“Both might be a lie,” He hums lowly, “I’ve definitely had this,” His chin nods toward your sex and you watch his hands shift to tug your panties off, “On my mind like crazy…” Hell, he was practically drooling as the fabric was peeled away from your sex.

With not another moment spared and giving you no time to reply to that, a fat wad of spit is shot to your pussy in such a messy manner that it has you flinching in surprise. Your eyes widen slightly as you peer down at the starved Gojo whose gaze is stuck in mere awe of your sloppy cunt.

He doesn’t know if it was the way he just spit on you or simply you being so damn wet but your pussy was practically dripping all over the place. So much so that Gojo was drooling within seconds, flicking his eyes up to you purposefully as he pushes his lips forward and latches them onto your cunt. His tongue is quick to follow but you think it’s the intensity of his eye contact that has you gasping.

A sharp pair of blue eyes narrow at your pleased expression whilst Gojo seamlessly puts his mouth to work. For once, he wasn’t being slow and teasing you to the brink of insanity— instead, his lips were parting over your cunt and he was sucking your sweet taste into his mouth.

Groaning at the flavor-, the taste of you and the way you sound moaning ever so softly, Gojo swore that he’d found heaven just now. He struggled not to have his eyes roll to the back of his head once his tongue began to lap every drop of you up, slicking all in between your wet folds and devouring you like you were his final meal.

And he’s such a messy eater too, widening how far open his mouth is just to bury his tongue inches deep into you and draw every candied drop of your taste out. He’s practically moaning into your pussy after the first two minutes, barely pulling away to breathe and muttering filthy nothings into you.

“S-So fuckin’… mmh, sweet,” Gojo’s words were slurring together, his eyes dazed and his lips slipping against you as he grumbled into you, “Could’-, agh… Could’ eat this pussy all damn day…” There’s drool slipping from the corner of his mouth, or perhaps it was your slick but either way, the bottom half of his face is practically glistening.

Gojo’s quick to dive right back in, your hand gripping onto his hair for dear life as you release soft moans and your hips buck up into his mouth. His larger hands meet your hips and it was almost as if he were helping your hips up against his lips, craving for more and more of your taste. He’s gulping your wetness down, lapping his tongue so messily against your cunt that it has your body twitching, and groaning so very shamelessly that it makes you all the more wet for him.

“S-, hah… Satoru,” You pant, toes curling with how skillful his tongue worked against you.

The man would’ve lost himself if not for that soft call of his name. He lifts his mouth but his fingers are quick to make up for it, two long and thick digits slipping deep into your pussy with one filthy squelch as he cocks his head to the side.

He was so stupidly handsome, even right now as half of his face drips in you and your slick. Hair all dishielved with your hand loosely lost within it, his pretty rose-tinted lips parted as soft pants left his throat, beautiful blue eyes almost doe-like whilst he made eye-contact with you all over again, and his voice as husky as ever once he finally spoke to you again, “Pullin’ me away already, sweets?” Gojo taunts.

And you swear you hate the way he smirks oh so lazily, his fingers curling into that sappy sweet spot inside you and ripping a moan from you.

“Didn’t even make you cum yet, c’mon,” He continues with his taunting.

You’d have rolled your eyes at him in annoyance if it weren’t for the way he starts finger fucking you better than you ever have yourself— drawing his digits back and back until his fingertips are grazing your puffy folds just to thrust them back in deep and fast, working up such a rude pace against your walls. You had his skin glistening, slick dripping all over his hand, down to his wrist, then the bed. It was a complete mess— you were a complete mess.

And god if he didn’t love every second of it. Hearing you gasp out, “S-Shit, ‘Toru… hah, fuck.. I…” He knows you have no intentions of finishing that statement of yours but it was cute watching you try to talk to him.

Gojo’s smirk merely widens, “Mhm, I know, I know, feels good, huh?” He coos, feeling your cunt clench around his fingers and letting him know the effect his words have on you. “Y’like that?” He teases further.

Then your legs started to try closing on him and he swears his cock twitches like crazy at your little attempt. He could only imagine what it’d be like to actually fuck you, picturing his dick stuffed perfectly inside your snug cunt, watching you take every inch and telling you how fucking good you feel— praising you for taking him so well, urging you to moan louder for him regardless of the not-so-forgot party downstairs.

So lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t realize how fast his fingers are dipping in and out of your pussy until your moans grow lighter and you start trying to push his hand away.

Gojo shifts, moving his free hand to your leg to keep you spread open for him as he hovers most of his body over yours. His fingers rub against your gummy walls with vigor as his face nears yours.

“Satoru,” You call out all too breathlessly.

He tilts his head at you and mushes his fingertips against your g-spot just to watch your eyes flicker back, “Uhuh… You close?” He murmurs to you, “Gonna make a mess on my fingers, pretty girl? C’mon, show me how filthy this pussy can get f’me.”

You nearly groan as you try to stop the whine leaving your wet lips, “S-Shut up… Fuck,” Your eyes dart away from his.

He was too close to your face, taking in your every slight change in expression all because he wanted to remember what you looked like cumming on his fingers. Leaning down, Gojo’s lips brush over your ear and his fingers increase in pace— the veins on his hand popping out with how fast his fingers are moving, “Do I have to beg you for it? Hm?” He whispers into the shell of your ear.

You shudder a bit before your back starts arching up off of the bed, you were so fucking close, “W-What?”

“Y’wanna hear me say please?” He continues talking with this soft tone in your ear, “Please cum f’me, make a mess on my fuckin’ fingers, baby. Give it t’me. I need it,” His last statement comes out in a low groan and you were right there.

Core tensing, legs twitching, whispers of his name leaving your lips— all to be interrupted by a knock on his bedroom door. Almost as if this was expected, Gojo’s quick to move his hand from your leg and to your mouth, muffling that final filthy cry of his name as you cum all over his fingers.

Despite the knock, his digits continue and he glances at his bedroom door, answering in a breathless, “Yeah?”

“Satoru, there are people downstairs looking for you,” The sound of his mother’s voice makes you so unbelievably paranoid.

You’re pretty sure the door wasn’t locked and she could just burst in and find the two of you like this at any given moment. Gojo doesn’t seem the slightest bit worried though, looking at you with a smug smirk as his fingers continue inside you and you whimper against his palm.

“Bit’ busy right now,” Gojo scoffs in response, his eyes wandering over to the door just to see the shadow below shift a little, “I’ll be down soon.”

“Busy with what?” His mother huffs back in response, the sound of the doorknob being touched causing your heart to pound in your chest.

Your eyes widen and you send Gojo a frantic look, to which his smirk only widens further as he curls his finger deeper into you and his palm presses against your lips harder to thoroughly muffle the cry of pleasure you let out. “I’m uh,” He clicked his tongue as he glanced at you, “Takin’ care of somethin’, I’ll be down in a bit.”

The sound of his mom scoffing could be heard and Gojo merely leans down to your ear. He starts whispering things to you and you end up missing whatever scolding words his mother was huffing out from the other side of his bedroom door.

“This is kinda’ exciting, no?” Gojo hushes out to you, making your brows furrow in frustration.

Oh he was so very cruel, driving his lengthy fingers in and out and in and out, so skillfully, so sinfully, so damn pleasureful. Hell, you don’t even think you’ve ever fingered yourself this damn good. He has you gasping against his palm, one of your hands shaky as you grip onto one of his wrists. Your eyes were all teary and his low voice in your ear wasn’t making the situation any better.

Gojo sighs, “I wonder what she’d think if she walked in on us like this,” He says casually, taking a pause to hear his mother still ranting about how important this event is for his family.

You let off a whine of his name as you feel yet another orgasm building up, your legs trembling slightly.

“Shh, shh, don’t be too loud, pretty girl,” Gojo murmurs into your ears as his fingers slow down ever so slightly, caressing the depths of your cunt and coaxing that orgasm out of you, “You wouldn’t wan’ her t’hear how much of a slut you’re bein’ right now, would ya’?”

You groan at his degrading yours and he feels the way you pout against his hand.

“Satoru!” His mother shouts slightly and you can hear the doorknob beginning to turn followed by a knock on the door.

He’s still smirking though, as if he knows something you don’t. “Hurry up ‘nd cum f’me before she walks in,” Gojo sighs, fingertips prodding against your g-spot as your slick messes up nearly the entirety of his hand.

Then, he starts moving his hand away from your lips and you whine his name immediately, “S-Satoru.. hahh…”

Gojo moves so that he can meet your gaze, his eyes as intimate as ever with you, “C’mon, give it t’me. Jus’ one more.”

His mom could be heard banging on the door a bit and your heart was in a damn frenzy at this point. Too dazed to wonder why the hell she hadn’t just burst into the room yet and too fucked out to fathom the possibility that Gojo had locked the door. All you could process was Gojo’s blue eyes on yours and his fingers dipping in and out of your pussy.

Then he’s pressing kisses to your jawline, sucking softly against your skin and every sensation simply builds up at once. You’re stuttering his name out as you come undone for yet another time, hearing him praise you as he strokes you through it and completely ignores his mom.

“Uhuh, that’s it,” Gojo whispers, kissing the side of your neck, “Good girl.” He practically purrs, driving you all the way off the edge.

“‘T-Toru, you… hah… y-your-,” You get cut off by him shushing you again before he draws his digits out of your sloppy hole.

Gojo sits back on his heels and almost expectantly brings his fingers to his mouth, moaning as he sucks your taste off of his skin. “Yeah, yeah, I know, my mom. She’ll be alright, don’t worry about her.” He sighs.

You merely shut your eyes at that, moving to close your legs and relax yourself on his bed as you collect your breath. “Fuck,” You sigh after a second or two, “Y-You’re crazy.”

“Am I?” He teases, smirking as he slips off of the bed and attempts to recollect his disheveled state. You try to move and do the same thing but he puts a hand up, “You don’t have to move yet, y’know. I’ll go handle my mom really quickly and come back to you.”

Your eyes widen slightly, “Come back to me to do what? Finish where we left off?”

He shakes his head, “Nah, we’re done for the night. I wouldn’t be able to fuck you properly without bein’ interrupted.”

You blink, “But-“

“No buts,” He sighs, backing away toward the door, “I’m gonna handle my mom, come back and make sure you’re good, and thenn… we can uh, get back to the party or something.”

It was almost as if he had this all planned out. Was this really all he wanted to do tonight? Not that you’re complaining but, you were kind of looking forward to him actually fucking you.

Instead of saying anything to him though, you simply nod and he flashes you a brief smile. Then, he waits for you to pull a cover over yourself before he opens the door and steps out to talk to his mom.

As you’re left there for a while, you just wonder if he really did have this all planned beforehand. Would he have fucked you if his mom didn’t interrupt or was his goal to only give you pleasure from the beginning? Maybe you’re overthinking it a bit too much but it did seem odd. He had no problem fingering you with his mother on the other side of the door so what would be so different if his cock was inside you?

You sigh— maybe you’re just being needy. It’s not like he didn’t get you off, he focused on you for the night and there should be nothing wrong with that. Maybe you’re the problem right now because you’re definitely still aching for more. Or hell, maybe you’re just eager to get dicked down.

You know Gojo’s is big too, you felt it so prominently against you. You nearly let out a dreamy sigh as you replay that feeling of him grinding down against you, picturing what it’d be like if he was grinding his cock into you instead. How he’d probably have your legs pressed up against your chest, fucking you deep and hard while staring right into your eyes, telling you how pretty you are as he-

“Okay, now that that’s handled,” The sound of Gojo’s voice makes you jump out of your daze and your lashes flutter as you glance around the room until you spot him. “Let’s get you all cleaned up, yeah?”

He walks over to the bed and swipes your dress up off of the floor as he makes his way toward you, quick to hold the item out for you once he’s approached the side of the bed.

You slowly sit up and take it from him, the two of you making brief eye contact before you look away.

He laughs at you before watching as you get yourself dressed, reaching a hand out to help you every now and then. Once you’re all dressed, he makes sure you look presentable and you do the same for him, fixing his hair up a bit whilst he stares at you as if he has hearts in his eyes.

When the two of you are done, you leave his bedroom together like nothing ever happened. A stop is made to the nearest bathroom to further freshen yourselves up but afterward, you two make it downstairs and back to the party like it was nothing.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

If there was one thing you liked about Gojo, it was his ability to act so casually about nearly everything. How he could go from making you moan his name to laughing in front of elders at some joke that really wasn’t all that funny. It was so intriguing to you, especially since the rest of the night with him went by so smoothly.

The most he’d tease you with is a glance or two, sending you a wink every now and then or a little smirk, especially if he caught you stumbling in your steps— even if that had nothing to do with his actions and you had clearly tripped over something.

As such, your night with Gojo eventually comes to an end and he’s driving you to your apartment. It truly was as if nothing had even happened and you kinda liked that. Even though deep down inside you wanted more. Lord knows if Choso wasn’t home you would’ve dragged Gojo inside your apartment and probably begged him to f-

“This is you, right?” Like earlier, the sound of Gojo’s voice brings you out of your dirty thoughts and you blink back into reality, glancing at your apartment door and nodding in response to his question.

“Y-Yeah, yes,” You stammer, “This is me.”

Gojo lets out a hum before he looks you up and down, taking note of how often your attention seems to drift away from the present. He starts wondering what it is you could possibly be thinking about so much but he shrugs his questions away, “Alright well,” He tilts his head, “I’ll call you when I get home.”

You turn to look up at him, “Drive safe.”

There’s another little moment between the two of you, lots of eye contact, little words spoken, and fuzzy feelings floating around. Both of you open your mouths to say something at the same time but you get cut off by your apartment door swinging open.

You jump in surprise and Gojo plainly glances over, both of you looking at Choso whose face is as expressionless as ever. An awkward pause passes before Choso scoffs, “Are you two gonna jus’ stare at me all fuckin’ night, or are you,” He looks directly at you, “Gonna come inside?”

You let out a sigh and gently touch Gojo’s arm, “Shut up,” You huff out to your best friend and then glance to Gojo one last time, “Night’ Satoru.”

He’s quick to look at you and smile, “Night’ sweetheart.”

The sound of Choso obnoxiously gagging in disgust can be heard but both you and Gojo ignore him. Then, you pull away from Gojo, send Choso a glare, and brush past him to enter your apartment. Because of the way you brush past your best friend and don’t catch how both men watch you enter the apartment, their eyes raking all over your back profile.

Up until you’re out of sight and Choso turns back to Gojo. The two practically glare at one another before the corner of Choso’s lips twitch and he makes this mocking expression, backing away into the apartment with a look that says he knows something Gojo doesn’t. Gojo’s brows furrow before Choso shoots his middle finger up at him and slams the door in his face.

Gojo stands there for a second, simply baffled by whatever that was Choso just did. Was that look supposed to mean something? Was he implying something? Gojo doesn’t know why but the whole thing ticks him off a bit as he scoffs and walks off.

Meanwhile, Choso shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweats as he locks the door and turns in search of where you’ve gone. He soon spots you in the kitchen and walks to the counter just to lean against it and silently watches you up until you glance back and scrunch your face up at him.

“Are you gonna stare at me all fuckin’ night?” You huff out, mocking his words from earlier.

Choso smirks, “Lookin’ at you gives me a headache so, no.”

“Oh fuck you-“

“How’d things go?” He cuts off, gesturing back to the front door, “Did he fuck you to tears like you wanted?”

You shrug a bit and turn to the fridge, “Yes and no.” Choso stares at the back of your head and you chuckle, “He fingerfucked me and gave me head though.”

Those words cause Choso’s eyebrows to raise in slight surprise, “Yeah? How was it?”

You’re searching in the fridge for something to snack on as you answer him, “It was great, he was great. I-“

“How many times did he make you cum?” Choso’s sudden question makes the gears in your head freeze along with the rest of your body. After your little pause, your brows push together and you slowly turn around just to see him still leaning forward against the counter, scrolling mindlessly through his phone as if he didn’t ask you anything strange.

And technically speaking, he really didn’t. You’re both adults, you’ve had these kinds of conversations before. Though, it still felt a bit different for some odd reason.

“Uhm, twice but we were interrupted so,” You shrug again and Choso hums to acknowledge your answer.

Then, just before you look away from him, his eyes flick up from his phone to you and he speaks so nonchalantly that it has your face getting all hot, “That’s it?”

Okay, yeah, Choso’s had you flustered before but you’re unsure what it was about those two little words that made you so-

“Coulda’ came a lot more if you asked me for some head, y’know,” Choso continues, eyes dead set on yours and his face void of anything remotely playful.

“I-,” You chuckle nervously, “What?”

When did the room grow so tense? And why does it look and sound like Choso’s not joking at all? It’s not his first time suggesting those kinds of things, of course, but still. The two of you continue to stare at each other for a long moment before Choso lets out a heavy sigh.

He shuts his phone off and pockets it before standing up straight and tipping his head to the side.

Then, Choso shrugs, “Jus’ sayin’…” He murmurs as he steps around the counter and nears you, “If you wanted someone to eat you out so badly, you could’ve come to me,” You gulp as he soon comes to a stop right in front of you and you swear your heart skips a beat at his next statement, “My tongue works.”

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pastryfication · 3 months ago

Note

hi! If you are still taking requests would you please write a Oscar x reader where the reader starts being besties with Hattie and Oscar is half panicking bc they are now both making fun of him bc Hattie tells the reader so many embarrassing moments in his life

MONACO MAYHEM, oscar piastri

oscar piastri x fem!reader

becoming best friends with hattie piastri was perhaps one of the best things that ever happened to you.

it wasn’t something you had planned, but it happened almost instantly and so naturally that it felt like you were actually soulmates.

oscar had just invited you to meet his family during a visit to australia, and you were incredibly nervous at first—meeting the family of your boyfriend felt like a big deal!

but hattie had made everything easy. as soon as you two started chatting, you clicked. it wasn’t long before you were in deep conversation, laughing at her endless stories, many of which revolved around oscar’s childhood blunders. by the end of the trip, you’d exchanged numbers, and from then on, your texts became a daily thing. hattie’s constant updates were often filled with the most embarrassing and ridiculous moments of oscar’s life, which you gleefully stored in your memory bank.

oscar, however, wasn’t exactly thrilled with this new friendship—especially when he became the main subject of your conversations. now that you and hattie had teamed up, he was completely outnumbered.

one morning, when you were curled up on the couch in the monaco apartment you shared with oscar, lazily scrolling through your phone, you received yet another message from hattie.

hattie: did i ever tell you about the time oscar made a homemade 'racing simulator' out of a lawn chair and bicycle handles? he claimed he was training for the future . . . except he was like 5.

you burst out laughing, barely able to contain yourself. oscar, who was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, sorting through some papers, looked up in alarm.

“what happened?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at you. his voice was tinged with that familiar suspicion—he knew that laugh too well by now.

you tried to bite back a grin, quickly locking your phone screen. “nothing. just . . . hattie being hattie, you know.”

“which means she’s telling you more stories about me,” oscar muttered, already dreading whatever had made you laugh. “what is it this time? my high school haircut? the time i crashed my bike in front of the neighbors?”

you shook your head, barely able to keep your laughter in. “no, not quite. it’s . . . something about a ‘homemade racing simulator’. a lawn chair? bicycle handles?”

oscar’s face immediately flushed a cute pink. “oh god, not that story.”

you grinned, enjoying his embarrassment way more than you should have. “i mean, it sounds pretty impressive. five-year-old oscar was ahead of his time, huh?”

he buried his face in his hands, groaning. “i’m going to kill hattie.”

“oh, come on! it’s cute,” you teased, scooting over to sit beside him. “i love hearing about little oscar and his racing dreams.”

“you love hearing about my embarrassing moments,” he corrected, glancing at you with narrowed eyes.

“true,” you admitted, leaning over to kiss his cheek softly. “but it’s all in good fun. besides, it just proves that you’ve always been destined for racing greatness—even if you started off with bicycle handles and a lawn chair.” you stifle a giggle by burrowing your face in his shoulder.

oscar sighed, shaking his head. “remind me again why i introduced you to my sisters?”

“because you love me,” you said sweetly, wrapping your arms around him from behind. “and because you secretly love how well i get along with hattie.”

“yeah, but i didn’t expect you two to team up against me,” he muttered, resting his head back against your shoulder.

“we’re not against you,” you teased, kissing the top of his head. “we’re just . . . having a little fun.”

oscar rolled his eyes, trying to keep his irritated demeanour, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “yeah, sure. that’s what it is.”

just then, your phone buzzed again. another message from hattie.

hattie: hey, so i’ve been thinking . . . how about me, edie and mae come visit you guys in monaco next month? i’ve been dying to see what oscar’s life is like over there.

you grinned, already excited at the idea of oscar’s sisters coming to visit. hattie had mentioned visiting monaco before, but this was the first time she’d included edie and mae in the plan. you quickly typed a response.

you: yes! please come! we’ll be thrilled to have you!!

oscar noticed the gleam in your eye and immediately sat up. “what’s going on now?”

you turned to him, trying to keep your expression innocent. “oh, just hattie asking if she, edie and mae can come visit next month.”

his eyes widened in what could only be described as mild panic. “all three of them? here? in monaco?”

“yep,” you said, stifling a laugh. “she wants to see where you live and get the full experience. plus, you’ll get to be the perfect tour guide.”

oscar groaned, leaning back against the couch dramatically. “so i’m going to have my girlfriend and my three sisters all in one place, ganging up on me?”

“sounds like a good time to me,” you said cheerfully, nudging him. “don’t act like you’re not excited.”

“i’m not excited,” oscar grumbled, though you could see the slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “this is going to be a disaster.”

the weeks leading up to his sisters’ visit flew by, and before you knew it, the monaco apartment was buzzing with excitement. oscar, despite his initial grumbling, was secretly thrilled to have his sisters visit—though he wouldn’t admit it outright.

“do you think they’ll like it here?” oscar asked nervously as he placed snacks on the kitchen counter. “i mean, it’s . . . different from home.”

“are you kidding?” you replied, giving him a reassuring smile. “they’re going to love it! monaco’s gorgeous, and they get to spend time with their favorite brother.”

“yeah, but they’re mostly here to spend time with you,” he said, half-joking, half-serious.

“i mean, hattie did say she’s excited to see me,” you teased, wrapping your arms around him from behind. “but you’re not so bad either.”

oscar gave you a playful look, shaking his head. “great. my girlfriend and my sisters, united in their mission to embarrass me.”

just as you were about to respond, the doorbell rang, and oscar stiffened. “they’re here,” he muttered, as if preparing himself for battle.

you laughed, giving him a gentle nudge. “go on, open the door.”

oscar opened the door, and in an instant, the apartment was filled with the sound of his sisters’ excited voices. hattie was the first through the door, pulling oscar into a tight hug before spotting you, rushing over to give you a big hug as well. “it’s so good to finally be here! i’ve been dying to see this place.”

“it’s amazing!” edie chimed in as she stepped inside, looking around in awe. “oscar, you didn’t tell us you were living in this kind of fancy.”

mae followed close behind, wide-eyed and already snapping photos on her phone. “this is insane. i can’t believe we’re in monaco!”

oscar stood there, slightly flustered by the sudden burst of energy, but he managed a small smile. “yeah, it’s . . . different from home, huh?”

“just a bit,” hattie said with a smirk. “you’re really living the high life now, oscar.”

“okay, okay, let’s not make a big deal out of it,” oscar muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

but over the next few days, his sisters made sure to make a big deal out of everything. the apartment was filled with laughter and playful teasing, and oscar—despite his constant groaning—was clearly enjoying having his family around.

“remember when oscar tried to teach himself how to juggle and ended up with a black eye?” edie brought up one afternoon, and you nearly spat out your drink from laughing so hard.

“oh, i’d forgotten about that!” hattie chimed in, leaning forward eagerly. “he thought he was so cool, but then bam! right in the face.”

“seriously?” you said between giggles, glancing over at oscar, who was sitting on the couch with his face buried in his hands.

“it wasn’t that bad,” oscar mumbled, though you could tell he was smiling beneath his hands.

“it was pretty bad,” mae teased, snapping a quick photo of oscar with his head down.

“i’m never going to survive this,” oscar muttered, though the warmth in his voice betrayed him. he really did enjoy having his sisters around. and the fact that you all got along so well made it even better.

in that moment, his life actually felt pretty close to perfect.

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solxamber · 28 days ago

Text

Trash Novel Chronicles: Get Me Out of Here || Rook Hunt

You’re isekai’d into a trashy novel and stuck as a tragic side knight character. All you want is survival, but your boss is Rook Hunt—a poetic, eccentric duke.

Now you’re caught in his chaos and, worse, you kinda don’t mind.

Series Masterlist

You’re a completely normal person. You eat normal meals at normal times, sleep the normal amount of hours (give or take a few, who needs all eight anyway?), and hold down a regular, soul-crushingly normal job. It’s not glamorous, but it pays the bills and lets you indulge in your one true love: reading web novels for five hours straight like some kind of feral literature goblin.

Your current obsession? The Lady’s Tragic Love. It’s the sort of story that you can’t put down—not because it’s good, but because it’s so excruciatingly terrible that it loops back around into comedy. The heroine has all the personality of a wet tissue but somehow manages to ruin everyone’s lives with reckless abandon. It’s almost impressive.

You rub your temples as you skim yet another chapter. “Oh my God, this woman has the moral compass of a black hole,” you mutter.

The plot makes less sense the deeper you go: the heroine starts off as the daughter of a down-on-their-luck noble family. Her father racks up an unholy amount of debt, so she’s forced to marry a viscount who—get this—is actually a nice guy. Like, genuinely kind. He agrees to marry her in name only to protect her from debt collectors, even offering to fund her hobbies.

And what does she do? Poison him. Poison him!

"Okay, maybe she's misunderstood," you think, in the kind of delusional optimism only a web novel enthusiast can muster.

Nope. She poisons him because she "can’t stand looking at his face," which is only mildly unattractive and not the ogre-like monstrosity the text implies. Also, he was literally helping her stay alive.

“Oh, sure, let’s kill the only decent male character in this hellscape. Why not?” you hiss, scrolling furiously.

After committing literal murder, the heroine sets her sights on an archduke, who is tall, handsome, and very much engaged to the so-called villainess. The villainess is stunning, kind, intelligent, and inexplicably hated by everyone because—checks notes—she’s too perfect?

At this point, you're gripping your phone so hard that it’s a miracle it doesn’t snap in half. “Why is the villainess the villain? This should be the heroine’s title! She’s practically speedrunning how to be the worst human being alive!”

But no, the heroine gets rewarded for her nonsense. The archduke doesn’t fall for her (because he has taste), but the crown prince does. The prince, apparently a sucker for chaos, marries her. Instead of being happy with her new title and riches, the heroine spends her days scheming to ruin the villainess’s life because, in her words, “How dare the archduke choose someone that isn’t me?”

You pause and reread that line. Then reread it again.

“WHAT?!” you yell so loudly that your downstairs neighbor bangs on the ceiling.

It’s a spiral of nonsense that drags you through emotional whiplash until you finish the last chapter with a migraine and a full-blown existential crisis. You stare at the screen. "Why...why did I do this to myself?"

You stumble out to your tiny balcony to clear your head, phone still in hand. The cool night air washes over you as you lean on the railing, your brain buzzing with rage and confusion.

“Why does she get a happy ending?” you grumble. “She’s a walking red flag factory! The villainess deserves to be queen, and the prince deserves a lobotomy for his taste in women!”

In your frustration, you kick the balcony railing. Unfortunately, your landlord hasn’t exactly been diligent about repairs. The rusted screws holding it in place give way with a terrifying screech.

“Oh, come on,” you say, deadpan, as the railing collapses beneath you.

You plummet ten stories down, bouncing off an awning like some kind of cartoon character before landing face-first in a suspiciously placed fruit cart.

As darkness creeps in, your final thought is not of regret, nor fear, but of pure, unfiltered pettiness:

“I hope my next life is more exciting… and I never have to read about this heroine again.”

With that, you pass out, blissfully unaware of the absurd fate that awaits you.

You wake up, groggy and disoriented, and immediately ask yourself the first logical question: Why the hell am I alive?

The last thing you remember is gravity betraying you and a suspiciously convenient fruit cart breaking your fall. But when you sit up and look around, it’s very clear you’re not in your crappy apartment anymore. For starters, this place is way too clean, smells faintly of vanilla, and—oh, is that sunlight streaming through those beautiful glass windows? Not the dim, depressing flicker of the streetlight outside your old place?

Something is very wrong.

You scramble out of the bed, which is definitely not your rickety twin-sized monstrosity held together with duct tape and misplaced hope, and start poking around. The furniture is elegant, the carpet is plush, and there’s an oil painting on the wall that practically screams, Welcome to Generic Medieval Europe™!

The realization slams into you with all the subtlety of a freight train: You’re in that garbage web novel.

You pause, frozen, your brain throwing up a million red flags at once. Your knees almost buckle. "Nope. No. Absolutely not. This is some kind of cosmic punishment," you whisper to yourself, clutching your temples.

You creep towards the ornate mirror on the other side of the room, your reflection getting clearer with every step. “Please,” you mutter, “if there’s a single merciful entity out there, don’t let me be the heroine. Or the villainess. Or, God forbid, one of the male leads.”

You finally reach the mirror, squeeze your eyes shut, then crack one open. And there you are: just some random face.

“Oh, thank God,” you exhale, slumping against the wall. You’re not the heroine. You’re not the villainess. You’re not one of the tragic walking disasters that make up the main cast. You're just… some person. A total nobody.

But just as you’re about to bust out your victory dance of mediocrity, something catches your eye. You lean closer, squinting.

Wait.

No.

NO.

You’re that nobody.

You’re the tragic commoner knight who gets blackmailed by the heroine, coerced into doing her dirty work, and ends up assassinating the villainess for her. The same commoner knight who dies in three chapters because the heroine throws them under the bus as soon as the villainess's fiancé finds out what happened.

You stagger back from the mirror like it’s cursed. “Nope. Nope. Absolutely not. I did not reincarnate into this medieval soap opera just to get unalived in the dumbest way possible,” you say, pacing the room like a lunatic.

Your character’s life flashes before your eyes: the abusive father, the crippling family loyalty, the gambling debts. This poor soul had it rough even before getting turned into the heroine’s personal murder minion. And you? You’re not about to pick up that torch.

So you grab some parchment and pen what might be the most passive-aggressive resignation letter of all time.

“To Her Highness, the Crown Princess,

Kindly do your own dirty work from now on. My father can gamble himself into oblivion. I’m out. Good luck with your reign or whatever.”

Satisfied, you sign it with an unnecessarily large flourish, slap it on the desk, and prepare to bounce.

You’re halfway down the hall when you almost walk face-first into him.

Rook Hunt, the walking embodiment of “this guy doesn’t belong in this novel but here he is anyway,” stands there with his golden hair and overly dramatic smile. He’s loud. He’s eccentric. He’s dressed like he’s about to break into a musical number about the beauty of life. Oh, and he’s also the duke whose household you served in as a knight before you quit.

“Mon ami!” he exclaims, throwing his arms wide like you’re long-lost lovers. “You’ve returned to me! What an exquisite twist of fate! Shall we celebrate the beauty of reunion?”

“No,” you say flatly. You attempt to sidestep him, but Rook doesn’t just let things go.

“You cannot leave me again! Do you not wish to resume your role as my loyal knight?”

“Absolutely not,” you snap on instinct, because why on earth would you willingly dive back into this mess? But then it hits you. Wait.

Rook isn’t part of the main plot. He’s not the crown prince, not the archduke, not the villain, and definitely not one of the doomed love interests. He’s just… there. A minor character. A colorful extra who pops up to sprinkle poetic nonsense into the plot and then wanders offstage.

Your brain kicks into overdrive. If you stick with him, you’ll be close enough to the action to keep tabs but far enough to avoid the heroine’s nonsense. Plus, salary. And minor characters like him rarely die!

Your decision solidifies. You plaster on a winning smile and nod. “Actually, on second thought, yeah. Let’s do that.”

“Magnifique!” Rook practically beams as he grabs your arm. “Come, let us bask in the splendor of returning home!”

You follow him, letting his endless stream of poetic babble wash over you. Is this the best plan? Probably not. But it beats getting murdered for a heroine who couldn’t find her moral compass with both hands and a map.

You make it back to the duke’s grand estate—because of course it’s grand. Every aristocrat in this godforsaken novel seems to have a mansion the size of a small country. Rook practically floats through the gates, his dramatic energy causing every passing servant to give him the “not again” look. You follow, still trying to process the reality of your current situation.

After an unnecessarily flowery tour of the place (you’ve been here before in this body, but you let him talk because it’s easier than interrupting), he finally stops in the courtyard. He turns to you, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Now, mon chevalier, reclaim your rightful position as my trusted bodyguard!” he declares, flinging his arms wide as if inviting the heavens to applaud him.

You blink. “…Respectfully, sir, why do you need a bodyguard?”

He pauses, staring at you like you just asked why water is wet. Then, with an infuriatingly serene smile, he says, “Ah, but the shadows are filled with secrets, my dear knight! The beauty of life is in its mysteries, n’est-ce pas?”

You squint at him. “Okay, but that doesn’t answer the question.”

He leans in closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Because the wolves, mon ami. The wolves.”

You freeze. “…What wolves?”

Rook straightens up, tilting his head as if contemplating the meaning of the universe. “Ah, they are everywhere and nowhere. In the forests, in the halls, in the hearts of men. Who can say where danger truly lies?”

This man just said a whole lot of words without saying anything.

“Right,” you say slowly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “But you’re, like, ridiculously strong. I’m pretty sure you could take on any wolf—metaphorical or not—by yourself.”

“Ah, mon chevalier,” he says with a wistful sigh, placing a hand on his chest like he’s reciting a Shakespearean soliloquy. “Strength alone cannot protect one from the unexpected, the unseen, the poetry of peril!”

You stare at him, trying to figure out if this is some sort of elaborate prank. But no. This man is completely serious.

“So… wolves. Poetry of peril. Got it,” you mutter, rubbing your temples. “I’ll, uh, just… go patrol or something, I guess.”

Rook claps his hands together, beaming. “Ah, magnifique! I knew you would understand! Truly, you are a gem among knights!”

You slink off, still scratching your head. You’re 90% sure the wolves are a metaphor for absolutely nothing, but who are you to question the logic of a trash novel? At least the pay is good.

You quickly realize this trash novel is trying to trash you right back. It’s like every corner you turn, fate has decided you don’t deserve a peaceful life.

Walking through the garden to calm your nerves? Someone leaps out of the hedges with a dagger. You narrowly dodge, trip over a decorative fountain, and the attacker runs off, cackling.

Trying to enjoy the roses because you’re starting to think, “Hey, if I gotta die, at least let it be aesthetic?” Nope, arrow. Right past your ear.

By the fifth assassination attempt (some guy “accidentally” dropping a potted plant from a balcony), it clicks. The heroine must’ve decided since you’re not doing her dirty work anymore, she needs to eliminate you before you spill the beans. But, unlike her, you have brains.

So, you write a letter.

Dear Villainess and Esteemed Archduke,

I hope this letter finds you well, though considering the general chaos surrounding us, that feels optimistic.

I am writing to inform you of an unfortunate situation involving a certain someone (cough the crown princess cough) who has, shall we say, less-than-noble intentions toward your continued existence.

To clarify: she asked me to assassinate you. I know, shocking. However, as someone who values integrity, personal safety, and not being murdered by shady royalty, I’ve decided to step down from my position as her unwilling assassin.

This does mean she may hire someone else to handle the job, which is unfortunate for you but also none of my business anymore. I’m not sure how you typically handle murder plots, but I suggest taking precautions, like perhaps not smelling your roses or standing under precariously placed flower pots.

Lastly, while I am admittedly a pawn in this chaotic mess, I felt it was only fair to let you know what’s going on. I wish you both a long, unassassinated life.

Warm regards,

Your Local Retired Assassin

P.S. Please don’t kill me. I’m just the messenger.

You thought this letter would buy you peace. Instead, it bought you an invitation.

And by “invitation,” you mean you’ve been dragged into a private meeting with the villainess and the archduke, who are both sitting across from you now, looking like they’re deciding whether to thank you or strangle you.

“So,” the villainess says, her voice like ice. “You’re telling me the crown princess is plotting to kill me?”

“Uh, yes,” you say, your palms sweating. “But, like, not me anymore! I’ve retired. Permanently.”

The archduke raises an eyebrow. “Why would she want to kill us?”

You glance at the villainess. “Uh… because you exist?”

Before the villainess can stab you (she looks ready), the door swings open, and in saunters Rook.

“Ah, my friends!” he says, grinning ear to ear. “How serendipitous that we are all here. I believe I can shed some light on this matter.”

You gape as Rook launches into a detailed explanation of the heroine’s convoluted scheme—exactly what she’s planning, who she’s hiring, and even the color of the dress she’ll wear while gloating about it.

The villainess and the archduke exchange a glance, then rise, thanking Rook for his “invaluable insight” before sweeping out of the room, leaving you and Rook alone.

You turn to him, your jaw still on the floor. “How do you even know all that?”

Rook just winks at you. “Ah, mon chevalier, the shadows have ears, and I am their maestro.”

He struts out, humming a jaunty tune, leaving you sitting there, more confused than ever. At this point, you’re half-convinced Rook is either a genius or just making stuff up as he goes. And honestly? You’re too tired to figure it out.

You’re stationed at the edge of the garden, trying your best to blend into the scenery while the tea party unfolds. Rook, as usual, is the life of the gathering, passionately chatting with Vil and Epel, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

You’re in your usual "bodyguard mode," which mostly consists of staring off into the distance and trying not to fall asleep. It’s peaceful—for once—until Epel casually drops a comment loud enough for even you to hear.

"Rook, you finally got them back, huh?"

Your brain screeches to a halt.

Got you back? Back? What does that mean? What is there to get back? Was there something to get back in the first place?

You barely have time to process any of this before Rook, in the most Rook way possible, interrupts with a flurry of poetic nonsense.

“Ah, young Epel, the winds of fortune have indeed graced me with their bounteous song! But let us not dwell on the past, for the present blooms before us like a radiant garden of opportunity!”

You blink. Did… did that mean anything? Epel seems to think it doesn’t, judging by the way he rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath. But you’re too busy processing the odd look on Rook’s face to care.

Because, for the first time ever, Rook looks nervous.

His usual serene confidence is still there, but there’s a hint of something else—a faint pink dusting his cheeks, an almost imperceptible shift in his tone. And why the hell is your heart fluttering at the sight?

You squint at him, trying to decode whatever is happening here. Is he… embarrassed? Flustered? Can Rook even be flustered?

Before you can spiral further into overthinking, you notice Vil’s sharp gaze cutting through the moment like a knife. His violet eyes lock onto yours, and an infuriatingly amused smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

Oh no. He knows.

Vil, of course, pretends like nothing’s happening, smoothly pouring himself another cup of tea and joining the conversation like the consummate aristocrat he is. But every so often, you catch him glancing at you with that same entertained expression, like he’s just discovered a juicy secret.

You try to shake it off, refusing to let yourself be dragged into this nonsense. But Rook’s flushed face lingers in your mind, and every time he smiles at you for the rest of the party, you feel the heat creeping up your own cheeks.

Great. Just great. Whatever this is, it’s going to haunt you for days.

It started with an uproar in the palace—a desperate, urgent call for help sent to Rook, Duke of Hunt.

"The wolves are attacking!"

You were mid-sword practice when the messenger arrived, breathless and frantic. He handed the summons to Rook, who took the parchment with an amused smile.

"Wolves, you say?" he mused, tapping his chin dramatically.

"Yes, my lord!" The messenger practically collapsed from the effort of delivering the message. "They’ve breached the outer gardens, and the prince and heroine request your immediate assistance!"

Rook looked at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ah, mon chevalier, do you recall what I told you once about wolves?"

You blinked, frowning. "You mean the thing about being surrounded by wolves one day? I thought you were joking."

Rook’s grin widened. "Oh, I never jest about wolves."

You opened your mouth to demand clarification, but Rook waved the parchment dismissively. "Alas, I must decline."

The messenger froze. "W-What? But…you’re the Duke of Hunt! The greatest tracker and marksman in the kingdom! Without you, the palace is doomed!"

Rook leaned forward conspiratorially. "Tell me, mon ami, what makes you think I’d risk life and limb for the likes of the heroine and her precious prince?"

The messenger stammered. "B-But—"

Rook held up a hand, silencing him. "No, no. I simply cannot. My schedule is far too packed. Why, just this morning, I promised my chevalier here that I’d help reorganize their weapons rack." He turned to you with a wink. "Isn’t that right?"

You rolled your eyes but nodded. "Yep. Super busy."

The messenger left, looking utterly defeated. You figured that was the end of it.

It wasn’t.

Over the next two hours, messengers kept arriving, each more desperate than the last. Rook refused them all with increasing flamboyance.

One messenger was sent away with, "Alas, the stars are not in alignment for such a hunt!"

Another was dismissed with, "The winds whisper that this is not my destiny today."

Finally, a personal plea came from the heroine herself. She barged into the estate, dramatically throwing herself at Rook’s feet.

"Oh, noble Duke!" she wailed. "You are the only one who can save us! Please, I beg of you!"

Rook tilted his head, pretending to think it over. Then he glanced at you, his expression suddenly sharp beneath the veneer of cheer.

"And what of my chevalier?" he asked.

The heroine frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You’ve made quite a nuisance of yourself lately," Rook said lightly, though there was an edge to his voice. "Why, only yesterday, you sent someone to ambush them in the gardens, did you not?"

Her face paled.

"I might reconsider," Rook said, his tone taking on a singsong quality, "if you promise to leave them alone from now on."

There was a long, tense pause. The heroine’s expression flickered between rage and fear before she finally forced a smile. "Very well. I promise."

"Splendid!" Rook clapped his hands and stood. "To the hunt, then!"

You stood there in stunned silence as he walked out the door, bow in hand. When he turned back to flash you a grin, you couldn’t help but mutter, "What the hell just happened?"

Rook’s laugh echoed through the halls, and you were left wondering yet again if you’d ever fully understand this ridiculous man.

It’s payday, baby.

You’ve never been more excited to hold a pouch of jingling coins in your life. Your day off couldn’t have come at a better time, and you’ve already decided to treat yourself. No assassination attempts, no cryptic poetry, no Rook yammering about beauty—just you, the market, and sweet, sweet retail therapy.

After wandering for a while, you stumble upon a fruit stall, and your eyes light up. The produce is incredible—vividly colored, juicy, and nothing like the waxy, suspiciously glossy stuff you’d get in your original world. You don’t even know what half these fruits are, but they smell amazing, and you’re buying them all.

As you carry your haul back to the manor, an idea hits you like a freight train. You’ve been craving dessert—specifically, something you can’t get in medieval Europe. Something simple, sweet, and utterly anachronistic.

And that’s how you end up in the kitchen, surrounded by fresh fruit, flour, sugar, and whatever else you’ve managed to scrounge up. You’re determined to make crêpes. Yes, you know they weren’t invented yet, but the cooks don’t even seem to know what a waffle is, so they’re not going to stop you.

It takes a bit of trial and error—because, shocker, medieval kitchens are not equipped for finesse—but eventually, you’ve got a plate of soft, golden crêpes filled with fresh fruit and drizzled with honey. It’s so beautiful it almost brings a tear to your eye.

You’re mid-bite, mentally congratulating yourself, when Rook materializes out of nowhere like some kind of dessert-seeking missile.

“Mon chevalier! What marvel have you crafted here in this humble kitchen? The scent alone rivals the sweetest perfume!”

You freeze. This is fine. He’s just curious. There’s no reason to panic. Subconsciously, you scoop up a bite on your fork and offer it to him, your body on autopilot.

Rook doesn’t hesitate, leaning in and accepting the bite with the elegance of a prince at court. “Magnifique! Truly, you have woven magic into this creation, mon cher!”

You relax slightly, pride swelling at the compliment—until he takes your hand and licks a stray drop of honey from your finger.

Your brain short-circuits.

Before you can even form a coherent thought, Rook grins at you with that infuriatingly charming smile of his, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek.

“You are as talented in the kitchen as you are with a blade,” he says, his voice warm and soft, as if he hasn’t just dismantled your sanity.

And then he’s gone, striding out of the kitchen with his usual jaunty step, leaving you standing there like an idiot, replaying the sensation of his lips on your cheek and his tongue on your finger.

You slowly sink to the floor, crêpe in hand, trying to process what just happened.

“Why,” you mutter to yourself, taking another bite of your crêpe for courage, “does this keep happening to me?”

Life had been…dare you say it, pleasant recently. No assassination attempts, no tea parties and no surprise arrows whizzing by your head. You were almost convinced this world might not be so bad after all.

But like clockwork, the plot reared its ugly head.

You were outside, basking in the rare serenity of a quiet afternoon, when the shouting began. You knew the voice instantly. It was grating, furious, and way too familiar.

Your abusive father—the original you’s deadbeat excuse for a parent—had somehow crawled out of the woodwork.

“You useless brat!” he snarled, stomping toward you. “How dare you stop sending money? Do you think you’re too good for your family now?!”

Oh, for the love of—

You crossed your arms, already done with the theatrics. “First of all, family implies mutual care and respect, neither of which you’ve ever provided. Secondly, kiss my ass.”

The man’s face turned a deep shade of purple, veins bulging in his forehead. He raised his hand, and you didn’t flinch. You weren’t scared of him. You were just irritated that he had the audacity to show up and ruin your vibe.

But before his hand could even swing down, an arrow whizzed past, slicing through the air with deadly precision. It nicked his cheek, leaving a shallow cut, and he yelped like a scolded dog.

You turned, and there he was.

Rook.

But this wasn’t the poetic, flowery Rook who praised sunsets and waxed lyrical about everything under the sun. No, this was Duke Hunt. His bow was clenched tightly in one hand, his expression colder than you’d ever seen. His eyes locked onto your father, sharp and unyielding, and for the first time, you truly understood why people called him a hunter.

Your father stumbled back, clutching his cheek. “Y-you’ll regret this! I’ll get my revenge!” he spat, turning tail and running like the two-bit villain he was.

You didn’t even watch him go. You were too busy staring at Rook, your heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the fact that, dammit, he looked good like this.

You silently scolded yourself. Really? Now? This is when you’re going to have a revelation about your feelings? Pull it together.

Rook’s gaze softened as he looked at you, and without a word, he closed the distance between you. Before you could process it, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a firm, steady embrace.

You stiffened for a moment, but then it hit you—you were shaken. You hadn’t realized it until now, but the encounter had left your hands trembling. And Rook…he didn’t say a word. He just held you, radiating warmth and reassurance, as if he knew exactly what you needed.

Slowly, you relaxed, leaning into him, letting the tension bleed out of your body. For once, there were no witty remarks, no poetic musings, no cryptic riddles. Just Rook, steady and solid, and the quiet comfort of his presence.

You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. Maybe life here wasn’t so bad after all.

It was the hunting competition trope—the bread and butter of every third-rate villainess novel ever written. Noblemen rode out in droves to massacre innocent wildlife in the name of prestige, while the women gathered on the sidelines to swoon over who could kill the most majestic creature.

Normally, you'd find this whole affair ridiculous, but today? Today, it was a strategic opportunity.

Rook and you had cooked up a plan. After bagging his game, Rook would publicly gift it to the villainess, cementing the stance of his household against the heroine. A subtle yet unmistakable message to everyone present: this duke’s house wasn’t here to play politics; it was drawing battle lines.

Rook was, predictably, ecstatic about it all. “Ah, mon chevalier, what a splendid opportunity to honor beauty and justice with the art of the hunt!” he proclaimed, twirling dramatically as he readied his bow.

What you didn’t anticipate was his strange fixation on a handkerchief before he left.

Throughout the day, noblewomen approached Rook, each one batting their lashes and holding out dainty, embroidered handkerchiefs. It was practically a parade of desperate peahens.

“Oh, Lord Hunt, a token for luck!” cooed one particularly persistent lady, pushing her frilly kerchief toward him.

Rook clasped his hands to his chest with exaggerated reverence. “Ah, mademoiselle, your thoughtfulness moves me beyond words, but alas, I cannot accept. To carry such a treasure into the wild would be to risk its loss, and I could never bear such tragedy!”

Another woman attempted to loop her kerchief around his wrist directly. Rook gracefully dodged, as though she were offering him a live snake. “My dear lady, your artistry is unparalleled, but the only adornment fit for this hunt is the pure, untainted spirit of nature herself!”

By the third rejection, you were practically biting your tongue to keep from laughing.

But then came the curveball.

“Ah,” Rook sighed as he approached you. “If only I had a handkerchief imbued with sincerity. A simple, honest token to guide my aim and steady my heart!”

You blinked at him. “What, like…this?” You pulled out your completely ordinary, unembellished handkerchief and held it out.

Rook’s eyes lit up as though you’d just handed him the Holy Grail. “Mon chevalier! How perfect! How divine! This humble square of cloth shall be my guiding light!”

Before you could protest, he tied it around his arm with a flourish and rode off, looking like he was ready to star in his own personal opera.

From his place in the pavilion, Vil Schoenheit took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea, his sharp eyes locking onto yours with a glint of pure amusement. The smirk tugging at his lips seemed to say, Oh, I know exactly what’s going on.

Meanwhile, Epel squinted between you and Rook, his expression shifting rapidly as though he’d just cracked the secret to immortality. He whispered something to Vil, who nearly choked on his tea before regaining his composure.

What the hell is going on? you thought, baffled.

Fast forward to now, the present, where the plan was supposed to culminate with Rook triumphantly presenting his prize to the villainess. Simple, elegant, strategic.

So why, why, was Rook standing in front of you holding a literal griffin?

“Uh, Rook,” you whispered through gritted teeth. “What are you doing? This is supposed to go to the villainess.”

But Rook was having none of it.

“Ah, my loyal chevalier,” he declared loudly, drawing the attention of every noble in the vicinity. “It is only fitting that such a prize goes to the one who inspires my steadfastness and resolve!”

Your jaw dropped. “Rook. No.”

He turned his radiant smile on you, looking like a proud schoolboy showing off a crayon drawing to his teacher. “Yes!”

The gathered nobles erupted into murmurs, and you could already feel the weight of every single judgmental stare. This was not part of the plan. But despite your internal screaming, a small, annoying part of you couldn’t help but feel…flattered. This was a duke, and you were just a knight. A very confused, very underqualified knight, sure, but still.

Vil, still seated with his ever-present cup of tea, took another long, pointed sip, his eyes glimmering with amusement.

This was the drama he’d signed up for.

The hallway leading back to the room where Vil, Rook, and Epel were sitting felt oddly silent, the muffled voices of their conversation barely filtering through the door. You weren’t one to eavesdrop—but when you heard your name, well, curiosity got the better of you.

"Just confess already," Epel was saying, his tone exasperated. "We’ve all seen the way you look at them."

Vil chimed in, his voice tinged with amusement. "Epel is right for once, Rook. Love is about timing, and yours is abysmal."

"But love is an art, mon ami," Rook replied, his tone unusually hesitant. "It cannot be rushed. It must unfold naturally, like the petals of a flower in spring."

"Okay," Vil drawled, clearly unimpressed. "But what happens when someone else plucks your ‘flower’? Say, the gardener they’ve been spending so much time with?"

The silence that followed was deafening. You leaned closer, your heart pounding, hoping—no, needing—to hear Rook’s response.

Instead, you heard nothing.

The stillness stretched unbearably until you couldn’t take it anymore. You shoved the door open, startling all three occupants. "What are you talking about?"

Vil raised an eyebrow, the picture of nonchalance, though the corners of his mouth twitched with mischief. "Perfect timing, as always. I’ll leave you two to sort this out."

He grabbed a very reluctant Epel by the collar and dragged him toward the door. "Wait, I wanna see what happens!" Epel protested, but Vil shut the door behind them with a decisive click.

Which left you and Rook alone.

You crossed your arms, leveling him with a look that you hoped masked the frantic hammering of your heart. "So…what’s this about a confession?"

Rook’s usual composure faltered. For once, the poetic, perpetually self-assured Rook you knew looked…unsure. Vulnerable. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his gloves, and he avoided your gaze, staring instead at the floor.

"Rook," you said softly, stepping closer. "Please, just tell me what’s going on. I need to know."

He finally looked up, and the raw emotion in his eyes was enough to steal your breath.

"Mon chevalier," he began, his voice low and trembling, "I have loved you from the start. At first, it was the camaraderie of equals, a kindred spirit I admired. But when you returned from the heroine’s side, defying expectations and staying true to yourself…you captured my heart completely."

You blinked, stunned. "Rook, I—"

He continued, the words spilling out as though he’d been holding them back for far too long. "You never treated me like I was strange. You accepted me as I am, even when others mocked my passions or dismissed my eccentricities. I never truly needed a bodyguard. I just needed you. Near me. Always."

His voice broke slightly on the last word, and you felt your resolve crumble.

You sighed, but it wasn’t from exasperation. It was the sound of relief, of something clicking into place. "Next time," you said, stepping even closer, "just tell me your feelings directly. It’ll save us both a lot of trouble."

Before he could respond, you reached up and pulled him into a kiss.

It was everything a first kiss should be—long, searing, passionate. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you flush against him as though he never wanted to let go. You melted into him, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, and for a moment, the world outside that kiss ceased to exist.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Rook’s lips quirked into a smile as he whispered, "Your lips are the sweetest arrow, mon amour, and they have pierced my heart beyond repair."

You burst into laughter, burying your face in the crook of his neck to muffle the sound. "Gods, Rook, only you could ruin a moment like this with something so cheesy."

He chuckled softly, his arms still secure around you.

And as you stood there in his embrace, you couldn’t help but think that this ridiculous, trashy novel world was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

The parlor was warm with the golden light of afternoon sun filtering through the windows, but the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation. You stood near Rook, his arm casually draped across the back of your chair, as Vil and Epel looked at you expectantly.

“Well?” Vil prompted, raising a perfectly arched brow.

You glanced at Rook, who smiled encouragingly, as if to say, go ahead. Clearing your throat, you announced, “We’re…together.”

Vil sighed dramatically, setting down his teacup with a soft clink. “Finally. I was starting to think I’d have to intervene.”

Epel, on the other hand, froze mid-sip of his cider. Slowly, he set the glass down, stood, and walked over to you. His expression was a mix of grief and dread, like someone had just informed him of some terrible, life-altering news.

He placed both hands firmly on your shoulders and looked you dead in the eyes. “Good luck,” he said, solemn as a funeral bell. “This is a life sentence, y’know.”

Rook chuckled, clearly amused. “Mon cher Epel, you wound me! Surely being with moi is more of a treasure than a trial?”

Epel turned to him, unimpressed. “Treasure? You follow people for fun. You recite poetry to wild animals. You can’t even eat pie without analyzing its existential meaning. I mean, who does that?”

You were already laughing, shaking your head as you patted Epel’s hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Epel. This is a sentence I’m more than happy to serve.”

Vil smirked behind his tea, watching the scene unfold with obvious amusement. “Frankly, I’m just relieved we won’t have to endure any more of his tragic sighs every time you left a room.”

Rook clasped a hand to his heart in mock offense. “Oh, Vil! My sighs are poetry incarnate!”

Vil didn’t even blink. “Your sighs are the sound of unspoken melodrama. Spare me.”

Epel plopped back into his seat with a long groan, running a hand through his hair. “Anyway, I guess congratulations or whatever. At least now we can all stop pretending we don’t notice him staring at you like some love-struck puppy.”

“That’s rich,” you shot back, grinning. “You’re the one who looks like your pet rat just died every time we get close.”

Epel huffed. “I’m just saying! Now you gotta deal with him being even more poetic! And clingy! You thought the prince and heroine were bad? Wait till you see Rook when he’s in love. You’re doomed.”

At the mention of the prince and heroine, Vil made an exaggerated sound of disgust. “Speaking of those two… Honestly, has anyone ever been so painfully predictable? The prince has all the charm of wet cardboard, and the heroine—don’t even get me started on her hair ribbons.”

“Ah, the heroine,” Rook sighed wistfully, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Always so delightfully transparent. Her schemes are like open windows to her soul.”

You snorted. “If by soul, you mean her desperate attempts to turn everything into a sob story, then yeah, sure.”

Epel leaned forward, grinning. “Did you see her crying at the hunt competition? Like, girl, it’s a competition. What did you think would happen? That the griffin would apologize and hand itself over?”

Vil smirked, tapping a manicured finger against his chin. “Or how about the prince declaring his ‘eternal devotion’ to her at the banquet last week? I nearly choked on my wine.”

Rook chuckled, turning to you with a soft smile that was far more genuine than his usual theatrics. “Ah, but let us not waste all our words on such trivialities. This moment, mon amour, is one of joy.”

You leaned into him, your laughter subsiding into a contented smile. His arm slipped around your shoulders, holding you close as Vil and Epel continued their playful bickering in the background.

For the first time since you’d been thrown into this absurd world, you felt completely at ease. If this was the result of being trapped in a trash novel, then so be it. You were exactly where you wanted to be.

Trash Novel Masterlist

Complete Masterlists

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #rook hunt x reader #rook x reader #rook hunt #rook x you #rook hunt x you #rook #trash novel chronicles

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