#wish he didn't look so good but thankful that he does

[levanterhaze]

GAMEBOY — BANGCHAN

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader this one is just pure angst and drama, no smut, just teasing each other like two idiots.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[ 5.7k words ]♡― i had to continue this fic in a 2nd part, i felt necessary. maybe i'll continue it in a few more chapters (PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP ON ME) and thank you thank you thank you to everyone who has commented and appreciated this piece. it means a lot to a person who is non-native english wrt. without further ado, have a good read, loves!

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one]

you’re so indecisive of what I’m saying tryna catch the beat, make up your heart don't know if you're happy or complaining don't want for us to end, where do I start?

The pounding in your head was a testament to last night’s choices. Aspirin was non-negotiable. You could hear Eunji and Sohee's voices from the living room and were surprised that both of them were already awake after their all-nighter.

After leaving the room with Bangchan—because, of course, that happened—you ducked into the bathroom, shot off a text about vomiting and existential regret, and decided to make a graceful exit. Well, as graceful as one could manage after wild sex with the person you’d sworn to hate forever. Pride was nowhere in the equation, but who cared?

As soon as your eyes saw daylight, Eunji and Sohee looked at you judgmentally. You froze in your tracks, still wearing pink Hello Kitty jammies like a monument to your shame. Their judgment was immediate, sharp as a blade. Your heart sped up.

“You’re alive,” Sohee deadpanned, taking a bite of a cinnamon roll. “And looking like shit.”

“Appreciate it,” you shot back, throwing yourself into a chair. “Really warms the soul.”

Eunji’s smoothie slurp was unnecessarily loud, drilling straight into your skull. “We thought about waking you for breakfast but figured you’d need the recovery time.”

You dismissed the idea with a hand wave. "That's okay. Wouldn’t have gotten up anyway.”

"We can have lunch together, if you like. I really need a detox after last night." Sohee curled her lips into a grimace and you almost smiled. Detox advice from Sohee was peak irony.

But then Eunji, ever the chaos-bringer, dropped the bomb. “Oh my God, you guys, I heard the craziest thing last night! Jiwoon—my lit classmate—said he walked in on someone having super loud sex at the party. Guess who it was? Bangchan!”

Your heart plummeted straight into your stomach.

Silence remained and Sohee raised her eyebrows at Eunji.

“Apparently, the guy is a structural hazard,” Sohee chimed in, amused. “Minho said he once broke a floorboard. Who even does that?” Your red-haired friend says giggling.

Eunji giggled. “The girl’s lucky. If Bangchan wrecked me, I’d consider it an honor.”

You summoned your most convincing disdain, rolling your eyes with the energy of someone deeply unimpressed. “Honestly, can we not make him sound like some sort of deity?”

But guilt clung to you like a second skin, mingling with vivid flashes of last night—the furniture banging against the wall, Bangchan’s muscles taut as he tried to steady it. The memory burned, searing and humiliating, until Eunji’s voice yanked you back to reality.

The memory faded like mist when Eunji said it again. "Anyway, the girl’s lucky. I wish I was knocked down by Bangchan."

Lucky. That’s what they’d call you if they knew. Lucky—and a traitor to everything you’d loudly professed about hating him. They didn’t know it was you, and you intended to keep it that way.

From the tone of the chat, Jiwoon didn't see who was in the room with Bangchan, which means he didn't know you were the girl. Trying to ignore the talking and the sweat growing on your hands, you got up and declared that you were going to take a shower and maybe run some laps around the athletics track, because you really needed some fresh air.

The dorm felt claustrophobic. Eunji and Sohee were your best friends and you felt awful for not telling them the truth.

These were your best friends, but the truth felt like a grenade you couldn’t risk dropping. For months, you’d built your personality around despising Bangchan, and now? One night had unraveled it all.

Worst of all? You couldn’t stop replaying every second of it—and how much you’d loved it.

Sex had always been an exercise in mediocrity. Your exes? Predictably average, hitting the bare minimum on their way to their own finish line. As for finding the clitoris? Let’s just say they navigated like someone using a map upside down—an unsurprising disappointment every single time.

Now, though, Bangchan was something else entirely. A campus legend with a reputation as vast as it was unshakable. Everyone knew about his conquests—more women than you had fingers to count. Every rumor you’d rolled your eyes at turned out to be painfully, thrillingly true. He was better than anything you could have imagined.

Even after a long shower, his touch lingered, like phantom fingerprints etched into your skin. You could still feel him, every moment replaying in a maddening loop. No one had ever made you come twice in one night. No one. That fact alone made him unforgettable—and insufferably smug, no doubt.

Pulling on comfortable clothes, you grabbed a bag, stuffed in some essentials, and checked your phone. The group chat was overflowing with photos and messages from last night’s chaos, but you scrolled past all of it. There was only one person you needed right now.

You: Up for a morning run?

The reply came in under two minutes.

Hyunjin: It’s two in the afternoon. You: Morning for me. Hyunjin: Fine. Be there in five.

You tossed your phone into your bag and took a deep breath. A run was exactly what you needed—to burn off this restless energy and, hopefully, forget how guilty you felt.

You found Hyunjin on the running track near the outdoor field, surrounded by lush greenery and bursts of flowers the campus meticulously maintained. He looked effortlessly good, of course—baggy clothes hanging just right, dark hair falling over his face like it had been styled by the gods.

You started running side by side, silence settling between you. It was comfortable but heavy, like a bubble that needed popping. The kiss was the unspoken elephant on the track, but Hyunjin, ever observant, didn’t push. Not yet.

The day was crisp, the kind of weather that made you feel invincible. You poured your focus into your pace, and before you knew it, you’d pulled ahead. “Okay, okay—hold up,” Hyunjin called, his voice carrying just enough humor to make you smirk.

You stopped a few strides ahead, spinning on your heel to face him. He sauntered toward you, not even winded, like running was merely a mild inconvenience.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he said, his tone playful but probing.

“There’s nothing to tell,” you countered, already feeling your resolve falter.

“Uh-huh.” He stopped in front of you, his gaze narrowing. “Then why, exactly, did you ask me to kiss you last night?”

Well. There it was. No escaping now.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool as you grabbed the water bottle from your bag. “I was... needy, I guess.”

Hyunjin raised a brow, crossing his arms like he wasn’t buying it. “Needy, huh?”

“Look,” you said, exhaling sharply, “I’m sorry if it made things weird. You’re my best friend, and the last thing I want is for that to get messed up.”

“Relax,” he said, grinning as he ran a hand through his hair. “A kiss isn’t going to scare me off. You’re stuck with me.”

His easy laugh melted some of your tension, but before you could respond, he clapped his hands together with mock seriousness. “Tell you what—first one to the other side of campus owes the winner a banana milk.”

The sudden challenge caught you off guard, and you raised a brow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he said, already turning on his heel to start jogging backward. “Unless you’re too scared.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you bolted after him. “You’re so on.”

You lost the run, but of course, Hyunjin still paid for the drink. That summed him up as a friend.

After he dashed off to rehearse with Felix—because apparently, everyone else was rehearsing but you—a thought hit you like a lightbulb flickering to life. Rumors? Easy to spread. But if you wanted to get ahead of them, you had to go straight to the source.

With a mission in mind, you swaggered toward the gym where the basketball team was practicing. It wasn’t exactly classified info—every girl on campus could probably tell you when and where their training sessions were. You zipped your jacket up to your chin like it was some sort of emotional armor, grabbed your water bottle for moral support, and marched down the corridors. The door to the gym was already cracked open, and as you pushed it, everything seemed to slow down in the most dramatic way.

The guys were running drills, their shoes squeaking on the court like a broken record. The noise grated on your nerves, but you weren’t here for the sound; you were here for the spectacle. The stands were dotted with girls, some wrapped up in their player-boyfriend fantasies, while others... Well, who knows what they were thinking. You didn’t care. You had your eyes on the real prize today.

There he was, standing out like a sore thumb. His black and white uniform somehow looked too good on him. Focus, girl. You hid behind the staircase, crouched like a sneaky little spy, waiting for the game to wrap up.

It took nearly ten minutes, but eventually, the whistle blew. You adjusted your posture, trying to act casual, though you were definitely still paying attention to how the sweat trickled down Bangchan's forehead. It brought you war flashbacks. When the players scattered to grab towels and water, you took your cue to appear from behind the bleachers, giving a quick, awkward wave before ducking back again.

Bangchan's eyes scanned the area, and when they landed on you, his brows shot up in surprise.  In the meantime, he did the inevitable: he took off his shirt and used it to get dry. Great. Just great.

"Did you come to watch?" He smirked, that cocky grin of his. "Didn't know you were into basketball."

You rolled your eyes. His ability to flirt in every situation was almost impressive.

"Ha-ha. No." You sucked in a breath, desperately trying to obey your brain's commands. Don't look down. Don’t you dare look down. "Actually, I came to ask for a favor."

He leaned against the wall, eyebrow quirked, looking amused. "Okay...?"

“Right. I want what happened yesterday to stay a secret.”

Bangchan's eyebrow arched higher, an expression of entertained disbelief crossing his face. He crossed his arms, flexing those muscles in a way that made the mission of not looking at them impossible.

“'You think I'm going around saying we fucked?"

You roll your eyes, frustration building up, and clench your hand into a fist. Sure, say it louder, let the world know.

“Isn't that exactly what you do? Brag about your sexual life?”

The boy nodded, puffing out his chest, he shot back. "Ever heard me brag about it?"

“I don't need to hear it from you. The campus does it for you.” It was infuriating how this worked out. Everyone thought Bangchan was the type of guy, praising his victories and glorifying him every time he got between some girl's pants. 

Meanwhile, girls were severely censured for even kissing a guy at a party.

"Right. So you're just going off what people say about me?" His tone was challenging, like he couldn’t care less.

In a long drawn-out sigh, you fidgeted with your hands, intending to put the matter to one side. "Can you just keep this between us? I don't want anyone to know."

"Whatever, it's no big deal," he replied nonchalantly, shrugging. "If it's that important to you."

The words stung more than they should have. It wasn’t just the lack of care, it was the way he made it sound like it didn’t matter. No big deal. It hurt your pride, even if you didn’t mean it to. But that was Bangchan, wasn’t it? Haughty and self-righteous. Yeah, he was great in bed, but his attitude? Utterly shitty.

“Thanks.” You said it briefly, biting down your pride and leaving the scene as fast as you could. Speaking to him seemed like a fool's errand, but you couldn't risk it.

Behind you, Bangchan pursed his lips into a thin line, watching you go. To him, you were hopeless—always on guard, never letting your walls down. He knew he was right, even if it was a thin line. Sure, it was fun to rile you up, but it was maddening that you hated him for things he hadn’t even done.

Getting you to change your mind, though? That was the challenge. But if that’s what it took, he was more than willing to play the long game.

Early next week. Only Tuesday, and auditions loomed just a day away. You’d been agonizing over the perfect solo—one that wouldn’t just get you a role but the role. Monday was a blur of brainstorming with Hyunjin and Seungmin, your trusted theater comrades. Between swapping notes, debating song choices, and plenty of eye rolls, you managed to help each other refine your audition pieces. It was productive. Chaotic, but productive.

Your last hour of the day belonged to the theater, and it was sacred. The stage wasn’t just a place; it was a state of mind. The second the music hit, the world faded. Bills, homework, exes who ghosted you—it all melted away. Up there, you weren’t just alive; you were electric. It wasn’t just a hobby; it was instinct.

Your mom used to say you were born for the stage. She loved telling the story of how, as a kid, you’d belt out The Little Mermaid soundtrack so often the neighbors probably debated filing a noise complaint. Singing “Part of Your World” at the top of your lungs? A daily ritual. But the first time you sang for real—no plastic microphone, no stuffed animal audience—it clicked.

This was more than a passion. It was home.

Since high school, your hunger for the stage—and the spotlight—was insatiable. If there was a club, you wanted in. University was no different. People noticed you, not just for your knack for hitting sharp, glass-shattering high notes, but for your versatility. You could slip from sweet soprano to soulful belter faster than a drama major running late to class. On stage, you were magnetic.

Everyone gathered on stage, and Mrs. Baek appeared a few moments later with her round glasses and wavy hair around her face. Her figure was solid and powerful, as was her voice and knowledge.

But today, something was off. The crease on her forehead gave her away before she said a word. It was like a ripple of unease spread across the stage, and you didn’t miss a beat. You were already bracing for the bad news.

Then, a slim figure in a long skirt and boots strode into the center of the circle, sighing like she’d just carried the weight of the world—and maybe she had. “Okay, kids. Listen up.” Every pair of eyes locked onto her as if she were delivering the prophecy of doom. “We’re postponing the auditions. Indefinitely.”

Her announcement hit like a gut punch, and the stage erupted into chaos. Whispers turned to complaints, and complaints turned to full-blown outrage. Seungmin cast a skeptical glance at Mrs. Baek, then at you and Hyunjin, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

What the hell was going on?

“All right, settle down,” Mrs. Baek said, slipping her glasses off and pinching the bridge of her nose with that practiced mix of authority and exhaustion only she could pull off. “Jun-ho, our sound engineer, has officially dropped out of college. And to make matters worse, the university has decided to cut funding for the theater department in favor of... sports.”

“You're shitting me.” Nahee’s voice sliced through the commotion like a whip. She quickly caught herself, mumbling, “Sorry... but seriously—”

“That’s so unfair!” another voice chimed in from the back, frustration rippling through the group like a shockwave. “Basketball and soccer aren’t the only things this university has going for it.”

“I get it, kids. Believe me, I tried.” Mrs. Baek’s tone softened, but her words were anything but comforting. “I went to the administration, pleaded our case... But unless we can find enough volunteers and funding, I’m afraid auditions are canceled. Indefinitely.”

It felt like a cruel joke. The theater had always been your sanctuary, the one place where you could shed your armor and just be. And now? It was slipping through your fingers.

When Mrs. Baek dismissed the group, some students stormed out in anger, others lingered, trying to process what had just happened. For you, Hyunjin, and Seungmin, the next logical step was the canteen. Food couldn’t fix this, but it was something.

“This is absurd. Now we're all supposed to close our eyes and applaud this nonsense?” Seungmin boomed as the three of you walked to the canteen. It was packed every day, regardless of the time of the day.

At a table outside, you spotted Sohee and Minho. Eunji, Changbin, Felix and Bangchan.

Just when you thought your day couldn't get any worse...

“Tell me about it, I'm so pissed off!” Everyone looked at you, hearing loud and clear about your discontent. All three of you pulled up a chair and you sat down facing Changbin.

“Someone's jumpy.” Sohee leaned across the table. “What's wrong? You three look like shit.”

“It turns out the university cut the theater’s funding in favor of sports.” Your voice was sharp, and your glare shot directly at Bangchan, who was busy texting like the world wasn’t crumbling around him. He looked up, one eyebrow raised in confusion, as if you’d just accused him of single-handedly ruining the arts.

You looked away, rage bubbling in your veins.

“That sucks.” Felix shot back with a supportive smile. “I know how important the theater is to you guys.”

“Everyone’s been working so hard,” Seungmin muttered, sinking into his chair like the weight of the news had finally crushed him. “It’s just... unfair.”

A heavy silence settled over the table, broken only by the sound of Bangchan’s nails tapping on his phone screen. You glanced his way, the sight of him completely disengaged making your blood boil.

“Is there nothing we can do?” Eunji twisted her lips, hopeful.

“Car wash?” Changbin suggested with a mischievous grin. “Classic fundraiser, right?”

“Sure,” you shot back, deadpan, “let’s exploit women for the sake of art.” Your glare could’ve leveled him then and there. Changbin leaned back in his chair, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Okay, fine. What about food?” Sohee jumped in, glancing at Minho for support. “Muffins, cupcakes, something simple. People love that stuff.”

Hyunjin's face lights up like a light bulb. “Felix makes brownies. Amazing brownies.”

Felix smirked, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I don’t wanna brag, but they’re basically legendary.”

“Alright, then.” Changbin grinned, pointing a finger gun between Felix and you. “You two make the brownies. And we,” he motioned to himself and Bangchan, “sell them.”

You and Bangchan exchange glances for a millisecond.

“I’ve got the perfect idea,”  he says, a wicked smile slipping from his lips.

You raise an eyebrow, laughing. “What? Are you going to sell brownies naked around campus?”

The grin widened, and that’s when you knew you should’ve kept your mouth shut.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

Felix had assured you he could handle everything, but your stubbornness wouldn’t let you sit this one out. If it was for the theater, you were all in. He handed over his famous brownie recipe like it was a national secret.

So, on Thursday, you got hands-on. Literally.

Eunji had come through with the shopping, and soon your dorm looked like a war zone—chocolate smudges on the counters, flour dusting the floor, and batter splattered in places you couldn’t quite explain. You only had a cramped space and a big dream of pulling this off.

You were just pouring the batter into a pan when a sharp knock at the door startled you. Wiping your hands on your skirt, you swung it open, expecting maybe Eunji or Hyunjin. Instead, there stood Bangchan, leaning casually against the door frame like he had nowhere else to be.

“Uh… hello?” You blinked, your brow furrowing. “What are you doing here?”

Bangchan stood back for a second, observing how exceptionally good you looked.

“So… newsflash,” he started, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You might wanna double that recipe.”

Confusion flashed across your eyes. “What do you mean?”

He straightened up, clearly enjoying your puzzled reaction. “I may have the entire basketball team to help out with the sale.”

Your jaw dropped as his words sank in. “You what?”

His grin widened at your disbelief. “You heard me. More hands, more sales. I figured we could use the hype.”

It was insane. But it was also brilliant. A rush of excitement shot through you, lighting up your face. “That’s… that’s fantastic!” you blurted, beaming before instinctively biting your lip to rein in your enthusiasm.

Bangchan tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. “Thought you’d like that.”

“Oh, shit. I'll tell Felix, we're going to need an extra oven.” You walked over to the coffee table, where your phone was.

Before you could dial, Bangchan’s voice cut through your focus. “You shouldn’t go there.” He was still standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression surprisingly earnest. “It’s a mess. Like, biohazard-level chaos.” You lose heart, trying to think of another alternative. “You can use my dorm. If you want.” He quickly adds the last sentence.

Your stomach dropped at the suggestion. The idea of stepping into Bangchan’s dorm felt like walking into enemy territory. Risky. Dangerous. Not worth the potential fallout. “It’s fine,” you said, waving him off. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it.”

But Bangchan leaned against the doorframe, his smirk resurfacing. “You sure? There are a lot of brownies to bake, and I don’t think you’ve got all night.”

As much as you hated to admit it, he wasn’t wrong. Time was slipping through your fingers like sand, and with the entire basketball team now involved, efficiency was critical. “Fine,” you muttered, hating the way the word tasted in your mouth. “But only if you help.”

“You don't have to ask twice.”

It turned out Bangchan’s “help” involved more than just offering his kitchen. He insisted on carrying every utensil, baking sheet, and ingredient across campus himself, as though showing off how capable he was. By the time you arrived at his so-called dorm, you’d pieced together another puzzle about him.

Rich, but not obnoxiously so. Still, his “dorm” was more like a chic little apartment, complete with a full kitchen, two bedrooms, and sleek decor that screamed privilege. The space was annoyingly Bangchan—polished, put together, and just distant enough to be intriguing.

“Cool place.” You muttered after he closed the door behind you. Scanning the room and trying not to sound impressed.

“Thanks.” he gave you a smile. “So, this is the kitchen.” He motioned to a modern setup that looked like it belonged in a Food Network show. Top class stuff. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” you replied, slipping your hands into your pockets. “Not just for the space but… you know, for helping.”

It was obvious that he was making this effort because the theater was important to his friends Seungmin and Hyunjin. Why else would he do all this? Still, you appreciated it.

His lips twitched into a grin. “Wow. Didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.” 

You rolled your eyes, biting back the retort bubbling at your tongue. Play nice. He’s helping. 

“Relax,” he added, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just kidding. There’s booze in the fridge, by the way. Help yourself.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you said, sidestepping the offer.

“I’ve gotta sort something out with the coach,” he said, grabbing his phone. “I’ll be back in 20. Think you’ll survive here alone?”

Honestly, being in his apartment without him sounded like the best possible scenario. You gave a small nod. “Yeah, no worries.”

With that, he left, and the door clicked shut behind him. You exhaled, a long breath that carried the weight of the past few days. Now you were in enemy territory, surrounded by his world, and somehow, that felt far more personal than it should.

How had this become your life? Baking brownies in Bangchan’s kitchen? It was almost as absurd as sleeping with him—a mistake you’d promised yourself you’d never make. But here you were, crossing one forbidden line after another.

You weren’t exactly a disaster in the kitchen, but you weren’t a pro either. Somehow, though, in thirty minutes flat, four trays of brownies were baking away in Bangchan’s fancy oven. The rest of the kitchen, however, looked like a war zone. Eggshells piled in the sink. Flour scattered across the floor. Chocolate batter smeared on your shirt. Your skirt? A masterpiece of handprints from raw dough. But hey, it was all for the sake of art—and funding.

While you whisked and poured, you couldn’t resist turning on your favorite song, What Is This Feeling from Wicked. Singing along word for word, you hit every high note with a grin. That song had landed you the role of Glinda in high school, and the nostalgia hit you square in the chest. Those were good times. Simpler times.

The chorus was still ringing in your ears as you crouched to scrub a stubborn chocolate stain on the floor. That’s when the door swung open, and Bangchan walked in, freezing mid-step as he surveyed the chaos.

“Holy shit. Are you all right?” he asked, his tone somewhere between amusement and genuine concern.

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest as you scrambled to turn off the music. In your rush, your phone slipped from your flour-dusted hands and landed on the counter with a soft thud. You straightened, cheeks flushing. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, brushing your hands on your already-ruined skirt. “Sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up, I promise.”

He looked around, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. His eyes flicked from the chaotic kitchen to you, taking in the state of your clothes. “You’ve got something… there,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the chocolate smear on your shoulder.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze. “As soon as I’m done here, I’ll head back to the dorm and clean this up.”

Bangchan tilted his head, clearly unimpressed with your plan. “I can lend you a shirt. Might make you feel more comfortable.”

“No, no. I’m fine,” you said, waving him off. “But thanks.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. Then, without hesitation, he reached behind his neck and yanked off the black shirt he was wearing, leaving him in nothing but his jeans and a devilish grin. “Here,” he said, holding the shirt out to you like it was the most casual thing in the world.

You blinked, completely caught off guard. “You know you could’ve just grabbed another shirt, right? Like, one you’re not currently wearing?”

He leaned in slightly, the grin widening in a way that made your stomach flip. “And where’s the fun in that?”

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at him, equal parts annoyed and flustered. His shirt hung in the air between you, a silent dare. Finally, you snatched it from his hand, muttering, “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told,” he replied, unbothered, and strolled over to the counter like he hadn’t just walked into the kitchen half-dressed.

After a few minutes, you walked back into the kitchen, now wearing Bangchan’s shirt. It hung a little loose on you, the soft fabric brushing against your skin and carrying a mix of fresh laundry and whatever cologne he used. Not that you noticed. Much.

Bangchan was at the sink, scrubbing a mixing bowl. His back was to you at first, but when he turned around, his gaze lingered a second too long before he coughed and looked back down. “Did you know,” he started, shaking his head with a teasing grin, “that you’re officially the world’s clumsiest cook? There’s brownie batter... under the sink.”

You glanced at the cabinet beneath the counter, then back at him. “Hey, I said I’d clean up,” you defended, marching into the kitchen with your head held high. “And for the record, I never claimed to be a good cook. I’m just trying to help.”

Bangchan barked out a laugh, drying his hands on a towel. “Help? No fucking way. You’re a disaster, love.”

You froze, raising an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?” You crossed your arms, the oversized sleeves of his shirt only slightly undermining your indignation. “I didn’t see you stepping up to bake anything.. Let’s see you handle a whisk without breaking something.”

He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, clearly enjoying himself. “Trust me, I’d still be better than whatever chaos you’ve got going on here.”

Your lips quirked into a slow smirk, and you reached for the bag of flour on the counter. “Oh yeah? Well, let’s see you handle this.” Before he could react, you scooped a handful of flour and tossed it right at him, the fine powder exploding across his chest like a smoke bomb.

Bangchan froze for a second, blinking down at the mess. Then, his lips curved into a wicked grin that should have been your warning. “Oh, it’s on now.”

With your hands on your lip, you realized that you had fucked up. “I'm sorry, I...”

Too late. In the blink of an eye, Bangchan scooped up the sugar and poured it all over your hair. You stared, half-shocked, half-impressed by his audacity. You parted your lips to fire back, but before a word could escape, the sound of his laughter erupted from deep in his chest.

“Really? Is this how it’s gonna go?” You grabbed the cocoa powder with a grin. Oh, he wanted a war? You were so ready. “Bring it on,” you shot back, face lighting up with mischief. 

You were almost halfway to smearing him with chocolate when his hand shot out and stopped yours midair. The cocoa slipped through your fingers, and just like that, your plan hit the ground.

Then, you collided—chest to chest. Bangchan wasn’t laughing anymore, and you could feel the shift in the air, the heat between you two now undeniable. His lips curled into that damn smirk, the one that told you everything. Your heart was racing, but the thought of pulling away didn’t even cross your mind. The only question now was who was going to make the first move.

A silent battle passed between you two. His gaze locked onto yours, sensing the shift in your expression—less defiant, more... willing. And just like that, the tension morphed into something else, something undeniable.

Without hesitation, you leaned in, your lips brushing his. Bangchan’s breath hitched, a soft grunt escaping him at the sudden contact. Your hands, still coated with the remnants of your baking disaster, slid over his broad shoulders. You were a mess, sugar and flour everywhere, but somehow, it made everything feel a little more real. And Bangchan? He didn’t seem to mind one bit.

All he seemed to care about was having your lips on his. And fuck, you could feel how much he wanted it.

Bangchan grabbed your ass possessively, squeezing it and making a raspy moan escape your lips. You pushed him against the wall, without detaching your lips, savoring how the softness of his lips felt like cotton candy.

When you finally broke away, your chests heaving, your fingers still pressed into his skin, you met his gaze. His chest rose and fell beneath your touch, and you could feel the pull between you intensify again, magnetic.

“I should probably clean up this mess.” your voice broke the tension, but the realization hit harder than it should’ve. Bangchan was clearly fed up with your habit of diving in and then ghosting the consequences. 

“Don’t you dare.” his voice was low, the words like a command you weren’t about to ignore. His eyes locked with yours—intense. “You want this.” his lips brushed against yours, a tease that made your heart leap, while his words hung heavy in the air. “I know you do.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears, drowning out everything but him.

“Bangchan.” You whispered, barely able to breathe. The heat from his hardness spread like wildfire, and your body seemed to betray you. “We can’t.” you licked your lips—stupid, because he was already there, sealing your protest with a sloppy kiss, stealing that last ounce of restraint.

You were losing it. Why did he have to be so... goddamn good at this?

“Oh yeah?” he pulled away, just enough to make you regret the distance. “Tell me one good reason. Just one.”

You snorted, doing everything you could to hold it together, but the pull between you was undeniable. “Please.”

He tilted his head, lips twitching like he wanted to argue, but instead he closed his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath. “Fine,” he grumbled, walking away, but the air between you two still crackled.

The rest of the kitchen cleanup was like some strange form of punishment. You moved in sync, two people acting like they hadn’t just burned down every ounce of decorum in the room. The silence was deafening, the kind of awkward that made you wish you could pull the floor open and swallow you whole. But instead, you just scrubbed harder, hoping it’d drown out the thundering thoughts in your head.

He pulled away, no jokes, no teasing—just silence. It was like a switch had flipped, and the tension that had once sparked between you now lay dormant, suffocating. You didn't know if you hated the quiet or if you hated yourself more for letting things go as far as they had.

When everything was finally done, he still helped you carry your things to the dorm, his touch lingering just a little too long as he adjusted the bag over your shoulder. You were too busy battling the whirlwind of your own thoughts, replaying every moment, every look, and cursing both him and yourself for what you’d just crossed into.

You hated how easy it had been. How natural. And you hated even more that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to regret it—at least, not yet.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4 @chrizrizz @meerabmalik

[gf2bellamy]

Saw that you're still taking requests so I wanted to ask if you could write something with bau!reader and s4!spencer reid so she has a crush on him but he's kinda oblivious to it so he tries to help set her up with Morgan kinda like he did in that one delete scene from season 2 about him and emily but then he realizes he likes her after she goes on a date with Morgan so he has to sabotage all the wingmanning he’s done and they end up together 😭

date — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of rats? a/n: thank you so much for your request !! <3 i actually had to look that scene up and omg ?? i wish they didn't delete it. its so funny and cute 😭 i hope you like this !! <33

You leaned casually against Derek’s desk, barely perched on the edge, the hard surface pressing into the back of your thighs. He sat comfortably in his chair, his usual charming grin firmly in place as he listened to you argue with him.

"Paris isn't that nice," you said with an exaggerated eye roll, your voice playful. "It's not as romantic as everyone says."

Derek raised an eyebrow, the teasing glint in his eyes unmistakable. "Are you serious? It's literally called the 'City of Love,' sweetheart. Who wouldn't want to go there?"

You leaned in slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at your lips. "Have you even heard about the rats?" Your eyebrow lifted in challenge, daring him to argue.

Derek chuckled, completely unfazed. "Rats? It’s a big city, babe. There are always rats. Doesn't change the fact that it's beautiful."

You snorted, crossing your arms as you pushed off his desk. "Yeah? You won’t be saying that when you're on a date and one runs up your leg." With a satisfied smile, you turned on your heel and walked back to your desk.

Spencer, seated nearby, glanced up just in time to catch the smile Derek threw your way. His fingers stilled on the page of the book he was flipping through,his eyes lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

Meanwhile, you stood beside your desk, staring at your empty coffee mug as a yawn escaped your lips. Rubbing your eyes, you stretched, feeling the slight ache in your muscles.

"Anyone want coffee?" you called out, glancing around at the three remaining people in the room.

Emily, still focused on her computer, glanced up briefly. “I’ll take one,” she said, offering you a small but warm smile.

The two men, however, were preoccupied with their own work. Derek didn’t even look up as he shook his head. “No thanks, sweetheart.”

Spencer, his eyes scanning over a case file, simply replied, “I’m good, thanks.”

You nodded, mentally noting their responses before turning on your heel and making your way toward the break room. The soft click of your shoes faded as you disappeared down the hall.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Spencer hesitated for a moment before shifting slightly in his chair, his gaze flicking toward Derek.

Derek, still absorbed in his files, felt the stare before he even looked up. With a smirk, he raised an eyebrow. “You got something to say, Reid, or are you just gonna keep staring?”

Spencer twirled his pen between his fingers, his expression unreadable as he carefully chose his words. "You smile a lot when you’re talking to her."

Derek’s grin faltered—just for a fraction of a second—before he leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest.

Emily, who had been absorbed in her work just moments ago, was now fully tuned into the conversation, grinning as she watched Derek’s eyebrows furrow at Spencer.

“So…?” Derek challenged, tilting his head slightly. "Are you saying I’m interested in her?" His voice was casual, but there was an edge to it—like he was daring Spencer to say it outright.

Spencer merely shrugged, his expression unreadable. "She was sitting at your desk. Which she does a lot," he pointed out, his tone matter-of-fact. "She also teases you more than anyone else. And when you talk to her, you lean in. You laugh more. Your body language is open, relaxed." He paused, adjusting his grip on the pen. "Statistically speaking, those are common indicators of attraction."

Derek let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head as he ran a hand over his jaw. "Damn, Dr.Reid. You been profiling me?"

Spencer blinked. "You profile me all the time," he countered without missing a beat.

Emily snickered under her breath, clearly enjoying the exchange. "He’s got a point," she teased, smirking at Derek.

Derek exhaled dramatically, throwing his hands up. "She’s funny, she’s smart, and yeah, she’s easy on the eyes. ," he admitted. "But that doesn’t mean anything." he added slowly.

Spencer tapped his pen against his desk before speaking. "You should ask her out on a date."

Derek raised his eyebrows, caught completely off guard. He let out a short laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Wait, hold up—you are not seriously giving me dating advice right now." He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

Spencer merely shrugged, unfazed. "Why not?"

Derek scoffed. "Because you don’t date. You read about dating. That’s not the same thing." He gestured toward him. "I mean, I respect you, kid, but unless you’ve been secretly taking girls out and I just didn’t notice, I don’t know if you’re the best wingman for this conversation."

Spencer’s lips twitched like he might argue, but instead, he just tilted his head slightly, studying Derek. "That doesn’t mean I don’t understand attraction," he countered.

Derek shook his head, muttering under his breath, "Unbelievable."

Spencer, ignoring him, continued, "So why haven’t you asked her out?"

Derek exhaled, drumming his fingers against his desk. "I don’t know, man. She’s not just some girl you take out for drinks and flirt with at the bar. She’s…" He trailed off, searching for the right words. "She’s got depth. She’s got layers. And I don’t think she sees me as anything more than just… a friend."

Spencer considered that, his grip on his pen tightening slightly. "I think you underestimate yourself."

Before Derek could respond, Emily, who had been watching the exchange, let out an exaggerated sigh. "Wow, would you just go ask her out already?" She rolled her eyes. "I mean, it’s worth a try, don’t you think?"

Derek glanced at Spencer, who for once, didn’t have anything to add.

For the first time in a long time, Derek Morgan was actually thinking about it.

Before either of them could say anything else, the bullpen doors swung open, and you walked back in, two coffee cups in hand. Almost instantly, the air in the room shifted. Papers rustled, chairs creaked, and suddenly, both men were very focused on their work. Emily hid her smirk behind her coffee as you approached, handing her the second cup. 

You glanced between them, your brow furrowing slightly. It was too quiet. You settled into your chair and got back to work, unaware of the two pairs of eyes that flickered toward you in quiet contemplation. 

Derek tapped his pen against his desk, stealing glances at you every so often, as if weighing something in his mind. 

Spencer, on the other hand, didn’t look away as quickly. His fingers hovered over the pages of his case file, but he wasn’t reading anymore. Instead, he was studying the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the way your brows knitted together in concentration, the way you absentmindedly chewed on your lip while reviewing something on your screen. 

Emily, watching all of this unfold, took another sip of her coffee and shook her head. "Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath. 

Neither of them heard her.  

Two hours later, the team began packing up, the bullpen emptying as everyone prepared to head home. You stepped into the elevator, the long day weighing on you, and let out a sigh as you walked toward your car in the dimly lit parking lot. 

Just as you reached for your keys, a voice called out behind you. 

"Hey, I need to ask you something." 

You turned to see Derek approaching. Leaning against your car, you suppressed a yawn, giving him a small, tired smile. "Hurry up, or I’ll fall asleep right here," you teased, rubbing your eyes. 

Derek chuckled, but there was something different about his expression—something more serious beneath the usual charm. He hesitated for only a second before finally saying, "How about dinner? Just you and me." 

For a moment, you just stared at him, surprised. You hadn’t expected this—not from Derek. Sure, he flirted with you, but he flirted with everyone. This was unexpected. 

Your instinct was to hesitate, to sort through the sudden rush of emotions that flooded your mind. But before you could respond, movement near the entrance of the building caught your attention. 

Spencer. 

He stepped outside, his bag slung over his shoulder. His gaze landed on you, and for a brief second, the two of you locked eyes. His expression was unreadable at first, but then—softly, almost hesitantly—he smiled. 

And then he kept walking. 

You felt your stomach twist. 

Spencer. He was the one who had been lingering in your thoughts, the one whose voice you found yourself seeking out, the one who made your heart race in ways you didn’t fully understand. But despite everything, nothing had ever happened. 

Maybe nothing ever would. 

Maybe Derek was right there, right now, offering you something tangible. 

So before you could overthink it, you looked back at Derek, forcing a small smile. "Sure," you said. 

Derek’s grin widened, as if he hadn’t considered the possibility that you might actually say yes. "Alright, then. Tomorrow?" 

"Tomorrow," you confirmed, even as your eyes flickered, just for a second, toward Spencer’s retreating figure. 

Two days later, you rushed through the doors of the BAU, the cool morning air still clinging to your skin as you made your way toward the elevators. A warm coffee sat snug in your hands. 

As you stood waiting, you heard footsteps—familiar ones. Ones you could recognize anywhere. 

"Good morning," Spencer’s voice came softly beside you. 

You turned to see him standing there, clutching the strap of his bag, his own coffee in hand. 

"Morning, Spencer," you said, offering him a small smile. 

The two of you stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the faint hum of the building waking up around you. Then, Spencer shifted slightly, glancing at you. 

"How was your day yesterday?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee. 

You were a profiler. You knew exactly what he was really asking. 

"Derek told you about the date," you said simply, watching him carefully. 

Spencer’s lips quirked up in a small, slightly embarrassed smile, his gaze flickering to the elevator doors just as they slid open.

He didn’t deny it. 

You stepped inside together. You exhaled softly, pressing the button for your floor before finally answering. 

"It was nice," you said, keeping your tone light. 

It wasn’t a lie. Derek had been charming, attentive, and easy to talk to. The evening had been pleasant. But that was all it was. Nice. 

You and Derek had come to the same conclusion: you were better off as friends. 

The entire date had felt more like two friends hanging out than anything remotely romantic. Somewhere around the halfway mark, you'd both silently agreed on it. And after that, the night had been easy—filled with laughter and inside jokes, but nothing more. 

You were relieved, honestly. Because deep down, you knew your heart had never really been in it. 

Not when it still raced just from standing next to Spencer. 

"That's good," Spencer said, nodding slightly. His smile was soft, polite—maybe even a little forced—but you didn't let yourself dwell on it. 

The elevator doors slid open, and as you stepped forward, you felt his eyes linger on you for just a second longer than necessary before he followed behind. 

The bullpen was already alive with the usual morning energy—phones ringing and papers shuffling. Derek glanced up from his desk, catching your eye. He gave you a knowing grin, one that said, We’re good, right? 

You returned it with an easy smile. Yeah, we’re good. 

Emily flicked her gaze between you and Spencer as you both walked in. She arched an eyebrow but said nothing, instead sipping her coffee with an amused smirk. 

You were having a normal, uneventful day at work. But the man sitting across from you? He was having anything but. 

Spencer’s mind hadn’t been able to settle since that brief moment in the elevator. The words you had said—simple, casual—had been looping in his head on an endless repeat. 

"It was nice." 

That was all. No excitement, no details, no hint of anything deeper. 

But what did that mean? Were you and Derek together now? Had he taken you to some dimly lit restaurant with expensive food and soft music? Had he-

Spencer clenched his jaw and forced himself to stop spiraling. He knew where this was leading.

He didn’t want to think about it anymore. But it was impossible not to. The truth was starting to settle like a heavy weight in his chest, and as much as he tried to shove it down, it refused to stay buried.

He wanted to be the one in Derek’s position. 

And as he sat there, gripping his pen a little too tightly, he realized just how badly he wanted that. 

His eyes flickered up, drawn to the sound of your laugh—light, effortless, the kind of sound he could pick out in a crowded room. You were standing next to Derek’s desk, handing him a file as you chuckled at something he’d said. Derek grinned, throwing a comment back at you, easy as always. 

Spencer swallowed hard, his throat dry. His stomach twisted with an emotion he couldn’t quite put a name to—not until now. He had read about this before, studied it in textbooks and papers, knowing the psychology behind it, the theories that tried to explain why emotions sometimes crept up on you when you least expected them. Why your heart could flip at the smallest touch, or your mind could spiral at the thought of someone you cared about turning their attention to someone else.

He could list a dozen different theories—explain this away with biology, with brain chemistry. He could tell himself that this was just a byproduct of human connection.

But none of that mattered. Because no amount of rationalizing, no number of facts, no cold, clinical analysis of his brain could change the truth.

This wasn’t just some passing feeling.

He was jealous.

And the realization hit him like a freight train. Because the truth was, he wasn’t just jealous.

Spencer Reid was in love with you.

And now? 

Now it seemed like it was too late to do anything. 

Because as much as he wanted to be the one taking you on dates and laughing with you the next day, he wasn’t. 

Derek was. 

And Spencer had no one to blame for that but himself. 

You, meanwhile, were oblivious to his internal struggle. Your caffeine addiction had long since become a well-known part of your routine. Without even thinking, you moved toward the break room, your body acting on autopilot as you reached for another cup of coffee—was it your third or fourth today? You couldn’t even keep track anymore.

Spencer, still seated at his desk, saw his moment.

He grabbed his own mug and, without thinking too much about it, followed you. 

As he stepped inside the break room, he saw you standing at the coffee machine, waiting for the dark liquid to fill your cup. 

"Work is killing me," you muttered, not even turning around as you sensed his presence. 

Spencer let out a small breath of amusement. "I can help you if you want," he offered, setting his mug down on the counter beside you. 

You finally glanced up at him, your lips curling into a soft smile. "No, that’s fine, Spencer. But thank you." 

You turned back to your coffee, but you weren’t as focused on it as you pretended to be. Your heart was doing that stupid thing again — pounding a little too fast, your pulse betraying you. 

You didn’t know that his was doing the same. 

Spencer watched as you took a small step back, your hands wrapped around your coffee mug, while he moved forward to place his own under the machine. The steady drip of coffee filled the silence between you. 

Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled from his lips. 

“Did Derek take you to that restaurant on Osborn Street ?” 

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Yeah, he did,” you said slowly, tilting your head as you studied him. “Why?” 

The moment the question left your mouth, Spencer felt warmth creeping up his neck. Embarrassment? Frustration? He wasn’t sure. 

He clenched his jaw slightly, his fingers tightening around the edge of the counter as another sentence—one he barely had time to think through—slipped past his lips. 

“He usually takes his dates there.” As soon as he said it, he bit his tongue, regretting it instantly. 

Why would he say that? 

It sounded… wrong. Like he was implying you were just another name on a list for Derek. And if you were dating, wouldn’t that make you upset? Shouldn’t he be worried that you’d storm off and confront Derek about it? 

But then another thought crept in—one that he wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge. 

Would it really be such a bad thing if you did get mad at Derek? 

While Spencer spiraled through a hundred different scenarios in his head, you were left staring at him, your coffee now sitting untouched on the counter. 

Mouth slightly agape, you processed what he had just said. 

You weren’t mad. Not at all. 

You just hadn’t expected Spencer Reid—the careful, logical, always-thinks-before-he-speaks Spencer—to say something so… passive-aggressive. 

The grin that was forming on your face was hard to suppress, but you were failing miserably. The little twitch at the corners of your lips was telling on you. 

Spencer wasn’t looking at you to notice it. Instead, he was focused on his mug, holding it in his hands like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. 

"Spencer," you said, your voice a little lighter as you tilted your head at him. 

Spencer glanced at you from the side, his expression a mix of embarrassment and nervousness. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that, I—" 

But you cut him off, giving him a soft smile. "Me and Derek are just friends," you said. 

Spencer froze, his head whipping toward you so fast that you actually flinched, worried he might give himself whiplash. "What? But you went on a date—" His voice trailed off, his confusion evident. 

"Yeah," you said with a casual shrug, "and we decided we were better off as friends." 

As the words left your mouth, a surge of hope filled your chest. Hope that maybe, just maybe, Spencer's earlier remark had been born from jealousy.

Because it sure seemed like it. 

Spencer’s lips quirked upward, a soft but genuine smile spreading across his face. "Oh, I’m sorry," he said, but there was no real apology in his tone. It was teasing, lighthearted—almost as if he had been waiting for you to say those words. 

You couldn’t help it. A grin spread across your face, matching his. 

"Yeah, sure you are," you replied, picking up your own coffee mug and taking a sip, feeling the warmth of the drink seep through your hands. 

Spencer mirrored you, lifting his mug to his lips, though his eyes stayed on you a little longer than necessary.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Spencer’s gaze lingered on you as you set your coffee down, his eyes searching yours for a hint of what you were thinking. 

And then, without even thinking, his words tumbled out. “You know,” he began, his voice quieter this time, "I wasn’t asking about Derek because I was just curious." 

You glanced at him, feeling the beat of your heart quicken. Was he about to say what you thought he was? 

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly flustered, his eyes not meeting yours now. “I mean, I—uh—just wanted to know because…” He trailed off, swallowing, his words uncertain but his intentions clear. 

You raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly, your voice teasing but gentle. "Because…?" You waited, your breath caught in your throat as you watched him, waiting for him to finish his thought. 

Spencer took a deep breath. “I don’t know what it is about you, but every time I’m around you, I just—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. “You make everything feel different. I’ve never really felt this way before, not like this." He laughed nervously. "And I know this probably sounds insane, but I think I might like you. A lot." 

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and for a moment, you were speechless.You took a step closer, your hand gently resting on the counter between you two. “Spencer,” you said softly, your voice warm. "I think I like you too. A lot." 

His face broke into a relieved smile.“So, uh, does this mean…?” He hesitated, but there was a glimmer of hope in his expression. 

You smiled at him, your eyes glinting with something playful and genuine. “I think it means you owe me a real date,” you teased, your heart pounding in your chest. 

Spencer blinked, his eyes widening slightly before a soft, almost bashful grin spread across his face. “A… date?” he echoed, as though he were processing the word for the first time, his voice a little quieter than usual. “Uh, I mean… yeah. I can, um, I can do that.” He shifted his weight nervously, stepping closer with a gentle hesitation. “Maybe...maybe dinner this weekend? If that’s okay?”

You nodded, your excitement rising with each word he said. “That sounds perfect.”

[someprettyname]

yall gotta learn how to ruin your own damn birthday party from my father, ruins the excitement and anticipation of those organizing better than if someone else ruins your party <3

[secondpersonpoetry]

hi! oh my goodness. i am SO sorry i didn’t say anything earlier. i did read everything a couple days ago, and i Have been chewing on it, rotating it in my mind, etc etc…..and the graphic has been my phone lockscreen since i first read it!!!!!

frankly i am obsessed and have also been a little frazzled this month lol. saw your post late because of the general whirlwind that is december and then couldn’t quite get my thoughts into sufficient words n got worried “oh no would it be weird to say something now…..” which is incredibly silly in retrospect, so sorry for that. 

i’m relatively new to hockey fandom and the Narratives don’t always quite click for me (yet, at least :)) because i don’t know all of the lore for a lot of the popular pairings haha, so it means a lot that you’ve taken time out of your day to break things down for me and share your own thoughts <3 tysm. again, super sorry for the delayed response. i’m very sorry if you felt as though you’d wasted your time or something along those lines :’) just wanted to let you know that i really appreciate you and the time it took you to get everything down and make the graphic!!!! and like i can’t overstate how much your tags both over here and on your other blog have helped me to Get It since the start of this season, so thank you.

but now the house is quiet, the in-laws are gone, and no new work stuff until january :) so i can finally get some stuff down. every point you brought up hits in it own way but gosh you are very incredibly right the mcstrome of it all…..that’s sort of the lens i’ve been listening to the song through since you mentioned it.

the golden boy and the “draft bust” and the ever present notion of “isn’t it all about old friends? like everything? all of it?”.  like idk looking back on a bestfriendship from when you were a teenager that was Super intense and the lines were blurred and maybe realizing (if you hadn’t had the words or the “guts” or awareness or wtv to put a name to it at that point in your life) that y’all were a smidge more than just friends. 

best friends forever until you just aren’t! growing up and growing apart. it’s just the way things go but it can and will ache for a damn long time! you think you’re over it until their birthday or the holidays roll around and you wonder in a distant sort of way who they’re spending it with. what you would’ve hypothetically gotten them as a present if you still spoke. what do they even like nowadays, anyway?

maybe having the friendship end subtly. going from playing and traveling together and living in one another’s pockets to 2,080 miles of distance? (i may have my timeline/details confused here so sorry in advance) texting as much as you can at first but he’s a phenom he’s mcjesus he’s the next in line he’s expected to win the cup with his new team and end the drought for Canada. and they have him now but he was yours first, wasn’t he? but it’s fine. because you’re busy too. you’re captaining the team now. you’re gonna get the memorial cup that he couldn’t. it’s fine. you’re fine. you don’t even have time to worry about it anyway. 

one conversation a week turns to one a month turns to once in a blue moon turns to stale words until it goes cold. these days you can’t quite seem to remember who ended things, but does it really matter all that much now?

or maybe it doesn’t end like that at all. maybe it ends in a flurry of angry words and digs in some or other of the endless hotel rooms you’ve shared together over the years. who knows!

and that’s not even getting into the rest of the 2015 draft class. or the ld19 of it all! ooh hoo hoo. you grew up with him but he’s not your waiting room. he grew up with you but he’ll grow “old” (end his career) with someone else. and isn’t that just something! 

i don’t think it’s totally them, but sort of the sentiment of “I hope you get everything you ever wanted and I hope I never hear a word about it.” I want one ticket off of your carousel!!!! merry christmas, please don’t call!!!!!!!

dylan being sent up and down and traded around until finally landing in washington, a place where he is clearly at home and LOVED for the guy and player he is!!!!!!!! watching a game and seeing all the strome jerseys in the crowd……..wagh.

all that said. some other songs that are mcstrome to me in various ways: hot & heavy by lucy dacus (lol kinda the whole song). before the world was big by girlpool (“i just miss how it felt standing next to you wearing matching [jerseys? sweaters?] before the world was big”). happiness by Taylor swift (“i guess it’s the price i pay for seven years in heaven”), cut your bangs by radiator hospital (maybe? possibly? unsure. i like the whole dog thing there). i’m so glad i feel this way about you by insignificant other (!!!!!). there are so many THEM lyrics in there……..waough.

anyway. other things off the top of my head: 2015 connor specifically saying something like “hey let’s wait a minute so we can see this” to stand by the stage when dylan was getting drafted after him. MAN. you reminded me of the fact that they couldn’t even make eye contact at the handshake line!!!!!!!!! they didn’t go to each other’s weddings!!!!!!!!!! (do you think once upon a time they ever thought they’d being each other’s best man?). just a couple months ago dylan liking the tweet of connor getting that goal during the playoffs!!!!!!!! makes you wonder if he texted him………..

lol this was all over the place and i was probably wrong on some things and there’s SO much more that someone else could say way more eloquently, but i digress. i dunno everything about them is so nuts to me!!!!! needless to say i will be incredibly sat for the game january 21 🙂‍↕️

thank you again for your time :) hope you have a good one and a happy rest of the holiday season! <3333333

what a lovely message to receive 🥰😭🥹 i had to break it up into chunks because i couldn't sit down to read all of it at once without just. bouncing right back up and shrieking. i am also at heart terribly shy so i understand the struggle but it is never too late to say something <3 you are always welcome here

first!!! i love sharing!! i think most of hockey tumblr loves to see people finding out the Lore for the first time and the wonderful thing about hockey is that. it keeps going on. so there's years and years and generations and generations and always something new to learn about. i've learned to just not be afraid to ask!!! between different teams and players i'm always discovering new narratives (learning about the sharks old man yaoi rn... cbj rarepairs...)

no... to my heart's despair... you have the timeline right. i think in the best most tragic sense there's a mcstrome narrative where it is truly that nothing went wrong. the love was there. we couldn't do enough to save it because we didn't see it slipping away. i didn't notice when you didn't call until you never did. i don't know you now but i still remember when i did, do you?

HE'S NOT YOUR WAITING ROOM?? passing out. i do see "i hope you get everything you ever wanted and i hope i never hear a word about it" as them because!! they didn't go to each other's weddings!!! i don't wish you harm but i'm not going to put myself through that!! i hope you're happy and i'm never going to look on purpose.

i love dylan strome so much and the best part is that they all love him so much too. he wore a cool vintage ovechkin jacket!! and got slapped in the face with a tortilla!! he loves to gently rag on the rookies!! it just takes some time, everything'll be just fine. you're only on the middle of the ride.

OKAY WHEN I READ THIS PART I SCREAMED BECAUSE I DO HAVE A MCSTROME PLAYLIST AND!!!! HOT & HEAVY BY LUCY DACUS IS IN FACT ON IT!!! SO IS CUT YOUR BANGS (BUT BY GIRLPOOL SO DOUBLE JINX)!!!! i have dorothea by taylor swift on there but i don't know happiness so i'll have to give all the other songs a listen. mostly i just shrieked because i was like NO YOU GOT THE VIBES EXACTLY

🧠〰️🧠 truly the mind meld happening here. the handshake line. the mutual wedding non-invitations. i won't block your number or your name on twitter i just hope i don't see it come up on screen!! i do think that we got confirmation the last time they played each other that dylan did text him to say congrats on a milestone but i would have to check the archives

p.s. i think you said it perfectly eloquently :) what matters is that you said it at all and i was delighted to read it 💕

[italiangirlcoresblog]

main masterlist \\ lando masterlist

-----------------••✩🍪☕️🩹✩••----------------

𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞

✩ : everyone has been speculating about a possible relationship between you and lando, but neither of you ever confirmed anything — until the infamous hard launch

𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 : @ tatemcrae on ig

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : lando norris

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : humor, mature

✍︎ : sports car has my heart and soul, so might as well give it a smau too

OR

me still procrastinating lando's fic

-------------------------❦︎-------------------------

itsynbitch

Liked by oliviarodrigo, chappellroan, lando and 229,997 others

itsynbitch it's lights out and away we go

View all 963 comments

oliviarodrigo can't wait 😍

♥︎ by itsynbitch

username1 OMG???

username2 let's take a few steps back shall we

username3 i'm so confused

username4 i think we all are

username5 wait what did i miss

username6 HOW DID WE GET HERE

username7 biker y/n!?

username8 more like f1 y/n with that caption

username9 wdym

username10 it's the line croft always says at the start of the races

username11 imagine if it's the theme for her new album

username12 girl I WISH

username13 hey siri, how to become the guy in this reel?

username14 reel ❌️ real ✅️

username15 i hope he knows how lucky he is

♥︎ by lando

username16 DAMN ALRIGHT HAHAHA

username17 i wasn't expecting that

username18 he's not wrong tho

username19 lando we see you brother

username20 you're all of us

username21 whatever this means i'm here for it

chappellroan ICON

♥︎ by itsynbitch

itsynbitch

Liked by oliviarodrigo, chappellroan, lando and 1,240,114 others

itsynbitch "2 hands" OUT THIS FRIDAY

stay tuned 🧡

View all 13,437 comments

username22 this did something to me

username23 you mean i have to wait a WHOLE WEEK for this masterpiece?

username24 technically it's just four days ☝️🤓

username25 still way too long 😔

username26 screw my finals, y/n's new single release date just dropped

itsynbitch keep studying kids

username27 if y/n says it, we shall comply

username28 i'd have all straight As if she asked me to

username29 divided by countries, united by mommy issues

lando orange suits you

♥︎ by itsynbitch

itsynbitch my favorite 🧡

username30 chat are they flirting in broad daylight

username31 she meant the color... RIGHT?

username32 y/n babe that was pretty misunderstandable

username33 WHY ARE WE IGNORING LANDO’S COMMENT HELLO

username34 my man just wanted to shoot his shot

username35 honestly if i were him i'd go for it too

username36 papaya reference anyone!?

username37 i was literally thinking the same thing

username38 i have no one to talk to about this

username39 same 😭

username40 mother delivered as always

username41 LET'S GO 🏎💨

username42 buckle up, we're in for one crazy ass ride

f1gossippofficial

69,654 likes

f1gossippofficial some clips from y/n's tiktok. does the car look familiar to you? 👀

View all 7,710 comments

username43 that's a whole ass mclaren right there

username44 that's not just ANY mclaren that's LANDO’S mclaren

username45 according to who?

username46 there's literally his number printed on it 💀

username47 "iT CouLD Be a CoiNCiDeNCe" no it couldn't shut up

username48 you people really need to chill

username49 just stating the obvious

username50 y/n x mclaren collab is something i didn't know i needed

username51 what a great time to be fan of both

username52 fr we're being blessed with this content

username53 this is great and all but are we not gonna talk about lando's "good taste in cars"?

username54 I WAS HOPING SOMEONE WOULD MENTION IT

username55 i knew you'd bring this up lol

username56 and y/n replying "well thank you" like AAAAA

username57 what's so special about it

username58 1. we got more y/n x lando content and 2. THEY WERE OBVIOUSLY FLIRTING

username59 norris fangirl detected, opinion rejected

username60 the way i could smell the comments from a mile away

username61 cry about it

lando

♫︎ y/n • 2 hands [E]

Liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, itsynbitch and 877,168 others

lando bangher

View all 11,909 comments

oscarpiastri mate i think you misspelled it

lando no i didn't

username62 oscar trying to gentle parent lando out of his dyslexia

username63 dorks

username64 as a landoscar fan this is everything

username65 pause. rewind. NO HE DIDN'T

username66 did what

username67 GUYS IT'S BANG—HER

username68 omg are you serious

username69 oh he was smooth with it

username70 if this is about y/n i swear

username71 WHY WOULD IT BE

username72 idk maybe because he used her song???

username73 some of you are actually sick

carlossainz55 🤨

username74 carlos is just as confused as us

username75 lando sponsoring his girlfriend's single 🥰

username76 WHAT ARE THEY TOGETHER!?

username77 no they're not stop assuming things it's weird af

username78 then why would he even use it?

username79 because it is, in fact, a banger, AND HE JUST FUCKING MISSPELLED IT

username80 ok but what about y/n also being in the likes

username81 e x a c t l y

username82 everyone arguing in the comments:

me vibing to 2 hands: 💃💃💃

itsynbitch

Liked by lando, oliviarodrigo, chappellroan and 891,472 others

itsynbitch life lately ✨️✨️✨️

View all 12,670 comments

username83 man lando did not waste one second

username84 he came here faster than he won in singapore

username85 he was in the likes before y/n even posted

username86 miss gurl that's a lot of orange

username87 @ mclaren just take her as your ambassador already

mclaren we'll think about it 😉

username88 ADMIN WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

username89 y/n feeding us crumbs until the big reveal

username90 me acting surprised when she'll confirm the lando rumors: 😮

username91 no way you've been banging dating in secret who would've thought right

username92 i can't with y'all 😭

username93 don't mind me just staring at the jacket in the first slide and trying to understand where i've seen it before

username94 i knew it looked familiar

username95 born to say lando, forced to stay silent and act clueless

username96 IT'S SO OBVIOUS IT'S PAINFUL

username97 pros and cons of being a lando fangirl

username98 truly a blessing and a curse 😔

username99 y/n might have good taste in cars but lando sure as hell got good taste in women

username100 you can't really go wrong with her can you?

username101 i fear she's everybody's type

f1gossippofficial

97,407 likes

f1gossippofficial 🚨 BREAKING: lando norris seen carrying the same rhode lip phone case shown in y/n's story before they were caught partying together by a fan

WATCH VIDEO ▶️

View all 8,325 comments

username102 god forbid someone else other than her has a rhode lip phone case

username103 you're pushing it way too far now

username104 i'll never understand why we normalized shoving our phones in famous people's faces

username105 lando literally ran away poor baby

username106 the way they immediately tried to hide when they saw the camera

username107 they both looked so uncomfortable please leave them alone

username108 if they want to keep their relationship secret they clearly have their reasons

username109 listen they're probably not even dating but you decided they are and you forced it on them

username110 stop playing matchmaker for them it's getting out of hand

username111 i was getting all excited about them as a couple but then i opened the comments

username112 hey at least now we know they're together

username113 idc what everybody else says a win is a win

username114 imagine them scrolling through these and laughing at how dumb you all sound

username115 lando was probably busy remixing y/n's songs at the club

itsynbitch

♫︎ y/n • sports car

Liked by lando, oliviarodrigo, chappellroan and 2,377,677 others

itsynbitch "sports car" song and mv 🏎🏁 OUT NOW

~ it was a pleasure working with you @ lando

View all 17,809 comments

username116 so... i wasn't exactly expecting all of that

username117 I THOUGHT SHE ACCIDENTALLY LEAKED A SEX TAPE WTF

username118 how else do you wanna call it?

username119 okay but i don't think this was accidental 😃

username120 are we paying for this?

username121 so lando did start onlyfans after all

username122 he's multi-tasking

username123 f1 driver by day, whore by night

username124 i might've seen a reflection of lando’s weenie in the window and i fear the image is now stuck in my head forever

oscarpiastri same

carlossainz55 yeah

maxverstappen1 i agree

charles_leclerc unfortunately

username125 I'M CRYING

username126 the drivers being traumatized for life: a series

lando pleasure's mine @ itsynbitch

itsynbitch i know

♥︎ by lando

username127 WE KNOW TOO

username128 she's the man in the relationship

username129 how do i achieve this level of mothering?

username130 they really uh-uhed in it huh

username131 💀💀💀

username132 the fact that they probably weren't even faking it

itsynbitch take the "probably" out

username133 GIRL

username134 hard launch ❌️ hard while launching ✅️

username135 HAHAHAHAHA

lando good one

username136 boy what 😭

lando

Liked by itsynbitch, carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and 1,081,828 others

lando finally made it on main

View all 14,994 comments

username137 "finally" mf wanted to simp over his girlfriend in public so bad

username138 can't blame him tbh

username139 MY SHIP HAS OFFICIALLY SAILED

username140 wasn't the mv clear enough 🤨

username141 i mean all singers do that

username142 ... no?

username143 they could've been just banging buddies

username144 banging buddies 💀

lando i love when you guys get creative like this

username145 lando trying to make us forget what we saw in that video:

oscarpiastri i wish i could forget

username146 this will haunt him forever

username147 poor oscar witnessed things he was never supposed to

username148 new nightmare unlocked

username149 CUTIES

username150 i wanna cuddle with lando like that too

lando cuddles reserved to y/n only

♥︎ by itsynbitch

username151 AWWW

username152 couple goals

username153 LOOK AT HOW HAPPY SHE IS

username154 my shayla 😭💖

itsynbitch

Liked by lando, oliviarodrigo, chappellroan and 1,398,755 others

itsynbitch my silly boy

View all 15,897 comments

oliviarodrigo favorites ❤️

♥︎ by itsynbitch

lando i love you

♥︎ by itsynbitch

lando i looove you

♥︎ by itsynbitch

lando I LOVE YOU

itsynbitch alright baby i love you too

♥︎ by lando

username155 you know what that is? SIMPly lovely

username156 wait that's so mean (do it again)

username157 max from his private account:

username158 lando will never live it down

username159 the 4 on lando's shirt 🥺

username160 "my silly boy" MY HEART

username161 they look so good together

username162 ikr???

username163 they just make so much sense

username164 freaky and freaky lover

username165 my bisexual awakening i fear

username166 POOKIES

username167 they're so very dear to me

username168 LANDO’S NOSE SCRUNCH

username169 he's just a little bunny

username170 i wanna bite his face

itsynbitch only i get to do that sorry

lando jealous much?

lando KIDDING

lando please don't leave me

italiangirlcoresblog this man has ZERO shame

-----------------••✩🍪☕️🩹✩••----------------

©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

[intoanotherworld23]

His Delicate Flower Of Rome

Summary: when Lucius found out you were Marcus Acacius’s daughter he knew he had to have you, and when the opportunity was right he wasn’t holding back

Warnings: explicit content, mature themes, smut, unprotected sex, slightly dom Lucius, submissive reader, smidge of spanking

A/N: hello my lovelies! I was genuinely surprised that there isn’t more fics of Paul or Lucius out there so I wanted to write something for him, and hope everyone likes it and share your thoughts on if I should keep writing for him! If you wish to be added to a tag list please let me know! Or if you have any requests do not hesitate to submit it to my inbox! Don’t forget to reblog and comment! Thank you! XOXO

Hall Of Hunks

Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21 @kmc1989

"That's it flower, that's a good woman." Soft praises echoing in your ear as you sank down on Lucius's erect length. His calloused hands caressing your skin so tenderly. "Are you feeling all of me?"

"Mhm." Struggling to find the right words as you concentrated more on adjusting around his cock. Twisting your face in an unusual manner he couldn't resist as he leaned forward to place light kisses on your heated cheeks and temple.

"Do the gods hold your tongue? Can you not speak?" Keeping his voice deep and low as his words teased you.

"Lucius please." Whimpering pathetically as you continued to grind your hips back and forth. Lucius chuckling at how eager and desperate you were for him.

"Do you enjoy fucking gladiators? Does that moisten your thighs? Does your father know what a whore you are?" He taunted you as you bit your bottom lip realizing that his words held more truth than you wanted. Soon as Lucius found out you were Marcus Acacius's daughter he wasted no time in seducing you. "I've been longing to feel this cunt around me for too long."

He loved the feeling of your skin touching his. The way your body had molded into his so perfectly. A fierce bloodthirsty champion of the arena was holding you like a delicate flower. Lucius was enjoying this way more than he intended, and was already planning on never letting you go.

"Gods you are tight." Large hands holding the fat flesh of your thighs his thumb stroking your skin soothingly. Feeling so warm and incredibly deep. "You have not been fucked the way you should be."

Nodding your head in agreement unable to speak as you wrapped your hands around his thick neck. Beginning to tremble as you moved your legs to raise yourself better. Lucious guiding your hips now as he looked down to where you two were connected.

"Take it easy I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself." Noticing how aggressively you were bouncing on his cock. Even as his hands swatted your backside in warning you still continued to ignore him. So lost in the clouds you didn't want to come down.

"I can do it Lucius." Assuring him with such innocent eyes he couldn't help but smirk at how badly you wanted this. "Gods you are so big."

"Fuck." He grunts before pulling your body on top of his as he laid along the bed. He was surprised how soft it was considering he had been sleeping on stone for so long.

Gasping as he lifted his knees and started to pound into your cunt with absolutely no mercy giving you exactly what you wanted. His lips warm and desperate as they peppered kisses along your neck and shoulder. His hands keeping a firm grip on your ass using it as leverage.

"Oh gods." Crying out as he growled in your ear with such animosity it had a shiver running down your spine.

"The gods will never make you feel like this." Hissing into your ear and in just mere seconds tears are glistening in your eyes with such intensity. "Only my cock can bring you to such pleasure."

"Yes, my champion." We're all the words Lucius needed to hear before he suddenly flipped you on your back his cock never slipping from inside you. Grabbing your legs and placing them on his shoulders, as he got right back into the same rhythm.

Drilling into your sweet spot as he leaned forward slightly his face right above yours. Lucius was oozing with confidence in everything that he did. Whether it was in the colosseum or the bedroom. Bit surprised that a man like him would want anything to do with the generals daughter.

"I'm close." Informing him as your body started to shake a fire igniting in the pit of your stomach. Head tossed back in complete ecstasy as you couldn't hold back anymore.

"Let go I am right here." Cooing into your ear like he was revealing his secrets. His deep and seductive tone was sending you right over the edge.

"Oh gods." Crying out as your orgasm was swiftly approaching still sensitive from your previous release by his tongue. Lucius looking down at your remarkable expression unable to look anywhere else. Loving that he was the one in control, and held all this power in your pleasure. It made him feel like a god.

Your senses were extremely heightened, and feeling overwhelmed and vulnerable. Not sure how much longer you could hold on. Lucius could sense this, and he knew what would help relieve you.

"Let me see those beautiful eyes." He instructed to which you immediately followed not seeing that he was reaching a hand down between your bodies to your puffy clit. Rubbing rapid circles making you scream hands scratching along his back surely leaving marks.

Your ribcage rising and falling with each quick breath. Hands falling down to your side feeling loose and numb. Stomach trembling from the resounding orgasm you just experienced. Your battered cunt was so sore from being stretched and abused. Feeling his hands gently caressing your trembling thighs as he stayed still inside of you.

“The gods have surely blessed me on this night.” Speaking trying to catch his breath as he smiled down at you.

“Seems the gods bless you every night.” Moving from underneath him his cock slipping out as he laid next to you. The only sound you could hear was the water fountain outside of your room, and the crackles from the fireplace. Expecting Lucius to gather himself, and never speak to you again.

“Take comfort in my arms, and I will hold you while you sleep.” Pulling your body against his before you could say anything. The unexpected gesture made you feel something that you’ve never felt before. “Sleep my delicate flower.”

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS

dec 17th. tom riddle — overstim, cockwarming.

RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. I 2024

summary: cockwarming as a punishment? clit stim cockwarming as a punishment? tom would think so.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, cockwarming, ft. tom’s mythical clit magic that i force into almost everyone of my fics for him, overstimulation, begging, sharp tongue banter, slight praise, tom is an infuriating bastard like always, dom!tom, slight part 2 from this.

also, thank you to my beautiful @cotttagecorewhore for the idea 🤍

He's a master of multitasking, you've learned in the passing months. Multitasking and complete self-possession, something you can see as he writes, without a break—as you sit perched in his lap, thighs on either side of his.

He's not writing anything of any particular importance—some letter, an order, some instruction for something. All of it is of little consequence to you, so you focus on the act of it instead—the way he holds the quill, the way it moves across the page in neat, angular script. He does it like it's something that requires no effort, not even a moment of thought, and you wonder if writing to him is as easy as breathing.

It's so easy to love you, you think, until your brain goes back to focusing on the feeling of him. His scent. His breath. His length buried inside you. His free hand not letting you move.

Him.

"That's a filthy habit," he murmurs, and you realize you've been biting your lip, watching his hand work across the page. "You’re breaking the skin."

"Can't help it," you grumble, and to make a point, you start biting your lip again. "I chew my lip when I'm impatient. I'm impatient right now."

He makes a sound that's somewhere between a huff and a sigh at that—and you can feel his attention shift from the page to look up at you for a moment—

"Patience, you've never had. Your only flaw, I'd say." He says, languidly taking in the sight of you before shifting his eyes back to his work. “That, and the penchant for damaging your skin."

You roll your eyes. You know he sees it.

"I didn't realize you were an expert in dermatology.”

You can feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs—a low breathless chuckle, and you can't stop yourself from shuddering.

"It's more because I don't want to taste blood when I kiss you."

When I kiss you.

You’ll never tire of words like that, and it’s the simplicity in which he says them that makes half your brain immediately short circuit.

Because it’s moments like this—and there are many of them—where you have to remind yourself to breathe, and it's almost embarrassing how easily he has that effect on you, how he can still make you dizzy from a single offhanded comment.

"I don't recall you complaining before."

You're trying very hard to make your voice sound nonchalant now, and you think you're doing a fairly good job of it, but you can feel the way your hips try to wiggle against him involuntarily, the way your hands tighten on his shoulders, digging your nails into his sweater.

He can feel it, he can definitely feel it.

"I'm not complaining now," he says, the smirk still in his voice. "Just stating my preference."

"I have a preference for you not writing right now," you toss back, and you sound whinier than you intended. "You're torturing me."

"Torture implies you're not enjoying it at all," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving the page. "And I can feel how much you're enjoying it."

You can't stop yourself from shuddering again, as if half of your nerve endings are suddenly connected to him, and you bury your face in his neck.

"You're insufferable," you murmur, feeling the soft wool of his sweater against your face. "Can you feel how much I'm wishing to hex you, too?"

"I can," he replies, before his hips cant up a fraction—just the tiniest shift—pressing his throbbing dick up a little deeper into you, making you bite your lip again, and you're almost certain he's done it just so you'll react. "I far prefer the former, however."

You make an indignant sound at that, but it comes out all breathless and a little high-pitched—and it’s then that you decide to give up your attempts at sounding dignified.

"You and your fucking preferences." You hiss, half muffled against his shoulder.

"I'm nothing if not consistent," he says, and you think he actually sounds more distracted now, as if he's more focused on the wiggling of your hips against him then he is his writing. And then— "if you want something, you know you could just ask for it."

You lift your head from his shoulder at that, just so he can see the glare you're giving him now.

"I won't beg for you." You retort, and you realize halfway through that it's not quite as biting as you intended—it's hard to be biting when you can't seem to stop shuddering—when you feel so fucking full of him. "Not after this."

"I didn't say you had to beg," he whispers, and you realize his quill has stopped moving on the page. "I said you had to ask."

It takes every ounce of willpower you have to keep from rocking your hips against him again—you're not sure how much of this you're willing to take.

"And you'd actually indulge me?" You cock a suspicious eyebrow. "If I just, asked for it?"

Now his eyes have left the page completely—quill dropping from his hand as he brings it to your chin, gripping it gently, tilting your head up so he can look you in the face now. You know you're flushed—you can feel the heat crawling over your skin, your neck, probably to your ears, too.

"When have I ever denied you?" He wets his lips as he says it. "As long as you ask nicely."

"I always ask nicely," you mutter, but the effect is lost somewhat when, in your attempt to regain a semblance of control, his hips shift and his dick twitches inside you again. "Jesus—Tom, just fuck me. I can't—"

There's an instant when you think the corners of his eyes crinkle in satisfaction when you say that, and he knows just how undone you feel because he's the one who's gotten you there, and that's why he likes to take his time, because it gets you like this—

"That wasn't nicely," he tuts, tilting your head up a little further. "That was greedy. Selfish."

And there's a hitch in your breath when he says it, because as much as it rankles you to be called that, you know he's right—

"Please," you whine, slick walls clenching tight around him—craving the friction. "Please please please..."

You hoped you’d catch a hitch in his breath at that, something that shows you’re getting somewhere—but he just smiles—and it's a slow, almost cruel smile as his hand slips down to your throat, thumb running over the skin of your neck.

"Much better," he coos, and god it's so condescending you’re back to mentally hexing him. "For your efforts."

And the second he says that—you feel his magic swirling and massaging over your clit.

"Oh god," you manage, half a gasp and half a moan, your eyes squeezed shut. "Oh my god—"

It feels both instantaneous and instant—the wave of pleasure that washes through you at the exact time that the hand around your throat tightens. Another gasp gets stuck in your throat and you want to rock against him but he's holding you in place, and you have to settle for clinging on to his shoulders, clawing at him—

"Eyes open," he rasps, and you do, with an effort, the look on his face almost sinful when you manage to open them—his eyes darkened, watching you intently. "Just like that. Good. No moving."

That simple word—good—does way more to you then it has any right to, and you watch his face as the realization of how much you liked it shows there too.

"Don't be cruel," you whine again, your nails still biting into his shoulders because it's all you have, the only way to anchor yourself. "Tom—fuck—please—"

You see the way a muscle in his jaw clenches for a second—just a second—as if he's biting back a reaction.

"Relax," his hand slips to the back of your head, pulling you to rest your face against his shoulder as he goes back to writing. "I'm almost done here."

You want to make some biting comeback but you can't even think, let alone speak—the pleasure is already at a fever pitch that's almost too much, to the point where you feel like you're trembling, your muscles taut, your thighs clenching, your nails raking desperately up the wool of his sweater.

"Almost?" You manage between gasps as the sensation heightens and you can practically feel your climax prowling near. "You—you said you'd—give me what I want if I asked—"

"You're right," he's hardly focused, as if he can't be bothered in the slightest by your frantic state on his lap. "But I didn't say I'd give it to you now, did I?"

"You bastard," you gasp, your head lolling against the crook of his neck. "You're a fucking—mmffff—god—"

"Poor thing," he responds, all faux-pity as he runs a hand through your hair. "So helpless she's calling me a god."

You roll your eyes with a groan, while he just keeps writing—you can feel yourself trying to rock against him again as the pleasure is building and building and you can't find a balance—

"Tom," you gasp out, but you're not even sure what you're asking for, all you know is that it's him—it’s him and him and him. "Tom—I'm going to—you're going to make me—"

A shudder goes through him at that, barely perceptible, the smallest jerk that you're not sure anyone else would notice but you're so aware of his body and his responses that you'd never miss it—

"Go on." He urges, quietly. "I won't stop you."

You think it's probably the tone in which he says it—half pitying, half condescending—that does you in, and all you can do is bite down on his shoulder, hard, and then you're cumming, almost violently—as if something inside you snaps all at once and you're shaking with it, clawing at him, gasping for air, trying in vain not to make a sound because his dorm is not warded off yet and you're certain the rest of the school would hear if you screamed—

"Mfffff—"

You're clenching, walls fluttering around him as he lets you bite down on his shoulder as hard as you want—the shudder that goes through him at the feeling of your teeth on his skin doesn't go unnoticed, and you wonder if he likes it, if he wants you to mark him just as bad as you want to leave your claim.

"Alright," he purrs when you go limp against him, half slumped over his lap. "Alright. Relax. Good."

You feel utterly boneless and breathless against him, like you've been completely drained out of everything, still shaking a little—he's done this to you in a matter of a few minutes and you feel humiliated by the ease in which he manages it, the control—

"I hate you," you murmur breathlessly, wincing as you feel him—huge and solid, buried inside you—twitch. "Fuck, I hate you."

There’s a low, breathless hum that those words pull from him—and you feel him tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, before his hand goes back to your throat, tilting your head back up.

"Don't lie," he murmurs, mouthing at your jaw. "You don't."

You're half tempted to argue otherwise, or give him some sort of biting response—but at the feeling of his mouth against your neck, you feel a fresh burst of heat flare up again and you can't seem to fight it—

"No," you breathe out, and you sound almost delirious with it now, too far gone to pretend you have any semblance of control. "I d-don't."

"That's what I thought," he hums, you can feel that smirk on your skin and you hate it and you love it simultaneously, and you wonder how it's possible to feel this many things at once. "You've always been a terrible liar."

Your lips part in response to that, but before you can get words out, he's shifting to resume his writing, and the magic on your clit starts back up again—

"Fuck! Y-you can't be serious," you manage through a mewl, because you're sure you don't have anything left to give—there's no way you can feel it again, much less so soon. "You can't just—"

"I'm not done yet," he replies, simply. "That means you aren't either."

It's almost infuriating, how simple he makes it sound, as if you don't have any say in it, as if he's going to just pull another orgasm out of you the way you'd pull a tissue out of a box—and you want to hate him for it, only you're already going back to being desperate, all your nerve endings on fire again, your fingers clenching uselessly against the dark wool—

"Tommmm" you whine, clenching around him as he twitches inside you, as the stimulation on your clit grows stronger—making your hips jerk, making you lift yourself about an inch up his shaft—just enough to make him groan—

"Fuck."

His fingers immediately fist in your hair, jerking your head back—and you love it, yet hate it, making you hate that you love it—and he makes a low, guttural sound against your neck, almost a growl.

"If you keep that up," you think it might actually be a threat now, because it’s snarled through barred teeth. "I will never finish this."

"That's—that's sort of the point," you gasp out. "I don't care if you don't finish it—I fucking need you—now—"

He makes that guttural sound against your neck again, almost as if he's biting it back—as if he needs the restraint to resist just throwing you onto the desk and having you there—

"Patience," he growls, but you can hear how breathless he is too, now, how affected he is—and that thought makes you feel insane all over again. "You think you deserve to be fucked after what you did? Hm? Slipping me that potion—tying me up—"

"Yes—yes I do—" you don't care that the sound that comes out of your mouth is most definitely a moan, that it's completely pitiful how desperate you are now—you want him, and nothing else matters. "It was just a little potion, it didn't even last that long, you were just mad I made you—"

He shakes his head, telling you without words to shut up.

"Careful," his hand slips from your hair to cover your mouth. "Don't want you to go talking yourself into trouble," his hand tightens a fraction when you try to bite at. "You might end up getting what you don't want."

He shifts under you, making you gasp against his palm, your nails biting into his shoulder as the magic on your clit twirls and swirls with just a little more intensity, enough for you to undeniably feel it—and Tom jerks his hips up into you, just enough for you to feel that, too—

You shake, forcing the words from under his palm. "Tom, please—"

It's not a whine, now—it's a keening, an almost broken sort of plea—but it's as if he doesn't hear it, or maybe he just doesn’t care, because he's continuing to speak in that low, growly rumble against your neck that's just as torturous as everything else.

"You're going to be quiet. You're going to take it," he asserts, and your eyes nearly roll back at the sheer heat of it. "Until I believe you’re deserving of more."

You have no idea if you're nodding or trying to protest, you don't even know which one you want to do because both options sound impossible to you—and you're almost hyperventilating now, the intensity almost too much and not enough all at once—you're desperate, you're aching, you're needy, and then you're falling over the edge—second orgasm shredding through you like lightening—

Oh—fucking hell—

It wrings itself out of you, violent and all consuming, but you can't make a sound—can't do anything except bite down on Tom's hand and clench your eyes shut as you fall apart—your thighs shaking, every muscle taut, your nails clawing desperately at his shoulder.

And he's murmuring things against your neck that you can't make out, holding you against him through it, making you take it in the most exquisite kind of torture—and god, you're certain he must be smiling, you're certain he loves having you like this, a broken mess on his lap, unable to speak, only whimper as he pulls his hand away with a "good girl", and urges your head to rest against his shoulder again as he resumes writing.

For the next solid minute, you still can't speak, just gasp for breath—clinging to him helplessly in the aftershock of it.

"That was two," he says, his hand trailing lazily up and down your spine. "You're in for a long night."

You want to whimper at that, because you're not sure if you can take anything more—

"How many," you manage to breathe out, your voice rasping. "How many more."

"As many as you can take," his voice is so matter-of-fact you know the bastard is smirking. "And possibly a few more after that.”

[astonmartinii]

day one: when you wish upon a star | lando norris social media au

pairing: lando norris x fem reader

he's been begging max to set him up ... and look who has him in the grid secret santa!

christmas song: my only wish (this year) - britney spears

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

f1

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,209,488 others

tagged: carlossainz55, pierregasly & landonorris

f1: it's that time of the year again... it's secret santa time!

view all comments

user1: THE SPEEDOS????

user2: 100% from valterri

user3: what do we have to do to see them on tho ???

user4: HUH?

user3: we're all thinking it??

alexalbon: since you're a blabber mouth @charles_leclerc PLEASE PUT MORE EFFORT INTO YOUR GIFT THIS YEAR

charles_leclerc: my gift was great last year idk what you people are talking about

alexalbon: if i unwrap a calendar i will set horsey on leo

charles_leclerc: @rspca GET HIM

user5: i love with secret santa you can really tell which drivers are actually friends lol

user6: charles... we're looking at you last year

user7: the teaser showed that max got lando ... could be interesting after this season

maxverstappen1: not that i need to ... but i have a plan

user8: really?

maxverstappen1: i have concepts of a plan!

landonorris: please don't like gift wrap like a litter box or something

maxverstappen1: oh i like my cats much more than i like you why would i do that?

maxverstappen1: AHA! I HAVE IT

landonorris: that sounds ominous

carlossainz55: is it something to do with his pathetic crush on a certain someone

landonorris: LALALALALLALALA SHUT THE FUCK UP I DON'T WANT THE WORLD TO KNOW ABOUT THAT MAX PLEASE DON'T I'M SORRY ABOUT AUSTRIA

user9: well now it needs to happen...

user10: whoever came up with the grid secret santa i need to give you a big fat kiss

maxverstappen1: you might not be the only one ....

landonorris: SHUT UP

maxverstappen1: hehehehehee

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 14,055 others

yourusername: gift giving is my love language

view all comments

user14: okay lando i kinda get you

user15: she's friends with max and looks like that and hasn't been hooked? where is the hope for all of us

maxverstappen1: hideous personality 👍

yourusername: and you're my best friend so what does that say about you?

maxverstappen1: i have zero standards?

yourusername: girl fuck you

user16: i hate bitches that can actually wrap gifts

user17: leave me alone with my crinkled shit held together with a whole roll of tape

landonorris: my love language is words of affirmation :3

yourusername: okay mr praise kink

landonorris: WHAT? NO?

yourusername: whatever you wanna say babygirl

landonorris: oh i ... um - yes!

user18: oh brother this dude stinks

alexalbon: he is even worse in real life

oscarpiastri: but it is just as entertaining

landonorris: i'm glad my low self esteem is so funny for you guys

yourusername: you're amazing lando - don't think badly of yourself :(

landonorris: did you or did you not call me a 'stumpy, entitled british bum' the other day?

yourusername: well that's because you were fighting max and unfortunately we're two trauma bonded cats and he therefore comes first

yourusername: but i still love you!

landonorris: LOVE?

user19: someone check on him?

oscarpiastri: i just found him passed out in his driver's room

georgerussell63: that's becoming blackmail material

landonorris

liked by alexalbon, yourusername and 803,405 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

landonorris: didn't manage to win the championship this time round but i'm hoping max got me something good in the secret santa to say sorry

view all comments

user20: thank god this season is ending

user21: i think it would've killed me if this title race went to abu dhabi again

user22: it's pookie on pookie crime

user23: i fear one of the pookies may have killed the other if this went on any longer

maxverstappen1: wouldn't you like to know weather boy

landonorris: um yes? i hate surprises

maxverstappen1: i think you might like this one 😈

landonorris: that emoji makes me think you've been scheming

maxverstappen1: maybe i have? you'll just have to wait and see ...

landonorris: STOP I CAN HEAR YOUR EVIL LAUGHTER FROM HERE

landonorris: seriosuly how many of you are in on this it sounds like a pack of hyenas this is meant to be SECRET santa

alexalbon: what do you mean i don't know anything about this ...

landonorris: alex YOU CAN'T STOP LAUGHING AROUND ME

alexalbon: maybe i just find you real funny lando?

landonorris: really?

alexalbon: NO

user24: they are enjoying torturing him way too much

maxverstappen1: call it karma for all the shit he talked throughout the season

landonorris: NOO I THOUGHT I WAS GETTING A NICE GIFT ???

maxverstappen1: oh it's definitely a gift for somone...

landonorris: i deadass won't come to the paddock

yourusername: you'll win it soon lands - just wait for max to retire so i can support you wholeheartedly

landonorris: why not now :((((

yourusername: don't worry babe he's old he'll retire in no time

landonorris: yay 🥳 🙌 😀

maxverstappen1: excuse me?

landonorris: is four championships and y/n not enough?

maxverstappen1: no!

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, alexalbon and 1,302,558 others

tagged: yourusername & landonorris

maxverstappen1: not just because i want another trophy, but i'll pick up my best secret santa award now thanks

view all comments

user25: he didn't ???

user26: i think he did

user27: is that not like prostitution?

maxverstappen1: i don't think giving lando a chance to embarrass himself on a date is prostitution

user28: do you have any faith in him?

maxverstappen1: in him? no. but does y/n also have horrible standards and is easily impressed? yes.

alexalbon: he folded so quickly i hope they got it all on camera

oscarpiastri: that was so humiliating it might have to go on a more x rated website

landonorris: OSCAR????

oscarpiastri: it was harrowing mate but she seemed to like it so go you?

carlossainz55: that was a crazy reaction for it to just be y/n

maxverstappen1: i think you're trying to be funny but it might JUST be a skill issue

landonorris: JUST Y/N? KILL YOURSELF

carlossainz55: woah where is the christmas cheer?

landonorris: i will run you over with my sleigh

landonorris: THIS IS THE BEST GIFT ANYONE HAS EVER GOTTEN ME PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE

user29: bro is so down bad that he just took carlando out back and shot them

user30: bro is so lost in the sauce that he is threatening a festive hit and run

yourusername: okay max we can stop pretending that i wasn't also begging you to set me up with lando

maxverstappen1: but it's so funny watching him make a fool of himself

landonorris: HUH???

yourusername: newsflash baby, i'm just as in love with you as you are with me

landonorris: AHHHHHHHHH <333333333

landonorris: i'm sorry i'll get back to being in love with you one sec

landonorris: @alexalbon @georgerussell63 @oscarpiastri @carlossainz55 SUCK ON THAT

landonorris: okay i love you y/n :3

yourusername: i love you too you crazy boy

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen1, alexalbon and 1,430,973 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: christmas wishes do come true!

view all comments

user34: so how long do you think he's had that shirt in preparation?

landonorris: 18 months at least - i have faith in myself even if the others didn't

user35: i can't tell if that's creepy or?

landonorris: IT'S ROMANTIC

yourusername: kiss me it's christmas!

landonorris: only because it's christmas?

yourusername: i guess i can give you a couple more passes...

landonorris: not to be dramatic but now i know what it feels like i might die without it

yourusername: not dramatic at all !!!

maxverstappen1: it is kinda dramatic ...

yourusername: SHUSH!

maxverstappen1: i knew you were mushy about this (your diary reads like a very badly written romance book) but good lord this is awful THESE ARE PUBLIC COMMENTS

yourusername: I FUCKING KNEW YOU READ MY DIARY

maxverstappen1: duh! how else did you think this little scheme came to be?

yourusername: ugh i guess

user36: so like where do i get an f1 driver bestfriend who will invade my privacy to get me a bf?

user37: might just start throwing my diary in the paddock at this point

alexalbon: ur so pathetic i love you

yourusername: excuse me old man

alexalbon: old? OLD?

yourusername: i don't care to google you but i've seen you try and read a menu and scan a QR code so stop declaring your love for my boyf or i will keep going

landonorris: she's so possessive 😩😩😩

yourusername: i ate too many grapes on new year's eve to not get and keep my man

alexalbon: trust me, no one wants ur man

yourusername: tell that to the teenage girls in my DMs

user38: it's a pleasant surprise to see that y/n is just as down bad as lando

user39: match made in heaven ... this MIGHT make me a max verstappen fan

user40: i fear this will be an f1 custody battle for the ages

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 78,209 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: my only wish this year was to finally get you <3

view all comments

user41: i already liked this queen but a queen who loves britney spears christmas... that's mother

user42: one of these most underrated christmas songs ever

oscarpiastri: ... some people have even witnessed her live rendition of it

yourusername: don't sound too excited about it then

oscarpiastri: i appreciated the enthusiasm but like i feel like it was a PRIVATE moment ... not for the whole of the garage to see

landonorris: someone is missing lily ....

user43: i am trying to be joyful as per the holiday season but i am absolutely seething with jealousy

user44: hey siri play that should be me

yourusername: nope sorry never gonna happen :P

user45: okay girl you've made your point no need to rub it in our faces

yourusername: actually i think i will! my bf is pretty why wouldn't i show that off ?

user46: yall can hate her for this but realistically this is how we'd all be if we pulled lando

landonorris: you guys acting as if i'm the catch when it's literally her...

user47: do we think santa's elves can make me a lando norris? REAL ANSWERS ONLY ...

maxverstappen1: WOW you wouldn't think this was a double date trip ...

yourusername: you can't complain about BOTH of us pining and then be annoyed about us being lovey dovey

maxverstappen1: i can and i WILL

landonorris: you know what max you can complain all you want because this has been the BEST secret santa ever

maxverstappen1: so you won't call me a dirty driver next season?

landonorris: eh?

yourusername: make no mistake lando, i may love you but my loyalties on track remain with max

landonorris: as long as you're still coming home with me i guess i'll deal with it

yourusername: luv u xxxx

landonorris: i love you tooooo xxx

user48: is y/n going to do more for the on track tension than the literal fia?

yourusername: always gotta be a woman sorting everything out

user50: babe i think max is just afraid of you and lando is so in love he'll do anything for you

yourusername: AS THEY SHOULD BE

fin.

note: and on the first day of christmas aston martini gave to me a smau that undos all of our max vs lando tension from the season !! thought i'd treat yall to the first day early <33

[entitled-fangirl]

Moonblood in the middle of the night.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: Cregan wakes the reader up in the middle of the night. She's groggy and unsure why.

A/n: based on an ask!!!

Masterlist

..............................................................

She woke up to the soft coo of Cregan's voice as his hands pulled her to sit, "C'mon, love. Wake up for me."

She lets out a groan, rubbing her eyes. The sun had yet to rise, and candles lit their room still. 

He smiled at the sight of her open eyes finally. He ran a hand through her hair, "Doing good for me. Up now."

Her entire body ached as he pulled her up to stand. Her eyes were still half closed with sleep, a blurriness cast over her vision as her brain filled with fog.

Only when Cregan's hands came up to untie her robe, did she reached out to grip his waist. "What-"

"-C'mon. I'm just getting you into the bath."

As the robe fell, a chill moved up her spine. Cregan helped her into the water, smiling when she let out a sigh at the warmth it brought back to her.

Cregan pulled her hair back and quickly tied it up to keep it from the water before moving over to the bed, yanking at the sheets in a hurry.

She didn't notice, leaning her head against the copper rim on the tub as her eyes closed and sleep began to invite itself back.

Cregan gathered the bundle of sheets and threw them outside the door to their chambers. He dug through the cabinet, pulling new sheets out and redoing the bed. 

At the sound of shuffling, she peeked open her eyes to look at him, "What are you doing?" He looked at her with a smile. "What? Do you believe a lord does to know how to change bedding?"

She let out a playful scoff, leaning back and closing her eyes again, "You know that's not what I meant."

After changing the bedding, he moved to the tub, kneeling down beside it and taking a rag into the water. He rubbed it gently up and down her arms. 

She hummed in contentment as he did so. 

He took his time washing her body, the gruff man being gentle. 

Cregan moved the cloth between her legs, and she let out a small gasp, her eyes opening in question. 

"Easy, girl," he muttered lightly. "Your moonblood has come early. Rest your head again, and let me finish."

She let out a small whine, trailing her hand down to try to take the rag from him. "No, don't."

But he didn't budge. "Why? I've seen you at your worst moments, dear wife. Why is this where the line is drawn?"

"It's improper for you to see, Cregan."

He paused, studying her face closely. "Do you wish me gone?"

She quickly shook her head, "Never. It is just imp-"

"-Improper my arse," he said as he finished cleaning her.

…

"I am sorry," she said as he helped walk to back to the bed. 

"For what, dear wife?"

"Bleeding. On the bedding. I shouldn't sleep with y-"

His large hands cupped her cheeks as he forced her to look at him, "You're properly clothed for it now, aren't you?"

She nodded, "But-"

"-Did you believe I'd shun you for this?"

Only then did she really see the desperate look in his eyes. He was insistent on making her see that it truly did not bother him. 

"No. No, I don't."

He let out a breath, "Good." His hands wandered down to her hips, lifting her and setting her on the bed, pulling the furs over her. 

He rounded the bed, getting in on the other side. 

She turned her back to him, assuming that that was it.

But she heard a scoff and soon, his hands wrapped around her waist. He flipped her around and pulled her to his side. "Don't push me away."

She nestled into his chest, getting comfortable, "Thank you, Cregan."

He smiled down at her, "I've done nothing but my duty to you." His hand traced down her back, "Are you in any pain?"

She nodded, "Dully."

He shifted, moving himself onto his side, pushing her onto her back. One of his hands moved to her lower stomach, lightly massaging the sore area.

She let out a sinful groan at the relief.

Cregan continued his movements until he was sure she was asleep before pulling her more into his side and falling asleep himself.

………………………………………..

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 7

It was a nice sunny day in Gotham, Alfred had set up a family picnic in the gardens of the manor. For the most part it was peaceful, Dick, Jason, and Tim had only gotten into five distinct arguments/fights in the last hour, Cass and Barbara were meditating under a tree, Steph was suntanning, Duke was enjoying the food Alfred made, Damian was giving Danny another lesson on swordsmanship.

As for Bruce, he was happy seeing his family get along and getting a chance to relax and have fun. He quietly wished that this day could continue without any unexpected surprises.

A green portal opened above them and a white and green blur came out of it and pounced on Danny. Danny stumbled to the floor with a white-haired, green-eyes girl on top of him.

Danny: Ellie!

Ellie: Danny!

They got up and hugged.

Ellie: I've missed you!

Danny: I've missed you too.

They got up.

Ellie: So this is your new family?

Danny looked around to see the rest of the batfam ready to fight.

Ellie: Jumpy aren't they?

Danny: Yeah they are. He looked at Ellie. Ellie if you don't mind can you detransforms? We're currently just together as civilians.

Ellie: Sure thing. Ellie detransformed.

Danny: Everyone this is Ellie, my clone/little sister. Ellie this is my family.

The Bats looked at Danny and Ellie back and forth.

Ellie: You didn't tell them about me did you?

Danny: I could have sworn that I did.

Jason: No Danny you did not!

Danny: Ellie this is my dad Jason.

Ellie (running up to Jason, giving him a hug): Hi! Danny's told me so much about you in his letters!

Jason: Hi, good to meet you too. Jason looked down at her. So... you're a clone?

Ellie: Yeah, I was created by Vlad back when he was still evil. We're all chill now.

Jason (looking at Danny): Kid, how could you not mention you have a sister?

Ellie: Well he doesn't have A sister.

Jason: Danny!?

Danny: I have another sister, an older one, her name is Jazz, she's 19 and lives in Metropolis. I sometimes fly over there to visit her.

Jason: Kid!

Danny: Sorry, Jazz doesn't want to be involved with this superhero stuff while she's in college unless she really needs to, and Ellie lives in the Infinite Realms full-time.

Jason: ...I can't even be mad, this is exactly the kind of thing I would pull.

Ellie: You're family is weird.

Danny: And I love them all the same.

Alfred: Miss Ellie would you like to join our picnic?

Ellie: Oh I wouldn't want to intrude.

Damian: You came out of a portal, and attacked my nephew and pupil, disrupting our lesson, you have intruded.

Ellie: Damian I presume?

Damian: Indeed.

Ellie (choosing chaos): Danny also writes about you, you're his favorite uncle.

Dick and Tim: WHAT!?

Damian: I am?

Ellie: Yes, he loves going on patrol with you and your swordsmanship lessons.

Damian: ...You are welcomed to stay as long as you like, niece.

Ellie: Thank you.

Ellie walked towards the picnic table and started eating some strawberries. Meanwhile Dick and Tim approached Danny.

Dick and Tim: Explain yourself!

Danny: She's lying I don't have a favorite! [Internally: Ellie's not wrong that Damian's my favorite, but I've never written that down!]

Dick: Good, because we all know I'm your favorite.

Tim: In your dreams Richard, I am.

Dick: No you're not Timothy.

Tim: Yes I am.

Dick: No you're not!

Dick rushed towards Tim and the two started fighting.

Damian: Let's continue our lesson Danny, we've wasted valuable time, we don't need to watch does two fight it out for the sixth time in the last hour.

Danny: Yes sir!

Alfred: Master Duke, thank you for not losing your composure.

Duke: Too busy eating right now to care.

Bruce (on the brink of tears): Why does the universe hate me? Why can't we have one normal day?

(Master Post)

[roturo]

⋆.˚⭒⋆.˚ WATCH IT!

Gojo Satoru didn't predicted this move... So he ended up fucking you lol ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ G!Satoru x afab!reader and sex pollen!

tags: smut, sex pollen, unprocteted sex (wrap it and pee after sex), overstimulation (like A LOT), use of nicknames (princess, baby, good boy, love...) multiple rounds, praise kink, angst if you squint your eyes till you cry like gojo, sub(ish)!gojo satoru, god complex, fluff if you take one eye out, crack, belly bulgde, creampie, breeding kink, crempie kink, A LOT of cum, dumbfication, cock warming, npr.

A/N: happy holidays! might be my last writing of the year so i wish you lots of love and happiness <3 i might write pt2 for this one and 'she's back', which one would you like first?

o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

DAY 1: HOW IT STARTED

How the fuck at his grown ass age Gojo Satoru could be this stupid. And that’s big coming from him, because this man considers himself the senior of seniors and god of gods. So, how come he falled into this?

And you know what? Maybe it is his fault! For believing he’s a superior and underestimating such a weak and useless curse he just killed. But, this weak and useless curse has him going crazy. That really was karma paying back to him because motherfucker- Why is he feeling all giddy and hot all of sudden? This has never happened to him before, so that’s why he’s losing his mind right now and almost sprinting into his room because of how bothered he was feeling to just teleport. 

Everything was like hell. Really, like hot as hell. And how does Satoru know that? Uh well, because he’s living it right now.

He couldn’t bear the sensation anymore and dialogue Shoko’s number like it was a habit.

“What do you want, Gojo? I’m in the middle of trying to know how Yuuji’s body is capable of being Sukuna’s vessel. Like- It’s quite important right now, and more than debating about some of your dumb tv shows you-”

Shoko’s voice was interrupted by a whine coming from Gojo’s line, seconds of silence continued the awkward moment between the both of them, while all Gojo could do was breathe and maintain his whines inside of his body before he started literally moaning.

“Are you okay, Gojo?...”

“Fuck, no. Some fucking curse sprayed me all over with some fucking stinky pollen. Didn’t even taste great, by the way. And now I'm just feeling really hot, sometimes dizzy… or kinda giddy? fuck. And my breathing became irregular. I’m fucking sprawled out in my bed trying to find a comfy position but my legs won’t cooperate.”

A loud laugh was heard coming from Shoko’s line. It was clear she’s been holding it all this time just trying to make sure she’s gettin it right.. and well. 

“Gojo.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you hard right now?”

Silence. 

“You know what? I’m sending Y/N over there with some medicine. You’ve been sprayed with sex pollen by the way.”

Sex- what?! 

Before he couldn’t even ask Shoko any question since she quickly hung up. Leaving a needy and confused (and hard) Gojo.

Knock. Knock. 

No answer, but a weird sounding moan? You gave yourself permission to enter Gojo’s room since no life signals were heard. But- holy fuck. Was this a reward or a punishment from the gods?

He was kneeled down on his bed, one of his hands used as a support placed in his bare calf while his other hand was as fast as possible jerking himself off. You stayed still some seconds before rewinding back to what Shoko told you before coming here.

“He might be another type… of… Gojo?... Anyways. He’ll be really needy and like a lost puppy looking for some salvation. I gave you this backpack with all you would need, yeah? Thank me later and good luck.”

So that’s why her flat ass was quickly sending you off with a backpack full of water bottles and snacks. Sex fucking pollen. Great.

It’s not like people don’t know that both of you have been crushing into each other lately, hell- even his newest student asked about this. But you never expected for it to be like this.

“G-Gojo…?”

Your voice was barely a whisper, but it’s like a hawk located his next prey because of how instant his reaction was just for your voice. A drunk smile on his face, while both of his hands fall infront of him trying to hide the act that was going on minutes ago. His sculptured white as snow body covered in a hot layer of sweat. Not being able to catch a breath thanks to this sight, somehow he’s in front of you. 

“Are you here to help me? Y/N?”

His voice sounded so different. But at the same time it was just Gojo.

A small nod was all the reaction he got. You could smell that sweaty smell, looking down you found yourself looking at a large wet spot staining his black briefs. While his cock does nothing to imagination, marking perfectly the shape of it. Moving your gaze to his v-line, a white happy trail proudly adorning it. Eyes moving up, you found yourself looking at his clearly erected nipples, But all this examination was over once he interrupted your thoughts.

“I need a verbal affirmation, princess”

Ah, the nicknames. If you weren’t wet by now, you’re pretty sure you’re leaking right now all because of him.

“Yes Satoru, I’ll help you.”

His knees felt weak. Literally. He kneeled down in front of you, it was like he hypnotized and somehow could smell through your body into emotions. His hands were cold but hot at the same time he roamed your body.

You tried warning him by calling his name while he started kissing the softness of your thighs, telling him to at least move you towards the bed. And his body was doing what you said like if you were controlling him, while his mind was somewhere else. He moved the both of you towards his bed, making you lie down. His head not wasting any second between your thighs until his nose touched where you needed him the most and you whimpered at the feeling. Clearly triggering a new kind of need inside Gojo.

Everything happened really fast. Between some kisses and moaning, Gojo ripped your shorts and pantoes a muffled noise coming out from him of what you suppose was “I’ll buy you new ones later” but right now you couldn’t care less.

Not when his tongue slowly started tracing the way from your entrance until it reached your core. Teasing it with kitten licks, while his hands remained on your hips from preventing moving them.

His tongue quickly found a rhythm between your entrance and your clit, forming infinite signs between them. And the simulation was too much you couldn’t notify Gojo about your orgasm- But he was so lost in the feeling of your thighs suffocating him and the taste of yourself in his lips, he swears he could die as a happy man right now.

And like it wasn’t enough, Gojo kept eating you out even after your intense orgasm. Overstimulation taking over your body, trying to take him off your core, ended up with annoyed groans coming out from him.

“Satoru, love, fuck. I need you to stop, please.”

The nickname had him exploding with happiness, he really looked like a puppy from this angle. His eyes looked ethereal, his mouth covered with your fluids and his face was with a cute smile while he called out your name.

“Will you please let me fuck you?”

A small giggle came out from your mouth, Gojo’s face looked a little sad and embarrassed, but was quickly erased when you pecked his lips. And that was all he needed to clumsily take off his briefs and while he climbed back to the bed, taking off your top while doing so. His eyes were full of adoration looking over your body, before he pressed his lips into yours, locking them for a long moment, clearly enjoying the moment, before the kiss turned more heated and he started kissing every part of your body again.

His tip was now wet thanks to your folds, Easily slipping through it. 

“Ffuck- Ssatoru- Be a good boy and put it in, please?”

Gojo needed no more words before thrusting his cock whole into you with one swift movement, hitting perfectly against that spongy spot that made you see stars. But something didn’t feel right. Not in a bad way. Since you re-opened your eyes to find a glassy eyed Satoru mumbling a lot of ´sorry’s´ while he kept thrusting.

Oh.

He came with just one thrust and was overstimulating himself, still rock hard with no break while he hid his face in the crook of your neck while marking it as his and tearing down from the pleasure. 

You’re pretty sure he came again, when he whimpered your name and moaned against your ear but still continued thrusting into you perfectly. And he was so lost in the pleasure of overstimulating himself he didn’t realize once he confessed to you.

“You’re so pretty- ffuck– I really want to make you mine now. So no one could look at you, not even in a friendly way. Just… have you all for me- sshit. I love you.”

You didn’t want to get your hopes up, thinking it was all because of the moment, so you just had to enjoy it for now. His thrusts were so  fast and hard, but somehow still felt romantic. Like this was a normal routine on a daily basis. And you would be disgusted by the pool of cum forming under the both of you if you weren’t so close to your third orgasm this night. No matter how many times you told Gojo to stop for a moment and take a break, he would cum again, and still be hard so he had to keep thrusting.

Your mind is lost now. All you could ever think about right now was Gojo Satoru and his immense cock. He wouldn’t stop mumbling praises to you, saying this was all for you to feel good and he would stop once you cum at least 3 times more than him. A hard dare to get over with. Or maybe it already happened?

You begged for mercy, not thinking he could get another orgasm out of you. Hell- to even get an orgasm out of him. His hands interweld into yours, and moved it down towards your tummy.

“Do you feel it, baby? I'm right here. Ahh~ I’m pretty sure my cum is there too heh. Your tummy is full of me and my cum.”

He sounded drunk. Like. Really drunk. But his words took off your last orgasm of the night, apparently your reaction making his trigger off and cum… dry?

How many fucking times did Gojo Satoru came inside you?

Will pills even prevent a pregnancy?

“Ah- shit baby.”

You couldn’t pay attention to him anymore, quickly slipping into dreamland. Gojo not once leaves your side. Literally. He was cock-warming, still hard, but no energy (and cum) to continue his misery.

You were here at 7.45 o’clock, one last look at the clock and it was 3.23 in the morning.

And it was like you just blinked, because a whimper came out of your mouth. Looking again into the clock, it was 10 AM, and Gojo was not over.

[nicksolemnlyswears]

STAY WITH US

this oneshot can be read as a standalone.

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME (PT. 2 HELAENA'S TURN)

pairing: aegon targaryen x targaryen! reader x helaena targaryen

word count: ~2.7k

warnings: spoilers for s2e2 of HoTD, mentions of death of a child, mentions of blood, light cursing

a/n: so i lied, so sorry, my apologies, remember how i said i wanted this part to be smut? well it didn't happen. in the end it didn't seem right because these oneshots originated form a place of care and comfort [not horniness like usual]

that being said i am open to doing a series of small oneshots based on their relationship that are more spicy because regardless it lives rent free on my brain and i'd love to share the pervertedness they'd get up to. also i've never written a threesome and that seems like a good writing exercise.

hope you like this oneshot. it's really sweet and when i was thinking of what else to do with them it simply clicked. my only wish is for it to have the same comfort provoking feeling as the other two. while this little series was written as a way for me to feel better about these characters it makes me happy to know it served the same purpose for a lot of you guys. also this was my first time writing for HoTD and you're all so nice ;) THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE.

enjoy!

Without Jaehaerys by her side, his twin sister Jaehaera must adjust to being alone. Her lifelong playmate is gone, and now she ought to find her place as an only child.

The silver-haired girl restlessly jumps through different activities, searching for the one that will entertain her long enough without company. It is difficult because each time she successfully gets distracted, she turns to catch her brother's attention, only to find he's no longer there.

Queen Helaena watches her as she stitches together a new embroidery piece for a dress. The Queen spent her days with both her children, but now that one of them is gone, she spends nearly every waking moment with her daughter. Observing. Protecting. Alert.

"The three-headed dragon shall rise once more," Helaena mumbles under her breath. The maids ignore her mumblings. The Queen's words don't make sense half the time.

A squeal of delight from her daughter prompts the needle to pierce Helaena's finger and a bead of blood forms at the pad of it. Looking up, she finds you picking up Jaehaera and kissing her chubby cheeks. The girl is enamored by her cousin and the attention you provide.

"Good morrow, 'Laena," you brightly greet her, setting down Jaehaera and sitting by her on the floor. "Have you broken fast yet?"

Helaena places a hand in yours as a greeting and nods kindly, assuring you she's been eating all her meals. At times, her appetite turns into nausea as glimpses of her dead son invade her senses, but she tries fighting through it.

She closes her eyes and thinks of anything else—primarily you. You who distract her and treat her with such care without judgment of her eccentricities. It's odd how she's caught herself multiple times seeking your approval.

As Helaena returns to her stitching, Jaehaera bounces over and falls into your arms. "I wish for my hair to be like yours."

"Allow me, Princess," Jaehaera's nursemaid intervenes. She does not wish to be seen as lazy and incapable of her job to care for the children.

The small Princess holds tightly onto you, hiding her face on your chest as she settles on your lap. "No, I want my cousin to do it. She's a Princess, and I want Princess's hair."

You giggle at her words and gesture to the nursemaid that it's alright. "Come on, sweet girl, sit," you coo, positioning her in front of you.

One of the maids hands you a hairbrush, and you begin your work. As a Princess, your hair is mostly styled by your maids, but every lady should know how to style it appropriately.

"You're such a pretty girl, Jaehaera. Did you know that?" You talk to distract her from squirming too much. She's an impatient little thing, like her father.

Jaehaera giggles sound throughout the room. She hasn't laughed like that since her brother died. It brings a sad smile to Helaena's lips.

"You're prettier," Jaehaera whispers bashfully, her cheeks a healthy hue of pink.

"Oh, I don't know about that. You're much more beautiful. Do you know why?"

Jaehaera shakes her head, causing you to hold tightly onto the intricate plaits you're weaving in her hair. You inadvertently smile at her benightedness.

"Because you look just like your mummy, and she's very beautiful, and she's a Queen," you gasp lightly, creating a tone of excitement in your voice.

Although she's kept her nose down while stitching, Helaena's cheeks burn just as brightly as her daughters. Your words continue to flatter her. You have a way with words that can make even the most ordinary of townsfolk feel special.

With a small, excited gasp, Jaehaera asks, "Will I be Queen one day?"

"There's always a possibility," you hum, pining the remaining plait into her hair. It is hard to explain the complexities of succession and legacy to a child when there is a current war debating that same subject. "All done, go over to the mirror."

"She adores you," Helaena sighs as she watches her daughter fawn over her new hairstyle.

"And I, her. She's the sweetest girl ever."

Helaena turns to look at you and sees the soft smile gracing your lips. Your eyes then catch hers, and your smile broadens. It makes her wonder what her life would be like if you were not around. How would she have dealt with her emotions?

"I must go, but can you come to my bedchambers tonight? There is a matter I must discuss with you," Helaena says timidly, casting aside her embroidery.

"As you wish, my Queen." You can't fault her for preferring to speak in the depth of the night when the castle sleeps, and there are no wandering eyes to pass judgment.

It gives Helaena whiplash when you effortlessly switch from calling her name to calling her 'my Queen.' She rather enjoys both terms, especially when you call her yours.

Helaena bids you farewell with a kiss on the cheek, blissfully unaware of its effect on you. Such displays of affection are not rare in court, but lately, their significance has changed for you, as Helaena has never been one to indulge in court etiquette when it involves physical touch.

When the sun has disappeared over the horizon, and the castle has quieted down, you make your way to the Queen's bed chambers.

You have always been inclined to stay in the shadows, where it's safe. You are a sheep amongst a den of wolves, and if you draw too much attention to yourself, danger will follow.

You have failed so far, considering you enjoy the company of the King and Queen. Grief unexpectedly brought you together and made your bond steadfast, but wherever Aegon and Helaena go, watchful gazes follow, thus making you part of the spectacle as well.

Otto and Alicent Hightower are taking the reins of this unnecessary war, but you feel safe under Aegon's and Helaena's careful watch. You believe they will protect you from any danger coming from within the castle walls, at the very least.

You're doing your mother a great disservice as you strengthen the bond of the King and Queen. The ache of losing a child will forever remain in their hearts, and waves of pain continue to crash, but that thick fog of grief that was cast upon them has slowly started to lift, thanks to you.

Pushing open the door to Helaena's bedchambers, you step into the room. It's well into the night, and the candlelight illuminates the room. You stumble over your steps when you notice Aegon and Helaena standing close together as if they were about to kiss.

"My apologies, your graces. I believed the Queen to be alone," you bow your head, red painting your cheeks. It's a gesture that originates from embarrassment rather than submissiveness.

"Do not apologize. We wished to speak to you," Aegon speaks, beckoning you deeper into the room.

He offers you a goblet of wine, which you accept gracefully to alleviate the dizzying wave of nerves you're feeling. You've never been alone with Aegon and Helaena. People have always been around, and up to a fortnight ago, they barely spoke to one another.

The ruling couple sought your counsel regarding their marriage, recognizing you as an intermediary. You offered your advice to the best of your abilities, considering you have yet to marry.

With time and encouragement, they reached out to each other for comfort. Piece by piece, they were able to speak and share the emotions that troubled them. Nonetheless, they kept you closer than ever.

You're the calm amidst the storm.

You take a drink of the sweet wine to busy yourself. Helaena and Aegon stand side by side, his hand on the small of her back as Helaena plays with her fingers. They're backlit by the fire burning by the fireplace. It casts a warm glow over their figures, making the situation seem much more intimate. You're certainly intruding.

"We wish to thank you for everything you've done for us recently," Helaena breaks the creeping silence. She's just as nervous as you are, if not more.

"Helaena and I have been thinking about how to repay you for your generosity," Aegon continues, staring intently back at you to gauge your reaction to his words. He's afraid of reading you wrong and fucking things up—like he usually does.

You instantly shake your head, "As I said before, there is no need-"

Helaena's following words cause silence to befall as you stare back at them in surprise. A sort of surprise they cannot read. "We wish to wed you," Helaena blurts nervously, her fingers twisting together.

This is not a moment to speak in riddles. Helaena is fully aware of the situation before her and wishes nothing more than for you to stay by their side, no matter the cost.

For once in her life, she hasn't felt lonely in the castle. She has an ally she can trust and confide in.

You've been the subject of Aegon and Helaena's conversations for numerous nights. At first, it was difficult to understand that they both held deep affection towards you while caring for each other. They debated for a long time about what to do about it and they agreed on one thing wholeheartedly—you only deserved the best.

Then, it came to Aegon.

He's named after Aegon' The Conqueror' Targaryen. The King took over the seven kingdoms with his sister wives by his side.

A simple Valyrian tradition would solve their dilemma while strengthening his claim to the throne. It's poetic, a part of history being re-enacted.

"Pardon?" Your voice is barely above a whisper. You stare back at them with wide eyes as they jump from Aegon to Helaena and back to Aegon.

The goblet in your hand lightly shakes along with your hand. You place it on a nearby table, afraid of spilling it. Surely, you misheard.

"Our affection grows greater day by day. More than we ever thought possible," Helaena confesses, desperately reaching for your hand.

Your gaze falls on Aegon to seek his opinion, and he nods in agreement. There is not much to say. You have proved yourself valuable to them in a way that is much too important. You serve to keep them sane and emotionally stable. A feat no one has cared to accomplish before.

You do not use Aegon as a puppet or manipulate him to achieve sinister goals on behalf of his name, much like the rest of the court does. Those people only care for power, even if they break Aegon piece by piece. They destroy him while you take the time to pick up the pieces and put him back together.

"Such drastic actions must not be taken. I merely offered you comfort when you needed it because I care for you both," you stutter, pressing a hand to your forehead. All of a sudden, the room is warm, and a layer of perspiration forms on the back of your neck.

Aegon grunts and approaches you, cupping your face in his palms, "That is precisely why we wish to do this. You have cared for us like no one has before, including ourselves. You planted yourself in our souls, and now we cannot let you go lest we go insane. If you do not feel the same, say it, but do not lie to us."

His tone is firm, yet he cannot disguise the pleading behind it. He's never wanted something as much as he wants you.

"I-" Your palms ghost over the top of his.

It is all too much. The prospect of being wed looms over your head like a threat. Otto Hightower will have no qualms about using your lack of a husband as a war strategy. It should not be his decision in the first place, but it is out of your hands as you're considered a prisoner to him.

You would be a liar if you said you did not reciprocate their feelings. They've been present for a while now, it is why comforting them comes so easily to you. Seeing them hurt only pains you.

With this new opportunity, you will no longer be used. You will not be sold to some old lord in the countryside for the gain of a few hundred men. You would be protected.

Most importantly, you will marry a man and a woman who love you. Yes, they are broken, but with you by their side, they will thrive and rise to the occasion.

Aegon's lilac eyes beg you to accept their proposal. "I feel emotions I thought impossible. They are confusing and overwhelming, but they are real," you admit.

Relief floods over Aegon, and he can't help but release a sigh of relief. He presses his forehead against yours, whispering a silent thank you to the old gods and the new.

"Will you become our wife? Our lifelong companion?" Helaena asks, coming up behind you. You feel her breath on your neck as she leans her head on your shoulder.

One word is enough to respond. One simple word will change your life. For good or bad is to be determined.

"Yes," you breathe, reaching for her hand. The smile on Aegon's lips and Helaena's giggles in your ear make it all worth it.

Aegon needed to do things right so no one could argue against your union. He contacted the Septon himself, and only a day later, after his proposal, the Valyrian ceremony took place.

He clearly instructed his guard and the Septon that they must not tell anyone, or there would be consequences.

The ceremony is quick and private amongst the gardens of the Red Keep. You wear the traditional red and gold robes and headpieces that match Aegon's.

A red dragon decorates the front of your garb, matching Helaena's golden one on her dress. She stands to the side with a faint smile, Jaehaera clinging to her dress.

Aegon carefully cuts your lip with the dragon glass. As blood surges to the surface, he presses his thumb to the cut and later spreads it across your skin. You repeat the same on his lips, staring apologetically back at him, yet the burning pain does not compare to the pain he's felt before. It's almost pleasurable as he takes in the symbolism of the gesture.

Cutting your palms, you let the blood that will bind you together for eternity fall onto the goblet. You lock eyes with Aegon as you take a drink from it, passing it to him a moment later.

He was not raised surrounded by Targaryen customs, but he has a new deep appreciation for them. The ceremony is deeply intimate as they share the blood that will mark them as one.

With a couple of final words, the Septon concludes the ceremony and with the knowledge that you are entirely theirs, Aegon crashes his lips against yours.

Aegon stayed firm in his words. He did not wish to sully your name, so he waited until the moment was right. The reward is much too sweet.

It is the first time you've shared a kiss with Aegon, and it is unlike anything you've felt before. In the past, you've snuck kisses in dark corners of the Red Keep, but none have ever kissed you with the intensity Aegon has to offer.

Helaena approaches your tangled embrace, and as you resurface for a breath, she presses her much more delicate lips on yours. The kiss is so different yet the same simultaneously. The intent behind it is identical while the pace is slower and sultrier.

Yours and Aegon’s blood coats her lips and it’s as if she also partook on the ceremony. Your heart beats intensely inside your chest but you’re happy.

Finally, you three are bonded, destined to stay together for eternity.

Jaehaerys will forever be missed. His life has become a mystery; Aegon and Helaena will never see it fulfilled. But in this tragedy, the gods were kind to Aegon and Helaena and provided a new person to love, cherish, and join their family.

were you expecting a good old throuple situation? eh, eh (pretend i'm wiggling my eyebrows and nudging your side with my elbow). im just saying she's perfect for their little dysfunctional family and the drama it will create with the Hightowers and Targaryens? immaculate.

if you enjoyed this oneshot please don’t forget to like or comment (i accept keyboard smashes, emojis, words of encouragement, praise, virtual hugs and gushing about hel and aegon) and if you want more of it feel free to let me know!

[hitomisuzuya]

SUZU!!! I wanna say that your writing is so NGHH my go-to scaraspice writers 10/10 Can I request balladeer Scara (Like in the official Genshin universe when he's still in the Fatui) breeding us till he's all sweaty and panting? Like they're trying to see if he can actually produce offspring so they just fuck till they find out one day You're amazing, Suzu. Remember to take breaks and care for yourself! Have a great day/night!! <3

fatui!scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. breeding kink. degradation. multiple creampie. feral!scaramouche.

fatui scara has that extra mmm😳 everyone, feel free to listen to animal by magnolia park while reading. and thank you🥺 i am actually terrified of you all losing interest 😅

scaramouche is a man hell bent on one mission. and one mission only.

to fuck a baby inside of you.

he never even gave a shred of thought to such a weak, human need. until he met you. now the thought consumed him. breeding a baby inside of you would be the biggest fuck you to his..creator. abandoned at birth for crying, thought to be inadequate.

it would scream: look at what i did! he could kill two birds with one stone. giving his mother the middle finger, all while taking care of you and fucking you so good until you were dumb and drooling, his cum dripping from your cunt.

how that for inadequacy?!

he wasn't sure how many times his cock ribboned cum inside of you. panting and breathless, he would just reposition you and stuff his cock back inside of you.

flipping you over, he pulled your hips up and smacked your ass before bullying his cock back inside of you from behind. "i promise i'll fucking show her," he groaned, bottoming out with a languid stroke that made your finger nails claw into the sheets, "i'll fuck you so full, your pretty cunt won't be able to hold it all."

his cock made unholy noises squelching in and out of you. you buried your face in the pillows, pushing back against his cock as drool soaked onto the pillow. you'd been stuck in the same blissful cycle for what felt like hours.

your cervix was bound to be bruised, he is fucking you that keep. but you didn't care. the feeling of him devouring you felt too good. he more than made sure you were cumming hard on his cock before filling you. rinse and repeat.

"my lord, please! fuck me harder!" you cried out, breathless from your next orgasm already knotting intensely inside of you. "i can barely breathe!" you managed behind your moans. your overstimulated walls clutched like a glove around his cock.

scaramouche laughed drunkenly hearing you cry out his rightful title as lord. it made his cock pulse harder between your gummy walls. "shh, it's okay, kitten," he purred, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking your head up.

outside his tent, he was pretty sure his subordinates could hear how good he was fucking you.

you mewled as your walls squeezed tighter on his cock from the rough treatment. his tongue flicked out along the shell of your ear. "you just keep crying for me like a whore while i fuck you fuller," his hips snapped into yours with a vigor that wasn't going to fade.

his body shuddered in pleasure, wishing he could reach down and caress your stomach, feeling the deep buldge of his cock. he has to be thorough so your belly will swell with child.

he drooled at the thought, smacking his hand across your hair. his bangs clung sweaty to his forehead as he pumped his cock inside of you. his body was burning with the ache to cum inside of you more. "i'll fucking knock you up like i promised. make you my wife. how does that sound, slut?" he moaned, pinching and playing with one of your nipples.

he couldn't believe you and your pretty pussy were tempting him to something as human as marriage. but he never felt so sure of something in his life. he is so fucking in love in hurt. it was almost disgusting to him.

you only moaned louder. "please! please, that's what i want. so so much..." you babbled, reaching down to rub your clit to show how badly you want those things. how badly you want him.

your fierce declaration made his cock spurt cum inside of you, a satisfied groan sounding from him as he curved your back down. he groped around on your stomach, pushing on the buldge.

your orgasm jolted through you, tearing a near scream of pleasure from your throat. your body felt limp, your walls fluttering around his cock as he fucked his cum relentlessly up inside of you. he batted your hand away from your clit.

he delivered a soothing pinch before circling his thumb around the swollen bud. pulling out half way, your toes curled as he slowly pushed himself back in. "another. it isn't enough," he hissed, hastily pulling out and rolling you over onto your back.

you were trembling, and exhausted. lost in a haze of fucked out bliss. you nodded, barely able to sit up and place a few, submissive licks on his mouth. an action that made his cock harder.

you dedicated yourself to pleasing him with every fiber of his being. because he deserves it. he knew he deserved it. that much was evident as he smirked down at you.

rest assured he will have fucked you full five more times before you took that first pregnancy test.

[captain-huggy-bear]

A Little Misunderstanding

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lil' angsty at points, but ends sweet, lots of mutual pining and two idiots not realising the other is also in love with the other, meddling mothers (for the best this time)

Summary: Your parents assume that Quinn, the man you mention over the phone all the time, is in fact your boyfriend. He's very much not, but Quinn thinks its funny to pretend he is...until it gets a little too real and maybe some truths are told and feelings are aired.

Notes: Thank you to the anon who requested fake dating to lovers with Quinn, I had this idea which is a little different from the usual fake dating so I hope its okay and you still like it 😊

Tried to keep it ambiguous as to where the reader originated from so that us UK girlies can relate as well as anyone else not from Vancouver and/or Canada.

Reminder I typically use UK spellings because I'm English so...don't come at me if you wish I spelt it the US away. If I have to read US spellings all the time, you can handle the odd UK spelling

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

"When does your flight get in?" You balance your phone between your shoulder and ear, picking up a stray sock that had fallen out of your laundry basket as you attempt to tidy your apartment.

"7am your time, sweetheart, remember?" Your mother's voice rings clear down the line, familiar and warm. It's been a while since you saw either of your parents. You having moved all the way to Vancouver, more miles than you could count from your birthplace and hometown around two years ago. You were excited to have them finally able to come out and stay with you for a week, they'd never been to see you, and it had been a while since you'd been able to see your parents, not having time to fly to see them. While you were glad for the move to Vancouver, living in a completely different place away from your family wasn't always the easiest thing in the world. You so often felt like you were having to fend for yourself without much of a support network. Luckily you'd made some good friends in the time you'd been in Van.

"Quinn offered to come with me to pick you and dad up, we'll be there waiting for you so don't worry about getting an Uber." You dropped Quinn's name casually because that's what it was, he was just another part of your existence. Your friend, who admittedly you had a small crush on, but just your friend nonetheless. Just because you thought he was beautiful and wanted to kiss him didn't mean you were allowed to kiss him or that he'd even want to kiss you. He was a friend who happened to be a man and you both happened to be single. This had not changed for two years and wasn't likely to any time soon.

"Oh, Quinn'll be there?" Your mother's voice was suddenly more upbeat, excited. She'd been eager to meet Quinn for months now, you're not sure why she finally took an interest in one of your friends but you can't help but be glad. Quinn had become a massive part of your life, a support network you very much needed when you'd first come to a strange new place all by yourself. He was part of the fabric of your life now, and you knew he'd charm your parents without even thinking about it. It shouldn't matter to you that your parents like your friend, its not like Quinn was your boyfriend, but it did matter to you. You wanted them to like him as much as you did because you wanted him around for the foreseeable future.

"Yeah, I mentioned you were coming to visit the other day and his car is bigger than mine, so he offered to come along, he has to get up early most days anyway so he's not too bothered by it." It helped that Quinn had a couple of days off, but still you were thankful. He could have spent his rare enough free time doing something much more enjoyable than helping you pick your parents up from the airport.

"Your father and I look forward to meeting him, we've heard so much about him, darling!"

There's something about your mother's tone that makes you stop for a second suddenly feeling a little awkward about the whole thing. Maybe it's just how eager she is or maybe it's something else, but there's a little red flag waving in the back of your mind with some small print on that you just can't quite read yet.

"Right...um, look I'll see you tomorrow morning then? I gotta get everything ready for you guys."

"Of course, of course! We love you!"

"Love you too, mum."

"You're sure you don't mind?" You look over at Quinn from the passenger seat, the two of you look exhausted, big bags under your eyes and even bigger hoodies to hide in because a 5am wake up to get to the airport in time was just a little much for both of you. This early in the morning it's still dark and the streetlights do something to Quinn's face that makes him even more handsome than usual, even as he looks like he might fall back asleep at any minute. It doesn't help that his scruff has grown out or that his hair is in those perfect waves he always seems to get even when he's just taken his bucket off.

"I wouldn't have offered if I did, besides the amount of time we spend together isn't it about time I met your parents? You've met mine." He smiles over at you, cheeky, the sort of Quinn most people didn't see. It's silly that it makes your cheeks feel warm, he's just your friend. You shouldn't be flustered by him.

"Your parents are at as many of your games as possible, of course I've met them."

"So are you. Sue me for wanting to meet the parents of one of my best friends."

"I'm your best friend?" You lean your head back on the headrest, tilting slightly to grin at him all silly. Quinn can see it from the corner of his eye and as much as it's ridiculous, that little grin makes you even more beautiful than normal.

"One of." He rolls his eyes at you, partly because of your silliness and partly rolling his eyes at himself. You're his friend. He shouldn't feel this way about you, men can have female friends...he just can't seem to have you as a female friend without wanting to kiss you at any given opportunity. It's becoming difficult, even more so in the early morning when the low light level puts your face in stark contrast and your hoodie, one of his, makes you look so cozy and sweet.

"That's just your way of avoiding admitting how much you love me and need me in your life."

Quinn's cheeks flush bright red, so bright that even the low light can't hide it nor hide the way he bites back a smile at you, eyes fixed on the road and the last few miles to the airport.

"...Shut up."

The silence that fills the car is comfortable, the sort that comes about from spending so much time together. You have friends that aren't Quinn, of course you do, but Quinn had been your first friend in Vancouver. He'd shown you around and made time for you in his incredibly busy schedule. You were often the first person he saw when he came off a roadie and the last person to see him before he left for one. There were nights when you stayed round Quinn's after a game or vice versa. You spent so much time together that you simply coexisted, being around Quinn was as easy as breathing. You rarely argued or disagreed and when you did it was always resolved properly. You simply worked. There wasn't ever much to think about with Quinn. You could just...shut off.

"Thank you, though...seriously." You take a moment, thinking how to word your next few thoughts, your warning as the signs for the airport come into full view, "Just, my mum seems really eager to meet you so...just brace yourself."

"Eager?"

"You know when your parents are excited to meet a new partner?" You think back to the few times you'd introduced a boyfriend to your mum, the excitement that she exuded...it was starting to concern you that she was that excited to just meet your friend. Because that's all Quinn was. Your friend. Not your boyfriend. Your friend, you remind yourself, even as he looks so good smiling over at you with his beard. He'd let it grow out just enough that he looked rugged and mature.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, she's that sort of excited which is really weird...she normally doesn't' care that much about my friends. Just, sorry, if she's really weird about it?" It's awkward enough talking about, you and Quinn have always stayed firmly platonic, you didn't talk about the fact that people assumed you were dating or even the concept of it. Talking about it felt...it felt like you were opening the curtains up, letting him see in a little too far.

"You didn't tell her we were married or something, did you?"

"Quinn! Shut up!" He laughs so loud that you can't actually be that mad at him, not when he's grinning at you like that, not when he's been so stressed as of late about the performance of his team. Even if it's at your expense.

"What? Just checking! For all I know you could have told her we got married in Vegas during one of my games or something?"

"If I'm telling my mum I'm married to you, it'll be because I'm actually married to you, you idiot." You roll your eyes at him, arms crossing over your chest as you turn to look out the window.

"Oh, so you do want to marry me?" He's joking, but he's not...he's thought about it. There's not a day that Quinn hasn't thought about what it would be like to be yours and you be his, not since he met you...and then promptly managed to land himself so far into the friendzone that he was scared to crawl his way out lest he leave you behind in the process.

"...I hate you."

"No you don't." His voice is singsong in intonation and sweet and he's right because you love him and it hurts...god, it hurts how much you love someone you can't have. Someone you see every day, someone who is so deeply ingrained in your life that removing him would be like carving a hole into your own chest.

You just sit and glare at him, even as a heavy sort of sadness hits, as he pulls up into one of the parking bays for collecting passengers.

It's okay that he's just your friend, you remind yourself as you get out of the car. It's okay because he's the best friend you could ask for, he's here at 6.45 am in the morning to collect your parents from the airport, not because he was asked or because he had to, but because he wanted to. You can live with loving him in silence, so long as you always have him around.

"I think they're over this way, probably, near gate 1?" You're just getting your bearings, trying to figure out roughly where your parents will come out at after they find their things from baggage claim when you hear it.

"My baby!" The squeal of a middle aged woman who hasn't seen her daughter in far too long pierces the air. You barely have time to brace yourself for impact before your mother is wrapping you up in a gigantic hug and pressing as many kisses to your face as possible, you know without a doubt her signature mauve lipstick is smudged all across your skin.

Your father stands behind her, rolling his eyes in amusement but the smile he gives you is no less warm, "Hey there, princess."

"Hi, mum, hi, dad," You pull yourself free from your mother just long enough to get a long awaited hug from your father, big and warm and so familiar that you almost feel like crying. How long has it been since you last hugged your dad? Half a year? Nine months? Longer? You sometimes don't realise how much you miss something until you get it back.

When you turn back around your mother is already pulling Quinn into a hug that he accepts, if a tad awkwardly, his hands patting her on the back like he's not quite sure how hugs work.

She has his face in her hands before you can intervene, overly familiar and friendly as she grins up at him like he's made her day just by existing. "You must be Quinn, Y/N's boyfriend..."

"Oh, he's n-" You're pretty sure your eyes bug out of your head, startled by the suggestion because at no point in the last few years of living in Vancouver had you ever called Quinn your boyfriend. Ever.

You're cut off by Quinn who's grinning at you wickedly over the top of your mother's head like he's just been giving the greatest Christmas present he could ever ask for and in that moment you know...you know that he is going to make your life very difficult with this tiny piece of information.

"Yeah, hi, nice to meet, the boyfriend, that's me." God, he wishes it was true. There's nothing more he wants in that moment than to be able to say to your mom that you are 100% his girlfriend, but he can't...he can, however, enjoy the roleplaying while it lasts. He can't really stop himself, not when you look so aghast at your mother calling him your boyfriend, not when he can use this to tease you for at least the next 30 years. He grew up with 2 brothers, sue him for taking advantage of the situation.

"Quinn!"

"What? Am I not allowed to call myself your boyfriend anymore?" He sidles up to you, slipping out from your mother's grip to pull you into his side. His arm rests naturally over your shoulder, yours finding his waist, and it is natural...because you've done this a million times before. The kiss he presses to your hair is new though, different and as much as your mum clearly believes the ruse, you can see your father just looks amused. Something tells you he knows this is all an act, but he finds it enjoyable to watch. Typical. No support from him when you need it most. Dads.

"Oh, she's just grouchy in the mornings, has been ever since she was a baby!" Your mother looks at the two of you with such pride that you're certain her heart actually might break when she finds out Quinn isn't actually your boyfriend. You've never seen her look so happy with your choice in a man before and you're certain she won't be able to cope when you have to inevitably tell her that it was either a) a lie or b) that Quinn just wasn't the guy for you (another lie just to make your life more complicated).

"Mum!"

"Oh don't worry, I know just how grouchy my baby can be in the mornings." This time he presses a kiss to your cheek and when he does, you hiss lowly in his ear, 'I'm going to kill you.' and Quinn can't help but laugh at you, biting his lip at how much fun he's having riling you up.

"Here let me take your bags, Mrs Y/L/N," Quinn's bending down before your mother can even begin to protest, her carry on backpack being slung over his shoulder and pulling up the handle of her suitcase to wheel it behind him.

"Oh, you don't have to, Quinn!"

"I insist." He knows he's making it harder on you, can see the look you give him because he's just going to make your mother fall in love with him. But, even as he enjoys riling you up, he was also raised right and he's not letting your mother carry her own bags.

Your mother hangs back with you while your father and Quinn start walking ahead with the suitcases. She slips her arm through yours walking with you to keep up, as she does so she does a very bad attempt at whispering. The sort of whispering that means you know Quinn can hear every word and is probably enjoying it immensely.

"He's such a gentleman..."

"Yeah, a real gentleman." You mutter sarcastically, watching the way his shoulders rise and fall in a silent laugh that he's no doubt doing his best to swallow down.

"Don't be grumpy, he's just being sweet on you. You should be glad for such a loving boyfriend..." Your mother scolds you before raising her voice back to normal, Quinn and your father slowing down slightly to help keep the four of you together, "So, Quinn, my daughter tells me you're a hockey player?"

"Yeah, you talk about me, baby?" Quinn's grin is wide, and you can't help the warmth that fills your entire face because you can't actually deny it. You talk about Quinn all the time, he's your best friend and whenever your mother phones, you inevitably talk about him. Whether it was a game of his you went to or a coffee place you'd visited together or gala he'd invited you to. Maybe, you talked about him too much? Maybe, it was obvious in the way you talked about him that you loved him? Maybe that's why your mother had made such a large assumption about your relationship status. Maybe this was your fault, why wouldn't she assume you were dating?

"She talks about you all the time. Quinn this, Quinn that...did you know that Quinn did this today and broke this record?"

"Mum..." You groan out, looking to your dad for help but all he does is shrug his shoulders at you, amusement bright in his eyes. Even if he could do something you know he wouldn't because he's clearly enjoying your torture.

Quinn can't help it, the tables seem to reverse. You're embarrassed still, but now he is too, bright red in the face, ears flushed the colour of a fire engine and a hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. All because you talk about him to your parents...you talk about him when he's not around...he feels like a twelve year old, giddy because his crush smiled at him for the first time.

"I play for the NHL."

"Vancouver Canucks, wasn't it?" Your mother asks as the four of you step out into the cold Canadian air, her attention making Quinn squirm and you smile, enjoying the discomfort being swapped around for a moment.

"Yeah, I'm the captain of the team." He smiles at your mother awkwardly as he opens the boot of the car and starts to pile in the suitcases, organising them in just the right way that they fit without hassle.

Your father chimes in as he lifts his own suitcase into the back, Quinn helping him shove it back further, "That's impressive, I used to play field hockey myself, never got out of the amateur league but got a few bruises in my time. You had an injury recently right?"

You still remember phoning your mum to talk about it, at first worried and then over time growing more and more frustrated with how sullen Quinn was being. He'd grown restless from not being able to play hockey and you'd been his distraction, a distraction that had grown fed up with his moping no matter how much you loved him.

"I've had a few this year, most recently my hand." He raises his braced hand, the brace a point of annoyance to him at this point in time. He was itching to be done with it, but put up with it because it meant he could still play hockey at the moment.

"Oh, you shouldn't have been carrying my bag then, Quinn!" Your mother fusses over him, flapping about as if she might have a miracle cure for his hand injury.

"Honestly, it's fine! It looks worse than it is, I promise. I wouldn't get away with it otherwise, this one would kill me." He nods his head at you as he closes the boot, opening one of the backdoors for your mother to slide inside.

"Damn right I'd kill you, I cannot take more days of you moping that you can't play hockey and that you're bored despite my amazing company."

"You know I enjoyed spending time with you, sweetheart...but..."

"But, you can't live without hockey, yeah, I know..."

He follows you round to the passenger side door, opening it for you like a gentleman and letting you slide inside. You find yourself enjoying the attention even as you catch your mother's eye in the rear view mirror, a little smirk reaching her lips as she watches Quinn buckle you in. Something he does from time to time when he's feeling particularly sweet...because he was a good friend.

"So, Quinn, how did you meet our daughter? I'm not sure she ever mentioned it?"

The entire ride home is filled with your mother peppering Quinn with questions, encouraging him to talk more and more about your 'relationship'. Everything from when you first met to the first date you went on (which Quinn told her was the first time he took you ice skating, you were under the impression that that was a friendly family skate event and most certainly not a date).

The conversation lulls while you set your parents up in your spare bedroom, helping them settle themselves and showing them around your apartment. They hadn't ever seen it in person and they spent half the time cooing over your choices, the photos of family and friends on the wall, the ones of you and Quinn, as well as your mother checking your fridge and telling you to buy more vegetables.

It's as you're sitting down to a breakfast of pre-bought croissants and pain au chocolat that your mother restarts her question. This time even more invasive than the first.

"So Quinn, when did you know?"

"Mm? Know what?" Your best friend looks at your mother with furrowed brows, taking a sip of his orange juice and almost choking on it when she proceeds to clarify her question.

"When you loved my daughter."

There's a long beat of silence where your eyes stay fixated on your plate, watching your own hands intently as you spread Nutella inside your croissant, far too focused on that to be anything casual or calm. You're certain you're going to be sick because he doesn't love you but you love him and your poor mother is so oblivious and this...this is going too far, it feels like it's gone too far.

"Expected answer or honest answer?"

"Honest answer."

"The second week I knew her." Your head snaps up with a start only to find Quinn looking directly at you, green eyes crinkling softly at the corners. "She heard that I had been hurt on the ice the night before and she stormed round my apartment with a bunch of food, medicine and a blanket. Spent the whole day looking after me and making me watch 90s movies I hadn't watched growing up. No one outside my family had ever done that for me before...it made me realise that if I wasn't already in love, I would be pretty quick." You almost believe him, the way he looks at you, the way he speaks so softly. Almost.

You look down at your plate, tears welling in your eyes because you know he doesn't mean it. He's spinning a yarn for your mother and it hurts that he would go that far when you both know this is all some ruse he's decided to pull. You swallow hard and take a bite of your croissant, refusing to look at him for the rest of breakfast.

You won't meet his eyes until he goes to leave after breakfast, your parents hanging back so you can say goodbye to your 'boyfriend'.

"Mind if I come over after dinner? We could watch a movie with your parents?"

"Quinn..." You go to challenge him on his behaviour today, but the words won't come out.

"What?"

"Nothing...uh, sure, after dinner?"

"After dinner, baby."

You want to tell him off as he says it, as he presses a kiss to your cheek so your parents can see because you aren't his baby and he's hurting you. He's hurting you without realising it because you so desperately want to be his baby. But, you don't. You just watch him walk away down the corridor of your apartment building and out of sight before getting ready to show your parents around Vancouver for the day.

You try to put the whole thing out of your mind throughout the day, showing your parents the sights of Vancouver, including the arena...but it's hard when they keep bringing Quinn back up and asking about your feelings. They probe you for half the day and it's emotionally exhausting balancing the truth with the half-truth, even more so knowing that they're going to be just as disappointed as you are when they realise your relationship with Quinn is just a sham, a charade, a fake.

Eventually they seem to grow bored of talking about the topic, however, and dinner goes relatively smoothly, you taking them to a nice restaurant Quinn had shown you back in your first couple of months in Vancouver. Even that feels bittersweet though, filled with memories of the two of you dining together. You can't help but feel like the whole issue needs addressing as you get them back home and pop a film on ready for Quinn's arrival.

When he arrives he continues the act as if it isn't one, greeting you at the door with a kiss to the cheek and pulling you down onto the loveseat opposite your parents, curling one arm around your shoulders and urging you to lay against him, your cheek pressed into his chest. In some ways it's familiar, not an act, because you cuddle for movies all time, completely platonically of course, but both of you are touchy feely and it's always been part of your dynamic. In others though? The way he talks to you, the pet names, kisses to your hair, that is all new, all a way to show your parents he's the 'doting boyfriend', even though he's not your boyfriend at all.

Your parents lap it up, every now and then you catch them smiling at each other and then over to the two of you and you can't help but feel heavy with it. With this feeling of unrequited affection. You love Quinn, you've known that for a while now, but it was easy to be around him because you didn't need to address it. You could love him in silence and from afar...you had never considered how hard it would become when what you wanted most was being dangled in front of you like a carrot on a string.

Quinn has a similar dilemma going on in his own head. He's always known he loved you more than a friend, even when you barely knew each other...had he been braver he would have asked for your number for a date that first day, not so that he could show you around a new city as a 'friend'. But, he'd been a coward and since then he'd continued to be. He enjoyed every ounce of affection he got from you, every hug, every cuddle, ever time you held his arm at an event, all while feeling like that had to be enough...now he's had more? He's not sure it'll ever be enough, he's greedy for you. Greedy for your affection, your attention, greedy in the way he wants to keep kissing you, keeping calling you sweet names and greedy for the way you grow bashful. Greedy for more than just being your friend...he's given himself a taste of what life could be like and now he can't forget it.

It's halfway through the movie, your legs slung over Quinn's lap and his fingers carding through the ends of your hair when your parents stand with a groan from the other couch.

"Princess?" You lift your head to look at your father, who's stretching out his back after sitting for so long.

"Yeah, dad?"

"Your mother and I are getting a little tired...we're going to go to bed, if that's alright with you two?"

"Of course, don't let us keep you up." Quinn confirms your own thoughts as well, telling your parents it's not problem at all. It's all so...so domestic.

Your dad presses a kiss to the top of your head, as does your mother, before yourself and Quinn wish them goodnight. You wait until you see the door to the spare room start to close, not waiting for it to do so fully, before turning to Quinn. You pull out of his arms, the missing warmth of you an immediate loss to him, but it has him sitting up straight and taking you seriously.

Your face is sullen, sad, eyebrows pinched, mouth turned down into a frown and he's alarmed to see that your eyes are glassy like you might cry.

"Why on earth would you let my parents think we're dating? Why would you tell my mother you're in love with me?" You're certain you're going to cry, angry, frustrated and sad all in one. Lovesick because it hurts to hear him tell your mother he was in love with you when you know he's not.

"Why not?" He frowns at you, hands reaching out but you keep just out of reach as if touching him is the last thing you want. You've never shied away from Quinn's touch and he recoils, breathing a little heavier out of anxious worry that he's upset you, that he's fucked this up. Maybe you've been uncomfortable with his touch all day? Has he been making you uncomfortable all day? Is he one of those guys?

"Because we're not dating and you're not in love with me, Quinn. My mother is certain we're going to get married and I'll stop being an old spinster! You're getting her hopes up." The unspoken words lay heavy on your tongue, 'you're getting my hopes up', you want to say.

"Who said I didn't love you? Who said I didn't want to marry you?" The look he gives you isn't the cheeky one he's had all day, it's not joking or silly, it's dead serious. He scoots closer to you, but doesn't reach out for you this time. But, Quinn can't help but want to be close to you, to be drawn into your orbit, into your gravity.

"Quinn..."

"What?"

"You're being mean..." Your voice is filled with tears, wet, pathetic sounding and you choke back a sob as a tear falls down your cheek because he's being so mean...he can't dangle that in front of you, everything you've ever wanted, not when he doesn't actually mean it.

He realises in that moment that you don't believe him. You believe he's spent the entire morning and evening telling lies, saying that he loves you when he doesn't, that you're that important to him when you aren't. You believe he's being mean because you don't believe him, that the tears are because you think he's holding this thing, this idea out in front of you, only to snatch it away.

"Look, I said a lot today...but none of it was a lie." He can't help himself this time, hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb wiping away that pesky tear that shouldn't have been there in the first place. It's the way you lean into his touch that brings him a sense of confidence, of relief, you wouldn't do that if you didn't want him touching you.

"I know our first date wasn't a date, just a stupid family skate I was too scared to ask you out to as more than just a friend. I wish it had been a date and I wish I had been brave enough from the start to tell you I didn't just want to be your friend."

"Quinn..."

"And I was telling the truth...when your mother asked me when I fell in love with you." He tugs you closer, until your legs are back over his lap and your practically sitting on top of him, arms wrapping around your lower back and pulling you closer. The way he stares up at you is nothing short of reverent.

"Q..."

"The second week we knew each other you came to look after me when no one else did...and I knew...I knew that I was going to love you and that I was stupid for not asking you out in the first place...but I was...I was too scared to say anything. I didn't want to lose my new friend...I thought..." He hesitates, tongue coming out to nervously brush against his bottom lip, capturing your attention like a magpie with a shiny button.

"You thought?" You're whispering, quiet as if to speak any louder might scare him, might disrupt this little bubble you've found yourself in.

"I thought having a tiny bit of you...any bit, was better than having none of you at all." Quinn confesses, shifting you on his lap as your legs fall either side of his hips until you're so close your noses brush.

"Is it?"

"It was...for a bit..." It's self-deprecating, sardonic, like he finds himself ridiculous, foolish.

"And now?"

"And now I've had a taste of what it's like to love you, to be able to kiss you and hold you...call you mine...and now I'm greedy and it's not enough...Baby, it'll never be enough."

"You...you love me?" It's like even after all of this, everything he's said, every tender touch, you still don't quite believe him. It's hard to believe that everything you've ever wanted is sat in the palm of your hand just waiting for you to capture it, to take it. That your feelings, the ones you believed were unrequited for two years, were actually returned all along.

"I love you...and...um, if...if you'll have me, maybe I could be your real boyfriend this time?" His face is bright red, so warm to the touch when you're fingers reach out to trace his cheeks that you're surprised he doesn't combust.

"I'd like that...I...I love you too,"

"So...I'm your boyfriend?" He says it like he doesn't quite believe it, the beauty mark on his cheek moving as he grins up at you giddy like a little kid getting his first bag of sweets.

"You're my boyfriend." You press a kiss to that beauty mark without overthinking it...because you can now, because now it's not a lie when you tell your parents he's your boyfriend, because now you're allowed to kiss him and hold him and tell him how much you love him.

"Fuck...that sounds good."

He can't help but just stare up at you from where you're straddling his lap. The healthy glow to your skin, the soft smile directed down at him, the way you seem to curl into him like you're not close enough even now. God, you're beautiful and you're his...you're finally his and he's yours and...and he can't comprehend that the thing he wanted to happen for so long has finally happened. What had he been scared of all this time? He could have been with you for two years, instead he'd squandered it out of fear...

"Quinn?" Your voice is soft, melodic, so so sweet that almost closes his eyes at the sound.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Kiss me?" You whisper as if it's shameful to ask, as if you've asked for something more sordid than a simple kiss...your first kiss together at that.

"Anything for my girl."

He's gentle in the way he cups your neck and jaw with one large hand, thumb pressing just below your jaw bone as he pulls you in. There's nothing rushed about the way Quinn presses your lips together, the smooth glide of his bottom lip against your top. Even the way his tongue brushes against your lip until you open up for him is slow, steady, adoring. You can't help the way you sigh into him, fingers gliding through dark chocolate strands, eyes closing shut with the sense of home, sense of relief that you find in him.

The two of you lose yourselves in each other, slow kisses, wandering hands, nothing too extreme, but a new found intimacy that you're finally allowed to indulge in before you curl back up together to watch the remainder of the movie. Watch being a loose term for what you're really doing.

"Did you know?" Your father turns his eyes away from the scene outside the spare bedroom, the way you're curled up in Quinn's arms like you were always supposed to be there. Neither of you realising that the spare bedroom door had never fully closed, both your parents eavesdropping like Samwise Gamgee.

"That they weren't actually together, dear?" Your mother looks sly and devious as she looks over at her husband. The face of the woman he loves, but also fears in equal measure.

"Yes."

"Of course I knew...but I figured they could both use a shove in the right direction, I mean, look at them?" Your parents both turn to watch the two of you, the way you curl up together on the couch is the epitome of young love. There's no real watching of a movie happening, instead Quinn's fingers are rubbing circles into your shoulder, while you look up at him lovingly from where you're curled against his chest. Every now and then he dips his head down to press a kiss against your forehead, and each time you giggle, face pressing briefly into his neck. The giddy feeling of a new, fresh love, making film watching the least of your interests.

"They just needed a little push." Both your parents smile at each other even as your father playfully scolds his wife, "You're a meddlesome woman."

"And you love me for it."

"Yes, yes I do."

Perhaps it took a bit of meddling, a fake misunderstanding, but that would be their little secret...at least for now. Your mother was rather looking forward to seeing you squirm in the future as you reveal the truth, that you hadn't actually been dating Quinn as long as you said. Yes, she certainly was happy to help, but she also was still your mother and lying to your mother was certainly not the done thing. A little squirming was good for you sometimes, but first, she'd let you enjoy the fresh bloom of love...and she'd go easy on you.

[eloquentlytired]

old!logan howlett x fem reader

18+ mdni

the taxi driver

pairing: old!logan howlett x fem reader word count: 3k tags: taxi driver logan - build up - eventual smut - large age gap ( reader in/over mid 20s and logan in his 50s ) - singular mention of thr0wing up and dr*gging - savior logan - some surface wounds - logan loves calling u sweet girl and sweetheart author's note: i wrote this hurriedly bc in case u havent noticed my blog has been full of old logan for a reason.. i too have become addicted w him- reblogs and likes are very welcome! ^_^

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“where to, sweetheart?” logan asks and you speak your address to him so softly that he almost misses it.

the drive is smooth and there's no real disturbance except some distant honking.

when the light is red and the cars remain static, he gazes at you through the review mirror. there’s a notebook in your lap which you seem to write in frantically. it is almost amusing how fast you're doing it too; the words probably look like childish scribbling.

“that pencil must be suffering.” his gruff voice makes you jump a little and you look up at him, feeling your skin grow warm when you realize what he means.

“it does. I gathered a whole collection of tortured pencils after getting into university.”

your reply amuses him even further and he offers a low hum as he starts the car again as soon as the light turns green. when logan finally takes you home, you hand him the money and wish him a good day.

“be good to your pencils.” is all the older driver offers before nodding at you.

the next time you see him, you're running late and there are tears in your eyes. tears that soon start falling when logan asks what happened.

you're glad it's him — you didn't want to be crying in front of a total stranger. he was a stranger but kind of familiar?

you wipe your cheeks and tell him you're in a hurry to go to university.

he drives fast but carefully — and he's sharp with it too.

“you’re absolute gold,mister.” you whisper stunned because this man has driven you five minutes early to your exam; if it was another driver he'd surely not give a fuck to be fast.

as always you hand him the money and you thoughtlessly press a kiss on his cheek while speaking so many thank yous to him.

“go. ace that exam.” logan offers a sympathetic look before you're running off to the gates.

he has no clue about the faint mark of lipstick that's tattooed on his cheek until his next customer points it out. there's some embarrassment there but also a smile that ghosts over his mouth as he wipes it away.

“third time's a charm.” you say smiling when you enter logan’s taxi. again.

he's just in time after you called; the weather will evidently grow bad and you're in no mood to be walking or waiting for some different transportation to take you home.

logan shares a faint smile with you; it's rare but it's there.

“where we going this time, sweet girl?” he asks and peers at you from the review mirror. his eyes always hold some sort of intensity that makes you shift in your seat. he notices but says nothing.

“just my home.” you reply dumbly and logan simply stares at you, unable to suppress that smile of his.

you realize how dumb your answer is because why would he remember your address? it's been a while and he has tons of customers everyday.

“gosh,I'm an idiot. my address—”

he surprises you by driving off absurdly, the motion startling you and making you grip the door. logan chuckles and shakes his head. “i know.”

oh. he does remember. you pray to reach your house before the upcoming thunderstorm but life has cursed you and the road is packed with unmoving cars. you will be stuck in there for a while for sure.

when the first thunder strikes, you yelp and cover your ears with your hands. you and logan stare at each other through the review mirror and you mumble a soft apology to him. all he wants to do is run his fingers through your hair and tell you it'll be okay.

another thunder roars and you helplessly pull your knees to your chest while resting your chin on top of them. logan deciphers the situation and before he's in the unpleasant moment of having your poor self break down, he reaches for the radio.

his favorite station is always on, he's at an age where he suffers from anything bass boosted or heavy. the jazz music that drowns the car is loud but not unpleasant. you stare at him surprised and when you realize he's done it for you, so you won't be scared, you smile so widely.

you can't talk since the music is loud but logan asks if this is okay with a nod and you nod back, still smiling. thank you, you mouth and he turns his head just a little to wink — nothing weird or bad. he just wants you to laugh again and you do.

“thank you once again,mister.” you mumble when he parks right outside of your home. logan gives his usual hum and turns to look at you again, his eyes regarding you with affection.

“see ya, sweet girl.” he says and you lean forward with purpose this time to press another kiss on his cheek. logan says nothing as he watches you go and by the time he gets another customer notifying him of the lipstick mark, he doesn't clean it up.

“what the fuck happened?” logan growls and he looks at the backseat where you're sitting, crying your eyes out. this was probably the second time he asks you something like that.

you don't reply and it worries him to his core.

“sweetheart.” you feel a calloused palm press on your knee and it momentarily distracts you from crying. you look at logan’s hand, the one he's outstretched to touch you.

your tears filled eyes stare at him for a long time before you tell him everything. “they put something in my drink. the ice in my drink..it just..and then everything began spinning so I left—" you mumbled in panic between intense sobs.

logan felt his blood boiling. “who? tell me who.”

after a few moments of convincing you reveal it to him — what the man looks like, what he's wearing and where he's sitting. logan enters the bar he's just picked you up from and you wait in the backseat of his taxi. silently and anxiously.

logan returns moments later and your heart raises to your throat. you can barely speak as you take in his bloodied sight — the blood on his shirt and knuckles, the cut he's sporting under his eye and a bruise that occupies the side of his jaw. but whatever blood is on his shirt doesn't belong to him.

“you should've seen the other guy.” logan says and he's smiling, and then you're smiling too.

you're throwing up in the middle of nowhere as logan holds your hair back with a single hand while his other hand strokes your middle. once you're done, he gives you a few tissues and reassuring words.

“it’s good you threw that shit out yar system, sweetheart. ya did good.” and the praise makes your heart throb. logan shakes his head as you stammer out a few apologies about dragging him around like this — he is glad to have helped. he is glad it was him you called and not another.

you two find a convenience store on your way back and decide to take a break. he watches with amusement as the first thing you do is buy toothpaste and a toothbrush while he takes care of some other needs — like water and something for you to snack on after everything.

he is waiting, sitting on his car hood when you return from the bathroom. you smile at him and he feels relieved to see you doing better than those few hours ago when he found you. to his surprise you sit by his side, your arms touching.

“thank you for everything. I feel like you're my guardian angel at this point.” he simply shakes his head while shoving his hands in his pockets.

“i’m no guardian. just a driver.” logan replies and his eyes find yours as you chew on the crackers he's bought you.

he stares at your wide eyes, your pouty cheeks and those lips that have occupied his cheek twice. logan shamelessly thinks he wants them a third time on him.

when the night breeze gets too much for your exposed shoulders, he's taking off his jacket without a second thought and putting it around you. you lean on him wordlessly and logan doesn't push you off. one of his arms settle around you before his calloused palm pulls you close by your shoulder.

“mister?” you call out and look up at him, your cheek squishing against his shoulder.

“spill it, sweetheart.” he says in a gruff voice.

“you never told me your name.” and logan realizes you're right — he should've introduced himself sometime ago, right? “it’s logan.” he says after sometime of simply staring at you.

“logan.” you repeat and if it was possible he'd melt right there and then because of how gentle you are with speaking his name.

he doesn't expect you to block his entrance when he's heading for the driver's seat. your eyes stare up at him, sparkling and pleading, and logan is a weak man. he curses himself.

“logan.” you moan softly as he kisses your throat while hovering over you in the backseat of his taxi. logan wants nothing more than to take you but he also wants to be slow — to be kind with you. what have you done to him?

he asks your permission for every piece of clothing he wishes to remove and you kiss his face every time for it.

when you're both bare — minus logan’s trousers which simply pool around his ankles — he worships you like no one else has done before.

logan presses passionate and possessive kisses at the center of your throat, then the space between your breasts before going further down. “o-oh.” when his beard scratches against your navel, your whimpers grow louder and he can sense how sensitive you are. he can smell the heat on you too.

“so sweet.” your thighs are on his shoulders as his face disappears between them. your entire body trembles while logan devours the weeping storm in between your legs, his tongue licking at your folds like a starved man before he's wrapping his lips around your clit.

it's a lot and you simply grip his hair while crying out. logan grunts and sucks on that sensitive bud hungrily before sliding his tongue low to your entrance. he gives it a rough lick before pulling away to create some space for his hand.

the slide of his first finger is smooth because you're dripping for him, all over, and he praises himself for holding back.

when he adds the third finger and goes knuckles deep inside you, he feels your gummy walls clenching around him so tight. logan curls his fingers and you shudder, your thighs trembling on top of his shoulders.

“please—” you whimper and he's grinning at you while thrusting his fingers in and out of your hole. the sweat that slowly forms at your nape does not bother you. the only thing bothering you is that logan isn’t fucking you yet — with something more than his fingers.

“please what, sweet girl?” he asks and you draw a sharp breath when he flicks your clit with his tongue while driving his fingers deeper into your pussy.

you flutter around him and whine. “fuck me. please fuck me.”

logan is fixated on your eyes as you straddle him and sink down his cock. you react at the same time, groaning, as the thickness penetrates you and stretches you out endlessly.

you sway your hips once experimentally then twice and you already feel so full.

“logan.” you moan and your hands grip his shoulders for support.

“come ‘ere, sweet girl.” he grumbles and slides both of his hands around your thighs, squeezing them hard.

you're confused at first until he's leaning his face forward and kissing you. there's a fondness in your heart when that beard brushes against your cheeks and you smile before returning the kiss; it's passionate but slow. patient. exactly how you'd been with each other until now.

you do most of the work raising your hips until only the head of his cock is nestled within you and then you fall back down, taking him in deeper than ever. you bounce on his lap and when logan slaps your ass with his hands, your walls tighten around his cock.

he does it again. and again. until he knows your skin has grown tender beneath his hands and aching. he can tell by the way you whimper into his shoulder as you ride him, your buttocks slamming against his hips.

"you on the pill, sweetheart?" logan has to ask for obvious reasons. you nod and his cock throbs inside you as something in him snaps. his fingers dig into the sensitive skin of your ass and he slightly raises his hips from the seat as he takes control of the situation. he slams his hips against your own, his heavy balls colliding with your skin. you moan into his shoulder as your body jolts with each thrust you receive below you. "logan!" you sob when the head of his cock assaults your sweet spot repeatedly and his grasp on your asscheeks tightens; you're sure you'll bruise by that type of hold.

logan can't remember the last time he's acted like this; his current age didn't exactly allow him to have fun like he once did. but right now he was going into a frenzy with you, burying his face between your bouncy breasts and licking the space there. his thrusts were rough and hurried, your clit brushing against his pubic hair, the sensation causing your pussy to clench even tighter around his thick girth. "won't last, sweetheart." he warns you and you place your hands on the seat behind him as you start bouncing on his cock again, moving opposite logan's thrusts.

he comes with a growl, his chest vibrating as he does, and you follow right after as your weeping pussy comes around him with a rare tremble. you feel everything; the way he empties himself inside you and slides impossibly deeper as if his solid purpose is to fill your womp with his seed. the way he grows soft inside your cunt and slowly slips his cock out. the way his cum dribbles out of your gaping entrance, probably staining him and the seat. he doesn't care.

"everything alright, sweet girl?" logan asks, one of his hands caressing your buttocks while the other settles over your cheek. you look at him, all spent and pretty, your eyes unable to stay open for long. logan faintly smiles and presses a loving kiss on your forehead while swiping his thumb across your cheek.

"sleepy." you explain in a single word and he hums. you stay still as logan drapes his jacket over you for the second time that night. the heat his body radiates and the gentle rumble of his chest lulls you to sleep. and as that soft caressing on your hair continues, logan contemplates what to buy you for breakfast.

[bunnigumi]

─ FLUORESCENT ADOLESCENT

YOU KNOW HOW hormonal teenagers are. Especially the boys. They'll want to fuck anything; even their own sisters.

cw. megumi x reader , incest , porn with plot , reader described with small chest , brief mentions of drinking/smoking , Toji is referred to as dad/daddy (nonsexual) , light exhibitionism , dead dove

an. hi guys!! thank you!! for!! 600+ followers!!!!! i lowkey accidently edged you guys at the end srry in advance i didn't have motivation to write out a full smut scene and i hope theres no typos in this bc ill cry if i see it too late... happy reading ^u^ ^_<

There's a lot of things Megumi can't do when Toji's around. Shower for too long and use up all the hot water, sneak his beers. Get handsy with his sister.

But he seems to do the last one all the time, whether his dad is home or not.

Toji is always too loud watching baseball or horse racing on the TV to hear the noises you make when your brother tries to shove his fingers up your virgin ass for the second time. You chickened out the first because you heard the front door open, your dad coming home for the first time in weeks.

Thought he was going to walk in on the two of you. Ask how your day was, what you've been up to. Something along the lines of what a normal dad would do. All he ever does is mope around. She's dead and you're all grown up.

But Megumi likes to humor you, Let's do it under the covers then.

Especially when you're so irrational, Wanna feel good, right? He won't hear a thing by the time I get my fingers in.

Sometimes he's too passed out drunk to see the bedroom door open with Megumi's hands groping your breasts. They're too small to be properly fondled, but he's always liked girls with small tits. 

You've shared a room since forever. There's only two, one for you and Megumi, and one for your parents. But daddy spends most of the nights on the couch, never makes it a step past the living room.

It probably wasn't the best idea. Megumi started touching you all inappropriately at night, your stuffed dolls from family friend facing away when he fingers you, fucks you, kisses you.

You know how hormonal teenagers are. Especially the boys. They'll want to fuck anything; even their own sisters.

Your brother liked to kiss you a lot when you were younger. Regardless of where you were, who you were with. Simple, fleeting kisses on the lips. Your mom and dad would do it all the time.

Grown ups would fawn over how cute you were as children. How well you two got along. How they wished their children were as well behaved as you two were.

It's not all weird for their age. Shiu said it's just what kids do, kids are parrots, not that he has any. But'chya better teach ‘em it's not normal, or you’re gonna have inbred grandbabies. He says it with a quirked lip, chuckling, and a cigarette in between his fingers.

Your dad, unfazed, gnawed on his own, the sliding door open, summer on your face. Puppy stickers trailing up on the glass that don't make it past the handle.

On a good day, Toji's got a Playboy magazine in one hand, a cold bottle in the other. C'mere, boy. He likes to call Megumi from your room to taunt him. Don't she look just like your sister? Flat out drunk. Well, with that rack, it's more like your ma. See, now this one's more like your sister. Isn't that funny?

He tears out the page, careful to not cut through the model's hips, and tosses it in Megumi's direction. His eyes never leaving the magazine. Not even when he takes a swig of the bottle.

Don't fucking talk about your daughter like that. The hell's wrong with you? Megumi says it partially under his breath. And he says it like he isn't hard in front of his dad, like it's not because of the thought of his sister. 

His face twitches with mock disgust. It's as if he isn't folding the page and slipping it into his pocket when he heads back to your shared room.

It all went through one ear and out the other—television static. Toji doesn't look up, doesn't notice Megumi leave. The daggers stabbed into his hollow head. The hard on his son’s got at the mention of his sister. He never notices anything at all.

And it's whatever. You're waiting for him. You want to show him the new panties you bought when you were out with your girlfriends, the money courtesy of your brother. Not in exchange for sex, of course. He loves you more than to treat you like a prostitue. Plus, you'd do it for free, so that makes you a good sister slut.

Megumi doesn't like his new part time all too much. ‘Part time’ means being away from you, leaving you alone. Government code to keep families apart. Buy whatever you like. You're a people pleaser.

Your dad babies you a lot. He still doesn't understand how teenagers work. Coddles you to death like you're still five when his breath smells like spearmint.

It's about the same for Megumi, that kiddy treatment. Still offers runs out to the nearby store to buy ice cream, loitering for the air conditioning on days when cold baths with you aren't enough to kill the heat. Sticking their faces in freezers, your mom twirling you in circles. Letting you go like a wind up doll, spinning and spinning ‘till the world was dizzy.

You inherited her smile, her upturned eyes when you laughed.

And you hate the way Toji let himself go. The person he became. The safety, the warmth. Detached too early from nurturing. Spiraling all the way down from the tree, the nest.

You, me, your sister. Like we used to.

He never got his ass off the couch. Not for those recreational things at least. Everyone knows that, but Toji still tries.

Not to say that Megumi isn't a fan of tradition. Cold baths with you, having you warm his dick while he washes your hair with strawberry, 3-in-1 kid shampoo. Sucking your little tits and biting down on your tender neck. Rubbing your needy clit in circles, your hips bucking, water sloshing. Suds popping and flying in the air. Soapy residue clinging to tile walls.

Your dad doesn't question why you still do it together when you're in your teenage years, or how you two should have outgrown baths already. It's a win-win situation.

He never has a reason to leave; no wife to nag him about remembering to buy fabric softener at the store with the groceries because he forgot the last time. It's not that important, only sissies need soft clothes to survive.

Tugging at the hem of your uniform shirt, slipping on your shoes and leaning on the door handle you’d drill holes into the Toji-shaped spot and the door is quietly shut behind you, your brother still asleep.

When he does leave, it's for days on end. And you never really notice when he does until you’re on your way out the door to school in the early morning, and there's no one on the couch, not a note on the counter.

He's gotten into the college near home and has been taking on more night shifts. Most of his classes start in the afternoon and you miss walking with him to school.

Megumi's the one paying attention to you more, and even extra attention on nights when dad isn't home and he's back from work.

You can be as loud as you need to be, fuck as much as you want. You've grown to be one spoiled girl, that's for sure.

Toji saw him feeling you up once in the kitchen when he went to grab leftover takeout from the fridge. You thought he wasn't home. Turned out he hadn't left the house since yesterday, passed out in his room. Still smelled like a bar, nicotine, and a skank.

You think it's the first time he actually slept there since, well, you know. 

The hell you kids doing. It wasn't a question. He said it with a yawn, with glaring indifference in the base of his tone. Megumi ignored the way his shoulders were slumped over. How he rested his weight on the fridge handle.

And you could act like it didn't happen, like your older brother wasn't pressing up against your backside, trying to stick his junk inside of you.

Nothing, daddy. It's all in your imagination. Just playing. You've just been watching too many pornos. By the way, are you hungover? Your breath reeks of cumsluts and prostitute whores.

Megumi finds that Toji tends to only register the sound of your voice rather than your words. He'd gotten pretty good at that thing with your mother. When you hit puberty, you started to sound like her.

And it's easy for Toji to turn a blind eye. To forget and be at ease. Megumi could really just have continued to go and fuck you right there over the kitchen counter. You're real good at quick and dirty. There’d be the high pitch of your moans and Toji could care less.

It's what happens when you have a dead mom, a college roommate of a dad, and a touchy brother for a family.

Shiu managed to lure Toji out of the house tonight with the promise of girls and booze. Like a dog hearing the words ‘park’ and ‘treat’. Pathetic, is what it is.

You’re wrapping your hand around your older brother’s cock. Pressing your cheek against his thigh. Pleading eyes staring up at him because you’re unsure of how to start. Red knees on scratchy hardwood floor. It's been a while since you had time for foreplay more than kissing and fingering.

“Suck it like a popsicle. Careful with your teeth,” He says in a low voice. “Yeah, exactly like that.”

You've always been a quick learner. Daddy doesn’t know that. Grey rings on unopened report cards turned coasters.

But your brother sure does. He likes to encourage your learning with a hand tangled into your hair. And he’s not all too strict of a teacher, relenting in his grasp when you dig your nails into the side of his legs. Pulling off with saliva dripping down your chin. Lips pouty and shredded like paper, your jaw aching. Thighs rubbing together, always desperate for something more.

Megumi lifts you up onto his lap so that you're straddling him, and taking the initiative, you throw your arms around his neck—pressing your bodies together, grinding down on him and zealously chasing after his lips.

You love like it's second nature.

Intimately to the ideal of union. Crossing lines just to hear the way they snap, it's more satisfying from the other side. In privileged rebellion; the temptation that comes with this taboo of want.

He can taste himself on you, with notes of sugar from home baked cookies and cheap frosting on your tongue.

Megumi has to force you still, his hands squeezing tight around your waist.

Petulant like a child, a whine leaves your mouth at the halt of friction. He manhandles your position so that your back is resting on his chest. Legs dangling off the edge of the bed, kicking and making a soft thumping noise against its side. 

Lifting up the hem of your shirt, his shirt that you’re wearing, reveals nothing but white panties soaked wet from the way your brother nips at your bottom lip when you kiss, from humping him, the way he loves you, too.

He shoves your panties to the side, smearing your slick all over your cunt with his fingers, onto your clit. He rubs light circles, eliciting breathy moans from you before abruptly stopping to pull your underwear down the rest of the way, letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

Resting his chin on your shoulder and marking the dip between your neck and shoulder with red indents of his teeth, the sting of his canines, he slips his middle finger into your cunt. The ring, to stretch you out. Then the index, to see how much you can take.

Facing the open door, no one's on the couch while your big brothers got a hand between your thighs. The other sliding under your shirt, agonizingly slow up your chest in a way that sends shivers up your spine, translating into hunger for your brain.

You don't wear bras at home, but you enjoy wearing frilly, lacy ones. Little white bows on the center of your chest. Dolly and cute to the point it was sexy, but not overly so. In blue and pink pastels bordering white.

Megumi was always poked fun at for hanging out with you during lunch and breaks in middle school. Always badgered by his rag-tag group of friends. 

C’mon, Fushiguro. Hang out with us. Just for today at least. That pink haired one was always so whiny. Cute, maybe, but whiny. Or what about after school? You always go straight home. He got on your nerves. You hated him. 

Only sister fuckers hang out with them at school. The brunette was fairly pretty. Skinny legs, good tits. Glossy lips when she said her snide remarks. You always had this fear that Megumi would leave you for her. Irrational, did he mention? You shot her a glare, green eyed monster, and hated her too.

You’d ask Megumi to follow you to the girls bathroom after lunch. Undoing the buttons of your blazer. The first, second, third one of your dress shirt—flashing starstruck eyes with a new bra. Arms pushing your breasts together, offering him a sweet smile. Lustful persuasion.

Then you would leave him for class and he'd have to jerk off to get rid of his boner. In a stall over the toilet, quick so no one hears him. Grinding his teeth together, biting down on his lip, chewing the side of his mouth to muffle the noise until it all hurt.

You’ve always liked to rile him up. To leave him high and dry, no hand holding on the way home, then give him all of you the second you step into the door without so much as a glance to see if anyone's in the house.

You like to tease him, even whenever Toji is near. 

Simulating the tent in his pants with your feet under the table while daddy is smoking with Shiu.

Staring at your brother from across with a glint of mischief in your eyes.

Waiting for his cool composure to break until he’s got only two options: Bend you over the table and fuck you right then and there, or play his little sister’s game, her rules. Puppy dog eyed, exhibitionist freak.

Your hips continuously grind up to meet his knuckles. Clutching his wrist, whispering as he curiously stops his attack on your neck, “More. Want more,” and you hold your breath.

You feel him smile on your skin. Without a word, he flips you onto the mattress, and knows exactly what you want, exactly what you need by the way you hook your legs over his back, locking your ankles together. Pulling him in closer. Effectively caging him in. The world can't have him. You've claimed your stake on him a long time ago.

And the words that leave your mouth feel nothing but natural. Your voice is airy, breathy. This insatiable desire tugs harshly at your heart.

Your lips purse together for a moment, just a single moment before the words seamlessly roll off your tongue. 

“I love you," like you were born to do.