#yay images on asks works | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aemondsbabe · 7 months

Text

Give Me an O!

summary: billy walks in on you in a bit of a compromising situation, and you finally go after what you want

pairing: billy hargrove x cheerleader!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, reader is very flexible, minor injury it's fine, piv sex, unprotected sex oopsy daisy, public sex technically, hand over mouth, fingering, breast/nipple play if you blink, dirty talk, reader's hair is long enough that she can have a ponytail but no other physical descriptors are used, billy is a himbo, steve harrington cameo

word count: 5k

a/n: finally getting around to a request from @sweetshifter! thank you for the idea bby & i hope ya enjoy! also, my first time writing for stranger things! yay! images in the header are for aesthetic purposes only!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @unwanted-animal

🖤 my masterlist

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“You sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” Your best friend asks as she slings her gym bag over her shoulder, “I don’t mind staying a couple minutes.”

“Nah,” you shrug, still panting a little from practice as you lean to the side with a little sigh, stretching down toward your leg, “You go on, I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

“Alright, cool,” she chirps, glossy lips flicking up into that sincere, beaming smile that had become her signature, “Bye!” She calls over her shoulder as she turns, white tennis shoes thumping against the shiny wooden floor as your name echoes around the gym.

“Bye, Chrissy!” You reply with a smile, glancing up as the heavy metal doors at the side of the room click closed, leaving you alone for the time being.

With a tired huff, you check your watch, one that matched Chrissy’s exactly – gold with a baby pink face. You’d gotten them at the mall last summer, a joint birthday present.

4:34pm.

A sigh leaves your lips as you lunge forward, hands planted firmly on your hips as you try to ignore the slight burn in your thigh. So, that’s… like, forty-five minutes until basketball practice starts, you think, eyes pointed up at the white metal ceiling as you do mental math, trying to figure out exactly how long you’ll have to work on your stretches.

Deciding to give yourself a few more minutes before calling it a day, you breathe out steadily through your pursed lips as you switch sides and lunge forward again, savoring the light burn in your calf. After a fifteen second count, you move onto your hands and knees, needing to stretch out your back.

You hum softly under your breath, one hand planted firmly against the blue tumbling mat beneath you as the other reaches back and grabs onto one of your ankles, your limbs forming a graceful arch above you. A small grunt leaves you as you pull your leg up as high as you can, before dropping it down and reaching back with your other hand to do the other side. Mid-pose, you swear you hear one of the gym doors click open, the one out to the hallway with the locker rooms and various storage closets judging by the direction, but you’re so focused on holding your pose, you honestly can’t be sure.

Huffing, you decide to just ignore it – Probably just the janitor or something, you think, keeping your eyes focused, once again, on the white metal ceiling as you roll over onto your back.

Breathing steadily, you let your eyes slip closed as you press both legs together before slowly lifting them up, using your hands and elbows to support your back as you lift onto your shoulders. Wincing slightly at the twinge of pain from your left one, you work through it, trying to keep your breath steady. As your green and gold cheer skirt pools at your waist, you silently pray that if it is a janitor, that it’s at least not the creepy one.

Slowly but surely, you work both legs up and over your head until the tips of your white sneakers press into the mat, your arms planted firmly onto the floor for support.

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, you count silently, breathing a little shakily as you focus on balancing… and on ignoring your shoulder.

Suddenly, a loud wolf-whistle cuts through the silence of the gym, punctuated by a few slow claps and the heavy footsteps of someone walking across the wooden gym floor.

“Aah!” You squeak as you topple to the side, concentration thoroughly broken. Huffing, you prop yourself up on one elbow as your head snaps up, eyes already narrowed into an irritated glare. Upon seeing who it is, you can’t help but sneer.

“Can I help you, Hargrove?” You sigh, exasperated, rolling your eyes as you angle both legs out in a side split, determined to get through your stretches even with the added annoyance of Billy’s presence.

“Just admiring the view, princess,” he drawls, blue eyes trailing up the length of each of your spread legs in a way that makes your cheeks flush, “You’re real good at that, aren’t you?�� He questions, plump lips quirked up into that signature, flirtatious smirk.

“Good at what?” You ask, brows furrowing as you bend over to the left, easily grasping the toe of your tennis shoe as the muscles in your legs stretch into a taut, familiar ache.

He chuckles at that, hands on his hips as he studies you, the spicy, woodsy smell of his cologne filling the space around you. He cocks his head to the side, pearly white teeth flashing every few seconds as he chews a piece of gum.

“Stretching,” he all but purrs, golden curls blowing slightly from the large fans that hum loudly on the ceiling. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he ogles at you, watching carefully as you bend to the right, “I bet it’d be really easy to just fold you up like a pretzel, huh, sweets?”

With a sigh, you finally let yourself relax for a moment and tilt your head up to look at the boy as you lean back on your hands, your ponytail swishing across your shoulder blades as you do.

“In your dreams, Billy,” you murmur, trying to keep the expression on your face plaid, wholly uninterested, which is easier said than done.

You don’t like Billy, and you’re very quick to correct anyone who says you do, even if it is just friendly teasing. But, well, there’s something about him that just draws people into his orbit – charisma combined with a certain mystique. You knew from talking to the girls in the locker room that he was a lady’s man, and a player, but from how they all talked about him, there appeared to be something more there, some hidden layer that no one had been able to crack yet. He’s different from the other boys in Hawkins, no small town charm to hide behind.

Plus, come on, he’s gorgeous. You might not be Billy’s biggest fan but you have eyes.

“Damn right, in my dreams,” he murmurs, pulling you from your thoughts as he draws out every syllable of your name in a low, husky tone, familiar smirk playing at his lips like always.

Cocking your head, you narrow your eyes as you peer up at him, “Aren’t you going out with Amber now?”

“Wouldn’t exactly call it going out…,” he answers as he bends down on one knee to retie the laces of his shoe, shooting you a little wink as he does so.

“Does Amber know that?”

He pauses at that, a little huff of laughter bubbling up from his chest as he fixes you with a grin that is much too self-satisfied for your liking. “Now, princess,” he starts slowly, blue eyes narrowing at you playfully as he rests a forearm across his knee, “Why do you care so much about what I’m doing with Amber?”

“She’s my friend, Billy,” you say, sitting up a little more, the chill from the AC units making the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end.

“So, it’s definitely not because you’re, I dunno, jealous or anything?”

“No!” You cringe inwardly as you say it, too quick and too defensive and just what the blue eyed boy had been hoping for, judging by the smug grin plastered on his face.

This is how it’s been between the two of you for months now, ever since his stupid Camaro had rumbled into the school’s parking lot way back in August. Since then, it’s been a whirlwind of teasing jokes, sitting through History class after History class as you feel those blue eyes practically boring a hole in the back of your head, and somehow mustering up the willpower to dodge his advances.

In the nearly three months since his arrival, Billy had managed to charm his way through at least a handful of girls, maybe more depending on which rumors you listen to, but you are determined not to fall for it, not to be just another notch on his bedpost.

Which would be a lot easier if he’d leave you the hell alone.

Flustered, you pull your knees up, tucking your chin over top of them as your arms wrap around your calves, silently rolling your eyes as Billy drops to the blue tumbling mat, rolling onto his back with a satisfied sigh, making it clear to you that he was here to stay.

“Why’re you here so early, anyway?” You question, glancing at your watch once more, “Basketball practice isn’t for, like, another half hour.”

“Had to drop my stupid step-sister off at some trash arcade,” he grunts, annoyed, “Didn’t wanna waste the gas to go all the way home, plus…,” he pauses, tilting his head to the side to slyly grin at you once more, “I figured I might get here early enough to catch the end of cheer practice.”

“Creep,” you scoff, much more playfully than you’d intended to.

The two of you fall into a, surprisingly, comfortable beat of silence. You let your eyes trail over Billy as his own droop shut, one arm propped behind his head as he lazes on the gym mat, jaw clenching every so often as he works the gum in his mouth. You start at his feet, taking in the faded black canvas material of his Converse before you let your eyes roam up his long, tanned, muscular legs. Finally, you reach the familiar dark green shade of his school-branded shorts and your eyes wander up the expanse of his stomach and chest, covered by the grey t-shirt he wears, the familiar eyes of Hawkins High’s tiger mascot staring blankly into your own.

You nearly gasp as your eyes trail up to his face again, only to find his steely eyes already looking at you, a knowing smirk etched into his face as you feel the apples of your cheeks flush.

“It’s rude to stare, princess,” Billy drawls, catching you red handed.

“And it’s not rude to perv on me stretching?”

“Never said it wasn’t,” he shrugs with a little chuckle, sitting up and resting one forearm on a bent knee. You merely roll your eyes as he studies you for a second, the blush on your cheeks deepening enough that you can feel the slight tingle of blood rushing under the surface.

“Whatever,” you sigh, shaking your head as you stretch your legs out in front of you again. You stretch forward again, letting out a breath as you grab at your ankles and try to ignore the way Billy sits up, propping his forearm up on a bent knee.

“Could you, like, put your legs behind your head and all that?”

“Probably,” you say with a little eye roll.

“Will you?”

“Not for you!”

The two of you carry on like that for a moment longer — you working through various stretches and familiar yoga poses as Billy seems overly curious about each one, questioning if you can twist into all kinds of poses.

“Can you do a handstand and do the splits?” He questions, grinning when you groan in frustration, eyes trailing up your long legs to the bottom of your short cheer skirt.

With a huff, you stand with one hand on your hip, the other pinching at the bridge of your nose as Billy’s incessant questions throw you off the silent count in your head again.

“Did you want something or are you just trying fuck me over?”

“Mmm, close, princess,” the blond teases, earning another glare from you. Playfully, he holds his hands up in surrender, “You’re single, aren’t you?” He asks, smirking triumphantly at the way you balk.

“I’m not talking about this with you, Hargrove.”

His smirk widens when you don’t deny it, blue eyes darkening as they travel over the length of your body once more. “Look, all I’m saying is that the guys talk in the locker room and… well, I can’t help but notice that your pretty name just doesn’t come up.”

“Maybe I have better things to do than put out for you assholes,” you smirk, quickly stretching out your problem shoulder before kneeling back on the tumbling mat, meaning to finish up with a couple quick pushups.

Undeterred, Billy merely matches your smirk with one of his own, watching as you kneel next to him. “Just come with me to Harrington’s Halloween party next weekend, sweetness,” he offers, his voice a low rumble, “Come on, a couple hours, some drinks. Hell, I’ll even dress up with you, whatever you want.”

“Hmm,” you hum, taking a second to tighten your ponytail as you shoot him a playful little smile, “Whatever I want, huh?”

“Name it,” he says lowly, watching appreciatively as you get on all fours.

“Okay, how about…,” you stall, drawing out your words as you extend your legs behind you, grunting softly as your shoulder zings with pain once more, “Willie and Indiana Jo– Ah!” You cut yourself off, exclaiming in pain as you land with a small thud on the mat, wincing.

“Whoa, hey,” Billy says softly, scrambling onto his knees, brows furrowed as he gingerly helps you roll over onto your back, “You okay?”

You nod, glancing away with a little embarrassed huff as you rub at your shoulder. “Yeah, it’s nothing. I just probably sprained it earlier during practice or something.”

“Lemme take a look at it,” he says, offering a hand to help you up.

Not expecting such chivalrous behavior from Hargrove of all people, you only nod dumbly and let him pull you up off the mat, chest heaving.

“Here,” he murmurs, gently nudging at your arm until you turn your back to him. You can hear the tumbling mat crinkle as he steps closer to you, the warmth from his chest practically radiating through his t-shirt as the spicy musk of his cologne seems to envelope you once again.

“You better not be using this as an excuse to feel me up,” you warn, albeit playfully, pulling your ponytail over the opposite shoulder.

“In your dreams,” he teases, goosebumps peppering your skin from the low way he says your name and from the gentle brush of his fingers over the back of your arm as they trail their way up to your shoulder.

He’s silent for a moment, carefully pressing warm, slightly rough fingers against your skin, watching until you wince just slightly when he pokes at your shoulder blade. “That’s where it hurts?”

“Mhm,” you nod, lips parting ever so slightly as he kneads around the area. You can practically feel him smirking when you sigh a moment later, his fingers working perfectly over the sore muscle as his other hand anchors itself at your hip, “You’re… actually, like, really good at this,” you murmur with a little laugh, needing to find some way to break the silence.

“My mom is – was, she was a masseuse, back when we lived in Cali,” Billy explains, leaning in closer, his lips all but brushing against your ear as he speaks softly, like he’s telling you some deep, dark secret, “I might’ve looked at one or two of her books.”

“Really?” You ask, brows furrowing as you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder.

“Sue me, I was thirteen and they had nudes in ‘em,” he chuckles, biting into his bottom lip when your breathy laugh morphs into a moan when he presses just right against your shoulder. The fingers of his other hand tighten on your hip as he pulls you back against him, his lips just barely grazing over the crook of your neck, “But I still picked up a thing or two.”

“Clearly,” you breathe, brows tugging together as you tilt your head to the side, an open invitation. The blond doesn’t need any more convincing and you let your eyes flutter shut as his lips descend upon your neck, pressing hot kisses against the sensitive skin.

The rise and fall of your chest grows shallow as the two of you seem to lose yourselves; you gasp as the hand on your hip trails down over your thigh, until Billy can drag the tips of his fingers beneath the white and gold hem of your pleated skirt just as the hand on your shoulder begins slowly moving around your ribs, to your front. Despite the AC units humming away, you can’t help but feel flush as he presses himself against you, already half-hard against the small of your back.

With a gasp, you jerk away from him at the sound of a door opening and closing in the hallway, muffled voices and laughter filtering in through the closed doors of the gym.

“Dammit,” Billy mumbles behind you as he quickly glances at the clock hanging above one of the exits, sighing disappointedly when he sees the time – fifteen minutes until practice.

Deciding to finally give in to the wants you’ve been harboring for months, you grab one of his hands and playfully bite your lip, nodding to one of the sets of gym doors, “Follow me.”

Smirking, he follows behind you as you quickly make your way to the doors, both of you pausing for a second to make sure the coast is clear before you bolt down the hallway. A second later, you’re pushing Billy through a door into a random classroom.

“This is the old Health room,” you explain, gasping as he turns and presses you against the old door, the metal of it cool against your back as you quickly scan over the empty room, dim other than the early evening light spilling in through the thin slats of the blinds, “No one ever comes in here.”

“Uh huh, fascinating,” he nods, turning his head to spit his gum into a small trash can by the door, before eagerly pressing his lips to yours. He smirks into the kiss as you mewl, his lips parting to quickly swallow the sweet sounds you make.

Always one to give as good as you get, your lips move against his just as fervently, both of your hands trailing up underneath his t-shirt as you rub over his stomach, muscles taut under your touch. His tongue slips into your mouth in the same second he presses against you, his thin gym shorts doing nothing to conceal the hardness of his length as it presses against your lower stomach.

You arch into his touch as his hands cup your breasts through your uniform, a low growl rumbling through his chest as you rake your nails over his chest and down his stomach. Boldly, you reach down and palm at his cock, savoring the surprised grunt he lets out before you quickly nudge your hand down the front of his shorts and into his boxers.

“Shit,” he breathes, one hand still kneading at your breast as the other skates back up your thigh, his forehead resting against yours. Biting your lip, you watch through hooded eyes as you experimentally stroke over his cock, marveling at how hard he already is, like velvet over steel.

Just as you feel him twitch in your grasp, the blond pulls away from you with a teasing grin and presses one last kiss against your lips before tapping the back of your thighs, urging you to jump.

“Fuck, there you go,” Billy rasps, fingers digging into the curve of your ass as you clamber up into his arms, your shoulder only barely smarting as you wrap your arms around his neck. “I gotcha,” his muscular biceps flex as he quickly walks a few feet from the door and deposits on you on top of the, thankfully barren, teacher’s desk pushed haphazardly into the corner.

“Billy,” you sigh, the sound being practically pushed from your lungs as he presses himself back between your thighs, cheer skirt rumbled around your waist as he all but folds you in half – your hands cling to his shirt desperately, one leg wrapped securely around his hip as the other ends up slung nearly over his shoulder.

“Yeah, princess?” He taunts with a wolfish grin, smirking at the way the muscles of your thigh twitch as his fingers move toward your pussy, hardly hidden beneath your boyshorts. You all but levitate off the desk as two of his fingers swipe over your slit, the apples of your cheeks flushing when he chuckles triumphantly, the thin cotton doing nothing to hide how wet you are. “Finally gonna give me what I want?”

You can feel your ponytail bobbing wildly at the crown of your head when you nod, a whiny moan blooming from your lips when he moves his fingers in tight circles against your clit, the flimsy material of your underwear quickly dampening against his touch.

“Yeah, yeah, Billy,” your hands tremble as you pull at his t-shirt, desperate for what you’ve been wanting for so long, “C’mon, please!”

“Easy, tiger,” he laughs, tongue running over his bottom lip as he easily tugs his shirt over his head, your own hands scrambling to push down your boyshorts. Taking mercy on you yet again, he helps you, eagerly tugging the white cotton down your legs. He damn near tears them in two as he pushes your underwear over one sneaker, letting them dangle from your ankle.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, crowding against you again as you lean back on the desk, propped up on your elbows. You stare up at him, lips parted, as he all but folds you in half, warm hands pressing against the backs of your thighs, “Fucking leaking and I’ve barely touched you.”

“Oh!” You hiss, trying your hardest to keep your voice down, head thudding back against the desk as Billy quickly tugs his shorts down, just enough to get his cock out, and teasingly runs it through your folds, “Billy, oh my God, just do it!” You all but beg, teeth biting into your bottom lip at the wet sounds of him moving against you, deafeningly loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Were you anywhere else, Billy would have absolutely no qualms about teasing you to within an inch of your life – payback for playing cat and mouse with him for almost three months straight. Lucky for you, he’s just as nervous at the thought of getting caught with his pants down as you are, shuddering to think what Neil would do if he got expelled over this.

With a barely contained growl, he pushes into you, his cock sliding easily to the hilt with how wet you are. Your back arches off the desk as he slides home, stretching you beautifully as he fills you completely.

“Oh – oh my God,” you breathe as he stills, giving you a few seconds to adjust. Your hands scramble over the smooth top of the desk before you grab onto his wrists as his hands hook behind your knees.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans – the way he grumbles your name makes your walls clench around his length, punching another grunt from his chest as he starts shallowly thrusting against you, grinding his hips against yours.

The two of you dissolve into a flurry of breathy mewls and sighs, each of you desperately trying to keep quiet as the muffled sounds of skin against skin and the dull creaking of the desk fill the room. Your eyelids flutter as you watch Billy above you, golden curls bouncing with each of his thrusts as a light sheen of sweat covers his tanned chest.

Grunting lowly, he presses harder against the backs of your thighs, practically pressing your kneecaps against the desk below you, blue eyes sparkling as you easily follow his movements. With the small change in angles, the head of his cock thrusts perfectly against that sensitive spot within you, and he grins triumphantly as you tremble beneath him.

“That the spot, princess?” He questions, smirking when you nod your head with a little broken squeak, “Fuck, I can’t wait to get you in a bed – bet you can bend in all kinds of pretty ways, huh?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, Billy,” you agree, willing to agree to just about anything as long as he keeps moving. You can hardly contain the moans spilling from your lips as he works you higher and higher, the adrenaline from the possibility of getting caught as well as the rush of finally having him making you rush toward your end faster than you normally would.

Breathing heavily as your pussy clenches at his cock, he lets go of one of your thighs and shoves your shirt up, unceremoniously taking your bra with it. You bite at the back of one hand as he teases at your breasts, using one hand to pinch and pull at one nipple before moving to the other as he stares down at you with half-lidded eyes, brows furrowed in concentration.

“O-Oh, my – fuck, I’m –” You moan brokenly, squirming beneath him as you feel yourself nearing the edge, teeth biting desperately into your bottom lip as you claw at his forearm and waist.

Cockily licking over his lips, Billy leans forward as he grinds against you, his hips putting pressure on your clit as he covers your mouth with one hand, propping himself up against the desk with an elbow as his other still grasps at the back of your knee.

You squeeze him tightly as the tail end of his happy trail rubs deliciously over you, giving you just enough stimulation to throw you over the edge.

“Yeah, princess,” he encourages, grunting with nearly every thrust into you as he feels you clenching around him, pushing him further and further toward his own edge as he clenches his jaw, determined to hang on as long as possible.

After only a few more thrusts, he quickly pulls out with a small groan. “Fuck, fuck,” he pants, chest heaving as he strokes his cock, painting your lower belly with stripes of his release.

Both of you still for a moment, breathing heavily as you each come down. Half expecting Billy to simply get dressed again and leave, you’re surprised when he softly kisses you, more relaxed this time, as his warm breath fans over your cheek. Dazedly, you kiss him back, your lips moving together unhurriedly as you card your fingers through the sweat-damp curls at the nape of his neck.

After a moment, you part and your lips quirk up into a shy smile as he moves back half a step, giving you enough room to sit up.

“Oh, uh,” you breathe, looking down when you feel his cum cooling against your skin. Glancing around the room, you pout a little when you don’t see any tissues or paper towels, “There’s paper towels in the locker room?” You offer, looking over at Billy, watching as he quickly tugs his shorts back into place.

“I got it,” he says with a small smirk and before you have time to question what he means, he quickly tugs your underwear off your ankle and uses them to wipe at your skin, grinning meanly when you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Jackass!” You exclaim, laughing softly despite yourself, “That’s the only pair I have with me!”

“Nothing wrong with going commando, sweetness,” he says with a wink, chuckling when you wrinkle your nose at the thought while you pull your bra and shirt back into place, “Come back to my place and I’ll was ‘em for you, my parents don’t get back until late, anyway.”

“You just want a round two,” you laugh, hopping off the desk and straightening out your skirt the best you can before running your hands over your hair, trying to smooth out your ponytail.

“Told you I was gonna fold you up all pretty,” Billy smirks, crowding against you yet again once he tugs his shirt back on and lightly grasping at your jaw, “Something tells me you won’t have a problem with that either.”

“That’s presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“Sure, yeah, I dunno what that means, princess,” he says, grinning when you laugh, your hands pressed against his chest as he quickly tucks your boyshorts into the waistband of his shorts, “Just come back to my place, hm?”

“What about basketball practice? Jason hates when people ditch.”

“You really think I give a shit about what Carver wants?” Billy laughs, taking one of your hands in his as he makes his way toward the door.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you finally agree, rolling your eyes playfully as you let him pull you out into the hall.

“And come with me to the Halloween party?”

“You have quite a list of demands, Hargrove.”

“Hey,” he says with a little shrug, glancing at you as you walk side by side toward the locker rooms, “That’s what you get for teasing me.”

You merely giggle as the two of you round a corner, nearly freezing and nervously glancing over at Billy when you come across Steve, chest heaving as he leans over a water fountain.

Standing straight, he wipes at his lips with the back of his hand, narrowing his eyes at Billy, watching as he quickly scoops up his duffle bag from where he’d tossed it down earlier in the hallway. “Dude, why’re you leaving? You’re almost, like, half an hour late for practice.”

“Yeah, well, tell Carver something came up,” the blond boy huffs dismissively before taking your hand once more. You shoot a bashful smile at Steve, blushing as you and Billy walk toward the doors out to the parking lot.

Behind you, Steve takes a minute to connect the dots, brows furrowing as he plants his hands on his hips. After a second, his eyes widen and he shakes his head.

“Come on, at school?” He calls down the hallway, shaking his head as you and Billy laugh, “Fucking animals, man.”

gen tags: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @imawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @fan-goddess @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc @moonriseoverkyoto @wolfdressedinlace @do-double-g @kennafild @cruelworldlana @mheraxes @eternallyvenus @chaotic-fangirl-blog @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

#my writing #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove smut #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #dacre montgomery #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #smut

3K notes · View notes

drghostwrite · 2 months

Text

Seeing Green

Pairing: Larissa Weems x wife!reader

Summary: one jealous Larissa and her gorgeous wife.

Warnings: Minors DNI, smut, mommy, cockwarming, mentions of getting pregnant(breeding)… and ofc jealousy.

P.S. idk if anyone remembers shadow hunters but this is a bit of a crossover with reader being an shadow hunter.

******************************************************** Of all the places you wanted to be this wasn’t it, surrounded by pink and blues at a baby shower.

Before you met Larissa and moved into a full time teaching position at Nevermore, you lived in Jericho. You were a shadow hunter and had an ability to read feelings and emotions, you couldn’t hear a direct thought but you could feel them, if you were sitting in a room with a killer it came in handy. Then you worked for the FBI hunting serial killers and using your abilities, that was until one day you had a rough run in and almost died, that’s when you decided that the war between worlds was not your thing. So you moved to Jericho and built another life for yourself, when a teaching position opened at Nevermore you jumped and now you teach psychology, along with some magic classes.

That’s where you met your wife, Larissa Weems, a gorgeous goddess of a woman that now sat at a table watching as you talked to one of your old friends.

“Hey Y/N!” Jess exclaimed as she spotted you.

“Hey mama!” You said hugging her, her large baby bump pressing into you.

“Wow you look amazing…” you said pulling back, a hand coming to the side of her belly.

“Well between you and me, I don’t feel it.” She chuckled.

“Oh well you’re glowing, how’s baby doing? How’re you doing?”

“We’re good, though I miss you… a lot. You and Larissa should visit more often.” She said smiling gently at you.

“Jess, you know how hard it is… I’m lucky you came to terms with me as fast as you did…”

“it’s because you never scared me, intimidated me with the tattoos and everything maybe.” She laughed motioning to the runes that covered patches of your upper arms.

As you two stood there laughing and talking, Larissa slightly glared letting her mind wander, oh how she wished that you were the one standing there sporting a baby bump, the pride in knowing that it was her baby in there. To see you laugh and hug your girlfriends as they congratulated the both of you, it’s something she’s thought about but she never asked you if you even wanted kids, you were amazing with them from babies to teens but she never asked if you reciprocated the idea of having your own. But now seeing you standing there so happy as you talked with your best friend, the image of you pregnant with her baby searing in her mind, it made her heart beat out of her chest.

“Hey ‘Riss?…Larissa?” You called, jolting her from her thoughts as she heard you and saw you waving over to her. She stood smoothing out her jeans that she currently wore and the silky white button up, padding her way over to you.

“Hello darling,” she said leaning down to place a kiss on your lips, “Jess.” She nodded politely at the shorter woman.

“Hey Larissa.” Jess said reaching up to hug Larissa.

“So Jess and I were just talking about us maybe coming to visit once the baby is born.” You gleamed up at your wife, leaning into her side as she wrapped an arm around you, you rested you head on her chest.

“Oh, really?” She smiled looking between you and Jess.

“Yea, I want Y/N and you, both of you to meet them and with y’all being perfect for each other maybe it’ll give you some baby fever so y’all will have some.” She poked at your side as you all laughed.

“Well we would be delighted to you…” Larissa smiled.

“Yay! So to my next thing, when are we finally have a little Weems running around?” She asked and you leaned into your wife’s side hearing as her breath catch in her chest.

“Not sure,” you said looking up to Larissa, “sooner rather than later.”

“Well I’m-” before she could finish someone was calling her over to do another game, you stayed for a little while longer before it started getting late and you decided to head home.

You found your way in the house and carried your tired forms up the stairs, you stood in front of your vanity as you slipped into some pajamas. You watched as Larissa stripped in front of the closet, smooth milky skin exposed for your eyes to wander, you watched as she smoothly unhooked her bra tossing it aside and then slowly bent down to slip out of her panties, she knew you were watching. Pretending to pick which pajama pants she turned around, you could see the barren patch of skin between her legs. She saw you out of the corner of her eye as you quickly turned back around.

“Y/N, Dear?” She said a perfectly manicured hand sliding over your shoulder and down your front tickling the skin between your breasts.

“Yes, my love…” you said trying to keep your voice steady as you crossed you legs trying to feel some friction as the knot started forming.

“Do you like what you see?” Her hand traveled lower, as your eyes wandered over her reflection in your mirror, one of your soft linen flannels only a few buttons closed, loosely hugging her form, the dark colors contrasting with her milky skin, she had long forgotten the pajama pants opting to let her legs barren.

“Larissa, I…” she cut you off by using her other hands to force your legs open, slowly bending down next to you her breath warm on the shell of your ear.

“I want you to see what I do to you.” She rasped in your ear as you watched her in the mirror, your eyes fluttering as you bit your lip fighting to hold back a moan.

“Damn…” you chuckled as her long slender fingers dipped beneath your panty line. You tried staying as stoic as possible but the minute she found your clit you were a dead woman. You drew in a sharp breath and slightly leaned back into her.

“Mm… such a pretty wife.” She said pulling your ear between her teeth, leaning to rake her teeth over your neck before placing little bites and kisses along your pulse points. Her fingers continued to tease you, dipping down to collect your slick and back up to pressure your clit.

“Larissa please…” you said in a breathy tone and got no response except for a particularly harsh bite that would be noticeable tomorrow.

“baby…” you whined.

“I wanna hear you beg.” She commanded.

“Mommy…please…” you begged in a breathless tone, a deep chuckle resounding against you as her lips pulled in a scandalous smirk. You let out a soft moan in response feeling the knot pull tighter, so close to your high just from her teasing and that’s when you felt it, she pulled her fingers away, the heat of her breath no longer ghosting over your skin.

“Larissa?” You called as you felt her no longer behind you and heard your bed shift as she sat on it.

“Come here darling…” you turned and saw her leaned back, her legs crossed perfectly out in front of her, she was slowly playing with the buttons on her shirt opening it to reveal nothing underneath.

“Mrs. Weems, such a tease…” you whispered letting your eyes trail her body, she guided you to straddle her lap, her hands wandering up your body to push your shirt off.

“Mm… let mommy help you with these.” She smirked pulling at your shorts, you lifted your hips to help her slide them off. As soon as they were in the floor you were grinding yourself down into her hips, leaning forward and placing heated kisses on her lips.

“Mommy please, I…” you stopped as you felt something new between your legs. You pulled back to see the new member between her legs, hard and standing at attention.

“Larissa…”

She let out a low chuckle, “surprise…” she smirked.

“whaaa…” you breathed out against her as she sat up some more to place kisses across your chest.

“I wanna try something new.” She said guiding your hips up and lining up her new toy. She helped you guide it in and slowly let you adjust, a low guttural moan vibrating through your chest, your fingernails raked across her back and shoulders as she ran gentle hand across your hip and lower back, she pulled a taut nipple into her mouth letting her tongue swirl as your head fell back.

“Holy…” you moaned out as her hands grasped your hips. You slowly started to move but not before you heard a phone ring. “behave…” Larissa said as she leaned over scooping it up and answering, “Jess, hey what’s up?” She asked your best friend and you could hear the conversation on the other end, you sat perfectly still trying your best not to move but every second that she was inside you became more excruciating, you could feel your muscles clench around her dick as she occasionally shifted where she sat, hitting your sweet spot and sending shockwaves through your body, you clenched around her and she shot you a look, she adjusted your hips seeing as you bit your lip trying not to whimper or moan.

“Well hopefully it’s our turn soon… yea… oh you know Y/N… this is very true, she would look amazing pregnant… oh… why yes in fact… uh huh… you too, goodnight.” You caught bits and pieces of the conversation as your brain went fuzzy, your core was on fire, just begging for attention. As soon as Larissa hung up you whimpered.

“Mommy please…” you begged trying to roll your hips.

“oh does my poor baby need my attention?” She teased.

“just rail me already…” you groaned out in a sultry tone, hips starting to swirl more rapidly.

“If you say so…” she said thrusting up into you, at first starting slow and agonizing swirling her hips, just barely ghosting over your sweet spot.

“Mmnhh…” you let out a frustrated moan, her hips started to move faster and more deliberate, as you leaned forward to grab the headboard, she placed kisses in between your breast, turning to rake her teeth over one, she buried her face in your chest going back and forth between sensitive nipples, one hand coming up and slender fingers pulling at a taut nipple.

“Larissa… I-I think I’m gonna…” you moaned arching into her and closing your eyes.

“Nu uh… open those pretty eyes, let me watch them as I put a baby in you.” She thrusted harder.

“A baby… oh shit…” you moaned.

“Mm… I was so jealous seeing you hug her, seeing the baby bump, knowing how amazing you would look carrying my baby…” she growled in her raspy tone, breath hot on your ear as you rested your head in the crook of her neck still letting your hips rock.

“We would make… really, pretty… babies…” you breathed out, breath ragged.

“And you would look ravishing…”

“Damnit, cum in me…breed me, put a baby in me…” you said squeezing your legs around her as you hit your high, you watched her eyes as she let out a low moan feeling her release inside of you. Slowly she pulled out lifting you off of her and letting you lay down, she laid next to you, curling into one another, her fingertips tickling your lower abdomen savoring the moment.

“Do you think we have a little one in there?” She kissed the back of your neck, letting her mind wander at the thought of you being pregnant.

“mm well we could try again to be sure…” you smirked mischievously. A glint came over her eyes as she jolted her hips against yours.

“can’t hurt.” She said a sly smirk pulling at her lips, slowly shifting her body overtop of you. she bent down kissing your lips as you laughed into the kiss, her hand traveling back down to your legs, thumbs massaging circles into your inner thigh.

"absolutely breathtaking," she said softly between kisses as she pushed herself back into you, you could feel the stretch as you adjusted.

"you shifted again...God, that feels amazing." you said drawing in a sharp breath.

"Mm, you take me so well darling," she said watching as her dick thrust in and out of you, her hips starting to move at a superhuman pace, you could feel every vein pull in and out as she ghosted over your sweet spot. You let small moans slip out in between kisses, only breaking so you could both breathe.

"Let me hear you darling, let me hear how good I make you feel." she whispered in your ear, your sweet moans filling the dark bedroom. You could hear the unholy sounds of skin on skin, how wet you were as she let her hips do the work. You felt as she lifted your legs over her shoulder, letting her reach deeper hitting that spongy spot harder and faster than before, drawing multiple orgasms from your body. It wasn't long before you she started to break her rhythm getting sloppy as her hips thrusted, it wasn't long before you could feel her cumming inside of you, drawing one last moan from your lips.

"pretty sure I'm seeing stars..." you both laughed. She bent down to kiss your stomach, before going back up to your lips. "you know it's okay to be jealous, but you'll never lose me, I'm yours."

"Mine and one day the mother of our beautiful children." she smiled at you, kissing your lips one last time before settling in next to you, wrapping you in her long milky arms.

#x yn #x reader #larissa weems x female reader #larissa x you #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa x reader #x reader smut #wlw smut #smut prompts #jealousy #breeding k1nk

379 notes · View notes

samwise1548 · 5 months

Text

Sam went from trauma dumping sad boy to stuttering fool real quick

------

[ID: Two sequential drawings of Samama Khalid from The Magnus Protocol. Sam is a brown Pakistani-Welsh man with curly brown hair, beard and small moustache. He's wearing a red courderoy shirt over a grey shirt and black pants. He has a flower earring in his right ear.

The first image has two drawings of Sam with his arms crossed from the waist up. At the top, Sam glumly says "Well, my plan to literally dig up my trauma didn't work." The word "literally" is italicized for emphasis. The next drawing is of him sighing, trying to release dome tension in him.

The second image is a chibi version of Sam. He exclaims, now joyfully, "Time to ask my very new crush out on a date and hope desperately for a win!" The word "Yay!" is written in all caps in a yellow/pink color. Sam strides confidently onwards.

End ID]

#my boy ilysm #but seriously #what even are your priorities right now????#tmagp #tmagp 12 #tmagp spoilers #the magnus protocol spoilers #the magnus protocol #samama khalid #my doodles #my art #still trying to figure out new pens :/

421 notes · View notes

pupp0ccino · 1 month

Text

My Dust variant facts !

That no one asked for yay! ⟢

If I ever get to coloring these refs the current image will be replaced with the finished product.. also disclaimer, im aware these aren't canon , I just like having fun with characters and making my own versions of them

Dust

- he's a shapeshifter, having three forms. His normal form, Dustbunny, and Ghost. I hc him to have some form of identity/personality disorder (it's unspecified which one, that's up to y'all what you want him to have) so multiple forms with different personalities.

- his normal form, is simply just Dust. Hes the closest to looking like classic sans appearance wise compared to horror and killer.

- Dustbunny was mainly made as a kinsona, and for funzies, but Dust only morphs into this slightly smaller form as a defense mechanism, for he feels 'weak and pathetic' like prey. It's basically just him, but taking more on a bunny-like appearance and behavior. Like dust he's very closed off and quiet, but will rather flee than fight.

- Ghost is the complete opposite. Tall, sadistic and cruel with a sick smile plastered on his face. He comes in when Dust's getting a power trip, or needs to get big and protect himself. It kind of puts him in sort of a state of mania, where he has little sympathy for the people around him and how his actions affect others. He's a meanie, and loves to tease at people when ever he sees an opening

- Dust does not like to look in mirrors, or really have his hood off for long periods of time, nor being looked at. Makes him freak out

- he partakes in rabbit like behaviors, his nose twitches when his curious or irritated, he stomps his foot against the ground when he's upset, and he burrows. Accompanied by his tail being a rabbits tail !

- he's also a vampire, like nightmare, but instead of sucking the negativity out of souls, he just has cravings to bite and drink blood, has large sharp fangs, plus being a total night owl.

- he has really bad avoidant attachment when it comes to relationships, he's in fact fearful of gaining close bonds due to the fact he's lost people he's loved over and over and over and over again, before literally killing them off himself. So he purposely pushed himself away from people to not get too close.

- as in the picture above, he has markings speckled all across his face, it's also the same for his body down his arms and shoulders. He's kind of embarrassed about it, and hates it being pointed out

- he goes through psychosis, and psychotic episodes

- he's a stoner lolz (despite maryjane usage very much not being recommended to people who deal with psychosis...)

- his room is a depression room most of the time, he has a little mattress on the floor that looks like a nest

- he's a monster energy drinker because yes

- he's selectively mute, and has a very low social battery. He doesn't like crowded spaces and only has a select few people he talks to (killer, horror, fell)

- he has a hard time remembering to eat and will accidentally and sometimes purposely go days without eating. When he does eat, it's in very small portions, he doesn't like food like he used to.

- he doesn't like touch, don't touch him he will stab you

- Phantom, the papyrus voice in his head. What he says to dust is based on his state of mind. When he's in a normal state of mind, Phantom is a lot more like how papyrus usually acts , getting on Dust for little things like telling him to clean his room or that he has to take care of himself. The voice worsens as his state of mind worsens turning from silly banter to tormenting him about what he's done, and sometimes papyrus can also be like a Jiminy cricket to dust, a judge to his morals, and trying to set him on the right path. Dust hates this , and rarely ever listens.

- one of the things he does in his free time is play video games, he's your basic gamer boy. He likes to play cod mainly

- another hobby of his is that he likes to sew, and patch work his clothing and fabric items, along with making little plushies.

- bad sans poly bad sans poly toxic yaoi ..

That's it for now , I'll probably add more on later !!

Dust belongs to ask-dusttale

#sans undertale #undertale #undertale au #utau #utmv #dusttale sans #dust sans #dusttale #Spotify

288 notes · View notes

hopelesslydevoted2paige · 3 months

Text

004. vicious

pairings: paige bueckers x fem singer!reader

word count: 409

warnings: mentions of hate comments, cursing (like once maybe)

su’s notes: this is kind of a filler chapter tbh my bad.. BUT WE GET A FLASHBACK CHAPTER NEXT YAY!! also maybe azzi should be a potential love interest? idk because i do have a plan for the future which involves another love interest but maybe it should just be azzi… idk guys let me know and enjoy this chapter

series masterlist

everyone thinks you’re an angel but shit, i would probably use different wording

You groaned to yourself, slamming your phone on top of your notebook and putting your head in your hands.

For the past 3 hours, you decided to get back to work and start writing songs for your next album. Though you found it pointless because who would like it if no one even liked you?

You posted a picture of yourself and the notebook on your instagram, only to get hated on by Paige’s fans and some of your own.

You just wanted to dig a very deep hole, crawl into it, and ask Azzi to put the dirt back on top of you.

Curious, you checked the comments of Paige’s new post. Sure enough, there were barely any hate comments. Everyone adoring the chemistry between her and her new girlfriend.

You manically laughed to yourself as you scrolled through their pictures, remembering the times where she would come to you with tears streaming down her face.

And to think that was just 8 months ago.

You started to overthink your past relationship. Did you guys take it too fast? Did you miss any signs? Or was she really just bound to get back with her the moment she showed interest again.

Azzi knocked on your open door, breaking you away from your thoughts. “You okay?”

You shrugged. “I guess.”

She sighs when she sees your phone screen. “You need to stop torturing yourself.” She walks over to the bed to turn it off.

You lean back, your head hitting the soft pillows. “I just don’t get how they’re actually on Paige’s side. Why are you even on my side? You’ve been friends with Paige since high school.”

Azzi crawled into the spot next to you and leaned back, mimicking your position as you both stared at the ceiling. “Maybe because I actually know what happened.” She turned her head to face you. “All these people are just assuming things about you, when no one knows what really happened. I bet Paige isn’t talking about it because she knows she’s gonna get so much shit for it.”

You laugh for the first time in days and turn to make eye contact with her. “Thanks for dealing with me this past month.”

Her cheeks flush slightly. “Of course. You’re kinda starting to annoy me though..” A grin forms on her face.

You glare playfully and grabbed the pillow next to you, hitting her in the face.

She gasps dramatically. “You’re so on!”

crush my heart and wreck my image, why you gotta be so vicious?

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige bueckers angst #uconn wcbb #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #uconn x reader #wcbb x reader #wcbb #wnba #wlw

174 notes · View notes

hollybell51 · 1 year

Text

Last night on Earth

^don't mind me going absolutely feral over this gif

Navigation

Cas x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005), s05e03 "free to be you and me"

Word count:��6.4K

Summary: following the hooker failure, you feel that sitting alone in a shitty abandoned house is not the best way to spend one's last night on Earth. Cas seems to agree with you.

Content: smut! Yay! First kisses, first time, making out, handjobs, hickeys, penetrative sex, safe sex (yay!), cowgirl, mutual masturbation, fingering, gags? if you squint? maybe? like a hand over the mouth. Discussions of sex work and sex workers (I'm not commenting on anything, it's just there as dialogue due to the nature of the episode, and all dialogue/internal monologue regarding the topic is purely for the furtherment of the plot). Talking during sex, Cas is loud. Sex on a couch, spooning, almost-love-confessions ("like-confessions"). Very light comment on body image, some very vague descriptions of scars (reader is a hunter). Cas is just Cas and I love him for it. He's also a virgin. Dean's probably a warning but I adore him.

Notes: Heyyyy how's it going? One day into my holidays and I churn out this bad boy. Couldn't get the idea out of my head, and hey, I'm a sucker for virgin angels. This show is rapidly taking over my whole life lmao.

It's also been a while so I just thought I'd remind people of the taglist form, and the existence of my AO3 (if you wanna read my stuff there for whatever reason). Anyways enjoy, stay safe out there xx

“That was quick,” you called as the door creaked open, Dean’s low chuckle echoing through the hallway. You closed the book you’d been reading – a shitty paperback you’d picked out of a bargain bin – and watched as the other hunter dropped his jacket onto a rusted dining chair. You’d expected them to be gone for a few hours, hence your foray into the realms of “downtime”, but it had barely been one since they’d left, Dean throwing an obscenely enthusiastic wink your way as he shoved an apprehensive looking Cas out to enjoy his last night on Earth.

“We had to wrap it up pretty fast.” Dean glanced over his shoulder at Cas, laughter still clinging to his face. You hadn’t seen him look that happy in ages, not for this long. Well, that was something at least.

You’d had your doubts about the whole idea from the moment Dean had mentioned it. Sure, sex was sex. It was something that could be pretty darn nice and that you were glad for in your life, but you weren’t sure if Dean fully grasped that it was never the same with a hooker. It would never feel as good, it would never be meaningful, it would be a service purchased from a provider. A business transaction. That wasn’t any way to experience it for the first time, in your opinion.

“Good time not a long time, then?” you asked mildly.

“Would you say that, Cas?”

The angel stiffened, hands shoved into the pockets of his trench coat.

You wrinkled your nose, suddenly wondering if you should feel bad. “Bad time?”

Dean snorted. “I’m turning in. You tell (Y/N) about it, she’ll give you a pat on the back and tell you it’s alright. And don’t look so… grief stricken.”

“G’night,” you waved to his retreating back, then turned back to Cas. “Really bad time?”

He really did look grief stricken, standing stock still in the dimness. Even his hair looked droopier than usual, and you almost got out of your seat just to push it off his face. You settled for putting your book down and leaning forward.

“She ran away,” he said after a moment. “I think I scared her.”

“Geez,” you frowned. “How’d you scare a hooker?”

He shrugged. “I told her it wasn’t her fault that her father Gene ran off.” Then, as if it explained everything; “He hated his job at the post office.”

You laughed, but stopped quickly. “Oh, Cas. You know the whole–”

“The whole industry is run on absent fathers, I know.” He sighed. “Dean found it hilarious.”

This time, you did get up, crossing the room to pat his shoulder. You knew Dean wouldn’t have meant anything by it, wouldn’t have been laughing at Cas. Still, a pang of what was almost pity shot through you. It wasn’t about the sex, not really, as much as Dean played that aspect up. It was more all the coulds that never would. Cas wasn’t human, as much as he could pass it off (mostly), but there were so many things that he wasn’t going to get to try now. You just didn’t understand how he could so casually volunteer to die at the drop of a hat. It was either incredibly selfless, or incredibly selfish. Or maybe just stupid.

But no, Cas wasn’t stupid. He was razor sharp, a soldier of God, even if you poked fun at him when he didn’t understand your and Dean’s pop-culture reference infused slang. It had only been the last time you’d seen him that you’d vowed to make him sit through all the Star Wars movies, something you hadn’t realised until afterwards had sounded a lot like a “movie and chill” proposal. Luckily, he wouldn’t have picked up on that. Just like he wouldn’t have picked up – like Dean had – the moments where you caught yourself watching him, or the smiles that were just too damned determined to break out on your face when he showed up – either in the real world or in your mind. And thank the heavens nobody but you noticed the tiny flurries of butterflies in your stomach you’d noticed increasingly often when he was around, the surges of warmth that would sneak up and rush over you unexpectedly when you thought of him, the tingles that flooded your skin when he stood that little bit too close to you.

Which, when you thought about it, was maybe contributing to the ounce of vindication you were feeling regarding the hooker failure. It wasn’t all the “I told you so” type of satisfaction, anyway, and you weren’t too proud to admit when you liked someone.

“Don’t worry about it,” you assured him now, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“You’re giving me a pat on the back and telling me it’s alright,” he sighed, almost mournfully. “Dean said–”

You reached up, pressing a finger to his lips and shaking your head. “You wanna know something?”

He nodded, brows furrowed. He hadn’t drawn back, you noticed.

“It doesn’t matter how much sex Dean has,” you whispered, hand still floating close by his face. “I wouldn’t take a damn letter of his advice in that department.”

“Why not?” His breath tickled your skin, and suddenly you realised just how close you were standing.

You shrugged, dispelling the shiver that had run up your spine. “I just know if a dude came onto me how he comes onto chicks, I’d kick him in the balls.”

“I’ll make a point to not come onto you like he does, in that case.”

It took a moment – past the words “like he does”, not that he wouldn’t come onto you full stop, but like Dean does – for the fact that it was a joke to sink in, then you smiled. Maybe there was, or had been, hope for him yet. You took a breath, turning the words over in your mind. It was now or never, you supposed.

“I want you to know,” you said carefully, “if you die–”

“When. Tomorrow, when I die.”

“Uh, yeah.” You swallowed. How could he be so matter of fact about it? How could he just say it like that? It didn’t matter, you supposed. Whether he said it or didn’t, it wasn’t going to change the fact that it was happening.

“When I die…” he prompted when you were silent.

“I want you to know that I liked you,” you said simply, then shrugged. “I think I was on the way to really liking you.”

He frowned, and for a moment you thought you’d made a massive mistake. “You don’t have to do that,” he said. “I don’t mind. I know I’m… a dick.”

“Jesus, Cas,” you snorted. “Guess we say that a bit too much, don’t we?”

“Maybe.”

“And we don’t say ‘thank you’ enough.”

He shook his head, still holding your hand. “You don’t have to do this,” he repeated.

“It’s not about that. Not all of it, anyway.” You smiled, glancing at your hand where it met his. It looked big, wrapped around your fingers, and it fitted painfully well. “But, you know, if it’s your last night on Earth…” You looked up, wiggling your eyebrows. You could play it off as a joke if you needed to, you weren’t too far in yet.

That familiar almost-smile you’d come to look for danced over his lips. “You pity me, dying a virgin? Dying,” he added. “A virgin.”

You laughed. “I don’t… pity you. Not exactly. Not because you’re gonna die a virgin, and definitely not because you’re a virgin.”

“Because I scared away a prostitute?”

“Her loss,” you laughed. “And anyway, if it’s your first and last time, it’d be nice to… y’know… feel good.”

He frowned. “Surely a prostitute would know how to do that?”

“Maybe the technicalities,” you shrugged, “but there’s more to it than that. There’s feelings, y’know?”

“Feelings?”

Again, you shrugged, suddenly self conscious. What were you doing? “Two way street kind of thing,” you explained lamely. “Not just someone you want, but someone who wants you. Not just your money.” You were acutely aware of the unspoken words floating beneath the casual sentence. I want you. It could be me.

A pause, where his eyes seemed to bore into your soul. He had a knack for that, you’d noticed. Sometimes you felt like he could see right to the very core of your being. In the dimness, they looked even more startlingly blue than usual. He was so close, you could almost count his eyelashes, almost feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath the coat, jacket, shirt, tie…

“When it’s…” He paused, his tongue darting over his lips. God, his lips. “Someone you want.”

“Mhm.”

“Someone who wants you.”

“Mhm.”

“Not just your money.”

You hadn’t taken your eyes off his mouth through the whole exchange, and your voice, when you asked, sounded softer than you’d meant it to, breathy and faint to your own ears. “Do you want me, Cas? Last night on Earth, and all.”

The corner of his mouth curled up, brows twitching into a thoughtful frown. No, you thought, not quite a frown. Something else, more curious than confused. Almost quizzical. “I think…” He paused, drawing breath. “I think I do.”

“Ok,” you smiled, ignoring the butterfly rampage taking place in your stomach. This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to happen in real life. Not your life, anyway, even if it was Cas’s last night on Earth. It didn’t exist outside the pages of those shitty paperbacks.

“Do you want me?” Cas asked.

“Mhm.” It was all you could manage, really. Then you were stretching up the last few inches between your face and his, pressing your lips gently against his own.

He was perfectly still for a heartbeat, two heartbeats, almost three. Then his hand tightened around yours and he pulled you closer, trench coat rustling where your chest met it. He kissed you the way you remembered the first boy who’d ever kissed you – a boy in your year level at school, at a party, playing spin the bottle no less – had kissed you. The want was all there, the enthusiasm and anticipation and the only half-conscious desire for more. His lips remained shut, but you could feel in it that he knew it wasn’t quite right.

You pulled away briefly, just enough to raise a hand to his mouth and run your thumb over his bottom lip. “Like this,” you murmured, pushing just enough to part his lips. Then your hands were in his hair and you were pulling him down to you, and this time it was perfect.

He made a little sound of pleasure as your tongue slipped beside his, stroking, caressing, gently as you could. Without any guidance, his hand had found the cloth-shielded contours of your breast, tracing the outline with a sort of awe. His fingers ran along the neckline of your top, dipping under the material, curving around your bare shoulder, exploratory and cautious.

You let him explore you, his hands mapping out every curve he could touch, tongue darting into every uncharted depth he could find, tasting and learning and discovering parts of you you hadn’t guessed could be felt like this through just a kiss. Your mind spiralled as his hand eased under your shirt, cool fingers tickling the skin of your hip. He squeezed gently, pulling you against him harder, and you gave in completely. You weren’t sure if it was what he had been going for, but when you pushed your pelvis against his he gasped; a quiet, shuddering little sound that went straight to your panties.

“Ok?” you breathed between kisses, then, at his nod, you did it again.

His voice was strangled when he said your name, the pads of his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your waist. Oh Cas, you thought. A rush of affection washed over you at how eager he was, where just an hour before he’d been being literally pushed out the door by Dean, looking as terrified as you’d ever seen him at the prospect of sex. Now he was kissing you hungrily, kneading at your skin, inching your shirt up off your torso, his feet at risk of tangling with yours as he walked you backwards. Not to mention the increasingly noticeable bulge pressed against you.

“Clothes off,” you breathed, already undoing his tie. “On the couch.”

He paused, then he was shrugging off the trench coat, the blazer following suit – no pun intended – and landing with a soft rustling thump on the floor. You stepped back, just a little, as he deftly unfastened the buttons of his shirt, drinking in every inch of skin like a kid in a lolly shop. Fuck, maybe you had the hots for him even worse than you’d thought.

“Are you going to undress too?” The question was mild, matter of fact, but something in the way Cas had paused midway through relieving himself of his pants and was watching you, hands still on the belt buckle, made you stomach flip.

You cleared your throat, but your voice still came out too low, too husky. “Sure.”

His gaze didn’t leave you for an instant – apart from when he kicked his discarded trousers aside – as you pulled your shirt the rest of the way over your head, slid your jeans as gracefully as you could down your legs. You shivered slightly in the cool night air, acutely aware of your hunter’s body.

Cas’s eyes widened, scanning over you and taking in every inch of your skin. It wasn’t perfect, you were aware of that. It wasn’t like a hooker’s body, it carried you around as you fought monsters, and was littered with the proof of said monster fights. You wondered if Cas had seen other – normal – human bodies like this, if he’d find the painfully obvious reminders of your mortality somehow repellent. You suddenly felt very, very small and very, very human.

“Sorry about… y’know…” You shrugged, patting your thigh awkwardly. “The meatsack’s a little dinged up. Most people don’t look like this.”

“Don’t look like what?” he frowned, finally looking back at your face.

You shrugged again, poking a long white scar over your side. The first werewolf you’d ever come face to face with, and nearly the last. “Scarred. At least not as much as I am,” you added.

A shiver shot up your spine as Cas settled his hands on your bare waist, fingers running over the most noticeable marks. “Don’t apologise,” he said softly. “You’re human, and you spend your days killing monsters. It would be more disturbing if you were unblemished.”

You laughed at that, a small breathy sound. “You think I’m disturbing?”

He smiled faintly. “You’re not so bad.”

You felt your own mouth curve, matching his. “Neither are you.”

He leaned down, his lips meeting yours once more. This kiss was softer, more intimate, maybe a little too intimate. You were vaguely aware of the couch behind you. Before your knees knocked against its side, you broke away – a difficult task, given that Cas chased your lips like a lab rat after cheese – and spun, laying your hands firmly on his chest.

“Couch,” you muttered, giving a gentle push.

He pulled you with him as he sat down, his hands running down over your hips, your thighs, back up again to your waist. He watched you carefully as his touch slid up the centre of your torso, over your bra, lingering momentarily on the anti-possession sigil tattooed over your heart before he moved on, across the line of your ribs. Unbidden, the memory of the last time he’d touched you there sprang to mind; the sharp, burning pain and throbbing after-ache of the Enochian sigils being literally carved into your bones.

“I can see them,” he whispered, as if he’d read your mind. “The sigils.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How do they look?”

“Foreign,” he said after a moment. “They don’t belong.”

You shrugged, unsure how to respond to that. Sure, the sigils weren’t part of you, and you didn’t exactly know how you felt about angel writing being carved into your ribcage, but there was also something reassuring about knowing it was there, knowing you carried that kind of magic with you. In you.

Cas’s eyes lifted from your body, fixing on your own. “Can you feel them?” he inquired.

You shook your head. “Not really. Not physically. But I know they’re there.”

“Perhaps I should have asked,” he muttered, almost to himself. “It’s your body, after all.”

“No,” you smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I kinda like the idea of you scribbling on me. Bone graffiti.”

“Bone graffiti?”

You felt the smile grow, nodding. “Besides,” you added, “I’ll always have a little bit of you, even after you're gone. Like a… souvenir.”

“Oh,” was all he said. You supposed people were right about impending death making people sappier. But still, what you said was true. Your own ribs had become a kind of lucky charm, a talisman, a locket of sorts.

You dragged yourself out of that line of thinking before you went any further, turning your attention back to the angel currently underneath you on the couch. Underneath you and very shirtless. You’d placed your own hands on his chest in an attempt to not fall over on top of him, and now you let yourself touch him – really touch him. His chest heaved under your fingers as you swept over him, a tiny, strangled noise falling from his lips.

“Alright?” you asked, pausing for a moment.

He nodded, shifting slightly under you. “It’s good,” he said softly.

“Keep going?”

Again, a nod. Cautiously, gently, you spread your fingers over his chest. His heart beat fast, thudding frantically as you moved your other hand lower, down the centre of his torso, following the contours of his lithe muscles. You reached the waistband of his underpants, pausing.

“Can I?” you asked, your hand hovering over his barely concealed erection.

“Yes,” he whispered, tongue darting over his lips. His eyes flicked from your face to your hand, back to your face again.

You smiled as you slipped your fingers under the waistband of his underwear. His dick was hot to the touch, hard and already damp at the tip. “You ever touched yourself?” you asked as you withdrew your hand, spitting into your palm.

Cas’s breath hitched. “Once.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded, licking his lips again. “Dean said I wasn’t supposed to talk about it.”

“Yeah, well…” You smiled again, wrapping your fingers around his cock and stroking languidly. “You can tell me.”

He gave a sort of half gasp, half moan, his grip tightening on your thigh. “I found Dean’s magazine,” he confessed. “The one with the women, not the cars.”

“Mhm?” You kept your voice mild, focussing on the steady motion of your arm and wrist, your fingers sliding effortlessly over him. You could almost see Cas flipping through the pages of one of those god-awful porn mags Dean insisted on carting around, picture his confused little head-tilt and his frown as he looked through the pictures, his hand creeping to where yours was now, his much larger fingers circling–

“It was uncomfortable,” he continued, jerking you back to the present. “Too hot. I really just wanted it to go away.”

“And did it?”

“Not until I– oh!” He broke off as your thumb slid over the leaking head of his cock, fingers digging into your thigh.

You fought off the surge of heat the sound sent shooting through you, watching his slightly parted lips, his wide eyes. “Did you cum?” you asked evenly.

“Yes,” he panted, hips twitching up slightly. “Oh, (Y/N), yes–”

“Yes, you did cum?”

“Yes, yes I did.”

“Was it good?”

Another soft moan, then he smiled. “Not as good as this.”

Maybe it was the praise, maybe the moan, maybe the smile. Either way, the words went straight to your panties. You ignored it, stopping yourself from grinding against him with willpower that would have impressed Jesus. Although, you weren’t sure how he would have felt about you fucking a literal angel.

You leant forward, kissing his lips gently, then his jaw, then his neck, then his chest. You kept going, tracing a path inexorably downwards, shuffling backwards to straddle his thigh as he shifted with you, now splayed along the couch lengthways.

“Help me out,” you muttered, your hand moving beside your face as you attempted to pull his underwear off. Obediently, he lifted his hips and kicked them aside, the muscles of his stomach twitching as you placed a kiss on the junction of his hip. And holy shit, you could have just watched his torso moving like that forever. You kissed his hip again, sucking gently at the spot, licking over the mark you conjured. Then you added another beside it, and another, and another. A little belt of hickeys across his pelvis.

“Do you, hm, touch yourself too?” he asked, breathless and raw.

“Fuck, Cas.” You paused where you’d been about to kiss the base of his cock, raising your eyes to his. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell again, the skin almost glowing in the dim light.

He frowned. “Am I not supposed to ask that?”

“You can ask me anything you want,” you assured him, kissing the little trail of hair below his belly button. “And yeah, I do.”

“Does it feel good?”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

“Do you…” He paused, searching for the words. “Do you want to do it now?”

“This is about you,” you said softly, giving his cock a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I want you to feel good too.”

You sat up, studying him. There was nothing by sincerity in his eyes, the genuine desire – and desire there was – for you to enjoy yourself. And why shouldn’t you indulge that? You were having a great time as it was, and there was no denying the throbbing ache that had grown exponentially between your legs.

“You want me to touch myself?” you asked, double checking.

He nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Ok.” You shed your own underpants, shivering as the cool air came in contact with your wetness. Slowly, you reached down and ran your finger over your clit, your breath hitching in your chest. You repeated the action, your hand moving further down to circle your entrance, slick gathering on your fingers. You’d done this countless times before, and you weren’t ashamed of it. Masturbation was natural, it was a perfectly normal perfectly human thing to do. This, however was different. You’d never had an audience before, never had anyone watch you with such rapt wonder and awe.

Cas’s eyes flicked down to your bra, then back to your face. A question, almost a request.

“Off?” you asked, already reaching behind your back. He nodded, watching carefully as you shed the garment and cast it aside to join the pile of clothes on the floor. Slowly, reverently, he stretched up and kissed your breast, his hand leaving its place on your hip to trace over the other one.

A shiver ran down your spine and you bit down on your lip, attempting futilely to stifle your moan. Absently, your hand resumed its place between your thighs as Cas’s hand left your chest and found its way to his cock. You’d never in a million years have thought you’d be where you were now; touching yourself on top of an angel touching himself while he did his best to turn your chest into one giant hickey. You were hardly complaining.

Something rustled in the next room over, and you both froze. Fuck, you thought. Dean was still (hopefully) asleep, only the wall and the hastily closed door to that room barring him from hearing you. Cas seemed to have had exactly the same thought, his head tilted slightly as he listened, his breath raising goosebumps on the spit-damp skin of your chest. There was another rustle, then a quiet snort, then nothing. He hadn’t woken, then.

“We gotta be quiet,” you whispered. You shifted, biting back another moan. “Ok?”

“Ok,” Cas nodded. He pressed his lips firmly together, eyes flicking down to where your hand disappeared between your legs. You hissed as you resumed your movement, acutely aware of every possible sound you or Cas made, ears pricked for any other disturbance from nextdoor.

Cas’s free hand was still resting on your thigh, firmly holding you in place on top of himself. His wrist brushed your own with every stroke of his cock, the skin over his stomach and chest twitching ever so slightly. His own thigh tensed as he thrust into his hand, something that you could only describe as a whimper falling from his lips. Heat surged over you, your mind awash with desire. If only that hooker knew what she was missing.

“Sorry,” he muttered almost immediately, eyes darting towards the door.

“‘Salright,” you replied, swallowing hard. Being quiet was a much more difficult task than you’d anticipated, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the possibility of being caught just a little bit. You grunted softly as your finger brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, the familiar rhythm and movements working just as well as ever, and even better when you had Cas to look at. Not to mention the warmth of his mouth where it occasionally found your breasts again.

But you wanted more, you needed more. The same part of you that was electrified by your own touch craved his, especially when his beautiful hands were right there and his eyes were still fixed on you like you were the centre of the universe, his own movements becoming faster and more frantic, chest heaving.

You paused, much as it pained you. “Do you wanna go further?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

Gently, you laid your hand over his and peeled it away from his cock. Wriggling forwards a little, you finally – finally – rocked your hips over his, revelling in the hot hardness of him against your slick. His mouth fell open, fingers tightening on your own.

“Here, Cas. I want you inside me, wanna fuck you properly.”

“Oh, (Y/N),” he sighed, his own hips matching your movement.

“Will you let me? Let me fuck you?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Yes, of course.”

You smiled. “Ok, one second.” You reached over the side of the couch, digging through the pockets of your jeans until you found your wallet – and the little foil package inside it.

“What are you doing?” Cas asked as you tore it open and set the latex atop his dick.

“It’s a condom,” you explained. “So I don’t get pregnant. No offence,” you grinned, “but I don’t really wanna have your babies any time soon.”

“Oh.” He swallowed, processing. “That’s… understandable.”

“All good?” At his nod, you slid the condom the rest of the way down, spitting into your hand once more and resuming your earlier ministrations. “It feels a little different, I know,” you whispered as you moved to grind against him once more.

“It’s still good,” he assured you, placing his hands gently on your hips.

You smiled. “Ready?”

“Yes.” The word was a breath, nothing more, but it was all you needed. Carefully, you lined him up and sank down, watching his face carefully. His eyes widened, his fingers digging into your flesh slightly as a deep groan reverberated through the space between you.

“Gotta be quiet,” you reminded him, your voice not half as steady as you’d have liked. “Don’t wanna wake Dean up, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, “quiet.”

You leaned forwards and placed a soft kiss on his lips, rocking your hips over his. He was everything you’d imagined and so much more. It was like he’d been made for you, the way his cock stroked every inch of your insides, sliding smoothly with how wet you were. You wanted to go back in time and kick your past self for having waited this long.

“God, Cas,” you sighed. “Oh God.”

His brows pinched together slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he stretched up and captured your lips with his, moving down over your jaw to your neck, sucking gently just as you’d done to the skin of his hip. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close against you as you lifted and lowered your hips, a faint whine somehow slipping from your lips despite your best efforts.

“Is this, hm, ok?” he asked, his usually gravelly voice made even more so.

“Fuck,” you gasped as his hand came to rest on your ass, kneading at the soft flesh, moving up over the front of your hips where your leg met the rest of your body. “So good, Cas.”

“You’re so good,” he murmured, guiding your movements gently. He thrust into you, his hips meeting yours halfway, stomach muscles flexing.

“Let me,” you said, pushing him backwards into the couch cushions. “You relax, yeah? I’ve got it. I’ve got you.”

He nodded, head tipping back as you bounced on his dick, the rough fabric of the cushion beneath you scratching at your knees. Fumbling slightly, your hands found purchase on his chest and you locked your elbows in an odd sort of imitation of CPR. If CPR was done from the front rather than the side, you supposed, but you weren’t exactly doing any resuscitation.

His chest heaved under your touch, another low groan seeming to echo in the otherwise stillness of the night. The tiny part of your brain that wasn’t totally consumed with the wonderful pleasure-ache of his cock hitting deep inside you and the burn of your thighs was torn between telling him to be quiet and just listening to him, but then he was licking his lips again and his mouth was falling open and you were lost.

“(Y/N),” he panted, his eyes fixed on your face. “Oh, (Y/N), oh my–”

“Alright?” you asked, biting back a moan as you found a particularly good angle.

“Yes, yes, of course. It’s, hm, so good.” He glanced momentarily down at where your body met his, another groan rumbling in his chest.

“Sh–” you whispered, half tempted to press your hand over his mouth. Or maybe your own, given the struggle you were facing to remain quiet yourself.

“Sorry, sorry I–”

You cut him off quickly. “It’s alright Cas, you’re fine. Just, fuck–”

“(Y/N),” he panted, the muscles of his arms and stomach flexing as his fingers gripped the couch cushion, luminescent in the dimness. Again, his eyes flicked downwards, this time to the soft mound of flesh currently on display.

You smiled, reaching down to take his hand, drawing it up to rest over your pelvis. His skin was warmer than you’d ever felt it, faintly clammy and God his hand was big under your own. You couldn’t count the number of times you’d caught yourself picturing his hands in this kind of context, and you didn’t want to try. His fingers splayed over your skin, moving with you, covering the whole space below your naval.

“That’s where you are,” you panted. “That’s where I can feel you, Cas, right there.”

A small, strained noise you could only describe as a whine. “Is it, ah, good? Do you like it? Do you like feeling… me?”

“Fuck,” you sighed. “Yeah, sure do, Cas. Do you like feeling me?”

He smiled, biting down hard on his lower lip. “Of course. I like it immensely.”

You felt yourself clench at his words, and this time you were unable to restrain the downright pornographic moan that tore from your throat. Any other time, you might have been embarrassed, but Cas seemed to like it. Pressing your lips firmly together, you glanced hastily towards the other room, but as far as you could tell there was no disturbance.

“(Y/N), oh, (Y/N), I don’t think—” He swallowed hard, eyes wide and back on your face.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t— I don’t think I can be quiet, (Y/N) I—”

Affection bloomed alongside the desire in your gut, and you had half a mind to tell him it was alright, he didn’t even have to worry about being quiet at all. It wasn’t like you didn’t love the noises he was making. But Dean was only one room over, and you didn’t want to wake him.

“You can, Cas,” you breathed, “you can. You’re doing so well already, we just gotta— fuck.”

He’d bucked his hips up into you, the movement jolting the steady knot of pleasure forming low in your stomach. He was close, you could see it as much as hear it, but the thought of the thin walls and your friend sleeping in the next room over had taken root more firmly in your mind now.

“It’s so much,” Cas gasped. “Oh, oh, (Y/N) it’s so much—”

You managed a smile, slowing down your movements a little. “I know,” you said softly. “You’re ok, yeah?”

He nodded frantically. “Hm, yes, yes. Please, don’t stop. Keep going, please—”

Another soft moan slipped from your mouth, Cas’s answering groan enough to make your legs shake. It was too loud, and any other time you’d have soaked up his praises and curses and everything, but not now. After a moment’s hesitation, you clamped your hand firmly over his mouth, sh-ing him gently. If possible, his eyes widened even further and he groaned against your skin.

“Alright?” you breathed.

Another frantic nod, an almost-whimper as your grip firmed up. Well I’ll be damned, you thought vaguely. Who’d have guessed he was into that?

You felt him shiver all over as you continued to rock your hips over his, his hand where it rested on your hip tightening. You wondered if you’d have finger-shaped bruises later. It didn’t matter, you told yourself as he moaned again, his stomach muscles tensing, something that could have been your name squashed under your hand.

“Sh, shh!” you gasped. Between holy shit I’m so close and holy shit he’s so close, the thought that Dean was right there and would hear you was still rooted in your mind. “Cas, sh, Dean’s right– ah, fuck, Dean’s–”

You broke off as Cas’s chest heaved, his hips bucking up into you once more. His mouth had fallen open under your hand and he was gasping something, angel curse-words, maybe? It didn’t matter, not when his eyes were screwed shut and his head was tipped back, your name sprinkled into the litany of foreign words like a prayer.

The sight was enough to make the bomb that had been building in your stomach explode, sparks of pleasure shooting through your aching legs right to your toes and back up again. You might have said Cas’s name, you weren’t sure, but the sentiment was there. You clamped a hand over your own mouth, nothing but the need to be quiet reverberating through your pleasure-blanked mind.

After what felt like an age, your brain managed to find its way back into your skull and the aftershocks of your orgasm faded from your body. Gently, you removed your hand from Cas’s mouth and looked down at him, smiling.

“Alright?” you asked.

His hair was a mess, his brow lightly beaded with sweat, cheeks flushed. There was even a slight red mark where your hand had been, which you stroked gently.

“I’m more than alright,” he smiled, turning to place a tiny kiss on your fingers. “Are you?”

“Good,” you nodded as you slid off him, mourning the sudden emptiness momentarily as you peeled off the condom, tying it in a neat knot to be disposed of later. Then he was lifting his arm, wriggling with you as if he could read your mind, and you were being cocooned against his body.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, “if I was too loud.”

“You weren’t,” you assured him quickly. “Not at all. Sorry about… gagging you. I should’ve asked. That’s not what usually happens.”

He hesitated, turning to meet your eyes. “I… didn’t mind.”

“No?”

He shook his head, a small, nervous smile dancing across his lips. “No. In fact, I quite liked it.”

You felt your own smile widen as you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, taking his hand where it rested on his chest. “Good,” you said. “What about the rest? What do you think?”

He sighed, a beautifully satisfied noise that flooded you with warmth. “I think I should not have waited this long.”

You laughed, pressing closer. “Mhm?”

“Mhm. Thank you, (Y/N), truly.”

“Oh,” you said softly, turning away to hide the blood rushing to your face. “That’s ok, Cas. Thank you.”

He gave another little hum, shifting to drape his arm over your waist and pull you into him, fingers skimming your ribs. Getting spooned by a divine warrior of God, you thought with a thrill. Real life really was stranger than fiction.

“You’re tired,” he murmured, his voice seeming to rumble through you in the best way possible. “You should sleep.”

“Hold on,” you protested as you felt his arm withdrawing. You grabbed his hand, pulling it firmly back down to rest on your stomach, wiggling closer. “There was a blanket on the back, grab that. I’m staying here.”

You could almost feel him frowning when he replied. “You’d not rather a bed?”

You only hesitated a moment before bending to kiss his arm. “I’d rather you.”

He didn’t seem to know quite what to say to that, but after a beat something heavy and slightly scratchy was being draped over you, and Cas’s arm was tightening around your waist, and his lips were pressing against your shoulder.

“G’night,” you whispered.

“Good night, (Y/N).”

It was Dean who found his two friends curled together on the couch the next morning. He snorted, taking in the gentle rise and fall of your shoulders in tandem with Cas’s, his hand enveloping your smaller one where it rested just above the blanket, the assortment of what was very clearly Cas’s suit and your own clothes scattered over the floor. Well, he supposed, the night hadn’t been a complete failure. He had half a mind to throw something at you, the scene was so jarringly… sweet.

“Rise n’ shine lovebirds,” he called instead, “we’ve got shit to do.”

#supernatural #castiel #castiel x reader #castiel smut #castiel x you #supernatural fanfiction #shameless smut #supernatural smut #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #cas x reader #female reader #x reader #reader insert

2K notes · View notes

luvistqrzzz · 1 year

Text

im super shy super shy

but wait a minute while I make you mine, make you mine

as if bribing people with pringles to vote for him as class prez wasn't enough, riki had to get respectable amount of grades to really contest in it. so, what happens when a hopeless riki approaches you, his quiet shy classmate whose painfully crushing on him, to tutor him? will you take his offer to finally shoot your shot?

pairings- niki x f.reader

genre- smau with written parts, classmates to lovers, crush!niki, fluff, pinch of angst maybe, high school!au, shy girl x popular boy kinda, tutor!reader (cliche ikkk)

warnings- profanity, rest tba according to chapters

taglist- open - send an ask or comment to be added (bold=cannot tag)

@heesluvrgirl @yenqa @latriii @gyulune @flwrshee @imhuh @str0l0gy @rshmra @kjrcrz @gyuszie @hysgf @dneltrise @aernx @yunicide @beomgyusonlywife @i-izumii @cha0thicpisces @misoxhappy @sunoosluvr @txtmetonight @captivq @useraerin @girlindiesel @pinkbarbi3dolly @rikislady @heetoldme @j1nniee @k1ttylvr @whoschr @staryyeon @soomelon @thea-herondale @enhaz1 @smollquokka @svn-lvn @chaerybae @en-dream @gothvkth @spilled-coffee-cup @ashy1um @jayujus @yumilovesloona @teddywonss @darlingalieee @haechansbbg @chaechae-23 @angrybananapolice @jwonsite @mrowwww @elysianeclipxe @07myonlylove @str4wb3rizz

permanent taglist- i wont tag yall in the chapters this is for boosting so lmk if you want to be in the smau taglist :) - @/rikizm @/str0l0gy @/yenqa @/heetoldme @_crxzs @/s00buwu

status- ON HOLD until further notice !!

featuring- woonhak from bnd, danielle, haerin and hanni from njs, eunchae from lesserafim, jungwon and sunoo from enha and other idols

start- 11/07/2023

end- ???

inspired by- super shy by new jeans

an- after sm of tries i finally made a good enough header yay!! Okay but this is such an impulse posting esp considering how i have another smau going😭😭!! But but this is was a silly little idea i got so i really really hope yall enjoy it hehe🫶🏼

note- all the images used here are for reference only and in no way describe the reader's appearence. this is merely a work of fiction and do not represent the mentioned idols in any way. pls dont spam like or else ill block

playlist profiles therapy sesh w/danielle shrek enthusiasts

chapters ☆ = (partly)written

001 /wink wink/

002 run

003 truth hurts bestie

004 is that a yes?

005 sus 2.0

006 dumb but in a cute way ☆

007 square zero

008 shut up simp ☆

009 🥺YES🥺 OR ❤️‍🔥YES ❤️‍🔥

010 movie date except its not a date

(more tba)

I'm all nervous 'cause you're on my mind all the time

reblogs are vvv appreciated networks- @hyfenet @enhanet

work belongs to @/luvistqrzzz do not copy repost or translate my work

#🖇️—super shy #enhypen imagines #enhypen smau #enhypen fanfiction #enhanet #enhypen x reader #niki x reader #niki enhypen #enhypen fanfics #enhypen fake texts #enhypen au #niki fanfic #niki imagines #enhypen fluff #enha fake texts #enha fics

867 notes · View notes

hunieday · 8 months

Text

TEA Take - Shuffle unit Event Story Translation

Please note that I am not a professional translator and I'm only doing this to share the side materials to those who cannot access them, if you notice any mistakes please let me know nicely. Enjoy!

Nanase Riku: Everyone watching the video, good evening! Ready... set...

TEA Take: It's "TEA take"!

Yaotome Gaku: "8th Anniversary! Four Thanks Project"!

Momo: Celebrating the formation of our limited time unit! The "Ask this and that!?" edition!

Mido Torao: "TEA take"’s version! Let’s get it started!

TEA Take: Yay!

Mido Torao: Well then, let’s start off by the questions we received from the staff members.

Mido Torao: "TEA take" members, are you getting along well?

Mido Torao: ...is our first question. What do you think?

Momo: Do we?

Nanase Riku: Do we get along?

Yaotome Gaku: Do we now?

Mido Torao: Why are you all pointing at me?

Yaotome Gaku: We had many opportunities to work with IDOLiSH7 and Re:vale.

Nanase Riku: Oh, that’s why! Mido-san, you're being polite because you’re the MC!

Mido Torao: You’re right. I told you I definitely shouldn’t be the MC.

Yaotome Gaku: And we told you it’s fine. You’re getting quite used to it.

Nanase Riku: Your polite speech is refreshing~!

Mido Torao: But you know that Momo-san is right here.

Momo: I want to see my juniors shine as well! But as you can see, it's kinda chaotic here.

Nanase Riku: I get it! It's fun! It feels different from IDOLiSH7, but it's comfortable.

Mido Torao: Yeah. It’s relaxing in a good way.

Momo: By the way, Tora-chan. You were shutting yourself out pretty hard at the start! Or the door to your heart at least!

Mido Torao: No, that's not it. How do I say it…I was just observing the situation…

Yaotome Gaku: You were nervous, weren’t you?

Mido Torao: No, not really...

Nanase Riku: I was nervous too! About Mido-san!

Mido Torao: Seriously!?

Nanase Riku: I was! Because there's no one like you in IDOLiSH7.

Nanase Riku: What do you call it again? The "Orya Orya" type?

Momo: You mean the “Ora ora” type?

Nanase Riku: Yes! The domineering type...

Yaotome Gaku: Nanase, didn't you call me something similar beforehand?

Nanase Riku: The "Orya Orya" type?

Yaotome Gaku: Like a domineering kinda guy. You were scared of me at first, right?

Nanase Riku: Rather than scared, I thought of you as an enemy.

Yaotome Gaku: An enemy?

Nanase Riku: Well you know, because I had the image of someone who took Tenn-nii...Kujo-san away from me...

—PLEASE WAIT A MOMENT—

Mido Torao: Uhhh...

Mido Torao: Well then, let’s start off by the questions we received from the staff members!

Nanase Riku: Please do!!

Mido Torao: The question is, "TEA take" members, are you getting along well? What do you guys think?

Momo: We’re getting along very well.

Yaotome Gaku: We very much are. What about you, Mido?

Mido Torao: I feel like we do. I was a little nervous at first.

Momo: I heard that Riku was also nervous about Torao?

Nanase Riku: Ah, that’s right... there’s really no “orya orya” type of guy in IDOLiSH7.

Mido Torao: ...w...why "rya" specifically…

Nanase Riku: ...W-What’s wrong?! You suddenly covered your face! Are you crying?!

Momo: He’s not crying, don’t worry. Tora-chan is shaking from laughter.

Yaotome Gaku: Ah, it’s the “orya orya”.

Momo: Because he said “orya orya”.

Nanase Riku: Ah…I’m glad you’re okay…

Mido Torao: …heh…heh...ha…

Momo: He’s holding back his laughter.

Yaotome Gaku: He’s quite earnest.

Momo: So he has an earnest side too.

Nanase Riku: Even though he’s an orya orya guy.

Momo: Oh. It’s so over.

—PLEASE WAIT A MOMENT—

Momo: Well then, the great senior Momo-chan from Re:vale will take the lead!

Yaotome Gaku & Nanase Riku & Mido Torao: Please…!!

Momo: In order to get to know each other better, let’s take this opportunity to ask each other questions!

Momo: Let’s start off by the questions we received from the staff members~

Yaotome Gaku & Nanase Riku & Mido Torao: Yay!

Momo: The question is, "TEA take" members, are you getting along well…

Momo: Who here thinks we’re getting along well!

Nanase Riku: Me!

Yaotome Gaku: Me!

Mido Torao: Me!

Momo: We’re all really good friends! Next question!

Yaotome Gaku: Wait a sec. Aren’t we going too fast?

Momo: This question is causing a lot of accidents. Let’s just move on from it as quick as possible…

Mido Torao: I'm sorry, seriously...

Nanase Riku: Don't worry about it, Mido-san!

Mido Torao: Wait a damn minute, one of them was YOUR fault!

Momo: The friendly atmosphere will be compromised if we fight!? People might think we're feigning it for business!?

Momo: In that case, quickly share stories about our friendship, Gaku!

Yaotome Gaku: What!? Out of nowhere...!?

Yaotome Gaku: ...

Yaotome Gaku: Oh right, so I was naked during the costume fitting…

—PLEASE WAIT A MOMENT—

Momo: Let the great senior Momo-chan of Re:vale take over!

Yaotome Gaku & Nanase Riku & Mido Torao: Yay!

Momo: Leading with a partition of love and courage!

Yaotome Gaku & Nanase Riku & Mido Torao: Yay!

Momo: We're going to ask everyone some questions!

Yaotome Gaku & Nanase Riku & Mido Torao: We’ll be in your care…!!

Momo: In order to get to know each other better, let’s take this opportunity to ask each other questions!

Momo: Uh…Let’s start off by the questions we received from the staff members, are you getting along well?

Nanase Riku: We’ve become good friends! I love you all!

Yaotome Gaku: Yes, we have. I've worked with Momo-san and Nanase before.

Yaotome Gaku: But I’ve become especially friendly with Mido, I think I got to know his personality and work attitude through this job.

Mido Torao: Thank you very much. I feel the same way.

Momo: But it was fun, right? We enjoyed spending our time together. You’re comfortable to be around.

Nanase Riku: I think so too! Everyone is so kind and easygoing.

Yaotome Gaku: We didn't have to worry too much.

Mido Torao: You could say that.

Momo: Fufufu... There's a reason for that. And Momo-chan knows it.

Yaotome Gaku: Ohh! What is it?

Momo: It's a surprise! I’ll reveal it as we go through everyone’s questions!

Nanase Riku: I'm curious!

Yaotome Gaku: I’m looking forward to it.

Momo: Alright, shall we start with Riku? Do you have a question you wanna ask us?

Nanase Riku: Yes! My question for everyone is...

Nanase Riku: How can I become cooler?

Momo: You’re asking now!?

Yaotome Gaku: Nanase is asking that!?

Mido Torao: I was born this way...

Nanase Riku: Somehow the three of you here specifically are the coolest!

Momo: Specifically!? Momo-chan is the coolest in Re:vale!?

Nanase Riku: That's right. Yuki-san is cool too, of course.

Nanase Riku: But the more you get to know him, the fluffier he gets…

Yaotome Gaku: Oh, I get it. The cool part is seriously cool though.

Nanase Riku: Yes! Both of them are cool though!

Nanase Riku: The more I get to know Momo-san, the cooler I think you are.

Momo: Huh, I'm so happy! I’m flustered!

Nanase Riku: Yaotome-san, Mido-san! You two are cool in a straightforward way!

Yaotome Gaku: Thank you.

Mido Torao: Thanks.

Yaotome Gaku: Nanase is cool too, though. I feel like we had a similar conversation before.

Nanase Riku: Oh, right. I think we did! It's not that I’m insecure, but the song...

Yaotome Gaku: The song?

Nanase Riku: Our song for "TEA take" sounds like something you’d escort your guest with style while playing it, doesn’t it?

Nanase Riku: That's right! maybe that's why I thought of Momo-san and not Yuki-san.

Momo: Ah! An escort!

Mido Torao: Ah... that guy doesn’t seem like he’d be good at it...

Yaotome Gaku: No, but he's very hospitable. He's a great cook as well.

Momo: Yup! Darling is super hospitable!

Momo: But I get what Riku and Torao mean. You mean a stylish escort like we see in movies, right?

Nanase Riku: That's right! Someone like our group’s Nagi.

Momo: That guy is cool isn’t he!

Nanase Riku: I think Yaotome-san and Mido-san fit the job as well.

Yaotome Gaku: Well, we're manly.

Mido Torao: You just gotta be put together, right?

Momo: That's not true. You gotta take the lead with more consideration...wait a minute, Tora-chan, you’re the youngest brother right?!

Mido Torao: Y-Yes.

Momo: I totally see it! You give off strong little brother vibes!

Mido Torao: Wuh, really...?

Momo: I get it because I’m also the youngest brother. This is what I was trying to say earlier! Riku is also the younger brother, right?

Nanase Riku: That's right! Oh, wait a minute... so everyone here except for Yaotome-san is a younger brother?

Mido Torao: Ohh?

Momo: That's right!

Yaotome Gaku: Now that I think about it, the three of you somehow have similar vibes.

Mido Torao: Seriously? Where...?

Yaotome Gaku: ...You kinda...

Yaotome Gaku: You have that charm.

Nanase Riku & Momo & Mido Torao: Charm...

Yaotome Gaku: You act like spoiled children.

Momo: Spoiled children...

Nanase Riku: Spoiled children, huh...

Mido Torao: Spoiled children...?

Yaotome Gaku: Today, before this recording. We all probably received the same script right?

Nanase Riku: Yes, probably…

Yaotome Gaku: Did you read through it beforehand or did you just stuff it in your bag?

Mido Torao: Well I stuffed it.

Yaotome Gaku: You sure did.

Yaotome Gaku: The three of you asked me to show it to you.

Nanase Riku: I did…!

Momo: So did I! Since you’re so diligent…!

Mido Torao: Me too… my bad. I just happened to see you hold one….

Yaotome Gaku: It's okay. Don't worry about it. I’m not complaining about it, just thought that you guys are similar in that regard.

Momo: I do everything perfectly when Yuki is around…! Otherwise I’m a pretty big slacker?!

Momo: So, when TRIGGER is around, I ask for TRIGGER’s help with everything…

Nanase Riku: I know how you feel! TRIGGER feels like that kinda group, right?

Mido Torao: What kinda group is that…

Momo: Don't worry, Torao. Nowadays ZOOL feels like that kind of group to me as well.

Mido Torao: What do you mean!?

Nanase Riku: Natsume-san does everything, right? I'm always grateful to him.

Mido Torao: What and how does he help you normally…?

Momo: In my case, even though I’m reliable, I like to rely on Iori as well. It’s impressive since he’s still a minor too…

Nanase Riku: I'm sure Iori would be very sarcastic even with a senior. He doesn’t care about whether or not they’re older than him.

Yaotome Gaku: Re:vale is also really strong during performances. They are also amazing at ad-libbing.

Yaotome Gaku: On our end, all three of us are the type who can’t be satisfied until we prepare well.

Momo: Here comes a question from Momo-chan!

Nanase Riku: Oh! Please go ahead!

Momo: Among the members of "TEA take", who would you choose as your little sister?

Yaotome Gaku & Nanase Riku & Mido Torao: Little sister...!?

Momo: To be honest was thinking of asking who would be the older or the younger brother.

Momo: But then I realized you might decide based on age, with me as the older brother and Riku as the younger one.

Yaotome Gaku: Oh, you might be right…

Momo: So, little sister it is! Well then, Tora-chan, you answer first!

Mido Torao: A little... a little sister…? Ah, I really wanted a little sister though...

Mido Torao: ...From within this group, right?

Momo: That's right, big brother!

Nanase Riku: Tora-nii!

Yaotome Gaku: Yo, big bro.

Mido Torao: Don’t “yo big bro” me.

Yaotome Gaku: No good?

Mido Torao: …

Mido Torao: Nanase, maybe...

Nanase Riku: Yaaay!

Momo: Awww, I've been rejected! Can you tell us why?

Mido Torao: The way he said Tora-nii… was kinda cute.

Nanase Riku: Thank you, Tora-nii!

Momo: Alright, next! What about you, Gaku?

Yaotome Gaku: I think it would be Momo-san.

Momo: I’m happy to hear that! Gaku-niichan…!

Mido Torao: You decided on that quickly and with no hesitation. Why’s that?

Yaotome Gaku: It's not like that, Mido.

Mido Torao: Huh?

Yaotome Gaku: Actually, I was torn between you two.

Mido Torao: Huh... I felt oddly giddy...

Nanase Riku: I felt oddly rejected...

Momo: This is TRIGGER's Yaotome Gaku. Even if you think you're used to him, he surprises you with a head-on attack.

Yaotome Gaku: Ahaha. What are you even saying?

Momo: Why did you pick me?

Yaotome Gaku: I feel like I’d be very worried if Nanase were my little sister.

Momo: Ah, that’s how it is!

Yaotome Gaku: But I don't like it when my parents interfere with me too much.

Yaotome Gaku: If I were to be worried about a little sister, I wouldn’t know what to do.

Yaotome Gaku: So, I wanted a little sister like Momo-san who’s strong and well-behaved enough for me not to worry about.

Mido Torao: Don’t make it sound like I’d have behavioral issues.

Nanase Riku: Though I feel like Momo-san as a little sister would definitely be popular. Is that fine by you?

Yaotome Gaku: Even if you were extremely popular, you'd still choose Yuki-san, right? So I’ll rest assured. I’m sure you’d still have a good eye.

Momo: Big brother, you're so wonderful…

Momo: If Gaku had a little sister, finding a boyfriend who’d be better than him would be tough.

Yaotome Gaku: What about you, Nanase? Who would you want as a little sister?

Nanase Riku: Huh!? I wonder who... it's hard to decide...

Nanase Riku: ...Maybe Haruka-kun...?

Momo: I thought we were picking someone from our group?

Mido Torao: You mean Haruka from ŹOOḼ? What’s your reasoning?

Nanase Riku: He’s the same age as Iori and Tamaki. Even though they feel older than me sometimes…

Nanase Riku: But Haruka-kun doesn't feel that way, so I'd like him as a little sister.

Mido Torao: Isn't it impossible for him to be a little sister? That guy’s really cool.

Nanase Riku: Is that so?

Mido Torao: He's totally amazing. The type that drags you along forcefully.

Mido Torao: Right now he's still just a kid, but eventually, nobody might be able to resist him, right?

Yaotome Gaku: Wow! I’m looking forward to seeing what his future looks like!

Momo: That kid has charisma! I felt the same when Tenn-chan appeared too.

Nanase Riku: Tenn... Having Kujo Tenn-san as a little sister would be nice too.

Mido Torao: Please don't dodge the topic so blatantly.

Nanase Riku: Though because I rely on both Momo-san and Yaotome-san too much, it's hard for me to think of them as little sisters...

Nanase Riku: I guess that leaves me with Mido-san...

Mido Torao: Sorry for not taking care of you.

Nanase Riku: Just kidding, Tora-nii!

Mido Torao: This is bad... I’m starting to find him a bit cute now...

Momo: You’re way too cute Tora-chan, you’re so easy to sway.

Yaotome Gaku: Nobody chose me as a little sister at all.

Yaotome Gaku: Next time, I'll do my best to get my sisterly points.

Mido Torao: If I had such a handsome little sister, I wouldn't stand a chance as an older brother.

Momo: How about we go to our next question? Are you ready, Gaku? Or Torao?

Mido Torao: A…About what?

Yaotome Gaku: Then, I'll go first.

Yaotome Gaku: So about our groups…mine is TRIGGER.

Yaotome Gaku: What's the difference between your groups and this unit? Of course, they're totally different, but what’s the difference in your perspective?

Nanase Riku: The difference from IDOLiSH7...

Mido Torao: Ah, my question might be similar. That’s sort of what I was thinking.

Mido Torao: I was going to ask how you'd describe your experience doing "TEA take" to the members of your group. If you were asked, how would you describe it?

Momo: Interesting! Let's combine the elements from both questions and answer them at once.

Momo: Who's going first?

Nanase Riku: I'll think about it for a moment!

Momo: Sure, that’s fine! If you two aren't ready either, should I go first?

Mido Torao: Please.

Yaotome Gaku: Go ahead.

Momo: First of all, the biggest difference is that it's not Yuki's song.

Yaotome Gaku & Nanase Riku & Mido Torao: Ah...

Momo: I'm a huge HUGE fan of Yuki, so when it comes to Yuki's song, I absolutely, DEFINITELY want to deliver it to the fans in the best possible way!!!

Momo: I get so fired up I feel like I’m participating in a national competition. That’s how I feel every single time actually.

Yaotome Gaku: You're a great partner, Momo-san. Yuki-san would be happy to hear that.

Momo: I wonder... Yuki seems happier when we're on the same page.

Momo: I know that, but my darling is way too handsome, so I can’t help it...

Mido Torao: Um...

Momo: Hm?

Mido Torao: Um... Nevermind, I’m sure it’s nothing.

Momo: What’s on your mind? Don’t hesitate to ask~!

Mido Torao: Is it alright if I ask in front of the cameras?

Momo: If not I’ll just cut it off and start from the beginning again!

Mido Torao: That’s tough.

Yaotome Gaku: You’ve already made it this far, just ask.

Nanase Riku: Hey, I hear that a lot too!

Nanase Riku: They tell me this a lot, Mido-san!

Mido Torao: Fine, I get it! Then listen carefully.

Mido Torao: Um…

Momo: Mhm! Go ahead!

Mido Torao: About Re:vale’s married couple bit...

Mido Torao: How much of it is true...?

Momo: Oh! That's a good question!

Mido Torao: Oh, thank goodness..

Momo: Torao.

Mido Torao: Yes.

Momo: Let's talk about it later in the dressing room!

Mido Torao: Yes... Wait what…!?

Yaotome Gaku: Is it out?

Nanase Riku: It’s safe!

Mido Torao: Huuuh!? Was that dangerous after all!? Are Re:vale really...

Momo: Let's get back to the topic!

Nanase Riku: It's okay, Mido-san! I often do that kind of thing too!

Mido Torao: Really!? Thank goodness!?

Yaotome Gaku: Come on, let's get back to the topic.

Nanase Riku & Mido Torao: Yes!

Momo: Thanks, Gaku!

Momo: So, that’s how I feel when I’m working as Re:vale.

Momo: It's not that I neglect my solo work or anything, it's just that passion naturally flows through me and bursts.

Momo: In that sense, projects like this one where we can relax and enjoy ourselves are great.

Momo: Everyone is cute, the songs and costumes are great, it's amazing! It's fun! That’s how I feel!

Yaotome Gaku: I kinda understand where you’re coming from. Everyone here is relaxed, aren’t we?

Momo: That's right! I feel like we won’t have any problems in this group, and if we do, we can handle them pretty well!

Nanase Riku: I feel the opposite about Yuki-san. He seems relaxed when he’s around Momo-san, but when he’s alone he turns into a cool senior…

Momo: Huh! That's nice! I want to be Yuki’s junior and have him take care of me as well!

Nanase Riku: Ah, but he can be a bit of a weirdo, you know!

Momo: What do you mean by weirdo? My darling is always handsome, right!?

Nanase Riku: He is handsome!

Yaotome Gaku: I think Yuki-san probably wants to rely on you as well. What would you tell Yuki-san?

Yaotome Gaku: This is Mido's question, if you want to tell him about our unit.

Momo: I’d say that it was fun! Everyone was nice and cute!

Momo: At first, I wondered how it would turn out. Especially if Gaku and Torao would get along.

Momo: Look! Both of you are good kids at heart, but you seem like you’d get into fights!

Momo: But Torao turned out to be more mature and considerate than I thought.

Mido Torao: Actually... um, can I say this? Ah, I did it again.

Momo: Say it, say it!

Mido Torao: Around the time the limited-time unit was decided, Ryuunosuke... I got a call from TRIGGER's Tsunashi-san.

Yaotome Gaku: From Ryuu?

Mido Torao: He said that Gaku is a top-notch idol he respects, but also a really good guy... or something like that. He thought it would be a learning experience for me.

Mido Torao: He wasn't as condescending, but that’s the general idea…

Yaotome Gaku: Ryuu said something like that huh. He talked to me about you too.

Mido Torao: Seriously!? What did he say?

Yaotome Gaku: He may look mature, but on the inside he's an inexperienced boy who’s not used to this world. A clumsy guy if you will.

Mido Torao: ...I…Is that so...

Nanase Riku: Are you okay?

Mido Torao: No, I'm happy and moved... to be cared for like that...

Yaotome Gaku: Ryuu is a very caring guy. And because Ryuu told me that, every time I talked to you I felt like I was talking to Yotsuba.

Mido Torao: I’m not as childish as Sougo's partner...

Nanase Riku: Tamaki is quite mature. There are times when he seems more mature than Yamato-san.

Momo: That kid's been through a lot. But this recent development is good. Feels like a secret story about the formation of this group.

Mido Torao: Ah, that's good.

Momo: So what’s next? Who will answer?

Yaotome Gaku: I can go.

Momo: Oh. Then, Gaku-kun, please!

Yaotome Gaku: Yes.

Yaotome Gaku: The difference between TRIGGER and this unit is that our group meticulously practices until everyone is satisfied...

Nanase Riku: I understand...!

Momo: That's true…! Honestly, you guys are really great…

Yaotome Gaku: Yeah. To be frank, there were a few things I wasn’t fully satisfied with.

Momo: Ahahaha! Like dance rehearsals, right? It sounds like you wanted to practice more!

Yaotome Gaku: I’d have loved to. But of course, I can't ask for too much with everyone's schedules.

Nanase Riku: If we have free time, let's do it again!

Yaotome Gaku: Nanase, aren't you busy?

Nanase Riku: I’m not sure... If I'm not busy! I'll contact you again!

Momo: I'll contact you if I suddenly have free time as well!

Yaotome Gaku: Thank you very much.

Mido Torao: ...

Mido Torao: Ah... Well, I also...

Yaotome Gaku: Thanks. But you don't have to force yourself to match. Your dance moves were perfect.

Mido Torao: No, it's okay. I’m done filming the drama, so I have some free time to spare.

Momo: That's great! Let's all come together when our schedules align!

Yaotome Gaku & Nanase Riku & Mido Torao: Yes!

Momo: Alright, Gaku! Lastly, what would you tell TRIGGER about us?

Yaotome Gaku: Well, I think I’d say we had a great journey.

Nanase Riku: A journey! That sounds great!

Yaotome Gaku: Right? Because TRIGGER is a place where we can go on a journey with new companions.

Yaotome Gaku: Seeing different scenery, experiencing new things with different companions.

Yaotome Gaku: The final destination of the journey… will probably be the live event.

Yaotome Gaku: Although we haven't reached there yet, we’ve already promised the best journey. We’ll create lots of wonderful memories.

Yaotome Gaku: So, I'm looking forward to it.

Momo: A fantastic journey with fantastic memories. What an amazing thing to say, Gaku!

Nanase Riku: How nice would it be to bring back lots of memories when we say we’re home!

Yaotome Gaku: Exactly! That's right! How about you, Mido? What's the difference between here and ŹOOḼ?

Mido Torao: It might be similar to Momo-san’s answer.

Mido Torao: I'm the oldest in ZOOL.

Yaotome Gaku & Nanase Riku & Momo: Yeah!

Mido Torao: Even though I say oldest, maybe Touma is more reliable. But I'm still technically the oldest there

Mido Torao: But I’m the third oldest here, right?

Momo: Yeah!

Mido Torao: It feels kind of peaceful...

Nanase Riku: Ahaha! You sound like Yamato-san! Even though he’s the oldest, he wants to be pampered quite often!

Yaotome Gaku: Is that so? I don’t see him acting spoiled all that much. How does he act?

Nanase Riku: When he's drunk, he says things like "I dun like this!" (1)

Yaotome Gaku: Seriously!? Does he hold back when he’s drinking with me?

Momo: Yamato, don’t scream when you watch this broadcast, okay? Are you watching right now?

Mido Torao: Is IDOLiSH7 gonna reveal everyone’s truth so carelessly…? It's like a survival game...

Mido Torao: But I'm relieved. So even if you're the oldest, you don't have to act all cool all the time.

Yaotome Gaku: Being natural is the coolest. Ryuu is like that.

Momo: Torao, when you return to ZOOL, you should act like this as a souvenir!

Mido Torao: Well... I was like this at my parents’ house, so I’m not afraid to act like it.

Nanase Riku: Neither am I !

Momo: Momo-chan doesn't resist either~!

Yaotome Gaku: I see, so that side of Nikaido might come out in front of the older Izumi.

Mido Torao: What about Sougo?

Nanase Riku: Sougo-san?

Mido Torao: He’s so clingy when he’s drunk, isn’t he? Not in a bad way, but like a cute clingy, or something?

Nanase Riku: He is!

Mido Torao: He totally is!

Nanase Riku: It's hard to read him, but when he's in a good mood and not sluggish he’ll listen to almost all your requests!

Mido Torao: Why would he be sluggish?

Nanase Riku: Um, so the tea caddy...

Mido Torao: Tea caddy?

Momo: Riku! Let's save that story for when we’re backstage! Okay, last one!

Momo: How about you? What’s the difference between IDOLiSH7 and “TEA take”?

Nanase Riku: Well, when you say it's different, then everything is really different! This is my first time working in a four units group.

Nanase Riku: And because of that, I feel like our song and choreography is unique to us four.

Nanase Riku: When the members of IDOLiSH7 ask me, "How was it?" I’m certain I’ll say, "It was great!”

Nanase Riku: Because I got to work with Momo-san, Yaotome-san, and Mido-san! I wanna brag about how good it felt a whole lot!

Momo: That makes me so happy!

Yaotome Gaku: I’m gonna work hard so that Nanase can brag about me.

Mido Torao: I'll brag too. That I’ve chatted a lot with Re:vale's Momo-san, TRIGGER's Yaotome, and IDOLiSH7's Nanase.

Nanase Riku: Yes! Let's chat a lot and sing a lot!

Momo: That's right!

Momo: Now, did everyone answer? Oh, we asked a lot of questions didn’t we!

Nanase Riku: We did! It was really fun to get everyone’s answers to all kinds of questions!

Yaotome Gaku: I’m glad we had an opportunity like this.

Mido Torao: Yeah. Time flew in the blink of an eye.

Momo: Well then! That's it! The “8th Anniversary! Four Thanks Project”!

Momo: Celebrating the formation of the temporary unit! This was “Ask this and that!?”, “TEA take” edition!

TEA Take: Please drink! TEA take!

Audience: Kyaaaaaaa!

Nanase Riku: Hello, everyone!

Nanase Riku: I'm Nanase Riku from TEA take!

Audience: Kyaaaaaaa!

Yaotome Gaku: TEA take, Yaotome Gaku!

Audience: Kyaaaaaaa!

Mido Torao: TEA take, Mido Torao!

Audience: Kyaaaaaaa!

Momo: TEA take, Momo!

Audience: Kyaaaaaaa!

Nanase Riku: Thank you for participating in the “8th Anniversary! Four Thanks Project” campaign!

Yaotome Gaku: To the 1000 winners selected by lottery!

Mido Torao: And to the special ones here with us!

Momo: Let’s start the “Miracle Limited-Time 4 Unit Thanks Live”!

Audience: Kyaaaaaaa!

Nanase Riku: Now, please listen to our unit song, which is also the CM song for 'TEA take'!

Nanase Riku: Ready...!

TEA Take: “Take my rose”!

The end.

1- in like a spoiled brat tone, he says “嫌だニャ” (iyada nya) instead of “嫌だな” (iyada na) so he’s basically meowing while drunk.

#idolish7 #i7 #idolish7 translation #nanase riku #gaku yaotome #momo re:vale #sunohara momose #mido torao #TEA take #ainana #idolish7 shuffle unit

283 notes · View notes

jeding-png · 5 months

Text

Chapter 146! Yay!

This is Callisto's face, when his flirtatious, "I can't come and visit my fiance's home whenever I want?" and Penelope asked in response which of her brothers he was engaged to.

Don't worry bro, I changed this image to cheer you up a bit!..

But you just compare the face of Callisto in the previous chapter and the new one. It's a little heartbreaking to actually know where their conversation is headed next.

Finally, I will say that this chapter seemed to me bigger than the usual ones, and I missed the style of SUOL-nim's drawing.... we wish her good health, strength, and hard work!

#villains are destined to die #death is the only ending for a villainess #death is the only ending for the villainess #death is the only ending for the villain #manhwa #vadd #vadtd #vadd spoilers #vadd new chapter #ditoeftv #penelope eckhart #callisto regulus #penelope x callisto #callisto x penelope #calliope our beloved #calliope otp #penelope eckhart x callisto regulus

120 notes · View notes

pimosworld · 7 months

Note

💌

Congratulations on 700 followers, yay!! And what a way to celebrate with the things you're offering!

I simply can't just *not* ask you... brat tamer Santiago Garcia, if you happen to be inspired?

Pairing- Santiago Garcia x F! Reader

Summary- You push your boyfriend just a little too far with your teasing

CW-18+, NSFW, MDNI, Brat tamer Santi, Sub reader, slight voyeurism, Overstimulation, Breath play, Rough sex, Safe word established, Use of restraints, gagging, Dacryphilia, Pet names, Unprotected PIV, Cream Pie, Aftercare

WK- 3.6K ( Drabble..who said this was a Drabble?)

A/N- This was the first ask in my follower celebration and I’ve wanted to put my all into it. Santi is so intimidating and I love writing for him.

Not beta read

Some inspiration before you read if you’re feeling so inclined. ( Santiago)

[Main Masterlist][Triple Frontier]

Cupid’s arrow

It started off innocently enough

Text image

Santi:Baby you’re killing me

Just wanted to give you a Valentines preview

It was boredom that often got you in trouble with Santiago. He said you had a knack for testing his Will power. A constant push and pull between being good and watching the moment he decides he’s had enough of your behavior.

The problem here lies that you can’t see his face via text. There was no way of knowing when the flip switched from innocent to a lesson in never pushing Santiago’s buttons.

Text image

Santi:I’m serious I’m trying to work here cariño

Fine…tell Frankie I said hi

It really was his fault…he left you to your own devices for an entire day. Of course you went shopping and saw the lacy red set that you know would drive him wild. The woman who helped you out convinced you to get a few more things and also another set in pink. But then you saw the black silk teddy with the red trim and you knew you just had to have that one.

A full photo shoot in the floor length mirror in your shared bedroom had you occupied for a little longer. And now you find yourself growing impatient as the time ticks on.

“Pope, my dog can hold a flashlight better than you.” Frankie’s muffled voice comes from under the sink as Santi discards his phone on the counter.

“Relajate hermano.” Santi’s annoyance oozed from his tone, mostly irritated at his lack of preparedness for what was supposed to be a simple ‘in fish’s words’ fix to his leaky sink.

One hour turned into four and it seemed like they had made way too many trips to the hardware store. This was clearly not going to be a quick fix and Frankie should’ve hired a plumber like he said. He knew Frankie was too stubborn for that, the pilot could fix mostly anything on his own and that sometimes led to an air of too much confidence.

Frankie leans back on his heels wiping the sweat from his brow with his shirt, the backwards standard oil cap on his head a shade darker around the rim because the man is too cheap to turn on the ac.

“Your dick hard from holding that flashlight or were you staring at my ass.” Frankie chides and Santi’s flipping him off before the words even leave his mouth.

Santi can’t help the way his body reacts to you. Which is why he desperately needed you to stop sending him those photos. He could be home with you right now, undressing you piece by piece. His face buried between your thighs as he pulled countless orgasms from you until you were begging him to stop. In reality he was going to do that anyway but he’s not going to be so nice about it now that you’ve decided to be a grade A pain in his ass.

You couldn’t possibly know that he’s at his wits end between Frankie’s constant ribbing and his one too many mentions of you. He appreciated that his friend cared about his love life but Santi knew how he really felt. The too long looks at you swimming at Wills in your bikini, the hugs that lasted longer than he’d felt comfortable with but wouldn’t dare say anything to Frankie. The way you genuinely laughed at his awful jokes when you were all hanging out at the bar.

“Let me take a look, I think your eyes need a break.” Santi bumps him out of the way with his foot.

“Oh you’re an expert plumber now, but you can’t even hold a damn flashlight.” Santi shoots him a look as he breathes heavy out of his nose and Frankie concedes taking the flashlight from him.

Santi’s grumbling in a mix of English and Spanish as he takes in the mangled mess of tubes and the puddle of questionable water his arm is sitting in. Santi is suddenly aware of every sore muscle in his body as his back goes rigid. His knees ache and his head is pounding from a lack of food and water. Right now he’s seeing red as he notices the problem they’ve been dealing with all day was quite literally because Frankie had his wires crossed. He's fumbling with the tubing as his phone buzzes in succinction on the counter above him. He thinks you might be calling him but it stops after three.

“Everything alright up there Fish?” His tone slightly exasperated as he’s plunged into darkness. Evidently neither of them know how to hold a flashlight properly.

“You are one lucky son of a bitch.”

“What!?” He groans after a loud thud that was his head hitting the underside of the sink reverberates through his body.

Frankie’s scrolling on Santi’s phone with a perverted look plastered on his face. He’s leaning against the counter completely unaware or unconcerned that Santi is staring daggers at him.

Santi snatches his phone hastily. “Get a good look?” Frankie clearly can’t read the room as he chuckles at him and this is the closest he’s been to getting punched since basic training.

“I didn’t see much.” The lie is clear as day on his face as Santi crosses his arms. “I just don’t know how you could be here with me while you’ve got that at home.” Frankie crosses his arms almost mimicking Santi and an unfamiliar noise leaves his mouth. Santi probably resembles a fire breathing dragon more than a human at this moment.

“You’re right Frank.” He clenches and unclenches his fist. “I don’t know why I’m here.” He wonders now if Frankie was in on it with you and some elaborate plan to push him to the brink of his resolve. He wouldn’t put it past either of you, always vying for who can win the award for the first place pain in the ass. Unlucky for you and lucky for Frankie that his displaced aggression now has a direction.

Santi leaves the kitchen without another word, slamming the front door a little harder than he meant but not feeling too bad about it. He’s bounding toward his Jeep with his phone clutched in his hand and a painful bulge in his jeans. He decides not to leave Frankie entirely in the dark and also not wanting to have the day be a total waste.

I fixed the problem

🐈🐠: Gracias hermano te aprecio

Santi puts the car in reverse and starts the slow roll down the driveway. His phone buzzes next to him on the seat and he aggressively puts it back in park to check.

🐈🐠: Tell her to wear the red one 🥵

Since when did his old ass figure out how to use emojis? Santi pulls up the messages he forgot you sent him. The ones Fish saw. The sweat trickles down his back as he takes in the compromising positions you’re in. One hand clutching your breast, another hand dipping beneath the deep red fabric. You’re only saving grace is that he can’t actually see that spot between your legs. The spot he knows is soaked and if Frankie had seen he’d never live it down. They’d have to share you at that point and Frankie would be none too pleased with himself.

Santi: Be in the bed with the red one on

You were starting to get worried when you sent those last three images. You hadn’t heard from him and your anxiety was getting the best of you. You knew you were constantly pushing the limits of how far you could take him, with all the trust in your relationship you assumed at this point Santiago was limitless. Sending a few racy texts was nothing compared to making him come in his pants while you palmed him under the table at your last hang out with the guys. Your punishment was relatively mild when he yanked you into the bathroom and made you clean up the evidence.

Can’t wait to see you baby 🥰

You're waiting…patiently now after you’ve changed into the one that you knew would drive him crazy.

He’s driving, barely obeying the traffic laws as he white knuckles the steering wheel. He’d already picked out your tombstone when you sent the first photo.

Here lies my Beloved baby girl- impatient, petulant, brat until the very end

****

He knows he needs to shower first, so you’ll just have to wait a little longer. He hopes for your sake you’re in the bed like he asked. You had the expert ability to do the opposite of what he wanted at every turn.

The sun is just starting to set when he enters your shared home. He can smell his favorite scent wafting through the air of one of those ridiculous wax melts you had all throughout the house. He would never tell you that he liked it so much but it seems you’ve caught on anyway. He can’t even describe what it is since it’s labeled autumn air, but it reminds him of you.

Had you been a little faster you might have gotten away with it…but he sees a flit of red and your foot just barely making it into the doorway of the bedroom.You’re lying on your stomach when he enters the room doing your best to not look out of breath with that innocent smile on your face.

“You think you’re slick?” You shake your head as he pulls his shirt off, revealing his tan skin. He throws it towards to hamper, missing it completely as he stalks towards you. He takes your jaw between his forefinger and thumb and you tilt your head up for a kiss that never comes. “I asked you a question.” His breath is hot on your face as you search his eyes for a sign of reassurance but you find none.

“I don’t…know what you’re talking about.” Your voice comes out shaky as his grip tightens on your chin. He laughs as an unmerciful look spreads across his face. You’re a mixture of terrified and aroused as you hang there in the balance, unsure of what his next move is.

He lets go of your chin and presses you back with his palm to lay against the headboard. His jaw is clenched and his lips in a tight line as he straddles your hips pinning you down with his jean clad thighs. You reach out to palm the obvious bulge in the front of his pants and he not so gently grabs your wrist. He places a soft kiss to the palm of your hand before bringing it up over your head to rest on the pillow. “That’s the last time you’re gonna act out of line.” His voice a low growl in your ear and you think you may have royally fucked up.

He sits back on his heels, trailing his hands over the soft fabric of your dress. His thumbs graze your nipple and his eyes go wide at the way your body reacts to him. He grips your hips and bunches the fabric to reveal the matching thing soaked with your arousal. If he had fangs he’d draw blood with the way he’s biting down on his lip as his fingers toy with the thin string, pulling it tight between your lips. He’s playing with you now and your antics earlier may have been seriously detrimental to your health and well being.

The material bites into your skin and you wince as he snaps the thin fabric like it’s made of floss. It’s vulgar the way he brings them to his nose inhaling your scent, his eyes roll back and your breath picks up at the carnal display before you.

He sets the torn panties down next to your head before his hands are back on you. “I take it, I bought this?” You nod once and he tsks under his breath.

“Yes.” It’s rushed out and he slaps the side of your thigh as he crowds your space. “I mean yes sir.”

“Good girl…I think it’s been too long since you’ve been taught a lesson.” You gasp as he rips the fabric. “You can’t even remember your manners.” Your gut churns at the voracious tone he’s using. The bold red dress flutters in front of you as he reduces it to shreds. His muscles flex as he pulls it taught, inspecting it to his liking. He leans over you, his soft kiss a stark contrast to his words. All you’ve wanted all day was to touch him, but you keep your hands where they are as his lips devour you. His kiss growing hungrier by the second. He pulls away breathless as he rests his head in the crook of your neck. He rolls his hips instinctively, his lust for you is almost too much. “You just need a little reminder sweetheart.”

He regained some composure as he pulled his weight back. The warmth of his body leaves you and goosebumps raise on your skin. His thumb grazes your bottom lip as he pulls down gently, coaxing your mouth open. He shoves your panties in your mouth and you can taste yourself on your tongue. You breathe deep through your nose as he waits for any sign you need this to stop. His hand grabs your wrist and the shredded fabric bringing it up to the bedpost. He was nothing if not tactical with his movements as he quickly secured both wrists with his perfectly procured gift. He gives a light tug and smirks, seemingly pleased with his work.

You squirm and whine as he swings his legs over your body and exits the bed. The drool starts down your cheek as you soak the fabric in your mouth. “Don’t worry cariño, I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

He opens the bedside drawer and fishes out your small pink vibrator, it’s been so long since you’ve used it you're not even sure it’s charged. He clicks it once and it roars to life…the opposing looks on your faces are almost cartoonish as you groan in anticipation.

He pulls his phone out of the front pocket of his jeans as he leans over dragging the tip through your slit. Not even bothering to look at the mess he’s making. “Let’s see… how many photos did you send baby?” The sarcasm drips off his tongue as he counts each one out loud. He whistles low under his breath. “Five…I’m not sure you can handle a five.” The settings go up to six and you’re praying to whatever god is listening that he has some mercy.

You keen as it breaches your entrance almost out of breath on the first setting. He clicks it twice more and snickers at your muffled cries. “I’m gonna shower okay sweetheart. You stay right there and don’t move.” He clinks his belt and pulls down his pants before heading towards the en-suite bathroom. He sends you one last salacious look as he palms himself over his boxers. You writhe as he turns his back to you, no doubt grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

****

You want to call him every name in the book besides his god given one as you breathe through your second climax. Your legs are shaking and you wish your pussy would go numb to the constant vibrating sensation wracking your body. You tried to crawl away from it to no avail, you clenched your thighs together hoping that would give you some relief and accidentally bumped it up a notch.

Your back arches off the bed as your wrists tug at the restraints, the new angle has it hitting that spot deep inside you as you bite down hard on the soaked fabric in your mouth. You’re almost grateful for it and you think he must know what he’s doing because you’d surely have cracked a molar at this point.

He’s humming some incessant tune as the water shuts off and you try and focus on your breathing knowing it’s almost over.

He exits the bathroom, steam emanating off his sturdy body. He used a towel to run through his thick hair not covering the hefty cock dangling between his thighs. He saunters over taking his sweet ass time, slowly pulling the vibrator from your soaked folds. A lewd sound comes out of you as he pulls the fabric from your mouth. He straddles your chest this time, careful to keep his weight off you as his cock sits heavy between your breasts. You know he’s doing it on purpose, as he unties your sore wrists. He knows how much you love sucking his cock that hangs inches from your face, but you wouldn’t dare do anything now without permission. You breath out heavily, mouth watering at the sight of him as he looks down upon you. His cock jumps at the temperature change and you know that he knows what you’re doing. Quite possibly the only thing you can do in your current predicament.

“You did so good for me cariño.” He slides down your body, trailing precum along your sweat soaked skin. He wipes the drool from your mouth with his hand and purses your lips in his grasp. “But we’re not done yet.”

“Santi please…I'm sorry.” You’re reduced to begging, something he rarely denied.

“I gave you a chance to be sorry.” He wipes a stray tear that rolls down your cheek and for a brief moment he feels bad. You were just trying to show off for him after all. The shredded reminder of your little outfit is all the motivation he needs to finish what he started.

You rub your sore wrists and stretch your limbs as he grabs his phone from the bedside table. You get a nice look of his pert ass as he walks to the opposing lounge chair in your bedroom and props the phone up to his liking.

“Hands and knees baby.” He’ll always love the way you quickly obey as he works his hand over his cock and climbs in the bed behind you. He’s sure you’ve learned your lesson but now he wanted to have some fun and you were being so good.

He soothes you with his other hand as he watches your shaky breaths from behind. Your ass wiggles a little as you try to get comfortable. He can see the arousal dripping down your thighs as he drags the tip through your soaked folds. “I can’t see your face baby, so keep your eyes open.”

“Yes sir.”

“That’s my girl.” He pushes in as he grips your hips, starting a brutal pace. You’re so worked up from before as he drags in and out of your walls. Grunting behind you as the lewd sounds of the slap of skin echo in the room. He’s been so keyed up all day he knows he’s not going to last long and the way your pussy squeezes him so tight with every thrust he needs to feel you come before he loses all control. The chants of his name are like music to his ears as you grip the sheets below you, but it’s not good enough.

He wraps his arm around your chest bringing his hand to your throat as he breathes heavily into your ear. A sharp intake of breath as he squeezes slightly. “Your eyes open baby?” All you can do is nod and you hope that’s good enough. He releases it gripping your jaw to look at the camera while fucks relentlessly into you. “Whose fucking you like this…hmm.”

“You Santi.” Your voice cracks as you grasp at his arms to stay upright. He moans into your ear as you grip him tight. His breath on your neck tickles and you both chuckle slightly. A sighting of your Santi sprinkled into your intense moments.

“You tell him who you belong to.” Who? You whine as your body shakes, you’re just at the edge of the cliff all you need is that little push. He grips your hair with one hand bringing the other to rub your clit. “You know who.” He says through gritted teeth.

“I don’t I swear.” You sob, tears of ecstasy roll down your face as your fingers dig into his forearm.

“Frankie.” He growls in your ear as you fall apart in his arms. He follows you over the edge quickly after, much to your relief at the prospect of reaching your climax at the mention of his best friend.

It takes you both a moment to catch your breath, just basking in the afterglow. He kisses your shoulder asking if you’re okay. Turning your face to his when you don’t answer immediately, searching your face for any sign of discomfort. “I’m okay baby, I promise.” You sigh as he releases you, your tired body falling into the soft sheets below you.

He rubs your back for a moment before rolling out of bed to the bathroom. You have no idea what time it is, with the sun setting so early it could be six or nine and in the excitement of the day you didn’t eat or drink as much as you should have. Santi returns with a washcloth, wiping your face first and down your chest. He gently wipes both thighs and you shiver as he brushes the towel over that overworked spot between your legs. “I know it’s cold, I’m sorry.” His voice is low and calming like he’s approaching a frightened animal. The vulnerable and sweet Santi that you know and love talking you through the aftershocks.

He heads to the chair in the corner retrieving the phone you’d all but forgotten, sliding it in front of your face on the mattress.

“Why don’t you hit send for me cariño.”

🐈🐠: Message loading

Here lies my Beloved baby girl- impatient, petulant, brat until the very end

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Taglist- @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot @goaways-stuff @criticalarchitecture @pedrit0-pascalit0 @charethcutestory02 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

#triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #brat tamer santi #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia smut #triple frontier fic #pimosfollowercelebration #valentines celebration #valentinesparty #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales x santiago garcia

163 notes · View notes

lauraneedstochill · 2 years

Text

I won’t fall for someone who can’t misbehave

summary: Aemond is betrothed to the sweetest girl in the Seven Kingdoms. She is smiley, soft and kind-hearted. Until she isn’t. (or, alternatively: “No one took your side when you were a kid. But I’m doing it now.”) pairing: Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader (her House is not specified) words: 9000 +

warnings: slow (!) burn, attempted harassment, Aemond is in pain 70% of the time (headache and all that) and has no clue how to act around someone he’s in love with. author's note: I’m working on 3 fics at the moment, and it’s taking forever to finish (yay for my poor time management skills!), so I whipped up something short(er). Rhaenyra is the queen here but I barely mention the blacks (not out of spite, I just thought it wouldn’t add anything to the story). also, I don’t think women would be allowed to misbehave like that... I don’t care ;)

Aemond knew of the preplanned betrothal even though everyone around him was ridiculously mysterious about the subject matter. He’s been made aware of the upcoming visit of some noble family, and the preparations were quite extensive. Then he overheard Baela telling Jace that the expected guests will bring their daughter. The middle one. It wasn’t very hard for Aemond to put two and two together. His wedding was long overdue, and Alicent was eager for him to make his choice. But he dreaded the mere thought of it.

Aemond’s never been very good at courting women, but mostly due to the lack of trying. He’s used to them looking at him with fear and suspicion as if he’s some kind of wild animal ready to attack at any minute. Getting sidelong glances did hurt him growing up, but with time Aemond learned to benefit from it, using his fearsome image as a shield. No one ever dared to try and break it to see what was underneath. But now he is faced with the inevitable change that’s approaching his life at the speed of a storm wave. To him, taking off the eyepatch won’t be nearly as excruciating as giving into the vulnerability of letting someone in, opening up to someone. He’s never been afraid of much but that? That was terrifying.

The anticipation made Aemond nervous. He knew he should probably ask around and try to gain any information about his soon-to-be wife, but it felt wrong. Not knowing felt even worse. No matter how good of a fighter he was, fighting the uncertainty seemed like a challenge. Aemond spent his nights tossing and turning, wrapped up in blankets as insomnia was clinging to his body. He tried to busy himself with training, but his usual easy victories brought him no satisfaction. He’s been winning for so long maybe it was time for him to lose. Except not to his training partners but to a stranger, who in time will get a permanent place in his life.

His rides with Vhagar, which usually brought him peace, now had the opposite effect. The old dragon acted annoyed and disgruntled for no reason, huffing and grumbling at every turn as if she could sense his own frustration. You can’t tame your emotions yet I’m supposed to listen to your commands? Silly boy. If Vhagar could speak, she would probably tell him that, Aemond thought. And he blamed himself even more.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, the headache came back. As usual, it started with a feeling of pounding heaviness in the back of his head, which then spread further: into his temples, forehead and down the hateful scar. Within a couple of days, the pain gets so bad, he has to grit his teeth to keep a straight face, and he's barely able to shove a few bits of food down his throat. But it’s a topic he never brings up, it’s a humiliating secret that’s just between him and his mother. When he lost his eye, for the first month the pain was close to unbearable. The maester kept telling him that it was caused by the healing of skin tissues and assured that the intolerable feeling would go away. It never did. His scar was something he learned to cover up, and the bright red stripe faded slightly with time, but the pain lingered. Aemond opted to think that it only contributed to him becoming more resilient, yet that argument didn’t withstand the test of time. The pain receded for some short periods, but then it would always come back, and he could never get used to that, no matter how hard he tried.

He can only hope it will get better by the time the guests arrive. But the gods seem deaf to his prayers, and the night before the event he doesn’t get a wink of sleep. He goes through his day in a daze, skipping the training session to hide in the library instead, although he can’t bring himself to focus and read more than a single page. When the time comes for him to walk into the dining hall, it’s the last thing he wants to do but he forces himself to go. Festive ornaments, tables laden with the finest dishes, bright-colored clothing of everyone around him blend and blur into each other. He takes deep breaths and counts his steps, gathering all his strength to sit down and not wince at the movement.

All it takes is one look at him for Alicent to understand what’s going on.

“Aemond,” she approaches him, whispering. “What’s wrong? Is it the headache again?”

Aemond doesn’t want to admit it, but he lacks the energy to deny it either so he just nods. She gives him a regretful look, gently squeezing his shoulder.

“Should I call for the maester? Maybe he will be able to come up with something to ease the pain.”

“I don’t think we have time to fuss over me,” he declines with a pain-stained voice. “I was under the impression that we’re expecting someone to join us today.”

Alicent sighs. She knows better than to fight his stubbornness, but she hates how helpless it makes her feel. Aemond hates that feeling, too.

“Please don’t tell me you require motivation,” Aegon’s voice is loud as it is but right now it sounds deafening, and Aemond sharply exhales. His brother flops on a nearby chair, bringing his ignorant attitude with him.

“Undoubtedly you’ve interacted with women before,” he chuckles, completely unaware of Aemond’s suffering. “Try not to scare her with your creepy stare, and maybe she won’t run away.”

Alicent briefly closes her eyes in annoyance. She glances around, making sure not to attract any attention, and then grabs Aegon by the chin, forcing him to look at her.

“Enough with pestering, I need you to behave yourself,” her voice is tinged with irritation. “Just for one evening. Can you do that?”

Aegon’s body stiffens up, the smug look disappearing from his face.

“As you wish, mother,” he mutters, and she lets go of him. Alicent shoots another glance at Aemond before leaving. Aegon gives his brother a side-eye but says nothing.

Aemond is exhausted, anxiety bubbling in his chest, and he thinks he has a few more minutes to compose himself yet that time passes in the blink of an eye. Before he knows it, the guards at the door make the announcement, and he sees a group of unfamiliar faces. None of them are of his age, though, and for a moment that realization brings him some comfort. But then he notices a female figure in the distance as she’s approaching the entrance.

When she walks in, the music goes quiet, and Aemond hears people gasping. It seems like every man in the room has his gaze on her. And she certainly is a sight for sore eyes. She moves with a gracious pace, the silky fabric of her dress flowing downward with every step. It’s not too revealing, but it hugs her body in all the right places. Her hair is up, and he can see the waves of her collarbones peaking through. A half-smile is plastered on her face, but she doesn’t seem to be nervous. If he was to take a guess, he would've said she was tired. But she won’t let it show, keeping her head high and being seemingly unaware of the attention she got. Maybe she’s used to it just like he is, Aemond thinks. Although people usually glare at him for a completely different reason.

“Someone is about to get a piece of cake,” Aegon elbows him lightly, his voice low.

“Someone needs to shut up,” Aemond snarls, earning a laugh from his brother. That catches her attention, and her gaze lands on Aemond. When their eyes meet, her face softens, smile growing wider. He tries his best to force a wan smile in return, but his stomach turns in discomfort. He can already imagine how people will react: a stunning woman like her with a man like him, what a tragedy. That thought stings, his anxiety growing stronger. The headache gets worse, and he tightens his grip on a cup of wine that he hasn’t even tasted yet. Aemond can’t help but wonder if she knew she would have to marry him. If it does bother her as much as it bothers him.

The members of her family are greeted as guests, with no mention of a possible betrothal. Her name is the only one he catches — and then silently repeats it a few times. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, the sound of it breaking through his clouded mind. She’s seated next to him, as expected, and he notes that her dress compliments her eye color. Aemond is thinking of a way to start a conversation, but she beats him to it:

“You gave us such a warm welcome, but I must admit, I am surprised by the scale of it. I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience?”

When her words reach his ears, the buzzing in his head stops, and Aemond turns to her, astonished by his own reaction. It’s not the naivety of her question, nor the friendly tone of it. It’s just her voice. Melodic and mellow, it feels soothing among the loud noises they’re surrounded with.

“I assure you, your family was simply welcomed with the respect you deserve,” he answers pensively. His throat is sore, but he can’t steel himself to take a sip of wine, afraid that it will make him sick. He wants her to speak again.

Aemond asks about her family, letting her lead the conversation. She is easy to talk to and she gives just the right amount of information before jumping to another topic. At any other time, he would’ve really enjoyed the flow of it, yet now he is growing weary. The headache is still there, but her voice does bring him some relief. That is until she abruptly stops.

“Are you feeling alright?” she sounds worried, and the same emotion is written on her face. Aemond tries to blink away his exhaustion.

“I apologize if I’m not exactly the best at keeping you company. It’s been a long day,” he knows he should’ve come up with a better excuse. He feels like he can hardly function at this point.

She keeps her attention on him for a few more seconds. Then she moves her eyes to the other end of the table, where her family is seated. She makes eye contact with her father and gives him a big yawn. It’s obviously and comically fake but it works: her family finds an excuse to leave earlier. Aemond knows that now he also got a chance to escape soon after. He feels a pang of guilt knowing that he’s the reason their conversation was cut short, but she doesn’t make a big deal out of it.

“We shall continue on the morrow when we are both well rested,” she smiles reassuringly at him before leaving.

Aemond seriously doubts that he’ll get any rest as his head feels like it’s gripped in an iron vise again. The next morning he drags himself out of bed later than usual, the pain now dull but present nonetheless. He sits with his face in his hands, breathing in and out, until he’s almost numb. The almost leaves a sour feeling in his mouth — or maybe it’s the nausea, he doesn’t know nor does he care. He’s been handling this for years, he can survive another day.

Aemond decides that since he is to be wed, he should make an effort for it to work. He thinks about his duty, his mother, about Y/N, who traveled all the way to King’s Landing for a man she’s never met before. Aemond thinks of everyone but himself because there’s only so much he can do without draining himself completely.

He missed the breakfast already but hopes to find Y/N within the perimeter of the castle and rushes out of the bedroom. He’s passing by Helaena’s chambers when he hears someone laughing. And it’s not his sister. Aemond debates if he can deal with kids right now, but chooses to give it a chance and quietly walks in. Helaena has embroidery in her hands but seems more focused on a sight in front of her, and he follows her gaze. Y/N is sitting on the floor with her back to the door, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are on either side of her, their cheeks plump and pink, tiny fingers grabbing her dress. She’s reading to them, and it’s a tale they’ve heard many times before, yet the kids are listening attentively, occasionally making noises of excitement. Aemond doesn’t need to speak gibberish to know that they are fascinated by the melody of her voice and the playful tone she uses to make the story more engaging. He leans on the door frame, his body relaxing at the sound. Jaehaera puts her head on Y/N’s shoulder and eagerly turns the page, making her laugh again.

“You are an impatient little thing,” Y/N giggles.

“That she is,” Helaena agrees, and when Y/N turns to her, she is surprised to see that Aemond joined them.

“Pardon me, I didn’t hear you coming in,” she stands up in a hurry, both kids are instantly glued to her. “Your sister was kind enough to keep me company.”

“I asked her to come by after breakfast, and they haven’t left her side ever since,” Helaena explains, sounding very pleased.

“Would you mind if I steal this new friend of yours?” Aemond asks while keeping his eye on Y/N, waiting for her reaction. Her face flushes but he sees no indication of discontent. Aemond grudgingly admits to himself that it brings him something akin to joy. But it fades, absorbed by his numbness.

“Make sure to be on time for dinner,” his sister nods, calling for the nanny to take the kids.

It takes a little bit of persuasion but eventually Jaehaerys and Jaehaera let Y/N go, and she follows Aemond out of the room. She mentions that Helaena wanted to show her the library, and Aemond agrees to take her there. Along the way, he strikes up a conversation in attempt to compensate for their last one. As she’s telling him about her morning, her voice seeps into his mind like honey, and Aemond tries to concentrate to take the right turns and not trip on the stairs.

When they walk into the library, she pauses, looking around in awe. This woman makes men turn around after her, yet she is so easily impressed by the simplest things, Aemond thinks. The prince wonders if she can ever be impressed by him.

“This is where you study?” she is admiring endless rows of shelves, and Aemond gives her an affirmative “hmm”.

“How many of these have you read?”

“Quiet a few,” he is modest as ever, and she shoots him a curious look.

“I wonder what are your preferred subjects.”

“History and philosophy,” he doesn’t mean to sound so terse, but whatever interactions with women he’s had before, that experience obviously didn't turn him into a lady’s man.

“Would you be so kind to share your favorite books with me?” when she glances at him, there is a sparkle in her eyes. It looks like she’s actually interested to know more, as if she does want to know him. His immediate response, however, is to distance himself, and he takes a step back.

“I am afraid there are not enough hours in the day to name them all,” Aemond opposes, hands clasped behind his back.

“Please, take pity on me, I need something to help me pass the time,” she presses the matter further but does so very gently. “Name just a couple.”

He gives into her pleading tone and reluctantly agrees but they don’t stop at just a couple. They end up spending the day roaming in the library, lost in the labyrinth of shelves and books. She’s never too pushy with her questions, she’s making small jokes, she doesn't take offense at his cold demeanor. Behind his mask of feigned indifference, Aemond feels like someone is hammering at his left temple, and the pain echoes through his whole body. But he doesn’t dare to leave her hanging for the second day in a row.

The prince is too preoccupied with his internal struggle to notice that she's growing worried about him again, and by the time they come back for dinner, her face expresses an alarming concern.

“I must apologize if I tired you out with my relentless chatting,” she says, almost whispering, when they are seated.

“You did not, no need to fret,” Aemond states. I must apologize that you are to marry a man who can’t curb the pain that’s spilling out of him, he thinks.

Food is tasteless in his mouth. She is sitting on his right, and Aemond’s body can’t adjust to the foreign feeling of someone being in his close proximity. He is so accustomed to being on his own, he doesn't know how to unlearn that.

Throughout the whole dinner, Aemond can feel his mother’s gaze on him. Later that evening, when a maid brings him a cup filled with the milk of the poppy, he decides against taking it. He regrets it the very next day.

When Aemond tries to lift his head off the pillow, he feels like his skull is full of rocks. They’re rolling from side to side as the pain rumbles, and for a few minutes he can't hear anything else around him. That’s why, when Aemond opens his eye, he’s startled at the sight of his mother standing in the doorway.

“I did knock but got no response,” she gives him a look that’s a mix of concern and suspicion. She suspects that he’s unwell again and it concerns her. He wishes she never knew of that burden of his.

Aemond moves up in his bed, clenching his jaw. He knows his mother well enough to realize she must’ve had a reason for this early visit. Alicent proves him right when she speaks.

“The queen went into labor a couple of hours ago.”

He absentmindedly hums, not knowing how to react. His mother continues, with a hint of hesitance.

“There will be a feast when the baby is born. We thought... Rhaenyra and I, we thought it would also make for an occasion to do the announcement. About your betrothal.”

Her words come as no surprise to Aemond. It is what’s expected of him, it’s about his duty and his responsibilities, but this time he doesn’t want to think of that. He wants to be left alone, to drown in the layers of blankets, to go back to his short-lived slumber.

“The day Y/N arrived, I asked the queen to postpone the announcement. To give you some time to get to know each other,” Alicent takes a few steps towards his bed. “It seems like you’re getting along quite well?”

“I could think of no better woman than her,” Aemond admits and it is true. What he doesn’t say is that he can also think of a dozen other men who would be more deserving of her, more than he is.

Alicent catches the discreet sadness in his words but doesn’t know what caused it. She eyes her son with undisguised empathy.

“Her father implied that she is content with the betrothal, too. I thought you’d be happy to know,” Alicent gives him a lax smile. “I shall let you go back to sleep,” she adds and leaves.

Aemond knows he’ll get no sleep now. He repeats the well-known routine of deep breaths with the minimum movements, scraping up the remains of his strength before leaving the room. He goes straight to Y/N’s chambers, wondering if his mother visited her, too, and how that visit went.

To his surprise, she is nowhere to be found. A maid informs him that she left the room a few hours ago. He can’t find her in the library and she isn’t in Helaena’s chambers, either. He searches for her in the courtyard and then goes back to roam through the corridors, peering into every room on his way. He’s lost in his thoughts until he hears Y/N calling his name. Aemond turns around — and there she is, at the other end of the hall.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she skips towards the prince, beaming. He could never imagine anyone being this happy at the sight of him. She stops when they are only a couple of meters apart, her smile glowing.

“We must’ve passed each other, because I’ve been looking for you, too,” he confesses. She seems very pleased with herself though he isn’t sure why.

“I think the weather calls for a walk,” she blithely suggests. “Would you like to accompany me?” — as the words leave her mouth, she reaches out a hand to him. For a moment Aemond is looking at her baffled, and then hesitantly takes her hand. Her skin is soft, fingers warm, and she intertwines them with his own. That gesture comes so naturally as if they’ve done it before, yet Aemond clearly hasn’t. The feeling of holding someone’s hand is unusual to him. But it seems enjoyable.

By the time they get to the garden, Aemond finds that her hand fits perfectly in his. He is blushing profusely. He also notices that his headache receded a little and he can’t help but think that she was the reason for that.

“Your mother came to me this morning,” she informs him as they are walking hand in hand. “I assume she talked to you, too?”

“She did,” Aemond confirms. “Am I right to guess we had the same conversation?”

“Well, mine was about uniting two great Houses,” she mimics a man’s voice, and Aemond grasps that Otto was there as well. “Your grandfather gave a very convincing speech.”

“He had a lot of practice while being the Hand of the King. Maybe he misses having an audience,” the prince chuckles and she laughs.

Aemond holds a pause and then adds. “Forgive me if I’m being too blunt but I wonder if the conversation was of unpleasant nature to you.”

“It was not,” she slows her steps. “I know what’s expected of me and I will perform my duty. But if I’m being honest...,” she turns to him, and the tenderness of her gaze tugs at his heart. “I am glad that it’s you,” Aemond feels a flare of an unknown emotion deep in his chest. “We’ll make a pretty good team. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Aemond lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He looks down at their hands and then back at her.

“It seems so,” he tells her, a slight smile in the corner of his lips. There is a moment of comfortable silence as they make a short stop in the shade of the trees.

“But I shall give you a warning,” she says with a mischievous grin. “My siblings take any celebration very seriously. Every single relative of ours will come to the wedding, and most of them won’t shy away from enjoying a cup of wine... Or two.”

“Can any of them outdrink Aegon?” he jokes, and she bursts into laughter.

Aemond gets carried away by their conversation once again, losing track of time. While she’s listing her relatives, adding innocuous remarks about each of them, the prince is enthralled by the warmth that radiates off her. Her presence alone calms the storm of his insecurities, lulling his fears to sleep. She does that so effortlessly, it’s almost intimidating. But there’s a certain thrill to it, too — the thrill of being close to her, sharing laughs and stories, and Aemond clings to that feeling.

He enjoys the moment while it lasts; until his headache predictably creeps up on him a few hours later. He can’t tell if she senses that something is wrong but she’s the one to suggest returning to the castle. Aemond gladly accepts it.

On the way back they are greeted by one of the guards who notifies them that the queen gave birth to a girl. She lightly squeezes Aemond’s hand.

“Tomorrow is a big day then,” — and the prince knows exactly what she means. The fragile bond that they only started to get the hang of will soon become public knowledge. It won’t be their secret anymore but rather an over-discussed gossip.

“There is still time for you to plan an escape,” Aemond jests half-heartedly.

She looks puzzled for a second, but then shakes her head.

“Only if you’re planning one. We are in this together, remember?” her thumb brushes over his. “It’s all about teamwork.”

Aemond savors the last fleeting minutes of their day. He barely touches the food at dinner, the pain in his head intensifying but he pushes through. When the time comes for them to part, he doesn’t want to. That feeling is alien to him and the prince is clueless about its nature. But he knows that with her any misery will be bearable.

When Aemond walks into his chambers, he notices a little jar on the bed table. It’s the one that the maester used to bring him the ointments in, and the prince sighs. The maester doesn’t grasp the extent of the problem but occasionally would suggest a thing or two to help with the pain. They’ve tried using cold packs, then the warm ones, tried massaging his temples, then drinking cinnamon tea, then adding some ginger that’s known as a remedy for reducing inflammation... Nothing has worked so far.

But he should make an effort.

Aemond barely glances inside the jar and tosses away a piece of paper with the instructions scribbled on it. The prince already knows it all too well: he applies a thick layer of whatever that concoction is on his scar, involuntarily wincing at the cooling sensation. It smells of herbs and feels oily but absorbs into the skin pretty fast.

For some reason, his mind goes back to his mother’s words — “I thought you'd be happy to know.” Aemond is unsure what happiness means. The happiest day of his life is forever chained with the worst one, smeared with blood and pain that he's been carrying through the years.

But now that he met Y/N, he questions if there’s more to life than what he's been through so far.

While he is laying in bed, Aemond wonders if can consider her his friend. If she will ever be more than just a friend to him.

And then, before he knows it, the prince is fast asleep. He wakes up feeling like a new man. At first, he mistakes that feeling for the remnants of his dreams that he was enveloped with at night. He shakes off his drowsiness and looks at the ceiling, catching a glint of sunlight that seeped through the curtains. That's when Aemond realizes that the pain is gone.

He sits up, bewildered, waiting for any sign of discomfort yet nothing happens. He waits for a couple of minutes — and then for up to thirty, but his head is clear and doesn’t ache at all. His eye shifts to the jar on the bed table, and Aemond makes a note to extend his gratitude to the maester later. Suddenly the upcoming festivities don't seem so torturous anymore.

He doesn’t get a chance to see her throughout the day as everyone is preparing for the feast. When Aemond walks into the hall of the Iron Throne, he takes in the decorated surroundings. Unlike the last time he was here, now he wants to remember every detail, knowing that this evening would be of great importance.

The room fills with people, but Aemond patiently waits for her alone. He spots her the second she steps in. Her dress is violet, the material bright and luminous, and it puts her into the spotlight yet again since she's the only one wearing that color. As soon as she takes her place at the table next to Aemond, her hand finds his. He's getting used to that way too fast. It’s hard not to.

The first round of toasts goes to honor Visenya, the newborn daughter of the Queen. Rhaenyra willingly tolerates the sweet talk, generous with her smiles and appreciation. At some point, when the timing seems right or maybe when her cheeks are already aching, she gives a nod to Alicent, and Aemond knows what it means. As she starts her speech, he ruefully releases Y/N’s hand.

But right when they are standing up, with everyone around cheering and staring, she lightly presses her body against his, and Aemond feels how tense her back is. That’s when it dawns on him that she’s well aware of the attention but she doesn’t really like it. Instinctively, he puts his fingers on her waist, his touch respectful and delicate. She breathes out and briefly rests the back of her head against his shoulder. For a moment it feels like it’s just the two of them.

That feeling doesn't go away.

Usually, he’s not the one to take part in dancing, but he does so for her. Aemond feels out of practice and he can’t tell if that's what makes his head spin or if he’s getting tipsy from the intimacy of their dance. Her moves are elegant, well-rehearsed, her body follows the rhythm of the music with ease. He doesn’t remember when was the last time that silly activity brought him so much elation. Did it ever?

Time flows by in a blur, and they eventually take a pause after going into a fit of giggles at the sight of Lord Velaryon trying to improvise a move and failing, only to amuse his loving wife. Y/N suggests going out for a while and Aemond is keen on following her but then his mother catches up to them, her hand and her gaze are on him in an instant, pulling him away.

“Aemond, you’ve been dancing,” she can’t hide her bewilderment, a timid smile on her face.

“Should I not? Seems like a suitable occasion,” Aemond chaffs with a tilt of his head.

“It is, indeed,” she doesn’t let him go just yet, and he discerns the hidden meaning of her words, the apprehension she fails to conceal. Aemond wants to grant her some respite, at least for the rest of the day, so he tells her with plain-spoken sincerity:

“I can assure you, this isn’t a cause for your distress.”

But then he quickly finds a cause for his when he doesn’t see Y/N around. He goes searching for her in the crowd, then leaves the room altogether, coming out into the hallway.

Aemond hears her before he sees her — and she isn’t alone. It takes no effort to recognize the second voice, which belongs to no other than Jason Lannister. As the prince rounds the corner, they come into sight, and Aemond has a very bad feeling.

He missed the start of their dialogue, and the look on her face is unreadable. She’s oblivious to Aemond’s presence and he decides to watch them. He tells himself that he’ll never allow her to get into trouble. There is something very tempting in having a chance to save her from anything; as if he feels the need to prove himself to her. He tries not to entertain that thought.

“... It’s not too late to change that, don’t you think,” Ser Lannister purrs, his tone sickly sweet but arrogant.

“It is. Which I have no regrets about, ser,” when she talks to him there's not a hint of friendliness in her voice.

“Your approach may be short-sighted. The proposition of mine wasn’t of a frivolous kind,” he’s circling her, the manner of his movement is borderline predatory.

“I believe you will soon find a lady to welcome your advances but I would very much prefer to drop this conversation,” she recapitulates.

Aemond tenses up, feeling like this is the moment for him to step in. Then he looks at her and realizes that something is off. Her face expression changes — but it’s not a look of fear. By the rising of her chest, he detects that her breathing sped up, eyes are shooting daggers at the man in front of her. She’s looking, for the lack of a better word, positively furious.

But Ser Lannister, apparently, is not very good at reading signs as he comes improperly close to her.

“I can be very persuasive,” his fingers fall on her back — and then go lower. “I think you should appreciate the attention while I’m this generous and...”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. In about two seconds his face is suddenly slammed into the nearby wall, the hand he put on her is now twisted behind his back. Y/N uses her free hand to push right between his shoulder blades, pressing him into the stony surface.

To say that Aemond is shocked would be an understatement.

Right at this moment, she looks like a different person. This side of her he’s not acquainted with but it only adds to her appeal. The change is barely perceptible: she’s still maintaining her posture, keeping up the face of a woman who knows her worth. But Aemond catches a flaming spark of defiance that threatens to shutter her restraint. He can sense her anger from far away despite her doing her best to contain it.

“I do not know what kind of attention you are used to, but you’re forgetting your manners. Next time you dare lay your hand on me, I will not hesitate to break it,” her voice doesn’t lose its usual softness, but now has an added layer to it. It sounds sharper, bolder. It sounds like she’s not afraid of anything.

She lets Ser Lannister go, taking a few steps back and smoothing her dress. He is frozen at first, but then slowly turns to her.

“You didn’t... You did not just do that,” there’s a visible red mark on his cheek that will undoubtedly turn into a bruise.

“Did what, ser?” her tone is laced with coldness.

The man looks at her in disbelief, his face is a parade of emotions — from shock to annoyance to anger.

“You will not get away with this,” he scowls, nettled.

“You are telling me that you’re considering letting everyone know you were overpowered by a woman? Sounds hard to believe,” she seems unfazed.

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he roars:

“You, insidious wre—!”

This time Aemond is the one to interrupt the man. “I suggest you watch your tone when speaking to my betrothed.”

She flinches at his voice, turning to face him, and Aemond slackens his pace a little.

“Shouldn’t she watch hers? She’s talking to a lord,” Ser Lannister exclaims lamely, his arrogance instantly toned down a notch.

“And I see no wrongdoing on her part. Care to explain what got you into this situation?”

“It was a... a simple misunderstanding,” his excuse is so pathetic that it makes the prince sneer.

“And what was the matter in question?” Aemond comes closer to the man which makes ser Lannister evidently uncomfortable. He carefully contemplates his next move.

“I only wanted to extend my congratulations on her betrothal,” the man fakes a smile. “Mayhaps I expressed myself poorly.”

“You should opt to choose your words more wisely next time,” Aemond looks down on him. “Perhaps you are needed somewhere else?”

“I shall rejoin the celebration then,” ser Lannister eagerly agrees and bows out way too quickly.

Aemond can barely wait for the man to get out of sight before turning to her. Even though the prince witnessed the whole thing, he can’t stop himself from asking:

“Did he harm you?”

“He didn’t get a chance,” she mumbles, avoiding his gaze. She looks so embarrassed, he wants to offer her some comfort but isn’t sure how.

"Dare I say we’ve got enough interactions for one evening?" Aemond tries to lighten the mood yet she only offers him a half-hearted smile.

“I will escort you to your chambers,” the prince suggests, and before she can argue he adds, “I know you can stand up for yourself if needed. But I insist.”

She doesn’t move an inch.

“...You are not mad at me?” she’s looking at him with doe-eyed sincerity, clearly upset. Aemond is mad at himself.

“I am thinking about cutting his arm off,” he says under his breath, but she catches it.

“Aemond, there’s no need!” she gasps and he sees a glimpse of a smile on her lips.

“I will have to disagree,” he starts but then she grasps his elbow and Aemond’s hand — finally — clings to her again.

“I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me,” she confesses.

“And I don’t want you to get hurt,” his fingers caress her arm through the lace material. Her cheeks heat up and Aemond finds it adorable.

“I think I... I was the one who did some damage,” she complains.

“You must imagine my surprise,” Aemond drawls, teasing.

“Oh, Gods,” a quiet groan leaves her mouth. “That was not very ladylike of me.”

She covers her face with the other hand, her grip on his arm loosening. Aemond dithers before gently brushing her palm away from her face.

“You did the right thing and you have nothing to be ashamed of,” he enunciates each word. “He only sets an example of unseemly behavior.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t too far off,” she remarks, her voice relenting.

“Hmm, you are certainly not to be truffled with,” he retorts, earning a faint laugh from her as they start walking, arm in arm.

“May I inquire how did you... master that very handy skill?” Aemond ventures to ask. That image of her — brave and unapologetic in her anger — will be forever engraved in his memory. Aemond is apprehensive about voicing his curiosity, uncertain of her reaction but when she answers:

“My father taught me that,” her tone is surprisingly impish.

“And how did you manage to talk him into it?”

“Talking didn’t help much, actually,” she grins. “And then I broke my brother’s nose and my father decided he should find a way to guide my enthusiasm.”

“How old were you?”

“Nine,” she looks so satisfied with herself, Aemond can’t hold back a small laugh.

She joins him and they fall into the comfort of each other’s company. But then her smile wilts.

“There was a time when I was the youngest child and my siblings... They weren’t very nice back then,” she blurts out. Aemond feels his heart sinking.

“What did they do?”

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad, honestly, they were only teasing. It’s just um,” she’s looking for the right words or maybe for an acceptable explanation, but there isn’t any. “It was very tiresome mostly. I could never understand the reason for them being mean.”

Aemond is yet to tell her the story of him losing his eye, and the memory pops back into his head in a flash. He knows exactly what she feels, his own sense of helplessness fresh in his memory. And it still stings the same, and Aemond loathes that.

While he revisits the past, unwillingly slowing his pace, she spots the change in his demeanor within seconds. She sees his facial features congealing, his fingers clenching, and she comes to the only conclusion she can make.

“Is it the headache?” her voice is suddenly quiet, and Aemond comes to an abrupt stop. The question catches him off guard, words stuck in his throat and his mouth agape. He doesn’t know how to react nor does he understand how could she possibly know that.

She is quick to clear up his confusion. “I noticed not long after we met and then your mother confirmed my suspicions. I am sorry that I didn’t ask you directly, I thought... I didn't want to sound intrusive,” she explains coyly.

“By asking about my health?” he finds his voice again. “I am to become your husband, you are free to ask such questions.”

“We’ve only known each other for about a day back then. Surely, you’re allowed to take more time than that to open up to someone,” she kindly points out.

A day. Up until now the only person who’s known about his pain was his mother, and for years no one else ever questioned his well-being. And it took her a day to notice that something was wrong.

“Did the ointment help?” she asks hopefully. For a second he thinks he heard her wrong but the shadow of concern on her face tells him otherwise.

“That was your doing?” he can’t hide his amazement, and it elicits a laugh from her, sonorous and dulcet. Aemond likes the sound of it, he really does.

“I’ve been fortunate to obtain the knowledge required,” she informs him.

“And what kind of witchcraft is it?”

“It is not,” she playfully elbows him. “It was something my grandsire taught me. He used to have an ache of a similar nature. No one could understand the cause of it, and it only got worse with age. But my grandmother refused to sit idly by and one day she found a way to ease his pain,” she has a dreamy expression on her face but it melts into a wistful one. He guesses that both of her grandparents passed away.

“After her death, he wouldn’t let anyone help him. It took me months to persuade him and eventually he let me on her secret,” her smile is bittersweet. “Then he died, and I never thought the recipe would come in handy ever again.”

Aemond hates seeing her wallow in sadness. He puts his palm on top of her hand in an attempt to offer some consolation. If there was a way to free her of that grief, to take at least some of it upon himself, he would’ve done it in a heartbeat. But his touch is enough to bring back the cheerfulness in her voice.

“I should mention that your maester did help, too, although he was reluctant at first,” she reveals.

"And I presume that it also took some convincing?" Aemond thinks of the maester’s face that always looks like he is surrounded by imbeciles.

“I shamelessly boosted his ego,” she wrinkles her nose. “Told him there was no way anyone would ever be as skilled as he is, and that my attempt was merely a gesture of goodwill.”

“But it wasn’t just that,” Aemond cordially protests.

They already reached her chambers but he doesn’t want to let go of her hand. He wants to tell her that meeting her was like taking a breath of fresh air after being held underwater, like finding a source of light in the pitch darkness of the night or feeling the warmth in the dead of winter. Aemond wants her to know that she’s been a saving grace for him, but he’s somehow at a loss for words, his thoughts jumbling together.

“It was way more than that and I...,” never in his life had he gotten this tongue-tied and flustered. Yet she treats him with the same kindness and with no sign of prejudice, listening closely and keeping her eyes on him. Her gaze is disarming enough to make him say the first thing that comes to mind.

“I must admit, you exceeded my expectations,” Aemond breathes out.

It immediately feels like the worst, the dullest choice of words possible, and he wants to sink into the ground right this second. But then he sees her natural smile, genuine and bright, blossoming on her face again.

“I am glad to be of service, my prince,” she murmurs the last part, and his heart skips a bit.

He didn’t register the moment she came a bit closer, but she isn’t shying away from shortening the distance. There’s something enamoring about her trusting nature but that’s not what draws him in. For the first time, he experiences an unfamiliar feeling that tightens his chest, makes his breathing rapid. His gaze slips over her face, down from her radiant eyes to her smile, framed by the lips that look as soft as freshly bloomed flowers. The feeling melts into an urge — he only needs to take a step, to lean his head forward just a bit and...

Aemond inhales deeply. He thinks they are in no rush, he thinks it would’ve been disrespectful and naive. He’s mostly afraid to misread the situation, to scare her away.

But he wants to make his intentions clear. Aemond runs his thumb over her knuckles, brushing them one by one. And then he takes her hand to his lips, planting a kiss on it. He allows himself just this flicker of bravery before straightening up and releasing her hand. When he looks at her, her gaze is directed at him already. It feels like a particular question is hanging in the air; they let it dissolve for now.

“I shall bid you goodnight,” her eyes linger on him for a second before she turns away.

As Aemond watches her go, he is certain he wants them to be more than just friends. Lucerys’s name day comes in a about month, and by that time Aemond’s routine has changed drastically. It might look the same: he wakes up with the sun, flies with Vhagar, he trains regularly, he spends his free time reading — except now Y/N is a part of his every activity.

She’s never nosy or clingy; he is the one seeking her company at all times. She’s an early riser, too, and they are always the first ones at the breakfast table: he asks her about her dreams, they make plans, they poke fun at Aegon, who is perpetually sleepy, and she can effortlessly hold any other conversation with his family which only makes him ever so pleased.

She watches him train with genuine curiosity, she never looks away nor flinches, even when he gets too competitive and rough. Her attention is flattering — and it’s all on him, and it feels unusual at first, but becomes empowering and he bathes in it.

When he takes her to meet Vhagar, she is terribly nervous. Aemond jokes that meeting his old dragon will pose no challenge after she handled Ser Lannister. It gives her enough confidence to pat Vhagar’s snout as the beast observes her calmly. Aemond assures her that the dragon will never go against his wishes. What he wants to say is that Vhagar senses how he feels about her.

They spend evenings in the library, both absorbed in reading but always sitting close by, their arms and shoulders coming into contact more often than not. He sometimes can’t help but get distracted which leads to him forgetting about his book, instead secretly watching her, his glance full of adoration.

For a while, he’s oblivious to how inseparable they’ve become until Helaena tells him one day, while Y/N is playing with Jaehaerys and Jaehaera in his sister’s chambers. When Helaena mentions it ever so nonchalantly — “You two seem joined at the hip!”, it startles him. But that moment doesn’t turn into an awkward one — instead, Aemond realizes that he's not scared anymore.

“I will steal her away from time to time,” Helaena says, as cheery as ever.

“Bold of you to assume I will let you,” he chuckles, his gaze not leaving his betrothed.

“I think she’ll have the last word,” his sister retorts with a cunning smile.

Aemond doesn’t think twice before admitting. “She will never say no.”

“My point exactly.” The Queen plans a great hunt to celebrate her secondborn son, and a feast is being held in no time. Aemond detests those pompous events yet Y/N seems too enthusiastic about the idea, and he begrudgingly agrees to participate. He has no wish to burden her with his weighted resentment toward Luke but, as usual, she sees right through him. She asks him if he has any reservations about the upcoming celebration, and that’s when he decides to tell her. Aemond doesn’t want her to pity him nor does he want to upset her so he keeps the story brief: he claimed the dragon, his siblings didn’t like it, things escalated way too quickly and they haven’t been on good terms ever since.

She heeds his every word, then bluntly asks. “Must you really go?”

He ponders before answering with a sigh. “It would be rude not to. I should pay my respect.”

“I wish he had the courtesy to do the same for you,” she frowns.

“It would be a little too late for an apology,” Aemond shrugs even though her caring tone moves him deeply.

“I still think you deserve one,” she says like it’s the most obvious, logical thing in the world. He wonders how obvious the reddening of his cheeks is.

“I do not wish to dwell in the past when so many great things lay ahead of me,” and he only means her. Having a future with her is his greatest blessing.

She bestows him with her softest smile. “I guess we should make the best out of the situation we are in. Maybe you will have some fun hunting.” Aemond doesn’t know what was her definition of fun, but his definitely doesn’t involve babysitting Aegon. Yet that’s what he ends up doing as they get separated from the group of hunters and his brother gets so drunk, he can barely stay in the saddle. He babbles and whines and Aemond is on the verge of praying for a miracle when the two of them finally stumble upon a boar. The younger prince catches the animal without a struggle.

“Oh, must be good to be a boar. Wild and free!” Aegon grumbles on their way back to the camp.

“I just slit his throat. I doubt you would want to switch places with him.”

“I didn’t say I want to switch places,” he shakes his head so vigorously, he almost falls down. Aemond moves his horse closer, grabbing Aegon by the shoulder to steady him.

“Although switching places with you sounds tempting,” he sneers.

“And why would you ever want that?” Aemond raised his brow questioningly.

“You got yourself a pretty wife-to-be,” Aegon chants and whistles.

“Are you asking for me to tie you to that boar? That can be arranged,” Aemond deadpans.

“ 'tis won’t be necessary,” Aegon's quick to object. “Whatever she sees in you, those qualities are not in my possession,” his frown turns into a grin and he winks at his brother.

Aemond lightly chuckles. “You’ll get no argument from me.” Leaving her is not an easy task for Aemond but coming back to her might be the second-best thing in the entire world. And the first one, obviously, is being with her.

When they return to the camp, he helps Aegon down, impatiently looking around, and as his eye lands on her, his breathing hitches.

She’s standing next to the hunting tent, surrounded by a group of ladies, Helaena by her side and they’re both laughing as his sister unsuccessfully tries to finish her sentence. Y/N has a violet in her hair, strands of it falling down her shoulders, her smile bright against the fading evening sun. She helps Helaena to articulate whatever she's talking about, the ladies around them cackling.

Aemond admires his betrothed from afar, savoring the moment.

It amuses him that her softness is a choice, that she chooses to be open-minded and kind, even though the world around her is armed to the teeth, and she does know how to fight back. And yet, that’s not what motivates her. Instead, she’s an image of benevolence and generosity, always understanding and forgiving, hence why people are so naturally drawn to her. And he is no exception.

Aemond gets distracted when a couple of servants approach him and he instructs them to take the boar’s carcass away.

“You had a successful hunt, dear prince,” when Aemond hears the question, he rolls his eye. Turning around, he sees Tyland Lannister with a smile so forged his face might crack in half.

“As usual,” Aemond answers indifferently. “Never took you for a hunter.”

“I cannot appreciate cruelty,” Lannister forces out. “And I am afraid I will not be able to negotiate my way out of a bear’s grip. So I am here merely to control my brother’s primal impulses.”

The mentioning of Jason makes Aemond cautious.

“Developing some self-control may be beneficial for him,” the prince mutters.

Tyland goes blanch white, taking the hint. “I was wondering if I should address the delicate issue of my brother’s sympathy toward your—”

“You should not,” Aemond cuts him off. “Would be better to address his manners but it’s the thing you must sort out amongst yourselves,” with that, he turns away to find Y/N again.

Except she isn’t there.

The ladies moved closer to the tent but she and Helaena are the only ones missing. It takes him a second to realize that the women look alarmed, glancing at the tent. Or rather inside of it.

Aemond all but runs there, going over the worst scenarios in his head. When he gets in and sees Y/N in the company of Ser Lannister, he thinks he’s never been angrier in his life. If Aemond was a dragon, the lord would’ve been burned to a pulp as of right now.

Jason keeps his distance and his face expresses nothing but regret yet it looks like it’s already too late as she is glaring at him with a sharp glint in her eyes. And in the next moment, she loses her temper.

“...What am I missing exactly?” she asks Jason, her voice unexpectedly loud, and it draws the attention of some nearby men. She doesn’t care.

“You’ve been eager to win me over, but I am yet to find a single reason why would any woman find your company endearing,” she takes a step toward the lord and he shrivels under the weight of her words.

“Is it the winery that your servants built for you? Is it your herd of fine horses? You talk so much about your stable, one may think your betrothed is to marry a stallion,” her smile is mirthless. Aemond hears a faint groan behind his back and recognizes Tyland’s scared tone.

“But what are your accomplishments?” the tent gets deadly quiet as she continues. “Do you consider your persevering courtship to be one of them? Or your harassing of my parents, my relatives and even my maids with your never-ending propositions, no matter how many times were they all rejected? Or mayhaps ambushing me in the hallway counts as an achievement for you?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Aemond sees Helaena and Aegon, both looking stunned. Pretty much everyone around him has the same expression at the sight of Y/N. The prince, on the other hand, has never been more proud of anyone.

She looks at Jason as if she wants to bore a hole in him, her voice getting lower but harsher.

“You want to know what prince Aemond did? None of the above.”

Aemond feels his heart freeze at the mention of his name. She is yet to see him but when she speaks, it feels like she’s seen enough.

“The man I am about to marry has been nothing but kind, respectful and loving, fulfilling my every wish, granting me the comfort of his company and his loyalty. The man with the sharpest mind and the kindest heart — both of which you’re clearly lacking,” she casts Jason a disdainful glance. “So from where I am standing, it looks like I’m the luckiest woman in the Seven Kingdoms.”

When she feels a hand on her waist, she isn’t surprised and welcomes the touch with no hesitation, knowing full well who is standing beside her. She swiftly turns to Aemond, their eyes locking.

“I would like it if we left earlier, my prince.”

“As you wish,” Aemond wishes he could marry her right now.

Disregarding everyone’s attention, he leads her out and asks the coachman to fetch their carriage. When they are away from prying eyes, her confidence wavers a little. It only fuels Aemond’s ire.

“Give me just a second,” he can’t help himself.

Aemond goes back to the tent — and right to the Lannisters, one of them is already scolding the other. Tyland stops his lecturing when he notices Aemond, but the prince doesn’t let him make a sound.

“That was the second time your brother couldn’t hold his tongue,” Aemond ignores Jason and walks up close to the other man. “If you care about his well-being in the slightest, make sure there will be no third time.”

“Aemond, let us not make another scene. You must think how that will look like...”

Aemond stares Tyland dead in the eyes and promises:

“I will gut him like a boar. Imagine how that will look like.”

Without saying another word, the prince storms off.

Y/N already got into the carriage, fidgeting with the hem of the dress as she falls deep into her thoughts.

“Ser Lannister will not bother you anymore,” Aemond says, sitting next to her.

“I sure hope so,” she mumbles, looking down at the wrinkled fabric.

“Whatever he said, you should not let it get to you. I do appreciate the gesture,” way more than he cares to admit, “but there’s no need to go through the trouble of standing up for me,” Aemond barely finishes the sentence when she retorts:

“I will.”

She looks at him, her eyes burning with blazing certainty.

“No one took your side when you were a kid. But I’m doing it now,” she states as her palm covers his, the touch is as warming as her glance.

Aemond thinks he is the luckiest man in the Seven Kingdoms. He runs out of luck so fast, he must’ve jinxed it. They are nearing the castle when the pain on the back of his head stings so unexpectedly, he winces, his eyebrows furrowing. She notices it immediately and insists he should take a rest when they arrive.

“Mayhaps you have some of the ointment left?” she wonders, leading him to his chambers. Aemond rarely allows people to coddle him but he accepts her care freely. He is also aware that the near-miraculous balm that she makes is long gone because he hasn't had a headache in a while.

When she finds out, she looks devastated.

“It must steep for a few hours, I can’t make it right away,” her enthusiasm brittles. She glances at him in a dither, mulling over something, while he lights the fireplace.

“There is another way that I know of,” she slowly suggests. “But you will need to lie down."

“Quite a vulnerable position you want to put me in,” Aemond lightheartedly jests but brings himself at her disposal with no second thoughts.

She sits on his bed right next to him, the bend of her hips an inch away from his arm.

“Close your eye,” she asks calmly and he obliges.

Aemond senses that she leans over him and he struggles not to hold his breath at the realization of how close she is. Then he feels the tips of her fingers on his face, the touch is so light and gentle, it makes him shiver. The pattern of her movements first contours his face, then goes up to his forehead, then slowly glides onto his temples. She massages them delicately in a circular motion.

“It was probably all the noise that caused this,” she presumes.

“Or maybe the fact that the man makes my blood boil,” Aemond says, although his anger is completely gone by now.

“He is pissed I didn't choose him,” she laughs quietly.

“Choose him?” her words peak his interest. “You had a choice in the matter?”

“My father said he would hate it if I marry someone I didn’t like,” her thumbs are following the lines of his cheekbones, then run under his chin, then all the way up to his hairline, right next to his ears.

“May I ask what was your decision process?” Aemond selects his words very carefully. What he really wants to ask is why would anyone pick him, out of all people.

“I’ve heard you claimed the biggest dragon in the world at the age of ten,” he can’t see her smile but he can hear it. “That was impressive enough.”

Aemond takes a peek at her through his lashes. “That can’t be the only thing you’ve heard.”

“I can distinguish valuable information from pointless rumors,” she notes imperturbably.

“I bet those rumors included the stories of me being the scariest man in the realm...”

Her fingers cover his mouth and he stumbles.

“I decided I would be the judge of that,” she says firmly.

“And what is your verdict?” he can't stop himself from asking, his pulse speeding up.

She doesn’t think for a second.

“All the people who were spreading those vile tales clearly have never met you. There isn’t a single bad thing I can think of when it comes to you.”

Aemond shouldn’t take it to heart but that’s precisely where it hits, her voice cracking his shield, her eyes telling him she will never regret knowing him, caring for him. He thinks this is what true happiness is — being with someone who will choose you every time.

Her fingers graze over the strip of his eyepatch and she pauses her movement. She isn’t breaking eye contact, waiting for his reaction, for his permission or refusal. Aemond gulps, helpless under her gaze, and doesn't stop her.

She picks up the leather strip slowly, as if she wants to give him a chance to change his mind. Aemond watches her, his body still, heart rate booming in his ears. She removes the eyepatch and looks straight at the sapphire that gleams brightly in the warm lighting. And then she smiles.

“What do you see?” he exhales.

“Nothing scary, that’s for sure,” her gaze doesn’t leave his face, her index finger tracing the scar, barely touching his skin.

“Nothing I don’t admire,” her voice is a little above a whisper.

“Nothing I wouldn’t love.”

His heart is beating so fast, it feels caged and ready to jump out at any second. Aemond forgets about the headache as if it never existed. In this state of bliss, he contemplates making a very emotional decision. But she makes one instead.

She lowers her face closer to his and all of a sudden he feels a touch so light, it’s almost like a petal brushes over his skin. It’s her lips. She kisses his face — his scar — moving tenderly from the high point of his cheek to the area under the sapphire and then right above what’s left of his eyelid.

When their eyes meet again, Aemond can only think of one thing.

He surges upward, his lips colliding with hers — she responds in an instant. His chest feels like it’s on fire as kissing her is the most overwhelming feeling in the world, but he doesn’t want to stop, ever. Her fingers gently slide down to his neck and Aemond uses his arm for support as he sits up without breaking the kiss. He then pulls her closer, one of his hands on her lower back and the other nestled under her jaw.

She softly sighs into his mouth — and it might be his new favorite sound. She tastes like berries, her lips getting more eager, fiery, addictive, and he is dizzy with joy and longing, trying to memorize each second. The pacing of the kiss grows heated and intoxicating as they melt into each other perfectly. They only part when both are out of air, their lips tingling, swollen and craving to continue.

“I must admit,” she tries to catch her breath, she can’t stop smiling, her hands caressing his face, “you exceeded my expectations.”

Aemond laughs, cheerful and carefree, his nose bumping into hers.

“It’s all about teamwork, as I’ve heard,” he plants a quick peck on the corner of her mouth — and on the other one. And then they are kissing again, desperately drawn to each other. He’s lost in the sound of her voice, in the feeling of her lips on his.

His love for her is all-consuming. Her love for him is healing.

Turns out, letting her in doesn’t make him lose. With her by his side, he always feels like a winner.

✧ the title is a quote from Hozier’s song ✧ I originally took inspiration from this post that lists the possible consequences of losing an eye. I also can’t help but mention the extensive research that @adderess did, which only adds to that heartbreaking yet very realistic concept. ✧ I have a playlist for Aemond 🎵 I didn’t add any music in this fic BUT I’ve listened to “Mr Sandman” a lot, especially the instrumental version. 💕 my masterlist

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

2K notes · View notes