#yes i know i said lighting twice

[nikkento-writes]

It starts with a distasteful joke from Gojo. "I bet Nanami's pretty vanilla in bed, am I right?" He nudges you playfully as he sips on his lychee mocktail in the restaurant. Your boyfriend excused himself to use the bathroom and Ieiri went out for a smoke, leaving you alone with Gojo, who you met for the first time just a little over an hour ago.

You're shocked that he'd even ask such a personal question, especially since your relationship with Nanami is still four-months fresh. Unsure how to respond, you simply laugh, not answering. When he continues to stare at you through his blindfold, your smile falters. "You're being serious?"

He smirks, clearly egging you on. "I just can't imagine our little strait-laced salary man being very fun in the sack. No offense."

You're torn between changing the subject all together into something less inappropriate and defending your lover's honor. And unfortunately for you, as the anger inside you begins to bubble at Gojo's tactless words, you choose the latter. "If you must know, he's very, very fun in the sack." You cross your arms over your chest, glaring at him. 

He shrugs, the shit-eating grin still on his face. "I just can't see it. But as long as you're satisfied, that's all that matters."

"I am very satisfied, thank you very much!" you emphasize, cheeks hot now, annoyed. Before you explode on him, Nanami and Ieiri return, so you try to contain your rage as much as possible throughout the rest of dinner.

You intend to keep his outrageous comments to yourself, not wanting to start any unnecessary drama, especially with Nanami who is above this type of ridiculousness. But remembering Gojo's smug expression makes you irate all over again. That night, while you're cuddling with Nanami, you share the story. "So, Gojo said something funny to me while you were in the bathroom." As you recount the short conversation from earlier, you keep it light-hearted, laughing about it as if it doesn't grind your gears (which it does). In all honestly, your sex life with Nanami is amazing, and while it's nobody's business but your own, you can't help being bothered that certain people think otherwise. 

When you're done, Nanami doesn't respond right away, processing it all before he speaks. "Interesting." His voice is steady, though you can sense a hint of annoyance in his tone. "He's an idiot," he adds, holding you closer, grazing his lips on your forehead. 

You giggle, snuggling into his chest. "I know."

"But...you are satisfied, right?"

The waver of uncertainty in his voice breaks your heart and you almost regret telling him. "Of course I am! You know I am!" you answer confidently, peering up at him.

He kisses your forehead. "You promise?"

Grabbing both his cheeks, you smooch him on the lips. "I promise."

Gentle kisses soon turn into sloppy ones as Nanami rolls on top of you, surrounding you in his strong and muscular body. It happens quickly; the blanket is shrugged off, clothes are stripped and scattered on the floor, your legs are spread wide for him as he eats you out voraciously, proving how much fun he can be in bed. He makes you orgasm twice like this, getting it nice and wet for his hard cock, throbbing in his fist as he strokes it. “Ride me,” he demands, laying on his back, licking his lips while you mount him.

You oblige, sinking down on his cock slowly, adjusting to his size. “Fuck, Kento,” you whine, wiggling on his lap until he bottoms out.

“Feels good, huh sweetheart?” He traces your mouth with his thumb, teasing it.

“Yes. So fucking good.” You suck on his fingers, rocking back and forth on his lap. 

He fucks you like this, his feet planted on the bed, bucking his hips up into you at a steady pace. Suddenly, his phone rings, interrupting for a moment. He glances at it, his expression tensing, showing you the name displayed on the screen: Gojo Satoru.

"Answer it," you say, grinding on him with a wicked smile on your face. "Prove him wrong."

For a split-second, he looks at you like you're crazy. But something in him snaps, probably the same thing that made you so angry earlier. Sometimes, you just want to prove yourself right. 

He picks up the phone, putting it on speaker. Gojo's voice rings out. "Nanami, I feel terrible. I said some inappropriate things to your girl - "

"Fuck me, Kento," you whine, bouncing on his lap as he thrusts up into you faster, entire body hot and electric with pleasure. 

Nanami has the phone in one hand and the other that was just in your mouth playing with your clit now. Through labored breaths, he says, "Sorry Gojo, I'm a bit busy being an absolute bore in bed. Isn't that right, kitten?" 

He holds the phone closer to you while you moan your boyfriend's name, your third climax of the night approaching quickly. "Kento, Kento, fuck me Kento!”

Satisfied, Nanami sets the phone down on the bed, gripping your hips to pound up into you, the squelching of his cock pummeling into your wet cunt so erotic and lewd. “Gonna fill you up, sweetheart. Gonna breed this slutty little pussy.” Over the edge now, he shoots his load inside you, letting out his own husky moans. He hastily lifts you off him to eat you out one last time, his cum leaking down from your cunt onto his chin as he sucks on your swollen clit until you come on his face, moaning obscenities incessantly. Completely spent now, you pull off him to cuddle, kissing each other messily as you both come down from your high. 

"Ahem." Gojo's voice startles you as you realize that neither he nor Nanami bothered to hang up the call. Horrified, the two of you wait with bated breath for his response, noting the suggestive ruffling in the background. "I apologize. I stand corrected."

[sqtorux]

love makes a man tender— the same could be said for a monster.

sukuna sits patiently with his daughter on his lap while she applies various colours on his face he finds so hideous.

her small little hands pat the products into his skin, a bit too aggressively for his liking but he lets her regardless, not without a few grunts and huffs of annoyance though.

"pick another one" sukuna says in an irritated tone when she brought a bright pink blush close to his face.

the child only pouts "but 'ts pretty!!" now if you must know, sukuna dislikes pink; hates it even. it looks lively and soft — the exact opposite of who he was. (also maybe because a certain someone aka his least favourite niece has the exact same hair colour but the girl doesn't need to know that).

despite that, sukuna finds himself giving into that stupid pout he somehow catches himself adoring. all four of his eyes roll "get on with it then."

the giggles that follow after almost made him want to paint all of himself pink. almost.

however, what drove him to the edge was when he was asked to close his eyes so she could apply yet another colour onto them.

being the kid she is, she does it a bit sloppy— accidentally poking his eyes once or twice. "brat that hurts" sukuna growls but makes no move to stop her.

he thinks the foolish eye pokes were worth it when a light peck lands on each of his eyes "sorry daddy!" the child chuckles and sukuna opens his eyes.

one of his four hands make their way to her lips stained with a faint black— which he guesses were from his eyes, and wipes them away gently. "you look stupid."

the girl ignores his half assed words and brings yet another bright shade and begins applying it onto his lips. he sits obediently.

"there! you're done. you're so pretty daddy!!" the child squeals in excitement and brings a mirror to her father's face.

sukuna stares into the mirror and frowns "how horrifying."

"do you not like it?"

sukuna scoffs and places the mirror down "i have always wanted to look abominable."

"yes you look adorable!" the girl giggles while clapping her tiny hands together happily. sukuna doesn't correct her.

later when she sleeps and you're talking the makeup off for him, sukuna complaints.

"this is the result of the small brat's assault."

you only laugh in response and his eyes stare up to you. "i am being very serious."

"then why didn't you stop her?"

sukuna doesn't have an answer to that because that would mean he had to admit his affection for yet another person after you.

"that's right, you'd do anything for her won't you?" your chuckle makes all four of his eyes roll. he seems to do that a lot lately.

"the small brat and the big brat love tormenting me."

you raise a brow at this, "and do you have a problem with that?"

sukuna huffs but the soft expression replacing his usually grim one betrays the act of annoyance he puts up.

"i wouldn't have it any other way."

[fangirl-dot-com]

🧠Fake Amnesia

*part of the reverse trope series*

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fan!Reader Genre: Fluff/Humor/SMAU Summary: There was a saying that if you knew a celebrity existed, your chances of meeting them out and about decreased significantly. Is it true? No clue. But, you weren't about to let that stop you from finding Lando Norris in Imola.

*I am so so sorry for the very late and delayed chapter. I hope you all like it! I switched out this one to write it before the next as "Love Triangle" was supposed to come out first, but we've had a lot of Lestappen for now! But here we go!"

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Were you a bit stupid? 

Yes. Yes you were. Did you more money than your budget allowed just to get to Imola a few days early to possibly not even find Lando? You didn’t want to talk about it. 

But right now as you perused through the local shopping area, you didn’t take the time to really dwell on your past choices. Only finding Lando could save you now. Which that seemed like a faraway dream. 

Whatever that one reddit post said about having a higher chance of meeting a celebrity if you didn’t know them was absolute bullshit. You couldn’t go back in time to stop yourself from liking a thirst trap of Lando on TikTok. And now because of that, your chances of meeting the British driver seriously decreased. 

How on earth were you supposed to find one of the most popular men alive, on a race weekend, where everyone was already looking to spot the driver in a more relaxed setting? You had no clue. But the shopping center felt like a good idea. 

You had been drawn in by one of the jewelry sections, eyes glazing over the number of zeros that followed every first number. Your heart winced at the thought of even buying one. To be honest, you didn’t even know how you got into this mall in the first place. Everyone around you was dressed in the highest European fashion. 

Your outfit wasn’t terrible per say, but it didn’t reflect the Italian area either. You were wearing some cream baggy linen pants that matched the light orange top that you had thrown on after scrambling to find a shirt. You didn’t really know exactly what shirt you were wearing, except that it was comfortable and went well with the pants. The giant number 4 on the back went completely unnoticed. Sandals adorned your feet and sunglass sat as though a crown on your head. Your cross-body bag dangled a bit against your side. 

You had just cringed once again at a price tag when your eyes landed on some brown curly hair. Your eyes followed the coils down to the face and you wanted to scream (but held it in because you were not about to get kicked out). 

There was no way that Lando Norris was standing about 10 feet away from you. 

There was no way. 

Except your hands automatically opened your phone and the twitter app popped up. You were too busy looking down at your phone, fingers moving at the speed of light, to notice that some hazel eyes had landed on your figure. 

Lando, on the other hand, wanted to sigh. Could he go one day without having to get stopped by fans? The giant 4 on your shirt seemed to mock him. Internally, he was wishing that the girl was a Max or Charles fan. 

But, he was going to be the bigger person and approach the nice looking girl before she could bring more attention to him. He decreased the space between them and tapped her shoulder, getting her attention. 

You were not expecting a tap on the shoulder. And you were definitely not expecting that tap to come from Lando Norris’s finger. 

“Can I sign something for you?” he asked. The sound of his voice must have put some type of spell on you since you felt as though you couldn’t speak. 

Lando huffed. “Please? I don’t need other people finding out that I’m here and then I’ll have to leave.” 

You blinked twice at him before you finally found your voice. “I’m sorry. Who are you exactly?” 

Stupid reddit post. 

The McLaren driver wanted to smack himself. Were you a fan? Or maybe you were wearing a papaya colored shirt that supported another person, who happened to have the same number? Or maybe if was your friend’s shirt? Or one you thrifted?

He winced. “I am so sorry. I thought. . . ” 

You shifted on your feet, brain trying to come up with an idea for what happens next. You were standing in front of thee Lando Norris. You couldn’t miss this opportunity. 

Lando watched your eyes widen and he wanted to hide. Maybe you were just shocked that it was him? 

Your eyes then squinted. “You look really familiar. Oh, I know where you’re from.” 

The Briton wanted to run and hide. This was it, you were going to start squealing, and then other people will look that way, see Lando, cause a giant crowd, and then he wouldn’t be able to do anything for the rest of the weekend. 

He was doomed. 

“You’re that actor right? From Spiderman.” 

This time, Lando blinked while staying silent. 

“No, I believe that’s Tom Holland.” 

“Oh.” 

Now it was getting awkward with the two of you just looking at each other. Which, this gave you the perfect opportunity to memorize the different shades of blue, green, and brown in his eyes. You looked to the side and chewed on you bottom lip. 

Lando looked stuck. 

“I am so sorry for interrupting your shopping,” he started out. 

You waved your hands, trying to act nonchalant. “It’s fine. Wasn’t like I could buy anything here. Way too many zeros for my liking.” 

Lando giggled at that and you internally melted. 

Time to add “got Lando Norris to giggle like a schoolgirl” on your resume. 

“Yeah. Bit too posh for me as well.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? You look like you fit in a bit more than I do.” 

He rolled his eyes before huffing. “I’d rather spend time playing video games at my house instead.” 

Now this is what you could get behind. When you first started following Lando, gaming started to interest you. Because of him, you were able to meet a bunch of friends through gaming. Your notifications were specifically set up to let you know when Lando was streaming. 

Your eyes lit up with some excitement, which Lando thought was adorable. 

“I like to game too! It’s fun playing weird simulator games. Me and my friends tried this goat game one time and we couldn’t stop laughing.” 

This time, Lando’s eyes sparkled. 

“I’ve played goat simulator too with my friends! Charles . . .” he caught himself, not wanting to give out more names. “Uh my friends Carl, Alec, and Jord really liked it during the pandemic. And then we got Dax in on it too.” 

You wanted to absolutely start laughing, since you actually watched that stream live back in 2020. The cute names he gave to Charles, Alex, George, and Max were adorable. Your friends, although knowing you were watching the stream, had sent you the link and asked if you’d want to play the same simulator. Let’s just say, your laugh rivaled teapot-Charles. 

“They sound like fun,” you said, a warm tone in your voice that had Lando melting like chocolate under a hot summer’s sun. 

There was a bit of silence before Lando spoke up again. “Do you maybe, this sounds so weird, but there’s a game store farther down, would you want to join me?” 

There was no way in hell that you’d tell him no. 

You smiled up at him. “Sure! Lead the way! By the way, I’m Y/n.” 

Lando went to say something but stopped. You could tell he almost said his name, and you’d bet money on the name that was about to come out of his mouth. 

“I’m Bob.”

Bingo. 

You snorted. “You don’t look like a Bob. But what would I know?” 

The two of you laughed as you started walking farther into the shopping center. You exchanged laughs here and there, sharing stories about your lives with Lando being very vague about his day job. 

“I work as an Uber driver,” he had said after you confessed that you were now working as a part-time gamer and then part-time relator. The work was hard, but that job allowed you to spend your hard-earned money on fun things like: coming to Imola early to try to find Lando. 

Low-and-behold, you did. 

Spending the afternoon with him felt so comfortable, as if you had known each other your entire lives. And Lando, to his surprise, felt the same. After the gaming store, he even invited you to lunch. 

“You know you don’t have to do that,” you told him, but kept stride alongside him as he walked toward the small restaurants. 

He shrugged. “I know. But I like spending time with you.” 

A deep blush formed on your face as you kept walking. The bright red caused Lando to smirk just a bit. 

As you ate and made conversation, you suddenly felt the urge to use the bathroom. You quickly excused yourself and left, leaving Lando at the table along. 

He hadn’t meant to look, but your phone kept going off and his eyes just barely looked at your screen. They widened with he noticed his exact points in the season along with McLaren’s and the race schedule. And the picture of him from Miami after his first win as your lockscreen.

The Box-Box app. 

He pursed his lips for a moment, briefly feeling played. But as he sat and thought about the past few hours that he spent with you, he felt content. At any point, you could have screamed his name, asked for a picture, and ruin his shopping trip. You could have tweeted his location and hordes of people would have shown up. 

But you didn’t.  

The McLaren driver was so caught up in his head that he didn’t heard you coming. Thankfully, your screen had gone dark, still giving the effect that you “didn’t know” who he really way. 

“Everything ok Bob?” you asked as you sat back down, stealing one of his French fries from his tray. 

Lando shook his head, ridding the “betrayal” from his thoughts. 

“Just perfect. Trying to figure out who might win the Formula 1 race this weekend.” 

He wanted to smirk at you froze for just a second before leaning back just a bit, arms crossed over your chest. 

“What is that? Some type of NASCAR thing?” 

Oh, so you knew how to play. 

Luckily for Lando, so did he. 

“It’s a bit different,” he said as he took a sip of his drink. 

You were internally freaking out. 

Did he know? If he knew then he might say something. And then he’ll call his security team and get you a ban from the paddock. And you might even go to jail for stalking. Could you even go to Italian jail for that? You didn’t know and didn’t want to find out. 

However, Lando kept silent as the two of you finished your lunches. Easy conversation did flow once again when you steered it back to gaming. You had a giant smile as the two of you walked out of the shopping area. 

However, your heart dropped when you realized that the time with the Briton was coming to a quick end. Lando was feeling the same. 

You let out a sigh as you turned to look him in the eyes. “Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun! Like I said, you didn’t have to.” 

Lando scoffed. “Of course I did. I interrupted your shopping. It was the least I could do.” 

There was a lingering silence before you broke it. 

“I guess this is the end then Bob.” You held out a hand for him to shake, but he rolled his eyes and brought you into a hug. You parted after a bit and started to walk toward the little Fiat you had rented for the weekend. 

Lando felt torn until he realized he could definitely see you again. 

“Y/n! Wait!” 

You turned around to see Lando running up to you, phone out. 

“Can I have your number?” 

Yep, this is how you were going to die. Y/n L/n found dead in a parking lot after Lando Norris asked for her number. What an amazing way to go out in the end. 

You didn’t say anything, but quickly opened your phone and handed it to him, new contact ready to be filled out. The driver was smirking to himself as he filled out his information. He handed your phone back to you, only to lean down and kiss your cheek.

The familiar bright red once again filled them in as he leaned back. 

“I had a lot of fun today. Maybe I’ll see you soon?” he quietly said as he started to walk away. 

“Maybe,” you said back, biting your bottom lip after. 

Lando swore that if the two of you weren’t in the parking lot, he’d bite it for you. 

When he was a bit away, he turned back and waved at you, happy to see that you were still staring at him. But who wouldn’t stare at Lando Norris though. Definitely not you, you could stare all day long if you could. 

“Bye Y/n!”

“Bye Lando!” 

Your hands clapped over your mouth as you watched him lean back in a full laugh. You even had him hunching over in a fit of giggles. You still watched as his shoulders shake as he got into what looked to be an Uber. 

Your phone buzzed, causing you to look down at it. There was an email and a text message. One from McLaren and one from “Lando 🧡” 

“Maybe next time I can sign your shirt. I think it’s cute that you follow my points :)”

You turned around quickly, trying to see the back of your shirt in the reflection of your rental car. There it was, in all it’s glory. 

The giant-ass “4.” 

“Shit.” 

y/n_l/n has posted

y/n_y/n kinda confused about 20 guys driving around in circles. someone know what this is called?

also ran into this really cute guy. says he drives for a living. didn't know uber drivers could be hot

liked by friend1, bestie, landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 3,204 others

friend1 ayo is that the guy that you will not shut up about?

landonorris awww you don't shut up about me??

y/n_l/n STOP EXPOSING ME

bestie ok I see the appeal, can you ask someone for that brunet in the red's number??

maxverstappen1 🤺🤺🤺

y/n_l/n i think he's taken

charles_leclerc I am??

maxverstappen1 ☹️

charles_leclerc I AM TAKEN

friend2 so luckyyyyyyy

friend4 glad you had fun!

oscarpiastri I think it's called Formula 1

y/n_l/n finally someone who knows something @.landonorris you've been replaced

landonorris osc, we've talked about this

fan1 what the heck is going on

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[mossy-rock-in-a-field]

Several weeks ago, my retirement-age mother requested that I play Baldur’s Gate 3 for her because she has trouble with controllers/keyboards and wanted “to see what all the fuss is about with that cute wizard boy.” For context, my mother and I have done this sort of thing in the past with certain RPGs (dragon age, mass effect, etc.), but it’s been a few years since she’s personally requested a game like this. Basically, I control her Tav but let her make all the choices so she can determine how the story plays out without worrying about mechanics. She treats it like a choose-your-own-adventure book.

Anyway, here is a list of some of the things my mother has said and/or chosen to do throughout the course of BG3 in no particular order:

She is (obviously) romancing Gale. She is quite smitten with him and his passion for books and learning; she also thinks he’s polite and qualifies as “relationship material.” She also REALLY likes the things he’s said about his cat so far (my mom is a cat lady), so I know she’s gonna flip shit when we meet Tara in Act III.

She’s playing a normal druid Tav with a generally good alignment. Her favorite spell is Spike Growth because she thinks it’s hilarious whenever enemies walk into the AOE and die. I usually end up having to cast it at least once per battle per her request. Sometimes twice.

Contrary to her alignment, my mother tasks me with robbing every single chest, crate, barrel, and burlap sack we come across; this also includes people and their pockets. The party is always at max carrying capacity. ALWAYS. She doesn’t like selling things because “what if I need them.” The camp stash is in literal shambles. There is no hope of organizing it. She’s got like fifty seven sets of rags and a billion pieces of random silverware.

She MUST talk to every animal and corpse in the game. I think five hours of her total playtime so far (47ish) has been spent speaking to animals as many times as humanly possible. Like, I was thorough in my own playthroughs, but this is on a whole other level.

She did NOT get Volo’s lobotomy, but she did let Auntie Ethel take her eye in hopes of a cure for the tadpole. I did not understand the logic then. I still do not understand it now.

She is far more interested in fashion than equipment stats. Do you have any idea how much gold I’ve had to spend on dyes just to make things match? SO much. Same vibe as that “please someone help me balance my finances my family is starving” tweet but instead of candles it’s thirty thousand fucking bottles of black and furnace red dye.

We broke the prisoners out of Moonrise, but they got on the boat too early and bugged the fight by leaving Astarion and Karlach behind. Wulbren Bongle somehow got stuck in combat mode even after engaging the cutscene on the docks below Last Light; he he kept trying to run ALL THE WAY BACK TO MOONRISE nine fucking meters at a time while I frantically tried to finish the fight with the Warden, otherwise Wulbren would have run straight into the shadow curse. (I would’ve let him go; fuck Wulbren Bongle, all my homies hate Wulbren Bongle. But my mom didn’t know that, and she wanted to keep him safe. So.)

She had me reload a save like eighteen times to save the giant eagles on top of Rosymorn Monastery. Wouldn’t even let me do non-lethal damage just to get past things. I think getting that warhammer for the dawnmaster puzzle took us like an hour and a half alone. (Yes, I know you can use any warhammer, but SHE didn’t.)

She’s started keeping an irl notebook to keep track of her quests between play sessions. She writes down ideas and strategies when she thinks of them during the week, then brings them to her next game session at my house. I think she wrote about three pages on possible approaches to the goblin fortress alone.

She insists that I pet Scratch and the owlbear cub before every single long rest, no exceptions. Sometimes I have to do it multiple times until she is absolutely sure that the animals know exactly how much she loves and cherishes them. She has also commissioned a crocheted owlbear plush from a friend of hers and is very excited.

I’m sure there’s a bunch of stuff I’m forgetting, but those are some fun things I thought of. She’s enjoying the game and is telling all of her retired friends to get it and play it for themselves. She asked me “what is Discord” yesterday and I think my life flashed before my eyes.

anyway shout out to my mom for being neat

Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

[tinyluvs]

imagine dating spencer and you come to visit or something and make him so distracted that he literally can’t info dump on something and the rest of the team is just shocked

yes yes, a hundred times yes 🤭 thank you so much!

catching a glimpse of yourself in the elevator mirror was the last thing you needed right now. you were covered in paint, your dungarees showing up every coloured streak and hand print against the light denim. you're sure there's paint in your hair but you don't have time to dwell on it, you're late

you'd got stressed, painting your boyfriends apartment on your own, lost track of time and then didn't have the time to change before running out of the apartment, just about managing to remember to grab yours and spencer's lunch on the way

"i'm so sorry i'm late," you sigh and frown as you rush through the bullpen to the collection of desks you're oh so familiar with, "please excuse the state of me,"

spencer turns at the sound of your voice, "hi sweetheart," he hums, looking up at you just as you dip to kiss him quickly before pushing the bag of food onto his lap

"hey," you smile softly at your boyfriend before turning to his colleagues, "hey guys, how are we all?" you ask, getting a mixed bunch of replies back

"how's painting?" derek laughs, looking at your appearance and the state of your clothes

you slide onto spencer's desk, pulling your legs up to sit cross legged, "standing six feet up a ladder trying to hold a tray of paint and a brush is hard, i've nearly fallen off twice," you huff,

spencer hands you the sandwich he knows is yours and then seemingly looks at you properly for the first time since you've been there, "hey," he says, almost breathlessly

"hello?" you question, head tilting slightly, "you've already said hi," you say, looking at emily and jj who just snicker and shrug their shoulders but spencer doesn't reply, "oh before i forget!"

your boyfriend watches you carefully as you produce a piece of paper from the tiny pocket on the front of your dungarees, flapping it around to unfold it, your other hand busy clutching your food

"the living room is next, i need to know how much paint to buy," you explain, handing the paper to him, "the cans are one litre or five litres, i can't figure it out"

truth be told you hadn't bothered to try and work it out, knowing spencer would be able to reel off the answer like it's nothing, naturally, he knew the exact measurements of every wall in his house

the boy stares up at you blankly, big brown eyes soft and sparkly. your cheeks heat up under his gaze, your eyebrows raising slightly, "spence?" you nudge him with your knee

he jumps ever so slightly, his head shaking a bit, "hmm?" he asks before only just registering you've handed him something, his eyes scan over it, "oh!" he blushes, turning his chair to face his desk

"what colour are you doing the living room?" jj asks while she stabs at her salad like it's offending her. you'd consulted the girls with all of the decorating developments.

"a light brown i think, we have so much to hang on the walls," you pause to swallow, "so something neutral," you finish with a slight nod

a door opening to your side grabs your attention, aaron coming out of his office with his lunch. he comes down into the bullpen, sitting on the edge of emily's desk, "the paint fighting back?" he asks you, slight smile creeping over his face

you roll your eyes at him, playfully, while the other laugh at your expense, "very funny but i don't see any of you offering to help"

penelope scoffs, "actually, i did" and she was right, however her idea of getting wine drunk and decorating had been quickly shut down by spencer, the only input he's actually offered up in the whole process

giggling, you turn back to your boyfriend who's been far too quiet, "boy wonder?" you say gently, pushing your fingers through his hair, "got an answer for me?"

usually he would have an answer within seconds, his minutes of silence making you frown, he turns to you with the same frown painted across his face, "i don't know," he says

people around you gasp, loudly too, "what do you mean, you don't know?" emily almost chokes on her lunch, sitting forward to gawp at the boy

"i do not know how much paint we need" he confirms

derek scrambles, pulling his phone out of his pocket, "say it again, i need record of this moment" he pleads while garcia smacks him

"well there's a first," david says, wandering over after hearing spencer say i don't know for possibly the first time, ever

your boy stares at the paper in his hand and then up at you, confused, "i have to go and work it out, excuse me" he says, rushed, as he stands and takes off towards circle table room

after a moment of shocked silence you turn to the team who are all staring directly at you, "i'll go check on him, i wonder what's wrong?" you say to no one in particular as you hop off of the desk

"i think i know," jj sing songs and the others hum in agreement as you hop up the stairs and along the walkway into the room.

when you get into the room spencer is stood in front of the biggest whiteboard you've possibly ever seen, marker in hand though the board is still empty of his handwriting

"spence? angel?" you say quietly, staring at his back as he starts to write the measurements of the walls in his living room, "everything alright?"

he hums, not turning to look at you as he continues to work through the problem, "yeah, fine, just can't think properly when you're around," he admits, "not when you look like that," he turns slightly to look at you

"oh, do you want me to leave?" you're sad, its obvious in your voice. nervously you start fiddling with the sleeves of your sweatshirt

your boyfriend gasps, "no, no, honey that's not what i meant!" he says, holding his arm out. you slide into the space, head resting on his shoulder, "you're so beautiful and i love you so much, so so much, my brain just switches off when you’re around"

"really?" you giggle, looking up at him. he hums and nods his head, a light blush rushes up his neck before taking over his cheeks, "i love you too,"

he's taller than you, forcing you onto your tip toes to kiss him, not caring when someone, emily, whoops from the bullpen. gentle hands squeeze at your waist, while you hold his face with one hand, the other resting on his shoulder

"three litres," spencer mumbles against your mouth, you pull away with a sight hum, forgetting what you'd asked of him, "you need three but it's cheaper to just buy five and have left over, now come back" he huffs, his arm wrapping tighter around you to pull you back in for another kiss

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

[rubysunnday]

take my hand

summary: as much as y/n appreciates anthony's matchmaking efforts, it's hard to accept them when he's the only man she wants. luckily for her, a fall in the lake allows her to voice her feelings in more ways than one

a/n: 4.4k of pure angst/fluff and, yes, smut

Promenading was probably one of the most pointless endeavours the ton insisted on participating in. Miss Y/N Moore loved going on walks around the city. But when she was surrounded by the ton and their watching eyes and gossiping mouths, it was hard to enjoy anything.

"Stop glowering," her mother hissed, elbowing her in the side. "Smile."

Y/N sighed. But she raised her chin and smiled politely as they walked past the Featherington family.

There was only one reason why her mother had forced her out of the house: the Earl of Newburgh.

He'd been courting Y/N since the second week of the season. They'd danced together at almost every ball, gone to museum visits together and he'd had dinner at her house. Twice.

They were practically engaged in the eyes of the ton.

Yet Y/N wasn't happy. She liked the earl, there was nothing wrong with him. He was a lovely man. But there was no spark between them. Their relationship just felt like a good friendship.

She had never confessed it to her mother, however. If she did, Y/N was certain her mother would swoon.

"I do not see the earl anywhere," her mother muttered, rising up on to her tiptoes.

Y/N tugged on her arm and forced her back down. "He might not be here yet, mama."

"He did invite you to promenade with him, yes?"

"Yes -"

"Then why is he not here?"

Y/N kept quiet. Sometimes, when her mother got annoyed, she talked to herself, grumbling about anything and everything. It was easier to let her talk aloud and not acknowledge anything - otherwise they'd end up in a fight and Y/N knew how they always ended.

As her mother kept rattling on, Y/N gazed across the crowd gathered down by the lake. There were awnings pitched up along the edge of the clearing, providing shade to the families sitting under them. It was a beautiful day and the lake had numerous boats upon it, gently gliding over the water.

Y/N's roving gaze moved past and then came back to an awning nearest the lake. It, and the carriage, were both light blue. The carriage door boasted the Bridgerton family crest and Y/N's heart stuttered.

It was as if he knew she was looking.

Viscount Anthony Bridgerton looked up. He was sat on a blanket, his youngest sister Hyacinth sat by him, tucked into his side. They were making a daisy chain together. It snaked down Anthony's legs, growing longer as Hyacinth added to it.

It was as if the world stopped for a moment, blurring everything out except Anthony.

"Y/N, darling!"

Y/N jumped slightly. She turned and saw the Earl of Newburgh walking towards her, her mother practically hanging off his arm.

"I found him!"

Y/N tried not to cringe. She kept her composure and smiled at the earl, curtseying as he approached. "My Lord."

"Would you care to promenade with me, Miss Moore?" He asked, smiling at her as he offered her his arm.

"I would love to," she replied, threading her arm through his.

Her mother giggled. Giggled. Y/N tried not to sigh but her composure must've slipped as the Earl patted her hand sympathetically.

They walked down the grass, past the families and toward the water. Y/N could feel guilt eating at her every time she glanced at the earl. She didn't want to inconvience him or hurt his feelings. But she also didn't want to trap him in a marriage that was one sided.

"Miss Moore -"

"My lord -"

They both stopped abruptly, hearing the other speak. The earl laughed, shaking his head.

"Please, go first, Miss Moore."

Y/N sighed. "My lord, I apologise but I... I would rather we remain friends than take this any further. I value you and our friendship," she added quickly, "but I just do not feel any..."

"Spark?"

Y/N smiled and nodded. "I know I am running out of time," she said quietly. "And any other woman would accept your suit and gladly become a countess. But I yearn for a love match, as foolish as that might seem. I want what so many of the ton have and I am not quite ready to give up on that idea yet."

"I do not think you should either," the earl replied. He took her hand in his. "We all deserve a chance at true love, Miss Moore. I can only hope you find it."

"As do I, my lord." She curtseyed. "I hope to see you around."

It was as if her mother knew what had just happened. As the earl walked away, Y/N turned, glancing over at her. She could see the fury on her face even from this far away. Y/N swallowed as she began to walk back to her mother, bracing herself for the fallout.

"Miss Moore!"

She stilled. The voice as achingly familiar. She could smell him and it filled her with a weird warmth.

Y/N turned. Anthony Bridgerton was standing there, hands clasped behind his back, wearing a dark blue jacket.

"Lord Bridgerton," Y/N said, curtseying.

Anthony smiled. "I was Anthony last week," he said, moving closer.

"My mother is watching," Y/N replied softly. She risked a glance over her shoulder. "I just ended things with the Earl of Newburgh."

"Why?"

Y/N turned back to face him. She shrugged. "There was no spark."

Anthony nodded once. He glanced over her shoulder. "Well, would you like to come out onto the lake with me?" He asked, extending his hand out. "To escape your mother for a moment?"

Y/N looked at his bare hand. Slowly, she placed her own bare hand in his, letting him guide her hand to the crook of his elbow. She could feel the warmth of his body even through the dark blue wool of his jacket.

They began to walk towards the dock set up on the edge of the lake. The sun emerged from behind the clouds, sparkling off the water for a moment before disappearing again.

Anthony held her hand as she stepped into the boat. He kept her steady as it rocked, not letting go until she did. Y/N sat down on the chair built into the boat. Anthony sat down opposite her, grabbing the oars.

One of the workers untied them from the dock and gave them a gentle push out onto the lake. Anthony began to row, the oars splashing in and out of the water. Y/N sighed, relaxing back against the cushions, grateful to have escaped her mother's wrath for a moment.

Anthony was quiet for a while. He rowed them away from the dock, weaving through the other boats on the lake.

"What made you deny the earl?" Anthony asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over them.

Y/N exhaled softly, letting her hand trail through the water. "There was no spark," she replied. "I felt nothing but friendship towards him."

"What is it you look for?"

"A love match," Y/N replied, taking her hand out the water and shaking the droplets off. "Despite how foolish it may seem, I yearn for a love match. One that matches the stories I read when I was younger. Whilst I know it will probably never happen, younger me isn't quite ready to give up on the idea yet."

"I do not think it foolish," Anthony said softly. He slowed the oars, holding them loosely in his hands. "Nor do I think you should give up on it."

Y/N found his gaze. The intensity of it almost took her breath away.

"I must admit, however, that I do not think the earl would have made a good match."

His words snatched her out of her dream. Y/N stared at him, affronted.

"Whatever does that mean?" She asked.

"Well, he lives in Scotland -"

"Do you have some personal vendetta against Scotland?"

"Other than the bagpies and the tartan and the constant rain?"

"Anthony, have you ever been to Scotland in your life?"

"Colin has."

Y/N sighed. "Your brother does not count." She paused. "Is Scotland the only reason?"

"Oh, I have a whole list."

"Oh for goodness sake."

Y/N knew Anthony had a soft spot for her. They'd been friends since she'd come out two years previously. He'd been a desired match despite his whining about not wanting a wife. Her mother had forced them to dance together numerous times and soon a friendship had formed.

Even if that friendship sometimes comprised of a very judgy viscount who seemed to make who Y/N was courting his business.

"Anthony, when will you realise that you cannot control who I court?" Y/N asked softly.

Anthony began rowing them back to the dock. "I do not claim to try to."

"But you do."

"If you want me to stop, you need only ask."

"Anthony, that's not what..." Y/N sighed heavily. "I do not get a lot of choice in this world, please stop trying to control the one thing I do get to choose."

"I was not aware I was," Anthony replied, brow furrowing.

Y/N didn't want to say it. But she knew she had to.

"Well, you are," she replied gently. "I appreciate the concern but... I do not have long left to find my true love. And you, Viscount Bridgerton, are not helping things."

She knew it was a low blow. All Anthony wanted to do was protect her. But he kept scaring off countless suitors - sometimes before Y/N could even speak to them. It was a miracle the earl had managed to bypass Anthony at all.

The boat hit the dock. Y/N looked at Anthony and could see the muscles in his jaw clenching. He cleared his throat and stood up, pulling his jacket down.

Anthony climbed out the boat and crouched down, tying the rope back to the dock. He said nothing. Y/N hated the silence. She'd upset him, she knew that.

But she could not allow him to keep matchmaking for her when the only one she wanted was him. It hurt to see him try to marry her off to another man. All she wanted to do was be with him.

She'd denied it for months. The feelings that had begun to blossom inside her. They had become uncontrollable now, taking over her entire being whenever she saw him.

She was in love with Anthony Bridgerton.

The man who was against love, against marriage, against happy ever afters. He had made his intentions clear and Y/N knew he was not going to back down on them for her.

Her heart belonged to him and he didn't even know it.

Anthony held out his hand to her. "Miss Moore."

"Lord Bridgerton." She placed her hand in his.

Y/N stepped out of the boat and onto the dock. As she did so, she glanced down at their hands, fingers still holding on to one another.

Neither one of them wanted to let go. Even as the seconds ticked by. Anthony ran his thumb along her knuckles, hovering over the ring she wore on her middle finger.

Then, as if struck by lighting, they pulled apart. Y/N and Anthony both took a step back together, not realising another couple were directly behind them.

There was a yelp of surprise. It was a tangle of limbs and ropes and suddenly, Y/N found herself hitting the water. For a moment, she was blinded, but then she found her way upright and surfaced.

She turned her head, catching the splash as Anthony awkwardly surfaced from the depths of the lake, arms wheeling. The other man they'd knocked into the water was glowering at them but Y/N didn't care.

In fact, she was finding the entire situation highly amusing.

A crowd had gathered at the edge of the dock, her mother among them. Anthony was angrily shedding his jacket and cravat, slinging them into the water.

Y/N made the mistake of looking over.

His white shirt was near see through thanks to the water. It clung to his torso, highlighting the muscles and giving her a near clear view of everything.

Her cheeks began to burn and Y/N turned away quickly.

"Anthony, are you okay?"

Y/N looked up at the dock. Daphne Bridgerton, Anthony's sister, was stood at the edge, looking down at them, his brother Benedict next to them.

Benedict looked as amused as Y/N did at the whole situation.

"No," he grunted. "This idiot decided to tie his boat where there was no space!"

"You walked into me, my lord!"

Y/N rolled her eyes as the two man began to bicker. She half swam, half waded away back to the dock. The crowd moved back as she put her hands on the edge and pushed herself up onto it, gratefully accepting Benedict's help as he pulled her back onto dry land.

She knew she looked a mess. Her dress was covered in grime from the lake and there was a stray twig stuck in her hair. Yet she didn't seem to care.

Y/N shook her head, pulling the twig out. She looked up as Benedict straightened, giving her a smile. He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet

Y/N watched as Benedict crouched back down and offered a hand to his brother. Anthony slapped it aside, glowering at Benedict as he laughed at his brother's misfortune.

Anthony clambered back up onto the dock and snatched a towel from one of the workers hovering hesitantly nearby. He marched off, giving Y/N a tilt of the head as he passed by.

Y/N watched him leave. A shiver danced through her body and she wrapped her arms around herself. A warm jacket landed around her shoulders.

"So you have a reason to come by," Benedict whispered in her ear as he stepped back.

Y/N smiled up at him, pulling the jacket tight around her.

She knocked on the front door of Bridgerton house, Benedict's freshly laundered jacket in her hand. It wasn't long before the butler opened the door and ushered her inside, taking her calling card.

Y/N waited in the foyer for a moment, admiring the paintings and the walls. Then, the butler appeared again and guided her up the stairs to the drawing room.

"Y/N!"

She'd barely taken one step inside the room before Hyacinth came barreling at her, wrapping her arms around her waist.

"Hyacinth," Violet admonished, hurrying over. "Please do not ambush Miss Moore."

Hyacinth beamed up at Y/N before skipping away, back to her marbles.

"Miss Moore - Y/N," Violet corrected, seeing Y/N open her mouth to do so, "what do we owe the pleasure?"

Y/N held up the jacket. "I believe this is your son's." She paused. "The artistic one."

Violet chuckled, taking the jacket from Y/N. "Thank you," she replied. "I do apologise for what -"

"Oh, it was not anyone's fault," Y/N said, shrugging. "A funny accident was all it was."

Violet sighed. "I wish Anthony saw it that way. He is still rather angry at being pushed into the lake."

Y/N knew that, whilst he probably was angry at that, it wasn't the only thing. Yet, she did not say so aloud.

"I apologise for the lack of people here," Violet continued. "All of them are out. Bar Anthony, he's in his office."

"Not to worry, I only came to drop the jacket off," Y/N replied. She paused, hesitating to ask her next question.

"What is it, Y/N?" Violet asked, her mother's instinct isntantly reading the heistation on Y/N's face.

"I may have said some things to your son that upset him," she admitted softly. "I should not have done so but..." She sighed. "I cannot explain it myself, to be honest."

Violet nodded, eyes full of understanding. "You do not need to. Your relationship with Anthony is a special one. I do hope that this does not ruin it." Violet smiled. "I always think it best to be honest with someone, Y/N. Even if it's scary. It almost always helps things."

Y/N nodded. "Thank you."

As she turned to go, Violet called her name, halting her.

"His office is behind the stairs," Violet said.

Y/N smiled at the older woman. She turned and made her way down the stairs. As she got to the bottom, she turned to the right instead of heading for the front door.

It was easy to spot Anthony's office. The door was slightly ajar and she could see his jacket, abandoned on a chair by the fireplace.

Y/N knocked gently on the door.

"Just a moment, Hy," Anthony called.

Y/N stepped in, peering round the door, holding on to the edge. "Should I be flattered that you assumed I was Hyacinth?"

Anthony looked up sharply, his quill scratching along the parchment in one, thick, ink heavy line. "Miss Moore."

"I believe it was Y/N the other day," she replied, throwing his own words back at him, hoping to lighten the tension.

It didn't work.

"Why are you here?" Anthony asked, gripping his quill tightly.

"I came to return Benedict's jacket," she replied.

His reaction was obvious, despite how hard he tried to hide it. His shoulders slumped and his demeanour changed.

"Ah," Anthony replied, turning back to his papers. "Did you get lost?"

"I came to see you as well," Y/N replied. She was still hiding behind the door. "But only if you'll hear me out."

"I might."

"And if you stop being so rude."

At that, Anthony looked up again. He stood up, pushing back his chair. "What do you want, Y/N?" He asked, walking over to a cabinet and opening the doors.

"To apologise for what I said," Y/N replied, edging further into the room. "I was stressed amongst many other things and I took it out on you. Of course I value your opinion and I appreciate your assistance."

"You did not seem to the other day."

"Well, I was having conflicting feelings."

Anthony scoffed. Y/N watched him pour out a glass of whiskey and drink it in one.

Y/N sighed softly. She walked further into the room, pushing the door shut behind her. "The truth is, Anthony, that... as much as I appreciate your matchmaking skills and your assistance with this whole thing I..." Y/N trailed off.

She could still change her mind. She could still lie to him, claim innocence.

But she didn't want to.

Now was her chance to tell him. To let it all out. It would hurt. The denial would sting. But she would get over it. And then maybe, she could find another match.

"I cannot have the man I love trying to marry me off to other men when the only one I want is him."

Anthony's glass clinked against the bottle he was holding. He went very still, frozen mid-pour. Y/N let the confession settle, the silence grow. She moved closer to him, the heels of her shoes against the wooden floor the loudest sound she'd ever heard.

"I can’t get you out of my head," she admitted softly. "You haunt my dreams at night and in the day. I find myself searching for you where ever I go, yearning just to hear your voice, to feel your hand in mine… your lips against my skin.

"You torment my very being. Whenever I see you, whenever I hear you there’s a spark inside me that demands to be let out. A spark that doesn’t exist with anyone but you, Anthony."

Anthony set the bottle down and turned to face her. Y/N didn't know how she expected him to react but the tears brimming in his eyes was not high on the list.

"I know that this might not be what you wish to happen," she added quickly, stepping even closer, "and if that is the case, I will walk away right now and forget this ever happened." She paused, breathing deeply. "But I think there is something, deep down inside, that yearns for this too."

That god awful silence fell again. The clock chimed from the mantle place, indicating that it was inching close to six o'clock. Anthony stared at her. Y/N stared at him. She let her fingers grip her skirt tightly.

"I will admit," Anthony said softly, his voice hoarse, "that I have felt something too. For a long time I have denied it." He swallowed. "I loved my father deeply and his loss aches even today. I fear to love anyone else as much or to allow anyone to love me as much because I do not wish to inflict that ache on anyone else.

"But what I have discovered since meeting you, Y/N Moore, is that the ache means that the love was so great, it cannot be put into words. We know what happens in the end, yet we love anyway. It has taken me a long time to accept that. To accept that falling in love will only mean more pain, more heart ache. But for you, I am willing to accept that. For you, I am willing to love again."

Y/N couldn't breathe. At some point during Anthony's confession, her breath had been stolen away by his words.

Here they were, baring their open and broken souls to one another. It shouldn't have felt this good. It shouldn't have brought her the relief it was.

Anthony stepped closer. Y/N followed his gaze, never breaking away. He lowered his lips to hers. It was slow and delicate yet the desire was there, the need for more was there. He pressed hard, pushing her lips apart slightly, wanting even more.

Then, they broke apart. Anthony took a step back. Y/N looked at him, breathing heavily. Anthony looked at her, his dark eyes burning into her soul.

There was a moment of stillness. A moment of calm.

Then Anthony surged forward, as did Y/N. They collide. His hands wrapped around her waist as he captured her lips again. They were desperate to devour one another, to know each others bodies, to feel one another after denying their feelings for so long.

Anthony lifted Y/N up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, never once breaking their kiss. He walked back and sat her on the desk, knocking over trinkets and piles of papers. His hands were frantic, desperately undoing the hooks at the back of her dress as she undid his waistcoat.

Desire coursed through them. The need to hold one another overwhelming them both. Y/N's dress fell down from her shoulders and ended up on the floor, forgotten.

As Anthony stepped back, Y/N jumped off the desk and pulled Anthony forward by his cravat. She smiled, licking her swollen lips as she pushed him down until he was kneeling in front of her.

Anthony chuckled, his hands reaching up and pulling down her stockings from around her thighs. Her drawers followed next. Anthony's hands danced over her hips and upper thighs as he guided the material down.

Y/N's hands caressed his face and combed through his hair with her fingers as he undressed her and Anthony tried not to moan in delight. He paused as her hands came around his throat, undoing the cravat and then drifting down to his shirt.

Teasingly, Y/N pulled the edge up, letting her nail lightly drag across his skin. A tremor went through his body, desire flaring between his legs. The shirt landed on the floor next to her dress.

Anthony paused, looking at her. “I will stop if you want me to,” he said softly.

"Please don’t.”

Anthony realised just how much he liked her begging.

Y/N lowered herself to her knees, looking Anthony in the eye. He recognised the look in her eyes and he slowly lowered himself down to the floor, the rug brushing his bare back.

She knelt over him, fingers dancing over his chest. Her hands moved down, brushing between his legs. He nearly came undone there and then. Y/N undid his trousers, sliding the fabric down his legs until they were both exposed.

Y/N lowered herself onto him, a sweetness growing between her legs as she did so. She yearned to reach down and relieve it. Instead, she straightened up, resting on top of Anthony. He tilted his head back, a groan burning in his throat. He let her warm to him, to his touch, and then he arched up slightly, encouraging her movements. Y/N moved with him, their limbs becoming one, entangling with the other.

Anthony reached the horizon of his desire, feeling it's release all over. Y/N rested a hand on his chest, breathing hard. She leant down, kissing his lips, the space behind his ear, his collarbone. She brushed her hand along the side of his face, taking in every mole, every detail.

Anthony took her face in his hands. He gently guided her up, until they were both kneeling again. Then, he pushed her backwards, letting her lower herself onto the floor. Y/N laid on the rug, looking up at Anthony, her eyes caught in his gaze. He knelt over her, his knees either side of her waist, his knee brushing her bare skin.

He smirked as slowly lowered himself downward, caressing every part of her body as he went. His hands ran over her covered breasts, hovering for a moment, before moving down to her stomach. He paused at her thighs and then, when he heard her whimper, went down further, to the sweet spot that yearned to be touched.

Y/N splayed her hands out against the rug as the sweetness between her thighs was eased by hands that knew exactly what to do and a tongue that knew just where to touch.

She didn't even hear the noises she made, so absorbed in the feeling of Anthony's fingers inside her. Her hips bucked up and he pushed them back to the floor, resting his other hand against her abdomen.

Needing something to grasp onto, Y/N reached for his hand. Anthony found it and gripped it tightly, riding with her as each surge of breath came in quick succession.

Y/N arched up, her head tilted back, exposing her throat, as she crested the wave of her release. Anthony finished off as she fell back against the rug, her skin glowing with sweat.

He laid down next to her, his hand coming to lie against her chest. He could feel her heart beating through the corset she still wore.

Neither one spoke - they didn’t need to. Y/N closed her eyes and turned her head, nestling into Anthony’s neck and breathing in deeply. His cologne was stronger there, evidently where he’d rolled it on that morning. Anthony’s thumb rubbed back and forth along her back.

In stark contrast from the hunger and desire that had gripped them moments earlier, they were both settled now. Anthony’s kiss was soft on her cheek, his hands gentle as he caressed her bare skin. Y/N found herself drawing circles on his bare back, following imaginary lines along the divot of his spine.

She sighed softly and relaxed further into his embrace, closing her eyes as she listened to Anthony’s heart beating in time with hers.

She awoke hours later. The candles had burnt down and the sky was dark outside the window. She was still in Anthony’s embrace, his hand lazily flung across her stomach, fingers on her thigh. She turned her head to look at him and he blinked at her sleepily, his hair mussed.

“I suspect I might have to marry you now,” Anthony whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I suspect you might, Lord Bridgerton” Y/N replied, smiling back. She brushed her hand through his hair. “Luckily for you, I’m all yours.”

“Lucky for me indeed,” Anthony murmured, pressing his lips to hers once more. Slowly. Deliberately.

For they had all the time in the world now.

[sarahghetti]

can you pretend to be my boyfriend?; m.k.

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: the boys pretend to be your boyfriend in order to save you from a creepy stranger.

warnings: inappropriate behaviour towards the reader, female!reader.

moon knight masterlist | all masterlists

steven

you lean over the gift shop counter, eyes wide as you ask, “can you pretend to be my boyfriend?”

poor steven is just confused at first.

“pretend to be—wait, what do you mean—?”

he doesn’t get a chance to finish that thought because the man who’s been trying to flirt with you all day suddenly rounds the corner, and you’re out of time.

“there you are!” a smarmy grin, eyes looking you up and down. it makes your skin crawl. “I was worried that you might’ve left before I could get a chance to talk to you again.”

“yeah, wouldn’t want that, now, would we?” you mutter.

it clicks in steven’s brain then, though not exactly fast enough for him to come up with a retort other than, “right, yeah, right.”

the man’s attention doesn’t waver from you, however, and you squirm on the spot. time for a hail mary, you suppose, turning back to steven. “are we still good for lunch, babe?”

“oh, yes, lunch—right, of course, love,” steven nods, more confident. “I just need to finish up some last things here, if you’re willing to wait a bit?”

you’re ready to say no worries, take all the time you need when the guy scoffs, barely sparing steven a glance. “a sales clerk? really?”

“better than the wet tissue you are, bruv,” steven snaps back, so fast that he surprises himself a little. something simmers under the man’s expression, but steven’s faster. “do I need to call security?”

that finally gets to the guy, who just mutters curses under his breath before finally pissing off. your smile is genuine now when you look at steven. “thanks for that.”

“no worries—are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you nod. “don’t suppose you’re actually free right now, are you? the least I could do is buy you lunch as thanks.”

luckily for the both of you, he is, and he rounds the counter with a wide smile on his face before you lead the two of you out.

marc

he’s just waiting to place his order at a coffee shop when you walk in, some guy hot on your heels and prattling on despite your obvious discomfort.

“oh, hey, babe!” he doesn’t even realize you’re calling out to him until he meets your gaze, and the pleading look in your eyes is all he needs to understand what’s going on. “sorry I’m late.”

“it’s all good.” marc knows the drill, injecting warmth into his smile as he walks up to greet you. he gives you a small nod, letting you know that he’s got your back as he slips his hand into yours. “was worried about you for a minute there.”

“wait, are you two…?” the man looks between you, eyebrows furrowed.

“mhm.” he keeps his tone light, but is secretly watching like a hawk for any signs of escalation. when the guy’s mouth twists into a scowl, marc subtly tugs you behind him.

“you never said you had a boyfriend.” the venom in the words is terrifying, but marc doesn’t flinch.

“no need to cause a scene, man,” he says, tone amicable, but you take a peek at his face and his expression is as hard as stone. “now, if you’ll excuse us.”

marc leads you back into the line to order, squeezing your hand gently to stop you from looking over your shoulder. there’s the heavy stomping of feet before you hear the bell ring over the door as the guy leaves.

the relief is palpable. you finally let go of marc’s hand, face warm as you smile sheepishly at him. “thanks for the help. let me buy you a coffee?”

“don’t worry about it.” he shakes his head, but you offer again and, well, if you insist. he doesn’t mind spending the rest of his afternoon with you at all.

jake

he’s the one to notice your discomfort from across the pub, how you subtly shift away from the man leaning in close to speak directly into your ear.

when you meet his eyes, you mouth, help? and jake doesn’t even think twice before downing the rest of his drink and making his way to your table. he slaps a hand down onto the guy’s shoulder, making him jump. “think you’re in my seat, hombre.”

the man’s greasy smirk twitches, obviously thinking that jake is interrupting his ‘game’ or whatever the fuck. “nah, man, I’m just—”

“trying to hit on my girl, yeah, I can see that.” jake grins at him, but you get the impression that he’s baring his teeth more than anything. he looks to you, and his gaze softens. “you okay, there, baby?”

“better now,” you say, and it’s not a lie.

the guy turns to jake fully, sizing him up. “you think you’re so tough, huh?”

jake doesn’t even blink, just raises a single eyebrow as if daring for him to suggest taking the matter outside. it’s not even a competition, because the man backs off a moment later, angrily slipping out of the booth without looking back.

you don’t breathe until the guy finally leaves the building, at which point a heavy sigh falls from your lips.

“the nerve of that guy,” jake mutters, clicking his tongue.

“right?” you shake your head, then gesture to the now-vacant seat beside you. “care for a drink? I think I owe you after your help back there.”

“you owe me nothing,” he corrects, but slides in beside you anyways, taking your offer with a smile.

[ariestrxsh]

╭══• ೋ•✧๑*<♡>*๑✧•ೋ •══╮

⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, utter filth, threesome(ish), cuckhold!chris, dom!matt, use of toys, light elements of BDSM, slapping, spitting, choking, teasing, edging, praise, light humiliation, oral, fingering, masturbation, light fluff if you squint

✍️ Summary: ✍️ You and Chris have been dating a long time now, and you overhear him sharing a fantasy with Matt about wanting to watch you with another man. With Matt being the only person Chris trusts with you, he's the perfect candidate.

╰══• ೋ•✧๑*<♡>*๑✧•ೋ •══╯

"Matt, can I ask you something?" I woke up to my boyfriend Chris asking his brother with a shakiness in his voice. I must have dozed off. I was curled up on Chris' bed, and both Chris and Matt were sitting in front of me on the floor with their back facing me, playing fortnite. "You just did, idiot. But sure. What's up?" Matt responded. "Is it normal to like..." Chris started, but hesitation lingered in his voice. "Come on, spit it out, kid," Matt poked fun at him. I wasn't sure if I should alert Matt and Chris to the fact that I was awake or not. I kind of felt like I was overhearing an interaction I shouldn't be, but I didn't want to ruin the moment, and selfishly, I wanted to know what Chris was gonna ask his brother. "Is it normal to have fantasies about your girlfriend being with other men, sexually?" Chris confided in Matt. "I mean, it's not totally uncommon," Matt said, snickering at his brother's question.

My eyes widened as I heard their conversation. "Well, I really wanna watch my girlfriend with another man, but I don't know how to talk to her about it," Chris admitted. "Just ask her if she's into that kind of thing or if there's a guy she finds attractive that you guys would both trust enough to do that with," Matt suggested. "Well, there's one guy that comes to mind that I know she finds attractive that we both trust," Chris said, side-eyeing Matt. "Okay, great, then ask him," Matt replied. "I'm trying to, but he's not getting the hint," Chris said after a few seconds of silence. My jaw dropped.

Matt calmly set his controller down and looked over at Chris, "Are you saying you want to watch me fuck your girlfriend?" Matt asked, a smirk forming in the corner of his lip, and Chris couldn't tell if Matt was smiling because he was flattered or because he was about to start teasing him. "Dude, sorry. Just forget it. I can't believe I just asked that," Chris said looking at the floor, his face growing red with embarrassment. "Dude. You don't have to ask me twice. I'll fuck your girlfriend in front of you. That sounds hot as fuck," Matt was almost stunned by his own response. I felt myself growing wet while I listened to Matt eagerly say he'd fuck me. Chris looked back up at Matt, letting down his defenses.

"Just a few questions though," Matt said. "Sure," Chris answered. "Do you think she'll go for it? How do you know she's attracted to me?" "I mean, we've never directly talked about it. But the way she looks at you when she thinks no one's watching. I'm confident she wants you, bro," Chris said, smirking at his brother. Matt couldn't help but to smile as Chris stroked his ego. I didnt realize it was that obvious I was attracted to Matt, but then again, he and Chris looked even more similar than most other siblings. How could I not want them both? "Next question - what are the limits? Is there anything you're not okay with me doing?" Matt inquired. Chris mulled over the question, appreciating that Matt was actually taking this matter seriously and handling it with care. "No actually. I guess the limits would be up to her." "Last questions - are you sure? And have you thought about and accepted the consequences that could come from this decision?" "Yes, I have, and yes. I'm sure," Chris said confidently. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but I was loving the sound of it.

"What kind of things does she like in bed?" Matt asked, looking over at Chris and biting his lip. "She loves being eaten out and fingered more than any other girl I've been with," Chris chuckled to his brother, and I felt my face grow red with embarrassment. "And she loves when you talk dirty to her, especially if you call her 'good girl,' I promise it'll drive her crazy," he told Matt over the sound of their thumbs tapping against their controllers. "She like it rough? Or do you think she'd want me to be gentle?" Matt inquired, letting his imagination run wild. "Definitely slow and gentle at first, but once she starts really getting into it, she'll let you slap her around. She loves toys and restraints and shit like that," Chris giggled, and Matt devilishly smiled back in response, "good to know." It felt like a bit of an invasion of privacy as Chris spilled all the secrets about what I liked in bed to his brother, and I didn't know why, but the humiliation turned me on a little bit.

Once their conversation came to a close, I finally rolled out of bed, curled up on the floor nestled into Chris' arms, and tried to act like I didn't just hear their conversation, but it was hard, because I could barely look them in the eyes, especially Matt. The sexual tension between the three of us was so palpable. A few times, I caught Matt hungrily staring at me out of the corner of my eye. The way he was looking at me made me feel like prey he was about to hunt, and this undeniably made me soak my panties even more. I really hoped the conversation Matt and Chris just had would come to fruition, but I didn't want to get too attached to the idea in case Chris was just thinking with his dick when he said that, and if he'd get cold feet. Or if Matt would back out and suddenly think it was too weird.

A few weeks had passed, and I had pretty much given up on the fantasy that Chris would share me with his brother when he didn't mention anything to me about it. But one day, he was over at my house, and we were cuddling on my couch, watching a movie called Deep Water. Neither of us knew what the movie was about when we turned it on to watch it, but it was a really hot movie with elements that I knew Chris was wrestling with in his mind. "I have to be so honest, babe. This shit is turning me on so bad," Chris admitted in a sultry voice. "Oh yeah, why's that?" I asked, egging him on.

"Actually, I wanna talk to you about something," Chris started, pausing the movie. I gave him my full attention, taking in the sight of him, his soft, disheveled brown hair, his blue eyes, his pouty lips. "Would you ever let me watch another dude fuck you?" He finally articulated after a few moments of heavy silence, avoiding eye contact with me. "W-what?" I asked, playing dumb, hoping he would elaborate more. "I know it's a weird question. I've just been having a lot of fantasies lately. And I don't know how I'll actually react in the moment if it happens, but sometimes I think about you with another guy, and it really gets me going," he admitted, finally gaining the confidence to look up from the floor. "I mean, I've always thought a threesome with another guy would be hot," I confided in him. "Yeah? Me too. I don't know why the idea of another man getting you off and you getting him off.. it just does something to me," Chris whispered as I watched a look of desire overcome his expression. "It would be fun to make it into something more than just a fantasy," I replied, fiddling with the rip on the thigh of my jeans. "I would fucking love that," Chris said, pulling me closer to him by my waist and planting kisses on my cheek and my forehead. "Any guys you have in mind?" Chris wondered. "Just whoever you trust the most. But obviously I have to find him attractive," I responded, knowing Chris and I both already had Matt in mind, but I was too afraid to say his name on the off-chance it might hurt Chris to hear me confirm my sexual attraction to his brother. "I know the perfect guy, but it's gonna be a surprise," Chris sneered back.

A few days later, Chris invited me over. "Wear your sexiest lingerie underneath your clothes, baby. I've got big plans for you tonight," he growled into the phone. I picked out a baby pink balconette bra with lace trim and bow and a matching thong. I felt so sexy as I stood in front of the mirror, imagining how Matt would react the first time laying eyes on me like this. I threw on some sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, and I drove over to Chris' place.

After parking in the driveway, I texted him that I was there and let myself in through the unlocked front door. The house was quiet, and although Matt's car was in the driveway, I didn't see him anywhere. "Chris?" I called, as I pushed open his bedroom door. Before me was the most romantic gesture from Chris I'd ever received before. There were about a dozen lit candles in the room, there were rose petals on the bed, and he had all my favorite toys out - bed restraints, a feather tickler, and my vibrator I kept at his place. My eyes lit up as I took in the sight of it all, the best part being my gorgeous boyfriend sitting at the foot of the bed in the warm glow of the candlelight. He was in nothing but a white tank top and dark green boxers. "Chris, this is incredible," I said in a soft voice.

Chris stood up from the bed and made his way over to me. He caressed my cheek with his hand and kissed my lips. "Take off your clothes, baby. There's someone in the other room, and he requested to see you in your best lingerie and tied to the bed when he comes in," Chris said, licking his lips while he grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it up over my head. "Oh, he's gonna love seeing you in this, darling. It's gonna drive him crazy, I promise," Chris gasped, running his finger seductively over the neckline of my bra where it met my bare skin. He then tugged at the waistband of my sweats and peeked down to see what panties I was wearing. "Good girl. You understood the assignment perfectly. He's gonna cream himself when he gets a load of you," Chris gassed me up, pulling my sweats down and helping me out of them one leg at a time. He picked me up, gripping my ass while I straddled his waist. Our lips embraced one another's in a succession of deep and passionate kisses.

He carried me over to the bed and laid me down. "If at any point you feel uncomfortable and you want to stop or take a break, just use our safeword. I told him what it is too, so I promise we'll take good care of you and we won't force you outside of your limits," Chris whispered tenderly to me while he restrained all four of my limbs to the bed. I nodded. Chris' words were sweet and thoughtful, and I felt so safe knowing I was in good hands tonight. "Are you ready, baby?" He asked, looking into my eyes. I bit my lip and whispered, "So ready."

Chris ducked out of the room for a moment, and I heard him say something along the lines of, "she's ready for you." I could hardly contain my excitement as Chris walked into the room with Matt trailing behind him. I tried to look surprised. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of black boxers and a silver chain around his neck. His eyes lit up as he took in the view of me tied to the bed in my lacey pink lingerie. "Wow, ma, you look so pretty for me. This is exactly what I had in mind," Matt said to me in a hushed voice while he climbed onto the bed. He crawled between my legs, and his lips met mine. It felt a lot like kissing Chris, but he was a little more gentle, and he took his time a little more slowly, like he was savoring the taste of my lips. Matt pulled away from the kiss and looked deep into my eyes. "Chris is such a good boyfriend, wanting to make you feel as good as possible. He's so sweet for sharing this with me," Matt mumbled, while he took his fingers and started tracing circles around my clit through my underwear. I let out a soft whimper. "These are your favorite toys, huh?" Matt inquired, pulling his hand away and reaching for the feather tickler that was next to my vibrator. I watched as he guided the feather toy across my chest, the same way Chris had done with his fingers earlier. Matt smirked at me as he pulled down the cup of my bra, exposing my hard pink nipple. He started teasing it with the feathery instrument, and I gasped as he grazed over a sensitive spot. I looked over at Chris who was sitting at the foot of the bed, studying the way Matt was exploring my body. His facial expression was one of a mix of jealousy and desire, but I could tell the desire had a stronger hold on him.

Chris' eyes met mine and we exchanged a smile of approval as Matt took the feathery lead and trailed down my body with it. He started tickling the insides of my thighs with it, and I felt my back slightly arch as he drew it over the front of my panties. Chris' eyes kept dancing between my facial expressions and the way Matt was taunting me. "Holy fuck Matt. She loves it," Chris whispered, his eyes sparkling with amazement at how slow and controlled Matt's movements were. And Chris was right. The way Matt was teasing me was perfect, just the way I liked. Slowly, gently, sensually. After teasing me with the feathers for a little longer, Matt nestled his head between my legs and pulled my panties to the side. "Look at that pretty, pink pussy," Matt complimented me. "Can I taste her?" He asked me, looking up at me hungrily. I bit my lip and nodded.

Chris moved from the foot of the bed to my left. He pushed a few strands of hair out of my face and smoothed them down, while his eyes followed the way Matt gently planted a kiss on my sensitive bud. He kept his tongue soft and flat as he grazed my folds. I loved having my pussy licked, and the only thing better than that was Chris intently watching as Matt teased me with his warm breath against my aching core. "Do you like that?" Chris spoke hoarsely into my ear. "Mhmmm," I hummed in response to Chris' question as well as to Matt's tongue. Matt flicked his tongue across my clit a little more fervently, and finally he closed his lips around it and started gently suckling. "That looks like it feels amazing," Chris said, pressing the side of his head against the side of my head watching his brother from my perspective. Matt looked up at both me and his brother, knowing we were loving watching him and smiled deviously at us. "You like the way I eat your girlfriend?" Matt seductively asked his brother, lifting his face from between my legs to show Chris how wet his face was from drowning in my juicy center. Then he continued, swirling his tongue in faster circles around my bundle of nerves. Chris slowly nodded.

The way Matt was working his mouth had me starting to come undone a bit. I tried to hold back some whimpers, but they were stronger than I was. I felt myself tugging at the restraints, cutting off circulation in my wrists, and had my feet not also been tied down, I would have been bucking my hips against his face. Instead, I pathetically struggled to chase his tongue, unable to move the way I wanted to, which had me coming undone even further. Matt could tell exactly what he was doing to me, and he relished in it, loving that the sounds and the writhing beneath him were all his fault.

Before I could finish on his tongue, he abruptly stopped and started lining up his middle and ring finger with my entrance. He looked into my eyes as he pushed them in, curled them upward, and started making a "come here" motion with them. I gasped at how good it felt. I could feel myself gripping him involuntarily, and while he penetrated me, I felt his thumb reach for my bud, and he started making slow, circular motions. "How does that feel, sweetheart? You like the way you're all wrapped around my fingers?" Matt cooed, knowing there was a double entendre in his words. "Yesss," I hissed through my teeth. Chris took my left nipple into his mouth and started carressing it with his tongue, pulling a few more stifled whimpers from my mouth. I loved being shared by them. Although they were both being so slow and gentle, I felt myself starting to get close again.

I didn't know if Matt could tell I was getting close and he was trying to draw it out for as long as possible, or if his timing was just coincidentally impeccable, but right before I could chase my climax, Matt removed his fingers, and looked up at his brother. "You wanna taste?" He asked, reaching out his hand that was glittering with my fluids. Chris grabbed Matt's hand, and while looking into his eyes, he put Matt's two fingers all the way into his mouth and slowly sucked them clean, letting out a soft moan as he did so that vibrated against his brother's fingertips. Matt stared at his brother glossy-eyed, and his lips slowly parted as he felt the hum of the noise Chris made send an electric feeling throughout his body. Matt pulled his hand away, realizing how awkward it was that they had just done that, but they quickly laughed it off, and they blushed at whatever had come over them, but I, on the other hand, nearly came at the sight of Chris cleaning me off of Matt's fingers.

Matt filled me with them again, fucking me at a faster pace this time. My body was aching. My wrists and ankles were so sore from being digging into me as I struggled against them, but I loved it, the sensation of pain and pleasure blurring together and creating a chemical reaction inside of me that was bound to make me explode sooner or later. I convulsed again as Matt brought me right to finish line, and then stopped again.

I let out a desperate sigh, "Matt please," I sobbed as he teased me. "Jesus Matt. I brought you into the bedroom with us to make her feel good, not to torture her," Chris chuckled. "Oh, trust me, she feels good. And by the time I get her there, she'll be feeling better than anyone's ever made her feel before," Matt said, reaching for the vibrator next. "Hey-" Chris started defensively. "Shut up, idiot. This isn't the time to argue about who makes your girlfriend cum harder. Just let her enjoy it," Matt whispered, turning on the vibrator and resting it up against my favorite spot, and I cooed in response.

"Hey baby, you ever think about me when you use one of these on yourself?" Matt's lip curled up in the corner as he questioned me. My eyes widened, and I looked to Chris for some kind of approval that he wouldn't take it personally. "It's okay, darling. Just be honest unless you don't wanna answer," Chris said, running the back of his hand along my cheek, sensing my discomfort. I looked back down at Matt, who was awaiting a response. I bit my lip and shook my head yes at him. "Mmmm, good girl. Good answer," Matt murmured. "Tell Matt what kinds of things you think about him doing, princess," Chris pleaded, stroking his length through his boxers. He wanted to hear just as much as Matt did.

My eyes scanned both of their expressions, hanging onto my every last word, but a shyness overtook me. My face started burning with shame as I pictured in my head all the times I'd imagined Matt pinning me down, choking me, spitting in my mouth, slapping me, pounding my pussy while I'm hogtied. The stark difference between those violent fantasies and the soft gentle reality unfolding in front of me made me feel a little embarrassed to admit them. I shook my head no and began avoiding eye contact with both of them. "Awh, sweetheart. You're getting all shy on me," Chris said, tilting my head towards him with a finger beneath my chin. I could still feel the hum of the vibrator nagging at me, begging me to come undone while the boys watched me intently. Just like every other time, Matt stopped.

He stood up and pulled down his underwear, his cock springing out of them. I could tell he was extremely hard, and there was a shiny coat of pre-ejaculate covering his swollen tip. I admired how thick it was and how there were a few veins that ran up his shaft, like a big red-eyed monster I couldn't wait to fall victim to. "I bet you can't wait to have him in you," Chris whispered to me, kissing my neck. "You don't have to tell me what you think about when you play with yourself," Matt told me as he climbed onto the bed and hovered over my emptiness with his incredible member, "but if you tell me, angel, then I'll be able to oblige." He let out a grunt as he pushed himself into me, and I gasped. He slowly pumped in and out of me, allowing me to get used to his girth while his chain lightly swatted me.

Chris was next to us, removing his shirt, taking himself out of his underwear, and making soft sounds and sultry faces while he stroked his cock. "I like to think about you spitting in my mouth and choking me and pulling my hair and fucking me absolutely mercilessly," I whispered while I was looking into Matt's eyes. I watched Chris' eyes widen as he continued furiously pumping his hand up and down.

Matt's face changed to a darker and more deviant expression. He placed his hand on my neck, pushed me down against the bed, and said, "Open up, darling." He spat directly into my mouth, and the taste of his saliva, mine, and taste of my pussy lingered on my tastebuds. He did it again, relishing in how much I loved it. I felt another stream of his spit land on my tongue, and he smiled at me as he started to tighten his grip around my neck. He choked me hard while he started fucking me at a slow but insanely powerful rhythm. Every time he bottomed out inside of me, slamming against my walls, I let out a stifled yelp due to his tight hold on my throat. He removed his hand from my airway and smacked me across my face hard. "Yeah, you like that?" Matt grunted while he fucked me harder, and I felt another sting as he slapped the other side of my face. My eyes rolled back in my head and I smiled.

Chris was still fervently jacking himself off while his brother brutalized me in front of him. The boys had a similar expression on each of their faces, heavy bedroom eyes, slack-jawed, lips slightly parted enough for sweet whimpers to escape them, and both enamored by the way my eyes were tearing up with pleasure.

I was the first to reach my climax, considering Matt had been teasing me more than I'd ever been teased in my whole life. My long-awaited orgasm hit me like a train, my consciousness expanding beyond time and space until I was utterly lost in a cascading wave of ecstacy. I had no control over my body. I trembled and pulled at the shackles that were holding me to the bed, breaking some of the skin on my wrists. My eyes rolled back so far into my head I forgot I had them to begin with, and my neck fell limp so that my crown thumped away at the headboard every time Matt thrust into me after that. My whole body relaxed into the bed, as much as it could while I was still tied to it. "Oh my fucking god Matt," I said breathlessly.

Chris came a few seconds later with his hand curled around the engorged head of his cock, milking it vigorously while he threw his head back and let out a sweet-sounding moan. The first spurt of cum shot up nearly two feet in the air and rained back down on him, covering his stomach, his chest, and a drop of it landing on his bottom lip. With every pump, he'd shoot out another load not nearly as powerful as the last until he'd slowed his hand to a standstill and the last spurt of fluid was just slowly dripping down his hand and his shaft. I had never seen Chris cum like that, and I burned the sight of him into my brain.

Matt's orgasm followed closely behind, and for the few minutes after Chris had finished, he watched in envy as his brother railed me senseless. Finally, as Matt was looking into my eyes, his brow furrowing, and his face contorting into an "O" shape, he pulled himself out of me. A millisecond later, he was stroking himself, busting all over my entrance. He moaned my name and rolled his eyes into the back of his head while he finished. He was smiling like an idiot, panting, and looking down at the mess he'd made on my pussy with great satisfaction.

"Holy fuck," Matt managed to get out breathlessly. "I've never been able to make her cum like that," Chris said with a harsh edge of jealousy. "You could. Easily. I've heard you guys fooling around before. You definitely satisfy her. You just gotta edge her more. You build her up, you break her down, do it over and over again until she can't take it. I'll show you how sometime if you'd like," Matt offered.

Chris' stomach turned, not sure how to wrestle with the cognitive dissonance he was experiencing of loving how I came all over Matt's cock and hating how I came all over his cock, and wondering if I was even still his after that, or if I was going to fall in love with Matt. Chris looked down at the floor, defeated and wondering how he could feel two completely different ways simultaneously. Matt untied me from the bed, and I immediately went over to Chris and threw my arms around him.

"Thank you for letting me experience that. Thank you for being so secure in our relationship that you'd share me with someone to enhance both of our pleasure. I'm so in love with you," I said, pulling him into a kiss. Chris perked up hearing this. "I love you too," he whispered back. "Let's do something tonight. Just the two of us," I said smiling.

[beiasluv]

mini norris | l. norris (4)

a/n: i hateeee pregnancy trope but ughhh 😩 wrap it before you tap it 😘

“Oh, you’re feisty, yes, you are–”

Babysitting Oliver’s baby girl was not on your plan today, but you couldn’t complain. Not that Lando was her favorite – and only – uncle.

She cooed and giggled as Lando squeezed her in a hug, the widest smile you've ever seen spread across his face as he giggled with her. And It quickly became clear that Lando wanted the little pitter-patter of baby feet on the hardwood floor to be something more temporary than you expected.

As he turned to look up at you, his dull blue eyes sparkling in the dim light. He’d like to believe he’s over the clubbing phase, more than he’d like to admit. Well – everything was faster than he expected. But it felt right with you.

“You know yn…” he started. “I've been thinking–”

“Lan.”

You gave him the look, sighing softly before taking Mila away from him as she made a grabbing motion towards you – as if saying she was done with her uncle.

“…shouldn’t we think harder about this?”

“I’ve been thinking hard about it,” he pouted, brushing the hair away from her face.

“Sure you did,” you scoffed back. Mila cooing as you bounced her up and down, patting her small back, hoping some of the gas would come up.

“I know it's impulsive, but it feels right. And...” he paused. “...you haven't even said you hated the idea.”

You let the idea sunk in…biting your bottom lips nervously before Lando reached out to wipe the corner of the toddler’s mouth – pumpkin purée to be exact.

“I’m the one getting pregnant here,” you huffed before giving him a look.

“I know,” he smiled, even his eyes lighted up.

“We can do it together. Every little step along the way,” he smiled sincerely. “And besides…” Lando teased, raising an eyebrow before leaning over to swipe some of the pumpkin purée that had ended up on your cheek. He smiled softly to himself as he ran his thumb along your jawline before leaning in to kiss that spot.

“You'll look so hot, all pregnant.”

“Lando– I love you–” you chuckled in disbelief. “But I don’t think I would feel hot carrying a little person inside me.”

“But you will, just watch,” he stopped you, pressing in closer to you and Mila – who just cooed in disagreement, taking her little hand and pushing her uncle Lala away from your personal space. Cackling in satisfaction as she bounced up and down in your arms.

“See, she thinks you’re wrong,” you smiled, cooing the toddler.

“You have no sense of romance, little miss." Lando grinned as he reached for Mila again, his eyes full of mischief as he tried to steal a laugh out of her. "Come here you,” reaching for her and swinging her around in circles as he tried to tickle her.

She giggled and tried to get away from him, fighting as hard she could against his playful grasp.

“Once you learn how to change the diapers, we could talk,” you smiled, looking at the niece and her uncle – tickling each other into a giggling mess. Lando snapping his head up as his messy, curly brown hair fell out of place.

“Then you get ready tonight baby.”

——

“She’s a healthy looking girl.”

When he’d finally broke down your wall and you told him you were ready, he didn’t need to be told twice before whisking you into the bedroom.

And it wasn’t was expected that you’d showed up pregnant at the paddock, hand-in-hand with the McLaren driver. But sharing the experience it with him was the best part – well, for now, until you’ll get to meet your sweet little pea.

“You're... you're so...”

Lando’s words caught in his throat as he stood behind you, watching you check at yourself in the mirror. The way the body-fitted white shirt hugged your body was stunning. The way it clung to every single curve, emphasizing how beautiful your bump looked, how full your breasts have gotten. And definitely the way how full your stomach looked with the denim skirt underneath it.

He really did that, no?

He reached out to squeeze your sides and wrap his arms around your waist.

“You’re so…hot, mama”

“Barely feel like it,” you smiled. “I’ve got my stomach sticking out to the world,” turning to kiss his cheek behind you.

Lando grinned, squeezing your sides gently.

“That's the thing, you look hot in everything…just hotter when your stomach sticks out,” he revealed passionately, leaning down to kiss your neck.

He knew how it made you feel insecure about yourself, which he thought was silly because it only made you look more beautiful to him.

The change in your body was something he was adjusting to as well. The way the way your waistline had curved in, the way your hips had widened. He placed the palm of his hand across the bump on your stomach, gently rubbing it.

"We can always get new clothes," he told you, smiling warmly. "But, honestly. You’re just so...sexy in anything.”

Before you could whisk out another sarcastic response, you felt a kick in your abdomen. Wasn’t as bad compared to period cramps but something you definitely felt a ‘kick’ to it.

“You feel that?” you winced.

“Yeah,” he smiled, tucking his chin on your neck behind you before lifting a pressure off your growing stomach. “Hurting mama already little miss?”

You smiled at the scene, scoffing before looking back at your husband, “You’re such a girl dad already.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he smirked.

“Not that like I’m going to be the strict parent while you get all lovey dovey with your baby,” you huffed jokingly.

“Someone’s gotta be the strict parent, no?” he smiled. “And I'm going to be plenty tough when she needs it.”

“But for now, I'm just excited to spoil this tiny little girl…And her mama.”

“Doubtful.”

You couldn’t only help but rolling your eyes back, tilting your neck to an angle. Turning away from him before smoothing out your lovely skirt.

And God help him because he was torn between his thirst to pull you back in and let his instincts take over or letting you finish getting ready. Deciding to let you get ready instead of making you feel like he only cared about one thing. For now, at least. That thought was enough to get him to try and behave himself for the time being.

"What about your shoes? Have you picked them out yet?" he asked, taking his eyes off of you for the first time in a while.

Knowing what he wanted. Let’s say…he has always been gentle with your baby girl inside, but he could only try so hard.

“Maybe tonight,” you smiled nonchalantly, fixing your hair in the mirror. “The adidas please?”

And you didn’t have to tell him twice, he would be down on the floor, slipping on your adidas sambas – trying his worst to wipe off that grin on his face. Gosh, you’d lie if his beard wasn’t doing things to you.

“Tonight. Definitely tonight.”

wrote it first for Logan but decided to change it for Lando??? 😬😬

– @jsjcue @namgification

y’all know the drill 😘 today’s a great day to take care of yourself!!!

[futurewdclandonorris]

The Interview | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x bsf!reader

Warnings: smut

Requested: yes

A/N: My first time writing bsf!Lando yay!!! This was a pain in the ass to edit and as twice to write. I wanted to burn it at least six times in the process, but I finally won that war and here we are. I don't hate it, but don't necessarily like it either, but I hope that's only because I read it like 945437 times and already know every sentence by heart 💀 and that you will actually enjoy it <3

Interviewing your best friend, how hard could it actually be? As you sat across from Lando Norris in the cozy McLaren hospitality, you realized that interviewing him was proving to be much more challenging than you had anticipated. Especially when he was looking like that.

Sweats and hoodies were his all time go to whenever he was at home, and you have seen him wearing it numerous times. But that morning when he came to pick you up from your hotel room, you didn’t expect that exact outfit to be the one to leave you stunned.

As you tried to ignore how effortlessly good he looked, in white sweatpants and a light grey jumper that showcased his lean physique, and curls of his hair falling in just the right way over his forehead, you cleared your throat and focused on the notes in front of you. But as Lando flashed you a charming smile and leaned back in his chair, all thoughts of the interview questions went out the window.

“So, what do you want to know that you already don’t?” Lando asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"So, Lando," you began, trying to keep your voice steady, "what do you think sets McLaren apart from the other teams on the grid this season?"

"I think what really sets us apart is our team spirit," he replied. "We have an incredible group of people working together towards a common goal, and that camaraderie is something special." Lando flashed you yet another one of his charming smiles.

His words were filled with passion, and it was impossible not to be captivated by the way his voice drew you in. Despite being your best friend, there was something different about seeing him in his element, fully immersed in his love for the sport.

"It's no secret that you have a huge following on social media," you continued, steering the conversation towards a lighter topic. "How do you handle the pressure of always being under the spotlight?"

Lando chuckled softly before replying, "Oh, you know, I just try to be myself and have fun with it. The fans are amazing, and I'm grateful for all their support. Plus, it helps that my memes game is strong," he added with a wink.

"You definitely have some iconic meme moments," you agreed with a laugh, feeling more at ease now that the conversation had shifted to something more familiar. But beneath the banter and playful exchanges, you couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that there was something Lando wasn't telling you.

Throughout the interview, you noticed subtle shifts in Lando's demeanor whenever certain topics came up. His jokes became more frequent, his sarcasm sharper, as if he was intentionally deflecting your inquiries. You made a mental note to revisit those moments later, but for now, you decided to go with the flow and enjoy the time with your best friend.

Leaning forward, you fixed him with a steady gaze and said, "Let's talk some more about you. It’s the beginning of a new season and fans are eager to know what your goals are for the upcoming races. Can you share with us what you hope to achieve this year?"

For a moment, there was a flicker of seriousness in his eyes before he smirked and replied, "I hope to give all the other drivers a head start, just to make things interesting," Lando quipped with a mischievous grin.

You chuckled at his response, recognizing the familiar playful tone he always carried. But beneath the humor, you sensed a hint of determination in his eyes. Pushing further, you pressed on, "Come on, Lando. We all know you're not one to settle for anything less than the best. What are your real aspirations for this season?"

“You already know what my aspirations are, y/n. Can’t you just make something up?”

“Of course I can’t. What if I put together a statement and then you tell a different version of events to another journalist?”

Lando chuckled, shaking his head at your persistence. “And what makes you think I wouldn’t lie to them? Other reporters aren’t my friends so I think it’s actually you who’s in advantage here.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you shot back, "Oh, so now I'm the lucky one getting the inside scoop, huh? Well alright, if you’re already so tired of answering my questions, how about we take a break and take some pictures for the article? I also heard you got a new helmet you’ll be wearing for testing as a tribute to Gil de Ferán, right? Let's capture that moment."

Lando's eyes lit up with enthusiasm at the mention of his new helmet design. He eagerly agreed, and the two of you made your way to the McLaren garage where his helmet awaited. As he carefully lifted it up, you couldn't help but admire the intricate details and the thoughtful tribute to the racing legend. Lando slipped it on with a sense of pride, and you couldn't resist snapping a few photos of him posing confidently in front of his car.

“Let’s go out to the track and have some shots of you and the helmet there. You could sit on the pit wall and hold it in your lap while admiring it,” you suggested, already envisioning the striking images that would accompany your article. Lando flashed you a grateful smile, appreciating your creativity and dedication to capturing the essence of his racing journey.

Lando perched on the pit wall, his expression a mix of focus and determination as he cradled the helmet in his hands. The vibrant colors of the design shone brightly against the backdrop of the racing circuit, a visual representation of Lando's respect for the sport's history and his aspirations for the future.

You snapped photo after photo, each frame telling a story of passion, ambition, and unwavering dedication.

“You’re choosing some interesting angles,” Lando teased as you were crouching down to get a shot from a lower perspective.

You couldn't help but smile at his lighthearted comment, your cheeks flushing with a warmth that had nothing to do with the scorching sun beating down on the track. Lando's voice had a way of enveloping you, drawing you in like a magnet and as you adjusted your position to capture another shot, your eyes inadvertently lingered on his hands, noticing the way his fingers traced the curves of the helmet with a gentle reverence.

You always thought Lando had beautiful hands, but in that very moment you couldn’t help but think what it would be like if those hands touched you. Really touched you.

The professional journalist in you was focused on capturing the perfect shots and telling Lando's story through the lens of your camera. But the other part of you, the part that had known Lando for years and cherished his friendship above all else, was struggling to keep up with the sudden surge of desires and thoughts that threatened to unravel your composure.

Lando's easy laughter and playful banter did little to ease the tension building within you. With each click of the camera, his presence seemed to grow more magnetic, his features more captivating. You couldn't deny the allure of his smile, the intensity in his gaze, or the way his energy seemed to envelop you in a cocoon of warmth.

While you reviewed the photos on your camera, Lando leaned in closer to get a glimpse as well. The heat of his body so near sent a shiver down your spine, and you hastily cleared your throat, trying to dispel the sudden rush of emotions coursing through you. But Lando was oblivious to your inner turmoil, his attention fully focused on the images displayed on the screen.

"These look amazing, y/n," he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with genuine excitement.

"Thank you, Lando," you managed to reply, your voice sounding slightly breathless even to your own ears. Clearing your throat once more, you added, "We should head back. You still owe me some answers.”

As you walked back towards the McLaren hospitality unit, Lando slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a playful headlock. "You know, y/n, for someone who claims to be a professional interviewer, you're not half bad as a photographer either," he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You chuckled, swatting his arm away with mock indignation. "Hey now, don't let my talents overshadow your own star power. I'm just here to make sure the world sees the real Lando Norris in all his glory, on and off the track," you quipped back with a grin, the easy banter between you a testament to the years of friendship that had only grown stronger through the shared journey in the fast-paced world of Formula 1.

As you reached the hospitality unit, Lando released you from the headlock and held the door open with a flourish. "After you, madam photographer," he said with a mock bow, his eyes dancing with a mischievous gleam.

You both entered the bustling hospitality area, filled with team members preparing for the upcoming race weekend. The familiar sights and sounds enveloped you, a comforting blend of adrenaline and excitement that always accompanied a race day.

The familiar faces of the McLaren team greeted you warmly, their camaraderie palpable in every interaction. Lando's presence only added to the vibrant ambiance, his infectious laughter drawing others to join in.

Taking a seat at one of the tables, you watched as Lando engaged in animated conversations with his teammates, his passion for racing evident in every gesture and expression. It was moments like these that reminded you why you were drawn to motorsport in the first place—the sense of community, the thrill of competition, and the shared pursuit of excellence.

“Sorry for leaving you like that,” Lando said, sliding into the seat across from you, “but duty calls. It’s time to jump in the car. We can finish the interview later tonight, if that’s alright?”

"Of course, go do your thing out there on the track. We'll pick up where we left off," you replied, giving him an encouraging smile.

You stayed for a while, watching him drive and snapping a few more photos of his swift maneuvers on the track, each turn and acceleration a testament to his skill behind the wheel. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the circuit as the day drew to a close and you decided to go back to the hotel and edit the material you’ve gathered so far.

Having spent the whole day on track in the glowing sun, you first took a shower and got more comfortable in your pajama shorts and loose top before settling down at the small desk in your hotel room. The soft glow of the lamp bathed the room in a warm light as you organized your notes and sifted through the photos from today's shoot. Lando's vibrant energy leapt off the screen, each image a kaleidoscope of emotions and determination captured in still frames.

Lost in thought, you were startled by a knock on the door. Puzzled, you made your way over and peered through the peephole to see Lando standing outside, a sheepish grin on his face. And he was back in that damn outfit from before.

Despite the late hour, you couldn't suppress a smile at the sight of Lando standing at your door, his eyes alight with a mischievous glint. Opening the door, you raised an eyebrow in mock admonishment.

“Look who decided to show up. I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me,” you quipped, stepping aside to let him in.

“Never,” he replied with a grin, making himself at home in your hotel room. “Besides, I thought we could finish that interview now that I'm all fresh and ready to spill some secrets," you couldn't help but notice the way he moved with an easy familiarity, as if he had been in this space countless times before. “Oh, sorry, were you getting ready for bed?” he asked, as if only now noticing your comfortable attire, his gaze lingering on your bare legs a little longer than necessary, before innocently looking you in the eyes with a small smile.

Ignoring the flutter in your chest at his gaze, you shook your head with a chuckle.

“Not at all, I was actually working. You should see your helmet shots on a big screen. They turned out to be amazing.” you gestured as you took a seat at your laptop to show him.

Lando leaned over your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck as he peered at the screen. You couldn't help but notice the closeness between you, the shared intimacy of the moment sending a chill down your back.

“Wow, these look incredible,” Lando breathed, his voice low with awe. ”You really have an eye for capturing the moment.”

His praise sent a flush of warmth to your cheeks, a mixture of pride and something else you couldn't quite name. As you scrolled through the images together, Lando's hand brushed yours accidentally, sending a jolt of electricity through you both.

Clearing your throat and trying to ignore the nervous flutters, you turned to face him. "So, about those secrets you promised to spill..."

Lando's eyes sparkled mischievously as he settled into the armchair beside you, his gaze intense as he studied your face. For a moment, there was a weighty silence that hung between you, thick with unspoken words and unexplored emotions. You could sense a shift in the air, as if the room itself held its breath in anticipation of what he might reveal.

Finally, breaking the tension with a casual shrug, Lando chuckled softly. "Alright, alright. What do you want to know?" he asked playfully, though there was a glint of vulnerability in his eyes that you couldn't ignore.

Seeing him sit there casually in that armchair and in those sweatpants with legs spread lightly made your breath a little quicker. Taking a deep breath and clearing your throat, you busied yourself with your notebook to keep you from looking at him. “So,” you started, flipping through pages. “We have a few unanswered questions left...”

You couldn’t help but feel a rush of nerves at his intense stare, and you mechanically placed a hand on the back of your neck, stretching it out slightly. Lando's gaze followed the movement, his expression softening as he reached out to gently touch your hand, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your skin. The simple gesture sent a shockwave of warmth through you, the soft brush of his touch awakening a hunger you tried to suppress the whole day.

“Nervous?” he asked, his tone low.

You chuckled, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “Why would I be nervous? It’s not my first time conducting an interview.”

Lando's gaze lingered on you, his eyes searching yours with a depth that made your heart race. "Maybe it's not the interview that's making you nervous," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. The air between you crackled with tension, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the room as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin.

Your mind raced with a million thoughts, emotions swirling within you as you met his gaze, feeling as though you were on the precipice of something unknown yet undeniably thrilling. In that moment, all the barriers you had carefully constructed around your heart began to crumble, revealing a vulnerability you had long kept hidden.

“I noticed the way you were looking at me out on the track today,” Lando murmured, his voice husky with unspoken desire. “It wasn't just the photographer's gaze anymore, was it?” His hand lingered on yours, a silent question hanging in the air. “Especially when you crouched down to get those low angle shots of the helmet. I could feel your eyes on me longer than necessary. You didn’t do it because you wanted to capture the shot perfectly, did you?” he continued, his gaze searching yours for any sign of confirmation. “No, you did it because you wanted to be on your knees for me, to be close to me, to feel the heat of my body as you snapped away at your camera. Admit it,” Lando's voice was a whisper, causing a flurry of emotions to swirl inside you.

His words were like a sharp blade, slicing through the air and laying bare a hidden longing that had been bubbling beneath the surface, waiting to be acknowledged. You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of what he had just said settling in the space between you.

“Even this, you inviting me into your dimly lit room—”

“I don’t like big lights,” you interjected, as you tried to regain some semblance of control over the situation.

But he continued as if you hadn't said anything. “—in your silky pajama shorts and that flimsy tank top that leaves little to the imagination,” Lando said, his voice dropping even lower as he leaned closer, his gaze smoldering.

“I was getting myself comfortable—”

“Of course, you’re smart and already have a reason for everything I point out,” Lando's gaze softened at your words, a flicker of understanding passing between you as he reached out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness of his touch sent a wave of sensation to travel down your spine, reigniting the fiery connection between you. “But I am your best friend, and I know you. You can try as much as you want, but you can’t hide the truth from me,” Lando murmured, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek as he leaned in, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to yours. “I know you inside out.”

His words hung in the air, the tension between you palpable as you both teetered on the edge of something unspoken yet undeniably present. And maybe. Maybe he was right. Intentionally or not, you did know he was coming.

In that charged moment, with your heart pounding in your chest, you made a choice. You took him by the collar of his shirt and smashed your lips together. You pulled him with such force that he stumbled forward, but he quickly found balance by taking a handful of your hair and pulling you closer, deepening the kiss with a hunger that matched your own. The kiss was electric, a surge of raw desire and pent-up emotions finally breaking free. The world around you faded away as you lost yourself in the intoxicating taste of him, the warmth of his lips searing through you like a wildfire.

Every touch, every caress, ignited a blazing need within you, a longing that had been buried for far too long. As you melted into each other, the boundaries that had kept you apart crumbled, leaving only the raw, primal connection that bound your souls together.

As the kiss broke, you both gasped for air, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. Lando's eyes bore into yours, a mixture of surprise, craving, and something deeper that stirred within his gaze.

“Is this what you wanted?” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the tense stillness that enveloped you both.

“I wanted to kiss you first, but god, you’d beat me to it,” a low chuckle escaped his lips as he spoke. There was a hint of amusement in his eyes, but beneath it lay a raw vulnerability that mirrored your own. In that moment, as you gazed into each other's eyes, you knew that nothing would ever be the same between you.

You reached out to touch his face, your fingers tracing the contours of his jawline as if committing every detail to memory. The room felt as though it had shrunk, leaving just the two of you in your own intimate world where words were no longer needed.

“Then kiss me,” you breathed.

Lando's lips met yours in a frenzy of passion, each kiss deepening the connection that had ignited between you. His hands dug into your shirt, pulling you closer as if trying to erase any remaining distance between you. You responded with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss, a surge of emotions overwhelming your senses.

He picked you up in his arms and carried you to the bed, laying you down gently, your laughter mingling with his in the heated moment. As he joined you on the mattress, his lips trailed down to your neck, your skin tingling at his touch, and you moaned softly as his teeth grazed your sensitive skin. A shiver ran through your entire body, and you arched into him, inviting him further.

He took the invitation, his hands exploring every inch of your body, his touch feather light at times, then rougher, aching to leave his mark upon you. Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers traveled over your chest, igniting a wave of heat inside you. Each touch left a trail of fire, intensifying the sensation.

His mouth found its way to your lips again, his tongue darting out to taste you, and you met him eagerly, your tongues twining together in a frenzied dance. The room was filled with the sound of your breaths mixing, your hearts pounding in sync, as you lost yourself in each other's embrace.

Lando's body pressed against yours, his heat searing through your clothes, making your skin feel like it was sizzling. You could feel his hardness brushing against your core, making you moan softly, yearning for more.

Your hands found their way to his back, pulling him closer, needing the intimacy that only skin-to-skin contact could provide. His mouth gently moved down the curves of your neck, leaving a tantalizing trail of kisses that sent sparks of exhilaration coursing through your body. You arched your back yet again, wanting more of his touch, more of his attention.

Slowly, he lifted your shirt, revealing your stomach, and you felt a sudden rush of heat between your legs. His eyes locked onto your bare skin, a hunger gleaming in them. You knew he was seeing all of you, every flaw and imperfection that made you, you. But he didn’t care; he wanted you just the way you were.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. You could feel the sincerity in his words, and a wave of vulnerability washed over you. This wasn’t just about the physical attraction; it was about the emotional connection you had built over time.

He kissed your stomach, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. You wanted him closer; you wanted to feel his skin against yours. You reached behind you and tugged off his shirt, revealing his muscular physique that you had always admired.

You pulled him closer, and he kissed you again, his hands wandering to your breasts, tracing the outline of your nipples through your pajama top. You moaned softly, arching your back, wanting more of his touch.

He took off your top, revealing your bare chest, and you shivered at the feeling of his rough hands on your skin. He kissed your torso, his tongue darting out to taste you, and you moaned softly, inviting him to explore more.

He trailed his lips down your stomach, leaving a path of wet kisses that made you tremble with longing. You could feel his breath on your thigh, and you knew what was coming. He traced the edges of your panties, his fingers teasing you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Lando looked up at you, his eyes filled with craving. He wanted you more than anything, and you knew it. You were his, and he was yours.

You reached down and pulled off his pants–the damn pants that started all this in the first place–revealing his erection that strained against the fabric. Your fingers grazed it, and he moaned softly, his eyes locking with yours. You could see the need in him, and it made your heart race.

You pulled off his pants, revealing his naked body, and you couldn't help but admire him. He was perfect, every inch of him, and you knew that this was what you had been waiting for. This was the moment you had been dreaming of, the moment you had been yearning for.

He laid you down gently and continued to explore every inch of your body. His fingers traced the curves of your hips, your waist, your thighs, each touch setting off a firestorm of desire within you. You moaned softly, your body arching towards his, craving his touch.

He slid his fingers between your legs, teasing your most sensitive spot, sending waves of delight coursing through you. You gasped, your breaths becoming shallow as you struggled to control the growing want inside of you.

Lando's eyes locked with yours, a mixture of lust and tenderness shining in them. He leaned down and whispered in your ear, his breath warm and sensual, “You are never to interview any other driver, you hear? You are mine. My best friend, my reporter.”

You laughed softly, the sound mingling with his as he skillfully used his hands to bring you to satisfaction. "I don't know, Lando. What if my boss wants me to do another story? What will I say then?"

“Then you do it somewhere I can see you. And you wrap it up, no inviting other drivers into your hotel room cause look what happens,” he quipped, his fingers moving faster, sending shivers throughout your body.

You gasped for air, your body trembling as you felt the waves of pleasure building up within you. You knew that you were close, that you couldn't hold back any longer. “Lando, please,” you begged, your body aching for release.

Lando's eyes met yours, a fierce intensity in his gaze. He knew what you needed, and he was more than willing to give it to you. With a sudden, forceful thrust, he entered you, filling you completely, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body.

You cried out, your breath hitching as each thrust sent you higher and higher. Lando's pace quickened, his body slamming against yours, each movement a testament of his want for you. The room was filled with the sounds of your intertwined bodies, your hearts beating in sync, lost in the moment.

“You feel so good,” Lando panted, his voice low and rough. He reached up, his hands tugging at your hair, pulling your lips to his in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged into your mouth, tasting you, possessing you.

You wrapped your legs around him, your nails digging into his back, pulling him closer, needing him deeper. Your body ached for more, craving the release that only he could give you.

Lando's thrusts became more insistent, his hips pistoning against yours, each movement driving you closer to the edge. Your breath came in short gasps, your heart pounding in your chest as the ecstasy built up inside you. You could feel the heat coursing through your veins, the desire consuming you.

“Lando, oh god, I'm so close,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. Lando responded by increasing his pace, his body slamming into yours, each thrust sending overwhelming bliss throughout your entire body.

You felt the familiar sensation building up within you, the pressure rising, the heat spreading. You knew what was coming, and you welcomed it with open arms. With a loud cry, you arched your back, your body trembling as the wave of pleasure crashed over you, engulfing you completely. Lando's body followed suit, his thrusts becoming erratic, his voice hoarse as he emptied himself within you, crying out your name.

Your bodies collapsed onto each other, panting heavily, your skin glistening with sweat. You didn't know how long you lay there, lost in each other's embrace, but the moment felt timeless. 

You glanced at him, only to see him sound asleep with a contented smile on his face. You couldn't help but run your fingers lightly through his hair, feeling the warmth of his body and the weight of his head on your chest. But you still had the article to finish and the call from your editor to make.

You gently extracted yourself from his embrace, feeling the cool air on your skin as your body adjusted back to reality. With a tender kiss on his forehead, you whispered, “I'll be right back,” feeling a sense of contentment and a touch of guilt at leaving him there.

You put on a robe and sat down at your desk, using the warm glow of the computer screen to illuminate your face as you typed away, every word bringing you closer to finishing the article. Although he owed some questions to the world, as his best friend you already knew the answers to almost every one. Remembering his words from earlier, you took it to your advantage to finish the article.

As you worked, the memories of the night still fresh in your mind, you couldn't help but recall the way Lando's hands felt on your body, the way his breath grazed your skin, the way his voice whispered husky promises in your ear. It made it hard to concentrate, but you knew you had to be professional.

With the piece finally done, you sent it to your editor, knowing that you had captured the essence of Lando's journey and the excitement surrounding his career. You knew that this was just the beginning of many great things for him, and you couldn't be more proud to have witnessed it firsthand, as his best friend, reporter and maybe something more in the future.

[obsessedwhyyes]

A Sound Hypothesis

Summary: Inexperienced in the ways of love, you often find yourself labelled an overthinker. But then again, you are a scientist. When your incredibly beautiful travelling companion proposes a night you'll never forget, suddenly you're left wondering, are you really ready for this? Ever the scientist, you propose an experiment, and get more than you bargained for.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4762 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader Content: Act 1, smut with plot, inexperienced nerd reader, making out, oral sex (giving and receiving), hand job, cock worship, blowjob and handjob instruction (ie. Astarion teaches you how to pleasure him).

A/N: Can't believe this got to nearly 5k words, good lord. Actual smut comes in half way through, but it's still rather spicy before then. Also, writing handjobs is hard.

The events of the night prior felt like a dream, yet you remembered each moment vividly.

“I’m beginning to like the whole package, honestly,” he had purred, “and you clearly like me too, so I was thinking…”

You looked into his eyes as he gazed confidently, hungrily into yours. There was only him in this moment. Well, him and the quickened pulse of your heart pounding in your ears. You were certain he could hear it.

“We could take an evening to ourselves. Get to know each other a little more intimately.”

But you were struck with a hit of nerves then. You had lived a sheltered life before your abduction. A wizard and a scholar, your pursuits had been in the sciences and that of perfecting your craft, rather than in stolen moments of lust with beautiful strangers. Not to say you hadn’t experienced a few stolen kisses, however. But to give oneself entirely to another - that was a very different, much more intimidating affair. Yet there was no denying the spark that flickered between the two of you as you spent your days and evenings together, and that spark ignited a growing ache within you that lingered each night you retreated to your bedroll.

“I want to, Astarion. Gods, I really want to, but I’m…”

You hesitated and tore your eyes from him; fiddled with your fingers for a moment.

“You’ve never done this before,” he finished, causing you to look up suddenly from your busying hands.

“I had my suspicions. I’d have already bedded you twice over otherwise.”

You could only laugh, not only at the sheer audacity of his remark, but because of course he knew. Gods, he could probably smell the inexperience on you from a mile away.

“It’s your decision, of course. Should you wish to keep things light between us, we’ll end our evenings together as friends. If you decide you want a little more, however–”

He stepped closer to you - close enough to feel his cool breath on your skin and smell the freshness of his cologne.

“I’ll give you a night you’ll never forget.”

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his hand lingering delicately where your neck meets the line of your jaw. He was playing you like a fiddle, and you knew it. But gods, if his tune wasn’t a siren’s song in the night. You wanted nothing more than to dance to it.

And then he kissed you.

Gods, the way he kissed you.

There was need, yes; a hunger not unknown to you even in your limited experience. But it was a hunger wrapped in a velvet blanket of familiarity, as though he had known your lips as long as his own. He was certainly skilled, there was no denying that.

The chill of the night air felt like a splash of cold water to your senses once his lips left yours, and you found yourself mourning the loss of his touch.

“Think about it,” he had said that night, before retreating back to his tent.

–

And here you are, wrapped in your bedroll, thinking about it. Ceaselessly.

About his voice, laced with the sweetest honey, speaking promises of nights wanton and dripping with ecstasy. About his smile, teasing and rakish, and the feel of his lips against yours which you missed like home.

You think about the times you let him feed from you; the gentle way he held you, one hand cradling your head. The soft, pleasured noises that would rumble from his chest as he grazed over the soft flesh of your throat - and sunk his teeth into it. Then, greedy, he would begin to pull you close, your chest flush against his own. Every time he fed, it was as though the gates holding back the flood of every primal vampiric instinct within him were unleashed at the taste of you; the ambrosia that is your life essence which you willingly gift to him. And every time he fed, before you reached the point of no return, you would break him out of his trance - a simple series of taps on his shoulder - and he would release you from his predatorial embrace.

It was in those moments, you would see the look in his eyes: ravenous, pupils blown, boring down into you as you lay there beneath him, vulnerable. Your gazes would linger and gods, how you imagined what it would feel like to be entangled with him; for him to take his pleasure from you.

No, you tell yourself. This has been going so fast. Your time together has been so short in the grand scheme of things yet, with the threat of ceremorphosis looming over you, your time on this mortal plane may be fleeting. One might argue that now is surely the time to experience that which you have not… isn’t it? 

But what if this isn’t what you actually want and this aching need within you is simply a manifestation of the stress your increasingly bizarre situation has brought you? It is not unknown for one to develop bouts of hypersexuality in times of stress, or so you have read in books detailing such occurrences.

Suddenly, an idea presents itself. A scientist such as yourself requires a chance to gather all available evidence before coming to a conclusion. A little experimentation, perhaps. Then, you’ll know for certain if your attraction runs deeper than you give your body credit for. Your honed mind will not be governed by a set of primitive bodily urges - you’re better than that. You won’t allow it.

For now, sleep beckons. Tomorrow, you shall put your idea into practice.

– 

The next day passes as swiftly as you had hoped. You’re eager to welcome the night. You and your companions had seemingly settled into a predictable routine when it came to your evening endeavours: your fellow wizard and friendly rival, Gale, would slave over the cook pot with the limited items you had procured over your journey, while the Blade of Frontiers himself regaled your group with stories of his adventures, punctuated with commentary from your remaining companions, ranging from crude to complimentary. Food would be eaten and domestic duties fulfilled, after which, everyone would begin their journeys to their bedrolls. Well, everyone bar you and Astarion. As the resident elves, you require far less rest than that of your travelling companions. It was in these moments, where the camp lay dormant and the two of you sit against a fallen log by the campfire, that you had developed something resembling a rapport with Astarion. You have become rather fond of your night time talks.

Tonight, however, you have plans beyond repartee.

You feel emboldened by your plan. Where before, you were thrown into territory unknown, unprepared and anxious, now you have the comfort of scientific method on your side. You know exactly what to say - you’ve thought of every possibility after all.

Sitting side-by-side, you turn to him, determined.

“I was thinking about your little proposition last night.”

“Were you now?” Astarion replies with a smirk on his lips and a gleam in his eyes.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself just yet. I always imagined that the first time I, um…”

“Did the horizontal dance with an esteemed companion? Engaged in amorous congress? Fucked?”

“Had sex,” you quickly correct, halting his attempts to fluster you further. “I always imagined the first time I had sex would be under slightly less unusual circumstances. We’ve been under nothing but stress ever since we got off that damned Nautiloid. I can’t tell if this desire I’m feeling is because I truly want to spend the night with you, or because my body just wants a distraction.”

“Is that such a bad thing? We’ve worms in our brains and danger is lurking around every corner. Our time is short, darling. If I can provide our dear leader a little respite in these tumultuous times; offer up my services in her time of need, that sounds like time well spent, does it not?”

He shuffles closer to you, resting his arm behind you on the log which you both lean against.

“Besides,” he continues, his voice low and close to your ear, “you’ve been so good to me, offering up your neck for me to savour. It’s only fitting that I offer you a little distraction in return.”

“I don’t want to just… use you as a distraction, Astarion. Gods, I offered you my blood because I wanted to help you, not because I expected a favour.”

For a fleeting moment, his expression shifts. And just as quickly, his smirk returns, embodying a practised sultriness that has surely wrapped many a soul around his fingers.

“No,” you continue, “if I have sex, it will be because it’s something I truly want to do; that I’m ready for. Not just a fanciful distraction. I hope you feel the same.”

That expression again, barely noticeable. You can’t quite decipher it.

“So, darling,” he purrs, “what do you suggest?”

“I was wondering if I could kiss you.”

“Ha! Can’t get enough, eh?”

“I just think that, with a little more evidence, I might be able to see if this is something I’m truly ready for; to discern whether this desire is real, or simply a physical response to this gods-awful situation we find ourselves in.”

He laughs, seemingly amused by your reasoning, and your heart flutters at the sound. Unexpected.

“Gods, are you always such an overthinker?”

“I just think it would help me come to a decision.”

“Is that what this is then? Your little experiment?”

“I’m nothing if not a scientist,” you tease back.

“Alright, my dear. Your terms are acceptable. A kiss, for scientific reasons, of course.”

Of course, you say to yourself. That… is what this is, isn’t it? Simple evidence gathering?

You have no time to consider this as Astarion places a finger under your chin, lifting your gaze fully to his, and suddenly, you hear your pulse pounding loudly in your ears once more. Gods, his eyes are beautiful.

An easy smile, a tilt of his head, and he presses his lips to yours, delicate and familiar. He’s gentle, at first: his lips linger on yours a moment before kissing you again, a tender sensation. As you close your eyes and immerse yourself in the feeling, the world around you quietens. No longer do you hear the crackling of the fire as it dies, the chirps of insects, or the rustle of leaves in the breeze. 

At this moment, all you know is him.

You succumb to the coolness of his touch, the smoothness of his skin, the freshness of his scent - sensations so overwhelming that your body responds of its own accord, letting free a soft moan into his mouth.

As though in response, Astarion’s hand lowers from your cheek and trails from your neck, your shoulder, to your waist, as though committing each dip of your body to memory, before pulling you closer to him. Your hands, in return, plant themselves against his chest. His body feels hard and angular against the softness of your own.

As his tongue seeks permission to dance with yours, there is a hunger; a fieriness that threatens to engulf you. The kiss deepens, and you realise with a start that your legs have entangled themselves with his.

Pull yourself together, your mind screams. You’re meant to be in control of your body, not the other way around.

Or so you think, when suddenly, Astarion’s hand moves to your arse - the cheeky sod - and he skillfully, seamlessly rolls you onto his lap, taking advantage of your entangled legs, purposefully positioning you so that you’re straddling him.

Shit.

You gasp. You had forgotten to breathe. He notices and, gods, the smug look on his face. He knows he’s taken you off guard, and worse still…

He knows the effect he’s having on you.

The wall you had carefully constructed between your mind and body begins to collapse, brick by brick. As you kiss, the final fragments fall away, and everything that was once separated threatens to come together in a powerful, unified surge of desire if not for the final threads of your self-restraint.

His body desires this as much as yours, it would seem. As you straddle him, his hands caressing you as they drag up and down your back, you notice a distinct hardness digging into you, oh so close to your core. It takes more willpower than you’ve ever known to not grind into that hardness, seeking the release which you ache for. You are a tautly drawn bow, the tension between your mental focus and physical yearning almost unbearable.

Noticing how stiff you become, Astarion retreats from your lips, tilting his head in playful curiosity.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, darling?”

“I… I…” You barely recognise your own voice as it strains to come out of you.

The bowstring snaps.

You yield.

Your mind and body merge into a mess of lust and desire, and you kiss him hard and greedily. He returns the enthusiasm in kind, releasing a groan into your mouth as he does so. You want this. You want him.

Astarion pulls himself from your lips and turns his attentions to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses where, other nights, he had sunk his fangs. As he does so, you hear his voice, husky in lust.

“You know, if you still need a little more “experimentation,” I have a couple more ideas for you…”

His voice gives you goosebumps.

“... I’m particularly skilled with my tongue, after all.”

You nod.

“Your tent or mine?”

–

As you’re pushed against the bedroll within the privacy of your tent, you’re overwhelmed by a desire to feel every inch of Astarion’s cool, hard body on yours. It was such a primal need, to be enveloped by him; an urge beyond anything you’ve experienced, causing you to wrap your arms greedily behind his neck as you kiss each other, pulling him closer, but never close enough. His hips grind against you slowly, deliberately, granting you a brief, delicious friction which sends shivers up your body and fuels the incredible ache between your legs.

Astarion sits back up on his knees, admiring the mess of you, a smile on his pretty lips. You can only imagine the state you must be in: hair wild, eyes wide and hungry, clothes dishevelled. But your appearance is a distant notion in the back of your mind as Astarion lifts the hem of your skirt and removes your undergarments, sopping wet from your arousal.

You feel vulnerable, exposed to him like this, your desire on full display in front of the very man who you spent nights dreaming about. While his lustful gaze lights a flush of red across your cheeks, it doesn’t cause you to recoil; instead, you find yourself emboldened as he lowers himself between your legs, holding your gaze with eyes hungry and hooded.

He drags his lips up your thighs, leaving kisses so teasing that brings forth the neediest of sounds from your chest. When he reaches your core, he slides a tongue up the slit of you, agonisingly slowly, painfully gently.

Head rolling back, you anticipate the feeling of his tongue within you, but then…

He diverts his attention back to your thighs.

Bastard.

“Astarion..!”

“Eager little pup, aren’t you? Don’t you worry, darling - you’ll get what you desire. Once I have my fun with you, of course.”

He shifts, propping your legs over his shoulders as he grants you an audacious glance and grazes his tongue over you once more, sending a wave of tingles radiating across your body.

You begin to pout at his teasing action, and–

His tongue enters you.

He glides it firmly from your entrance to your clit, lapping you up in one motion, releasing the most wondrous groan, as though the nectar of your arousal is sweeter than any honey.

And so, like a man starved, he devours you, gauging quickly the sensations you prefer, alternating skillfully between firm strokes of his tongue, and the most teasing of flickers across your clit.

Your back arches, and you can do nothing but grasp at the edges of your bedroll as he works at you, leaving you in a state so blissful that you don’t notice the wanton sounds being cried from your lips.

“Easy, love,” he purrs, the loss of his tongue against you causing you to whimper. “As much as I enjoy hearing those delectable sounds of yours, let’s not wake the others, hm?”

You can only cover your mouth with your hands in a feeble attempt to hush yourself as he continues his ministrations. As your eyes meet and the pleasant ache in your core begins to swell into an all-encompassing warmth across your body, you wonder if this is what it feels to be revered as a deity would, your every sensation treated with the kind of awe that only a god might know.

It is when he enters you with his fingers - first one, then two, thrusting in rhythm with his tongue - that the warmth, now an inferno, reaches its peak. It surges through you like a divine crescendo, each wave of your climax a new blessing that floods your senses with a celestial rapture, singing his name like the sweetest hymn.

He caresses your thighs as he brings you down slowly from your high, grounding you.

As you return once again to this mortal plane, the lingering euphoria elicits a fit of giggles from you.

“Well,” Astarion smiles in return, removing himself from the home he has made between your legs, “you certainly seemed to enjoy yourself.”

“I did. I really did. Thank you.”

As you both sit yourselves upright once more, he presses another kiss to your lips. You taste yourself on him.

“I hope our little experiment was very informative for you,” he says with a wink. His words are teasing, but spoken with a gentleness that surprises you.

The truth is, you do have one more idea.

“Can I, um… Can I do the same for you?”

“What?” He says a little too quickly. Noticing this, he brushes his hair back with his hand to a more presentable condition, regains his composure, and continues. “I mean, you don’t have to. To see you squirm under my touch, that’s pleasure enough for me.”

“I want to make you feel good too.”

“You want to?”

That same indecipherable expression. A man with as many notches on his bedpost as he claims must have had some less than favourable conquests every now and then… Perhaps he’s had some bad experiences when receiving too? You suddenly find yourself cursing your lack of experience in these matters. You’re not exactly brimming with social expertise either.

“I probably won’t be the best - not as good as you - but I want to try. I always find that the best way to develop one’s skills is to practise under the guidance of a trusted expert. So… could you teach me how to make you feel good?”

Your gazes linger for a moment as he seems to assess your resolve.

Seemingly satisfied, he smirks, a well-practised aura of sultriness fitting back into place once more. All traces of that mysterious expression dissipate before your eyes.

“Well, darling, if you’re so eager to please me, who am I to stop you?”

You slide up to sit next to him as he begins to unlace his trousers, and suddenly you find yourself unsure of where to look. You’ve a scholar’s knowledge of the physical form; men’s anatomy is no stranger to you from an analytical perspective. And yes, you’ve fantasised about Astarion’s… parts before, as much as you have tried to deceive yourself into believing it was nothing more than a passing, intrusive thought. Yet, now that you’re here, about to perform the most intimate of acts to your beautiful travelling companion for the first time, you become bashful. You can’t quite believe the situation you’ve gotten yourself into tonight.

Yet, as he lowers his trousers and underwear to his thighs, revealing himself to you, all thoughts of bashfulness, of anxiety, cease to be for a moment.

“Hells, Astarion.” You look upon his hardened member with disbelief, measuring its girth against your arm. “How is that going to fit inside me, exactly?”

A slip of the tongue.

He grins, very pleased with himself. “Getting ahead of ourselves, are we?”

… And there returns that familiar flush of heat to your cheeks. Shit.

His chuckling lets you know that he has, in fact, noticed your embarrassment.

Seeking to swiftly change the subject to the much more pressing matter at hand, you ask, “can I touch you?”

In wordless agreement, Astarion guides your hand to his cock, which glistens slightly from the beads of precum elicited from the head. As you hold it, his hand remains over yours, coaxing you to move up and down the shaft.

His cock isn’t warm as you would imagine a regular man’s to be, owing to his vampiric nature, but you note its hardness; the way it pulses beneath your touch; the way his foreskin glides over the head so seamlessly. You squeeze him, fascinated.

“Gently, love. Like this.” He demonstrates by applying a light pressure to your hand and twisting ever so slightly as you both reach the tip, then loosening his grip as he slides you back down his length. You repeat the motion, tentatively. Gods, you hope you're doing this right. He made you feel incredible. You want him to feel incredible too. But oh, what if you hurt him, what if you–

“A-ah…”

The softest sigh of pleasure from your companion interrupts your thoughts. It sends wonderful shivers throughout your body. You find yourself eager to coax more of those little sounds from him.

A newfound confidence flares within you, and you gradually increase your pace, up and down and up and down the shaft, squeezing and twisting lightly as your beautiful instructor taught. In a sudden bout of curiosity, you glide your thumb over the head on your way back down and–

“Ah!”

There it is again. That most delicious sound.

“Exactly like that, darling. Exactly like that.”

He removes his hand from yours as you continue to pump him - you are a fast learner, it would seem - and moves it to reach your cheek, turning you to face him. As he leans his forehead against yours, you notice his breathing has become heavier, just ever so slightly. Instinctively, your breathing begins to match his, and you feel an intensity in the air that gives you goosebumps. Then he kisses you, and it is hungry. Ravenous. Greedy. His hand moves from your cheek to the back of your head, gripping your hair lightly, pressing your lips firmly against his.

As you continue to pleasure him, you find yourself becoming greedy too.

You want to taste him.

Between gasps for air, you ask him, “can I use my mouth on you? The way you did for me?”

“Mmhm,” he says into your kiss. It feels almost a shame to remove yourself from his lips, but you have greater plans yet. 

You both reposition yourselves. He turns to lie himself back on the bedroll, and you crawl down his body to position yourself between his legs. So close to his cock, you find yourself admiring it, taking in every detail: the thick vein on the underside of the shaft, the way the head throbs a colour darker than the rest, eager for release.

You're overwhelmed with a primal desire - a need - to please, to give.

To worship.

“Gods, it's beautiful,” you think aloud.

“I know,” he remarks confidently in return. You roll your eyes at his arrogance, but in this moment, in your eyes, even you can't deny that his cock is perfection. Your mouth waters at what is to come.

You hold his member delicately, like a jewel most precious, planting kisses up his length. A soft sound escapes from Astarion’s lips and suddenly you are emboldened, determined to gift him with bliss as he had gifted you. To do so, however, you would need a little instruction.

“Tell me how to please you,” you plead, and you feel him twitch at your words.

“You are eager,” he purrs, propping himself up with his hands to gaze down at you. You notice a shiver and a sigh, ever so slight, when you trail a line of wetness from base to tip with your tongue.

“In that case,” he continues, brushing a strand of hair from your face, granting him a better view of you, “lick your lips and hold it at the base. Then I want you to get to know it a little, so to speak. Use your mouth around the head and start slowly - there's no point in rushing in, eh?”

You obey, shaking off the lingering feelings of bashfulness at the directness of his words, and wrap your lips around him. Out of curiosity, you swirl a flattened tongue around the head and gods, his skin is so smooth, still slightly salty from precum. His cock twitches and you hear him gasp above you - he’s especially sensitive there, it would seem. 

Where are his other sensitive spots, you wonder.

Time to experiment. You are nothing if not a scientist.

You bob your head and relax your jaw to the best of your abilities, taking in just a little bit more of him each time your mouth glides up and down, keeping your tongue flat against him to flick against the sensitive tip each time you glide back up the length. The sounds he makes - oh, those sounds. His moans are like velvet, a soft, deep timbre that caresses your senses and makes your loins ache once more. Every murmur seeps into your being, igniting your senses and fuelling your need to explore every inch of him. You continue your journey down and down his length, savouring the taste and the texture and–

You gag as his cock touches your throat.

Astarion recomposes himself. “Easy, darling. Use your hand where your mouth can’t reach.”

“Like this?” Your hand pumps the shaft in rhythm with the motions of your mouth and tongue, and Astarion’s head rolls back for a moment.

“Like that,” he exhales heavily, “and suck gently.”

There’s a certain sense of empowerment, unravelling him like this. You relish in every moan that escapes his lips, every twitch and pulse of his cock as you attend to him. The lewd, wet sounds emitted as your hollowed cheeks suck his length. His hand finds its way to your hair, fingers weaving through the strands with a gentle authority, pushing you hard enough to guide you to an ever-quickening rhythm, but gentle enough not to force himself down your throat.

“Use your other hand,” he says between breaths, “hold the balls softly.”

You do as he says, giving them the gentlest of squeezes as you attend to him, and his breaths grow deeper, uneven. You sense the rising tension in him, a tide gathering strength beneath the surface.

He gives one final instruction.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes meet with a stormy intensity and, as you pump up and down with your lips and fingers at a dizzying pace, the intensity seems to surge through him with the force of an ocean swell, powerful and all-encompassing.

With a tremor and a groan so delicious that you find yourself moaning instinctively in response, his cum fills your mouth. Your eyes water, taken by surprise by the force of his release, but you do your best to swallow each wave, releasing him with a wet pop as his climax subsides.

Some moments pass and, in the afterglow, the tent is filled with a comfortable, profound stillness, and only the sounds of heavy breathing - yours and his - as you both return to your senses.

“Did you just..?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“I did,” you reply with a grin, showing him your tongue to reveal that not a drop went to waste.

He laughs warmly, and your heart flutters.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” He kisses you deeply as he sits up, seemingly undeterred by the taste of himself.

“I think I’ve gathered enough evidence to consider your proposition,” you say teasingly.

“Tomorrow night then, darling?”

Bastard.

But yes, you think to yourself. Tomorrow night. You’re ready.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗦𝗟𝗘𝗘𝗣𝗬

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Matt had a busy day and just wants to sleep in his lover arms.

WARNING: None.

REQUEST?: Yes, by @mymoots

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N sighed in relief after closing the door to her house, locking it before placing her set of keys on the plate next to the entrance, next to Matt's car key. The girl took off her shoes, placing them up against the wall next to Chris' sneakers, making a mental note to clean them both the next day, or ask Chris to do so.

Y/N walked to the kitchen still with her purse on her shoulder, not wanting to put it on the counter, knowing that if she did she would forget to pick it later to put it in its proper place. The girl walked to one of the cabinets and took a glass of water, filling it and drinking all the contents there, before finally going to her room, which she shared with her boyfriend.

She was excited to see Matt, after a busy day at work she always loved sitting and listening intently as he recounted everything he did alone or with his brothers from the moment he woke up, her favorite stories being about what it was filming the video that would be posted the next day, or sometimes, on that same day.

And this was one of those days, when the boys left the recording of Friday's video to be recorded exactly on Friday, which made the day busier than normal and, consequently, more tiring.

Y/N quickly arrived at the room, knocking twice on the door before carefully opening it just enough to enter, before closing it again, finding the room completely dark, only lit by the low white lights that decorated the corner of the walls.

Matt was lying on the bed, on top of the covers, face down and his face turned to the other way.

The girl placed her purse on the chair closest to the door, removing her jacket and walking lightly towards her boyfriend, not sure if he was awake or asleep, and the last thing she wanted to do was disturb him.

"Matt? Baby?" Y/N whispered, bringing her face closer to the side of Matt's head, enjoying the fresh smell of shampoo.

"Hmm?"

"Are you awake?" She continued, now bringing her face closer to his, noticing his half-open eyes and sleepy face.

"I am, I haven't slept yet, I wanted to wait for you." He responded in a low whisper filled with exhaustion.

"Oh my love, there was no need. You recorded today's video during the day and you mentioned that you were going to the market, I imagine how tired you must be." Y/N spoke back, remembering the brief text that Matt sent her right after lunch, letting her know that he was going to stop by the market to buy some items that had run out of the fridge and cupboard, and that Y/N had written in the notes on his phone as it was the closest to her at the time.

"It's okay, I like seeing your face before I sleep." Matt whispered again, turning completely around to face Y/N, smiling slightly, his eyes almost closing completely.

"I love you." The girl spoke, approaching and kissing Matt's lips, without moving them, just a seal full of love and affection.

"Hm I love you more."

"Are you hungry? I can get a quick snack." Y/N asked, pulling away.

"A little, but I miss you more than I'm hungry, so lay here with me." He responded, pulling her arm lightly.

"Are you sure, honey?" He responded with just a nod. "Alright, let me just take a shower first."

"Nooo, don't leave me here all alone." He asked slyly, raising his arms. Y/N laughed at his whole drama as his blue eyes barely opened.

"It'll be quick, I promise."

"I'll go with you." He said, getting up and almot falling, what kept him from doing it was Y/N's hands on his shoulders.

The girl shook her head, knowing that asking him to lie down again would be a losing fight, so she just guided him to the bathroom, sitting him on top of the toilet.

The girl quickly took her clothes off and discarding them in the laundry basket, before entering the shower, casting a quick glance at Matt, who was half-bent over with his eyes half closed, the side of his body resting on the counter, making her smile, he was so kind to her.

It didn't take more than ten minutes and she was already drying herself, fulfilling her promise to be quick.

"Matt, go to bed, I'm almost done here." She asked, placing her hands on the boy's cheeks and lifting his face, bending down slightly and kissing his forehead, helping him to get up and gently pushing him to the room.

As she left the bathroom, her eyes traveled to the bed, smiling when she saw Matt in a half-sitting, half-lying position, with his eyes closed and his hand off the side of the bed, as if he was ready to catch her when she climbed into the comfort of his side.

Y/N went to their closet, taking fresh panties and Matt's shirt from her side of clothes, putting them both on before walking back to bed, lightly touching Matt's hand, which made him open his eyes quickly and look around, feeling a little lost.

"I'm awake, I promise." Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes at how stubborn the brunette could be when he wanted to.

"Go a little to the side, my love." She asked, pushing him away lightly with her hands, making space for herself. "When we wake up tomorrow, I want to know everything about your day." Y/N added in a whisper, getting under the covers and placing Matt next to her, before pulling him into her arms, letting he lay his head on her chest, knowing that the sound of her heartbeat calmed him down.

"And I'll tell you everything." He spoke back slowly, placing his hand around her waist before giving up to sleep.

Y/N paused for a few seconds to just watch her boyfriend's expression soften, the tension in his body giving way to lightness, and she couldn't help but smile. There was no better place for her than in Matt's arms.

REQUEST:

[drunk-person]

Uncontrollably (One shot)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x cousin!reader

Summary: After long years without seeing each other, Aemond is reunited with his cousin who came from Dragon Stone for a festival in the kingdom. And after a warm reunion in the library Aemond decides, against his better judgment, to visit his cousin's room just as they did when they were younger before her father, Prince Daemon, took her to Dragon Stone. He just didn't count on the fact that things could get so out of his control.

WARNING: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, fingering, Oral Sex, loss of virginity, no description for reader.

Word cont: 3.900 k

Author's note: This One shot is a deleted scene from a chapter of a long fic I've been writing for a while. However, after writing it, I didn't think the scene was so consistent with the story's setting and I rewrote it differently, so I decided to share the deleted scene with you. I hope you like it, and again English is not my first language.

Aemond knew he shouldn't be there. Not after what had happened in the library, he knew he was playing with his luck, testing his own self-control. But he couldn't help it. Y/n was so close, he knew how to get to her, it wouldn't be long now before she would have to return to Dragon Stone again, and then he didn't know when he would see her again.

— To hell with it. — He sighed before pushing the wall and finding himself inside the wardrobe of Y/n's room. Aemond took a deep breath and knocked twice on the wardrobe door from the inside.

— Aem? — Came her sweet voice with expectation and a slight fear outside.

— Yes, it's me. — He replied nervously and then the light illuminated the dark wardrobe as Y/n opened the door smiling at him. Aemond tried, but couldn't help but look from top to bottom, she was only wearing a nightgown with a very thin fabric and a silk and lace cloak on top.

— Hey. — She said shyly as she closed the front part of the slip, better hiding her body from his eyes.

— Hello. — Aemond cleared his throat a little nervously — I thought we would read a little, just like the old days.

He lifted the book "Tales of Ancient Valyria" that he had in his hands, still inside her wardrobe, her favorite book, and Y/n's eyes lit up.

— Well, first you need to get out of the wardrobe. — Her playful voice made Aemond's body relax as he smiled and lowered his head to get out of the furniture without hitting the top. He then saw Y/n's eyes staring at him in awe.

— What it was? — He smiled, already out of the wardrobe and facing Y/n in the room.

— You got so tall. — She spoke simply.

— Did you just realize that now? — Aemond frowned, teasing her.

— Certainly not. — She laughed. — But it's strange to see you coming out of the wardrobe so big, when the last time you did that we were practically the same height.

Aemond smiled and guided her by the hand to the rug in front of the fireplace, feeling the skin on his hands tingle where his palm met hers. He sat on the floor and just like when they were younger, Y/n sat next to him, leaning her head on Aemond's shoulder gently, and the prince had to hold back a sigh.

He began to read aloud the Valyrian words from the book that he already knew by heart from so many times he had read it with her in mind. Aemond practically recited the stories, and barely wasted time looking at the pages, focusing too much on admiring the beauty of the princess lying on his shoulder.

— Se skori janderys geptot, zȳhon ābrazȳrys ozmijiō zirȳla tolvie tubis, se ziry jumban syt zȳhon amāzigon, gīda skori everyone ivestretan zȳhon ziry istan. — Aemond recited this part almost whispering, lost amid Y/n's beauty.

"And when Janderys was gone, her wife missed her every day. She waited patiently for her return, even when everyone told her it was impossible."

After that part, Y/n looked at Aemond and he didn't dare look in another direction, he just got lost in the beautiful eyes that he loved so much. Her sweet smell entering his nostrils intoxicated him and he felt his entire body shudder from one moment to the next with her proximity. The lack of control almost took over him once again, as had become common in the last few days, but this time he got up quickly, leaving the book lying on the carpet next to Y/n.

Aemond pulled away a little as he tried to regain his senses and contain the urge to kiss her again, just like he had done in the library. When they were children everything was so much simpler. Why now that he was a man couldn't he just sit on the rug and read a book with her without feeling like he was going to combust?

And just as thoughts were starting to flow again in Aemond's mind he felt the touch of Y/n's hand on his shoulder, the intoxicating smell once again overwhelming him.

— Aem? — She called him with that sweet voice that did things to his mind that he never thought possible. Aemond pressed firmly on the eye, keeping it firmly in place. — Are you okay?

— I am. — He turned back to Y/n, trying to maintain his composure, but as soon as he turned back, his gaze went straight to her red lips. Aemond quickly looked away, trying to look anywhere but at her lips. But then... his eyes fell onto the bedside table and the prince's eye pupil dilated instantly.

The tournament crown he had given her.

— You brought it with you.

— Of course, it's not every day that I'm crowned the queen of love and beauty by the greatest warrior in the kingdom.

His words awakened something within him that he hadn't yet realized. Such a feeling of possession and pride washing over him that Aemond could barely breathe, he didn't want to breathe, unless the air was the same as Y/n's.

The memory of the sounds she made against his neck in the library while she rubbed against his clothed thigh and that he tried not to think about tonight at all costs flooded his mind, the way she looked at him full of desire when he handed her that crown dominated him, the feeling of her skin against his during the dance that she had granted him hours before made him lose the control he swore to maintain.

And without being able to contain himself, Aemond pulled her firmly towards him by the hips and kissed her on the mouth hungrily. He wanted her so much it hurt. Y/n sighed and took her hands to his hair, tangling them in the silky strands as she pulled him even closer into the kiss.

He squeezed her hips between his fingers as he had been dreaming of doing for some time, and lightly squeezed her ass, pulling her closer and closer amidst the voracious kisses. Aemond kissed Y/n's neck while they both tried to catch their breath, he gave light bites and sucked in some spots while she sighed for him.

— Aemond.

She moaned his name sweetly and Aemond barely had control over himself when he raised his hands that were on her hips to the top of her back and holding tight to the collar of the fragile nightdress he tore it, making Y/n moan and rub herself against him as the pieces of fabric fell to the floor.

The Vision in front of him could easily have killed him. The naked body he had only seen in his wildest dreams was even more beautiful than he could have dreamed, it was perfect. Her breasts were as beautiful as he had imagined, the delicate curves of her waist and hips seemed designed by the gods themselves and between her beautiful thighs that she pressed firmly in search of relief, her intimacy that he was sure was already wet for him.

Aemond wanted to control himself, he would control himself. But he wanted to at least prove it first. And then he swore to himself that he would just taste her and pleasure her, just as he had the day before, and then he would leave. He would ask the gods for forgiveness for his indolence, and everything would be fine.

And with that thought he approached her again with his hungry gaze pulling her for another kiss while he brought his hands to her ass cheeks, squeezing firmly. Aemond guided Y/n to the bed and sat her down on the mattress with a mischievous smile on her face. She then looked up at him, looking confused with her lips swollen from kissing and the skin on her neck slightly red.

— Open your legs for me jorrāelagon. — He asked softly as he knelt in front of her, Y/n felt her whole body burn with shame, but obeyed, languidly opening her legs before Aemond's hungry eyes. My love

He said a filthy curse in Valyrian that made her blush even more if possible as he brought both hands to her smooth thighs, caressing and squeezing them. Aemond began caressing his left hand slowly while listening to Y/n's sighs and when he got to where he wanted he gently separated his lips from Y/n's intimacy and took two fingers to her sensitive pearl, caressing it.

Y/n sighed with pleasure at the new sensation of Aemond's fingers caressing her, and when he brought his fingers to her entrance and slowly placed them inside, making soft back and forth movements, she threw her head back while biting her lips.

Aemond enjoyed watching her reactions and smiled when he saw a slight frown of disappointment form when he moved her hand away, moving it back to his thigh. But before she could say anything, he firmly grabbed both of her thighs to keep them open. and dipped his head between her legs, licking her firmly from the entrance to the pearl.

Y/n moaned loudly at the sensation and gripped the sheets tightly between her fingers, and Aemond groaned as he finally felt her sweet taste on the tip of his tongue. He penetrated her tongue with his tongue and Y/n squirmed, begging for more.

— Aemond. — She said his name like a song, and he responded by giving her more and more pleasure, going deeper between her thighs with even more desire as he felt her squirm under his care. His mouth took every little part of her pussy for himself, while his nose hit her clit in a way that made her want to scream.

Y/n felt her entire body out of control, the feeling a thousand times stronger than the day before in the library. Spasms wracked her body and without control she fell back onto the sheets as she arched her back and moaned desperately. She took her hands to Aemond's hair, tangling her fingers between the strands and practically rubbing herself against his face without any shame.

— Aemond. — She practically screamed when she reached her peak, writhing against Aemond's mouth as he sucked her as if his life depended on it.

He felt her spongy walls contract more and more against his tongue and the delicious spasms brought with them Y/n's orgasm. Her taste numbed him, he wanted to feel that taste on his lips forever. The sound of her voice screaming his name at her peak almost drove him crazy, he wanted more.

Aemond moved up his lips, leaving kisses on her sensitive intimacy while he felt her shudder, and he went up her belly, kissing and sucking slowly, drawing sighs of pleasure from Y/n.

—It tastes so good. — He said as he continued to kiss more amidst the gasps of pleasure that Y/n emitted. — Sweet and perfect, like everything about you.

The kisses reached her breasts, and Aemond knew he should stop, that this was going too far and her virtue was at stake. But he told himself that if he could just touch those perfect breasts he would be satisfied. And then he took her left breast into his mouth and sucked it hard, driving her crazy as she had barely recovered from her recent orgasm. He squeezed her other breast with his hand, and gently pinched her nipple, giving her even more pleasure. Breasts so good, made for him to love, made for him to suck, with every sound made by Y/n, Aemond thought he was going to die

—So sensitive. So good for me.

Aemond rubbed his clothed body against her naked body looking for pleasure, his hardness pressing against her intimacy. He could feel her fluids moistening his pants and he moaned in pleasure at the sensation.

— Just for you Aemond. — She moaned sweetly at him. — Only yours.

A feeling of possessiveness came over him when he heard her say those words. From him. He wanted so badly to feel her bare skin against his bare skin, he needs to have that feeling at least once in his life. And he assured himself that he would go no further than that, that he would keep her maidenhood intact.

Aemond felt Y/n's hands pulling him by his clothes as she tried to kiss his neck just like he had done to her. And he ripped off his doublet and threw it haphazardly on the floor, then removing the lighter shirt he was wearing underneath and throwing it too, leaving his chest bare under Y/n's watchful gaze.

She pulled him back to her and kissed him passionately on the lips, and Aemond felt his skin burn and tingle as it came into contact with hers. Her warm breasts rubbing against his chest, Aemond took his hands to her back and pulled her further up onto the bed, where the two became even more entangled in kisses as they rubbed against each other in search of pleasure.

Y/n put her hand on the drawstring that held Aemond's pants in place and he held her hands, stopping her from pulling.

— Aemond. — She sighed his name with her eyes closed.

— I can't do that. — He spoke against her neck. — It would ruin you.

— I just want to feel you... feel your body against mine. — She sighed and scratched his back. — It's not fair that I'm naked and you're not.

Aemond took a deep breath and then inhaled. He couldn't do that, it would be going too far. The prince then got up from the bed with difficulty as he tried to move away from her delicious body.

— Aemond. — She begged there sprawled on the bed, naked, with her hair messy, her lips red from kissing and her silky legs parted as moisture ran down her thighs. He couldn't deny her. Just that more and he would go away to his own room, he was a gentleman. He wouldn't take Y/n's virtue without being married to her.

He untied his pants under her watchful gaze and then ripped them off, throwing them in the pile of clothes, leaving him completely naked, with just his eye patch. Aemond walked to the bed again and lay down on her body, now being able to feel the moisture that dripped from her directly onto his dick. By the Gods, how he would like to bury himself in her.

The two kissed eagerly and Y/n intertwined her legs against Aemond's slim waist in search of friction, making him moan against her lips as he rubbed himself against that hot moisture.

— Take it off. — She begged breathlessly between kisses, putting her hand to her eye patch.

— No. — Aemond denied, gently taking her hand away from the eye patch and stopping kissing her neck.

— Please Aemond. — She begged, looking at him while caressing his face. — I want to see you in full, I don't care about scars.

And Aemond knew that there was nothing in this world that she begged him naked under his body that he wouldn't do. If she asked him right now to ride Vhagar and burn an entire city, he would burn it without a second thought. And taking his hand to his face, he removed the eye patch, looking at her slightly nervous, fearing to see rejection in the eyes he loved so much.

Y/n admired him enchantedly. It was different from the last time she saw him, there was a shiny sapphire stone where Aemond's eye had once been and the wound was well healed. Y/n gently brought her hand towards his eye, stroking it softly the region.

— It hurts? — She asked in a soft voice.Aemond shook his head slightly as he turned and placed a kiss on Y/n's palm.

— Almost no more.

— Gevie. — She said with a look of pure adoration as she pulled him into another passionate kiss that made Aemond sigh.

Y/n kissed his way up his face until she reached his left eye where the sapphire was and she left a long and affectionate kiss, as if Aemond was the most important thing in her world.

— Vok issa jorrāelagon. — She said with her eyes full of pure adoration, making some tears well up in Aemond's eye, who, with a genuine smile, kissed her even more passionately than before. You are perfect my love.

— Ao issi vok, se olvie gevie mirre vēttan ondoso se jaes. — He spoke with his face glued to hers while rubbing their noses and lips against each other in an extremely intimate way. You are perfection, the most beautiful creature ever made by the gods.

Aemond's throbbing member rubbed against Y/n's wetness, leaving them both panting with desire amidst the intimate caresses. And she wanted him so badly in that moment, more than anything she had ever wanted in her life.

— Aem. — She whimpered. — I want you. I want you so badly.

— We can not do that. — He panted, pulling away slightly from her.

Y/n tangled her fingers in his silver hair, pulling him back into a voracious and messy kiss.

— Y/n... — Aemond sighed between the kiss, trying to pull away, but not having the strength to do so, he wanted so much, but knew he shouldn't.

— I was made to be yours. — She grunted, holding him by the hair and looking at him in a way that bordered on despair. — Only yours. Not from him.

Him. Aemond knew who she was talking about, and for a moment in that haze of lust he had forgotten about that bastard who wanted to steal what was his.

— Aemond, I'd rather die, I'd rather be ruined, I'd rather anything than let him lay his hands on me. I feel sick at the thought of him putting his hands on my body. I don't want him. I want you. With everything in me, I want you. She looked directly into his eyes as she spoke, still holding him by his silky silver hair.

— I am begging you Aemond Targaryen. — She sighed beneath him, her eyes shining with desire. — Ruin me.

Aemond can't resist any longer, not with her begging like that. And with a groan he looked into her eyes and began to penetrate her soft, warm intimacy with his hard bulge. And at that moment he came to the conclusion that he had never felt anything as good as that in his entire life.

Y/n dug her nails into Aemond's back as she felt him slowly enter her insides.

— Aemond. — She sighed amidst the pleasure and slight pain and he immediately stood still, looking at her with slightly frightened eyes.

— Did I hurt you?

— No. — Y/n grabbed his shoulders pulling him closer to her. —Don't stop, I'm fine.

Aemond continued pushing inside her slowly, fearing to hurt her in any way, and little by little he sheathed himself completely inside Y/n, who was squeezing his shoulders and scratching him lightly. Aemond lay still inside her, panting as he felt her hot walls pressing and pulling him closer and closer, and trying to contain himself he buried his head in the curve between Y/n's neck and shoulder.

— You can move. — She sighed.

—Are you sure? — Aemond asked, looking into her eyes again while trying to contain himself.

Y/n confirmed with her head, putting her hands through Aemond's already messy hair and pulling him into a wet, slow kiss that got messier as he started to move inside her.

Aemond pushed himself lightly inside her and felt her gasp into the kiss and pull his hair. He then started to move harder and faster and the feeling of y/n's intimacy contracting against him was killing him.

— So good. — He moaned to her amidst the kisses and thrusts that became increasingly stronger as he lost himself in Y/n's moans.

— More. — She begged amidst moans. — Please Aemond, more.

Aemond bit her neck hard and sucked it uncontrollably when he heard her cry out for him like that. He then fucked her hard and loudly while they both panted amid the kisses and love bites, the prince seemed obsessed with her neck and was sucking it in an almost animalistic way at that point.

— Mine. — He panted.

He then took his right hand to her breast and desperately bit and kissed it down her lap until he reached the other breast, putting it in his mouth and sucking it as if he were going to devour it. Y/n threw her head back in pleasure at feeling so many sensations at the same time, and when he removed his hand from her breast and placed it between her legs, caressing her furiously, Y/n felt like she had lost all control over her own body.

— Yours, only yours Aemond. Always only yours.

The pleasure that hit her was even stronger than before, the feeling of Aemond inside her made her want to cry with joy. His naked body against hers, his mouth kissing her everywhere and she came against his cock pressing and milking it while she moaned Aemond's name wildly, crossed both legs against his naked ass and scratched his back pulling him closer and closer.

Aemond, feeling her coming and pressing against him, could no longer resist and without thinking about anything, without looking at tomorrow or the possible consequences, he spilled his seed deep inside Y/n while moaning breathlessly looking at her contorted face of pleasure.

— I love you. — He declared in the midst of pleasure and he could see her eyes, lost in pleasure, filling with tears as she brought her hand to his face and caressed it.

— I love you too.

And completely exhausted after the climax, they both fell into unconsciousness, still naked and hugging each other with satisfied smiles on their faces that lasted until the next morning, when Aemond did not appear to do his morning chores and they were both awakened by the horrified scream of the queen at the enter his niece’s room. Followed by Aegon who, upon seeing the scene, gave a malicious smile towards Aemond.

— Well it looks like we're not going to have a wedding anymore, at least not one with little Jace, isn't that brother?

---------------------------¤¤-----------------------

Tag list: @anukulee

[rememberwren]

/•Harmless Fun 5•\

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Further Parts

Simon and Johnny talk.

-

The soft rain continues into the night, enhancing the petrichor of the city: metal and concrete and gasoline. You are tucked away safely in Simon and Johnny’s bed, your dress and virtue intact, where you will remain until the late afternoon if your quiet snores are any indication. Simon had slipped the shoes from your feet, rolled you onto your side, and covered you with a blanket just in time for Johnny to limp into the bedroom and ask him to smoke out on the balcony together. 

Simon doesn’t smoke often anymore; it makes his night terrors worse. But he misses the lazy, relaxed feeling it gives him while awake, so it’s no real harm to say yes. Buttoned up in their jackets, they stand out on the balcony together passing a joint back and forth, the very image that he could have walked in on earlier that week only with you and Johnny instead. 

Johnny opens his mouth. 

“Don’t,” says Simon. 

He throws his hands up, nearly dropping the joint. “How’d you know what I was going t’ even say?” 

“I know you,” Simon reminds him. Johnny has had that look on his face ever since you passed out asleep in the car ride on the way home: brows pressed together, full mouth pouting in a way that is entirely unintentional. Simon has been the cause of that look more times than he cares to admit—and tonight is one more time added to that list. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Hafta.” 

“Says who?” 

“Says I.” 

“Leave it alone,” he says. That’s as close as Simon Riley gets to begging: repeating something twice. 

“Do you believe me when I say that I would if I could?” 

Simon glances at Johnny. The light flooding from inside the apartment casts his face in warm shadows. There is a pleading in his eyes, a begging to be understood. Johnny’s never had to beg for that; Simon’s always been able to read him well, the other man used to wearing his heart on his sleeve and Simon used to seeing much more than he ever says. 

He sighs and impatiently reaches for the joint, taking a hit that burns his lungs. “Make it quick then.” 

“You don’t want me to fuck her anymore. You’ve changed your mind.”

“Haven’t.”

“Aht, aht—look me in the eyes and say it.” 

Simon does, and it makes Johnny frown. 

“Then what is it? You’ve got a bug up your arse, I just can’t figure out the species.” 

“I love your way with words,” Simon says, silently cutting himself off. He hands the joint back to Johnny, his head swimming a little. 

The truth is simple and devastating: Simon’s jealous. It’s not an emotion he’s used to (though self-denial is often in his repertoire). He doesn’t know what to fucking do with it, like a man who has given up smoking and now doesn’t know what to do with his hands. When you had first arrived on their doorstep, the attraction you felt for them had been obvious—except was that Simon fooling himself? Were you attracted to him at all, or just Johnny, Johnny with his pretty pale eyes and charming smile and uncanny ability to make even the most unpracticed of people fall in love with him? 

You smoke with Johnny, cuddle on the couch with Johnny, have movie dates with Johnny when Simon is away. The most interaction he’d had with you involved your anxious stammering and quick retreats. 

Yes, tonight had really put it into perspective for him. When it came to the two of you, Simon was likely only ever going to be on the outside looking in. 

“I’m losin’ yeh,” Johnny murmurs, his words tinted by smoke. 

“Never.” 

“Don’t put yer mask on, Simon Riley,” Johnny says with tenderness that Simon doesn’t deserve. “Not when it’s just the two of us. All that shite we said about her when we were fucking—it was just the sex talking, wasn’t it? You were talking out your arse.”

“When have you ever known me to do that?” 

Johnny doesn’t say anything for a while. The rain is soaking through their jackets. Johnny leans against him, looking for warmth, and Simon is happy to slip an arm around his waist and pull him closer. 

“I want her to want me,” he says at length, voice nearly lost to the nighttime city sounds. Somewhere, a siren is wailing. Simon sympathizes. “I don’t know why.”

“Everybody wants t’ be wanted.” The thought of being lumped in with everybody nearly makes him sick, but he supposes Johnny has a point. It’s human. Unfortunately, so is Simon. “She wants you, LT. Nay—it’s not up for discussion. For a man who sees everything, yer eyesight is broken.”

“It’s not worth the breath it’d take to argue with you.”

“Just how I win all our arguments.”

“Fucking her without talking to her first would be a mistake,” he says.

“I’ll talk to her. But I want you there.”

“When you fuck or talk?”

“In an ideal world? Both.”

“Keep dreaming, Johnny boy.”

“I don’t need t’ fuck her, you know,” Johnny reminds him. He looks up at Simon, all eyelashes. “You’re the only thing in this world I need. If fucking her puts any doubt in yer silly head—“

“It doesn’t. I know what keeps you coming back to me.”

“What’s that?” Johnny asks with a grin, feigning ignorance. He crushes the lit end of the blunt to ash on the metal railing of the balcony and tosses the roach over the edge. Finding Simon’s hand buried mostly in his jacket sleeve, he laces their fingers together, comfortable and lazy.

“My winning personality,” Simon deadpans. 

“Oh, obviously.” 

“My charming good looks.” 

“That one’s true.” 

“My cock.”

“She’s got one of those.”

Simon stares. The silence stretches on, Johnny’s smug grin unchanging. “Dunno how to break this to you, Johnny—“

“A toy, LT,” Johnny stage whispers. 

Simon’s eyes narrow. “How’d you get this intel?” 

“My own eyes. But it was an accident, swear to Jesus,” Johnny says, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you haven’t materialized behind him. “The other day when you were taking so bloody long in the shower and I had to piss—she was working, so I went into her bathroom.

“She didn’t have the curtain drawn on her shower and there it was, staring me in the eye, LT. Blue monstrosity with a suction cup on the end.”

“Fucking hell.” 

“Big as you, at least.”

“Don’t fucking tell me that.” 

“If I have to think about it, then you do too. Thinking about her in the shower, hands against the walls, bouncing away on that cheap bit o’ plastic, wishing it were one of us.” 

Simon lets himself picture it: the water sluicing rivulets over your skin, creating constellations of drops on your closed lashes. Your mouth wet and open, hoping the roar of water against the tile covers up the sound of your moans and gasps. 

“You’re a menace.” 

“One of my good qualities, what keeps you coming back to me,” says Johnny. He shivers, half of it for show. “Can we go back in?”

They go back in and strip off their damp clothes right there in the living room, balcony blinds wide open. Simon opts to take the couch, though he hardly fits, and Johnny takes the bed to be with you in case you are sick in the night. 

When Johnny slips into the dark bedroom, he can hear the soft sound of your snores. All seems well. A knot of worry in his chest unwinds, and he tugs on a clean shirt, determined not to look like an opportunistic bastard if you wake up in the night and catch him in bed with you. 

You are still there when the sun rises, and Johnny with it. No matter how many years it’s been since he’s left the SAS, the internal clock is ingrained in his subconscious. He lets himself roll onto his side and stare at you: the shape of your brows, your softly parted mouth. You’re drooling on Simon’s pillow. 

His heart throbs with fondness for you, and with anxiety. He’s nearly positive that you have feelings for Simon as well—he’s caught the way you stare, the way your eyes will track the other man’s movements when you’re all in a room together—but of course he can’t be sure. Not until you make a move or say as such.

Years ago, your interest in Simon might have made him jealous, back when all the attention needed to be his for him to feel anything at all. Maybe it was a sign of getting older, tamer; or maybe it was just about growing safe in his love with Simon, in knowing that they belong to each other absolutely and in perpetuity, but now it thrills him—the thought of sharing and being shared. 

It turns him on, too—sharing. A thought he should not be having while in bed with your half unconscious figure. 

Don’t do wrong by us, he thinks, reaching out to tug the covers up around your shoulders more. Give us a proper chance. Let us fuck it up for our selves, if we must—just give us the chance. 

Out in the living room, he hears the creak of the sofa; Simon is awake. 

Rolling onto his side, he shifts his bad leg out of the bed first, wincing at the early-morning stiffness which seems worse than usual. He’s limping more on his way to the bathroom, but left his cane in the other room. 

“Genius, I am,” he mutters, flipping on the bathroom light. “Just another reason why Simon keeps me ar—what the fu-uck.”

Sometime in the night, part of the ceiling in the northwestern most corner has fallen, wet bits of ceiling tile congealing on the tiled floor. Through the hole (big as two of his fists held together) he can see ceiling beams. Water continues to drip, creating a vast puddle that nearly reaches his toes. 

“Jesus fucking wept,” he says. 

-

Sometime during Simon and Johnny’s perusal of the bathroom, two calls to the maintenance superintendent, and numerous Scottish curse words, you wake. 

You have cotton mouth, your head practically stuffed full of the wooly substance. Your dress has ridden up around your waist, panties bared beneath the sheets and blankets. All around you are the scents of Simon and Johnny, and you have just enough time to wonder what they were doing in your bed before the bed depresses, Johnny at your side coaxing you further into wakefulness. You’re not in your bed; you’re in theirs. 

“What’s going on?” you mutter. 

“Maintenance is coming to look at the bathroom. Figured you’d want to be wearing something else when they got here.”

“What’s wrong with the bathroom?” 

“Ceiling’s caving in,” says Simon from where he leans in the doorway of the bathroom, his hip cocked against it, arms crossed and closed off. 

“Sleep well?” Johnny asks.

“Like the dead.”

“Never heard the dead snore like that,” he says, making your face flush with warmth. 

You grab his pillow and lob it at him half heartedly. There’s a knock on the door in the other room, startling you the way knocks and doorbells always do. The imminent threat of strangers in your space. Jerking down your dress to the proper length, you kick off the blankets and scuttle out of the bed, doing the shortest walk of shame in history. The last thing you see is Simon at the front door waiting for you to disappear before giving the maintenance person entrance. 

Heart thudding, you let your back rest against your bedroom door and wrack your brain to remember the finer details of what had happened last night.

There had been joy meeting up with your girlfriends for the first time in ages—you had saved for so long just to be able to afford a single night out. It was like old times—until it wasn’t. Then you were alone, single in a strange bar watching the last of your friends slip out the door with no more than a wave and a ‘what can you do?’ grin. You had shed some tears at the bar, earning the bartender’s pity. And the pity of a few others, though the name of the man who had given you attention for half the night escaped you.

After that, things got very fuzzy. You must have called to ask Ghost for a ride home. He had offered it, after all, before you had left the apartment in the first place. Even drunk, you had known better than to ask for a ride from a stranger. 

Then—God.

Oh God. Johnny. The backseat. You had come on to him. He had even tried to stop you, but you hadn’t taken no for an answer. The memories rush over you like a tidal wave, one after the other, bringing with them mortification, horror, dread. 

You bury your face in your hands, ashamed and terrified all at once. You had hit on your married friend, against his will, with his husband in the driver’s seat. There would be no coming back from this. 

You needed to talk to Johnny and Simon, urgently. An apology was due at the very least. You wouldn’t be surprised if they kicked you out of the apartment altogether. Stripping out of your dress, you drag on the first clean clothes you can find and slip out into the living room, stomach rolling, to find Simon and Johnny speaking together in hushed voices. They stop at the sight of you. 

“I need to talk to you,” you say to Johnny, before you can lose your nerve. 

“I need to talk to you,” says Simon solemnly. 

“Make that we need to talk to you,” Johnny amends, casting Simon a look.

“Well I need to talk to someone,” the maintenance guy says. 

The three of you jerk, having forgotten the stranger’s presence and no one very eager to be the one to speak with him. Simon heaves a sigh and tilts his head toward the front door in a silent order. The two of them disappear outside, voices just audible on the other side of the door. 

“We should wait fer Simon,” says Johnny. 

“Alright,” you give in, choosing to sit at the far edge of the sofa. You clasp your hands together to keep them from shaking, feeling just as likely to panic as you are to burst into tears. Simon’s disappointment and anger are the last things you want to face, but you suppose that you have earned them. 

After a moment of silence, Johnny asks innocuously: “While we wait—can I use your bathroom? Sorry, it’s just, since ours is out of commission—”

“Of course, my bathroom is your bathroom.” But then you remember... You stand hastily. “Actually, let me just…tidy up really quickly. It’s a mess in there.” 

Johnny doesn’t grin, but it is a near thing. “Alright, lass. Whatever you need to do.” 

[emchant3d]

modern au, exes to lovers, transfem stevie harrington

Stevie Harrington is not having a good day.

By all accounts, she should be. Robin woke her right on time by pressing a perfectly made brown sugar shaken espresso into her hand. Nancy and Chrissy got to the venue earlier than expected. The hair and makeup people were on schedule. Their boozy charcuterie brunch during their prep time was perfectly served, the mimosas delicious and the food fresh and light enough to put on her nervous stomach. 

Everything’s gone off without a hitch. She looks gorgeous. She’s got her something old, her something new, her something borrowed, and even her something blue. Her hair’s done in a soft blowout, framing her face but out of the way, ready for the combs of her veil to slip into. Her makeup is elegant, not too showy and not too dramatic, neutral and warm and sweet. And her dress. It’s what she always dreamed of, clingy and silky with a dramatic leg slit and a long train, off the shoulders, perfectly white. She’s staring at herself in the mirror knowing that in forty-five minutes, she’s going to hold the world’s most beautiful wedding bouquet and walk down the most perfectly decorated aisle in the quaintest, sweetest church she could find, and she’ll stand across from her fiancé and take his hands and say “I do” and all of her dreams will come true.

So she should be having a good day.

Because it’s her wedding day, and Stevie Harrington is about to become Stefania Hagan.

Maybe that brunch wasn’t so perfect after all, because she thinks she’s about to puke.

“I can’t do this,” she says, but her voice is so soft it’s barely a whisper and the girls don’t even glance at her. “I can’t do this,” she repeats, and Robin - bless her, her favorite person in the world, her soulmate, her other half, her maid of honor - glances up. 

“What’s that, Evie?” she asks, and the others look over at her, and Stevie stands there beneath their gazes and knows if she just says it again, says I can’t do this, don’t make me marry him, get me out of here, all three of them would drag her to an exit and get her the fuck out.

They don’t even like Tommy. Robin actively hates him, actually, and that should have been enough for Stevie to never look at him twice.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t enough.

She thinks back to a few days ago, drunk in a bar with a white sash wrapped around her torso, a tiara on her head, and mascara running down her face as she desperately sobbed on Robin’s shoulder during her bachelorette party. That little meltdown wasn’t enough. And she thinks back further, to when Tommy proposed - in public, at a fucking baseball game, on the goddamn jumbotron. Dread had settled in her chest at the sight of the ring (huge, gaudy, she hated it on sight) even as she pasted on a smile and said yes. That hadn’t been enough.

But somehow standing here done up head to toe, about to walk down the aisle in her absolute dream wedding - that’s enough. Because everything about today is right. Everything’s in place. Everything’s gorgeous and going to plan and she should be so, so happy - but it’s the wrong man waiting for her at the end of all of it.

She can’t do this. 

She looks up and meets Robin’s eyes and forces a smile. “I said I need to get my veil,” she lies, and she slips into her shoes (red bottoms, a gift from Tommy’s mother, perfectly white and pointed and it’s her dream day, how can she be throwing this away?) and walks into the other room where her garment bag is hanging, and her veil is there with its delicate detail and it’s scalloped edges and it’s all so fucking perfect she’s going to scream, she wants to rip it to pieces and she wants to tear this dress off and she wants to sob, she doesn’t want to do this, she doesn’t want to get married - not to him. Not to Tommy. 

She could ask for help. Robin would have her out of here in five minutes flat, Nancy would craft an excuse to tell everyone, and Chrissy would cause a distraction. But even that’s too long of a wait. Even that’s too much attention, too much suspicion. She needs to move faster than that. She needs out now.

She quickens her pace as she crosses the room, dress dragging along the carpet, and she snags her phone where it’s sitting on the end table next to an overstuffed love seat, and in three long strides she’s out the door and in the hall and the church has been busy and packed all day but somehow, miraculously, there’s no one here.

No one sees Stevie as she gathers up the fabric of her dress in her hands and starts to walk towards the exit. No one sees as her walk speeds to a jog, and then a run, and then she slams out of a side door and she’s on the sidewalk and she’s sprinting, her heels are going to get scuffed by the pavement but she can’t care, she’s running as fast as she can and dodging people on the sidewalk as they turn and gawk at her and she cannot give them a thought, cannot focus on them even a little bit because she has to get away, escape is the only thought on her mind as she gasps for air, her dress is so heavy and it’s not made for running that’s for goddamn sure, and the last few years with Tommy flash through her mind - every time he’s undermined her or given her a backhanded compliment or policed her, told her she wasn’t feminine enough, told her she wasn’t trying hard enough to pass, told her to just keep it all to herself so no one would know she wasn’t cis, wouldn’t embarrass him by making a scene, all the times that come together to a glaringly obvious conclusion that he doesn’t really love her and she kind of hates him a little actually, and obviously she can’t fucking marry him and–

There. 

A beat-up four-door with an Uber sticker in the window. 

That’ll do, she thinks, and she changes course, shoulder-checking a man and not apologizing for it as she makes a beeline for the car. She pops off an acrylic wrenching the door open and tossing herself into the backseat, and she yells “DRIVE!” at the top of her lungs and somehow, through some miracle, they listen, swerving into traffic with a loud curse and a myriad of honking horns and a quaint, sweet little church growing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.

She’s gasping for breath, chest heaving, staring out the back window like she’s waiting for someone to follow her - and maybe she is, maybe Tommy is hot on her trail, or maybe Robin is coming to kill her for not including her in her mad dash to freedom and instead jumping in a stranger’s car going God knows where.

“So uh,” a voice says, and she whips around, staring wide-eyed at the brown eyes fixed on her in the mirror, and no, no fucking way– “where to, ma’am?” 

“Um,” she says, and her voice is shaky, cracking a little, she brushes her hair out of her face and stares and– wait.

There’s a beat. The driver’s eyes widen. Recognition flashes over his face at the same time it registers for Stevie. 

“Stevie?” Eddie Munson, her ex-boyfriend of several years, the man she hasn’t spoken to since that fateful night they went their separate ways, is staring at her in shock, not even looking at the road, and the only thing she can think is how he’s just as averse to road safety now as he’d been way back when.

“Eddie,” she croaks out. 

Too many emotions are overwhelming her at once and it feels like the biggest cliché in the world, but honestly, Stevie feels like she’s entitled to some dramatics. It’s her goddamn wedding day, after all.

Her failed wedding day.

Where she just left her fiancé at the altar.

“Oh god,” she manages. Her lower lip wobbles. Her vision blurs.

“Stevie,” Eddie says again, like a warning, and that’s enough to push her over.

She bursts into tears in his backseat.

“Hey hey hey!” he says like she’s a fucking spooked horse or something, which only makes her cry more, ugly sobs that shake her shoulders and drip tear drops onto her dress. “Stevie, honey–”

“Do NOT call me honey right now!” she manages, and he raises a hand in surrender before flipping on a turn signal and finding a parking lot to pull over in. 

“Okay, okay! No comforting pet names, you got it,” he agrees, and he shuts the car off, turning in his seat to look at her, concern painted all over his face and that’s just really not fair, she thinks, that he still looks so earnest and sweet and fucking worried about her.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, urgent and serious, and she shakes her head quickly.

“No! No, I’m - I’m fine, really,” she insists and he proves that he is a gentleman after all, because he doesn’t call her out on the blatant lie.

“Okay,” he says, level, his hand hovering in the space between them like he wants to touch her. “What do you need?” he asks, and she wipes at her face with her hands, swallowing down yet another sob.

“Get me out of here,” she pleads, and he searches her face for - something, she doesn’t know what, because she’s sure all she’s showing him is how much of a fucking mess she is, but he must find whatever he’s looking for.

He gives her a sharp nod. “Anywhere in particular, sweetheart?” he asks, turning to start the car again. She doesn’t call him out on the pet name this time.

“Anywhere but here,” she says, and he puts the car in reverse, pulling back onto the road.

“You got it,” he says, and some of that old charm must kick in - he winks at her in the rearview. She resolutely ignores the spike of emotion it gives her. 

Then she takes a deep, shuddery breath, and opens the group chat to break the news to her wedding party.

part 2

[katsukistofu]

hihi !! thinking about a hurt/comfort fic with shinsou where reader feels like she’s boring/annoying to him

good parts

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ h. shinsou x fem reader. 1.5k words — hurt/comfort. fluff. slightly suggestive. ⭑ no matter how dark your brain gets, hitoshi is determined to help you see yourself in the same light that he does.

Hitoshi visibly softens the moment he opens his door at the sight of you standing there in the dimly lit hallway.

Dark violet pools swimming with worry drift from the way you’re chewing the inside of your cheek, like how he’s noticed you usually do when you’re anxious, to the hem of your pajamas balled up in your fists.

“What's up, love?” Hitoshi says in his softest voice, faltering when you finally meet his eyes with your reddened ones. His heart drops. Have you been crying?

At your uncharacteristically hesitant mumble of “Can I come in?” is when he feels said heart nearly split into two.

“Of course.” A concerned frown tugs at his lips. Something’s definitely wrong. You usually never bothered to ask twice, not that he minded of course, before barreling into his arms the second he turned the knob so many times before. “You can always come into my dorm.”

“I know, I just…” Your sweet voice that he’s missed all day trails off guiltily, and you take a deep breath as you fiddle with the edge of your pajamas.

“Actually, sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I think I’ll just go back to my room.”

“What, who said that? You never bother me.” Hitoshi’s gentle yet firm grasp on your sleeve stops you from turning to leave, and you huff at his stubborn attempt to make you stay.

“Toshi, let go.”

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to amputate my arm first, and not that you couldn’t but I don’t think you don’t have the tools for that at the moment, pretty girl.” The edge of his lips tilt upward in a wry smile as he playfully tugs you towards him. “You’re not escaping me that easily.”

You huff and turn away, looking anywhere but into his warm, patient eyes. It’s a trap, you know it, once you do you’ll be spilling your guts out in no time, and the sickening aftertaste of burning shame is just something you can’t stomach right now.

Plus he’s wearing that gray hoodie he knows is your favorite, which just makes everything worse because he looks ten times more handsome than usual.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Hitoshi coaxes. “Talk to me. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

A beat of silence. 

Your lips press into a firm, thin line, and you finally surrender. 

“Yeah. I know.” You sigh, and he rubs your shoulder encouragingly.

“Go ahead then, I’m listening.”

“Okay, uh…” You mumble slowly, suddenly feeling very silly. “Do you think I’m annoying or that you’ll ever get bored of me, Toshi?” 

“Never.” He answers without skipping a beat. “To both. You never annoy me, and you’re anything but boring.”

“Really?” Your voice breaks a little and his heart clenches in his chest at the way you sound so doubtful of his words. Hitoshi reaches out to tenderly brush his knuckles against your cheek.

“Really.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Well when I wake up everyday, my first thought is that I look forward to seeing you.”

Your eyes widen, when it really shouldn’t be a surprise at all. “You do?”

“Mhm, I do.” Hitoshi moves to sit down on the edge of his bed. You gasp as he smoothly pulls you into his lap, quite literally sweeping you off your feet.  “And you know how else I know I’ll never, ever get bored of you?”

"What?" You shyly adjust your legs to straddle him more comfortably. He guides your arms to wrap around his neck in response, unwavering, intense eyes staring into yours. He’s so close that his lashes brush against your cheek when he blinks, and his warm breath fans across your lips teasingly.

“Toshi,” you whine. “You’re making me feel flustered.”

“I know it makes you feel flustered.” Hitoshi grins slyly. “That's why I love doing it.”

You gently bat his bicep. “Stop distracting me and answer my question!” 

“Yes ma’am.” Hitoshi chuckles as you retort by cutely puffing your cheeks and laying your head down on his shoulder. His arms are snug against your waist and he squeezes you in his lap. You always feel so nice, sitting so prettily on him. 

“I know I’ll never get bored of you because when someone asks what the best part of my day was, I always mention you in some way. Could be a cute doodle you made on a note you left me, you spending five solid minutes trying to push a door that says pull at a restaurant, or seeing you get excited over a new season of your favorite show coming out, anything as long as it's you.”

His expression is warm as he watches your head perk up at that, which quickly turns into a scowl when you realize exactly what he’s referring to. “The sign on that pull door was really faded, you couldn’t see it either!”

“That’s why I made you my guinea pig so I could come in and heroically save the day for you.”

“Heroic my ass,” you mutter into his hoodie and he laughs, then presses a soft kiss to your neck in response and you shiver. 

“And you have no idea just how much I love listening to you talk about your day.”

“...Even on the days I don’t do anything special?”

“Especially on those days.” He nuzzles his face into your neck and you giggle. “Love hearing you talk about mundane shit. Love when you send me a picture of what you’re having for breakfast, or when you tell me about some weirdly shaped cloud you saw outside during training.”

He pauses thoughtfully, and continues, “Hell, you could probably read me your grocery list and I'd still be hooked on every word. I love your little quirks, even the ones you think are weird. Your whole personality. Your cute voice.”

Hitoshi squeezes your hip. “So keep telling me all about it, okay? I wanna hear it.”

You let out a sweet little contented noise of agreement and your boyfriend grins. 

“So I think it’s safe to say that the chances of me finding you boring or annoying are real slim.” Hitoshi smirks, tickling your thighs that are still wrapped around his waist, and you squirm out of his hold and escape further into his bed while giggling. 

“Real slim meaning zero times infinity.”

“Isn’t that just zero, though?” You let out a soft sigh, completely out of breath as you flop onto his pillow.

“Shh, let me have my moment. Everything times infinity makes it more special.” Hitoshi’s arms come up from behind to hug you against him. “Like my love for you.”

“Ew.” You wrinkle your nose. “You’re so corny.”

“I know. Took you long enough to realize I’m obsessed with you.” He rolls his eyes, bending his head down to brush his lips against the nape of your neck. “Everyone in class already calls me a simp, you don’t need to rub it in.”

You flip around to face him, snuggling the side of your face into his pillow that has the faint, comforting scent of the laundry detergent he likes to use. “Good thing I’m also a simp.”

Hitoshi softly gasps in mock surprise. “Really? Oh my god,” his eyes flicker around the room as if he’s looking for the mysterious person who won your affections. “Who’s the lucky person?”

You laugh and the side of lips quirk up in that fond way that only happens when he’s with you. “You, you silly goose!”

“Me?” He sweetly brushes his nose against yours. “Wow. Feels like I’ve won the lottery.”

A warm feeling spreads across your chest, like honey being stirred into a hot cup of tea and Hitoshi’s eyes are half-lidded as he whispers in a low tone that makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter to life.

“Come here, love. Give me a goodnight kiss.”

You lean in to kiss his deliciously soft lips, and you can feel him grin against your mouth at your eagerness. He kisses you back twice as gently, agonizingly so, while his hand trails to cup the dip of your waist and you feel dizzy at his adoring touch. Your heart is pounding way, way too fast for this late at night.

He sneaks another tender kiss onto your neck, then on your collarbone, and Hitoshi laughs as you shyly smush your flustered face into his pillow.

“One more thing.”

You peek over to glance at him, and the way he’s looking at you makes you feel warm and tingly all over and your burning face is begging for you to return it to the cool depths of his pillow.

“Promise you’ll always tell me when you feel like this. No more keeping it in.”

Your eyes soften at his stern expression. “Okay, I promise.”

“Pinkie promise.” He says sagely, lifting his finger, and a laugh bubbles up in your throat at his serious tone when you raise your own, his larger pinkie overlapping yours. 

“I pinkie promise.”

“Good girl.” Hitoshi smirks, which is short-lived when his eyes widen in panic and it’s too late by the time he reaches to catch you as you proceed to tumble off the bed.